Exlactus!

I got a black magic woman...

2011-07-20T20:17:00.000-07:00

And here she is! That's some trick. Another preliminary character design for "The Last Griffin" by artist extraordinaire Pablo Peppino! This little lady looks pretty harmless, but she's hiding quite the secret behind those dreamy eyes of hers.

Hark! Who goes there?

2011-07-13T19:00:00.000-07:00

Relax, sirrah. It's just the first character design done by the inimitable Pablo Peppino for my latest project, "The Last Griffin". Pretty excited about this one, and Pablo is knocking the designs out of the park. More to come...

EXLACTUS!!!

2011-05-27T09:58:00.001-07:00

I can't believe I never mentioned this! I've talked about William Blankenship on this blog before. He's a talented, sometimes twisted (but loveable!), artist I've had the pleasure of working with on a story featuring the Warmageddon character Mik'l. He also has his own website, Bohemian Zen, where he blogs about whatever strikes his fancy and posts up amazing quantities of art, along with some great webcomics. Some time ago I asked him to do a commission of Marvel Comics' heroic Black Knight and he produced the stunning piece of artwork you're seeing below.

After he knocked that one out of the park, I contacted him again regarding something that had been giving me a lot of trouble. A title image for my blog--Exlactus! As you can see by lifting your eyes ever so slightly and looking, Mr. Blankenship did an incredible job with it. And to be perfectly honest, he went far beyond what I'd originally asked for. All I'd figured on was a "Galactus-type" character sitting at a desk typing on a laptop, perhaps with a small planet sitting on the desk with a bite taken out of it like an apple. Bill took those thoughts and ran a cross country marathon with them. The background is stunning, the idea of sitting on the Earth is inspired, and the idea to plug the laptop into the sun is sheer brilliance. He even had the common courtesy to keep my idea of the small planet as snack. He also created the logo, and coined the phrase "Devourer of Words". It was all him, and I'll probably never be able to thank him properly for all of it. I feel like a true heel for waiting this long to say it publicly, but...

Thank you, Bill.

Blargh

2011-05-15T20:38:00.001-07:00

Uh, yep. So it's been quite some time since I've posted anything at all on this thing. It's not that I haven't been doing things, it's just that I've been too lazy to say anything about the things I've been doing. Got that? Okay, let us proceed.

My birthday just passed on Thursday. I am now 32. I fully expected to be a successful comics-type creator by this time, or maybe just a successful writer, or something in the general vicinity of writerly professional. But yeah, that hasn't happened. It could be because I use made up words like "writerly", but who really knows? I'm not saying this as a lead-in to giving up, mind you. There will be no quitting! Unless you count all the times I've quit posting on blogs like this one. Because I do that a lot. So if you count that, then yes, I'm a quitter. But still!

Where was I going with that? I don't really know. Basically, I'm still working on stuff. I'm doing some short scripts for a gentleman named J'amal Walton featuring a barbarian elf named Mik'l over at Warmageddon. The stories are based loosely upon the famed Labours of Hercules. I just spelled labors with a u because it seems more "Old English" to me, by the way. What do you think? Yay or nay? See... I did it again. With the yaying and the naying. Anyway, I've finished scripting the first two stories featuring Mik'l and I'm fairly proud of them. The first is a bit of a debut for the character and doesn't really have anything to do with labors of any kind. It just showcases Mik'l and gives you an idea of the kind of guy he is and the trouble he'll be getting into. The second story is loosely based on the labor of the Nemean Lion. Mik'l clashes with a beast and walks away from the story with an article of clothing. It's good times. The debut story is finished completely with art by the remarkable William Blankenship and is available for consumption on the Warmageddon website I linked up above. Bill is a cool guy, even if his logo looks a lot like the one CBS uses. Check his stuff out and pay him to make the arts for you. The second Mik'l story has to debut at some point, so keep your eyes peeled for that. I'm working on scripting the third one and hope to have that done in the not-so-distant future.

I'm tired of writing about what I'm doing for now, so I'm signing off. I'll write more soon though, so if you're interested in that sort of thing you'll be happy to know more of it's a'comin'.

ONE WORD - WEEK 12 - BUNNY

2010-04-09T10:13:00.000-07:00

I'm still a week behind. This was the word for last week, and this week I got an entirely different word that will most likely be written next week. I've decided that until I can completely catch up by writing two of these scripts in one week I'll just keep saving the new words I get every Monday for the following week. I will catch up eventually... this, I vow!

The word for this (last) week is bunny, obviously. I figure it was because of the Easter holiday, but I really didn't want to write a story about the Easter bunny. The only other kind of bunny I could think of off the top of my head resided at the Playboy mansion, so I decided looking up bunny on the 'net would probably be a good idea. It immediately redirected me to the word rabbit, and I found a bunch of information about rabbits, including a number of mythological fables. One story, in particular, really interested me, and this is my attempt to convert the story into a comic script with my own embellishments stirred into the pot.

PAGE ONE

Panel 1. A father and son are lying on their backs in a grassy field at night. The son is resting his hands behind his head in a position of extreme relaxation as he looks up into the moonlit sky. The father’s hands are folded together and resting on his midsection as he also watches the sky.

SON:
The moon is really big tonight.

FATHER:
Yes, it is. Can you see the rabbit?

Panel 2. The son is sitting up now, surveying the landscape for any sign of the rabbit his father mentioned. His father has propped himself up on one arm and is laughing softly at the reaction of his son.

SON:
What? Where?

FATHER:
No. Not on the ground. On the moon.

Panel 3. The moon is very large in the sky, and is positioned so that the image of the jade rabbit is visible. The father is pointing up in the direction of the moon, and the son is looking up at the moon in response.

FATHER:
Can you see the rabbit there? It’s carved into the face of the moon.

Panel 4. The son is still looking up at the moon, and now his moonlit face is reacting excitedly to the fact that he can see the rabbit his father has pointed out. The father is pleased at the reaction the new discovery has prompted.

SON:
I do see it! How did that happen?

FATHER:
Go ahead and settle back down, and I’ll tell you the story.

PAGE TWO

Panel 1. A monkey, an otter, a jackal and a rabbit are gathered together in an open area of a forest. Trees from the forest surround them on all sides, but there is enough space in the open area to provide them with ample room to congregate.

FATHER (CAP):
Long, long ago a monkey, an otter, a jackal and a rabbit met in the forest that was their home.

Panel 2. The jackal is sitting on its haunches, and its mouth is wide open with its tongue lolling out. Drool is dripping from the jaws of the jackal, and the rabbit is looking up at the jackal nervously.

FATHER (CAP):
Though they were not normally friend to one another, they decided that they would set aside their differences and be charitable to the next person they found to celebrate the Buddhist Sabbath.

Panel 3. A gaunt, old man pushes his way through the trees and underbrush into the open area where the animals are gathered. He is frighteningly thin and dirty, and is wearing little more than rags. There are copious amounts of minor scratches on his bare arms, legs, hands and feet. His hair is unkempt and he sports a tangled beard.

FATHER (CAP):
Upon making their decision, an old man entered the wooded glade and approached the four animals.

Panel 4. The old man is curled up into the fetal position, shuddering

FATHER (CAP):
The starving man begged the animals for any food they could spare, and the monkey, otter, jackal and rabbit set off to gather what they could.

PAGE THREE

Panel 1. The monkey is in a tree, looking at a variety of fruit hanging from the branches, and biting into another juicy piece of fruit that it is holding in its hands.

FATHER (CAP):
The monkey took to the trees, and found a bountiful assortment of fresh fruit hanging amongst their perches. It was more fruit than the monkey had ever seen at one time.

Panel 2. The monkey has dropped to the ground, and is examining the misshapen fruit that has fallen from the fruit tree.

FATHER (CAP):
But although there was more than enough to share, the monkey ignored the lush fruit hanging in the trees and dropped to the ground.

Panel 3. The monkey has picked up a couple pieces of rotting fruit from the ground and is holding them in its hands. It is looking down at the fruit, with the remnants of the juicy, fresh piece of fruit still clinging to the fur around its mouth.

FATHER (CAP):
At the base of the tree the monkey found numerous pieces of rotting fruit. Knowing the beggar would never know the difference, he quickly gathered it in his arms and began to make his way back.

Panel 4. The otter is trotting along the bank of a flowing river.

FATHER (CAP):
The otter had also gone to a place he deemed comfortable. His home was the river, and he knew with hard work and determination that he could catch a beautiful fish to present to the old man.

Panel 5. The otter has lifted its head and is smelling the air as he continues to trot along the bank of the river.

FATHER (CAP):
But as the otter approached the river, his keen nose detected the scent of fish in the air. He began to follow it to the source.

PAGE FOUR

Panel 1. The otter has come across a number of dead fish lying on the bank of the river. He has his nose down close to the dead fish and is examining them.

FATHER (CAP):
There the otter found dead fish that had washed up onto the river bank days before.

Panel 2. In the foreground, a strong, healthy fish is leaping from the river with rivulets of water trailing after it. The otter watches the fish from his place on the river bank in the background.

FATHER (CAP):
Although he knew a freshly caught fish would be better, the otter believed the effort involved would be too steep a price to pay for something as small as a beggar’s gratitude.

Panel 3. The otter is holding one of the dead fish in its mouth and has turned and is trotting away from the surging river.

FATHER (CAP):
He decided to bring one of the dead fish back to the starving man instead.

Panel 4. The jackal is on a well worn foot path in the forest that leads out from the dense forest into a field. An antelope is grazing not far from the jackal in the field, and the jackal is watching the antelope with hungry eyes and its tongue lolling again. The antelope is turned in the opposite direction, and has its head lowered for grazing, so it does not see the jackal.

FATHER (CAP):
The jackal was facing his own dilemma. He had come across an antelope grazing alone.

Panel 5. The antelope is lazily grazing in the field in the foreground. The jackal continues to watch in the background.

FATHER (CAP):
The jackal knew that if he gave chase he would eventually run the antelope down. But to work so hard for a meal only to give it away seemed a fool’s errand to the jackal.

PAGE FIVE

Panel 1. The jackal is looking down as a lizard emerges from the thick confines of the forest and onto the foot path.

FATHER (CAP):
At that very moment, a lizard sluggishly crept forth from the dense undergrowth of the forest into the path of the jackal.

Panel 2. The jackal has snatched the lizard up, and the lizard is hanging limply from its jaws.

FATHER (CAP):
Without hesitation the jackal snapped the lizard up in its jaws, celebrating his good fortune with a yelp.

Panel 3. The jackal is trotting away from the field with its ears up and its tail happily in the air. The antelope is bounding away in the background.

FATHER (CAP):
The jackal turned tail to bring its prize back to the beggar, satisfied it would be enough.

Panel 4. It is night now, and the old man has built a fire. All four animals approach the fire cautiously. The rabbit is the only animal that does not have something in its mouth or paws.

FATHER (CAP):
As the sun left the sky, each of the four animals returned to the spot where they had left the beggar to present their charitable gifts.

PAGE SIX

Panel 1. The animals have gathered near the fire, and their offerings are sitting in front of them. The rabbit has nothing sitting in front of him. The beggar is looking at the offerings carefully.

FATHER (CAP):
Three of the animals presented their offerings to the old man, but the rabbit had nothing to show for his journey into the forest.

Panel 2. The other animals are looking at the rabbit with mirth and malevolence as the rabbit bows its head before the old man. The old man is looking at the rabbit pleasantly, with no anger or disappointment evident on his face.

FATHER (CAP):
The other animals mocked the rabbit for his lack of virtue, but the rabbit ignored them and humbly apologized to the beggar. He had not the skill of the monkey, the otter or the jackal. All he would have been able to gather was grass from the ground.

Panel 3. The rabbit leaps into the fire. The old man and the other animals are reacting with surprise.

FATHER (CAP):
So with no physical gift to present, the rabbit made the most charitable offering of all.

Panel 4. The old man is gesturing dramatically and light exudes from his body as he transforms into the Buddhist god Sakra.

FATHER (CAP):
As the rabbit burned upon the fire the beggar had built, the other animals watched in wonder as the old man began to change.

PAGE SEVEN

Panel 1. Sakra is towering over the blazing fire and the three animals cowering near it.

FATHER (CAP):
Standing before them now was Sakra, the ruler of Heaven.

Panel 2. Sakra is gesturing with a sweeping motion of his arm. The fire is gone, and the unharmed rabbit is all that remains. Smoke is billowing from the back of the rabbit and drifting up and away into the moonlit sky.

FATHER (CAP):
Sakra extinguished the flames and restored the rabbit back to life.

Panel 3. The smoke in the sky has formed the shape of a rabbit and is framed by the full moon. Sakra is gesturing at the smoke as light exudes from his hands. This same type of light outlines the “smoke rabbit” as the image is seared into the face of the moon.

FATHER (CAP):
The smoke from the fire rose into the sky in the shape of a rabbit, and as a reward for the virtue of the rabbit, Sakra traced its form into the face of the moon.

Panel 4. Sakra has gathered the rabbit into his arms and is holding it protectively as he glowers down at the other three animals. They are humbly bowing their heads in shame.

FATHER (CAP):
Though the rabbit did not have the skills of the other animals, he had proven that the rewards of virtue were not defined by what one was able to do, but what one was willing to do.

Panel 5. The moon, with the shape of the rabbit cut into it.

FATHER (CAP):
The evidence would be plain for all to see forevermore.

ONE WORD - WEEK 11 - SWELL

2010-04-02T08:55:00.000-07:00

Yeah... I know. This one is weird. Blatch!

PAGE ONE

Panel 1. Establishing shot of a crummy apartment complex. The building is very plain and square. The lawn is dilapidated, the sidewalk has cracks in it, and maybe there’s a dog peeing on a bush or something. It’s a pretty skuzzy place to live.

Panel 2. We’re looking at a right foot sitting on a pillow with a badly bruised and swollen ankle.

TONY (O/P):
Aw, man. That does not look good.

Panel 3. Sammy is sitting in a plush chair in the living room of the small apartment he shares with Tony. He is wearing shorts and a t-shirt. The front door of the apartment should be visible, because it’ll matter later in the script. Sammy’s right ankle is elevated on a pillow that is sitting on a stool in front of him. Tony is standing nearby, looking at Sammy’s swollen ankle with disturbed fascination.

SAMMY:
Tell me something I don’t know.

TONY:
Seriously, dude. You should go see a doctor.

Panel 4. Sammy is waving off Tony’s suggestion. Tony is looking at Sammy with an inquisitive expression.

SAMMY:
What’s the point? All he’ll say is I need to rice it.

TONY:
Rice it?

Panel 5. Sammy is holding up four fingers and counting them off.

SAMMY:
Yeah, you know… rest, ice, compression, elevation. Rice.

PAGE TWO

Panel 1. Tony is gesturing in the direction of Sammy’s swollen ankle. Tony is shrugging nonchalantly from his seated position.

TONY:
Okay--I’m not seeing any ice. And that’s what you do for a twisted ankle. But what if it’s broken?

SAMMY:
Ice is for pussies. Besides, it’s not broken.

Panel 2. Tony is looking at Sammy with an incredulous expression. Sammy is leaning forward in his chair, trying to explain the situation to Tony as if he were a child.

TONY:
How could you possibly know that?

SAMMY:
Because I’ve twisted my ankle dozens of times, dude. I was playing basketball, I came down on another guy’s foot and I twisted it. It’ll be fine in a couple of days. It barely even hurts.

Panel 3. Tony has turned and is jingling a set of keys as he walks toward the front door of the apartment. Sammy is licking his chops as he watches Tony walk away.

TONY:
If you say so. I’m about to go and get some food. You want something?

SAMMY:
Yeah, bring me back some of those microwavable burritos.

Panel 4. Tony is holding the front door open now, and is looking back at Sammy with a slightly disgusted expression. Sammy is being defensive about his precious microwavable burritos.

TONY:
Dude, gross.

SAMMY:
They’re good!

TONY:
Whatever you say, man.

Panel 5. Sammy is now yelling at the closed front door with his hands cupped next to his cheeks.

SAMMY:
And some salsa!

PAGE THREE

Panel 1. Tony is holding numerous paper bags stuffed to the brim with groceries as he stands outside of the front door of the apartment he shares with Sammy. He’s yelling at the closed door.

CAPTION:
Some time later.

TONY:
Dude, you think you can get the door? My hands are full!

Panel 2. We’re looking at the closed door of the apartment from inside the apartment.

TONY (FROM DOOR):
Dude!

Panel 3. The door has swung open, and Tony is looking down as he fights to get his keys out of the lock. The bags of groceries are sitting on the ground directly behind him, and something that was near the top of one of the bags has fallen out onto the ground.

TONY:
Thanks a lot, man. Now I’ve got to bend down and pick all the bags back up. Not cool. Not cool at--

Panel 4. Tony is looking into the apartment in the direction of Sammy. We cannot see Sammy. We can only see Tony. Tony is dismayed by whatever it is he sees, and he’s yelling.

TONY:
Aaaaahhhhhh!

Panel 5. Close in on Sammy’s face. He was sleeping, so he’s being startled out of his slumber.

SAMMY:
Huh? Whazzit? Whas goan on?

Panel 6. Tony is standing in the doorway, pointing in the direction of Sammy with a horrified expression on his face. His mouth is twisted into a sneer of disgust.

TONY:
Dude, you… I don’t--what the hell happened to you?

PAGE FOUR

Panel 1. We see Sammy for the first time. The right side of his body, save for his face, is swollen as badly as his ankle was previously. It is stretching his clothing and his skin to the limit. The right side of Sammy’s body looks a lot like a water balloon. Sammy is looking down at himself with revulsion.

SAMMY:
Aw, what the crap!?

Panel 2. Tony has stooped down a bit to get a better look at Sammy, almost as if he’s examining him. Sammy is flailing his arms demonstratively in an effort to get Tony to snap out of it.

TONY:
It’s like your whole body is swelling up like a balloon or something. You think I should call 911?

SAMMY:
What? Yes!

Panel 3. Tony is fishing his cell phone out of the pocket of his pants while he talks to Sammy. Sammy is holding his normal left hand over his massively swelled right arm and looking at it with fascination.

TONY:
You don’t have to be mean about it. Does it--I don’t know… hurt?

SAMMY:
No, actually. It just feels kinda weird. Like one half of my body is trapped in a water balloon or something.

Panel 4. Tony has gotten his cell phone out and is dialing. Sammy has made a fist with his left hand and has his index finger extended. He is hovering the digit over his massively swollen right arm.

TONY:
That is so freaking weird.

SAMMY:
I know. I wonder if--

TONY:
I don’t think that’s such a good idea.

Panel 5. Sammy’s index finger is prodding his massively swollen right arm. It is sinking inward as his finger pushes downward.

PAGE FIVE

Panel 1. Tony has the phone held to his ear. He is wincing at the sound of Sammy popping himself.

SFX:
POP!

Panel 2. Tony still has the phone held to his ear, but now he’s being struck by a massive amount of gore that is flying as a result of Sammy popping himself.

SFX:
BLATCH!

Panel 3. Tony still has the phone held to his ear. Gore is covering the front of his body and is dripping and pouring from him. Tony is in shock.

OPERATOR (FROM PHONE):
911. What’s your emergency?

Panel 4. Tony still has the phone held to his ear. The gore is still dripping from his body. He’s screaming at the top of his lungs into the phone.

TONY:
Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!

The DWPFF Journey - Part 8

2010-03-30T08:46:00.000-07:00

ITEM - The one word script I missed out on posting on Friday of last week will be posted at some point this week, along with a new one for THIS Friday. Also, I suck... that is all.

*

Ok, so the last time we talked about the "Digital Webbing Presents - Future Fairy Tales" project, 'lo those many moons ago, I talked about how Chris Stevens - editorial genius that he is - told me that the script I'd written hadn't stuck to the source material of the original "Rikki Tikki Tavi" story as much as he'd like. The story was good, but it wasn't really a story that Rudyard Kipling could be proud of. Not that I'm saying Rudyard Kipling would be proud of any story I wrote... he's not my daddy or anything, but you know what I mean.

Chris' words were like a revelation. He told me what he told me on November 23rd, and by November 26th I'd re-written the entire script. My fingers literally flew over the keyboard as I crafted a brand new story. I sent it in, and I eagerly awaited a response from Chris. Chris got back to me the very same day, and this is what he had to say:

this is a winner, mike.

nice job.

Okay, so I know what you're thinking. The last time Chris sent me a short and sweet response I freaked out a little bit. Back then, I had this feeling in the back of my head that was telling me that Chris wasn't all that pleased with the story. So what was different this time? Well, for starters, I was pleased with the story this time. When the first script was sent in and Chris came back to me with a succinct reply, I thought it meant he didn't like the script. But what I've realized now is that Chris will almost always come back with a matter-of-fact response. I was just using his brief reply as an excuse to scrap the script I'd sent in because I didn't really like it anyway. I knew I could do better, and I wanted to do better. Chris gave me the guidance, and I felt like I'd finally written a script that was not only good, but was a proper homage to one of my favorite childhood stories.

