Go have a peek….

The title page of The Invisible Skein is live, the comic proper begins on Monday. Our normal posting schedule will have a new page live every Monday, Wednesday & Friday, although this week will also have new pages on Tuesday and Thursday, to give the story a little momentum.

We hope you enjoy it.

Some handy links to things that are on my radar at the moment.

- The Invisible Skein is proceeding on pace for launch on Dec 14th.

- Plenty of fun items already available at The Invisible Skein store. They make great Christmas gifts…

- The latest installment of my column, Four Color Memories is live at Hypergeek, and you can find an archive of past columns here.

- I also did a little photo booklet for the Whitechapel board, which you can find here.

- The latest installment of Emma Vieceli’s webcomic Dragon Heir is live, if you’re not reading it, you should be.

- My friend Robin is selling some very nice photo prints at her site, which you can find here. They also make lovely gifts.

- And my friend Elana just posed for a photoshoot with Katie West. You can find them here, if you’re so inclined. Yes, they are nudes, so no, not safe for work.

I just had a fun discussion with Ron Marz (writer of Witchblade) over at Twitter. I’m going to share the conversation with you, unedited, before I provide some closing thoughts.

For those unfamiliar with the conventions of Twitter, the @ symbol, in front of a name, means you’re directing that comment at that person. The letters RT stand for ReTweet and mean that you’re reposting that person’s comment.

Ron’s comments are presented in BOLD, mine in Italics.

RT @ErikJLarsen Catering to continuity buffs hurts all. [True! Telling stories that only longtime readers understand is slow road to doom.]

@ronmarz I’m just not sure I buy that. If readers can’t follow the story, the problem isn’t the use of continuity, it’s just bad writing.

@kpatrickglover Relying too heavily upon continuity leads to bad writing, or at least writing that the wide audience can’t understand.

@kpatrickglover If you only want to appeal to the readers you already have, that’s the way to go. But it does not grow the readership.

@ronmarz I didn’t say to rely strictly on continuity, but if the story you want to tell relies on past events, you should be able to refer..

@ronmarz ..to those events in a way that tells the reader what they need to know without alienating them.

@kpatrickglover Yes, writers should be able to do that. Too often, they don’t. Some comics I get in my comp box are incomprehensible to me.

@kpatrickglover I think you can refer to past events in a way that is welcoming to new readers. But wallowing in the past is a big barrier.

@ronmarz Then we agree. It’s just when I read books like that I don’t blame the use of the continuity, I blame the guy who wrote it that way

@kpatrickglover I feel like you can refer to continuity, but you should never make your story dependent upon continiuty.

@kpatrickglover Too often, that’s the case now — whole stories are built upon something that happened 20 years ago.

@kpatrickglover That stuff is embraced by the hardcore audience, but does nothing to attract the next generation of readers.

@ronmarz Okay, let’s say you want to write a story about Sherlock Holmes that takes place during the three years he was thought dead after..

@ronmarz his fall from Reichenbach Falls. That story would be dependent on the fact that Holmes is thought dead and in hiding from…

@ronmarz Moriarty’s men and that he can’t turn to Watson for help. Now, you can set all manner of good stories in that frame, but they’ll

@ronmarz all be dependent on making sure the reader knows Holmes’ situation.

@kpatrickglover Right, that’s an explanation of a few lines. The problem with so much comic continuity is that it’s overly complex…

@kpatrickglover …and not easily explained. There’s too much pre-knowledge expected from the audience.

@ronmarz But, X-men aside, does it have to be? I can’t think of any story in comics that relies on old material, that you couldn’t explain..

@ronmarz ….in a few lines. I just think certain writers choose to make it overly dense or complicated and that’s where the mistake is.

@kpatrickglover I can think of plenty of recent examples where the focal point of a story is continuity-driven. Unfortunately…

@kpatrickglover …I make it a practice to refrain from being crtitical of specific stories or creators. It’s not professional.

@kpatrickglover Sorry I can’t be more specific. Short version: stories need to be more accessible…

@kpatrickglover …both in concept and in execution.

@ronmarz I was going to say I didn’t want to get into specific stories because I didn’t want to point fingers at anybody, so yeah. We agree.

I think Ron and I are basically in agreement on most of this. Neither of us think that comics should be so dense with continuity that they are impenetrable to the new reader. That can only end badly.

We disagree on specifics, I think, but it’s hard to get there in a public conversation without talking about specific creators, and neither of us wants to go there.

I will say this, there’s a difference between basing a story off of an event that happened twenty years ago and wallowing in the minutia of that event. Tell the reader what they need to know to join in the fun and don’t rely on an overabundance of tiny details.

Continuity should be something you add to the mix, an extra ingredient that makes the meal just a bit sweeter. Lagniappe, as they say down in New Orleans. It should never be the main course.

So, I was playing this writer’s game with some friends from Whitechapel last night. We started with a simple idea, a hat is blown into an almost empty cafe. From there we each wrote a paragraph, entirely improv, nobody having any clue what the next person would write. What starts melancholy quickly turns to…. well, you’ll see.

