The Heart of January Bliss
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I don’t know where she came from. That is the funny thing about being a creator. Sometimes it is not a deliberative process – it just happens. She just happened.

Sure, I was looking for a new comic strip to develop and publish, and I had read somewhere that strips are more often read by men. So, I suppose the idea was that I would come up with a strip that women could enjoy.

Like all good ideas, it was simple. January Bliss works in an office and wants to please everybody. She has a hopeless crush on her boss “The Fox” and a passing interest in “The Kid” and she is being relentlessly pursued by “The Rick”. She is ably supported by her smart friend Veronica and her ditzy friend Rosie and harassed with long distance calls from her mother.

I wrote seventeen strips and a local paper decided to run it daily. A week later it was being syndicated. I was contacted by a man called Joe Bunbury who was a specialist. A week after that I was in over 300 papers nationwide. I had a hit. Men read it too.

A big part of it was the way I drew Jan. I wanted her to be pretty, but not outrageously so. She needed to have a good body that she could show off when the story demanded it. But her face was important, and in particular her expressions. That is why I used a mirror.

It is not something that a cartoonist uses normally. I never had before. But my characters were about their actions. Jan had to be different. I would strike an expression and draw that in caricature, meaning that you accentuate the prominent features, but it remains recognizable. It never really occurred to me that I had created a female version of myself, but that is what I had done.

It was only a matter of time before people who knew me and knew that I had created her, pointed it out. “That could be you”. The same people might also ask – “Who is ‘The Fox’? Who is ‘The Kid’?” as if they were modelled on some real person. But they weren’t and I would say that January Bliss was the same – just an idea.

Cartoonists like to remain invisible. Even my pen name uses only my initials. Not only anonymous but sexless. Sometimes I felt that is what I was. I never seemed to attract women.

I suppose that my personality was the problem. I was blank, like the paper I draw on. I was the kind of artist that is an observer rather than a participant. I look and I draw. Some artists are larger than life, but I was no Gauguin or Van Gogh – I just drew cartoons.

Even then, I never had much success until January Bliss just happened. Why was she so special?

Women used to write in and say that Jan helped them through their day. She faced all kinds of stresses and yet she sailed through it all with a smile. That was not like me at all. I only smiled in the mirror to catch the essence of January Bliss.

Men wrote in too. Some asked whether we would ever see her in her underwear, or at least a bikini. But the majority just wanted to know how it would end. Of course, I had no idea. Who knows what will happen in life?

Some men said that Jan was sexy. It is like Jessica Rabbit said in that old movie – “I am not really a bad girl; I am just drawn this way”. But I did not draw Jan like Jessica. I wanted January Bliss to be curvaceous rather than slim, and pretty rather than sexy. She needed to have self-confidence, the way that attractive women seem to. Would she really be her if she was plain and chunky?

There was always the hint that she was talking to the audience, but one day I decided to break the fourth wall. I had her ask the audience – “What would you do?”

Accidentally I had started an interactive strip. The audience loved it, and the papers too, but they were inundated with mail addressed to January Bliss. There was lots of good advice, and a few indecent suggestions as well. But as the executives said – “We’re selling it.”

I had one fan who seemed excessively creepy. His name was Paul and he seemed convinced that January Bliss was a real person and that he was in love with her. I was told that these kinds of people should never be engaged with, but I did write to assure him that Jan was just a cartoon. He was not convinced. His letter in reply told me to tell Jan that he was a slave to her and would do whatever she wanted of him. I have to say that I found that kind of commitment quite flattering.

The newspapers started receiving more than just mail. Gifts arrived too, and some of those found their way to me. I even received product for endorsement. I received shampoo and toiletries. Some small business sent me cosmetics with the request that January Bliss should wear and endorse the product. It’s a cartoon for God’s sake!

Dresses too. “What size is January Bliss. I am sending a Size 8 in the hope that it will be a fit”. How dumb can you get? A. She does not wear real clothes; B. She doesn’t have a size; C. If she did it would be small enough to fit on a printed page.

