October Comics (2021): ALIENS book one

 

From Dark Horse Comics, written by Mark Verheiden, art by Mark A. Nelson, with lettering by Willie Schubert. This was Dark Horse's second major licensed title after a Godzilla special the previous year, and it became a ripe property for many great comic stories. 

Ten years later, Hicks & Newt are still haunted by nightmares of what they experienced on the moon of Acheron, when the aliens overran the colony and the marine complement sent to investigate the colonists' disappearance. Now, they are going back into space to gather specimens of these aliens for the government, which has ideas of creating a bioweapon from these fierce killers. Newt is looking for escape from the mental hospital where they keep her sedated, while Hicks seeks only revenge. But, unknown to most on the military ship, BioNational -- a huge corporation with the same ideas as the government -- has paid off the primary officer on the ship and is following them, in order to grab the aliens for themselves once the marines have taken care of business. Of course, everything goes to hell, because there's nothing like a happy ending -- or even a clean ending -- when aliens are involved. 

Verheiden's story is a proper sequel to the first two Aliens films and moves the story along nicely. But, I don't know if it would land so well if not for the moody, black-and-white art from Mark Nelson. Nelson's work in this series is, for me, the star. His feathery inking adds a dimension to the human characters that can be lost in very strict inkwork, such as would often be found in superhero comics, and his delineation of the aliens is breathtaking. They are dominant and creepy and intimidating all at once. I re-read this series regularly and almost always at this time of year. It's a perfect book to read as the weather turns colder and the rising breeze skitters dry leaves up the street. If you're looking for a great October read, you should check this out. It's great!

-chris

OCTOBER COMICS (2015): Saga of the Swamp Thing #21

“The Anatomy Lesson,” written by Alan Moore, art by Stephen Bissette & John Totleben, colors by Tatjana Wood, lettering from John Costanza

Swamp Thing is the comic that put Alan Moore “on the map,” and issue 21 is one of my all-time favorite single issues.  In the previous issue, Moore and his collaborators had killed Swamp Thing, as bullets riddled his muck-encrusted body.  Dead, Swamp Thing’s body has been taken to a research lab in a high-rise building, the modern marvel of “the old man,” a businessman who wants to know the secrets of Swamp Thing’s metamorphosis from Alec Holland into this plant creature and, hopefully, exploit these findings for himself.  To that end, he hires Jason Woodrue, the Floronic Man, a similarly afflicted scientist, to do an autopsy and discover all that he can about Swamp Thing. 

Through his investigation, the Floronic Man comes to discover that Swamp Thing, though his body has incorporated plant-like body parts that appear to be analogous to human ones, e.g. lungs, kidneys, a heart, none of these actually work in the manner they should.  These are plants, not human tissue, and could not act in the same manner.  What this means is that Swamp Thing is not a melding of Alec Holland and the swamp plants, as a result of the explosion years ago, but is actually a plant being created to mimic Holland, somehow incorporating his essence, or his soul.  But, for all intents and purpose, Holland is dead and will never be revived. 

More importantly, though, if this is actually a botanic simulacrum and not a human encrusted with plants, then bullets cannot kill it.  It is not dead.  The only thing keeping it subdued is the cryogenic crypt within which it is being held.  If someone were to raise the temperature, it would resuscitate.  And if it found out the truth—that it can never return to being Alec Holland, can only ever be a plant monster with the mind of Holland—then it might take its frustrations out ona a particular old man who did not appreciate the Floronic Man’s findings. 

With this issue, Moore & company completely reimagined the character of Swamp Thing without contradicting anything that came before (as Moore is wont to do).  But, like most comics, this would not have worked so well without the artistic contributions of Bissette & Totleben.  They are the gold standard, all due respect to Berni Wrightson, when it comes to Swamp Thing.  True collaborators—their thoughts and ideas were invited and incorporated by Moore—they not only drew Swamp Thing as a monstrous being who was covered with plants and tubers and vines, but also utilized inventive panel layouts and added details (such as crafting panel and page borders from collections of spiders and their webbing) to add to the ambience and mood of the comic.  Under these three master storytellers, along with the contributions of Wood & Constanza, as well as later collaborators such as Rick Veitch, Shawn McManus, and others, the character of Swamp Thing—and, to a lesser extent, horror comics—was revitalized for a market that seemed to have passed him by.  And he continues to loom over the DC comics landscape today, though nobody has seemed able to crack the code as to his popularity so well as Moore, et al. did so deftly back in the early-eighties. 

chris

OCTOBER COMICS (2015): Ann by the Bed, by Emily Carroll

“Ann by the Bed,” Emily Carroll’s contribution to Youth in Decline’s quarterly monograph series, Frontier, is a comic that will linger with you long after the final page.  Horror is tough to do in comic form.  There are no musical cues, as with film and television, to enhance one’s emotional reaction and add dread or discomfort to a scene.   Any use of gore within the comic medium can never be as visceral as that found in film, and the scare tactics utilized within those other visual media are almost impossible to replicate in comic form.  So, despite rare exceptions, horror doesn’t work in comics.  But if a creator chooses to attempt a horror comic, one is often left with creating a moody, atmospheric narrative as the best approach.  Emily Carroll achieves that brilliantly.

“Ann by the Bed” revolves around the grisly murder of a young girl, Ann Herron, and her family in early twentieth-century Canada, and the urban myth that has come to surround this heinous act.  In later years, it has become a parlor game, of sorts, similar to the Candyman myth or a Ouija board, utilized by older children to scare themselves and their friends.  Carroll interweaves the “true” history of Ann Herron (I place the word true in quotes because I am uncertain about whether Carroll created the history of Ann Herron for this tale, or if it is, in actuality, a true historical happening) with various instances of children playing Ann by the Bed, and the odd happenings that follow these games – often embodied by Ann Herron’s spirit visiting them.