I am responsible (if you must know) for paragraphs 1, 8 & 14. The others can be credited to my friends Robin LeBlanc, Andre Navarro, Rootfirember, VKlaus & Jess. No effort has been made to retouch or polish the story, this is what we produced in the wee hours last night.

Frank watched as the old man left the cafe, struggling with the door in the wind. It almost caught him and pulled him out, but he managed to maintain his balance and push the door closed. Just before he turned away, Frank realized that a rumpled gray fedora had blown into the room. He watched it as it tottered on edge and finally fell to the ground. It was a pleasant looking hat, full of character. It reminded him of the one he owned many years ago, before the war. But then, everything reminded him of life before the war.

They said war changed a man. They did not mention, in the infinite wisdom of generations past and hoarded scraps of wisdom, that it also changed everything it touched. Even something as simple as a hat skittering along the floor until it came to a stop. The simple object was more than a hat; it was a symbol of things loved and lost, and days long past.

It hadn’t been a hat, thirty years ago. It had been a helmet, with a hole in it, rolling down the hill until it hit a puddle of mud. The rain washed the blood off of it. On the top of the hill, dozens of soldiers were being massacred by mounted machineguns. It was a sight he’d have seared into his mind forever, but the helmet rolling down the hill was the strongest memory he had of it. Somehow, it was stronger than seeing dozens of people being mowed down because of nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

While the helmet rolling down the hill with a hole in it was a symbol of the futility of the war, Frank’s own helmet was a symbol of strength and power.  This was proven when Frank’s squadron infiltrated the base that held the horrible General Franz Kraustitt.  Since 1941 the general had been heading horrible experiments on prisoners of war, animals and even his own men.  He was a madman trying to play god who had to be stopped.  Frank was the first one to find him and immediately the general fired at him.  A stray bullet hit his wrist and his gun dropped to the ground.

As Frank sank deeper into the memories spurred so rudely by the lost fedora, a small turtle watched him carefully from across the room. No one paid much attention to the turtle sitting in the small plastic cage on the counter. It was unusual for the young girl to bring the creature to the cafe, but a closer inspection of the reptile confirmed that he was brown, boring and an otherwise unremarkable pet. The turtle was not inclined to do much to entertain his audience, as he was concentrating on Frank. Something, SOMETHING about the man seemed vaguely familiar. Unsettled somewhat by being unable to place the old man, the turtle’s good sense told him to stay quiet. Yet he wanted to know more. The man across the room seemed strangely intent upon watching the hat, and the turtle couldn’t help but remember a man wearing a similar fedora.

There had been experiments before the war, and during it upon beasts. Vivisection was the tip of the iceberg in those muddy years; though it was thought to be the origin of what some called hyper-intelligence in some animals. It was not; but most people seemed to prefer to think of abominable origins for animals that spoke and thought like men, instead of believing sentience in animals could have come from more natural origins. People wanted to be the smart ones. They were intimidated, and fearful of these strange animals among them. So the turtle kept his beak shut, kept his thoughts to himself.

The turtle had made a promise to himself many years ago. To be precise, seventy years ago, before the human who “owned” him was even born. It had promised it would never, ever speak, even though the experiment had given it the ability to do so (albeit with a hideous accent), and in the lifespan of a turtle, picking up languages is no challenge. Still, the turtle knew what would happen if it dared to speak, like that time the human dropped him and he went “AAAOW FUCK”. Luckily the human was constantly on drugs, which made things easier to forget. But a cafe full of people… still, if the human continued to wear that damned hat, something horrible would happen.

The turtle sighed. He had to get out of the cage, get to the man with the hat, and make sure nothing was undone that should not be undone. Escaping wouldn’t be too difficult, he thought. The human had been careless lately. She had left the top panel of the cage open, and all he had to do was get his claws in the air vents just below the lid. From there, he could pull himself up and out. Luckily, the human seemed to be engrossed in her french fries, so the turtle took this opportunity to sneak to the corner of the cage, stand on his tip-toes, and crawl atop the plastic prison that he lived in from day to day. He took a moment to savor the fresh air and the smells of the cafe. Then, faster than you could blink, he too was gone.

The turtle was quickly realizing what was at stake. Drastic measures would have to be taken. The ability to speak was only the first successful experiment (after five that failed very painfully). The second was the ability to hide in plain sight. The turtle walked into an alley and, sure nobody was seeing him, he started to grow. Suddenly it could stand on his hind legs, and the shell on his back became as soft as flesh, and his face grew a nose and the eyes widened. He was now… a hunchback.

No longer a turtle, General Krausititt’s started the long hike back to his office, where he knew Frank would be waiting. It was cold, but he knew it would be. He had lived this day before. He almost hadn’t survived it, but his scientists had got to him after the shot, before he bled out. The transformation was complicated, but quick. He bore Frank no ill will, he wasn’t looking for revenge. But he had no intention of taking another bullet. The timestream must be preserved, but some other way. He would not be turtlized again today.

