NaNo on the down low!

A bout with food poisoning, busy work schedule and house (non) sale was enough to keep me occupied last month. On top of that, however, I decided to take ANOTHER crack at NaNoWriMo and the 50,000 word grail. I didn't let anyone know what I was up to this time, because if I missed the mark then only I'd be disappointed. For those not familiar with the game, National Novel Writing Month is just that: Write a novel in 30 days, with 50K being the winning benchmark.

Well, I didn't hit 50K. But early on (or late depending on your perspective) in the process I decided to set a goal for myself. I figured if I could just get halfway, 25K, that would be something. When I pasted my oeuvre in the NaNo validator at 11:45 p.m. last night, it read: 25,119.

Sure there were at least 4 other folks in our OKC circle that went over 50K, but hey, I was happy. An idea for a book finds its way out of my head and into a real manuscript. Not to get too far ahead of myself, it is only a draft, and the finished project will be WAY more than 50,000 words. But it's a start, and that's another of the many NaNoWriMo side-benes.

As a treat, I give you what is now the opening scene in "Deacs."

Deacon Clayton looked out over the ever filling pews.
“Is it me, or this is a lot more folks than usual?” he asked the brothers seated next to him on the raised pulpit in the dusky church. Deacon Morris twisted his lips as he scanned the scene. And Bro. Cherry adjusted his suit coat, looked at Clayton and shrugged.
“I mean don’t get me wrong,” Deacon Clayton chuckled. “I’m glad people came out for a change. But come on, this is …” he laughed again.
Deacon Morris squinted his eyes as he continued his mental count. He started over at least 4 times now.
“Yea,” Deacon Morris cooed in his svelte tenor voice, “I was beginning to think we might actually fill the place today.”
“That’s whaat I’M sayin’,” Clayton replied, rocking forward trying to stifle a laugh. “For a baptism? This is a lot of people! ” he drawled.
Deac Cherry leaned slightly forward. “We must be feeding after!” Then he cackled mischievously.
“Wooo, ha, ha, I was gonna ask the same thing,” Clayton guffawed. He leaned back in his chair and raised his hands in surrender. “But hey, if it briiings New Trinity out, that’ll work.”
Three tall brothers ducked their heads beneath the low balcony overhang at the church’s main entrance, nodded as they took a program from the usher and then strolled down the center aisle. Deacon Morris watched as they glided past one row of pews, then another, and then another. And that’s when it hit him. What had been gnawing at his mind as he’d been counting the people as they came in. He recognized some of the faces. Many he hadn’t seen in church in a long while.
 “Hey,” he cooed again to his fellow deacons, “you guys notice anything strange about the front rows?”
The other two gave him a puzzled look before glancing out. The center aisle split the church in half with each side split again by curved armrests between the long wooden pews covered with fading aquamarine green cushioning. The first row of pews bordering the wide moat like expanse between the pulpit was open, except for a few casually tossed hymnals and bibles and Deaconess Blackstar’s giant white bejeweled hat.
But the next rows right behind were stuffed, on both sides.
“Waait,” Deacon Clayton said as he watched the three tall arrivals squeeze themselves into that the second set of pews. “All the guys…”
“are sitting up FRONT,” Deacon Morris finished with a laugh. “What’s up with that?”
 “Deacs!”
A wiry athletic light skinned man in his 20s bounded up the insteps to the pulpit area. Grinning, he undid his loose fitting navy blue suit coat and slid into a chair next to Deacon Cherry.
“Oh, so you made it ,” Cherry said tersely as he adjusted his cufflinks.
“Aw, I know, pastor already gave me a hard time about being late,” the young man said with a grin.
“Ay, that’s part of your training, Del.” Deacon Clayton offered. “Part of being a deacon.”
“Well shoot, Deacon Sheppard ain’t even here yet!” Delonte retorted.
“And he was supposed to be helping pastor baptize today,” Morris added. He looked over his shoulder with a concerned glance at the waiting baptism pool, bathed in shadow on the left and one steady sunbeam on the right.
“Well, I did my part to help,” Delonte said proudly and leaned back in his chair.
All three of the older deacons fastened their eyes on him.
 Suddenly Bro. Richard was at the piano banging out chords. “Take Me to the Water” slowly engulfed the church. Pastor Peterson smiled and sang as he descended into the pool. His ex-football frame stretched the tight white sweatshirt he wore. Deaconess Blackstar followed; she was wearing a white baptismal robe, no gaudy sweats for her. The annoyed look left her face as she turned back to the steps and extended her hand to beckon the first convert to come down.
A stunningly beautiful woman came into view. The bulky white gown couldn’t hide her ample curves and with each step into the pool the fabric hugged her tighter and become more transparent.
“AAA-men!” Del grunted.
The men in the crowded pews craned their necks nonchalantly as Deaconess Blackstar guided her down the stairs. Then they all, each and every one, leaned forward as if their heads were attached to one string, as the woman settled into the middle of the pool and her robe clung to her stomach just tantalizingly below her bust line.
One of the tall guys managed to avert his eyes long enough to give Delonte an affirming nod, who responded in kind almost imperceptibly. Almost.
The three older deacons were staring at him again.
“OK, to help bring in the crowd I might have mentioned something about thin material…”
Deacon Cherry whipped his head from side to side, trying to speak. Deacon Morris bowed his head and rubbed his eyes, trying to stifle his laughter. Deacon Clayton muttered:
“Son of a b…”