Presenting these disparate scenarios – Herron’s history and the varied children playing Ann by the Bed –adds a sense of gravity to the tale that insinuates itself into your psyche, as you read, ratcheting up the tension slowly even as your mind shifts from reading this as fiction and begins treating it as non-fiction.  Carroll capitalizes on this shift in perspective with the final page, a full-page image that burns itself onto the back of your brain as it lurches the breath from your lungs, leaving you wondering:  Will Ann visit me tonight, or will I be able to avoid dying in my sleep?

Carroll’s art, and the way she deftly teases out the narrative in this story, is phenomenal.  She creates a looming sense of unease that is hard to shake off.  This is one of the most successful horror comics I’ve ever read.  Not only has the impact of the narrative remained with me, but I have also been pondering the craft encompassed therein.  This is a book I want to study a bit more, to try and fully understand how she pulled off this amazing feat.  It’s a rare creator who can imbue a narrative full of static images with such emotion and dread, and Carroll needs to be applauded for that.  She is a serious talent, and one whose work you should seek out (I know I’m going to be keeping an eye out for her comics and do a little digging to find what she’s done before).  I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

Highest recommendation.

chris

OCTOBER COMICS (2015): From Hell by Moore & Campbell

From Hell, written by Alan Moore, art & lettering by Eddie Campbell.

Warren Ellis called From Hell the best graphic novel ever published.  I think he may be right.  The story of Jack the Ripper as told by these two masters of the medium, From Hell is an incredible read. 

Moore & Campbell’s approach to this story was novel.  Most Ripper yarns start with the perspective that the identity of Jack the Ripper, over a century later, is still unknown and thus, a mystery.  These authors, through their works, treat the material as a whodunit, working to enhance the suspense of their narratives by keeping the face of the killer in the dark, teasing out the clues that ultimately reveal the truth of who was behind the ghastly murders haunting Victorian London in that year of 1888.  Moore & Campbell, on the other hand, chose not to keep the Ripper’s identity a secret, instead following Jack (Sir William Gull, royal physician to Queen Victoria) on his rapid descent into horror and debasement.  As Moore stated in interviews, From Hell is a “wha’happen” rather than the typical “whodunit,” and this elevates it above most Ripper fiction. 

Although a fiction—and both Moore and Campbell have stated they do not necessarily hold that Dr. Gull was indeed Jack the Ripper—From Hell is incredibly well researched.  Copious notes can be found at the end of the book, explicating scenes and offering theories that have been put forth by other Ripperologists, and the narrative connections that Moore threads within this horror enrich and enliven the story, even as the facts may turn your stomach.  From Hell is a wildly ambitious narrative that expands across the whole of London—incorporating the freemasons, the architecture of Nicholas Hawksmoor, John Merrick, the Elephant Man, the royal machinations of Queen Victoria and her family, the inspectors of Scotland Yard, and the dregs of humanity left to founder by an uncaring aristocracy in the East End of London—while also keeping it personal by revealing the narrative through the eyes of its characters, including Mary Kelly, Inspector Abberline, and Sir William Gull. 

Of course, as engaging and complex as the story is, it benefits greatly from the masterful artwork of Eddie Campbell.  The frenetic, scratchiness of his linework and heavy use of blacks add so much to the reading experience.  This London is dark, is dirty, is a place where one can see how a serial killer could make his way easily through the blackened night and get away with these horrors.  I cannot imagine this book being drawn by anyone else.  The cartooning adds so much to the feeling of the narrative while also drawing readers in with its more naturalistic and less rigid line.  If you’re looking for a great book to read on these dark, October nights that will chill your heart and tingle your spine, this is the one book you need. 

chris

OCTOBER COMICS (2015): Batman & Dracula: Red Rain

Written by Dough Moench, art by Kelley Jones & Malcolm Jones, III, with colors by Les Dorscheid and letters from Todd Klein

Another Batman Elseworlds tale, but with his affinity for the night, Batman lends himself well to these October Comics. 

In an alternate world, vampires are real, and Dracula has amassed a large enough horde of vampires to his side that he is ready to take over the world, starting with Gotham City.  But Batman is on the case.  At first, he does not realize the victims, whose throats have been slashed, were attacked by vampires.  Digging deeper into the commonality behind those left for dead on Gotham’s streets, he realizes they are all homeless, leading him to the most destitute part of town where he intrudes on the latest attack.  Hindering the attacker, he trails her through the alleys, only to have her disappear without trace or explanation.  When he returns to the victim, he finds her dead, but with puncture wounds, and realizes what he’s up against. 

  

The understanding that vampires are real also leads to Bruce Wayne coming to grips with how he has been changing.  Concomitant with dreams of a female astral body hovering above his bed, Wayne has become more averse to the daytime while his strength has increased ten-fold.  Eventually, the astral form reveals herself as a vampire who has broken with Dracula, intending to stop his evil before it can spread beyond Gotham, part of her plan being to enlist Batman as a similarly infected “good” vampire, with the speed and strength to battle Dracula on his own terms.  And, in the end, with wings sprouting from his back, Batman is able to do just that.

This was another pairing that just made sense, and Doug Moench’s story works really well.  He paces the comic nicely, revealing answers to the mysteries surrounding Batman and Gotham at opportune moments that add weight and drama to their revelations.  And the ending is quite satisfying, giving us a proper confrontation between these two entities of the night, while never making the outcome seem preordained. 

