Toot Toot

Okay, so part of me feels weird tooting my own horn, but my wife tells me I need to do more of it. So, here's a link to Jason's Comics in the Classroom interview that he did to promote Postcards: True Stories That Never Happened. It's a great interview about the book, some behind the scenes goodies, how the book might be used by teachers, etc. At the bottom of the interview is a short update Scott Tingley wrote after he read the anthology. Turns out he was impressed with "Cora's Dress." So go check out the interview and be sure to read all the way to the bottom. It's funny. I was just glad to be given the opportunity to be in the book that has so many great storytellers involved, and to be teamed with Drew Gilbert, who I thought did a fantastic job with the art for "Cora's Dress." For this writer, it's a thrill to know my story is being read. And learning that others are enjoying it? Well, that's icing on an already delicious cake. I can't wait for July 17...

Eximious Press: The Website

The Eximious Press website is up and running. What's Eximious Press? Who's it for and why should you care? Well, all of your answers can be found with a simple click. Of course, if you want to know what eximious means, well, try the dictionary.

Hard Case Crime

Hard Case Crime has released the cover image to an upcoming release by John Lange, aka Michael Crichton. She's a beauty, isn't she? Yet another gorgeous cover for this amazing line of books. My friend Jason Bovberg turned me on to these books about 8 months ago. He's been into them since the beginning, but I'm a knucklehead sometimes and didn't listen until most of the first edition copies were gone for the earlier releases. But I'm totally into these now, and let me tell you, I'm glad I finally jumped on board. These books kick so much ass, it's impossible to describe. They're dark, gritty crime novels filled with pulpy goodness. Quick, easy stories, to be sure, but stories that grab you by the balls and don't let go. I haven't had this much fun with words for years. And those covers. Gorgeous, each and every one. I sometimes find myself looking at the ones I own, soaking in the art, loving the way they not only look, but the way they remind me of a time gone by. Just as the stories themselves are throwbacks to the old pulp novels of yesteryear (some are actual reprints), the covers also recapture that feeling of books gone by. I'm not saying anything new here. But in case someone out there reading this blog hasn't tried this line of novels, give one of 'em a chance (I highly recommend any of these Lawrence Block books). You won't be disappointed.

Another Cool Postcards Review

Ain't it Cool News has a review of Postcards: True Stories That Never Happened. Ambush Bug has taken a liking to the book, which is fantastic. I love to see positive buzz about the book. And if you'll allow me to toot my own horn, Ambush Bug made a special call out for my story. He says, "There are quite a few heartbreakers in this book, but none compare to the story of a little tomboy who is dead set against wearing her dress despite how much her mother wants to see her in it. The story sounds innocent and downright bland, but the last few panels were a gut punch to me and I challenge anyone not to be affected by how this story by James W. Powell ends." Be sure to check out the review, and pre-order your copy of the book.

Interviews, Reviews, and Rear Views

Had my first interview from the other side of the table on Monday night. After interviewing 100s as a reporter in Utah, and again as a Q&A guy for various DVD and comic sites, I finally worked my way into being interviewed. It was a disaster. No, not really. But when you're talking with the likes of Jason Rodriguez, Tom Beland, and Robert Tinnell, the new guy is bound to be a bit intimidated. And I was. But I learned a lot, and I'm already excited about getting another opportunity. I have no idea when that might be, but now that I have one under my belt, I have some experience and confidence, a nice combo. *** Jason sent me a link to let me know about the Library Journal review for Postcards. It's a huge review for the book, and I have to admit that it's pretty cool to have my story called out in the review (however brief that call out might be), especially when there are so many outstanding stories in the book. I'm sure that more and more reviews will roll out about the book, and there's no question in my mind it's going to get a lot of critical attention. Anyway, the review... Postcards: True Stories That Never Happened. Villard: Random. Jun. 2007. 160p. ed. by Jason Rodriguez. ISBN 978-0-345-49850-2. $21.95. ANTHOLAs the title suggests, the inspiration for each of the graphic short stories in this anthology was one of the antique, used postcards in the editor's collection. Sixteen stories by more than 25 contributors, many with multiple award nominations, provide a wide variety of styles in art and storytelling. Each piece is introduced by Rodriguez with an explanation of his expectations from each postcard and how, more often than not, the artists and writers went above and beyond what he imagined. A number of the stories allow for brief, poignant glimpses into the characters' lives, like an American couple taking refuge in Paris during the Depression; two tic-tac-toe hustlers trying for one more scam; a mother hiding her illness from her playful, young daughter; and an elderly man missing his deceased wife. One lighter adventure is a tongue-in-cheek tribute to the Golden Age of comics starring a superhero known as the Midnight Caller. A collaboration by Harvey Pekar, Joyce Brabner, and Matt Kindt illustrates how a life can be summed up simply in the cards and letters one receives. Readers of the popular Flight volumes will enjoy the anthology format, but Postcards will appeal more to those who lean toward real-life tales like Brian Fies's Mom's Cancer, Alison Bechdel's Fun Home, or Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis. Older teens and adults will appreciate the book's themes and art. In addition to the black-and-white artwork, Postcards will feature an eight-page full-color insert, although this was not available in the galley copy. Recommended.—Don Boozer, Cleveland P.L. *** I really have nothing to say about the "rear views" other than to say that I'm totally intrigued by all the press the MJ statue is getting. Personally, I think the statue is pointless, but it does make for some very interesting reading. I look forward to seeing how all this plays out, especially with the cover to Heroes For Hire #13 getting some bad press now, too. Ah, comics. Never a dull moment.