Where you been?

"Eye" can hear you asking that question. Well, it's been one wild winter,  not counting the lack of snow and the 70 degree weather. Lots of changes in my life and I'm trying to keep abreast of it all.

That's one reason I couldn't get the script to work for the next book. I stopped for a while and began working on a short speculative fiction story that I'm looking to submit to an anthology. Maybe time away would free up the log jam.

I guess it worked, though I think I just kept looking at the calendar and realized it was time. I finally was able to wrestle down my thumbnails and have started doing breakdowns for next chapter. Te's going to do the drawing based on those breakdowns, for at least one chapter. I believed this project was more suited to my illustrating style, and more so, my skill level. But I want something a bit more refined for the next installment so I'm changing things up a bit. For instance, I might just ink with a pen and not brush. If I can find the time and the nerve, I'll post some of the preliminary pages. 

On Dwayne McDuffie: What more can I say?

I was so wrapped up in GospelFest, furlough, and kids being on break that I didn't even hear the news. Dwayne McDuffie had died. I wanted to wait to get myself together and post something meaningful. Every thing I want to write seems narcissistic and self-indulgent, like it's all about ME, and what he meant to ME and what I think about him. I know the suddenness of his passing is contributing to it.

But even now I can't find the right words to describe what he was to/for me. Hero. Inspiration. Kindred spirit. All of those, and yet, still seems to not say it enough.

I never met him in person, and we only exchanged a few e-mails, but I felt a strong connection through his work. A connection that ensured me that I could find a place for myself in the world of comics if I choose to work at it and truly seek it out.

Others have already either said, written or drawn more profound things to honor Dwayne. So, I'll let his work speak for itself.
My belated, but heartfelt condolences go out to Mr. McDuffie's wife, family, friends and collaborators.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dwayne_McDuffie

P.S. I know the link is to a Wiki page, but the address to his own site is at the bottom, so you can go there if you want the real...

Politics, politics

Nothing to do with comics, but this is what's wrong with the political discourse in our country. The link to the Politico article it's from should be included. My apologies if you feel there is not enough context.

But Rob Jesmer, executive director of the National Republican Senatorial Committee, said the health care law will be “a very central part” of the GOP’s campaign strategy across the country this year.

“I don’t think there’s any place that it’s going to be helpful to them,” Jesmer said, scoffing at Democrats’ assertion that they will be able to turn the tide of public opinion. “They have been selling this thing for 13 months — all they’ve been doing is selling it.”

He singled out Indiana Rep. Brad Ellsworth, who is running for the Senate, as the Democrat most likely to suffer political damage for supporting the bill. “Brad Ellsworth took the political gun, stuck it in his mouth and pulled the trigger,” Jesmer said.
Read more: http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0310/34834_Page2.html#ixzz0j0SqA8qu

Off page: Soledad visits Vt.

I've been toying with the idea of a second blog to post non-comics related items (primarily sports and politics). Until then, you'll find posts here that are off-topic but hopefully still interesting. And so...

CNN anchor and special correspondent Soledad O’Brien spoke at an MLK event at the University of Vermont on Tuesday. Having just returned from Haiti, much of her talk focused on what's happening there in the wake of the earthquake.

However, she was able to weave that story into King's legacy. She explained that King's key message went beyond just having a dream for equality for blacks. King's message was really justice for all; it was for an individual to look at someone else's circumstances and decide something needs to be done to help, even when there is no direct relationship. O'Brien gave many current examples where we can apply that thinking.

She shared high school drop-out rate statistics for Latinos and African-Americans, saying that 2000 schools produced 85 percent of the country's drop-outs. O'Brien compared that with the growing population of Latinos in the U.S. Does anyone see this as a problem, she wondered. Can anyone else hear the alarm bells going off?