Now all that was left was to tweak the dialogue and panel descriptions here and there, as I'd written the script in a bit of a rush, and wait for Chris to find the perfect artist to bring the story to life. One of my favorite aspects of the DWPFF project is that writers and artists in the Digital Webbing community that might never have spoken or interacted with one another in their lives are now collaborating and forming friendships because of it. Chris started a brilliant thread on the Digital Webbing forums called the dwpff: work journal (which is now over 30 pages long) where he could post updates to the project as it continued to develop. It started on November 11th with Chris posting artwork and following not too much later with a preliminary list of creators and stories that would be included in the book. The reason it was a preliminary list is that it originally consisted of 33 stories. As of this post, the number of stories has grown to 41 (as far as I'm aware, that is) and the list of contributors providing stories, pin-ups, editorial help, etc. has grown exponentially. It truly is a project that people want to be involved with. My name was on the original list posted on November 14th. It was placed in-between the title of my story and two other words. Those words were "need artist". On November 26th of the year 2009 Chris had my completed script. On February 9th of the following year the first page of my Rikki Tikki Tavi story was posted up in the work journal thread on Digital Webbing by the artist we eventually decided to go with. Why in the world did it take so long? We'll talk about that part of the journey next time.

Hold onto your butts...

2010-03-24T09:11:00.000-07:00

So this thing hasn't been updated in a while save for the one word scripts. I feel bad about that, but my day job has been truly frightening lately, and I'm really buckling down with my writing outside of the blog as well, so most of my spare time is being spent on that. I'm trying to finish a full-length script for an artist I'm working with on an awesome concept so that hopefully we can get it to the point where it's ready to submit to publishers in the not-so-distant future. I want to have the script finished by Friday. That's my goal. I've laid out the entire thing, and I've written a good chunk of it, including the ending sequence, which I'm really pleased with.

I'm also working on a Zuda concept with an artist named Fernando Sosa. Fernando is a good guy, and he actually came to me with a concept after another Zuda idea we were working on fell through. I'm pretty excited about this one too, and I'm hoping to have the 8-page (screen) pitch script done by this weekend. Once I actually have the pitch script done and in Fernando's hands I'll divulge a little more information about the concept and how it came about.

And finally, I'm still trying to figure out the best way to convert the Zuda concept I mentioned (the one that fell through) into a prose novel. Work on that is going at a much slower pace, but because I have a really good idea of where the story is going I still feel encouraged about its prospects.

My one word script will be posted on Friday, as usual. That means I need to finish three scripts this week... joy! I'd like to try and get to another DWPFF entry as well, but I just haven't had the time lately. I do have a lot more to say about the DWPFF project because there have been, and continue to be, a lot of twists and turns with it. I'll try extra hard to get to it next week at the latest. So that's it out of me, for now. Until the next time...

ONE WORD - WEEK 10 - ROOT

2010-03-19T15:02:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I know... this is going up late. I also haven't posted anything to this blog all week. The day job has been quite the thorn in my side lately, and it's been difficult to find time to write anything at all. But I vowed to myself that I'd finish at least one of these one word scripts a week, and now that I'm nearly a fifth of the way there I don't want to lose my momentum. The word for this week was root. There were a lot of things I could have written about, but this story just crept into my brain and I decided to run with it. I'm not really sure how well I pulled this off. The use of pictures in the panels might backfire from an artistic standpoint (frames within a frame, if you will), but I kind of like the story, and I like the fact that I was able to incorporate a couple of splash pages as well.

PAGE ONE

Panel 1. A man named Boyd is sitting at a desk in a room in his home. The room has been converted into a personal office. Boyd has pulled the chair he is sitting in very close to the desk, and is hunched and slouching in it, so all we can see of him is from the middle of his chest upwards. He’s looking down at a picture he is holding in one of his hands. In his other hand is a bottle of whiskey. There is a glass of it that has spilled onto the desk. Behind Boyd, on the wall, is a shelf or case displaying a number of framed pictures. There are also plaques and framed documents (newspaper articles, certificates, etc.) hung up on the wall.

CAPTION:
It’s who I am. I can’t change it.

Panel 2. We’re looking at one of the framed pictures on the shelf. It is a picture of Boyd as a young boy, around 13 or so. He is with his father in the picture. His father is dressed in the uniform of an officer of the law--a sheriff. The father is massive in comparison to Boyd, and has a bit of a gut. He’s wearing large mirrored glasses and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat.

CAPTION:
My daddy was a lawman—one of the best this county ever had.

Panel 3. Another framed picture on the shelf. Boyd is an infant in this picture, and is being held by his father. His father is younger and thinner in the picture, dressed in a police uniform and excited to start his career in law enforcement. He’s shaking hands with an older man, Boyd’s grandfather, dressed in the same sheriff uniform that the father was wearing in Panel 2. Boyd’s grandfather appears very worn down physically, although there’s pride in his eyes at his son’s accomplishment.

CAPTION:
His daddy was a lawman before him. It’s been that way for generations. Never had much of a choice. I had to do the same.

Panel 4. Boyd is eyeing the bottle of whiskey he’s holding in his hands. The glass of whiskey that spilled is near.

CAPTION:
Had to be a drinker too.

Panel 5. Boyd takes a deep slug of whiskey straight from the bottle.

CAPTION:
The drinkin’ I’m good at. The law…

PAGE TWO

Panel 1. We’re looking at one of the framed newspaper articles hanging on the wall. The headline reads “Culver trumps Boyd” with a picture of a slick, clean-cut man with a 100-watt smile beaming out at us.

CAPTION:
Not so much.

Panel 2. Another newspaper article. This time the headline reads “Deputy Boyd in traffic accident” with a picture of a police cruiser wrapped around a telephone pole, and Boyd sitting on the curb nearby with his head in his hands.

CAPTION:
Never really took the time to put two and two together. Those things don’t mix.

Panel 3. A final newspaper article. This one is much smaller, it is dwarfed by the frame, and the headline reads “Deputy Fired”. There is no picture.

CAPTION:
So when I lost my position as deputy sheriff I wasn’t ready to blame myself. I decided to blame her instead.

Panel 4. We finally see the picture that Boyd is holding in his hand. It is a picture of his wife, a beautiful woman named Sally. She is smiling openly at the camera, pleased and comfortable with having her picture taken.

CAPTION:
Sally.

PAGE THREE

Panel 1. Another framed picture on the shelf. In this one, Boyd and Sally are high school kids dressed in clothing for their senior Prom. Boyd is wearing a tuxedo that doesn’t fit him very well with a frilly shirt and a large bowtie, and he’s somewhat angular and gangly in it. Sally is wearing a dress that fits her much better, and she’s a vision.

CAPTION:
Prettiest thing I ever saw. Fell in love with her and it stuck. She was my high school sweetheart and I married her first chance I got--just like my daddy did with momma, and his daddy before that.

Panel 2. We’re looking at another framed picture on the shelf. In this one Boyd and his pregnant wife Sally are looking at cribs in a store. They’re holding hands and very much in love. Sally has a slightly swollen belly.

CAPTION:
I loved her unconditionally. She could do no wrong in my eyes.

Panel 3. Boyd is taking another bitter slug of whiskey.

CAPTION:
I didn’t even blame her after the first miscarriage. Not even when we found out she’d never be able to bear children. Never give me my own son.

Panel 4. Another framed picture on the shelf. This is a picture of Boyd and Sally sitting together in a posed “Sears-style” shot. They’re not smiling very convincingly, don’t seem happy at all, and each of them is looking not at the camera, but at some distant point off in space.

CAPTION:
I guess that’s where it started to fall apart.

Panel 5. Another framed picture on the shelf. Boyd is a teenaged boy in this picture, and he’s with his father. There is a police cruiser in the photo, and its hood is open. Boyd and his father are both hunched over the open hood of the cruiser, examining the inner workings of the engine.

CAPTION:
You see, I had no legacy. No wisdom to impart to my son like my daddy had to me, and his daddy had to him.

PAGE FOUR

Panel 1.

CAPTION:
And that was a hard thing to live with. My daddy always told me that the strength of a family wasn’t in what you did, but what you left behind after you were gone. The stronger the roots, the stronger the family tree.

Panel 2. Another picture. Boyd is a young boy wearing a cowboy costume. He has a toy holster, six-shooter and a red cowboy hat with white stitching.

CAPTION:
I wanted my son to be a lawman like his daddy and his grandpa and his great grandpa before that.

Panel 3. Boyd is holding the whiskey bottle out in front of him, looking at it as his eyes drift off into memory.

CAPTION:
I wanted him to carry that tradition and pass it on to his own son someday. But that was never going to happen, because I’d never have a son to call my own.

Panel 4. Boyd is holding the whiskey bottle in the exact same way in this panel, only he’s somewhat younger now and less morose. He’s wearing his deputy uniform, but the shirt is partially tucked out and the uniform itself is wrinkled. The emotion he has now is one of fury. He’s looking past the bottle at Sally, and yelling angrily at the top of his lungs. Sally is yelling back at Boyd.

CAPTION:
So I fell into the bottle, and I could never quite bring myself to climb out again.

Panel 5. Sally is pulling at Boyd’s arm, trying to get the bottle away from him.

CAPTION:
Sally tried to help, god bless her.

PAGE FIVE

Panel 1. Boyd is striking Sally.

CAPTION:
But I didn’t want her help.

PAGE SIX

Panel 1. Boyd is crouched down next to Sally. Sally is on the ground, huddled up in a near fetal position, cradling her face. Boyd is trying to soothe her with his words, and he seems very distressed by what he’s done.

CAPTION:
I regretted it the first time, and told her it’d never happen again--and she forgave me like any good woman would.

Panel 2. Boyd is gripping Sally by the shoulders, and he’s yelling vehemently into her face. Sally is very frightened by Boyd. This is taking place days or weeks after the first incident of abuse, so they should be dressed differently, but Sally still has remnants of bruising from Boyd’s first attack.

CAPTION:
But we were fooling ourselves.

Panel 3. Boyd is in the bathroom of his house, hunched over the sink and staring at himself in the mirror. Vomit is clinging to his lips and bits of it are running down his chin. His eyes are bloodshot and bleary. His shirt is stained with vomit in a ring starting at his collar.

CAPTION:
It went on like that. For longer than I care to remember. And I came to loathe what I’d become. I wasn’t like my daddy, or his daddy before him. I was something else. Something I could barely stand to look at.

Panel 4. We’re seeing Boyd back at his desk again. He is pouring the bottle of whiskey out on his desk.

CAPTION:
I have plenty of regrets. Sally never deserved what I did to her, and maybe if I could have controlled my drinking I might have made a fine lawman sometime down the line.

Panel 5. The bottle of whiskey shatters on the hardwood floor of the office.

CAPTION:
But the biggest regret I have.

PAGE SEVEN

Panel 1. Boyd has finally leaned back in his chair. He is gutshot, and blood is seeping from the wound in his stomach. His shoulders are slumped, and his hands have dropped to his sides. The broken glass of the bottle is underneath one of his hands. We see that the blood has flowed down onto the floor and leaked out from underneath the desk. It has made a tree shape on the hardwood floor as it spreads out away from him.

CAPTION:
Is that I allowed my roots to wither and die.

ONE WORD - WEEK 9 - HEX HEROES

2010-03-12T11:53:00.000-08:00

So the word for my ninth installment of the one word project (where I take a word from oneword.com on Monday and write a short script based on that word to submit to the masses on Friday) was British. I had no clue what to write about, and I was too busy this week to research the British Isles and come up with something extraordinarily clever as a play on the word. So instead I decided I'd write a story about the Hex Heroes that Jamie Roberts (he's from England!) has been creating recently. For those not in the know, Jamie has been working up headshots for various characters and asking people on Digital Webbing and over at DeviantArt to name them. Once he had enough name suggestions he set up a voting process over on his DeviantArt page that I believe is still ongoing. I didn't necessarily use the names that are garnering the most votes at present, and instead used the names I liked the best. This is just a silly script that took me less than a few hours to write. But it was fun.

If you want to see the characters check out the Hex Heroes thread at Digital Webbing

And if you want to vote for the names you like best visit Jamie Roberts' DeviantArt account

PAGE ONE

Panel 1. We’re inside a bank, and one of its walls is being smashed in from the outside by Wrecking Ball. His head is crashing through the wall, and he’s snarling menacingly as he bursts through.

WRECKING BALL:
YARGH!

Panel 2. Wrecking Ball, Optic, Recluse, Magenta and the Bubblegum Shark are all standing in the open area Wrecking Ball created by smashing the bank wall. Wrecking Ball’s head is detached from his body, and there is a sturdy chain leading from his head to his closed fist. The patrons of the bank are looking at the five villains with distressed and fearful expressions.

OPTIC:
We’re here to make a withdrawal!

PAGE TWO

Panel 1. Cueball, a super speedster, is racing down the street towards the bank at a ridiculously fast pace. He’s speaking into a miniature wrist communicator.

CUEBALL:
This is Cueball reporting. There’s trouble down here at the Hex National Bank! I’m moving to intercept, but you guys better get here fast!

Panel 2. Blind Patriot and Ashtray are standing around the water cooler in their superhero headquarters. Blind Patriot is smoking his trademark cigarette. They’re both trying to decipher the garbled message coming through their wrist communicators.

SFX (wrist communicators):
This is… WOOOOOOOOSH!

BLIND PATRIOT:
You catch any of that?

ASHTRAY:
Nope. You were saying?

Panel 3. Blind Patriot and Ashtray continue to talk while Blind Patriot flicks the ash from his cigarette onto Ashtray. Ashtray is extremely annoyed by this.

BLIND PATRIOT:
Right, yeah--so what I was saying is that this country, the good ol’ US of A, is the greatest country around. And if you don’t like it, you should just leave, because we don’t want your kind mucking up the red, white and blue for the rest of us, ya dig?

ASHTRAY:
Uh huh. So basically what you always say. And hey, I really wish you wouldn’t flick your ash on me.

BLIND PATRIOT:
You’re the Ashtray--our superhero butler. What else am I gonna do with it?

Panel 4. Tuning Fork approaches the other two heroes and is talking in their direction animatedly. Blind Patriot is cocking a thumb over his shoulder in the opposite direction.

TUNING FORK:
Team! I just received a communiqué from Cueball! There’s trouble down at the Hex National Bank! Where’s Tenta-Cool and Bucky Spitcurl?

BLIND PATRIOT:
They’re in a backroom somewhere playing hide the tentacle, I imagine. Was that what that radio signal was? How’d you manage to figure it out?

Panel 5. Tunning Fork is gesturing to the tuning fork attached to his head. Ashtray is walking away from the water cooler dispiritedly, and Blind Patriot is calling after him.

TUNING FORK:
My tuning fork makes deciphering any auditory signals a snap. But there’s no time to talk about that now. Ashtray! Get back there and find our missing members. We’ve got to get to the bank!

BLIND PATRIOT:
And keep a sharp eye so you don’t slip in the slime.

ASHTRAY:
Ugh. Yeah, thanks.

PAGE THREE

Panel 1. Cueball is dashing through the bank at top speed, colliding with the villains within like a human pinball. The villains are sturdy enough that Cueball’s actions are little more than an annoyance. Magenta has raised a shield of magenta-colored solid light around herself, and the others are too powerful for Cueball to do any significant damage to.

MAGENTA:
This is getting quite tiresome.

Panel 2. Optic watches Cueball as he dashes from villain to villain, colliding into them.

OPTIC:
Yes, it appears Cueball’s sleek exterior is resistant to both Recluse’s webbing and Bubblegum Shark’s, er… gummy frame. Luckily I have a solution of my own.

Panel 3. Optic is tracking Cueball using his technologically-advanced eyes, almost like the heads-up display of a fighter jet.

Panel 4. Optic takes out Cueball with a blast of red energy from his eyes.

SFX:
PEEYOW!

Panel 5. Wrecking Ball is looking up and speaking to Optic from his position on the floor. His body is wringing the chain in his hands in frustration. Optic is looking down at the unconscious Cueball.

WRECKING BALL:
Let me smash this yahoo, boss! He’s been a pain in my backside ever since we were kids.

OPTIC:
No, Wrecking Ball. Though I’d enjoy disposing of your brother as much as you would, we may need him once the rest of his team arrives.

PAGE FOUR

Panel 1. The heroes show up in the area where the bank wall once stood. Bucky Spitcurl and Tenta-Cool are now gathered with Tuning Fork, Ashtray and Blind Patriot. Bucky Spitcurl is standing in-between Blind Patriot and Tenta-Cool.

TUNING FORK:
You won’t have the chance, Optic!

Panel 2. Blind Patriot is talking to Bucky Spitcurl and gesturing with the cigarette in his hands at her head. She’s scowling at him in response.

BLIND PATRIOT:
You got a little slime behind your ear, doll. Want me to get it?

BUCKY SPITCURL:
You couldn’t see it even if it really was there, so shut it.

Panel 3. Tuning Fork is pointing forward in an inspiring pose as the heroes spring into action around him. Tenta-Cool is reaching forward towards Bubblegum Shark with the tentacles lining his head. Bucky Spitcurl and Blind Patriot dash for Recluse. Ashtray makes a beeline for Magenta.

TUNING FORK:
Take them down, team!

Panel 4. Blind Patriot has flicked the smoldering cigarette he was holding into one of the eyes of Recluse. Recluse fires webbing from his mouth blindly at Bucky Spitcurl, who is dodging the spray of webbing easily.

RECLUSE:
Blast you, Blind Patriot! That was a cheap shot!

BLIND PATRIOT:
Don’t know what you’re complaining about, Recluse. You’ve got seven other eyes to look out of, don’t you?

Panel 5. Bucky Spitcurl is punching Recluse’s lights out as Blind Patriot watches something off-panel. Blind Patriot has a disgusted look on his face.

BUCKY SPITCURL:
And they’ll all be seeing stars!

SFX (from off-panel):
SQUELCH!

BLIND PATRIOT:
Aw, now that just sounds wrong.

PAGE FIVE

Panel 1. Tenta-Cool and Bubblegum Shark are stuck together in a slimy, gummy mess. Tenta-Cool is trying to pull his tentacles free of Bubblegum Shark, but the gum covering Bubblegum Shark’s hide is making it impossible to do, and they’ve pulled and yanked one another into very awkward positions.

SFX:
SQUELCH! SQUELCH!

TENTA-COOL:
Uh--a little help, guys?

Panel 2. All the rest of the heroes and villains that remain standing are watching with disgusted fascination as Tenta-Cool and Bubblegum Shark continue to sloppily flail around with one another. Tuning Fork and Optic are in the midst of a death-grip, but even their fighting has come to an abrupt halt.

SFX:
SQUELCH! SQUELCH!

Panel 3. Tuning Fork has taken his hands off of Optic and is throwing them up in the air in exasperation.

TUNING FORK:
Okay, that’s it! I can’t stand it any longer! I propose a truce until we can get those two un-stuck. It’s seriously grossing me out!

OPTIC:
Agreed. I just… I don’t have the words for how foul that looks.

Panel 4. Ashtray is pointing in the direction of Tenta-Cool and Bubblegum Shark as they continue to struggle. Magenta is nodding her head in agreement at him.

ASHTRAY:
All I know is I’m not cleaning up after this mess.

PAGE SIX

Panel 1. The two teams are standing in front of the damaged bank, facing one another. Bubblegum Shark and Tenta-Cool are both extremely embarrassed by the situation. Tenta-Cool has strips of bubblegum still stuck to various portions of his body, and Bubblegum Shark is missing hunks of gum from his frame. Recluse has a bandage over one of his eyes, and is being supported by Magenta and Wrecking Ball. Cueball is being tended to by Bucky Spitcurl as Ashtray and Blind Patriot look on. Optic and Tuning Fork are standing near one another. All of them have bits of slime or bubblegum on them in various places.

CAPTION:
Three hours later.

Panel 2. Optic and Tuning Fork are having an awkward conversation. Tuning Fork has some gum strung between the rods of the tuning fork on his head.

TUNING FORK:
So, uh… yeah. I really don’t think this needs to go any farther today. You guys gave the money back, so I think we’re good.

OPTIC:
Yes, well… we won’t be thanking you or anything. We could still beat you if we wanted to, but I just really don’t ever want to think about this day ever again.

Panel 3. Tuning Fork and Optic are moving away from each other now, only half-heartedly looking back and gesturing.

TUNING FORK:
You, uh---you got a little gum on your hands there.

OPTIC:
There’s a little bit of it sticking to your tuning fork, actually. I didn’t want to say anything.

Panel 4. The heroes are walking away from the scene of the battle. Tenta-Cool is walking with the team, but most of the heroes are keeping their distance from him. Bucky Spitcurl is nearest to Tenta-Cool, but even she is a little hesitant to get near him now. Blind Patriot is sparking up another cigarette.

BLIND PATRIOT:
This was the worst super-battle ever.

Laggy! The Lagger!

2010-03-10T07:37:00.001-08:00

The Lagmeister! Mr. Lagerson! Lagging when he should be writing!

Anybody remember that old SNL skit? Yeah, I don't blame you if you don't. It was pretty horrible. Anyway, this is my first post of the week because I've been completely ignoring my blog. I see her sitting in the corner, all alone, sipping a glass of punch. And she glances up at me on occassion, with longing in her eyes. She wants me to ask her to dance, but I turn my back. I'm all nerves. But that's not really right either. It's actually that I'm just lazy, so this morning I dropped a fist into my open palm and decreed that I would write a blog post. So that's just what I'm doing.