Podcast Interview

Ladies and Gentlemen, yours truly will be featured in an upcoming podcast interview at Cindy Center, an online interview show that showcases independent creators. Naturally, we'll be talking Postcards, so I'll be joined by editor Jason Rodriguez and writers Bob Tinnell and Tom Beland. Go over and post some questions you'd like answered about the anthology. We're recording the podcast on Monday night, so ask your questions ASAP!

Peter Parker 3

Stephanie and I went to see Spider-Man 3 today. About a quarter of the way into the movie I was bored. Haven't we already been here with the whole Peter and MJ thing? And c'mon. Is Harry still tormented? Give it a rest. By the half-way point, I was still bored, wondering where the hell Spidey was. I mean, why didn't they just call it Peter Parker 3 instead? And where's the fun? Sure, there was spot humor, but no scenes with action and excitement for the sake of having some action and excitement. Too many similar plot lines. Too many villains. Too many minutes. Doesn't add up to a good movie. The showdown at the end was fun, but I sure wish it was more exciting getting there. Oh well. I'll always have the first two.

My Day Job is Killing Me

I have a day job. I supervise technical writers and editors for a training products and services company. And I can't tell you how much I hate it. I'm under paid, under appreciated, stressed out, and stuck in middle management in a cube farm right in the middle of Corporate America. The funny thing is that I can live with that. The hours are flexible so I can get home and do the things I actually care about, like working out and writing and making comics. But I realized something today that makes the thought of going back tomorrow more unbearable than ever: I have no friends there anymore. I've always enjoyed it there because of the people I'm surrounded with. But now that I'm in middle management hell, my peers have already been broken. Try as I might to change things, there's no more fun. No more jokes. No more lazy days. It's all business, it's all pressure, it's all deadlines and budgets. And when I dare ask how someone's weekend went, I get looked at like I'm crazy. "Why are you wasting company time with personal questions like that?" the look says. Today I went the entire day without a single person saying hello. No one asked me about my plans for the weekend. No one asked me what's happening next with my book. (Hell, if you asked the entire company, less than six people would even remember I'm working on anything, and of those six, maybe one would have any notion on the theme of the book. It reminds of when I got back from my honeymoon. Five people asked me where I had been, and when I said on my honeymoon, they said they didn't know I was even engaged.) And that's just it: no one cares. Not about each other. There's no humanity. There's no bonding, no connections. Just a bunch of people working for something half of them don't care about. There's no compassion at my work place. No one wants to help others. Sure, people complain and bitch to me all the time. I'm the supporter of the group (for some, anyway). But when I have something to say or when I need an ear, I'm turned away. Or better yet, they'll hear me out, but turn me away and tell me to deal with it on my own. And when I can't, they berate me for not getting it done. Believe me, I've tried to make connections, but they're all failing miserably. There's this one "friend" who I've been actually breaking the cycle with lately. We actually talk and laugh every now and then. It's so refreshing. She's a fun person, and I like those rare occasions when we can actually just talk and relax. Those are the times that usually help me stay motivated and realize that there is still some humanity left. Well, she walked past my desk at least 8 times today and never said a word. Never even looked in my direction. I wondered if we'd ever talk again if I didn't make the effort to go out of my way to say hello to her. Then I realized that she never talks to me. It's always me going to her. She's too busy for that sort of interaction unless it's thrust upon her. She's just like the other drones, bumping into each other on their way to their next meeting, their next assignment. Of course, as I write this, I realize that I'm not even sure who I'm talking about anymore. All of my "friends" are like this (I know, I keep getting suckered into believing that I can actually be friends with someone at work, but I hate calling everyone a co-worker. But, of course, I'm slowly being broken just like everyone else, so soon enough, even I will see them as nothing more than co-workers). I spend 8-10 hours each day of my life with people who don't give one little shit about me or each other. That's so disgusting I'm sick to my stomach thinking about it. Instead of enjoying each other and having fun in our lives, we do anything we can to skip that personal contact. How sad is that? I only have two reasons for even staying at this job, but they're big enough for me to be stuck there for some time: My wife and Dear Santa. My wife just quit her job to follow her dream of being a freelance writer, so although she makes money, we need my income to stay afloat. As for Dear Santa, without a job that gives me flexible hours and some spending cash, well, let's just say my dream of making comics would already be dead. But let's face it, if I go to my day job for much longer, it won't be my dream that's dead...it'll be me. I know I'm not alone. I know that there are millions of people who complain about their jobs, who have it worse than me. And I'm sure anyone reading this is just like my friends who say deal with it. Or get another job. But I don't want to deal with it, and another corporate job isn't the answer. I want to be happy. Isn't that what life should be about? Being happy and spending time with those you care about? I've been told more than once that I'm married now and have to be responsible. I can't worry about being happy with my day job. That I need to support the family, and making minimum wage at a job that actually brings me some happiness isn't good enough. This is life and you're supposed to just deal with it. But you know what, I don't think that cuts it for me anymore. I just don't think I can wait another day to be happy...