I had all this stuff sitting in my apartment while I was chained to the drawing board churning out strips. Still, I hung up the dress, so I could sketch it in. I was not about to endorse the label, but I felt that whoever sent it has caught her character in this outfit. It was fun and feminine, like she was.

I found out later that I did not need to mention the boutique. They made sales of the dress “as worn by January Bliss”, with my strip blown up in the window. It was that dress alright.

Like I said, I am no Gauguin or Van Gogh, but those guys went crazy, and it seemed to me that I was headed that way. The drawing board seemed to have become a snowstorm of white in front of me, which I was wading through against the wind, hoping to find a line or a shape, or some log cabin to hide in. How can you draw something joyful when you are in that kind of mood?

The only thing in my room that was a beacon of color was that dress hanging up. It seemed to be calling to me. It seemed to be saying – “the heart of January Bliss is over here”. I know it sounds crazy. It was not an inanimate object calling out, it was something in my head thrown across the room. But it seemed like the seed of inspiration, and when that speaks, you listen.

I put the dress on. It was a whim. I stripped off my clothes and I stepped into it and pulled it up. It seems sad to say that it hung off me. I needed to stuff the front of the dress and the back of my underpants, and a size 8 is not that big. I was working and not eating properly. I had not shaved in weeks, although my beard was sparse. I needed a bath. Rather than just a shower.

But worst of all my face looked sallow and I had dark rings around my eyes. It was just like the look on the cosmetic’s pack that had been sent to me. “Nobody wants to look like this! Attack those dark rings! Bring color back into your face, and color back into your life!”

If only life was as simple as product labels would lead you to believe.

Then suddenly I found myself saying out loud - “What would January Bliss do?”

When inspiration speaks, you listen, but did she speak? I must have heard something. I must have heard a lot because what I did next seemed like madness. I had that bath, and I used my razor, and I used it all over. I washed my hair with the shampoo I had received. I dried my smooth body, and I attacked my dark rings and followed every instruction that came with the cosmetics. I put on the dress and I paid more attention to padding. I dried my hair and used some product for the right look as if I had styled hair every day of my life.

“What now Jan?” I asked the mirror. There was a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eye.

The drawing board seemed to come alive. It seemed as if the strips were already penciled in and I was just tracing the lines in ink, but I was free handing. The strips followed one another. There was a narrative emerging. ‘The Fox’ at last seemed interested; ‘The Kid’ was proving to be more mature than she thought, and The Rick’ had come to her rescue in a fashion that might well prove having a stalker has advantages. Veronica has her own romantic problems so now Jan is giving support and advice, and Rosie … well, Rosie is still just Rosie.

Everybody just seemed more real now that I inhabited the body of January Bliss.

It may sound like that artistic madness rising, but as I looked at myself in the mirror I thought – what is the harm in this? Plenty of people wear something odd in the privacy of their own home. Hell, some go naked. So long as I didn’t set foot outside my door.

But it was almost as if that thought triggered an urge in me. My door became a forbidden portal that dared me to pass through it. I just needed to believe that I would not be recognized as a man. If that happened, I would be a laughingstock, and that was something that petrified me.

I needed to be sure, so I found a salon on the other side of town that catered for crossdressers. I could drive there partly dressed. Even as I did, I worried that I might be involved in an accident and have to explain. I just needed to find a park close to the entrance and skip in when the sidewalk was empty.

“With you own hair! And so well looked after!” The lady attending to me was very pleased. “You are using skin treatment too. It strikes me that you are no occasional transvestite – you must be preparing to transition to being a full-time girl!”

I just smiled. I did not know what I was doing. I was responding to something within me. It was like my art had taken over my body, and even my mind to some extent. I needed to understand – who is January Bliss? What drives her? What kind of person is she? What will she do next?”

“My name is Bess,” the woman said. “May I say that you have a feminine grace about you that is so rare in others like you. You definitely have a woman’s heart and soul. I feel it”.

Did I? Surely if I have, it is a recent arrival? I was never like this until Jan took over.

“You did your own lipstick and eyeliner?” Bess asked me.

“I am an artist of a type,” I explained. “I know how to use a crayon and a brush.”