Now, I haven't written a "DWPFF Journey" entry in a while because last week was solely dedicated to the "How the West Was Weird" book release, but I am planning to post part 8 of my harrowing tale up on the blog tomorrow. I could be doing it today, but since I haven't written in the blog for a while I feel like I need a bit of a warm-up. Speaking of warm-ups, the word I got on Monday for my one word project this week is a horrible monstrosity. I have absolutely NO idea what to write about. None at all. I'm thinking of approaching it in the same way that I did the word for week one - BAMBOO - and just doing a search online. The second I come across something mildly interesting, I'll give it a go. The only problem with that is that I'm sure I'm going to come across a gaggle of interesting prospects because the word is so all-encompassing. But there's no point in avoiding the problem. Only way I'm going to manage it is by tackling it head-on. I'm just being a whiny little baby, really, mewling about my problems. It's a fun blog entry, yeah? Tomorrow will be better.

ONE WORD - WEEK 8 - HTWWW

2010-03-05T08:12:00.001-08:00

So this week I'm approaching my one word project a little differently. I did go to oneword.com this Monday, and I did get a word. But because I've been dedicating this entire week to the "How the West Was Weird" book recently released by Pulpwork Press, I decided to scrap my word for this week and write a script based on the image above instead. This was another of Jim Rugg's ideas for the cover of the book, and although it didn't make the final cut, the comic-style art is what gave me the idea to turn it into a one word installment. I'll be going back to the regular one word format beginning next week, but I think this is a nice way for me to contribute to "How the West Was Weird" beyond just talking up the stories the other writers came up with, and it might serve to help me finally close the chapter on my guilt for not having contributed a story of my own. That's the hope, anyway.

PAGE ONE

Panel 1. We’re looking down at a barren stretch of desert. Far off in the distance, the peaks of mountains can be seen stretching towards the sky. The vegetation, if there is any at all, is sparse and withering. There is a faint set of footprints on the hardpacked ground, leading across the panel. On the far right of the panel, we can see the shadow of a man. The man is not visible in the panel, but his shadow is.

Panel 2. The man, a gunslinger, is trudging through the desert. Each step is agony. His angular features are haggard, victimized by the harsh rays of the sun. His clothes are sweat-stained and filthy. He’s dressed as a cowboy, with a wide-brimmed hat, duster, simple button-up shirt and tight-fitting, sturdy pants. A gun belt is strapped around his waist with a six-shooter in the lone holster.

Panel 3. Zoom in on the face of the gunslinger. His face is sunburned and his lips are cracked and faintly bleeding. His face is dotted with stubble from neglect of the razor. His squinted eyes are sunken in his face, as though retreating from the light of the sun.

PAGE TWO

Panel 1. The gunslinger is looking over to the left (right of the page) at something we can’t see.

SFX (O/P):
Rawk!

Panel 2. Vultures are sitting on a withered, dilapidated tree that’s holding on for dear life. The vultures are eyeing the gunslinger as he walks past them with carnivorous desire.

Panel 3. The gunslinger continues to trudge inexorably forward. The tree the vultures were perched on is behind him now, and the vultures are hopping off of the tree to give chase.

Panel 4. The gunslinger still walks through the desert, but now the vultures are walking behind him in an almost comical fashion. It almost seems like he’s leading them, but they’re only waiting for him to collapse from the heat so they can feed.

PAGE THREE

Panel 1. The gunslinger trudges onward, but he’s laboring even more now. His shoulders are drastically slumped, his chin heavily dropped against his chest. He’s a living zombie.

Panel 2. The gunslinger loses his footing and pitches forward, falling onto the dusty ground.

Panel 3. The vultures scramble forward, their necks and sharp beaks outstretched, their wings spread wide in excitement.

VULTURES:
Rawk!

Panel 4. The lead vulture has reached the gunslinger, and is tearing at the meaty calf of his leg with its sharp beak. The pant leg and flesh of the gunslinger is ripping away as the vulture claims its prize. The gunslinger is barking in pain.

Panel 5. The gunslinger has drawn his weapon, an 1875 Remington revolver, and is separating the head of the vulture from its neck. The other vultures are taking to the sky in panic as the gun roars.

SFX:
BOOM!

PAGE FOUR

Panel 1. The gunslinger is walking again, in a mirror image of Page 2, Panel 4, and the vultures are still following his lead. But this time they’re keeping a cautious distance from him. There is a rag tied tightly around the leg injury of the gunslinger.

Panel 2. Zoom close in on the rag or handkerchief tied around the gunslinger’s leg wound. The rag is stained with blood, and more of it is seeping through the cloth.

Panel 3. The gunslinger has stopped in his tracks, a small plume of dust rising around his boots. He has noticed something that we cannot see.

Panel 4. We’re behind the gunslinger, looking around him at a spaceship settled in the midst of this barren landscape. It is as large as a small house, its cold metal reflecting the blazing sun. There is no sign of life from the spaceship, but its appearance is in stark contrast to its surroundings. The gunslinger is around fifty yards from the spaceship. Between the gunslinger and the spaceship the ground is littered with the bodies of other dead gunslingers. Most of them are little more than bits of rotting flesh on scattered bones framed by tattered clothing.

PAGE FIVE

Panel 1. The vultures take flight from behind the gunslinger, lumbering into the air, and he has turned to watch them depart.

Panel 2. The gunslinger has turned back to face the spaceship, and there is an alien standing between it and the gunslinger now. The skin of the alien is a deep green, its flesh mottled and coarse. Its limbs and digits are unnaturally long, and its face is more reptilian than human. It is dressed in a dark flight suit, and is looking at the gunslinger with emotionless, alien eyes. The alien has a gun belt strapped low on its thin waist just like the gunslinger, but the weapon in the holster has the flair and ridges and curves of an alien ray gun.

Panel 3. The alien is standing in a defensive posture. Its hand with the long fingers and sharp claws is hovering over the weapon in its holster, challenging the gunslinger.

Panel 4. The gunslinger and the alien face one another down over the distance between them. The duster of the gunslinger is tucked back behind his thin frame to provide easier access to his iron.

Panel 5. The gunslinger and the alien both draw their weapons and fire. The gunslinger’s iron spits a small plume of fire as a bullet roars from its barrel. The alien’s weapon sends a thin beam of energy slicing at and past the gunslinger. We are looking at the action from enough of a distance that we can’t tell who is being hit.

SFX:
BOOM!

SFX:
ZEEEEEE!

PAGE SIX

Panel 1. The gunslinger has been sliced by the energy beam the alien fired. The beam punched through his ribcage and cut upward, cleaving his flesh all the way through and cutting a path from his ribcage up and out of his left shoulder. The gunslinger is still holding his weapon, and he is still miraculously alive for the moment. His face registers shock, but little pain. He is in his death throes.

Panel 2. The gunslinger falls in a heap to the dusty ground. He is very much dead now.

Panel 3. The alien has crossed the distance and approaches the body of the gunslinger. The alien has holstered its weapon. There’s no need for it now.

Panel 4. The alien holds the wrist of the gunslinger in one hand as it pries the gunslinger’s gun from his lifeless death grip with the other.

Panel 5. The alien walks away from the body of the gunslinger with his gun in its hand. In the background, the vultures are landing to feed.

PAGE SEVEN

Panel 1. The alien enters its ship, still holding the gunslinger’s gun in its hand. The ship is highly advanced with large viewscreens, a single misshapen chair, banks and panels of advanced circuitry and technology.

Panel 2. The alien approaches an ancient-looking display case that is as out of place in the advanced spaceship as the spaceship itself is in the barren wasteland outside. The display case is filled with western era guns of various kinds. Colt peacemakers, Schofield and Remington revolvers, various lever action rifles like the Yellowboy.

Panel 3. The alien reverently places the gun of the gunslinger into the case with all the others.

Panel 4. The alien has left the gun case in the background, and is operating one of the viewscreens by manipulating the advanced technology around it.

Panel 5. The alien watches the viewscreen as another gunslinger is shown trudging through the desert on the monitor.

How The West Was Weird - Part 3

2010-03-04T08:39:00.001-08:00

I fell a little bit behind in my reading, and I'm only able to review one of the last three stories today. I'll review the others tomorrow and add them to this post, and yes, I'll be posting my one word script as well. To make up for the lack of content today, I've decided I'd talk a little bit more about one of the other stories I tried to write for "How the West Was Weird". After I wimped out of writing my Daniel Boone in space story, Russ Anderson (editor extraordinaire) kept on me to try and write something for the book. And I did want to, people... I really did. So when Russ sent me the finished cover by Jim Rugg, I set out to try and write a story based on that. I figured it might be a little easier to put a story together with some visual stimulation behind it. But I was in a bad way with my writing last year, and although I was trying anything I could to get out the funk, nothing seemed to be working. But a couple of ideas did spark from the cover. The first was a story about a gunslinger being inexorably drawn through the desert to an alien presence. Once there, the gunslinger would be compelled to gun the alien down - if he could. The idea was that the alien was collecting the hardware of various gunslingers through the Wild West. Kind of like how the alien in "Predator" was always collecting the skulls and/or spines of his prey. Here's a few snippets of the eventually abandoned story...

*

The sun was a bloated teardrop of fire in a cloudless sky. The wanderer had been wandering for days through a desolate wasteland that stretched before him with no end in sight. His boots scuffed the barren ground and wisps of dust rose in their wake.

The drumbeat in his head drove him onward.

A shadow slipped between the wanderer’s feet and slithered along the dusty ground. He lifted his head to track it, and the sun framed the savage outline of a vulture circling overhead. Pain sunk its teeth into the eyes of the wanderer as the sun blazed. He let his chin fall down to his chest.

*

The iron twirled with seamless precision and was replaced. The other approached the crumpled body of the wanderer and plucked it from the desolate landscape like a withering weed. The vultures crept near, but the other paid them no consideration. It stripped the wanderer, peeling each layer carefully away. The bones of the wanderer snapped as the other carelessly pried the cherished iron from his unresponsive fingers. When it was finished, the other allowed the wanderer to fall once more to the dusty bowl of earth. The vultures lifted their wings in open gratitude and rushed forward, curved beaks snapping greedily at the air. The other picked its way calmly back to its lair, carefully traversing the tangled remains of the wanderers that had come before. The sound of tearing flesh filled the silence.

The iron was placed reverently among the others, and the other quietly admired the craftsmanship of its newest addition. Long months had been spent on this planet, and the time for additional acquisitions was growing short. The other cast its mind outward across the desolate landscape, scrabbling like a starving vulture for scraps of flesh. The drumbeat began anew.

*

What's there isn't too bad, I don't think. Not great, but not terrible either. I just couldn't bring myself to finish it. What you read, if you did read it, was the first and last paragraphs of the story. There wasn't much else written. I knew how I wanted it to start, and I knew how I wanted it to end, and I had an idea of how it would go in-between. But after numerous false starts the story withered on the vine. I came up with another story based on the cover image, and got about 2,200 words into that one as well, but that's enough lamenting for this installment. There's stories that were finished for the book, after all, and they're begging to be reviewed!

The seventh story of "How the West Was Weird" is titled "You Need to Know What's Coming" by Ian Mileham. The title is apt, not only because of the content of the story, but also because I never saw this story coming. It absolutely blew me away. The story starts with a man meeting a woman named Ms. McCullough for the first time. He falls for her immediately, but her interest in him is of a more professional nature. She shows him a large, precious stone and asks him to escort her to the place she believes more of them might be located. The reason she believes this is because a man dying of snakebite and starvation gave her the stone just before he passed, hinting that more of them could be found in an old ghost town. Only three men in the town are aware of the location of the ghost town, and McCollough has decided her newfound guide is the most desperate of the bunch. The man reluctantly agrees to lead McCollough and the two men with her out to the ghost town. During the ride we're blessed with more information regarding McCollough, the men she rides with, and the narrator of the story, the guide, who describes the landscape, his riding companions and his own doubts and fears in vivid detail. The story is a clinic in both the use of metaphor to describe the setting and emotions that frame the tale, along with intelligent, well-placed dialogue that leads you to believe that each character is searching for more than what is eventually made apparent. Once the party reaches their destination, the motivations of the guide and Ms. McCollough are revealed in stark detail as they fight for their lives in the ghost town of Blood Rock. When the dust has settled, the story slows down only long enough to sweep you up again with a classic twist ending. I admit that I saw it coming, but my accurate prediction made it no less enjoyable.

And, as promised, reviews for the last two stories...

"Of All the Plagues a Lover Bears" by Derrick Ferguson is the eighth story in the book, and this is another case of the title catching my eye. I'm not sure if the title of the story is a quote from elsewhere or not, as I didn't have time to seek it out, but it is spoken by the main character, Sebastian Red, during a quiet moment in the story. One of the very few quiet moments in the story, as it turns out, because this yarn is nearly wall-to-wall action. Sebastian Red is a large, powerful man with an ancient, 7-shot pistol on one hip and a 5-foot sword on the other. He rides an immense horse named Ra, and throughout the course of the story Sebastian Red outwits demons, tramples, guns down and slices zombies to ribbons, and burns an entire town to the ground. And yet, the dizzying pace of the action is framed by a love story between a man and a woman that struggles to breach the differences between them. Everything about this story is to the point, from the action, to the dialogue and beyond. Not a word is wasted, and you're swept along at a torrid pace as a result.

The ninth and final story of the book is titled "Out South of Borachon Creek" by Bill Kte'pi. The story is about a man named Frank Train living in a backwater portion of New Mexico. And when I say the story is about a man named Frank Train, that's exactly what I mean. We delve into everything that makes Frank who he is over the course of the story. We're introduced to his family, his job and the place he lives and what he thinks about each. Frank is in the midst of a bit of a mid-life crisis, and struggles to make heads or tails of things as he goes about his daily business. The story takes place in modern times, but the setting and the ruminations Frank goes through regarding his past and his present give the story a nostalgic feel. Frank eventually comes to a crossroads, both literally and figuratively, and runs across a mysterious man dressed as a scarecrow. The scarecrow and Frank talk about what it means to sell your soul in such a wistful and casual manner, and Frank decides to sell his soul to the man dressed as a scarecrow before they part ways. Frank returns to his life with his regrets, guilt and responsibilities still firmly in place. Did Frank really sell his soul? We never know for sure, but although the story doesn't end with a riveting climax, the realism inherent in the character of Frank makes for a completely relatable tale. I'm not sure how western it was, put it was plenty weird... and plenty good.

How The West Was Weird - Part 2

2010-03-03T07:14:00.001-08:00

So the last time we talked about the book I mentioned how I hadn't managed to finish the story that I'd been asked to write for it, and I also reviewed the first three stories. So I figure this time I'll talk a little bit more about the story I didn't write, and review the next three stories in the book. My final installment will talk about the story I decided to write instead of the original story I'd planned to write, and how I how I didn't write that one either... and I'll review the final three stories in the book. Good times!

So my idea for the story I wanted to include in the book dealt with Daniel Boone. Now, I realize that Daniel Boone was more of a "frontier" guy rather than a "western" guy, but I figured I could probably get away with the story considering it wasn't taking place on Earth. Stay with me now. The idea I had was to write about Daniel Boone... in space! While I was reading up on Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie and various other frontiersmen I came across this interesting quote by Daniel Boone...

I can't say as ever I was lost, but I was bewildered once for three days.

The quote immediately raised my hackles. This was a soldier and a hunter, the guy that blazed the Wilderness Road, saved his daughter from a Native American war party of Shawnee that later killed his brother during a hunting trip, and when captured by those same Native Americans duped them into believing he was on their side long enough to escape and warn of their impending attack. He founded his own city, and also fought valiantly in the Revolutionary War, where he lost his son. What could possibly have bewildered this man?

And then I read how Boone had also been famous for going on extended treks into the wilderness known as long hunts that could last up to six months or more. Sometimes he'd take a couple of hunters along, but most times he went off by himself, accumulating hundreds of deerskins. In fact, the slang term for dollar, "buck", was primarily coined because of the massive amounts of deerskins sold to fur traders during this era. But anything could happen to man out there on his own in the wilderness all by his lonesome. What if he was visited by some otherworldly travelers that had heard of his exploits as a soldier and hunter and needed him to help them? Daniel Boone was a celebrity even in his own time, so it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to think that an advanced civilization might have heard of him. The possibilities for stories at that point are endless. And perhaps a little too endless, because when it came time to write the story I was bewildered as well.

But enough about that! Let's get to the reviews!

The fourth story in "How the West Was Weird" is titled "Don Cuevo's Curative" by Thomas Deja. The story is about a young boy that is possessed by a little boy and the struggles the township faces in getting rid of the demon. After numerous failed attempts at exorcising the demon, the town desperately contacts Don Cuevo, a mysterious practitioner of the dark arts that might be a snake oil salesman, or might be something more. Don Cuevo responds by sending his female assistant in advance of his arrival, who dutifully prepares the town for a proper exorcism. I admire the way Deja sets up the story. There's just enough going on to keep the reader invested until Don Cuevo arrives. One of the best aspects of the story is that the narrator is one of the more grounded, relatable characters, so as he's caught up in the strange world of Don Cuevo and his assistant, Dolores, the reader is brought right along for the ride. This is an essential connection for the reader to make, because once Don Cuevo does arrive things take a turn towards the bizarre relatively quickly. Another thing that appealed to me about the story was the similarities it had to another story about a mysterious man that visits a town being plagued by sinister forces and takes all the advantage he can before saving them, Clint Eastwood's "High Plains Drifter". In that story there was a strong motivation behind Eastwood's abuse of the town, while Don Cuevo seems to do it only because he knows he's needed, but the spirit is there and I enjoyed it. The confrontation between the demon and Don Cuevo was tense and satisfying, and although the ending probably wasn't as strong as it could have been, this was another story I thoroughly enjoyed.

Speaking of stories I thoroughly enjoyed, Mike McGee and Chris Munn's "The Town With No Name" also seemed to have shades of "High Plains Drifter" spun into its prose. The story is about a hard man named Carston who arrives at a small town in Virginia filled with seemingly churchgoing, honest, wholesome and utterly defenseless people. The town is ripe for the plucking, and Carston might have been just the man to do it if he hadn't arrived squirming on his belly from the various injuries he'd received before his arrival. He's nursed to health in a variety of ways by an enchanting woman named Jenny, who just happens to be the wife of the mayor of the town. During his recovery, Carston is told by the mayor that the township will be visited by villainous outsiders, and that the town needs his help to drive them away. Carston speculates that the outsiders would be interested in the golden cross nestled atop the church in town, as it was the beacon that guided him to the town's doorstep. But when the outsiders finally do arrive, it turns out to be Carston they were after all along, for the town has a secret that has kept them in God's good graces. One of the other excellent aspects of the story is the internal war being raged with Carston throughout. His injuries came about when he rebelled against a group of bandits he'd been running with, after they went a little too far, and as a result Carston is pulled in opposing directions by his nature, his guilt over what he's done, and something bubbling just under the surface of the town and the people within it he can't quite put his finger on. It all leads to an excellent climax, which for me was almost like a twist ending turned on its ear.

The sixth story in "How the West Was Weird" is titled "Sins of the Past" by Barry Reese, a story starring an Atlanta-based masked hero of 1940's called the Rook. The Rook is a pulp-inspired crimefighter that has fought in battles spanning the globe, but when he appropriates a unique box from a thief that crumbles to dust before his eyes, the Rook is drawn into a new type of battle - this one spanning time itself. The story is divided into four short chapters, which frame the story well, but although the tale stands on its own, there are times when the narrative is slowed somewhat by snippets of backstory concerning past exploits of the Rook. This is a minor complaint, however, as the action is crisp enough to compensate for it. The story is an excellent introduction to the Rook, and a worthy inclusion to the book.

How The West Was Weird - Part 1

2010-03-02T09:11:00.000-08:00

So today I'm going to talk a little bit about a book that just came out from Pulpwork Press called "How the West Was Weird". I'm intimately familiar with this book because I was asked to contribute a story for it last year while it was being put together. I agreed to do just that, but last year was an unfortunate one for me regarding my writing, and I dropped the ball. The story I had in mind would have fit the book perfectly, I think, and I may still do something with it at some point down the line as either a short comic or as an addition to a potential sequel to "How the West Was Weird". But enough about me. Let's talk about the book itself.

"How the West Was Weird" is a collection of nine short stories with a western theme that are, in a word, weird. The coordinator/editor of the book (and a friend of mine), Mr. Russ Anderson, has put together a fabulous collection of yarns. Some of the stories have a horror bent to them, and some of them lean towards the pulpier side of things, but each of the stories is infinitely entertaining. The image you're looking at above is the cover of the book, and was done by comic artist Jim Rugg. I love looking at the cover, and the image above hardly does the real thing justice. The smooth, vibrant colors and sharp lines with their heavy hatching are best experienced while holding the book in your hands. The composition is genius in its simplicity, with a lone gunmen staring down a decidedly alien aggressor. The barren landscape and the burning sun above it frames the scene perfectly - and even the sparse lettering of the title works wonders, with the ghostly, seemingly heat-washed words leading to the stark, in-your-face WEIRD directly below. You know what this book is all about before you ever crack it open.