  

Again, though, the stars of this book are the artists.  Kelley Jones’s elongated, overmasculinized physiques defy reality, which creates a skewed prism through which to view this story.  As insane as his drawings can be, I love, love, love them.  Jones is unapologetic in his hypertrophied characters as they battle in the sewers and the skies of Gotham.  And that damn cape on Batman—it’s longer than the one Berni Wrightson gave the Dark Knight when he visited Swamp Thing back in the seventies, and it’s magnificent.  Great cartooning can infuse images with a story all their own, and when those pictures are played against dialogue and captions, as with the medium of comics, it can elevate a story to something beyond what either medium could accomplish.  Moench & Jones, et al. all bring their A-game to this book, and it is another October Comic that is eerie and creepy while also being fun and adventurous, a perfect alchemical concoction of comic reading enjoyment.  Check it out!

chris

OCTOBER COMICS (2015): Providence #5

Written by Alan Moore, art by Jacen Burrows, colors by Juan Rodriguez, letters from Kurt Hathaway

Alan Moore’s latest series from Avatar, the first handful of issues have been a slow burn, with little development to see, as of yet (of course, once the full twelve issues are complete, I imagine there will be many threads weaving back to these initial installments; so I can’t pass judgment yet).  A deeper exploration of Lovecraft and the themes surrounding his works, there have been hints at what may come, but, as with the plot development, there has been little in the way of horror.  That changed with the latest issue, number five. 

The protagonist, Robert Black, is continuing his travels through New England in search of an idea he can expand into a novel, all the while encountering strange things and people that he manages to explain away, but which those of us reading recognize as Lovecraftian monsters.  Now in Manchester, New Hampshire, Black is hoping to examine the copy of the Kitab mentioned in the Suydam pamphlets in an earlier chapter, which is supposedly held at the library of St. Anselm College.  But the library is closed, as Black arrives, and he must find a place to stay.  Sent to the outskirts of Manchester, Black finds a worn-down house where a single, elderly woman lives.  She agrees to let out an attic room to Black, and things get weird.

The first indication that something strange may happen is when Black is being led up to the attic, and his room.  As he passes a window on the stairwell, the “camera” pulls outside the house, as if something from without were watching and waiting.  It is used again as Black returns back down the staircase, a single, ominous image that tingles at the spine.  Later, Black is aroused from his slumber by the older woman renting him out the room.  She is sitting in the corner of the attic, stark naked, suckling a creature that has the head and upper body of the creepy man who gave Black a ride into town in his oxblood roadster, while the lower half of his body appears to be that of a large rat/human hybrid.  It is unsettling, an intrusion into Black’s private space that would unnerve any of us in the same situation.  He quickly dresses while the woman sits there, calmly suckling this odd monster, and escapes the house (with a now-full moon hovering above the landscape where a crescent earlier resided), only to have the oxblood roadster approach him, the strange man asking if he can take Black anywhere.  Then Black awakes, back in the attic room, but it’s now empty.  Again, he dresses, packs his suitcase, and escapes, fleeing to the home of a medical assistant from St. Anselm who offered a place to stay, if Black found nothing. 

It’s the idea of intrusion upon a place, even a temporary one, where we, if put in Black’s position, might expect a degree of privacy.  Couple this with the matter-of-fact manner with which the old woman speaks with Black, as she suckles the stunted monster on her naked lap, and this entire scene is rife with unease and discomfort.  The mundanity of the situation, as much as anything, sparks this scene with a sense of horror that lingers after you’re done reading.  And I feel like this may be the turning point in the narrative, where things will start to get more unnerving and begin to move forward into darker, uglier realms of the soul. 

chris

OCTOBER COMICS (2015): Gotham by Gaslight

Written by Brian Augustyn, art by Mike Mignola & P. Craig Russel, colors by David Hornung, with letters from John Workman

This was the first, unofficial, Elseworlds tale from DC Comics back in 1989, and it is great. 

As with the vast majority of DC’s Elseworlds tales, Batman is the character of note in this comic.  Set 100 years in the past—1889, at the time of its publication—this comic posits the narrative conceit of what might happen in a Victorian-era Gotham City if Jack the Ripper were to come to these shores and continue his killing ways here in America.  Combine this with the emergence of Batman as a dark force of the night, and you have a cross-pollinated story ripe for the telling. 

Brian Augustyn, known mainly as an editor for DC, does a fine job with the story.  It may be obvious to many, early in the story, who the actual Ripper is, but that does not take away from the finely structured tale he crafted.  All the pieces fit, and fit well, with characters we know, such as Bruce Wayne and James Gordon, acting in a familiar manner, even in this different milieu.  And the confluence of Batman’s appearance with the horrors perpetrated by the Ripper, in the dark, works nicely and makes sense.  The end comes as a bit of an anticlimax—the Ripper revealed by Batman, he confesses everything to Gordon, apparently so scared and scarred by this Batman  that he must confess it all—but that’s a minor quibble. 

  

If the story is good, though, the real stars of the book are the artists.  Sure, everyone remembers that Mike Mignola drew this, but many may have forgotten the inks were by P. Craig Russell (who also worked with Mignola on one of my favorite DC mini-series of the eighties, the Phantom Stranger).  Mignola’s distinct linework evokes the Victorian time period beautifully, while Russell’s delicate inks add yet another layer to these images.  Gotham City feels cluttered, dirty, a claustrophobic urban setting that will only grow larger and more congested over the next century.  And the costume design for Batman is iconic and appropriate to the time period.  This really is a beautiful comic wherein style matches setting and theme masterfully. 

Check it out!

chris 

OCTOBER COMICS

It may be cliché, but this time of year, especially here in New England, evokes a feeling of unease that is exciting.  We all like to be scared or disturbed by our fictions, to a certain degree and when the mood is right.  It’s thrilling, gets our blood racing, makes us feel alive while reaffirming that life.  It’s a combination of things, no doubt, that can elicit this mood in October—the creeping darkness that sends us into our homes far earlier than we’ve come to enjoy during the summer months, rising winds that rattle tree branches and send dried leaves skittering down the road like a pack of rats threatening to overrun us, the chill air forcing us to pull our jackets tighter to keep out the cold that will soon lay trees bare and send snow our way.

And of course, there’s All Hallow’s Eve. 

