A Month’s Time

My last entry was one month ago. I need to update more regularly because a month seems daunting when so much has happened. So I’ll be (relatively) brief.

In between a holiday in the desert (a landscape I love more and more) and wonderful visits from friends, I finished Book #2. Woo hoo! After some feedback I will soon begin a session of revision.

I like that part: revision–smoothing out the rough bits. The sculpture is there, it’s on the table. I know what it wants to be, but it need a little buffing, some chiseling, and polishing. Hard work, but I can see an end.

(And I am so excited to share it with you!)

During this last month I also took a class on comic writing with writer Michael Moreci at the Newberry Library (this glorious library deserves its own post, but for now I say, “Go there! Where else can you see collections that “span the history and culture of western Europe from the Middle Ages to the mid-twentieth century and the Americas from the time of first contact between Europeans and Native Americans” for free? Truly a Chicago treasure. Go!)

I am inspired by folks like Neil Gaiman and Joe Hill and a handful of others who tell their stories the way their stories need to be told, whether that’s as a novel, a comic book, a poem, a film, a play, and so on. I believe there is a valuable lesson is recognizing that stories come in all shapes and sizes.

The class was wonderful for someone like me, unschooled in the craft of comic/graphic novel writing but eager to learn. Plus once a week I got to read books, do homework, and go to class  (I haven’t done that as a student in nearly 2 decades).

Clearly the others in the class had read much more than I; my experience is limited to comics of my youth and college forays into Neil Gaiman, Alan Moore, Art Spiegelman, and a few others. I felt out of my league with these students who lived and breathed comics for the last few decades, throwing around issues and arcs in our discussions. But they were kind and allowed me to ask many (probably obvious to them) questions.

It was wonderful to break it all apart: read classics and new incarnations, learn about the process of crafting a series, a graphic novel, a re-imagined character. Joe Hill’s Locke & Key was terrific and Moore’s Swamp Thing blew me away, Wil Eisner’s instruction books are a great resource,  and Moreci is a patient, informed, and generous instructor.

Then I had to write a comic script.

My brain broke a bit, in a good way, because when it came back together, I learned things.

Writing is a joy for me, even when challenging, but this was new and didn’t come naturally for me. There were so many new things to think about: Panels! Perspective! Words in captions that cannot go on and on for pages! Ah brevity, we meet again, and I have more to learn. Descriptions that will only be read by an artist! Panels! Pages!

In the beginning I was paralyzed. How many panels? How do I choose? Which perspective? Closer or farther? How do I say something in the most concise way possible?

*Here I thank Twitter for recent 140 constraints that have helped to teach me about trimming down my natural tendency to be verbose. 😉 *

It was writing, but a bit like learning a sestina or villanelle for the first time: it was work.

But I LOVED it! I loved having to stretch outside my comfort zone and take risks. I know I made mistakes, but I look forward to learning from them. We discuss the pieces next week. I can’t wait to read the other students’ scripts. It’s fun to have something so complex to learn and explore.

I tried to explain why I found it challenging to a non-writer friend. When I write, it’s almost like uncovering a sculpture from the marble (a la Michelangelo):

Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.
-Michelangelo

But with comic writing, it’s like trying to create a human body, with all those interconnected systems. The script is like the skeleton, and even though I am not going to make the muscles, skin, etc., I need to have an idea of what they are going to look like and give instructions for their construction. There’s so much to consider. It’s not just the form, it’s all that stuff underneath. Comic writing is about guts.

Now, of course I know that good writing is also layered and complex. I love allusion more than most. I also know that not all comics are that complicated. However, the metaphor helped when I tried to explain the way the process felt to me. The closest thing I could compare it to is the surrealists’ Exquisite Corpse exercise (and we’re back to the body metaphor.)

Good things on the horizon: a few more trips, some fun parties, and then glorious Autumn with her cooler temperature and the natural inclination to turn inward as the Earth prepares to slumber. Nice to remember as the temperatures soar: it is only temporary.

Soon the wheel will turn again.

I hope to write more and often again before then.

Celebrating.

 

It’s about time

Very often, there are things that adults like, and things that children like. A great many of these remain separate; worlds that do not collide.

Some things bridge the worlds, things like chocolate, ghost stories, amusement parks, crayons, and puppies. I believe those things are magic because they rekindle, they reconnect, they remind.

The things that children and grown-ups love in common bridge the divide between childhood and adulthood. They exist in a liminal realm where anything is possible and all you need is a good book, or a day to play in the tall grass, or a story by the fire, or a show that transports you into a new world outside the universe.