But you should crack it open, because the stories within are a delight. Reviewing each of them would make this one of the longest blog posts I've ever done, so what I've decided to do is make this "How the West Was Weird Week" at my blog, and break up my reviews into multiple posts. The first story done for the book is entitled "Camazotz" by Josh Reynolds. Remember in my previous post when I mentioned Aztec vampires gorging themselves on a Mexican village? You'll find all that and more in this story. It starts off with a confrontation between two men in a sweltering cantina. One is calm and composed and the other is haggard and distressed, and one of them doesn't leave the cantina alive. The meeting between the two men is over a mysterious golden mask the distressed man went through hell to acquire. But the unique thing about this mask, despite its appearance, is that it's still afixed to the ancient, rotting corpse of the last person to wear it. The entire time you're reading the story you're itching to find out what the face underneath the mask will reveal, and when it finally does happen there's no disappointment... except perhaps for the poor sucker that pulled it away. Reynolds masterfully spins his tale, keeping it tense and taut throughout, and despite the brevity of the story it is one killer opener.

The second story is entitled "Wyrm Over Diablo" by Joel Jenkins. The story begins just as "Camazotz" did, with a tense confrontation between two people sitting at a table, only this one takes place in the dining car of a passenger train hurtling toward its doom. This tale is pulp at its finest as the main character, a brooding, sharpshooting Indian known as Lone Crow struggles against supernatural forces to save not only his lady love, but the entire complement of passengers on the train. Joel brilliantly sweeps us along at a frantic pace as Lone Crow races from car to car in an effort to bring the nefarious plans of the antagonists - not to mention the speeding train - to a halt, and his descriptions of the massive, potentially world-devouring Wyrm are so foreboding that it sends shivers down your spine. Lone Crow is a practical, refreshing sort of hero, unconcerned with what people think of his choices or actions. Despite the heavy reliance on supernatural elements, the story is relatable because the character of Lone Crow grounds the story with his matter-of-fact statements and penchant for punching, shooting or blowing up anything that gets in his way. Lone Crow is a hero you can get behind, and the story shines because of it.

The third story is entitled "Space Miners" by Ian Taylor. The title alone made me straighten in my chair as I sat down to read it. The story takes place in the distant future, in a desolate field of meteorites somewhere out in the depths of space. But despite the outlandish time and setting, the story Ian crafts has even more of a western flavor than the two stories preceeding it. A unit of miners comes across a ship rustling valuable meteorites from their field. The miners capture the ship, and discover the inhabitants are three alien beings known as Ala'rai. The miners capture the rustlers, and hoping to avoid any additional trouble give the three ornery aliens the option to turn tail and run, but the situation immediately takes a turn for the worse when the lead Ala'rai tells them that his father, a particularly menacing and notorious Ala'rai with a taste for human flesh called Tommy Khan, will be coming to spring them. It doesn't take long for the lead Ala'rai's prediction to come to fruition, and the resulting gunfight between the aliens and the humans is the perfect climax to the story. Ian also does a great job of introducing subtle details into his tale. The speech the characters use has subtle hints of the old west, and the main character even sports a Stetson. Though the miners are all intelligent, extensively educated men that would normally rely on their brains to solve problems, there's something about doing work on a desolate rock in the middle of space that brings the cowboy out in them, and the final imagery Ian uses to highlight this fact worked perfectly.

So that's all for this installment. Tomorrow I'll tackle three more of the stories included in the book, and if you like what you're hearing even a little bit I hope you'll give it a try.

Do you people ever sleep?

2010-03-01T08:16:00.000-08:00

Goodness. I think I'm going to be spending half the day just catching up on all the blog posts people made over the weekend. You'll hardly ever see me post a blog entry over the weekend. I feel like I post enough of these articles during the week that the weekend can be reserved for other types of writing, spending time with my family, and even going outdoors to feel the sun on my face from time to time. So that's what I do. But while I'm doing all that, the people running the various blogs I subscribe to are producing work at a frightening clip. Most of the people I follow are fellow comics creators of one stripe or another. I follow a ton of artists, a few writers and even an editor or two. Some of the artists are doing their own writing, others are working with writers, and some are doing both at the same time. Some of the writers are struggling like I am, while others are established veterans of the industry living the life I covet. The editors have insider tips and/or suggestions for improvement that are always a pleasure to read about. The number of blogs I'm following is already up around thirty or so, and it's growing all the time. I created this blog at the beginning of the year, after all, so there's still plenty of time to increase the number. Some bloggers are busier than others, but they're all busy enough that looking over the work they've produced over the two and a half days that I've been away can keep me occupied for hours at a time. So have mercy on my poor soul, you workaholics, and slow down!

Speaking of posting to my blog and following more and more awesome creators, I'd like to direct a few of you over to the blog of Jim Rugg. Jim is an amazingly talented artist responsible for the comic "Street Angel" published by Slave Labor Graphics and the uproarious "Afrodisiac". He's also done work for DC Comics and other various publishers. But that's not all! Jim also recently provided cover art for a project titled "How the West was Weird", a collection of short prose stories dedicated, but not limited, to - and I quote:

"Aztec vampires that gorge themselves on a small Mexican village! A masked hero of the 1940's that stumbles onto a town that time forgot! A gunslinging exorcist that works to save a boy from demonic possession! These are the stories of the American west your history teacher never told you about... because she was scared!"

I kind of hate my history teacher right now for depriving me of these stories for so long! The book is published by Pulpwork Press and is available for ordering now, and I strongly endorse doing so. It should also be noted that I had the opportunity to contribute to this book, and one of my biggest regrets of the previous year is that I dropped the ball and never finished my story. I was in quite the shame spiral over that for a good long while. The project was edited and coordinated by a good friend of mine named Russ Anderson, who I've worked with numerous times in the past. He doesn't have a story in the book, but he's a hell of a writer to boot. In his infinite wisdom, he's asked me to be a part of a blog tour promoting the book.

The first day of the blog tour is today, and Jim Rugg has tackled those duties. If you head over to his blog (linked above, remember?) you can view his thoughts on creating the cover for the book along with a ton of sketches, preliminary designs and other eye candy for your viewing pleasure. I, for one, love it when an artist shows the process he went through creating a unique piece of art, so I think the first post in the blog tour is a real treat. Tomorrow I'll be stepping into the batter's box to try my hand at promoting the book. I'm technically doing that today, as well, but tomorrow I'll be talking about the story I had in mind for the book and how I failed to pull through in the clutch, along with my thoughts on the stories that actually are included in the book. If you like westerns or weird stuff I hope you'll give this little book of stories a try. With nine stories, 152 pages of action and oddities, and a humble price tag of 11.95 -- I think it's well worth the price of admission.

ONE WORD - WEEK 7 - FAULT

2010-02-26T09:56:00.000-08:00

The word for the seventh installment of this exercise was fault. The first thing that came to mind was earthquakes because of fault lines. I live in California, after all, and Lex Luthor would have sank us into the ocean because of those pesky fault lines if it hadn't been for you, Superman!

Erhm... sorry about that. Anyway, there's also the fact that you can't turn on the television without somebody famous asking you to donate money to the relief efforts in Haiti. Not that I'm complaining about that or anything, mind you. I'm just saying... I've got earthquakes on the brain. But I inevitably decided to go in a different direction. My last two scripts were pretty heavy on the panel description and light on the dialogue, so I decided to reverse course and drive this puppy with the talking heads.

PAGE ONE

Panel 1. A young man named Carlson is sitting in one of those swiveling, ergonomic office chairs at his workstation in a nondescript cubicle. He is wearing a long-sleeved, button-up, collared shirt with a tie and slacks. Office work clothes. He is busily typing away at the computer sitting on his workstation. There is an office phone with a display of buttons sitting close at hand on the workstation, and the workstation itself and the walls of the cubicle are decorated with photos, a cup of pens, coffee mug, stapler, and other assorted odds and ends necessary to survive a day of work spent in a cubicle. We should be looking at Carlson from an angle that provides us a view of the top of the cubicle. An attractive female intern is strolling past Carlson’s cubicle as he works. It is important that we’re able to see this over the top of the cubicle as it sets up the next panel.

Panel 2. Another young man named Johnson is peering over the wall of Carlson’s cubicle and speaking to Carlson. Carlson has stopped working and is looking up at Johnson inquisitively.

JOHNSON:
Better keep your head down today, Carlson.

CARLSON:
Why? What’s going on?

Panel 3. Johnson is entering the cubicle, and Carlson has swiveled in his chair slightly to regard Johnson. Johnson seems slightly unkempt in contrast to the neater Carlson. Johnson’s shirt isn’t tucked in very well, wrinkles in his clothing, and maybe his hair is a little disheveled. Stuff like that.

JOHNSON:
The boss is on the warpath. He wants somebody’s head on a platter.

CARLSON:
I guess that’s better than having it on a spit.

Panel 4. Johnson is holding a pen upright in his closed fist as if he would hold a tiny sword or a spear (or a pike!). Carlson is looking at the pen and smiling slightly.

JOHNSON:
Yeah, or a pike.

CARLSON:
Yeah--so what happened?

Panel 5. Johnson is shrugging his shoulders as he speaks to Carlson. Carlson is barely paying attention to Johnson now, fiddling absent-mindedly with one of the objects on his desk.

JOHNSON:
Aw, you know--the usual. Some document didn’t get faxed on time and he got chewed out for it, so now he’s trying to figure out whose fault it was so he can do some chewing of his own.

CARLSON:
That figures. So what was the document?

Panel 6. Johnson is leaning casually against the wall of Carlson’s cubicle as he speaks to him. Carlson has turned around to face Johnson again, and this time he’s much more interested in what Johnson has to say. He’s leaning forward slightly in his chair.

JOHNSON:
One of the quarterly reports for the Peterson file.

CARLSON:
Aw, crap. I was doing work on the Peterson file.

JOHNSON:
I know it. That’s why I’m over here. I tried to warn Jennings, but he already got called in. I’m sure the boss man is reaming him a new one as we speak.

PAGE TWO

Panel 1. Carlson has leaned back in his chair, slightly relieved. Johnson is still leaning against Carlson’s cubicle, but his arms are crossed in front of his chest now.

CARLSON:
Oh, okay. So it should be cool then, right?

JOHNSON:
Only if Jennings says it was on him. He’s the third victim this morning. Simmons and Polanski already took their beatings. I saw them a few minutes ago looking like walking wounded.

Panel 2. Carlson has thrown his hands into the air in frustration and turned away from Johnson. Johnson is watching him with a thin smile.

CARLSON:
Well that’s just great. I sure as hell hope it was Jennings that did it, because I wasn’t asked to fax any documents for the Peterson file.

JOHNSON:
Oh, I know it wasn’t you. I’m the one that was supposed to fax the file.

Panel 3. Carlson is looking back at Johnson with an incredulous expression. Johnson has dropped down to one knee so he is at Carlson’s level.

CARLSON:
What? Johnson, if you’re the one that was supposed to do it, why are you letting the boss go on his rampage?

JOHNSON:
Because if somebody else says it was their fault, then I’m in the clear.

Panel 4. Carlson is looking at Johnson with a flat expression. Johnson is still smiling faintly.

Panel 5. Same panel as before, only now Carlson is animated as he berates Johnson.

CARLSON:
Are you kidding me right now? That’s seriously messed up.

Panel 6. Johnson is using the flat edge of one of his hands and making a chopping motion into the flat palm of his other hand. Carlson is pointing an accusing finger at Johnson.

JOHNSON:
I’m dead serious, man. I really don’t want to take the fall for this one. I think I’m on the chopping block as it is if you know what I’m saying.

CARLSON:
So why are you telling me then? I could just walk in there and tell the boss it was your fault.

Panel 7. Johnson is looking at Carlson with a smug grin. Carlson looks like he wants to amck it off of Johnson’s face.

JOHNSON:
Yeah, but you won’t do that.

CARLSON:
Why the hell not?

PAGE THREE

Panel 1. Johnson is shrugging and speaking in a casual, carefree manner again.

JOHNSON:
Because you’re a nice guy, C-money. If you go tell the boss it was my fault, I’ll get fired. And if I get fired, I’ll be out of a job. And if I’m out of a job, I’ll have to look for a new one. And I obviously won’t be able to use this one as a reference--because I got fired. It might take me months to get a new job, and I’m living paycheck to paycheck as it is.

Panel 2. Carlson is incredulous again as he reacts to what Johnson just said. Johnson is holding up the index and middle fingers of one of his hands to indicate the number two to Carlson.

CARLSON:
You make more than I do!

JOHNSON:
True--but I got expenses, man. Did you know I’m divorced with two kids?

CARLSON:
You’re twenty-four years old!

Panel 3. Johnson is shrugging in his easygoing, infuriating manner again. Carlson is rolling his eyes.

JOHNSON:
What can I say? I matured early in life.

CARLSON:
That’s debatable.

Panel 4. The phone sitting on Carlson’s workstation is ringing, and both Carlson and Johnson are looking at it like deer caught in the headlights.

SFX:
Breeet. Breeet.

Panel 5. Johnson is nudging Carlson gently with his elbow and gesturing with his chin in the direction of the phone. Carlson is glaring icily at Johnson.

SFX:
Breeet. Breeet.

JOHNSON:
You should probably answer that, man. Could be the boss.

CARLSON:
Mmm, yeah. Thanks for that.

PAGE FOUR

Panel 1. Carlson has his finger extended and is pushing a button on the phone. Johnson is watching Carlson with a pleading expression as he talks to the receptionist.

CARLSON:
This is Carlson.

PHONE:
Mr. Carlson--Mr. Winters would like to see you in his office.

CARLSON:
Okay--thanks, Judy.

Panel 2. Carlson has dropped his face into his hands. Johnson is gripping Carlson on the shoulder and shaking him lightly. The expression on Johnson’s face is bright and encouraging.

CARLSON:
Ugh. I really hate you, dude.

JOHNSON:
C’mon, big guy. Just take one for the team. You can handle that stodgy prick way better than me. And I know he’d never fire you. You’re like his golden boy.

Panel 3. Carlson has whirled on Johnson and is pointing a finger at him menacingly. Johnson has drawn back somewhat with his hands raised to about face level with the palms facing outward toward Carlson, trying to look as harmless as possible.

CARLSON:
If you’re trying to flatter me, calling me golden boy ain’t the way to get it done--and I’m not taking one for the team, Johnson. I’m taking one for your sorry ass.

Panel 4. Carlson is pushing his chair away from his workstation and the crouching Johnson. Johnson is looking at Carlson with supreme gratitude, as Carlson has finally relented.

JOHNSON:
So you’re actually gonna do it?

CARLSON:
Yes, Johnson. I’m actually going to do it.

Panel 5. Johnson is pumping his fist with one hand as he uses Carlson’s chair to help him get to his feet. Carlson is already standing, and he is looking at something outside of the entrance of the cubicle that we cannot see. His face is surprised and mortified.

JOHNSON:
Yes! You’re the man, Carlson. I won’t forget this!

PAGE FIVE

Panel 1. Mr. Winters is standing just outside of Carlson’s cubicle. Carlson is using one hand to scratch absently at the back of his head as he tries to think of something (anything!) to say. Johnson is on his feet now and sees Mr. Winters too. He’s reacting with disappointment at having been caught, slapping the palm of one of his hands to his forehead. Mr. Winters is holding a mug of steaming coffee in one of his hands, and he’s fuming nearly as bad as the piping hot drink.

CARLSON:
Oh, uh--hey, Mr. Winters, sir. Have you been here long?

JOHNSON:
Ah, crap.

It's your world, squirrel

2010-02-23T08:20:00.001-08:00

I've been noticing lately that this blog has become completely devoted to my experiences concerning the Digital Webbing Presents - Future Fairy Tales project and my oneword.com script exercises. I really haven't talked about much of anything else since the Zuda project I was working on fell through. I think the reason for that is actually because the Zuda project fell through. I'm one of those writers that sometimes has a hard time talking about what he's working on because I'll talk and talk... and talk about it instead of, y'know, actually working on it. I'm actively working against those tendencies this year with the one word project, but I still have this little bug of a fear whispering in my ear that tells me that if I keep blabbering on and on about the stuff I'm working on I'll psyche myself out of doing it.

And this is even if talking about it didn't derail the project. The Zuda project, for instance, wasn't tabled because I lost my motivation or anything like that. The script was written, it was in the hands of the artist, and all systems were go. It's just that once the artist started producing I realized things weren't working out. The styles didn't match. And that happens sometimes, and it's better to figure that out right at the start rather than months down the line after everybody's time has been wasted. Dario Carrasco did the original designs for the concept, with a very distinct style, and the artist we were working with was taking things in an entirely different direction. And the direction was so different that I don't think the project would have stood much of a chance at Zuda if we'd submitted it. Not that I'm saying the art was bad, or that the script wasn't good enough -- but I honestly feel like things really have to mesh if you're going to create a successful comic. The story has to compliment the art and the art has to compliment the story or readers will notice. They might not notice it right away, but in a competitive atmosphere like Zuda where every vote counts you can't leave anything to chance.

So I didn't. And I feel like it was the right decision. Sometimes I don't feel like I'm doing enough to make an impact as a writer. I'm not writing enough, and I'm not taking advantage of the resources that are available to me. Zuda is a resource, for example, and I should be tapping it for all I'm worth and all that. But that's another issue that I'm working to solve as I continue to produce this year. What are my goals, and what is the most likely path to achieving them? If I can't figure that out, all the one word scripts and anthology stories and Zuda submissions in the world aren't going to amount to much. I don't have it all figured out yet, but I'm working on it. I'm gradually chipping away at this massive slab of granite to carve out a niche for myself. And there's always this temptation to take a jackhammer to it instead, to take shortcuts that will get you to whatever you percieve as the finish line a little bit faster. But if you use that jackhammer it's possible you'll end up with formless hunks of rock instead of a polished sculpture at the end of your labors. You'll get to that finish line, but you won't have grown from the experience, and you won't be prepared for the next arduous race.

So for now I'm just writing. I'm plugging away as gradually as I can while I figure out all the rest of it. And I'm all right with that. It's not my world, after all. I don't need the whole thing. I'm just trying to get a nut.

The DWPFF Journey - Part 7

2010-02-22T07:42:00.000-08:00

The last time we talked about the "Digital Webbing Presents - Future Fairy Tales" project, I mentioned that I'd sent another script to my editor, Chris Stevens. This script had an ending that consisted of a colleague of the father of the little boy in the story narrating the tale as a history lesson to a classroom of students, all with nanobot pets of their own. My idea for this was that once the nanobot mongoose saved the little boy, it was used as a template to revolutionize medical care. So all of the students needed to form a loving bond with their own nanobot pets as well, and the classroom scene was what I used to visualize it. I liked the idea of the relationship between the little boy and the nanobot changing things for the better, and I felt like the climax of the story was pretty good. I'd even heard positive things about the ending from Chris prior to writing it, as we'd brainstormed the idea together.

So I sent the script in, and I waited for Chris to get back to me. The addition of the classroom ending swelled the script back up to 12 pages. The first script, also 12 pages, had been sent on the 7th of November, and all the tweaks we'd made cutting it down to 8 pages and then eventually ramping it back up to 12 pages took around two weeks. By the time Chris had the latest script in hand, it was the 21st of November and it was getting to the point where we needed this to be done so we could find an artist to bring it to life. Chris got back to me the next day, and this is the email he sent...

I like this, Mike. Time to show it to artists!

...

That's it!? Yeah, that's right--because I'm the paranoid sort, I thought this was entirely too simple an email. The egotistical writer in me was thrilled that Chris liked the script, but something about the brevity of the email gave me pause. I knew Chris was busy, but it was an itch I just had to scratch. So I sent the following...

I'm glad you like it, Chris. I was actually expecting you to knock me down a peg or two, as I don't think it matches up at all to the scripts you and J-Rod put together.

J-Rod is another uber-talented writer/editor named Jason Rodriguez who was also contributing a story for the project, his based on Pinnochio, but talking about his and Chris' and some of the other entires out there is another post entirely. At any rate, I'd thrown down the gauntlet, and Chris - and I'll always be thankful to him for doing this - responded in kind.

If I was going to be tough I'd want more of a connection to the source material. But the script works, has a good heart, and to be honest, I need to get these scripts all out of the way. If it was September I'd be asking you to get more Rikki Tikki in there.

Okay, everybody... I want you to imagine for a moment that you're this massive blue whale. I'm talking about the undisputed king of the sea. Sharks see you, and they turn tailfin and run like little baby seals approached by a clubber. You're swimming out in the ocean having the time of your life, self-assured in the fact that you're the biggest, baddest mammal on the planet and nothing could possibly challenge you...

And then you're harpooned.

It was literally like a punch to the gut. Like a kick to the balls. The story, as I'd written it, worked. It did. It had a good heart. It was a heartfelt story that worked. I'm telling you it worked liked gangbusters. But it WASN'T RIKKI TIKKI TAVI! In my absolute and overwhelming desire to create this entertaining, clever story, I'd shuffled away from the essence of the original entertaining, clever story. I'd written a script that only connected to the original Rikki Tikki Tavi by including something that looked kind of similar to a mongoose. That was basically it. I knew, right there and then, that I couldn't let it end like this. So I emailed Chris, and I told him that I wished it was September. And he emailed me back and told me that if I could write another draft of the script in a day or two that he'd look it over, but that a day or two would be all the time I'd have because time was of the essence. Chris told me this on the 23rd of November, and by the 26th of November I had re-written the entire 12-page script. Was this the one? Had I finally accomplished what I'd set out to do from the very beginning, and written a proper ode to Rudyard Kipling's masterpiece? We'll discuss that next time!