Krausititt could feel the timestream pulling, trying to create a loop, to make what once was merely repeat itself ad nauseum. He’d had an assistant once, a rather dim jackal-creature that had warned him of such things…every five minutes. He’d taken heed of the warning, then ended the looping for the mad beast with a few well-aimed shots. Krausititt pursed his lips, and didn’t let his will waver; history would not repeat itself. It must not. The fate of the world depended on it. He had seen it.

It wasn’t until Kraustitt stepped in to the same room they were in all those years ago that things started to happen.  Kraustitt managed to catch a surprised look from Frank before everything went blue for a moment.  Suddenly it was 1944 again.  Kraustitt was exactly where he was when Frank had stepped in.  His first instinct was to reach for his gun, but he thought better of it.  That would lead to Frank dropping his gun and then in a surprise move, getting it back and shooting him.  Besides, he could see that Frank was hesitating.  He knew that a change had happened.  Keeping his gun in his holster, Kraustit smiled at Frank.  “I suppose you want to know what’s going on, yes?”  Frank’s eyes widened.  “y..yes…”  “Don’t worry.  All will be explained in good time.  Would you like some cocoa?  Before your men got here we had a pot of it brewing.”  Frank lowered his gun and started to walk towards Kraustitt, unaware that Klaus, the 7-foot seargent-major built like a gorilla was slowly creeping behind him.

The veritable man-god grabbed him by his unsuspecting ears and hoisted him to the ceiling. “You see,” explained Krausitit, “You have been brought back into time to re thread history”. The rage was bulding in Franks face, pink an purple from pain and anger. “YOU SON OF A BITCH I’LL HAVE YOUR DISGUSTING ZOMBIE TURTLE HEAD FOR THIS! YOU CAN’T STOP ME!” SHOUTED Frank, “You are all demons, and god will rain vengeance upon your soul!” To which Krausitit replied. “No Frank, you are the demons”

and then Frank was a Zombie

So, you all know by now that I’m writing a weekly column for Hypergeek called Four Color Memories. Here’s a little insight into how such a column is written.

I sit down on Sunday and sort through my notes to determine what I want to write about the next week.

I determine that my notes are all crap and I have no idea what the next column’s going to be about.

I spend some time pacing (about two days, sometimes three), trying to come up with an idea.

I come to the conclusion that I have nothing to say, that the whole idea of writing a column was ridiculous and that I should just give up while I’m ahead.

An Idea arrives.

I spend several more hours pacing, looking for an opening hook. Deadlines loom.

After beating my head on the wall until it feels like mush (my head, not the wall), the hook comes and I sit down to write.

I type up the hook and stare at the blank space beneath. I have two paragraphs, I need two pages.

I spend sometime on comics.org and wikipedia, researching my idea. This is fruitful. I quickly fill in the comic portions of the column.

Now come the anecdotes. Why I set the column up this way, I have no idea, but I require anecdotes to tie things together. This causes more pacing.

I watch some TV, because Letterman and John Stewart are distracting and I need distractions.

Finally, some old stories come to mind and I fill in the rest of the column. One more pass through, tighten things up, and the column is ready.

Now, what to write about next week…..?

First order of business, the new promo poster for The Invisible Skein, by Amanda Hayes.

Isn’t it pretty?

The comic launches December 14th.

Also, I’ve got a new column up at Hypergeek, which you can read here.

More news later this week…

Beginning today, I am writing a weekly column on comics for the Hypergeek website. It’s a nostalgic look back at the comics of yesteryear, along with other ramblings of a pop culture nature. Come check it out.

Installment # 1

Art by the fabulous Amanda Hayes.

Feel free to download, save, copy, repost or distribute in any manner you choose, as long as

the titles and URL  stay intact.

In general, I’m pretty happy with capitalism. I like the free market, I like it when people are able to make a nice living selling things that we all want to buy. I don’t even have a problem (well, at least much of one) with people who sell things that NONE of us need or want to buy. More power to them, as long as they’re not conning people out of their pensions or making bogus medical claims that keep people from seeking real treatment.

But, like I say, in general, I support capitalism.

Here comes the exception.

When a free market system for a particular service, after many years of change and practice, evolves into a system that provides no real service to the consumer and seems to exist for no other purpose than taking our money, it’s time for that system to go away. Let the government step in and take over, for our protection. That’s why it’s there, to protect us as a whole, when we can’t do it on our own.

The health insurance system is just such a mess. They have turned into nothing more than a monetary middleman, skimming profits off the top and doing everything they can to not pay for treatments when they are needed.

Greed, it seems, is a pre-existing condition.

The figures I’ve seen show that 30% of the cost of health care in this country goes to the insurance companies, for doing, essentially, nothing. Medicare, by contrast, has an overhead of 3%.

You see where this is going?

If I’m going to pay for health care (and we’re all going to pay for health care, one way or another), I’d rather do it through my taxes, with lower overhead, knowing that whatever I pay in is at least going into the actual health care system and not into the pocket of some insurance executive.

Just my two cents…