Dear Santa Production Update: Amazing Week

Whoa! What a week it's been already. I just got off the phone with another of my dream comic book storytellers. Not only is he totally excited to be part of Dear Santa, Let Me Explain, the story idea he pitched sounds so perfect, I already know where I'll place it in the collection. It's heartwarming, sad, touching, and totally uplifting. I can't wait to see what he does with it. Combine this news with the fantastic conversation I had last week with another great illustrator and you'll see why I'm totally jazzed. And here I've been cursing myself the last week and a half for letting home improvements get in the way of making progress on Dear Santa. I can't believe how well things are coming together on this book. I've pretty much got a dream cast of storytellers. But I couldn't do it without some very helpful, very supportive friends. Jason Rodriguez, Robert Tinnell, and Chris Stevens have given me advice, positive energy, and even a few contacts. It might sound a little emotional, but when the days come when I feel like I'm in over my head (and believe me, putting my first book together has been one crazy roller coaster ride), it's nice to have others who've been there, done that, and can not only relate, but help guide me. I've got roughly 75% of the stories accounted for, and a handful of drafts have already come my way. Next up is developing a book proposal that'll be so perfect, publishers and other creators would be crazy to pass it up.

Two Years

As of about 7:30 last night, April 23, 2007, my lovely wife and I have been married for two years. And to be totally honest, those have been two of the best years of my life. She is a wonderful woman, and I'm ever thankful that she came into my life. So how did we celebrate this big anniversary? We boxed up more of our crap and moved it into the garage in preparation for the carpet guys. Yea! Of course, we did try to squeeze in a little fun. We went to Macaroni Grill and had a few drinks and some way-too-creamy but oh-so-tasty food. Delicious! There's not much I enjoy more than stuffing my belly with a captain 'n coke in close proximity while talking about books and writing and the future with my wife. Our bellies full and our eyes droopy from a rough weekend, we went home and promptly fell asleep on the only furniture we have left in the house. Ah, newlyweds. Note: We're in Colorado, and that means a snowstorm came this morning instead of the carpet installers. Apparently, installing carpet in a near blizzard isn't the best idea. And from the looks of it, our house will be empty until next week. Joy!

Postcards: The Interviews

Comic Book Resources is posting interviews with Postcards creators all week long. The Rick Spears and Rob G interview is already up, and just today, CBR posted the Ande Parks interview. Jason interviews each creator to get some insight into the creative process, and the interactions give a nice overview of the book. Later this week, the interview sessions end with Tom Beland, who not only answers questions but also gives readers a look at his entire story. Be sure to keep an eye on CBR all week long.

Boxing Day

Moving sucks. Especially when you're not moving. See, we're getting carpet put in next week, so I have the oh so fun task of boxing up nearly 500 books and who knows how many graphic novels. So on Saturday I started the ordeal. Of course, I'm so anal that I have to ensure that each box is not only labeled, but that each book is entered into my book tracking software. After just four boxes, I was ready to sell my entire collection. I mean, why the hell do I own half of these books? I not only will never read half of them, but they're all available for practically nothing on abe.com, so what's the point? Of course, this is me, so by the time I was taping up my 10th box, I was getting sad that all of my children would be stuck in tight, dark compartments for the next few days. The next thing I know, I was looking to fill in the cracks of my collection. What, I only have 33 Orson Scott Card books? What am I missing? I better look 'em up. So not five hours after considering giving up the hobby, I was already planning on taking my hobby one step further. What a sick man I am. I sealed up 13 boxes this weekend. I have another 4-5 left, I'm guessing, plus another for my paperbacks. And I'll most likely re-box the 8 I already have scattered around the house. I have to have the same size of box or I'll go insane, and the other boxes just aren't the same. Tonight I box up my graphic novels and trades. I'm already sad...