ONE WORD - WEEK 6 - BLADE

2010-02-19T10:24:00.000-08:00

So the word for week six of this experiment was blade. I didn't decide what I was going to write about until Wednesday night. I visited the oneword.com website on Monday as I normally do, and I got my word with no problem, but nothing really came to mind until I was more than halfway through the week. And although at three pages this is, by far, the shortest script I've written for this project, I'm still fairly satisfied with it. I'm not sure how much more I could have done to beef up the story, especially considering what I chose to write about and how I chose to approach it.

PAGE ONE

Panel 1. We’re looking at a cityscape with a park located smack dab in the middle of it. Buildings frame the trees and lawns of the park on all sides.

CAPTION:
Once upon a time there was a city. And in this city there was a park.

Panel 2. We’re looking at a beautiful meadow of grass near a walking/riding trail in the park. A sign is posted in the meadow of grass that reads “Keep Off”.

CAPTION:
And in this park there was a meadow. And in this meadow there was an abundance of grass.

Panel 3. We’re at the level of the individual blades of grass now. They are tall and lush and crisscrossing one another. We shouldn’t be able to see the ground the grass is springing up from though. It’s more like we’re looking up at the grass from the ground.

CAPTION:
The grass in this particular meadow was lush and vibrant, and it was not uncommon for people to admire it as they strolled by. This made the grass proud--and it grew as high and as fast as it could to please its admirers.

Panel 4. Now we’re truly at ground level, and smack dab in the middle of the long blades of grass is a much shorter blade of grass. The longer blades of grass tower over this short blade of grass, making it seem rather insignificant.

CAPTION:
All except for one little blade of grass.

PAGE TWO

Panel 1. The long blades of grass are in the foreground, and in the background we can see a trail leading off into the distance with people jogging, walking dogs, or taking a stroll on it.

CAPTION:
The longer blades of grass tried to convince the little blade of grass to grow with them so that it could experience the adulation of man’s admiration.

Panel 2. The tall blades of grass are blowing happily in the wind, and the small blade of grass is barely being ruffled by the wind at all.

CAPTION:
Or to grow to their height so that the small blade of grass could feel the same exhilaration they felt as the wind swept over them.

Panel 3. Rain is falling on the tall blades of grass and the small blade of grass, running down their sleek frames and collecting on the spongy ground.

CAPTION:
But even though he got his fair share of rain and sunshine the small blade of grass simply refused to grow.

Panel 4. The long blades of grass are surrounding the small blade of grass tightly on all sides.

CAPTION:
And when the long blades of grass mocked the short blade of grass for his diminutive size, and asked him why he didn’t grow like the rest of them, the short blade of grass simply replied--

Panel 5. Close in on the short blade of grass.

CAPTION:
I know something you don’t know.

PAGE THREE

Panel 1. A man is in the park near the meadow and is wrestling a lawnmower out of the opened back end of his pickup truck. The truck is parked on the walking/running trail, and there are orange cones warning any possible pedestrians to keep back.

CAPTION:
And so it was that one day a different sort of man arrived at the meadow in the park--a man the long blades of grass had never seen before. And the man brought along with him a machine.

Panel 2. The man is systematically mowing the meadow with the “Keep Off” sign. He’s already mowed a good portion of the meadow row-by-row, and is in the process of cutting another row.

CAPTION:
And with this machine the man provided the long blades of grass with a new experience to talk about to the small blade of grass. For in their vanity, the long blades of grass had grown too long, and were no longer admired as they once had been.

Panel 3. The man is mopping his brow as he admires the freshly cut lawn. The hand he’s not using to mop his brow is resting on the inactive lawnmower as he leans against it. The back end of the pickup truck is still open, and there is a cool drink sitting on it waiting to be tasted.

CAPTION:
Now because of the man and his machine the long blades of grass were long no longer, and when the man was finished using his machine he admired his handiwork with pride.

Panel 4. The long blades of grass have been chopped down to the size of the small blade of grass. Their tops are ragged and stumpy now, but the small blade of grass has been unaffected by the havoc the lawnmower has wreaked.

CAPTION:
The long blades of grass were dismayed. Their sleek and sweeping frames had been reduced to ragged stumps. The only one of them that could genuinely call itself a blade of grass was the little blade of grass, which was so small it hadn’t been touched. And as the long blades of grass wept over their misfortune, the small blade of grass could think of only one thing to say--

Panel 5. Close in on the small blade of grass surrounded by the mangled blades of grass around it.

CAPTION:
Told you so.

The DWPFF Journey - Part 6

2010-02-16T08:17:00.000-08:00

Holiday yesterday, so I didn't have the chance to get around to the DWPFF entry until today. The last time we talked about the DWPFF project I mentioned how the editors, Chris Stevens and James Powell, had provided me with enough guidance to start the first draft of my script. And they really did. Based on all the information I'd received from them, and primarily from James, I wrote up a new synopsis for the story that went a little something like this...

A brilliant doctor that has designed nanobots with the potential to cure any type of disease is sidetracked when his son is plagued with cancer and a brain tumor. The nanobots fail to cure his son, and the doctor decides to spend all his free time making his son as happy as possible before the end. A friend and colleague of the doctor visits hoping to convince him to continue his work and get his son the best treatment available. The doctor would rather his son be as happy as possible before the end, and so he reprogrammed the nanobots to be a companion to his son. The son has a seizure or stroke or something, and the doctors bring the boy inside for treatment. The nanobot pet sneaks into the room of the son, and the doctors notice it just as it disperses and enters the boy’s body. The nanobots journey with the boy in his memories, battling against the cancer and the brain tumor as the two doctors observe from the outside. Eventually the nanobots prevail against the sicknesses and the boy comes out of his coma revitalized and healthy. The doctors marvel at the intelligence of the nanobots, and realize that all that was necessary for them to work properly was the love of the little boy.

My idea was for the two snakes to be the two fatal diseases the boy had. One snake would be cancer, and the other snake would be a brain tumor. I decided that the father of the boy would design the nanites first, hoping to revolutionize the medical industry, and that his son getting sick would just be a coincidence. The nanites would fail, resulting in the father forming them into a robot to be a companion for his son. Eventually the son would have an attack or seizure of some sort, and the nanobot would overcome its limitations and save him.

At any rate, looking back on this now I see that it has some of the same problems my earlier efforts had. But at the time I thought it was pretty perfect and was told to go forward with it. This was in late September of last year. When I finally submitted my first draft of the script it was early November. Keep in mind that the script was only twelve pages long. One of the biggest problems I've had in becoming a writer is procrastination. I will always (always!) find something else to do before I write. For the first time, this year, I'm actively working against this terrible habit. I'm finding some success with the "one word" project that is seeping into other writing projects. But to say that I'm completely cured would be false (I could have written this entry yesterday, remember?). Last year was probably one of the roughest years I've had as a writer, and this script might have never been finished if Chris Stevens hadn't emailed me in late October to tell me that he'd be coming back aboard as my editor.

I'm pretty sure James had grown tired of not hearing from me. He'd asked me for a longer synopsis, page breakdowns, and given me plenty of food for thought--and I'd responded by not responding. I think the only thing I'll ever regret about this experience is squandering the chance to interact more with James Powell. He is a wonderful editor, and I really dropped the ball. Once Chris contacted me I sent him the synopsis above, and while I feel certain he had issues with it, he asked me to get a script together based on it as quickly as possible. Chris emailed me on the 25th of October. The last time I'd talked to anybody about the project was in late September. Chris was hoping I'd be able to get a first draft to him by the 1st of November, but I didn't end up sending him the script until the 7th.

The script wasn't all that bad. Chris said that he rather enjoyed it once it got moving, and in that spirit he asked me to cut the story down a bit so that it moved along a little quicker. Instead of fighting two diseases one after the other, Chris asked me to cut it down to one. The basic idea being that I was pretty much just telling the same story twice in one script. The original script I wrote took up the entire 12-page limit, so I cut the second scene of the nanobot vs. the disease and brought the page count down to 8. Once I'd done that I sent the script back to Chris. He still wasn't entirely satisfied. First, there wasn't enough interaction between the boy and his father. And second, I'd introduced a character that never appeared in the original Rikki Tikki Tavi story--the colleague of the father. My idea was for the colleague to be a counter-point to the way the father was dealing with his son's sickness. Where the father knew curing the disease was hopeless and just wanted his son to be as happy as possible before the end, the colleague spent his time arguing that treatment was still a viable option, and that perhaps the father could perfect his design of the nanites in the meantime. I felt like I needed a foil beyond the "snakes" because a strong portion of the story took place before the boy succumbed to his symptoms.

Chris didn't have a huge problem with the inclusion of the colleague in the script. What he had a problem with was my choice to make the colleague the driving force behind the story. The colleague was the one who witnessed the miraculous recovery of the boy, along with the father, and the colleague was the one who provided the narratative at the end. It was a larger role than the character needed to have. Chris and I butted heads over it for a while, at one point considering setting the ending in a classroom, years after the nanobot had saved the boy, with the colleague as a teacher instructing a roomful of youngsters all with their own nanobot pets. We'd even gotten to the point where I wrote a script with that exact ending. But when I sent it to Chris, fully expecting him to love it body and soul (even though I had my own reservations about it), he sent me back an email that changed everything. And we'll talk about that email and what came of the story because of it next time.

ONE WORD - WEEK 5 - GLANCE

2010-02-12T07:35:00.000-08:00

So this is my twentieth post of the new year. Woo! I think twenty posts in less than a month and a half is about as productive as you're going to see me be with this blog. I'm hoping I'll be able to keep it up. Didn't get around to doing a DWPFF Journey entry this week, or this would have been my twenty-first post, but I promise to have that done early next week.

The word for my fifth week doing this exercise was glance. I think I mentioned in a previous post that I had two immediate ideas about this one. The first was a Spider-Man story. I'd planned to take a long look at how Spidey survives taking all those harrowing punches from superhuman menaces. The idea was that basically he turns them all into glancing blows. The reason that idea came to mind is that while I'm striving to be a comic book writer, I haven't written any scripts to this point featuring comic book-style heroes. Not to say that I need to do that, or that that's what comic books are all about, because I don't believe that for a second. But it was just something that came to mind while I was considering the word I'd received. My second idea is the one I ultimately wrote about, and is directly below for your reading pleasure. I tried something a little different with this one, as there's no dialogue at all. I've told the story entirely within the confines of the panel descriptions. Did it work? I have no clue. But this was the easiest one word installment to date, so I'm either getting better at this or I just need to start cutting the dialogue from ALL my stories.

PAGE ONE

Panel 1. A teenage boy is sitting at the end of a long table in a crowded lunchroom. He has a tray of food in front of him with an apple, a pint of milk and an open bag of chips with a few spilling out. He’s holding a sandwich in his hands and eyeing it hungrily. There’s a lot of traffic in the lunchroom as other teenagers march to other tables holding their own trays of food, eat and chat amongst themselves and cause other types of lunchroom ruckus. The teenage boy holding the sandwich is at the center of it all, and there are only a few people sitting at his table. Nobody is sitting very close to him.

Panel 2. The teenage boy takes a large, glorious bite out of his sandwich.

Panel 3. The teenage boy has his mouth packed with food, with crumbs of it dropping from his lips and chin, and is looking over in the direction of a girl that is walking past his table. We are looking at the boy as he does this, so we should only be able to see the portion of the girl that is level with the boy’s head – basically the area of her torso and hips. She’s holding her own tray of food and making her way past the boy to some other table.

Panel 4. The girl is glancing back at the boy with a slightly flirty smile on her face as he looks up at her. His mouth has parted somewhat in astonishment that this attractive girl is paying him any notice at all.

PAGE TWO

Panel 1. We see the girl preparing to sit down at her own table one or two tables beyond the table the boy is sitting at. He is staring at her from his spot in the background, his mouth still partially agape. There are a number of girls sitting at the table the girl has chosen, and she seems pleased to see them.

Panel 2. The boy has his hand on his chin now and has a slightly slumped posture. His face has a dreamy expression, and his sandwich has been completely forgotten as he stares into space and begins to daydream.

Panel 3. The boy is sitting in a classroom at his high school. The girl is sitting beside him in the classroom and is passing him a very obvious love note (frilly paper folded into a heart or something like that). She is passing it to him with an underhand motion, in the standard high school technique. Other students are oblivious to what the couple is doing, and the teacher is writing something on the blackboard or going over a lesson and not paying a lick of attention. We are in the boy’s daydream now, so perhaps there’s a foggy quality to this panel and the others to follow.

Panel 4. The boy and the girl are walking home from school, and they’re holding hands kind of awkwardly. This is an entirely different period of time, not necessarily the same day as the passing of the notes, so giving them a different set of clothes or something of that nature would be fine. We’re basically just establishing the development of their relationship as it continues to be processed in the boy’s imagination.

Panel 5. The boy is in the living room of the girl’s house. She’s sitting next to him on the couch as the boy meets her parents for the first time. The girl seems very happy to be showing her boyfriend off to her parents. The father of the girl is sitting in a comfortable recliner glaring somewhat menacingly at the boy. The boy is extremely uncomfortable, and his expression should emphasize that. He might even be squirming a bit or pulling at the collar of his shirt or something like that. The mother of the girl is entering the living room with some snacks and seems very chipper.

PAGE THREE

Panel 1. The boy and the girl are dressed in formal attire at their final dance of high school (prom). They are gazing lovingly at one another as they dance together. Other couples are dancing around them, but they’re the primary focus of the scene. The theme of the dance can be anything that suits your fancy, but there should be some sort of banner explaining that this is prom. A band is playing music on a stage near the dance floor, and a few teachers are observing the action so it doesn’t get too hot or heavy.

Panel 2. The boy is nervously placing money on the desk of an employee in the lobby of a hotel. He has one hand placing bills on the counter, and the other is in his pocket. There should be some kind of sign on the desk or other indications (like people entering an elevator with baggage, a bellhop carrying luggage, something like that) that this is a hotel. The employee behind the desk is looking at the boy with narrowed eyes and a bit of a sneer. The boy is grinning sheepishly, obviously embarrassed. The girl is standing a bit away from the desk looking around absently at the scenery of the lobby of the hotel, obviously trying to avoid any eye contact whatsoever with the employee behind the desk.

Panel 3. The boy is standing by an idling car parked next to the curb near the girl’s house. The car is loaded with luggage. The boy is wearing a hooded sweatshirt with the large initials SCU (some college university) on the front. The father of the girl and the boy are shaking hands, and the father seems to have warmed up to the boy somewhat. The girl and her mother are hugging one another furiously as they say their goodbyes. The car has a sign on it that reads Good Luck or Off To College or something like that.

Panel 4. The boy and the girl are at some sort of sports game. They’re sitting together cheering their hearts out. The boy is shirtless, but his face and chest are painted with the school colors and SCU. The girl is wearing the hooded sweatshirt the boy had on in the previous panel and is also wearing gloves, a wooly hat and other articles of clothing to battle the cold. Both of them are breathing visible vapors as they cheer into the cold air.

Panel 5. College has ended, and we’re looking at a moving truck parked in the street outside of an apartment complex. The boy is moving a couch out of the truck and into the apartment complex with the help of one of his buddies. They’re both straining mightily with it. The girl and one of her own friends are holding small boxes and bringing up the rear. They’re chatting with one another happily as the guys struggle.

PAGE FOUR

Panel 1. The boy and the girl are in a beautiful, dimly lit restaurant. The girl is sitting at the table, but the boy is bent down on one knee in the traditional “marriage proposal” pose. He’s looking up at the girl as he opens a small box with an engagement ring inside. The girl is reacting with surprise and happiness at the sudden proposal. If there’s room for it, there might be a couple or two observing the action from their own tables, or perhaps a band or a violinist nearby complimenting the moment with a song.

Panel 2. The boy and the girl are getting married. They’re standing in the foreground with the guests attending the wedding stretching out behind them in the background. It is an outdoor wedding on a bright, sunlit day. The parents of the boy and the girl are sitting in the front row. All of them are watching happily, as are the rest of the guests, but the father of the girl (who was initially a hardcase) is holding a hanky and weeping a bit.

Panel 3. The boy is about to leave home for another day of work. He’s dressed in a suit and holding a briefcase. The girl, his wife, is standing near the door and giving him a kiss on the cheek as he prepares to depart. The girl is visibly pregnant, and holding a thermos of coffee for the boy to take before he leaves.

Panel 4. The boy and the girl are in the midst of childbirth in a hospital room. The girl is on the bed, soaked with sweat and straining mightily as a doctor barks orders at her from his position. The boy and the girl are holding hands, and the boy is bent down close to his wife trying his best to support and reassure her with his words.

PAGE FIVE

Panel 1. The boy and the girl are sitting in the front row of an auditorium watching their young daughter play the violin. We are looking up at the young child from directly behind the boy and the girl, who are now certainly a man and a woman, as they watch their child perform. The boy and the girl are shoulder to shoulder, and they are leaning their heads toward one another.

Panel 2. The boy, even older now, is standing outside near a stage as the girl hugs her daughter. The child is a teenager now, and is dressed in the cap and gown of a high school graduate. She’s clutching a diploma in her hand. The boy is holding a bouquet of flowers to give to his daughter.

Panel 3. The girl, now an even older woman, is smiling warmly and standing amongst a throng of people all shouting happily in the direction of the boy, now a much older man, as he enters the large living room they’re all gathered in. A banner that reads “Happy Retirement” is strung over the heads of the people gathered in the room. The boy’s daughter, now a grown woman herself, is standing next to her mother and yelling along with everybody else. The boy running a hand through his hair, blown away by the warm reception he’s receiving.

Panel 4. The boy and the girl are sitting up together in bed with their legs under the covers. They are even older now – an old man and woman in the twilight years of their life together. There is a bit of knitted fabric and knitting needles on the bed draped over the girl’s legs. The boy is holding a book, but he’s not reading it. The boy and the girl are looking warmly at one another and chatting about pleasant memories.

PAGE SIX

Panel 1. The boy, back in the lunchroom and sitting at his table, is jarred out of his daydream as he is bumped into by an arm, elbow or hip (whatever) attached to a person we cannot completely see. It is another young girl though, so whatever we can see of her clothing should be somewhat feminine.

Panel 2. Another attractive teenage girl is sitting down at the lunch table the boy is sitting at. She has decided to sit a little ways down the table from him, and she accidentally bumped into him as she was getting situated with her own tray of food. She is smiling sheepishly at the boy in an apologetic manner. The boy is looking at the girl with a dumbfounded expression.

Panel 3. The boy is grinning openly at the girl as she has turned to her food and is taking a bite of her own sandwich. She seems oblivious to his newfound affection for her.

Panel 4. The boy has his hand on his chin again and his eyes have the same dreamy quality they had when he started daydreaming previously. He’s succumbed to the power of the glance, and he’s looking at the new girl as he starts to daydream about their life together.

Gentlemen, we can rebuild him

2010-02-10T10:28:00.000-08:00

We have the technology. We can make him better than he was before. Better, faster, stronger...

Any other fans of the 6 Million Dollar Man out there? I know I'm not the only one.

Anyway, I finished up my one word script today. Can't believe how quickly I got it done. I'll probably take a look at it once or twice before posting it on Friday, and that might give me a chance to polish it up a bit, which is something I haven't had a chance to do with my other entries thus far. The whole idea of the one word project I'm doing is primarily to write. I'm not usually worried about editing these things before I post them or anything like that. That's not to say that I don't read over them after they've been posted to figure out where I went wrong, and when I post them up on Digital Webbing, Penciljack and places like that I try to respond and learn from the criticism I receive. So it is a learning process, and the ultimate goal is to take all the valuable information I'm getting from these and apply that info to the next script in line.

One thing I will say about this script before Friday arrives is that I actually did a written layout of the panels before I moved into the scripting phase of it. What I mean is that I wrote down brief descriptions of panels that I'd like to see one after the other, and then I took those sparse panel descriptions and decided where the page break would be. It's something that I've done occasionally before, but I'd probably say that the majority of my writing (especially in regards to this project) is done without much planning ahead.

Is that one of the reasons I can't write on as consistent a basis as I'd like? I suppose it's a strong possibility. So what I've decided to do is try and layout my future one word scripts in the same manner as this one to see if it eases the process for me. It's a little more work, yeah, but if it reduces the difficulty I have during the scripting process it's definitely worth it, and it might be something I can apply to the larger projects I'm working on. One of the whole ideas behind this is to improve my productivity and effectiveness as a writer, so let's hope I'm on the right track. It's either that or become a cyborg like my boy Steve Austin.

Slogging along...

2010-02-09T09:26:00.000-08:00

...singing a song!

Ahem.

Yeah, so this week started off a little poorly. Had a hellacious time at the day job yesterday. It happens from time to time, but this one was so bad that I barely remembered or even had the time to visit oneword.com and acquire my word for the week. I did remember to do it eventually though, and no, the word isn't slog. Although that would be one heck of a word for the week. The word I did get has me pondering a little bit more than I usually like to on a script I need to finish in my spare time within a 5 day deadline. I have two ideas for stories, but I'm not sure which of the two I'm going to go with. So that's a bit of a pain, but I plan to make the decision and get started at some point today.