I love fall in Maine.  The leaves change color, the days aren’t as warm, and winter is coming.  Yeah, I’m that guy.  I also love pulling out some appropriate comics for the season and reading them, as well, and a few years back I did some capsule reviews for some of these under the heading of “October Comics.”  Those books, which I would highly recommend, were:

• Starchild by James Owen
  
• Frankenstein by Steve Niles & Scott Morse  
• The Universal Monster adaptations by Art Adams, Denis Beauvais, and others  
• Coraline by Neil Gaiman, adapted by P. Craig Russell  
• The Broadcast by Eric Hobbs & Noel Tuazon  
• Batman: LOTDK Halloween specials by Jeph Loeb & Tim Sale  
• Taboo, a horror anthology from Spiderbaby Grafix (Stephen Bissette) 
• Hellboy by Mike Mignola, et al.  
• A Glimpse of Crime & Terror by Steve Niles & Scott Morse 

I plan on adding more entries to this list in the coming weeks.  Hopefully you’ll join me on a reading of some cool, moody comics.  And add your own favorite titles in the comments, if you like.  I’m always looking for something new to read.

Thanks,

chris

W27 replay: OCTOBER COMICS 3 (Universal Monsters, Frankenstein, and Starchild)

Three years ago, I did a short series here called "October Comics."  Like the over-arching title states, these were comics I felt epitomized this time of year - with the leaves turning color and falling, the temperature becoming colder, the nights longer.  It's a great time of year to curl up with a good book (or comic, as the case may be) and let that autumnal mood take you away on dark flights of fantasy and horror.  Here are a few books that can take you there.

UNIVERSAL MONSTERS by Art Adams, Denis Beauvais, and others

The Universal Monster films hold a dear place in many people’s hearts. They’re fun and, as a boy, were great for a scare when I watched them on television late at night. So, when Dark Horse published comic adaptations of some of these classic films back in the early 90s, I was onboard.

It’s been a number of years since I read them, but I remember enjoying these books immensely. The adaptations were very true to the movies from which they derived, and, as it is when we see Iron Man or Batman on the silver screen, it was a thrill to have these stories in a new medium for which I have such passion.

Dark Horse did a stellar job of pulling together creators for these books. Art Adams and Tony Harris are the obvious “name” stars to have contributed to this short series. Adams’s meticulous linework in the “Creature from the Black Lagoon” and his notable detail offer a fully-realized and icky swamp for this creature to reside in. Conversely, Harris’s more flowing ink style fit well with the fraying wraps of the mummy, bringing this encumbered figure to vivid, haunting life.

However, despite the involvement of Harris and Adams on this project, I was more anxious for the Frankenstein adaptation from Denis Beauvais. I was familiar with Beauvais’s painting from Dark Horse’s Aliens books. And he did not disappoint. His use of color and ability to evoke atmosphere through his painting fit this book perfectly. Easily, this is my favorite of the bunch.

And finally, Dracula was brought to life by Dan Vado, “supreme commander” of Slave Labor Graphics, and J.D. Smith, who works primarily as a colorist in the comics field today. Like Frankenstein, these two were able to imbue their adaptation with the atmosphere evoked in the film.The soft linework of Smith worked well in this respect.

Are these books scary? No. Are the original films considered scary by today’s standards? No. But these books are fun, and, if you enjoyed the Universal Monster films when you were younger, reading one of these will touch that nostalgic part of you that is also what keeps us reading comics.And that, to me, seems fitting.

LITTLE BOOK OF HORROR - FRANKENSTEIN by Steve Niles & Scott Morse

A few years back, Steve Niles started a series of “Little Books of Horror” through IDW. They were slim, 48-page adaptations of classic horror stories. Niles wrote the adaptations with a number of distinct artists providing illustrations. Ted McKeever provided art for “The War of the Worlds,” Richard Sala did so for “Dracula,” and Scott Morse drew the single volume I own, “Frankenstein.”

I re-read this book just the other night, and, although it was a quick read, I enjoyed it thoroughly.Niles manages to encapsulate the entirety of Shelley’s novel with an economical use of prose. True to the source material, he includes bits that are often overlooked in other adaptations, and I applaud him for this.

It is a great challenge to boil down a novel to a few hundred words, and yet, Niles manages to do just that. Obviously, readers do not get the nuance and more fully-realized narrative that can be found in Shelley’s novel through this 48-page graphic novel. But, if one is already familiar with the book, a faithful adaptation such as this ignites the memory of the original’s reading. And, if one has not read Frankenstein before, this is a great introduction to a classic of literature that could, very easily, spur one on to go and read the original.

The big draw for this book, though, is the lush painting of Scott Morse. He provides richly imagined pieces, full of color and design and symbolism, and adds so much to Niles’s adaptation. Between readings of this book, I have often pulled it from my shelf and slowly leafed through it, studying the artistry of Morse. Somehow, his animation style fused with his sense of color manages to evoke the very genuine emotions that are to be found in the source material.

And it is a very distinct book that feels and reads like little else in comics – or prose, for that matter.This is mainly why I appreciate Scott Morse’s work so much. He – like Paul Pope or Kate Beaton or James Owen – prefer to carve out their own niche in this medium doing challenging work that stands out among the soulless “house styles” found in many of the “mainstream” comics on stands today (not that this is unique to current comics). If you love great art and can appreciate the skill necessary to create such a faithful adaptation in so few words, then this is a book you should seek out.

And if you do choose to read this book in a dimly lit room as the moon falls behind the swaying trees outside your window, you just might hear the monster crying off in the distance, and you may need to pull another blanket up close to your chin, just to keep the cold away.

STARCHILD by James A. Owen

James Owen’s Starchild series was one of those books that would rise to the top of my “to-read” pile when it was being published regularly back in the early 90s. I love that book and have read it a number of times through the years.

Not a horror book – as most of my other “October comics” offerings have been – it is a book perfectly suited to reading during this time of year when the days get shorter and the air becomes cooler. This was pointed out to me by my friend from the CGS forums, Adam Murdough, and when he shared this insight, I knew instantly he was correct.