Dear Santa Production Update: The Pitch

The weeks following my office "Holiday" party where I came up with the idea to put together a collection of Christmas disaster stories, I couldn't sit still. My mind just kept grinding on the idea. Over and over. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't listen at work. It was Dear Santa all the time. But after a couple of weeks, I realized I wasn't getting anywhere. I was just dreaming of the book that would be instead of making it reality. But what the hell do I do first? Sure, I've worked on a few projects, but never my own. Where do I begin? I started by calling my friend, Jason Rodriguez. What did he say? First he told me I had a great idea, then he said, "Plan, plan, plan." Very wise man that Jason. He also told me to read The Self-Publishing Manual. So I did, and a few days later I was writing my project plan and working on drafts of the Dear Santa, Let Me Explain... creator pitch. Yet still, my mind kept grinding. I reworked and reworked my plan. I rewrote my pitch 50 times. January came and went and I still hadn't invited anyone to join me because I wasn't ready. Or so I thought. It was as if I were waiting for something. I needed someone to tell me that I was ready, that my idea wasn't going to get any more defined. I talked with Jason again, and he was totally supportive, and he answered my insecure questions with the ease of a gifted editor. Then I talked to Bob Tinnell, and he loved the idea, too, and he was excited for me to start gathering creators. But still...I waited. What I needed was the perfect pitch. I needed something more than just my description of my idea and my passion for the book. I needed something visual that would show creators that I was serious. That this book is not just going to happen, but it's going to be a great success. In other words, it had to be perfect. But what? That's when two things happened almost simultaneously. First I read an email from Caleb Monroe that reminded me how good and how fast Noel Tuazon is as an artist. No sooner had I started connecting the words "good" and "fast" and "pitch" that I clicked a link that took me to an image drawn and colored by Noel Tuazon. His use of watercolors was exactly what I imagined using for illustrating essays in my book. I emailed him immediately, asking if he'd be interested in helping me with the pitch. I told him the ideas I had and what I was looking for. Later that night I got an email that said something like, "Sure, but I'm working on some other projects so it'll be awhile before I can get to it." The next day I had some rough sketches for my pitch. The day after that, I had the finalized art. God I love Noel. Not only was he fast, but what he game me looked fantastic. It was exactly what I had in mind. Not only did it set the Christmas tone, but it also set a nice mood that emphasized what I was looking for in the stories I was hoping to collect. That weekend I put my words together with Noel's art and posted my Dear Santa, Let Me Explain... creator pitch online. After two months of planning and daydreaming and biting my nails in anticipation, I was ready to invite my first creator. Of course, this would all be a big tease if I didn't post my pitch here for all to see. So if you're interested in what we came up with, check out the official creator invitation for Dear Santa, Let Me Explain...

Finally, My Balls Hurt!

You know, I love comics. Always have. I mean, the sequential art story format is just something I've been into since I was a kid. I love the way the pictures and words form a great story unlike anything you’d see at the movies or at the bookstore. I don't care if it's superhero action or zombie horror or slice of life drama, I can appreciate a good story told the comic book way. Good comics, bad comics, it's all comics, and that's okay in my book (for the most part, anyway). Yep, I'm total comics apologist. But I gotta be honest, there's a lot of garbage out there these days. Probably no more than there's ever been, I suppose, but the editor in me, the guy who just wants to read a good, solid story, cringes after every trade collection or graphic novel I suffer through. And right now, it's gotten me a little down. Comics have so much potential, and I absolutely hate to see the format squandered on poorly told stories. Can't someone just develop a great book that takes me by the balls and doesn’t let go until that final reveal? Ladies and gentlemen, enter Elk’s Run. That’s right, I finally read such a book, and by God I have a new faith in the world of comics. Someone say hallelujah. If you don’t believe me, go out and read the first chapter of Elk’s Run. It was so fucking hardcore, I read it twice before moving on to the rest of the story. I said "Oh shit" and "Oooh, nice" and "Holy fuck" after practically every page, and I was saying it in this high-pitched sissy voice because the story had my balls in a very snug grip. Lucky for me, that grip never slackened too much. Sure, there were one or two moments when I felt like I could breathe again, but only momentarily. That’s not to say the story races along. It’s a quick paced book, sure, but Josh Fialkov treats the reader with just enough characterization to fully feel for the poor bastards of Elk’s Ridge. And that art. Fuck! Noel Tuazon’s panels tell more of a story than most artists could do with an entire book. The facial expressions alone speak volumes. And Scott Keating’s colors not only set the tone, but yank you around emotionally along the way. If you like good comics, go read this one. Please. You owe it to yourself as a fan of comics. It’s not a superhero book. It’s not an underground indie book. It’s just a solid story executed about as well as any comic you’ll see this year. Josh, Noel, Scott, and Jason, I owe you all a drink…just as soon as I ice my swollen nuts.

Charley's Mom is Getting Into All Sorts of Trouble

We're running a Michael Gaydos art contest on our Postcards site, and the entries are pouring in. We wanted to share some of our responses, most of which are coming in the form of a return postcard from Charley's friend, Eva. And you'll be surprised to hear just how Charley's mom has been spending the last three weeks. Jason and I sat down with Charley to have him respond to the latest postcards...