This weekend our family watched Doctor Who together for the first time. The five of us piled onto the couch. The kids were deliciously scared by some bits and delighted by others. I could tell they felt privileged to watch a “grown-up show,” initiated into the late night television-watching typically reserved for their parents. I had almost as much fun observing their reactions as I did watching the fourth episode of this season.

“Do you know who wrote this episode?” I asked them before it began.

“Neil Gaiman,” my oldest answered. “I heard you talking about it. That’s why you’re letting us watch, isn’t it?”

I nodded. Then it began, and they were silent for the whole thing, hiding beneath the covers that stretched across our laps, peeking out when it was “safe.” My oldest is nearly 8 years-old and spent most of the episode like this:

She was squished up next to me, so I couldn’t get a proper picture, but you get the idea.

This episode was a love letter to the TARDIS, a new addition to the cosmology of the Doctor Who world, and (as Doctor Who should be) it was also an adventure: smart and snappy and delightfully creepy. It’s an episode that I would like to watch again to better catch echoes and allusions I missed the first time.

When it was over, the kids poked their heads up from the blanket and out from behind their hands. I asked them how they liked it. They nodded, serious and a bit frightened.

“We liked it,” they said cautiously. Solemnly. “The spaceship was so cool. Bigger on the inside.”

“Tell me more,” I urged.

*SPOILERS below…sort of*

“I was freaked out by the old guy in the hall and the bloody writing on the wall. Why did there have to be blood?” asked my son, aged 5 1/2.

“I didn’t like the running around the hallway parts,” answered my oldest (the nearly 8-year-old). “And I didn’t understand why they just didn’t hold hands. Then they would have been safe.”

“I didn’t like the door closing between them,” answered my 3-year-old, the Blueberry Girl. “It freaked me out,” she said, parroting her brother.

The conversation quickly turned to how my son would build his TARDIS and where they would travel if they met the Doctor. Then it was time for bed.

Only one of them had nightmares. They all want to watch Doctor Who again.

Like I said: Magic.

Poppet plays Miss Lupescu & other collaborations

The lovely and talented Lisa Snellings makes Poppets. Well, it’s probably more accurate to say that Lisa is astute and intuitive enough to have tapped into the magical world of Poppets, and she shares them with the rest of the world. 😉

I love Poppets. Many people do. There are photos of Poppets all around the world in unexpected places. Here’s one of mine at the door to the fairy tree in our backyard.

If you would like a glimpse into the mind and process of this remarkable artist, Lisa’s blog is here. You can also purchase her poppets here, and that brings me to the point of this quick little entry.

Poppets love books. Lisa has created Poppets playing various fictional characters and reading their favorites. Most recently, Lisa created a Miss Lupescu Poppet (from Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book).

I love her. (How could I not?)

As if you needed another reason to invite this Poppet into your home, Lisa is donating 20% of the sales of the Miss Lupescu Poppet (and only 4 remain) to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund (or CBDLF). If Miss Lupescu is not your favorite, there are many other fanciful creatures on her etsy site:

http://www.etsy.com/shop/Strangestudios

Poppet Plays Miss Lupescu - The Graveyard Book - Neil Gaiman

I love it when artists inspire one another and collaborate to find new ways to introduce wonder into the world.

Speaking of collaboration, the Night Garden has its newest Inspiration Challenge with Christopher Lincoln (author of Billy Bones). Visit the Night Garden site, see his sketch, and participate to support Great Lakes Bengal Rescue.

Mr. Lincoln will give away the original doodle to the person whose donation puts them over the $250 mark by midnight, June 30th. Entries will be accepted May 1, 2011 through June 30, 2011.

My oldest already loved Billy Bones, but Mr. Lincoln became one of the kids’ favorite writers when he met us for a coffee in Minneapolis. They had a lovely chat and he signed her book. She was SO excited!  (Buy a copy of his marvelous books, and share them with kids of all ages!)

One last collaboration tidbit, if you haven’t head of the Nighty Night album by 8 in 8 (a collaboration by Amanda Palmer, Neil Gaiman, Ben Folds, and Damian Kulash of OK Go), read more about their creative process of working together at Mad Oak Studios to create 6 songs in 12 hours at the www.eightineight.com website. You can also listen and buy a digital copy of the album at http://music.amandapalmer.net/album/nighty-night

My kids love several of the songs and have been sing The Problem with Saints (the Joan of Arc song) for the last two weeks. This has also resulted into the acquisition of new interesting vocabulary words for my 3, 5, and 7-year-olds: bisected, vivisect, and bifurcated. (Have I mentioned how much the kids’ teacher love me?)

Inspired by the album and encouraged by Amanda and Neil, their fans created videos of the songs that can also be viewed on the site.

I leave you with one of my favorites: