Can you please introduce yourself?

I am Tom Toro. I'm a cartoonist for The New Yorker and an author of children's books and a forthcoming cartoon collection.

Why do you create cartoons?

I love cartoons. I especially love the ones that only belong within the art form itself—cartoons that have a unique quality to them that you can't see in a movie, TV show, or work of literature.

I love the manageability of cartooning. It is a unique expression of an individual perspective. I was always the kind of kid who would take group projects home and do them by myself. I do enjoy collaboration in some contexts, but cartooning is an individual outlet for your own take on things.

I love how cartoons are very personal and intimate. They’re something you create on your own and people encounter often in private when they're reading The New Yorker in bed at night or on the subway.

I also enjoy the cleverness of cartooning—finding one little twist on something. I enjoy the quickness between idea and output. If you want to make a movie, there's a million different hurdles you have to overcome. It's an almost impossible hill to climb. A cartoon is something you can make quickly and responsively.

Can you tell us a little bit what that creative process looks like? Maybe walk us through the typical creative process for creating a cartoon, including for “Yes, the planet got destroyed…”

When coming up with cartoon ideas, I need to create a space of concentration. I heard an interview of James Taylor by Terry Gross on Fresh Air, and she asked: "How did you start playing the guitar?" His response was: "I had really boring summers as a kid."

You almost have to let yourself get bored, and then your mind will start to entertain itself. You'll start to come up with interesting connections. I sit and let things mull around in my mind because I find that my synapses work faster than my fingers. Where specific ideas come from is harder to say. They are in that process of quietness, letting your mind play, giving myself little prompts and assignments. That's my creative process in terms of the genesis of the ideas.

“Yes, the planet got destroyed” was published in 2012, so we're having to rewind the tape 13 years at this point. I don't remember where the idea came from, but I remember the context in which it was created. I was actually planning to take that week off. My friend and I were going to do a writing retreat to work on a film script. Then he had a last minute assignment, so he took two hours one afternoon. I was sitting around unable to collaborate with him, so I decided to see if I could come up with some cartoon ideas. I did a really quick half batch—five instead of ten ideas—and sent them in that afternoon.

The very next day, the cartoon editor, Bob Mankoff got back to me earlier than expected. He said: "We would like this particular cartoon for issue A," which is that week's issue. That doesn't happen very often. It means you have to deliver the finish immediately. So I had to leave the writing retreat and drive back to my studio. I like to perseverate on my finishes and fuss over them. I'm a perfectionist. But because of the unexpected deadline, I had to create this one faster than I ever had. It’s a weird paradox there. I was not planning to do a cartoon that week, and it ended up being my most popular, enduring work.

Can you tell us about the writing process for that specific caption? In the version that we have, there's whiteout under the word “value.” In previous sketches it said “money.” It seems like you went back and forth. Do you remember why?

There's a lot of very nitpicky reading and fine editing that goes into a New Yorker cartoon. You'd be surprised how much perseverating there is over specific word choice. Like, what is funnier: a duck or a chicken?

For this one, there were two words I remember focusing on. The full caption ended up being, "Yes, the planet got destroyed, but for a beautiful moment in time we created a lot of value for shareholders." I remember fixating upon the word “beautiful.” At first, it was “for a brief moment in time.” But in order for the joke to work, I wanted it to feel more poetic, like this investment banker, business person, oil tycoon—whatever you interpret this person to be—is reflecting whimsically upon the capitalist past. “Beautiful” was more poetic—the irony was deeper.

“Value” versus “money” was the other word choice I flipped back and forth on. At first, I felt that “money” was appropriate. I made this in 2012 in the aftermath of the Great Recession. Savings had evaporated. It was a financial crisis, so money was an identifiable word for people. But I ended up deciding on “value” because it felt like something that would be part of a boardroom presentation. The fact that this guy is using that word for an audience of children who are clearly asking him: “What happened? How did society crumble?” I wanted him to revert to his PowerPoint speak.

Can you tell us about what inspires you and what themes you like to focus on? Has it changed over the years?

I try to stay in tune with current events. I try to be guided by, and responsive to, the moment. There's a great phrase in the foreword to the Complete Cartoons of The New Yorker. Adam Gopnik, a writer for The New Yorker, says: "The cartoons are the light of a time shined through the prism of a mind." You're surrounded in your context, your history, your culture, and you are a prism, refracting all these different beams of influence. 

The cartoons that appear in The New Yorker aren't necessarily editorial, so you can't do specific topical headline stuff. The fact that The New Yorker published “Yes, the planet” is almost an exception because they don't often converge into the area of commentary.

I also use material from my own life. My kid just turned 10 and I've been a father for 10 years. You're always responding, as an artist, to your own life circumstances. 

There are also bucket list things. I can tend toward a little bit of a macabre sense of humor, as “Yes, the planet” indicates. But I've never published a Grim Reaper cartoon with The New Yorker, so I am still trying to climb that hill.

Speaking of things that you want to accomplish, can you tell us a bit about what you're working on now and what's coming next for you?

I’ve just published a book called Crocodiles Need Friends Too. It's my fourth children's book with Little and Brown. It's about a crocodile who is trying to make friends along the riverbank, but the other animals always flee in fear because all they see is the eyes approaching menacingly. The crocodile has a lot of hidden talents that it is never allowed to express. The moral is to look beneath the surface and learn who people are deep down inside.

I also have a collection of cartoons, from The New Yorker mostly, coming out in October called And To Think We Started as a Book Club…, which is one of my cartoons about a gang of women bank robbers who are fleeing the scene of a crime. They are reminiscing: "Oh, and to think we started as a book group." This book is mostly a cartoon collection and it includes “Yes, the planet got destroyed.” There are different thematic chapters, including: The Book of Life, The Book of Love, The Book of Family, and The Book of Animals.

I've also always been concerned about the environment and I’ve always been an animal lover. So, I'm doing cartoons for the Climate Connections newsletter and the Center for Biological Diversity.

One final bonus question. Can you tell us about your studio assistants?

I was hoping they would make an appearance. They sometimes are attracted to the camera. One is an older cat named Eliot. One is a younger cat named Pumpkin. Pumpkin is my kid's cat. We got him two years ago. They have their own studio desk chair that they like to sit in. Sometimes, just for fun, when I'm taking a break, I'll take a little video and post on social media, panning over saying, "Oh, my studio assistant seems to be taking a break today." I do a lot of cat jokes too, so they're my inspiration and my assistants. My constant companions.