Twenty-Six

I just calculated that I've picked up 26 books this year already. Twenty-fucking-six. How the hell am I ever going to read 26 books? Of course, the answer is that I won't. Half of those books are first edition hardcovers that I'll never read. Sure, the other half are also first edition hardcovers, but I'll probably read some of those. But with Dear Santa ramping up and with Postcards still taking some time, I don't even have enough free time to read a monthly comic let alone a 300-page novel. Maybe if I stopped posting on this damn site, I'd have time to read more...

Postcards on Blog @ Newsarama

Day three of our week-long look at the creators behind Postcards over at Bl0g@Newsarama. Today is a brief Q&A with Matt Dembicki and Jason Copland. Both great guys. And the story really stands out in the book for its dark, moody tone. Check out the interview. In other Jason Copland news, the hockey-nut has just signed up to be in Dear Santa, Let Me Explain... And his story is hilarious. Of course, if he reads this, he'll feel pressure to be hilarious and want to pull out, so maybe I shouldn't tell him what I think about his idea...

Dear Santa, Let Me Explain...

At our work "Holiday" Party—we're not allowed to call it Christmas...what a load of bunk—we play this gift exchange game where you can pick a wrapped gift from under the fake "holiday" tree or you can steal a gift that's already been opened. Well, this year, I decided to beat the odds, so I raided the wrapped presents under the tree. To my utter delight, I found a hardcover copy of Malcolm Gladwell's Blink. It's a fantastic book about intuition and how your mind can make the right decision without thinking about every possibility first. I had already read the book, but I wanted to read it again and possibly share it with friends and family. I figured the book was mine. And why not? None of the other party goers seemed interested in the book, not when there were wine and other alcohol to steal from other gift exchangers. But with only two gifts left under the tree, my friend Rich decided to take my newest prized possession. The bastard! I wouldn't say I was pissed, just disappointed. I knew I'd get stuck with some lame candle or some silly toy I'd never use. Instead, I unwrapped a T-shirt. A very large, very red T-shirt. A plain white piece of notepaper was silk-screened on the front with the words, "Dear Santa, Let Me Explain..." written in a child's handwriting. I walked back to my spot in the corner, mumbling about my luck. But somewhere in the back of my mind, an idea was already forming. I pictured the kid who wrote the note to Santa, and how scared he was that Santa might not be coming this year. I pictured what he must've done to make him so worried. Maybe he punched his sister. Maybe he was caught looking for gifts. Heck, maybe he used the F-word. But for whatever reason, he wanted to tell Santa he was sorry and that he hoped the jolly fat man would still deliver gifts this year. By the time I found my spot, I also realized that I had a story of my own, not unlike my little unseen friend who wrote that note to Santa. And I bet others did too. I showed my newest gift to Frank, who said, "You know, that'd be a great title for a book." "That's exactly what I was thinking," I said. And just like that, Dear Santa, Let Me Explain... was born. The idea for putting together a collection of holiday disaster stories was already cemented in my mind as I walked around the office after the party. Everyone wanted to share with me their own holiday horror story and I knew I had something big on my hands, and it wasn't just an XXL red shirt. Flash forward a few months, and the book is coming together nicely. My plan is to get 20 comic creators, essayists, and novelists to tell their tale through illustrated essays and sequential comic art. And the more creators I get signed up, the more excited I am about the book. I've currently got 14 fantastic creators on board, some of whom were so into the idea, they've already sent me drafts, sketches, or in one instance, the completed story. I'm totally excited about this latest venture. And now that the cat's out of the bag, you can expect some production updates right here all along the way. I'll keep you posted on new signings, milestones we've met, and hopefully a teaser or two of some art we'll be using in the book. And if all goes well, I'll also be posting information on the open submission process. So sit back, relax, and let Santa's helpers do all the work...

Win Gaydos Art

Jason's running a contest to celebrate the solicitation for Postcards: True Stories that Never Happened. Up for grabs is a piece of original art illustrated by Michael Gaydos for the story, "Tic-Tac- Bang-Bang" (written by Stuart Moore). You might recognize Gaydos' name from his work on Marvel's Alias and The Pulse, or from his more recent work on Virgin Comics' Snakewoman. If you want to win the piece (and who wouldn't want to own that beauty?), all you have to do is tell a compelling story based on the postcard Jason selected from his growing collection of old cards. The postcard reads: Dear friend Where did mother go when she left your place? We have not heard from her for over three weeks & we did not know where to write to. We thought likely you would know. Charley Frost Check out the contest page for more information, and get those submissions in.

Go Read About Me

If you're even the least bit interested in me or my work on Postcards, go check out the anthology's blog and read all the kind words Jason has to say. Of course, the odds are that you just came from that site, so going back would just send you into some sort of endless loop that'll drive you mad until you run out of your office with your pants around your ankles screaming "I love Peter Pan. I love Peter Pan." So click the link at your own risk. * * * Oh, and also note that Elk's Run comes out today. I had nothing to do with this fine book, but you should read it anyway. It's good. Plus, when you're done, you can see the advertisement at the back that plugs Postcards (which is solicited in Previews tomorrow).

Mad Maxx Meets The Collector

I'm an idiot. I've known for nearly a month that Max Berry was planning to sign at the Tattered Cover. That's plenty of time to hunt down a first edition copy of his latest book, Company, a book I wanted to buy when it first came out a year ago, but after debating and debating every time I was in the bookstore, I decided against it. And now, when he was traveling all the way from Australia to sign that very book which has just come out in paperback, I procrastinate just long enough to realize there would be absolutely no way I could get a copy in time. But I go anyway. Why not? I have his first two books, so there's no reason not to. Hell, maybe I'd even break down and buy the new paperback. It turns out Barry is funny, down to earth, and just another guy. I like him immediately. And when he reads from a novel that he hasn't even turned into his editor, well, he grows even more cool, especially when he catches a logical error in his writing as he reads, stops, and makes a quick change. Now that was awesome. As I wait in line to shake his hand and get his signature, I overhear him talking to a few others as he signs their books. So far, everyone is having him sign a little note to their girlfriends, or to their mom, or to co-workers. All the while, I'm just looking to get his autograph since the collector in me doesn't want an inscription anywhere near my pristine copies. Of course, it's not that big a deal. I've been in that situation hundred of times. The anticipation is worse then the actual event, so I knew I could handle being the only collector in the house. Well, until the guy in front of me says, "Oh, I have to get an inscription. If I'm meeting an author I like and getting a book signed, what's the point in not getting an inscription?" Barry, with his head down to concentrate on whatever witty words he was writing mumbles something about collectors and bastards and making money. Oh no. Did he really say all collectors were bastards? Probably not. Did his snide comment mean he hated anyone who would ask for "just" a signature? I doubt it. But that's what I hear and feel just the same. A war immediately erupts in my mind and soul as I decide to have him write whatever he wants on all three books, only to change my mind and stick to my guns and get just the signature. In the final 45 seconds of my wait, I change my mind back and forth 38 times. When it's my turn, I gently hand him my two pristine first editions and a copy of his new paperback. "Just your signature, please," I say softly. "Sorry." He smiles and says, "It's okay. That's the only way they'll be worth money, right?" I want to tell him to feel free to write what he felt like writing. I want to tell him that these weren't for me. I want to tell him that yes, I was a collector, but that I had no control over this need to have him sign only his signature. I want to tell him it was a disease and that I'd seek medical attention as soon as I got home. Instead I say, "I don't collect for money." Of course, by then, his head is bent and he can't hear my self-conscious whimper. "Do you want me to date it, too?" He asks. No. No. Just the signature, man. That's what I want to say. Instead, I say, "Sure, whatever." After the deed is done, the collector in me backs off and I ask him about his relationship with his editor. Turns out that he really trusts his editor and truly appreciates the work he does on his novels. For me, as an editor who wants to break away from his corporate chains, that was a refreshing thing for me to hear. To some degree, we were talking on the same level. Not writer to fan, but peer to peer. Then, in a burst of unplanned excitement, I ask, "What happened to the other x?" His first novel was penned by a Maxx Barry, whereas all subsequent work was done by Maxx Berry. I immediately see my mistake just by looking in his eyes as he turns to me and says, "Oh, well, in the book..." D'oh! Of course. Had I actually read his book, I would've known that the story was about marketing, and how the characters would come up with silly ways to market themselves, such as adding an extra letter to their name to look cool and help sell themselves. Now I not only wanted just his signature for my collectible book, I hadn't even read his book in the first place to know the inside joke. God, what an idiot! I shake his hand, thank him for coming all the way to America and to the small city of Denver, and then I walk upstairs, where I realize that I would never live with myself for having only a paperback version of his latest book, so I actually set the recently signed copy down on top of a stack of others. As I drive home, I hope he doesn't go upstairs to sign the rest of the copies only to find a signed and dated copy of his book already sitting there, a sign that a true collecting bastard had been here.

Back to Work

I've really been slacking off on my projects the last couple of weeks, what with two weekends spent in the mountains. So today I'm going to be glued to my desk chair, reacquainting myself with the schedule I created for the anthology I'm putting together. It's time to get more confirmations on who will be in the book. Looks to be a busy, yet rewarding, day for me. Someone bring me a Snickers.