The tale of the Higgins family, the bulk of Starchild is set in the timeless village of Fool’s Hollow near a magical forest. Hearkening back to our romanticized versions of ancient English villages, this is a tale wherein mythical characters like Titania live alongside caricatures of some of my favorite fantasists such as Neil Gaiman and Alan Moore. It’s a masterful blending of myriad times and settings that Owen manages to pull off with intelligence while never forgetting to tell an entertaining story.

Owen both writes and draws these tales, and his art meshes wonderfully with the writing. Owen’s delicate lines and slightly rough style are reminiscent of old woodcuts, evoking through his artwork the atmosphere of such a tale. One can almost hear the wind whistling across the glens as the pages turn. Drawn in a different style, or by a different artist, I don’t think Starchild would evoke such wonder as it does.

Within the pages of Starchild, one encounters mystery, high drama, and familial secrets tempered by the whimsy and lyrical comedy of characters such as Old Tom and Martin Humble, and simmering beneath it all is the magic of stories, the kind that ignited our imaginations as children.

If you love fantasy and appreciate the mood found in that hour right before midnight in the early autumn, then this is a book for you. Definitely worth seeking out, Starchild is best read on the porch at dusk, with a steaming mug of cider close by.

Go ahead, listen to the crisp leaves beneath your feet, the cool breeze rising to a soft shriek at your back, and watch for those long shadows growing deeper, with the coming of winter just over the horizon, and try to tamp down that shiver rushing up your spine as you spy something in the corner of your eye ... and turn to find nothing there. 

Then sit down to read these comics and try to tell me you don't get that same feeling of anxiety and anticipation as the words and images wash over you.  You can't.  

-chris

What It Is - week ending 26 October [2014]

With apologies to Dave the Thune.

WRITING:
Every day.  1000 words.  That's the goal.

The train kept rolling this week as I added to the novel in progress.  Passed 160 manuscript pages and 44,000 words, which is good.  But I hit a snag in the middle of this week.  I sat down to write my thousand, and it was a chore.  I would type something, sit back and stare at it, work it over in my mind, delete and retype it in a slightly different manner, sit back, stare, delete, skim the internet, skim the internet some more, come back to the writing, type something, finally move on, then sit, stare, and try to get my mind focused.
But it was not working.  So, after an hour, I closed the laptop with only 450 words down.

Now, all this focus on word counts may seem, to some, as if I am focused on the wrong thing.  Why should I worry about the number of words I got down?  Shouldn't I be thinking more carefully about the words I'm choosing?  Isn't that the more important thing rather than just looking at the total (quantity vs. quality, and all that).  And the answer is yes and no - with an emphasis toward "no."

Every writer whom I admire has stated numerous times that if one wants to be a writer, one must write.  Not think about it.  Not read up on the subject.  Not philosophize and market test ideas.  Write.  It's the only way to learn, because if you haven't actually written anything, well, you haven't written anything.  Now, is the word count the final goal?  No.  But, I can assure you, when I was only writing intermittently, there was little growth in what I was producing.  Since I've been writing regularly (and keeping track with my spreadsheet has been the best thing for me - a quick, visual check on whether I am keeping up my end of the bargain that keeps me honest), though, I know I've grown quite a bit.  Actually doing the writing comes more easily, connections within the narrative (whether to points earlier in the story or through metaphors) reveal themselves to me, and I approach my writing differently now, working to make them more effective dramatically rather than crafting a dot-to-dot series of events.

And, when I have trouble "getting the words out," I realize that something is not working.  It's a gut feeling, but one I recognize now, and it makes step back and re-assess the point I'm working on.  Which is what happened the night I slogged through getting down those 450 words.  Something was off in what I was trying to do.  So I went to bed, pouring over what I'd read and what I wanted from this scene, and by morning I had it figured out and was able to write 1400 words that pushed the narrative forward a bit more (rather than stagnating it with "spinning wheels," as I think was happening the night before).  It would be nice if my gut would pinpoint what's going wrong in the writing, but at least I'm learning to understand what that feeling means and work to adjust what's going on the page.

That - learning how I need to write - is the best thing that has come from writing consistently, with a daily goal in mind.  And, no, the goal doesn't need to be a word count, it can be a set amount of time, or some other goal.  As long as it's a regular thing and you approach it honestly, then it will be something that will help you improve your writing.

WHAT I'M READING:
In comics, horror may be the most difficult genre to do.  There's no music, no dripping blood (i.e. being able to watch the blood fall to the floor), no movement (as in film) allowing us to watch the monster slink out of the shadows behind our protagonist, none of those tools are available to the comic artist.  So achieving that gut-twisting punch of horror is an almost impossible task.  Which means many horror comics turn to gore and grossness, in order to shock their readers with how far over the line they are willing to go with their grotesqueries.  And, I suppose, that's one approach.

Thankfully, Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez, choose the higher road.  I finished volume 5 this week, but am thinking specifically of a scene from volume 1 that just froze me, when I turned the page.

*** SPOILERS ***  SPOILERS *** SPOILERS *** SPOILERS *** SPOILERS ***

Bode, the youngest Locke child, has been talking to the woman in the wellhouse, at the point I'm discussing.  And we know that the woman in the well is evil, wants to hurt the Locke family, but is trapped in the well (may even be an immaterial ghost or spirit).  And, to this point, Bode has gone down to the well to speak with the woman a few times.  It's become relatively common, and the readers have come to expect how these discussions go.  Add to this the fact that Hill & Rodriguez have crafted believable and very sympathetic characters in the Locke family, and the scene is ripe for a big shock.  Which we get with a page-turn late in that first volume when Bode turns away from the well to answer his sister (iirc) that he'll be right up to the house - as it is late - and behind Bode, in this large panel, we see the woman from the well creeping out of the well, arm outstretched, reaching for the young boy.  It gave me chills.  This was brilliantly executed, from the set up, to the characters we care about, and the large panel on a page-turn that changes the entire status quo - so good.  If you haven't read Locke & Key yet, do yourself a favor and check it out.