“Well, just watch how I work on foundation and highlights to make your face softer. And we have enough hair to add some soft curls. You want feminine – right? But you want confidence and the promise of something sexy – right?”

“Exactly,” I said. She had her just right. She saw in me the January Bliss I had always imagined.

“Keep my card,” she said. “Call me any time. I share your excitement in heading out into the world. I want to be kept informed, but if you need some help or advice, just call me.”

I left the salon and rather than scuttling into my car, I walked around the block and stopped for a coffee and to browse in a couple of womenswear stores. It hardly seemed that I was me anymore. I would never do that, at least not dressed as I was. I was living January Bliss, and it felt good. It felt comfortable. I could almost feel her relief. She was out in the real world.

And when I got back home, she would not step back into the closet with that dress “as worn by January Bliss”. There were more clothes. There were more products seeking the endorsement of a cartoon character, as ridiculous as that might sound.

Later that day I was contacted by the syndication expert, Joe Bunbury. He was starting to talk about turning the strip into an animated special or perhaps even a live action series. He wanted to discuss the possibilities, at a meeting the following morning.

I hardly gave any thought as to whether I would turn up to the meeting dressed as Jan. I had never met Joe, but he knew that I was not a woman. But when I got up in the morning, the curls were still good, and a little shake and a colorful barette were all that was needed. As for the rest of her, I had drawn her a million times, so I knew that face, as Bess at the salon had realized.

I just needed the right outfit, and a pair of shoes that introduced that little bit of sexiness.

The receptionist seemed surprised when I gave my name, which was pleasing. I just smiled and said – “Otherwise known as January Bliss”.

“You’re January Bliss? she said. “I read your strip every day! She is like my life guide.”

Her name was Suzie, and as Joe kept me waiting, I had to just smile as she chattered on about nothing in particular. It seemed to be her specialist subject, but somehow it was comforting like a daytime soap.

She finally received the call to usher me in to see Joe Bunbury. He was surprised.

“I was expecting … Oh, I understand – you are dressed as January Bliss,” he said. “Do you do this often?”

I just smiled and held out a hand for him to do with as he liked. He shook it lightly and awkwardly.

“I need to get a little life experience to further the strip,” I said sweetly. I was suddenly aware that Joe was a very good-looking man.

“Well, that is what we are here to talk about,” he said. “I want to introduce you to Kyle who is a junior illustrator. He might be able to help you with the increasing output.”

I was only then aware that there was somebody else in the room. He sat quietly. He was one of those young men who could have been 12 or 20, but when he stood, he was tall enough to be the older. He was also good-looking, but in a very different way.

I sat down and crossed my freshly shaved legs for both men to enjoy staring at. I have to say that I felt very much in control of the situation in a way that the old me never would have. January Bliss is confident, but she enjoys pleasing people. Were these men pleased? It seemed to me that they were.

I had the feeling that the fact that I was not completely a woman had unsettled them at the beginning but as we talked that fact disappeared. The new reality was that January Bliss was telling her tale from experience.

I had a sudden flash of an image in my head – not even a daydream but a bare moment. I was lying on some soft bed and Joe Bunbury was on top of me, deep inside my vagina. It should have shocked me. It should have been deeply disturbing, but it wasn’t.

It suddenly struck me that this life that seemed to have taken over mine was just like the one I had created. I had a crush on my boss, but I was strangely attracted to the young man in his office. I had a creepy fan. I had a friend in Bess, and in all likelihood with the pleasant airhead, Suzie. And as if to cap it off at that very moment I received a call from my mother.

“I can’t talk now, Mom, I am in an important meeting,” I said.

“Why are you talking like that, Darling?” she said.

“Well, let me call you back,” I told her. “There have been some changes in my life, and I think that they might be permanent.”

As to who will win the heart of January Bliss, that remains to be told.

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2022

Erin’s seed: A cartoonist keeps dreaming a comic strip, it's a romantic type like Juliet Jones used to be. Lots of chick flick type action but when he dreams, he's always the chick in the story. His strip is successful. His lead character is always after one guy but circumstances keep them apart then the cartoonist meets someone who is exactly like his male romantic lead - he falls in love and you know the rest