Yurt So Good

We just got back from our trek into the wilderness and our first stay in a yurt. (Although originally designed for easy transport by nomads, for us campers, a yurt is a semi-permanent structure used for shelter against the elements by weary travelers hiking in the back-country.) As I write this, my back is aching, my right knee is swollen, I'm cranky from lack of sleep, and yet I'm already thinking about our next trip. It was that much fun. Before we got started, we rigged our own ski polk, a sled you pull behind you that holds your gear as you ski or snowshoe through the snow. We bought some kids' sleds and drilled holes around their edges so the rope would be pulling the whole sled and not just the front. Then we hit the trail head, packed our stuff, and we were off. About an hour later, we saw our home for the night. The yurt, which was nestled behind a small ridge, blended into the scenery pretty well and looked very welcoming to us after hiking through the woods even for only an hour. Turns out that pulling a sled while snowshoeing through sun-warmed snow is actually pretty difficult. Who knew? After we unloaded our gear and checked out the place, we had some fun sledding down a short hill. I had forgotten how fun it was to speed down a hill, the wind whipping against your face. We promised to do more of that next winter as we headed to the yurt to prepare for dinner and the coming night. As Stephanie fiddled with the tiny propane stove, I got the fire going inside the cast-iron wood-burning stove. It lit easily and after 15 minutes or so, the small room was nice and toasty. It wouldn't stay that way for long. By the time we had dinner (soup and cookies), it had already grown dark out and we were ready for bed. I made a mental note that I'd need to check the fire again before I fell asleep, but since I was sweating from the heat, I didn't think it would be necessary immediately. I woke up a moment later and realized that hours had passed, that the fire had gone out, and that it was 30 degrees in the hut. The burning embers from the fire were still giving off heat, but I wondered what would've happened had I woken up a few hours later to a completely cold stove. Brrr. After I got the fire started again, we both realized there would be no falling back to sleep unless we went to the bathroom first. Of course, the bathroom was called an outhouse about 30 yards from the hut. Neither of us were looking forward to walking outside, but it was part of the adventures, so we bundled up and made the short but damn called walk to relieve ourselves. On our way back, we noticed the stars. What a beautiful, clear night it was. And the stars were out in force. We stared upward, lost in our own thoughts. For the briefest moments we considered sitting outside and just looking toward the heavens, but the yurt quickly drew us back to its warm embrace. The rest of the night, while Stephanie slept by my side, I woke every hour or so to stoke the fire to make sure it didn't get any colder. The sounds of coyotes filled the night air and woke me to remind me of my duty. As I fed the fire, I wondered if the packs of coyotes would pay us a visit. Although their howls woke me several times, I knew they were no closer than a few valleys away, so I slept soundly: my wife and the warmth of the hut inside, the coyotes and the cold of winter outside. The next morning, I stoked the fire one last time and chopped some wood for the next travelers who would visit the yurt. After we had some hot chocolate and oatmeal Stephanie whipped up, we packed our sleds, cleaned the yurt, and were off. The trek back was quicker for us, but since most of it was downhill, we realized just how poorly prepared our sleds were. Not only were the ropes too long, but without some hard shell around the rope to help guide the sled, the sleds were pretty much uncontrollable going downhill. Many times they just sped past us and practically pulled us down the hill after them. Still, we made it to the car in one piece, no worse for wear. We started for home, proud that we survived our first yurt experience and already planning for next time. As we drove out of the state park, we saw three moose: a relative new-born who was all legs, a female who was so fat she looked ready to give birth, and a very tall and bulky male. Yep, it was one hell of a trip, and seeing the moose was just icing on the cake.

Finally...an Update

Wow. Who knew updating a simple blog would be this hard? I've just been super busy working on my other projects that I just haven't had time to update everyone on what's been happening. Although I'm not totally ready to announce the project just yet, the holiday book I'm working on is coming along nicely. Better than I ever could've expected, actually. The creators I'm working with have been outstanding, both with their ideas and their support. This will be a success beyond my wildest dreams, and I can't wait to make the announcement so everyone can be in on it. Until then, I continue being secretive...

Two Books for the Price of Two

Last week, I talked books with Chuck Barnitz, an editor I work with who just happens to write some hilarious sonnets about the work place (you’ll be hearing more about Chuck once I start letting on about my upcoming project). It turns out that Chuck is a book collector, even though he’d never call himself that. Whenever I hear about someone who hunts down a copy of every book a particular author has ever written and does so with an eye for copies in nice condition, well, I consider that someone a collector. Anyway, Chuck hadn’t fully turned to leave my cube before I was on abe.com hunting for books of my own to buy. I had never picked up George Pelecanos’ first few books, and I figured there was no time like the present. Once I saw the prices of those few books, however, I tucked my tail between my legs and decided that perhaps now wasn’t the time after all. By the time I got home, I had a list of other books I just had to have right now. Now, after three days of searching, I have six first edition hard covers on the way from various booksellers around the globe and a bank account balance that reminds me a whole lot of my college days. One of the books I was frantically searching for was Jonathon King’s Shadow Men. I had recently read his first two novels and was eager to read his third. But while I was searching, some barely perceptible warning was going off in the back of my mind. Why didn’t I already own this? Am I sure I don’t? So I scoured my bookshelves, looking here and there for a copy of a book I couldn’t remember if I ever picked up. I couldn’t find it, so I sent my credit card information to a particular bookseller who had the perfect copy at the perfect price. I went to bed, content in my knowledge that my Jonathon King collection would finally be complete. Last night I was on the floor of my office when I happened to glance up. Guess what I saw from this weird new vantage point? Yep, you guessed it. A pristine, unread copy of Shadow Men. I had run out of room on the shelf, so it was resting on top of some other books, hidden from view except for anyone silly enough to actually lay on the floor. Now I’ll pick which book is in better condition, and then read the other copy.