Also finished the screenplay for Harlan Ellison's Cutter's World (I read his teleplay of the same idea last week).  Through the first 100 pages, it stayed very close to the teleplay, which was disappointing.  But then, once Cutter and his son arrive on the alien world, things changed.  Ellison didn't excise anything, instead, he chose to enhance these scenes, and it worked wonderfully.  He managed to share more of the alien civilization while also ratcheting up the drama and the emotional connections with the characters, by dropping in scenes here and there, expanding others, and rearranging still others, with additional antagonists that also made the final part of the narrative feel more natural and not as familiar as it did in the teleplay.

As an example:  In the teleplay, when Cutter and his son sit down to eat, after making their way to Deke's on this new world, Cutter and a Kyban (Ellison's go-to aliens) coincidentally reach for the final piece of meat on the platter between them, a fight ensues, but in the end they become uneasy allies because of a connection Cutter had made previously.
In the screenplay, the Kyban across from Cutter deliberately reaches for the meat at the same time as Cutter to goad him into fighting, and the "friendly" Kyban is alerted by Deke (the connection Cutter made) to intercede, without others realizing, and he pushes aside the antagonistic Kyban, feigning cultural offense at Cutter's insolence, and the same fight ensues but with a far different, and more interesting, reason behind it.  Things like this really made reading these two screenplays not only interesting but also a good lesson for approaching my own writing.

MISCELLANY:
World Series time!  I don't have cable, so this is about the only time I get to watch baseball on TV, since Major League Baseball doesn't seem like they want to try and encourage a new, younger generation of fans.  Ah, well.  Just means I can focus more on my writing at night.

The first two games weren't what I expected.  Even though the Giants won 7-1 in game 1, it felt like the Royals were just on the cusp of breaking through against Madison Bumgarner.  I'm hoping they are able to do that when they meet Bumgarner again.
I'm an American League guy, plus I love the way the Royals play the game - running, good defense, productive hitting even when they make outs - so I was happy they won game 2.  Admittedly, I didn't see the blowout coming.  with 5 innings in the books, it felt like Peavy was just getting stronger, making pitches he wanted to make and forcing the Royals to chase those out of the strike zone for outs.  I wasn't feeling good about an AL win, but they came through against the bullpen and meant I'd get at least one extra game out of my baseball viewing this year.
Game 3 - this is what I was looking for.  Pitchers' duel.  Great defense on both sides.  And scoring a run with two productive outs, as the Royals did in that first inning.  Sure, the general audience loves the home runs and the scoring, but give me a low-scoring, well played game any day. It's far more exciting than a home run derby blowout.
But damn...game 4 just turned the momentum back to the West Coast.  Let's see if the Royals can pull this out.

OCTOBER COMICS REWIND:
Three years ago, I did a short series here called "October Comics."  Nine posts about comics that would be perfect to read this time of year - they either had a horror element to them, or a dark fantasy element, or were specifically Halloween themed.  It was fun, and I figured I should dust them off and share them with anyone checking the blog this year.  The first two repeats (with three books each) are below this post - the final one goes live Wednesday.  But here are links to all nine individual posts, if you like.

A Glimpse of Crime & Terror by Steve Niles and Scott Morse
Hellboy by Mike Mignola, et al.
Taboo from Spiderbaby Grafix (Stephen Bissette)
Batman: LOTDK Halloween Specials by Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale
The Broadcast by Eric Hobbs and Noel Tuazon
Coraline adapted by P. Craig Russell from the novel by Neil Gaiman
the Universal Monsters adaptations by Art Adams and others
Little Book of Horror: Frankenstein by Steven Niles and Scott Morse
Starchild by James A. Owen

SIGN OFF:
All right.  Two for two, which leads to the fact that I pushed out my 42nd and 43rd submissions of the year this past week.  I believe that puts me one ahead for my goal of 52 submissions this year.  Each year I've increased the number of submissions, which means next year, I'm going to need to really up my game - and get some more stories ready for submission - so that I can continue that trend.

'Til next week.

chris

W27 replay: OCTOBER COMICS 2 (Batman LOTDK, The Broadcast, & Coraline)

Three years ago, I did a short series here called "October Comics."  Like the over-arching title states, these were comics I felt epitomized this time of year - with the leaves turning color and falling, the temperature becoming colder, the nights longer.  It's a great time of year to curl up with a good book (or comic, as the case may be) and let that autumnal mood take you away on dark flights of fantasy and horror.  Here are a few books that can take you there.

BATMAN: LOTDK HALLOWEEN SPECIALS by Jeph Loeb & Tim Sale

I’m not sure why I picked up the very first LOTDK Halloween special. I know it had nothing to do with the creative team – neither Jeph Loeb nor Tim Sale was familiar to me at the time. It could have been the nice shiny cover, with that gold foil “enhancement,” but I like to think that wasn’t the case.More likely, it had to do with the fact that it was prestige format. When a publisher – most often DC comics – published a book in that squarebound format (see: Dark Knight, Longbow Hunters, Hawkworld, Killing Joke, etc.), it piqued my interest. So I bought that first special right off the shelf.And I loved it. The story moved along at a brisk pace, the artwork was stylish but appealing, and it was done in one.

With the success of that first Halloween special, it became an annual tradition for the next two years, with Loeb and Sale reuniting to tell other ethereal tales from Batman’s history. They too were immensely enjoyable and just plain fun reads. And, with each successive volume, I came to appreciate more and more the artistic talent of Tim Sale.

Sale’s linework is smooth and organic, with fluid inking that helps to suggest movement on the page in a similar manner to the inking style of Will Eisner. It’s a tough thing to accomplish in a static medium such as comics, and is a major reason why I have such trouble with many of today’s photorealistic artists – their work is just too precise, taking all of the energy out of their drawing.

Loeb’s writing has received a lot of criticism in recent years – not all of it undeserved – but in these specials, he really shines. The stories move along at a brisk pace and don’t collapse under the weight of a longer narrative. With the limited page count, Loeb was forced to pare things down and get right to the heart of the matter, and, similar to Chuck Dixon, Loeb can drive a plot forward pretty well. It doesn’t hurt that he was paired with a stellar talent like Sale.