I'll probably also write up my next DWPFF entry tomorrow. There's actually been quite a bit of activity concerning the project over at the Digital Webbing boards lately. Most of it has been fairly positive, including the posting of a nearly-finished page from my own story in the "work journal" thread, but there's been a bit of negativity as well. I suppose it's to be expected with any project on as large a scale as this one is. There are 50+ creators to deal with, all with their own ideas and special set of circumstances. I do not envy Chris Stevens his workload, and I sympathize with him a great deal, but most of all I admire him for pressing on in the face of all the adversity.

I recently re-connected with an artist I had been working with on a project last year that got derailed. We've talked briefly about possibly picking it back up again. It would be months down the line, as we're both entrenched with other concerns at the moment, but it's always nice to have another project in the pipeline to think about. Keeps the days from getting dull. More tomorrow.

ONE WORD - WEEK 4 - SNAP

2010-02-05T07:50:00.000-08:00

Yes indeed, my word for week 4 of this exercise was "SNAP". This word gave me some trouble as I tried to figure out what to write about. I started thinking about things that could potentially snap, such as a neck, a temper, a towel, a football, etc. Once I had a fairly significant list of things to snap, I decided I didn't really want to write about any of them exclusively. So I decided to try and write about them all. My goal with this script was to put a reference to snapping of some sort in each and every panel. I managed to do that, but I'm not sure how well it all flows together. This is my shortest script, coming in at 4 pages. After 4 weeks of this, I'm averaging 5 pages per script, which was my goal from the beginning.

PAGE ONE

Panel 1. A football is being snapped into the hands of a quarterback by the center of a football team.

QUARTERBACK:
Hike!

Panel 2. Three guys are sitting around in a sparsely-furnished apartment. Each of the guys is in their very early twenties. Joe is tall and athletic white male with blond hair. Matt is a shorter white male, and is a little bit overweight. He has brown hair and a light beard. Rob is a black male somewhere in between Joe and Matt as far as size is concerned. Rob has thick glasses perched on his face. Joe is jumping up from the couch as he watches the quarterback who took the snap throw an interception on the large television screen. Matt and Rob are playing a card game on the table behind the couch. There are a few bowls of food on the table, including a large bowl of carrot sticks.

JOE:
Not an interception! God--I hate our quarterback! He’s such an idiot!

ROB:
That’s kind of a snap judgment, don’t you think?

Panel 3. Joe has turned to face Rob and Matt now, his expression one of annoyance. Rob and Matt are still intently playing their card game.

JOE:
No, Rob--I don’t think that’s a snap judgment. And neither would you, if you were watching the game. What the hell are you guys doing, anyway?

ROB:
Uh--we’re playing cards. Obviously.

MATT:
Yeah, you ever play Snap?

Panel 4. Joe is holding a clenched fist over his head, with his head hanging limply to the side, as if he is mock hanging himself. Rob and Matt are still playing their game, but Rob is smirking as he speaks.

JOE:
No. And I don’t want to play snap. I’d rather hang myself.

ROB:
Most likely resulting in a snapped neck, which would be apt.

PAGE TWO

Panel 1. Joe is snapping one of the carrot sticks from the bowl on the table in two.

JOE:
Yeah, very funny. And dude, what is up with these snacks? I mean--carrot sticks? What kind of football food is that?

SFX (CARROT STICK):
SNAP!

Panel 2. Rob is looking at Joe as if he’s just come to a startling realization. He’s also snapping his fingers to punctuate his statement. Joe is grousing, and Matt is amused by the whole situation.

ROB:
Hey, I’ve got an idea! If you don’t like it, why don’t you bring your own food next time, you bum?

SFX:
SNAP!

MATT:
Ha ha!

Panel 3. Joe is looking around the room, as if hoping to come across some other food item by chance. Rob and Matt are back to playing their game of Snap.

JOE:
Seriously, you don’t have anything else in here?

ROB:
I might have some rice krispies in a cabinet somewhere.

MATT:
Chock full of vitamins snap, crackle and pop.

Panel 4. Joe has plopped back down onto the couch with exasperation. Matt and Rob have finally stopped playing their card game and are instead mocking Joe openly now.

JOE:
I truly hate you guys.

MATT:
Oh, snap! What a comeback!

ROB:
Yeah. You’re in rare form today, Joe.

PAGE THREE

Panel 1. Joe is using the remote on the television, a sour look on his face. Rob is holding his phone, which is blasting out a ring tone. Matt is eyeing Rob with bemusement.

JOE:
Whatever. I’m changing the channel. This game sucks.

SFX (PHONE):
I’ve got the power!

MATT:
Dude, is that seriously your ring tone?

ROB:
What? It’s a classic.

Panel 2. Matt is leaning over the couch Joe is sitting on, watching and gesturing towards the screen as one professional wrestler performs a snap suplex maneuver on another wrestler.

MATT:
Ah--nice, Joe. You finally put on something good.

JOE:
I can’t believe you think wrestling is better than football. It’s not even real.

MATT:
C’mon, dude--I know it’s scripted, but they’re doing some seriously physical stuff. You can’t fake a snap suplex like that. It takes real athleticism.

Panel 3. Joe lightly swats Matt on the arm to get his attention.

JOE:
We still playing hockey tomorrow?

MATT:
Yeah, definitely. I really need to work on my shooting though. I’m pretty rank.

JOE:
You’ve got a pretty decent snapshot though.

Panel 4. Joe is cocking a thumb behind himself in the direction of Rob, who is still talking on the phone. Both Joe and Matt are amused now as they talk about Rob.

JOE:
This guy might not even go if his lady has her say.

MATT:
I know--she’s got him on a pretty short leash.

JOE:
Yeah! Snapping that whip!

PAGE FOUR

Panel 1. Joe and Matt are reacting with surprise as Rob takes a picture of the two of them using a camera with a very bright flash from his spot behind the couch.

SFX:
SNAP!

MATT:
Hey!

JOE:
What the--?

Panel 2. Rob is holding up the camera he took the picture with, mocking Joe and Matt. The camera has a strap that is around Rob’s neck. Joe has snapped, and is yelling into the air from his spot on the couch. Matt is looking at Joe as if he’s crazy.

ROB:
Just wanted to get some evidence of you two actually watching sweaty men grapple.

JOE:
That’s it!

Panel 3. Joe has come out from around the couch and is snatching the strap of Rob’s camera from around his neck. The strap around Rob’s neck is snapping as Joe tugs on it, while Rob protectively cradles his camera.

JOE:
Gimme that camera!

SFX:
SNAP!

ROB:
Dude! You broke the strap!

Panel 4. Joe is snapping Rob’s hindquarters with the broken camera strap. Rob is still protectively holding onto his camera like a newborn baby while he scampers away. Matt is observing the entire scene, with his hand pressed to his forehead in amazement.

JOE:
So I’ll buy you a new one, ya big baby. Quit your crying.

SFX:
SNAP!

ROB:
Agh! Quit it!

MATT:
And these are my friends...

Evolving right before our very eyes!

2010-02-03T11:16:00.000-08:00

So the Zuda project I've been working on since the beginning of the year has been tabled for now. The primary reason being that I didn't like the way it was progressing from an art standpoint. The original artist, Dario Carrasco, had a very specific look for the characters involved, and both Dario and I felt we were holding the artist we'd hired for the pitch to an unfair standard. These things tend to happen from time to time, especially when you're doing work that relies on collaboration to get anything done. The artist and I are discussing options for an alternate property to bring to Zuda, so there's still a possibility I'll be able to get something ready in time for the middle months of the competition. Dario and I are discussing an alternate path for the project we had slated for Zuda now too, so things are still shuffling along at a reasonable pace.

My "one word" script is going remarkably well this week. I'm trying a bit of an experiment with it this time around, but I'll talk about that more when I post it up on Friday. I actually think I'll finish it well before the others I've done these first three weeks. That will leave me additional time to write some other things I've been meaning to get to. That's always a good thing.

In other exciting news--I've doubled my followers! So I'd just like to take a second to thank Jason Copland and PJ Magalhaes for occasionally glancing at the blog. Jason is a tremendous artist whose most recent claim to fame is doing work for Image Comics' Perhapanauts series. He's also providing art for one of the stories in the "DWPFF" project I'm always talking about. He updates his blog even more than I update mine, so be sure to check that out. As for PJ, I first met him when I was looking for an inker for one of my projects. PJ is a good guy, and a fine artist in his own right. Thanks again, guys!

The DWPFF Journey - Part 5

2010-02-02T09:42:00.000-08:00

So in the last installment, we talked about my "Rikki Tikki Tavi" pitch being accepted into the project and how thrilled I was that it had made the cut. I started sending the editor, Chris Stevens, ideas for how to expand on the pitch and give the story more of a "future spin", as I was still concerned that my pitch was sorely lacking in future elements. Part of that growing concern was brought to the forefront when I visited the Digital Webbing message boards and read through the other ideas being pitched for the book. Some of them were absolutely stellar story ideas with interesting twists that I genuinely felt put mine to shame. As I trudged back to my own little story, I realized I needed to make some major changes if it was going to carry my weight.

I was looking for some guidance, and so I brought up some of my concerns to Chris. Unfortunately, I'd failed to account for the fact that Chris was in the midst of managing the creative vision of numerous other creators as well. He didn't have the time to walk me through my story step-by-step. He could review a finished story, and tell me what worked and what didn't so I could revise it if needed, but it would be impossible for him to tell me what worked and what didn't before I'd even started scripting.

But starting the story was what was concerning me so much. I didn't want to write a story when I wasn't sure if the ideas I had in mind were any good or not. When I thought about it, and compared it to the other ideas that were out there, a story about a kid getting sick and a robot fixing him up just seemed kind of small and inconsequential. These reservations continued to grow in my mind to such a degree that I actually emailed Chris directly and told him I thought it'd be a good idea if I pulled my story from the book. To his credit, Chris didn't beat me about the brows over it. He told me what sold him on the story was the sick little kid, and that he thought it could be good, but if I wasn't into it 100% he couldn't make me be. I told him that I just wasn't sure a story about a sick little kid would work as a "future tale" when all I could think of to give it a futuristic slant was to set it in some kind of hi-tech hospital. That's when Chris took me by the digital lapels and told me to stop being an idiot. I'd never know if the story would be any good until I at least attempted to write it, and he was absolutely right. I was putting the cart before the horse and psyching myself out before I'd even began.

A couple days later Chris emailed me again to let me know he'd divided up some of the editorial work to ease his load. My story had been assigned to a guy named James Powell, the primary reason being that Chris confessed that he was more of an instinctual editor than anything else. He could tell you if something worked or it didn't once it was out there, but that was it. James had a bit more of a hands-on approach, and that was exactly what I needed. While I felt a little strange emailing James concerning everything I'd talked about with Chris, I wanted to get things rolling as quickly as possible so we could hit the ground running.

Emailing James was like a breath of fresh air. First of all, it was nice to be able to talk about everything I'd been thinking about from the very start of the process. And James' response was really refreshing too. He immediately gave me some key points to focus on, including the fact that a small, but still major, part of the original "Rikki Tikki Tavi" was that the family had saved the mongoose from death. That was one of the primary reasons the mongoose was so willing to fight tooth-and-nail for the family. He also mentioned the fact that the mongoose had been a sentient being in the original story, and one of the biggest decisions I had to make as a writer was in deciding whether or not my own mongoose would be. James also keyed on trying to add a hint of desperation to the ingredients of the story. If we could establish that the family had tried pretty much everything and that they were down to their last resort, we could give the story even more emotional volume.

Working with James' comments gave me some newfound confidence in the project, and I developed another pitch a couple of days after we traded emails. Here's what I came up with, raw and uncut...

In the future, only the rich are cared for because only the rich can afford it. At one point a cheap/easy to reproduce nanobot was developed that could have changed all that, but it didn't work. So now the poor suffer without proper care. Maybe the developer of the nanobot is the father of the kid that gets sick, and he turned it into the boy's pet. Then, when the kid gets sick, the nanobot is used as a last resort (or maybe steps up to the plate itself) and over the course of the story we discover the nanobot evolved to grow to love the family/boy. All the nanobot needed was to be taught to love to be able to do its job properly. The boy is saved, and now the poor can be taken care of by the nanobots.

Looking back at this pitch, I don't think it's terrible, but it definitely has problems. The first problem is that I think I pulled away from the "family aspect" of it and incorporated society as a whole instead. The original story is all about the love that a pet has for the family that saved it, and this pitch is trying to expand too far beyond those boundaries. Still, I liked the idea of an advanced machine evolving the ability to love. I felt like there was a correlation to the original in that Rikki Tikki Tavi was a wild animal that was tempered somewhat by the gratitude and love he felt for the family that cared for him. So that part, at least, worked, and I got more solid feedback from James.

He mentioned that I'd really have to think about the journey the nanobot was going to undertake within the boy. How would I depict that effectively? How would the family members on the outside be able to monitor what was going on within? James really felt that the story hinged on how I managed to pull that off, and I was in total agreement. He also expanded on the idea of the family saving the nanobot. He suggested giving the nanobot more personality by showing emotions such as sadness regarding its inability to function correctly, gratitude regarding it being saved from the incinerator, and eventually love for the boy as it fought to save him. The emails that James sent with these suggestions were the building blocks for the first draft of my "Rikki Tikki Tavi" script. Next time we'll talk about how I used the advice that James gave me to write my first script, and how I just totally and completely missed the mark.

ONE WORD - WEEK 3 - YOGA

2010-01-29T10:04:00.000-08:00

Yeah, so my word for week 3 was yoga. Not the easiest word in the world to write about, but I did have a slightly larger frame of reference for this one because my sister practices yoga techniques, and she took me to one of her classes. It is not easy, and I didn't think it would be going in, but I thought it might be funny to write about a first-timer that thought it'd be cake. I also thought it might be nice to do a script with a bit of humor after my first couple attempts. I've also attached a couple of images with this post (you'll find them at the bottom), primarily because there are a couple of terms in here that would be a mystery to somebody that doesn't do yoga (like me!).

PAGE ONE

Panel 1. A married couple (Jim and Inga) in their mid-twenties are lying in bed together. Inga is reading a paperback book, and Jim is flipping through a sports magazine.

Panel 2. Jim has dropped the magazine from in front of his face and is reacting with surprise and mild disgust as he looks in the direction of Inga’s feet. Inga is peering up from her book with slight interest.

JIM:
Ugh! What the hell is that?

INGA:
Mmmm?

Panel 3. Both of Inga’s feet have socks on that are spreading her toes beyond the reaches of normalcy. The socks are shaped to enclose each toe in fabric, and there is an insert of fabric between each toe spreading Inga’s toes.

INGA:
Those are just my yoga toe socks. They feel a little weird, but they really help.

Panel 4. Jim is looking disgustedly at Inga’s feet. Inga is swatting him with her book.

JIM:
It looks absolutely horrifying.

INGA:
Oh, shut up. Like your feet are roses in bloom.

PAGE TWO

Panel 1. Inga has her book in her lap and is looking at Jim thoughtfully now. Jim is trying to focus on his magazine, but his eyes are peering up and over in the direction of Inga’s feet.

INGA:
You should come with me.

JIM:
To what--yoga? I don’t think so.

Panel 2. Inga is grabbing Jim’s arm and leaning towards him. Jim is making a show of trying to pull away from her grasp.

INGA:
Why not? It’d be fun! You’re always saying how you want to get more exercise.

JIM:
Yeah, but I’m talking about playing hoops or running or something like that. Not yoga. All you do is sit around and stretch. That’s not exercise.

Panel 3. Inga has turned away from Jim and has folded her arms across her chest. She’s pouting a bit. Jim is interested now that the challenge has been presented.

INGA:
You’re such an ass. It’s not just stretching, okay? There’s more to it than that. I’m honestly not even sure you could do it.

JIM:
Hold on now--are you serious? It’s just yoga. It’s not like mountain climbing or something. I’m pretty sure I can handle it.

Panel 4. Inga is looking back at Jim with a sly expression on her face. Jim is pointing a finger at her with a taunting expression on his face.

INGA:
Uh huh. Sounds like you’re scared to me.

JIM:
Oh, for crying out--

JIM:
Okay, you know what? I’m going to go. I’m going to go do some of your hardcore yoga. How do you like them apples?

Panel 5. Inga has a satisfied expression on her face as she continues reading her book. Jim has a smug expression on his face as he continues to read his magazine.

INGA:
I like them just fine.

JIM:
You should. They’re pretty tasty apples.

INGA:
They are.

JIM:
I know.

PAGE THREE

Panel 1. Jim and Inga are standing in the yoga studio. It’s basically a spacious room with wood floors, shelves to hold shoes and other items of clothing, and large windows to let in plenty of light. There is also a shelf with blankets, and a pyramid of wooden blocks (each about half the size of a loaf of bread) somewhere in the room. The room is also filled with students in various stages of preparedness for class. There are only eight to ten people in the class, and all are female except for Jim. Some are unrolling their mats, other are stretching near their mats, etc. Jim and Inga have their mats unrolled, and are standing beside them. They’re near the back of the class. Jim is standing with a reluctant posture, his shoulders partially slumped.

JIM:
I don’t want to do this. Can I go home?

INGA:
What? No, Jim. You said you’d give it a try.

Panel 2. Jim is gesturing at the other students in the room. Inga is rolling her eyes at him.

JIM:
Yeah, but there’s nothing but chicks in here. And you’ve got a chick instructor. And I’m pretty sure I saw somebody I know walk by a minute ago and take a picture with their phone. If this goes out on the internet I’ll never live it down.

INGA:
Oh, shut up.

Panel 3. The yoga instructor, Petal, has approached Jim and Inga. She is a slightly older woman with a wiry frame. She is wearing an extremely tight leotard and has her hair tied up in an extremely tight bun. Her hands are folded in front of her, and she has bare feet. Inga has her hand on Jim’s shoulder and is smiling at the instructor.

PETAL:
Hello. Inga, is this a friend of yours?

INGA:
This is my husband Jim, Petal. He’s a first-timer.

Panel 4. Petal and Jim are shaking hands. Jim is shrugging his shoulders slightly, and looking confidently, almost arrogantly, around. Petal seems bemused by him.

PETAL:
It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jim. I always like to greet any new students before we begin. This is a fairly intensive class. Have you ever done yoga before?

JIM:
Nope. Can’t say that I have. I’m not too worried though. I play a lot of sports, so I’m in pretty good shape.

Panel 5. Petal is slightly offended by Jim’s posturing, but Jim seems oblivious to it. He’s cocking an index finger and thumb at Petal as if it were a gun as he acknowledges her advice.

PETAL:
Mmm. I see. Well--if there’s anything you’re not comfortable doing, please feel free to sit in the lotus position on your mat. There’s no need to strain yourself.

JIM:
Sure thing.

Panel 6. Jim is whispering at Inga as Petal walks away. Inga is annoyed again.

JIM:
Petal?

INGA:
Oh, shut up.

PAGE FOUR

Panel 1. Inga is handing Jim a pair of large blankets. Jim is accepting them reluctantly.

INGA:
Okay, so here’s your blankets.

JIM:
Uh… okay.

Panel 2. Inga is now handing Jim one of the blocks of wood from the pyramid. Jim seems genuinely baffled by her offering.

INGA:
And here’s the block of wood.

JIM:
What the hell? Do they break one of your limbs if you mess up or something?

INGA:
Just take it and pay attention. Class is about to start.

Panel 3. Petal is standing in front of the class in the opening form of the sun salutation. She is standing upright with her feet together and her hands placed in front of her diaphragm with her palms pressed together as if she was praying. Jim, Inga and the other students are doing it as well, and Jim is groaning. Inga is hissing at him.

PETAL:
Let us start with a sun salutation. Remember to breathe, and think of the sun and her warm and loving embrace.

JIM:
Oh, god.

INGA:
Shhhhhh.

Panel 2. Petal and the other students are doing the downward facing dog position, the seventh image in the sun salutation.

CAPTION:
Twenty minutes later.

PETAL:
Descend into downward facing dog. You can feel the vitality and strength entering your body as your abdominal muscles stretch. Breathe and hold.

Panel 3. Petal and her students are doing the eighth image of the sun salutation now.

CAPTION:
Another twenty minutes later.

PETAL:
Raise your hips as high as you can, remembering to keep your abdomen tight and firm. Continue to breathe, and hold this position.

Panel 4. Petal and her students are in the wheel pose. It’s a lot like the pose in panel 3, with their hands and feet on the floor, with their limbs at straight as possible, and their waist and hips as high as possible. Only now they’re bent over backwards.

CAPTION:
Twenty minutes after that.

PETAL:
The wheel pose strengthens us by mimicking man’s first, greatest invention. You should be able to feel your abdomen and pelvis stretching as you breathe and hold. But try not to roll away.

Panel 5. Petal is now in firefly pose. Petal is balancing on her hands, holding her entire body up with her arms. Her arms are bent, as if she is doing a push-up, but instead of having her legs stretched out, she is bent at the waist and her legs are draped over her arms.

CAPTION:
And yet another twenty minutes later.

PETAL:
This will be our final form of the day. This is the firefly pose. Imagine you are a firefly, nestled between the fronds of a giant fern. Enjoy the leaves brushing gently against you as you hold this position.