Fun with Web Strips

One of the things Bob got me fired up about was writing my own web strip. After brainstorming some ideas, I finally nailed down the theme I wanted to run with. Three days later I've learned two things. First, writing web strips is a piece of cake. Second, writing web strips is the hardest thing to do...ever! After writing my new web strip for, oh, I don't know, maybe 15 minutes, I was well into my third week of storylines. These things were coming fast and furious. Sure, these were drafts, but the jokes and characters and topics and all that good stuff werejust flowing out of me. "Why didn't I do this earlier?" I asked myself. After awhile, I decided to let my first draft rest for the night and I turned in, excited for having churned out some really good ideas. The next day I read through what I had written. What complete and utter garbage. The jokes and characters and topics and all that good stuff was total drivel. It sure flowed out of me with ease, but from the smell of what I was reading, it wasn't worth keeping. "Why the hell did I bother?" I asked. Of course, time has passed, and I've realized how fun and challenging writing these strips can be. Sure, the ideas flow fast, and it's "easy" to get out only a few panels needed for one strip, but the rewriting needed to make it actually funny and worth reading is a bear. You have to whittle it down to the bare essentials, and cut the rest. It's tough. It's time consuming. But it's also very rewarding. Now I just need to write day two...

Talking Comics with Bob Tinnell

Talked with Bob Tinnell for quite a while the other night. If you don't know Bob's work, shame on you. He's part of the team who brought us The Wicked West and The Black Forest. Of course, he also hooked us up with The Living and the Dead, Terry Sharp, and Sight Unseen. While those are certainly great books, I think he's going to make a name for himself (as if he hasn't already) for his more heartfelt stories, such as Feast of the Seven Fishes and The Chelation Kid. I met him a few years ago when I was doing interviews for BrokenFrontier.com. We kept in touch here and there, and at some point, he started showing me scripts and I would help with some editing. What I saw in him pretty much immediately was that he's truly concerned about telling a great story. I was some no name punk, and he was totally open to hearing what I had to say. He's not out to make a name for himself, or to use comics to get to Hollywood. He just wants to tell good stories. And for me, an editor, that's what I want most from the writers I work with. Hell, it's what I want from every writer, whether I work with them or not. Anyway, we talked. I don't normally get too long winded about comics or the industry, but it was a great conversation about the state of comics, what he's working on, what I'm working on, etc. Through our discussion, he helped me stay focused and positive. He even gave me some new ideas for ways to get my own stories out there. So much so that I've been writing down idea after idea, at work, after bedtime, you name it. It's all I can think about. Hell, I've even started a script. So anyway, when you see my next announcement, you'll have Bob to thank. And so will I.

Monday Bloody Monday

I hate Mondays. Getting up early for work, dealing with the fact that I didn't get enough done over the weekend, and having to face a full week of dealing with crap at my day job...let's just say it's not my favorite day of the week. Today though, is a little different. This weekend I managed to get caught up on all of my editing for Charles, finally got this website up and running, and put the final touches on my pitch to creators for the anthology I'm putting together. Heck, I even cleaned the house and got two new pairs of shoes. Of course, getting that creator pitch done gave me a strong sense of accomplishment. I needed that to make the weekend a good one. Of course, now I'm chompin' at the bit to send it out to everyone on my list. I'm trying to calm down and wait just a little longer, giving me time to finalize my planning and making sure everything's in order before I start fielding questions and selling writers and artists on the idea. So with me flying high from the weekend, today shouldn't be one of those Mondays that I usually hate. Instead, my mind will be racing, wishing I had just a few more hours of free time to work on my plan. Yep, my head will be in the clouds today, but thankfully, my feet will be resting on some seriously comfortable Dr. Martens. Now that's a Monday I can live with.

The People Behind Postcards

Jason has been busy posting a little history about Postcards and the creators involved with the anthology. If you've ever wanted a behind-the-scenes view of comic book creation, this is for you. Go check 'em out at the Postcards myspace blog.

Finally...

Whew! Seems like I've been trying to get this new site up forever. But I'm here now, so let the fun begin.