I regularly return to these books, pulling them out of the longboxes to re-read every couple of years, usually during this season. These books help remind me why I love comics. If you’ve never given them a try, you should seek them out. You won’t be disappointed.

And, if you have the chance, read them late in the evening while the wind sweeps across your lawn – the creaking branches and rustling leaves will add to the atmosphere already present in Sale’s moody linework, and you might understand better why I cherish these stories.

THE BROADCAST by Eric Hobbs & Noel Tuazon

Since “discovering” Noel Tuazon’s work on Elk’s Run, with writer Joshua Hale Fialkov, I have become a huge fan of Tuazon’s work. His loose lines and cartoonist’s approach to drawing is far more appealing to me than the current flavor of the month at the “Big Two.” He, like many of the comic artists whose work I admire, is able to infuse his pages with more emotion and atmosphere than most artists working in the field.

So, when I passed the NBM table at last year’s Small Press Expo and saw they had only one copy left of Tuazon’s most recent book, The Broadcast (written by Eric Hobbs), I had to pick it up. And was I ever glad I did. This book, along with Tuazon’s return collaboration with Fialkov, Tumor, has solidly put him on my “guaranteed winner” list.

The Broadcast, Eric Hobbs’s first major graphic novel, comes from a brilliantly simple concept – how might a small group of rural Americans in early 20^th century America react if they believed Orson Welles’s “War of the Worlds” broadcast was real – a reality that earned Welles much criticism after that initial radio broadcast. I haven’t read The Broadcast since that first time last year, but the emotion of the book has lingered with me since then, rearing its head at unexpected times, so it is only appropriate that I write about it now, as best I can.

The Broadcast is more than just how people might react to a perceived Martian attack. It is really a story of how people under stress react to, and treat, one another and the hierarchy that quickly evolves in such an anxious time. This book is about these characters, about the injustices, perceived or otherwise, they manage to suppress until such a time as this, and the consequences of allowing one’s anxiety to dictate one’s actions.

None of the characters make it through this book in one piece, whether emotionally or physically, and Hobbs deftly handles the issues of that period – including most prominently the racism that was rampant, and is still a problem now, in our country. The Broadcast is, at times, a harrowing reading experience, but it is also touching in many instances. It’s a delicate balance of emotions that Hobbs and Tuazon manage to achieve wonderfully, and it elevates this book beyond what could easily have been a one-note story.

And the artwork from Tuazon is beautiful. His inkwash technique, coupled with Tuazon’s facility with facial expressions, perfectly evokes the atmosphere of the dreary, rain-soaked setting and the weight of finality under which these characters rest. Tuazon’s storytelling is on full display here, and any artist looking to break into comics would be hard pressed to do better than study The Broadcast, or any of Tuazon’s other work.

Although told in a quiet manner, this is a brutal book about the dark places of the human soul. It is a compelling read that shines a hard light onto the horrors of fear, very real horrors that feel more authentic than most of those found in graphic fiction, or fiction of any kind. Hobbs and Tuazon come together to showcase the best of what this medium has to offer, and I heartily recommend you seeking this book out. You won’t be disappointed.

CORALINE adapted by P. Craig Russell, from the novel by Neil Gaiman

I am a huge fan of Neil Gaiman and have read all of his published books. Coraline was an enjoyable read, but I would probably put it toward the lower end of my favorites by Gaiman. It was inventive and well-written, as I have come to expect from Gaiman, and he took me to another fantastic world that feels just beyond my reach, but there was a “weight” missing from it that probably has a lot to do with its intended audience. Ultimately, for me, Coraline wasn’t creepy enough.

As an aside, Gaiman’s “Graveyard Book” does carry that weight I so look forward to from his best fiction, and that was also intended for young adults, for what it is worth. (And it is only my opinion)

When I heard P. Craig Russell was going to be adapting Coraline into graphic form, I was intrigued but not overly excited. Boy, was I wrong to have that reaction!

Russell’s adaptation of Coraline was amazing. When I read it, I was thoroughly on edge. Something about actually seeing Coraline’s “other family” with those button eyes just creeped me the hell out more than Gaiman’s actual prose description, which is odd since Joe Hill’s similar description of the main ghost in his novel Heart-Shaped Box made me horribly uncomfortable when I read that.

Russell is known for his delicate linework, and he does not disappoint here. But I have to admit at how surprised I was with the manner in which he evoked the atmosphere of this eerie little novel. It is a testament to his artistry that he elevates Gaiman’s prose narrative to another level for me. This is one of the very few times I have thought that an adaptation of a work of prose was better – or worked better – than the source material.

I wish I could more precisely put my finger on what it is about Russell’s Coraline adaptation that makes it so much creepier for me. But, I admit, I can’t. I just know how I reacted to it when I read it – on an entirely emotional level that left me with that gnawing ache in the pit of my stomach. Check it out.

Go ahead, listen to the crisp leaves beneath your feet, the cool breeze rising to a soft shriek at your back, and watch for those long shadows growing deeper, with the coming of winter just over the horizon, and try to tamp down that shiver rushing up your spine as you spy something in the corner of your eye ... and turn to find nothing there. 

Then sit down to read these comics and try to tell me you don't get that same feeling of anxiety and anticipation as the words and images wash over you.  You can't.  

-chris

W27 replay: OCTOBER COMICS 1 (Crime & Terror, Hellboy, Taboo)

Three years ago, I did a short series here called "October Comics."  Like the over-arching title states, these were comics I felt epitomized this time of year - with the leaves turning color and falling, the temperature becoming colder, the nights longer.  It's a great time of year to curl up with a good book (or comic, as the case may be) and let that autumnal mood take you away on dark flights of fantasy and horror.  Here are a few books that can take you there.

