There's one common problem with many of the books that get sent to this column for review: The artists making them are not taking their time. They're dashing their work off, filling pages with artwork beneath their abilities. So many of these comics feature a handful of thought-out, relatively pleasing drawings surrounded by work that looks like it was drawn as if to meet some crushing deadline.

The thing is, there's no rush. I made my first minicomic when I was 15. While I was finishing it, I went to do an interview with Adrian Tomine. I asked Tomine what kind of minicomics he liked, knowing full well I'd be sending him my first minicomic along with the transcribed interview. Tomine said something that really stuck with me: "I get so many minicomics that seem like they were done in a hurry. I don't understand that. This is your art. You should take your time with it... especially if you're going to send it out to people." I still sent Tomine my dashed off minicomic, but when I started to work on my next comic, I really made an effort to take his words to heart.

Surprisingly, it was much more fun to take my time with drawing a comic. It was fun to really care about it. It took more time, sure, and it was harder to do, yeah, but there was something satisfying about making the book mine. The more time I spent on it, the more it was about me. The subject matter wasn't about me, but the more detailed the drawing got, the more it felt like me on paper.

The comic was still a mess, but it was my mess. It was the best mess I could make, and something heartfelt comes through with a mess that the artist truly owns.

Josh Sullivan does not own his mess yet. The Best of Josh Sullivan Comics collects seven whole years' worth of strips, but Josh's comics are still a daunting chore to decipher. The stick figures are shaky, the panels are cramped with confusing (and often times pointless) detail, and the backgrounds could (at best) be described as pure afterthought.

It all looks like a chore. It looks like Sullivan hated the idea of having to draw all this stuff. I don't get any love for the act of drawing out of it, mannnn. Instead, I read a desire to finish. This panel has some recognizable shapes in it, right? Good! On to the next, sigh, panel that I have to draw, darn it.

But Sullivan has been doing this for so long that he must enjoy it on some level. He made this collection to showcase his favorite work, and sent it out to The Comics Journal to review, so there must be a purpose behind all this. And the cover actually looks nice, so there's an artist in Sullivan after all.

Considering all this, here's a challenge to Sullivan: When you draw your next comic, enjoy the hell out of doing it. Don't try to finish it in record time. People will still like comics when you're done.

(The Best of Josh Sullivan Comics costs $7. Send that, plus some money for shipping (it's a big book) to: PO Box 773, St. Petersburg FL, 33731)

Tim Swope has a great, stiff cartoony style. He betrays his clean-line sensibility by throwing in a lot of cross-hatching, but that's really no big deal. I'm also not too bothered by the fact that Swope's comics operate around easy visual jokes with predictable punch lines that really feel like someone nudging you and going, "Eh? Eh? Get it?"

Swope's comics are worth it because each individual panel is so much fun to look at. The compositions are alway nicely balanced and despite being so (intentionally) stiff, Swope's art moves (there's a great two-panel spread in this comic of a sea creature emerging from a cave that is the show-stopper moment of The Far Shore).

It's a nice trick. Swope's figures almost look like sharp right angles smashed together. It's rigid, geometric cartooning. But it feels like it's full of loose gestures because Swope's compositions send our eyes bouncing around the panel. So, what could easily be static (and kill any flow from drawing to drawing) comes alive with just the help of a subtle eye nod or puff of smoke.

I do hope Swope stops using so much cross-hatching, because he doesn't need it (does anyone do nice cross hatching besides Joe Sacco?). Swope already has enough visual flair without all the extras. I want him to buy a brush.

(The Far Shore is a bargain at $2. There's no address listed, but you can e-mail Tim or visit his website.)

Austin English is a writer living in New York City.