I was extremely distraught when I was fifteen. Gary Larson announced that he would no longer be making the Farside. How could the greatest cartoonist ever just decide he’s done? Shouldn’t we be able to vote on a decision this important?
After that, I never read the comics as religiously. I felt like I had been betrayed — tricked into loving something was destined to break my heart.
But ever since I started writing, I understand where he is coming from. There is a real humility in admitting you’ve taken something as far as you can without jeopardizing its quality. I admire him for bowing out at the peak of his popularity instead of trying to cling desperately to any sort of cultural relevance. I try to remember that modesty while I’m writing.
This memory came back to me recently after watching an episode from the Farewell Season of The Office. I realized I no longer care about the plots. Everything I wanted to see has happened. I have gotten to know the characters as much as I wanted to. The new plot lines feel like they’re stretching reality so everyone can have one more paycheck.
Thank you, Mr. Larson, for never putting me through that.