Like most writers and cartoonists I spend an excessive amount of time in my head. I’m sensitive and self-critical. I love people, but people also make me anxious. In conversation I have to choose my words very carefully, and therefore, I rarely feel like I have anything clever to say in the moment. My voice is soft and difficult to hear in most social settings, so rather than repeat myself, I’ll often retreat. And oddly, when I do talk, I sometimes talk too much—I can become intense and miss social cues. I’ll fret all night long about what I said, and how it was interpreted. Do other people feel this way?
My anxiety around speaking actually used to be much worse. My graphic novel Speechless is all about this—centering on a sixth grade girl with selective mutism. Selective mutism being the inability to speak in certain situations, often brought on by anxiety. Speechless is fiction, but much of the anxiety Mira exhibits in the book is based on my own, just more heightened.
In my early twenties, I began carrying a sketchbook around wherever I went. This was a lifesaver. I’d draw or write whenever I felt anxious. I’d scribble portraits of my friends, new acquaintances, or random people in the background. I’d jot down personal thoughts and feelings as they came to me and hold my breath when I let people read these inner thoughts. I met my wife and now have a family thanks in part to my social sketchbooking. And in my sketchbook is where I drew my first real comics, which led directly to self-publishing. I’d give my xeroxed zines away and watch and listen for reactions—direct audience feedback.
Now I am a professional cartoonist, and that requires working long hours in isolation, but honestly, this is a path I’ve been on since childhood. Growing up in the Pacific NW, I would typically spend most of the year inside, playing with my toys, playing video games, but most importantly, drawing pictures to tell stories. Even now as I write this essay, I look outside and it is quite dreary. It’s winter in Portland, 40-degrees and wet. Inside is the best place to be at this moment. I enjoy the solitude up to a point, but I don’t have any coworkers to gossip or make small talk with. I’m alone. Some of us work in coffee shops for that reason. Just to be around people can sometimes be enough to make us feel a part of the social fabric.
Six years ago the pandemic made that all much worse, and I haven’t quite recovered from it, but interestingly, writing and making books now gives me an excuse to interact with people. I go to events to support my friends. I go to our local kidlit happy hour. I visit schools to talk about my work, and through that I get to visit places in the Pacific NW I’ve never seen before, Klamath Falls, Snohomish, and Poulsbo to name a few. I write as a means toward human connection. I write to connect with the larger world. My friend Jonathan always talks about how important it is to show up. So, I’m showing up. And I’m making an effort.
Thank you, PNBA for giving me one more reason to continue making things in this space. Let’s all show up for each other.
Celebrate with Aron Nels Steinke at his award presentation party on March 14, 2026 at 2:00 pm at Green Bean Books in Portland, OR. The author/illustrator will receive the award, books will be signed, and much fun will be enjoyed!
NWbooklovers posts original essays from this year’s award winners as featured posts. You can enjoy essays from past winners of the PNBA Book Award in our archive.