A GLIMPSE OF CRIME & TERROR by Steve Niles & Scott Morse

It’s October, which means I have an obligation (self-made though it may be) to recommend some cool “autumnal” comic fare (i.e. horror comics in honor of Halloween)

Anything Scott Morse is involved with gets my attention. He is one of those cartoonists – like Los Bros Hernandez or Frank Santoro – whose work I will buy without hesitation. Since he landed at Pixar, his comics work has been rather limited. So, when I read online about him and Steve Nilesdoing something together, I was interested.

The series – co-created and co-owned by Niles and Morse – is called Crime & Terror. Morse described the book on his blog as a book where he and Steve can create the stories they want. In his initial post, Morse wrote that Crime & Terror would have an over-arching narrative following detective Mike Fallon, along with a number of short stories – both prose and comic – in whatever genre they chose – sci-fi, horror, noir, whatever. I’m a sucker for great anthologies, and when you have creators of this caliber writing and drawing whatever they want – I’m in!

As a teaser, Niles and Morse have created a limited edition oversized board book of A Glimpse of Crime & Terror that includes two short stories. I read this a couple of weeks back and thoroughly enjoyed it. Morse’s artwork and storytelling are spot-on here, and the stories were novel for the fact that they weren’t what I was expecting.

I expected a crime story and a horror story, but instead, Morse and Niles offer a mash-up of these two genres, and it works amazingly well. The plots hearken back to noir films of the 50s – with the requisite sprinkling of the fantastic and zombified accents. They aren’t necessarily world-shattering.But the beauty of this book is in the way the stories are told. Despite the “dark” nature of these two genres, there’s a fun aspect to this book that is never missing in anything Scott Morse does. I imagine it has a lot to do with the animation style Morse incorporates. His work is distinct, and, despite the “cute” aspects of his art, Morse continues to exhibit a range in genre and tone that is remarkable.

And, if you order this limited preview, each copy will be signed by Morse. So get on it.

The regular book will be a series of 80-page hardcovers, and I cannot wait for the first one to drop.Be on the lookout, because these are going to be some fun, entertaining, and well done comics.

HELLBOY by Mike Mignola, et al.

This time of year I always dig into my longboxes or go to my shelf for something appropriate to the season. Recently, I’ve been re-reading some of the early Hellboy collections by Mike Mignola – Wake the Devil and Chained Coffin & Others, to be precise.

It’s been a while since I’ve read any Hellboy, and I had forgotten how great this series is. Mignola really seems to be having fun with these stories. He packs so much action, fantasy, folklore, and fun into these tales that it really is a wonder to behold. Even through pages of talking heads and exposition, Mignola makes it interesting – whether it’s the cadence of a character’s speech or just the fanciful nature of the dialogue – and I find it completely engaging.

Even with the emphasis on plot and the fantastical elements of these narratives, Mignola doesn’t forget about the characters. He knows Hellboy and Abe and Liz and all the others, and he plays them off each other well. It would be easy for the story to trump the characterization, but Mignola manages to balance things and has me wondering where he went with all of these great characters.

And has an artist ever been more suited for the stories being told? The way Mignola paints his blacks (with apologies to the Rolling Stones) and the manner in which he delineates the ancient architecture all adds to the atmosphere of these tales. The imagery has a gothic feel to it that is perfectly suited to the narratives, along with being pitch-perfect for this world Mignola has created.

If you want something haunting and exciting for this autumnal season, you would have trouble doing any better than Mike Mignola’s Hellboy. After re-reading these older books, I am now going to seek out the later volumes to see where he has taken “the big red guy” and the rest of the BPRD, and I cannot wait.

TABOO from Steve Bissette and  host of creators

It is appropriate that October be the month of Halloween, especially here in New England with darkness creeping in at the frayed edges of these shorter days, the naked branches scratching against window panes as brittle leaves blow past, propelled by a chill wind heralding the coming winter. The brisk air is tinged with a scent of horror – something almost tangible – that insinuates itself into our minds as we try to reconcile the change in the seasons.

Stephen Bissette’s horror anthology, Taboo (published from 1988-1995), masterfully captures the atmosphere of this time of year. With contributions from such notable writers and artists as Dave Sim, Charles Burns, Tom Sniegoski, Charles Vess, Bernie Mireault, Keith Giffen, Chester Brown, Eddie Campbell, Moebius, Melinda Gebbie, Neil Gaiman, Michael Zulli, Alan Moore, and Bissette himself, every issue of this series reaches for – and often achieves – an incredibly high standard of graphic storytelling.

From Hell and Lost Girls both had their starts in this anthology. Readers also experienced the fleeting glimpse of Gaiman & Zulli’s Sweeney Todd (with the prologue found in issue 7), which never found another publisher once Taboo ceased publication. Spain Rodriguez’s succinct retelling of Alejandro Jodorowsky’s cult film classic El Topo can be found within the pages of this book. (issue 4, to be exact). And there is any other number of horror masterpieces to be found within various issues of this landmark series.

The offerings in Taboo are not what one would describe as typical horror comics. These stories are disturbing, uncomfortable, demanding pieces of art. They are the horrors that keep one up at night, staring into the blackness to identify the sound that startled you awake. These stories are creepy, and the slimy film of the narratives is hard to wash off, staying with you long after the book is closed.

If you’re a fan of “shock” horror and want to be scared – Taboo might not be the book for you. But if you like your fiction challenging, if you want to read stories that make you think, and if you appreciate that anxious flutter in the pit of your stomach when the clock strikes midnight, then you should be seeking these books out because they are becoming harder and harder to find.

The stories found in this seminal anthology are a fitting capstone to a crisp, cool October day.

Go ahead, listen to the crisp leaves beneath your feet, the cool breeze rising to a soft shriek at your back, and watch for those long shadows growing deeper, with the coming of winter just over the horizon, and try to tamp down that shiver rushing up your spine as you spy something in the corner of your eye ... and turn to find nothing there. 

Then sit down to read these comics and try to tell me you don't get that same feeling of anxiety and anticipation as the words and images wash over you.  You can't.  

-chris