PAGE FIVE

Panel 1. Inga is sitting in the lotus position on her mat, watching Jim as he performs the variation of the crane pose. Jim is in the form, but he’s sweating prolifically, and trembling slightly. Some of the students are the couple are doing the traditional crane position. Some of them are doing the variation, and some are just sitting in the lotus position on their mat like Inga.

INGA:
I’m so proud of you, honey. Even I can’t do that one. Are you okay like that?

JIM:
You kidding? If anything, this is too easy. I’m barely working up a sweat.

Panel 2. Inga has gotten up from her mat, and is looking down at Jim with an annoyed expression. The other students that were in the crane pose are getting out of theirs now. Some are already looking back in the direction of the argument.

INGA:
Ugh! You’re unbelievable!

JIM:
What can I say? Some of us are just athletically inclined.

Panel 3. Inga is storming out of the studio. Jim is calling after her, but the position he’s in makes it impossible for him to look anywhere but at the ground.

JIM:
I could hold this pose all day! In fact--I think I will!

INGA:
Jerk!

Panel 4. Petal is standing in front of Jim, looking down at him with a thin smile. All the other students are watching Jim and Petal openly as they speak to one another.

PETAL:
I must say, Jim--that is an extraordinary display for a beginner. I have never seen a newcomer hold the crane pose for quite so long.

JIM:
Well--thanks, Petal. I have to admit, this yoga stuff is tougher than I thought.

Panel 5. Petal has crouched down so that her head is closer to Jim’s. She’s balancing on her feet, with her arms wrapped around her knees. She’s smiling openly now. Jim is still looking at the ground, but he’s visibly distressed and ashamed.

PETAL:
Mmm, yes. You’re stuck, aren’t you?

JIM:
Yes. Yes, I am.

The DWPFF Journey - Part 4

2010-01-28T10:08:00.001-08:00

Writing this wasn't as daunting and didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would. Lucky me!

All right, so the last time we discussed this project, I posted up my initial pitch to Chris Stevens with a general idea of where I wanted the story to go. I think we can all agree that the pitch I posted was pretty atrocious, yeah? After Chris and I dismissed that one, we talked about the original story a little bit, and he asked me to break it down into a sentence or two describing what it meant to me. Once I recognized that, to me, the story was about using love as the driving force to face down your fears no matter how overwhelming they might seem--well, I thought I might be onto something.

Chris suggested trying to write a more humanistic piece that had a future slant, but retained the familiar tones of the original. So I looked at the original story, and broke that down into easily digestible chunks.

1. Family moves into house with a garden.
2. Family saves mongoose from drowning during a storm.
3. Snakes live in the garden.
4. Snakes want family gone by any means necessary.
5. Mongoose defends family that saved his life.

My first idea had been to have humans settling on an alien planet that was already occupied, but although that was technically in line with the original story, it wasn’t something heartfelt that people could relate to. So I thought about it a little bit more, and what immediately came to mind was my son. I’m a father. A relatively new father, actually, as my son is around two and a half years old. There’s nothing in the world that means more to me than my son, and I’m constantly worried (not to the point of paranoia or anything, but worried nonetheless) that something might happen to him. And I think there are a lot of people out there that can relate to that, and I know whenever I talk about my son I’m speaking from the heart. That’s the definition of heartfelt, I'd say.

So I gave rise to my worrisome nature and let it run wild for a minute or two. And it started to click from there. What if the house the family moved into was their son instead? Not to say that the family moves into their son’s body (because, uh… weird), but the son could easily be used instead of the house as the place where the snakes dwell. Of course, literally having snakes living inside a kid is another weird idea that wouldn’t exactly fly, so my next task was to consider what type of threat could live within a child. What type of threat could be as sleek and effective a killer as a poisonous cobra? I had an idea, and so I sent the following to Chris…

What about a child fighting some sort of sickness? Maybe the sickness could be the snakes, and Rikki could be some kind of nanobot created to combat that? It could be explored through the child's eyes/imagination, and then at the end revealed that he's in a futuristic hospital.

Now, I didn’t exactly love this concept, but I liked it well enough to send it off to Chris. And, wonder of wonders, he liked it too! He wanted more meat on the bones of my story, of course, and I didn’t have much to offer as I’d just thought of it. But what I did have, I sent to him. Here’s how I originally expanded on the idea…

Ok, so let's say that the boy is suffering from two fatal diseases. While the boy is under, he journeys with the nanobot, helping it to identify the diseases by dreaming about the memories he has of when the diseases first manifested while he was with his family. With the diseases exposed, the nanobot can isolate and destroy them. When the nanobot kills the last traces of the diseases, the boy awakens in the hospital with his family and the "Rikki Tikki Tavi" book by his bedside.

Looking back on that description of the story now, I think I can see immediately what’s wrong with it. First of all, it’d be hellacious to write. Breaking it down would be nearly impossible, especially considering the fact that there’s not too much in the text above that parallels the original story. Secondly, if it’s difficult to write, you know it’d be twice as hard for an artist to convert into workable pages. And finally, there was a pretty specific limit on the number of pages that would be dedicated to this story. Chris was looking for an eight to twelve-page story. Not a twenty-plus monstrosity.

I didn’t realize any of this at the time, of course. I thought the story was sound and would work wonderfully. And when Chris came back with the opinion that we weren’t quite there yet, but that it was good enough to go forward with, and that I was in the book… well, to say I was ecstatic would be an understatement.

Of course, I had no idea what I was getting into. And we’ll talk about what that means, and definitely get into the point where I almost quit altogether (sorry we didn’t have room for it this time) in the next installment. Until then…

Mutterings from my cave

2010-01-28T08:50:00.001-08:00

So I'm still on track to post my third One Word script on Friday. That's good news. The script is going a little bit better than the first two, although the word was still a major pain in the butt. Hopefully one of these days I'll get a word from that blasted website that agrees with me.

I now have two, count 'em, two followers of this blog! Woo hoo! Heh heh. Seriously, it's nice to know that maybe somebody out there is reading this tripe. So I give a hearty thanks to Joe Eisma for checking out the blog every now and then. Joe is tremendous artist with a blog of his own where he posts a gaggle of artwork. You can check that out HERE if you're so inclined. I know Joe would appreciate it, and I imagine anybody who checks his stuff out would too, as it's stellar.

I'm going to try and have a double-whammy of a post either today or tomorrow. What that means is that if I can find the time to do it, I'll be posting part 4 of my DWPFF Journey to go along with this post today, or I'll be posting it tomorrow along with the One Word script. The One Word posts are usually pretty lengthy, so I don't know if I want to have two massive posts in one day. I'll probably try to squeeze in the DWPFF Journey today, but yeah, we'll see how it goes.

I have a few other pots and pans simmering on the stove of my brain right now. There's a couple ideas I'd like to try and get put together at some point this year. I'm not sure how realistic my goals are at this point, but I'm still full of optimism, and I've been approaching my writing much more like a job lately, which I think is essential if I want to get anything done. Writer's write, and all that jazz. So... back to work!

Zuda legit to quit

2010-01-25T10:11:00.000-08:00

The Zuda project is moving right along. Received layouts for the first two pages from the artist, and they looked pretty good. I re-wrote the script once or twice to give the artist a little more breathing room. The format Zuda uses makes the pages about half the size of a full comic page, so I wanted to give the artist as much room as possible. Once he's finished the layouts, I'll post them up here for all to see with some character designs and things like that. I'd like to do another Zuda project if I can, but I think the best idea is to see how smoothly this one goes first.

I've been posting my "One Word" scripts up at Digital Webbing along with posting them here on the blog. My "bamboo" script got a couple of crits, which was nice, but the "pour" script hasn't as of yet. I'll be posting around 52 of these shorts, so I don't exactly expect all of them to be winners or to garner too much commentary. But it is nice to have somebody comment, whether positively or negatively, on your work. It means it's being read and having some kind of impact. I accessed oneword.com today and got my third word. It's another word that is going to be a pain in the butt to write about, but I do have a tentative idea in mind already, so at least there's that.

I'll have another DWPFF post up at some point later in the week, but there's been a lot of recent developments regarding my story that's making this journey much longer than I thought it would be when I initially undertook it. I'm still feeling optimistic about the project and my part in it, but I have to admit that it can be tough to maintain that optimism at times. But one thing I do know right now is that regardless of my optimism, writers have to write. I've been reading opinions from other, more successful, writers lately and the common theme that runs through their thoughts is that writers write. If you're not writing, you can be certain that there's somebody out there that is, and they'll be taking whatever work you'd like to do out from under you. So this year I'll be writing like gangbusters, and hoping people like what I put down on paper/screen/etc. And you can bank on that.

ONE WORD - WEEK 2 - POUR

2010-01-22T12:38:00.000-08:00

So I haven't posted as much as I'd usually like to this week, but I did manage to finish my second "One Word" script. The word for this week was "pour". No, no... not "pore" or "poor", but "pour". Don't you just love the English language?

So yeah, I was definitely intimidated a bit by this installment, much like I was with "bamboo" back in week one, because I had absolutely no idea what I was going to write about. And "pour" isn't exactly a word you can research as readily as "bamboo", so technically it was worse. The only thing I could think of, at first, was rainfall. So this script takes place in a diner during a rainstorm. A downpour, if you will. But as I was thinking about the script, I started remembering something I'd heard about how cramming too much information into one brain can cause you to lose memories or other information you've had rattling around in there for years. I don't know if there's any truth to it or not, but it sounded pretty cool at the time, and I equated it to pouring (there's that word!) a thick liquid into a glass with a much thinner liquid inside. All that namby pamby liquid would flow right out, wouldn't it? Anyway, that was my mindset, at least, and once I had that imagery in my head the rest came pretty easily. So here's my second One Word script - The Pouring Effect.

PAGE ONE

Panel 1. A young woman named Jessie is sitting in a booth next to the window in a diner. It is nighttime in the city, it’s raining, and so there aren’t many patrons in the diner. There is some basic walking traffic outside on the sidewalk, but not much. The table has the usual accessories on it, like a napkin dispenser, ketchup, mustard and sugar packets in some sort of container, etc. Jessie has a cup of steaming coffee sitting on the table in front of her. Her hands are wrapped around it in an effort to keep warm. Her hair and her coat are both damp from the rain. She’s hunched over slightly, as if trying to draw heat from the cup into her body. Her facial expression is anxious, and she’s looking up from the table. She’s waiting for somebody.

Panel 2. A waitress has arrived at the table and is speaking to Jessie without really looking at her. Jessie is looking up, slightly startled.

WAITRESS:
Can I get you anything else?

JESSIE:
Oh--oh, no. No thank you. The coffee is fine for now.

Panel 3. The waitress is gone, and Jessie is looking up at the door of the diner as it opens and a young man named Curtis enters. There is a bell over the door, and it is tinkling as Curtis enters. Curtis is absolutely drenched. His hair is matted to his head, and he’s not wearing a coat of any kind. He is very thin, and looks rather pathetic coming into the diner.

Panel 4. The cook is gesturing at Curtis with a large spatula and shouting at him animatedly. Curtis is looking dazedly at the cook as water drips from him onto the floor.

COOK:
Hey--what’re you crazy!? You’re dripping water all over the place! Get the hell out of here!

Panel 5. Jessie has arrived and has put her hands on Curtis’ arms in a protective fashion. She’s is looking apologetically at the cook. Curtis is looking at Jessie now with the same dazed expression.

JESSIE:
It’s ok, sir. He’s with me.

Panel 6. The cook is eyeing Jessie and Curtis with displeasure as Jessie hustles Curtis to her table. She is calling over her shoulder to the cook, and is pushing Curtis along in front of her with her hands on his arms. Curtis is shuffling on agreeably enough, but isn’t making any real effort of his own.

JESSIE:
Sorry for the mess!

COOK:
Yeah, yeah.

COOK:
Hey, Maurice! Get your butt out here and mop this water up before somebody slips and falls, huh?

PAGE TWO

Panel 1. Jessie pushes Curtis into the seat across the booth from where she was sitting. Curtis plops down lifelessly. Jessie is looking rather annoyed with Curtis now.

JESSIE:
Jesus, Curtis--you’re soaked! You trying to catch pneumonia or something?

Panel 2. Jessie is sitting across from Curtis now, and is trying to get his attention by waving a hand in front of his face. Curtis is still looking dazed, and although he’s looking in Jessie’s direction, it’s as though he’s looking through her.

JESSIE:
Hello? Earth to Curtis. Are you hearing me?

Panel 3. Jessie is leaning forward, and clapping her hands forcibly in front of Curtis’ face. Curtis is jerking back slightly, and his eyes have cleared somewhat.

JESSIE:
Curtis!

CURTIS:
Wha--?

Panel 4. Curtis is rubbing the back of his head, with his head partially bowed down towards the table. He’s squinting his eyes as though he has a major headache. Jessie is holding her coffee cup now, and still seems pretty annoyed with Curtis.

CURTIS:
Aw, man. Ugh--dude, my head is killing me.

JESSIE:
Curtis, what is your deal? You call me on the phone all frantic and talking about how you need to see me--even though it’s the middle of the freaking night and raining by the way--thanks for that. And when you get here you act like this? Not cool.

Panel 5. Curtis is looking up at Jessie apologetically as she sips her coffee. He is still holding the back of his head, and has a slightly pained expression on his face.

CURTIS:
Jessie--yeah, hey. I’m so sorry. I just really, really needed to talk to you about something, and--um, do you think I could get a cup of coffee or something? That looks so good and I could really use it about now, but I guess I forgot my wallet at home.

PAGE THREE

Panel 1. Jessie has turned around in her seat and has her arm raised, waving her hand in the air to draw the attention of the waitress patrolling the diner. Jessie looks slightly incredulous at the nerve of Curtis.

JESSIE:
Sure, hey--why not, right? I’ll buy you some coffee and you can tell me why we’re meeting here at two in the morning on a weeknight.

Panel 2. Jessie has turned back around to face Curtis in the booth. Curtis is looking down at the table again, his eyes squeezed shut, as if he’s willing the pain to recede.

JESSIE:
Because you’ve been seriously whacked lately, Curtis. I mean--I love you, and I think you know that, but I haven’t seen you for nearly two weeks. You don’t answer your cell, and your roommate said you haven’t been at your apartment either.

CURTIS:
I know, Jessie, I know. I just can’t focus right now. I can’t…

Panel 3. The waitress has arrived at the booth, and she has her pen and pad ready. The waitress is looking out the window at the rain. Jessie is looking up at her, and Curtis is looking up from the table at Jessie with realization dawning on his face.

WAITRESS:
Really coming down out there, huh?

JESSIE:
Um, yeah--it’s really pouring. Could we get another cup of coffee, please? Black?

CURTIS:
It’s pouring?

Panel 4. The waitress is walking away, but Curtis is frantically yelling after her from his seat in the booth.

WAITRESS:
Be right back.

CURTIS:
No, wait!

Panel 5. The waitress has turned to face Curtis, but she isn’t making any move to approach him. She seems somewhat taken aback by his frenzied outburst and the disheveled look of him.

CURTIS:
Could we get a, uh--a small glass of water! And a tall glass of milk!

WAITRESS:
Sure. Sure, I’ll bring it right out.

PAGE FOUR

Panel 1. Jessie is looking at Curtis with a partially annoyed and baffled expression. Curtis is alert and frenetic now, with no hint of the dazed expression lingering on his face. He’s pulling a napkin from the dispenser on the table.

JESSIE:
Are you out of your mind? You’re going to get us kicked out of here. They’re already ticked about the mess you made when you came in.

CURTIS:
It doesn’t matter. Jessie, look--you have to listen to me. Something bad is gonna happen. Something really bad.

Panel 2. The waitress is back with the coffee, small water and large milk. Jessie isn’t looking at the waitress now, she’s looking only at Curtis, and she has a concerned expression on her face. The waitress is eyeing Curtis suspiciously as well. Curtis is ripping small pieces off of the napkin and dropping them on the table.

WAITRESS:
Um, here’s your drinks. And I brought the check too--so whenever you’re ready.

Panel 3. The waitress is leaving, and Jessie is whispering furiously at Curtis again. Curtis has placed his coffee cup between the small pieces of napkin he’s ripped apart.

JESSIE:
Curtis, you’re starting to scare me. What are you talking about?

CURTIS:
Okay, look--I know this is gonna sound crazy, but just imagine that the coffee cup is Earth, right? And all these little bits of napkin right here are spaceships.

Panel 4. Jessie has leaned back in her seat, and is eyeing Curtis as though he’s crazy. Curtis is looking at Jessie with an expression that could certainly be read as crazed, and is grabbing the glass of water and the glass of milk now.

JESSIE:
Oh, god--you’re kidding. Please tell me you’re kidding.

CURTIS:
This is serious, Jessie. Just listen to me, all right? They’re around us. They’re all around us, and they’re trying to take over. If you’re not careful, they’re going to get you too.

Panel 5. Jessie is leaning forward a little more now, and is offering one of her hands to Curtis, concern once more stamped on her features. Curtis is holding the two glasses of liquid up for Jessie to see.

JESSIE:
Curtis, I’m listening to you. I hear you, okay--but you need to listen to me now. No one is coming to get you. They’re really not. You’re just confused, baby.

CURTIS:
No, no--they’re not coming for me. They’ve already got their hooks in me. It’s everybody else that has to worry now. It’s like these glasses, you know? One is us, and one is them.

PAGE FIVE

Panel 1. Curtis is pouring the glass of milk into the glass of water. The water glass is overflowing, and clear liquid is spilling out onto Curtis’ hand as he pours the milk. As the milk is poured in, it flows down and blooms on the bottom of the glass. Curtis is watching it happen with a mesmerized expression.

CURTIS:
They got me all hooked up, and they’re pouring the information in. I keep trying to stop it, but I can only keep them out for so long. And every time they do it it’s like more of me washes away. It gets harder and harder to remember.

Panel 2. The cook has come out from behind the counter, and is approaching the table where Curtis and Jessie are sitting. He’s upset at the mess Curtis is making. Jessie is watching Curtis with a frightened expression.

COOK:
All right, that’s it! I want both of you out of here!

Panel 3. Curtis has gotten out of his seat and is facing the cook. He’s holding the small glass with the milky water out for the cook to see. More of it slops onto the ground as Curtis gestures. The cook has stopped in his tracks and is looking at Curtis with caution.

CURTIS:
Can’t you see!? They’re replacing what I am with what they are!

COOK:
Okay, I ain’t dealing with this crap. I’m calling the cops!

Panel 4. Jessie is up from her seat and has her hand on Curtis’ shoulder. She’s looking at Curtis, but Curtis is looking down at something.

JESSIE:
Let’s just get out of here, okay? We can talk more--but someplace else.

CURTIS:
You don’t get it. There’s nowhere we can go. There’s no place where we can be safe.

Panel 5. Curtis has turned around to face Jessie, and he is holding a small caliber pistol in the hand that is not holding the small glass of milky water. His shirt is raised up slightly, as the gun was tucked into the waistband of his pants. He is looking at Jessie with true sorrow. Jessie is incredulous.

CURTIS:
I’m so sorry, Jessie.

JESSIE:
Curtis?

PAGE SIX

Panel 1. Curtis is aiming the gun at Jessie. His eyes are completely mad now. Jessie is horrified, and her hands are up in a defensive posture, but she has no chance to get out of the way. The cook is on the phone in the background, and his jaw has dropped in shock. The waitress has dropped her tray, and the items on it are tumbling to the floor.

CURTIS:
But this is the only way.

The DWPFF Journey - Part 3

2010-01-19T10:22:00.000-08:00

So last time I revealed that the story I was adapting for the "fairy tales in the future" project was Rudyard Kipling's "Rikki Tikki Tavi". This time I wanted to talk a little bit about the pitches I made to Chris Stevens, editor extraordinaire, and discuss the hellacious time I had trying to put together a script. However, I didn't quite realize how long a process all that actually was, so I'll be breaking things down even more. First up on the docket is discussing my first pitch to Chris. This happened directly after Chris mentioned adapting a story from Rudyard Kipling's "Jungle Books". I immediately keyed on Rikki Tikki Tavi and, still having aliens on the brain, sent him this...

Humans colonize an alien planet. They strive to make a home there, and vow not to make the same mistakes they made with Earth. The youngest son of the leader of the colony makes an imaginary friend he calls "Rikki". An alien lifeform attacks, killing one of the colonists. The boy calls the alien "Karait", and tells his father and mother that Rikki told him. Karait ends up dead, and the colonists breathe a sigh of relief. But larger alien creatures the boy identifies as Nag and
Nagaina begin attacking, causing massive loss of life night after night. Though the colonists want to leave, the leader of the colony tells them to be brave. Nag attacks the leader directly, but the boy kills Nag using his "imaginary friend" with only the boy's family as witnesses. The leader doesn't want the colonists to know what his son is capable of. Instead of disposing of it, the superstitious colonists place the body of Nag outside the colony to ward off Nagaina, without the leader of the colony knowing, and Nagaina vows vengeance. The leader's son tells him that Nag and Nagaina are the parents of millions more creatures of which Karait was only the first offspring, and the leader, in desperation, makes a plan with his son to end the threat. The leader goes out to confront Nagaina in a small ship called "the Darzee" that he's rigged to look like it's malfunctioning so that his son can enter the lair of Nagaina and destroy her "nest". Eventually Nagaina realizes the deception and Rikki finally materializes to the entire colony, killing Nagaina and explaining that his people were the original inhabitants of the planet killed by Nag and Nagaina. By bonding with the boy, Rikki was able to get justice for his people, and release their souls before they could be used to birth Nag and Nagaina's children.