Steps need to be taken immediately to fix public education to stave off an even larger storm. We have a starting point with those 2000 schools, she noted. So what seems like a huge undertaking, could be broken into smaller chunks, starting with 100, then another, then another. A large populace of undereducated Americans -- whatever their race -- is not beneficial to the country's welfare.

The situation is a perfect test subject, if you will, for King's plan. So you're not a person of color and your kids don't go to public school, but by helping them you make your country better. There's no time to wait, echoing one of King's key points "the fierce urgency of now."
And choosing to help will require the "dangerous unselfishness" King spoke of, being able to face uncomfortable situations to reach a collective goal.

O'Brien showed clearly how King's words remain relevant. She reminded the students, faculty, and community members how we have to look beyond the T-shirt ready catch phrases, and get to the meat of what King was trying to accomplish. Haiti is just one example, with its decades of neglect creating a weak infrastructure that lies exposed in the rubble. People need to be able to look beyond their own immediate horizon, to other other countries, cultures, social circles, and to feel it's OK to say "that's not right" and act.

King professed and practiced a servant leadership, one which showed that those "at the top" were willing to sacrifice and do the same as those who were following. They went to jail, he went to jail. They faced persecutions, he was persecuted. He didn't just watch the followers suffer, he suffered, too. Why? Because as a leader he was serving the common goal, not an individual one. There were times in her coverage of Hurricane Katrina, O'Brien said, that made it easy to see when that kind of leadership doesn't happen. She recalled how several times she walked by a dead man covered in a blanket outside the convention center. That's all that could -- or would -- be done for him, cover him up. Where was the empathy? The strong desire to do better by him?

I appreciated O'Brien's frankness, her willingness, even as an impartial reporter, to say this is wrong or this isn't right. I was impressed by her family's fortitude. She shared stories of her sister's struggles against sexism and racism and how it didn't stop from her attaining her educational goals. Of her parents, who had to endure being an illegally married bi-racial couple in Maryland. And yet, they always told their children that it was worth it because "we know America is better than that." Even when they were being spit on, they believed the promise of America was so much bigger. "The way it is is not the way it has to be," O'Brien's parents would tell them. It's the key to their success, she said. It's also a crucial component of King's message.

I couldn't help smiling when O'Brien read some of the not-so-well know portions of King's speeches, which happen to be some of my favorite lines. She was the second person I'd heard recently reminding us to dig deeper into his speeches, his mission, his legacy.
I'm glad I got to hear it.

Captivating Kalas

OK, so this has absolutely nothing to do with my comics, but you all should know by now that I'm a huge Steeler fan in particular, football in general. Hey, I grew up in Western Pa. what would you expect? Harry Kalas' death yesterday hit me differently than it did those generations of Philly fans who listened to him call baseball games. Kalas was the voice of NFL Films for me. He brought a sense of drama and intensity to highlights that just captivates me to this day. Here's a link to a piece from Comcast.net on Kalas and my comment should be there, you might have to scroll down to find it.
If not here's what I wrote:
"I'm sorry that I missed out regularly hearing Harry calling the Phils, because he was/is an integral part of the NFL experience for me. I was checking NFL Films to make sure he did do some of the pieces I remembered -- most notably Super Bowl X. And listening to the excerpts and tribute, I had to say out loud "you know, it just sounds right!" that is Kalas' narration. His voice brought a sense of epic proportion and drama to HIGHLIGHTS that I swear is largely unmatched. Maybe that's overstating it a bit, but I don't need to watch an entire Super Bowl, playoff game or mid-season matchup if I can just listen to Harry tell me how it all went down. Again, hearing him call an entire game must have been sweet."

Marvel stinks or sour grapes?

I'm about ready to "boycott" Marvel. I work in a freaking bookstore and I couldn't get a copy of Spidey/Obama. We kept getting notices from corporate "they say it should be arriving this week..." And as I guessed it never did. However, I go to Mile High Comics and see the first printing issue (shown at right) on sale for $100.
And as for my LCS? I went there and didn't see it either but that was probably because they'd reserved their 10 copies.
Is it because we live in Vermont that we don't seem to be able to get these things? Even B&N was still waiting for the issue as of Wednesday.
How does this distribution thing work? We keep saying floppies are in danger cause graphic novels will all be sold at bookstores, yet nothing is going to the bookstores. Does this start with Marvel doing woefully inadequate print runs on books they know will sell out? And how does it benefit them to have a Spidey book for sale on Ebay at $300?
Things sell out I understand. But how can a book that never made it to store shelves -- at least as far as I can tell here -- sell out? Doesn't seem right.
I know -- life ain't fair.
Thoughts?