To me this was a case of trying to be way too complicated and clever. The stories in this anthology are primarily supposed to be anywhere from 8-12 pages in length. While anything is possible, it would certainly be a challenge to cut the pitch above to 12 pages. Chris called me on this immediately, suggesting I make the effort to be tighter and cleaner. Another thing that bothered Chris was the fact that the story didn't appear to come from the heart, and had a darker tone to it. A lot of the writers pitching ideas came up with darker-themed stories and Chris had been getting pretty tired of it. To my own mind, I think the problem with telling stories that take place in the future is that you (as a writer) almost always tend to think of the future as this extremely bleak or idyllic place. So there are tendencies to lean in one direction or the other. Chris made me think about that quite a bit.

Another thing that Chris mentioned was being overwhelmed with the countless pitches he'd received of stories set in outerspace. His hope for Rikki Tikki Tavi was a story that captured a sense of the magic in the everyday. This provided me with more fuel for thought, although I admit I was somewhat daunted when I heard back from Chris. The reason being that Rikki Tikki Tavi was probably considered one of Kipling's darkest tales. The story of two cobras fighting to the death against a mongoose isn't exactly the most lighthearted fair. But instead of quietly agonizing over this problem, I decided to bring it to my editor. Chris once again presented me with a nugget of wisdom by asking me to break down the original Rikki Tikki Tavi in a sentence or two to determine what it meant to me. No clever plays on the names of the characters or puns or anything like that. Just talk about why Rikki Tikki Tavi is such a special story in my mind.

So I thought about it for a minute or two, and the answer came to me with surprising ease. Rikki Tikki Tavi wasn't a dark story about animals killing one another. Oh, no. Rikki Tikki Tavi was about unflappable heroism and bravery in the face of overwhelming odds. It was about facing fear and adversity head on with nothing but grit, resolve and love as your weapons. It was about the little guy being picked on by the bullies, and finally standing up to them in a showdown the little guy couldn't stand a chance in... but he did it anyway. And he won.

So with that in my mind, I set out to write another pitch and send it to Chris. And I did exactly that. And we'll discuss that pitch a little more thoroughly--along with the moment when I very nearly pulled out of the project altogether--next time.

ONE WORD - BAMBOO

2010-01-15T13:58:00.000-08:00

So after visiting oneword.com this Tuesday, I discovered that the word I would be using as inspiration for writing a script this week would be bamboo. Before this Tuesday I knew practically nothing about bamboo, and I had absolutely no idea what kind of a script I would write using bamboo as a theme. But one of the cool things about this idea is that I'm going to inevitably be forced to stretch my boundaries a bit. So because I didn't know anything about bamboo, I started reading up on it. I discovered some pretty interesting things regarding bamboo, and one of the interesting things I discovered led to the script I've written below. Please forgive me for any grammatical or spelling gaffes. Because of the short time I had to complete it, this all unedited and raw, and my only chance to read over it to make corrections was while I was writing it. With that said, here is my very first One Word script - The Golden Lemur.

PAGE ONE

Panel 1. A well-groomed, middle-aged Japanese man named Takagi wearing an impeccable black suit sits at a table in a Japanese restaurant. He is the only person in the restaurant. His posture is relaxed, and he is holding a steaming cup of tea in one of his hands. There is an empty bowl, an empty plate, and a pair of chopsticks sitting on the table in front of him. There is also a pot of tea on the table.

Panel 2. Another middle-aged Japanese man named Han, dressed in the attire of a Japanese chef, enters the seating area of the restaurant from the kitchen holding a tray with a soup pot, and a dish with food on it. Takagi is watching Han as he enters the room and lifts his tea cup in a greeting.

TAKAGI:
Ah--there you are. I was afraid you’d keep me waiting all night.

HAN:
My apologies for the delay, Mr. Takagi.

Panel 3. Han has reached the table where Takagi is sitting, and is standing beside it with the tray of food. Takagi is looking at the tray of food with an eager expression, and Han seems ashamed.

TAKAGI:
I don’t mind the wait. The anticipation of a good meal is half the enjoyment. I know what you have to offer will be well worth the wait.

Panel 4. Han is setting the tray on a nearby table, and Takagi is peering around Han to look at the spread of food. He is rubbing his hands together and licking his chops. Han is peering backward out of the corner of his eye at Takagi with an expression of displeasure.

TAKAGI:
Oh, my--I think you’ve outdone yourself this time, Han. It all looks incredible.

HAN:
I thank you for the compliment.

PAGE TWO

Panel 1. Han has lifted the lid of the pot to present the contents to Takagi, and steam rises from the soup within. Takagi seems more eager than ever to delve into the culinary delights.

HAN:
Might I recommend beginning with our house special? This is one of our more popular dishes--a seasoned broth with fresh bamboo shoots over steamed rice.

TAKAGI:
As tempting as that offer is, Han--I’m quite famished. I’d like to start with the sashimi if you don’t mind.

Panel 2. Han is placing food on the plate in front of Takagi. Takagi is snapping his wooden chopsticks where they are connected at the bottom as he greedily eyes the food.

HAN:
As you wish.

Panel 3. Han is walking away from the table in the foreground, but Takagi is gesturing at Han with the hunk of food held between his chopsticks.

HAN:
If there is nothing else, I shall retire to the kitchen.

TAKAGI:
I’d much prefer it if you remained, Han. I find it exasperatingly dull to dine alone.

Panel 4. Han returns to stand beside the table as Takagi places the hunk of food into his mouth.

HAN:
As you wish.

Panel 5. Takagi is talking to Han around a mouthful of food. Takagi is looking around at the interior of the restaurant, taking it all in. Han is looking at Takagi with distaste.

TAKAGI:
I noticed the pictures of your delightful family scattered about. Where are they tonight?

HAN:
My family is at home. I did not think their presence would be required for a single patron.

PAGE THREE

Panel 1. Takagi is smiling now and holding another hunk of food between his chopsticks as he chats with Han.

TAKAGI:
That was probably a good idea. We can discuss our business more effectively without--unnecessary distraction. They are a very lovely family though, Han.

HAN:
Yes, they are. It would be a shame if something unfortunate were to befall them.

Panel 2. Takagi is amused as he prepares to place the hunk of food in his mouth.

TAKAGI:
You’re a pretty funny guy, Han. I like you. And you’re right--that would be a shame. But you know that’s exactly what will happen if you refuse my offer, don’t you?

HAN:
Yes. Yes, I do.

Panel 3. Takagi is chewing his food and talking around it again.

TAKAGI:
Your restaurant is doing quite well. You’re beginning to make a name for yourself in the city, and along with that comes enormous profit. I see no reason why we cannot both prosper from your good fortune.

Panel 4. Takagi has placed his chopsticks down on his nearly empty plate.

TAKAGI:
That certainly does hit the spot. Your skill at food preparation is unparalleled, Han. I daresay you have no peers.

Panel 5. The pot of soup is in the foreground, placed between the positions of Takagi and Han in the background. Takagi and Han are both looking over at the pot of soup.

TAKAGI:
But I must also say--the scent of that soup has been on my mind from the first moment I smelled it. Would you mind serving me some?

HAN:
As you wish.

PAGE FOUR

Panel 1. Han is spooning a ladle full of soup over a bowl of rice in front of Takagi. Takagi is practically licking his chops, spoon in hand.

TAKAGI:
Do you mind if I ask you a question, Han?

HAN:
I do not mind at all.

Panel 2. Takagi is dipping his spoon into the mixture of soup and rice steaming on the table before him. Han is watching Takagi closely.

TAKAGI:
I’ve always wondered about the name of this place. The Golden Lemur is a bit of an odd choice, don’t you think? Is there a story behind it, or did you draw it out of a hat--or what?

HAN:
There most certainly is a story behind the name. Would you like to hear it?

Panel 3. Takagi is holding a spoonful of steaming soup with one hand, and gesturing at the empty seat across from him with his other. Han is bowing his head slightly in response to Takagi’s request.

TAKAGI:
Only if you’ll agree to join me at the table.

HAN:
Yes--of course.

Panel 4. Takagi is blowing softly on his spoonful of steaming soup. Han is sitting across from Takagi now, and is speaking to him.

HAN:
As you are aware, my specialty as a chef is in utilizing the edible shoots of bamboo in most of my dishes. Bamboo can be prepared in a variety of ways--it can be fermented, sliced, boiled, fried or even pickled.

Panel 5. Takagi is shoveling the large spoonful of soup into his mouth. Han is watching Takagi with a calm expression on his face as he continues to speak.

HAN:
I prefer to use fresh stalks in my dishes. I have also used the hollows of the larger stalks to prepare other types of food. Cooking food in bamboo enhances the flavors in subtle, but rewarding ways.

PAGE FIVE

Panel 1. Takagi is holding another large spoonful, and is looking inquisitively at Han. Han is smiling ever so slightly at Takagi as he responds.

TAKAGI:
But what does that have to do with the name of your establishment?

HAN:
Ah, yes. There is an animal found on the island of Madagascar known as the golden bamboo lemur.

Panel 2. Takagi is eating another spoonful. Han is continuing his story, his expression still calm and peaceful.

HAN:
It is a fairly nondescript animal--not much different than the other lemurs found on the island. But there is one very specific feature of the golden bamboo lemur that sets it apart.

Panel 3. Takagi is pulling gently at his collar with one hand as he holds another large spoonful of soup with his other. He has a slightly strained expression on his face. He is having difficulty breathing. Han is watching him closely.

HAN:
It has the unique ability to consume the shoots of the giant bamboo without any adverse effects.

TAKAGI:
But--but what is unique about that? People eat bamboo every day.

Panel 4. Takagi has dropped the spoonful of soup from his fingers were it splatters on the tabletop. He is now actively gripping his throat, his face panicked, unable to breathe. Han is observing Takagi calmly as he continues his story.

HAN:
Yes, they do. But what most people do not realize--and what must be becoming apparent to you now--is that giant bamboo is quite poisonous if it is not properly prepared.

Panel 5. Takagi has his body stretched across the table in an effort to grab Han. Takagi’s fingers are curled into hooks, with one hand gripping the table cloth and the other grasping for Han. The dishes of food are scattering and clattering to the floor in his wake. Han is still speaking to Takagi with measured calm.

HAN:
The golden bamboo lemur consumes enough cyanide to kill a grown man each and every day of its life. How it does this is a mystery, but one that has fascinated me ever since I was a small child.

PAGE SIX

Splash Panel. Han is calmly pouring himself a cup of tea while sitting at his seat. Takagi is still stretched across the table, but he is dead.

HAN:
And now you know the reason for the name of my restaurant.

Zuda man now, dawg!

2010-01-14T07:58:00.000-08:00

Get it? It's like "You're the man now, dawg?" only on the Zuda tip...

Awwwww, yeah.

Anyway, my first Zuda project is coming along nicely. The script is finished and in the hands of the artist. Still not naming any names right now, but I'll be sure to do that once he gets back to me with layouts for the 8-pager so I can show them off. Should be any day now. It'll probably be in the Zuda post for next week, so stay tuned for that. The benevolent Dario Carrasco read the script and said he enjoyed it. My goal was to infuse it with as much action and humor as possible, and according to Dario I accomplished that goal with flying colors. So that was nice to hear.

In fact, I'd wager that if you enjoyed reading "The Thunderchickens", a Zuda admission I pimped a post ago, you'll most likely enjoy my offering as well. Of course, this is all predicated on the chances that the Zuda brass even accept our submission, but the fact that "The Thunderchickens" made it in and is receiving such a positive response is encouraging.

Two other quick notes. My first "One Word" script is coming along nicely and I'm hoping to post it up tomorrow at some point. I think the plan from this point forward will be to access oneword.com on Monday and write the script throughout the week to post up on Friday. This week I believe I got the word on Tuesday, and it was a challenging word to write a script about, to say the least. But I'll talk more about that tomorrow.

And as a final note, I have my first "follower" of the new year. So let me take a moment to pass on a warm and hearty greeting to mansloth! Thanks for reading the blog!

The Thunderchickens!

2010-01-11T12:53:00.000-08:00

Going outside the boundaries of what this blog is usually reserved for, but I think for something this cool... it's necessary! The reason for this post is to pimp a really great comic currently up for consideration at the Zuda Comics competition. It's done by a couple of creators I know over at Digital Webbing named William Dean Blankenship Jr. & Chad Boudreau. These guys are going all out to promote the comic and win the competition, and I definitely think it's worthy of the prize. They came up with a really neat promotional comic and asked, ever-so-nicely, for the Digital Webbing folks to spread it around as much as they could. So check the promo comic out below, and if you like it head on over to Zuda and give the actual comic a try HERE. And if you like THAT, please vote for it and add it to your favorites and, well... they say it much better than I ever could. So without further ado... the Thunderchickens! Click to read it in a much larger size.

The DWPFF Journey - Part 2

2010-01-11T08:15:00.000-08:00

Okay, first of all... Just got a look at two nearly-finished pages from the artist for this story. They are incredible!

All right, so in our last installment I mentioned that my editor, Chris Stevens, who is definitely the driving force behind the DWPFF project, suggested I adapt a story from Rudyard Kipling's "The Jungle Books" series. I also mentioned that as soon as I saw "The Jungle Books" in his email, I knew exactly which story I wanted to adapt. What story, you ask?

The story is "Rikki Tikki Tavi". Of all the stories in Kipling's Jungle Books series, the story of the young, inexperienced mongoose battling against the fearsome cobras in the garden of his adopted family's home has always been my favorite. There are a few reasons for that. First, anyone that knows me knows I love a good hero vs. villain story. For example, my favorite of the original Star Trek movies (with the original cast, I mean) is "Wrath of Khan". The reason being that the way Kirk and Khan interact with one another throughout the film is brilliant. My favorite Star Trek movie period, "First Contact", captures the exact same concepts between Picard and the Borg. In fact, in "Wrath of Khan", Khan quotes the incredible novel "Moby Dick", and Picard does the exact same thing (although with different quotes) in "First Contact". I just really happen to enjoy how characters that are polar opposites interact with one another in stories, movies, comics, etc., and "Rikki Tikki Tavi" is a perfect example of that.

Another thing I'm a sucker for is an underdog. I'm an unabashed fan of the Dallas Cowboys football team, but any year that they're eliminated from playoff contention in the NFL, I immediately hitch my horse to the wagon of the worst team the playoffs has to offer. And if it isn't the worst team, it's the team that has been the worst historically. I love rooting for the underdog, in all things. Now imagine you're reading a story where a half-drowned, undersized animal that looks like a cross between a ferret and a weasel is pitted against two massive, menacing and murderous cobras! Who would you root for? I rest my case.

(And if you said the cobras, my friend, you have no soul.)

But that isn't all that appeals to me about the story. If you think about it, the mongoose is kind of like nature's superhero. And I should know, because I absolutely love superheroes. I think they're keen. Now don't get me wrong, I realize the mongoose doesn't have superpowers like some animals out there. He's not super-fast like the cheetah, or able to generate electric current like certain types of eels can, but what the mongoose does do better than any living creature on the planet... is fight poisonous snakes! And if there's any animal out there that resembles a supervillain more than a poisonous snake, I don't know what it is. Cheetahs and eels aren't out there using their unique gifts to battle these fiends. That's all mongoose.

And finally, and most importantly, the reason the story of "Rikki Tikki Tavi" appeals to me most of all is because I really feel like it captures the idea that love can conquer all. Think about it. Here's this little mongoose, facing overwhelming odds in the form of a couple of snakes that could eat him up in a single bite. He's outgunned and outnumbered, and the snakes give him the option to turn tail and run. The easy thing to do would be to abandon the family living in that house and head for the hills. But because the family saved his life, fed him and provided him with a home, Rikki decides that the only way those snakes are going to run his family out of their home is over his dead body. If you love something, you want to fight for it no matter what it might cost, and "Rikki Tikki Tavi" captures the essence of that idea perfectly. It's one of my favorite stories ever, and I'm just hoping to do it justice.

That's enough for this installment, I think. Next time we'll talk about my "RTT" pitch and the numerous false starts I made while writing the script.

It's a Zuda out there

2010-01-08T08:19:00.000-08:00

So I'm nearly finished with the 8-page script for my first Zuda submission. The writing has gone surprisingly well, and I'm hoping to finish up with it today and have it in the hands of my artist so he can take a look at it over the weekend. The project is something I originally collaborated on with artist Dario Carrasco. Dario came up with the main characters and did a killer sketch of them, and I built the the concept, the supporting characters and the world they inhabit from his initial design. We'd tried to launch it as a webcomic once or twice in the past, but something always seemed to get in the way of that endeavor with artists dropping out, other projects creeping up, etc. Because of the project's potential as a webcomic, we both thought Zuda would be a natural evolution for it. We also finally have an artist we think we can rely on working on the project, and that makes all the difference. I'll be updating this blog with progress reports regarding the project as we continue to push forward with it, including revealing the name of the project, the concept itself, the artist attached to it, and anything else I can think of. Ideally I'd like to have it sent into the Zuda brass sometime in March, at the latest, and if it's accepted I'll probably create another blog specifically about the project where I can pimp it properly. Back to work!

The One Word Project

2010-01-07T07:29:00.000-08:00

If you're familiar with the website oneword.com, you know the idea behind it is you click the "GO" button, it pops a word up on the screen, and then you have 60 seconds to write whatever comes to mind regarding that word. It's a neat little concept, but unfortunately 60 seconds isn't nearly long enough to finish a comic script. So one of my ideas for improving and producing more as a writer this year (and supplying this blog with content) is to warm-up by taking a suggestion from oneword.com and writing a small sample script based on the word that I'm given. Nothing longer than 5 pages or so, unless I'm feeling truly inspired. I think it'll be a good exercise, and it might even result in some ideas that could be developed further on down the line. Ya never know, right? I'm going to try and do at least one of these a week. If I can't stick to that, I don't think I have any business being a writer at all, so let's all cross our fingers. But don't cross your fingers on both hands, because that would be a double-cross.

The DWPFF Journey - Part 1

2010-01-06T11:15:00.000-08:00

What is DWPFF, you ask? It's a project I'm working on, that's what! It stands for Digital Webbing Presents Future Fairy tales. The idea behind the concept is to take traditional fairy tales, myths, tall tales, etc. and put a future spin on them. The idea started on the Digital Webbing message boards when one of the many creators mentioned that there really hadn't been anything put together in concert by the Digital Webbing community since the anthology title Digital Webbing Presents folded. Ideas were tossed around, and it was eventually decided that putting a future spin on fairy tales would be a fantastic, if daunting, project to undertake. A submissions process was developed, editors were chosen, and creators were invited to pitch their little hearts out for a shot at inclusion into the project. The first step in the process was to pitch written concepts on the Digital Webbing forums with art, lettering and the other necessities of comic book making to come later on down the line.

I was asked by one of the editors of the project, a fine gentleman by the name of Chris Stevens, to pitch my own idea for the project. The first idea I came up with dealt with "The Ugly Duckling". Here's the pitch, as I originally worded it to Chris...

An alien lands on Earth in an egg-shaped capsule. He is “born” from the capsule with no knowledge of who or what he is. He is adopted by a human family that assure him he is one of their own, no different than anybody else, but he is so hideous that just the sight of him causes any person he interacts with to mistreat him. After years of horrible treatment, the alien race comes to Earth with plans to eliminate humanity and colonize the planet for themselves. The Ugly Duckling, despite all he’s gone through, convinces the aliens to spare humanity, becoming humanity’s beloved savior… their swan.

I had plans to tweak it a little more. I'd considered setting the story in a not-so-distant future where humanity was so obsessed with their appearance that everyone would be fit and healthy with good skin, straight teeth, and all those other outward characteristics people seem to value so much these days, along with some other ideas. Although Chris thought the idea was a pretty good one, there'd already been a story based on that tale accepted into the project. While waiting for Chris to respond, I'd also noticed quite a few of the other pitches dealt with alien life landing on a future Earth. So even if "The Ugly Duckling" had been accepted into the project, I would have definitely altered it to compensate for those similarites. Chris encouraged me to pitch again, and I had a vague idea about one of my favorites, "The Brave Little Tailor", but because Chris had provided me with a list of fairy tales he had hoped would be pitched in his initial rejection, I immediately set my sights on his suggestion of material from "The Jungle Books".

What was the story that immediately sprang to mind? I'll tackle that and more next time.

2010

2010-01-04T11:15:00.000-08:00

So I've started a new blog for a new year. I seem to do this every other year or so and eventually get burned out, scrap it, and start anew after another year or so has passed. But! I'm going to try and not do that this time. How, you ask? Well, I actually haven't really got a clue. But I'm going to give it a shot anyway.

There are a few things in the pipeline for 2010. I'm contributing a story to a massive anthology that will most likely be published either this year or next, I'm going to try like gangbusters to get something of mine into the Zuda competition. More on that to come. I'm also going to try my damnedest to get a few other things published here and there.

But primarily what I'd like to do is get some writing done for a change. I'm hoping that this blog will help with that. I'll be trying to post up some short scripts (5-pages or so) from time to time as exercises using keywords, random images or even suggestions from visitors as inspiration, along with updates on the things I'm up to. I want to make this year a good one... wish me luck!