A Beautiful Face

Art by Sandra Singh

This is the face of an upcoming story in 2012:  Sarah, a PS-6, or "Pleasure-Simulator, 6th generation."  Pleasure-simulator is simply a fancy term for android prostitute.  But Sarah's story unfolds in the mega-city of Jasper--one of the few cities remaining in existence in the (former) United States.  Specifically in the territory of California.  The year is 2092.

FULLY FUNCTIONAL gets fully drawn!

This weekend was spectacular:  I unveiled new artwork on my deviantArt page.  A perfect illustration based on a poem I wrote called "Fully Functional," which is from my chapbook ROBOTS DANCING.  The chapbook itself follows a few characters living in a speculative future, in a mega-city called Jasper--located in the north Californian territory. 

The artist for "Fully Functional" is Sandra Singh, or *so-berauscht on deviant, a wonderful young lady from Germany was so awesome as to do a free, 1-page illustration for my work!

I saw the final product--a low-res proof--on Friday afternoon via email link.  And I was really glad she was HOURS ahead of me on the globe.  That way I didn't have to wait long for the full file...

The work is so beautiful, it should be a cover.  :)

Check out my deviantArt profile for the poem and art together!

LOVE SICK: Update

I'm close to tying off two issues, combining poetry--from the chapbook after which this project is named--and straight prose with dialogue.  It's something I haven't tried before, and I'm well satisfied with the story thus far.  Something about demons and humans.  More than something, I should say.  The artist has given me some pretty awesome character sketches.  He's almost done with the full cast, too.  

Writing a story or drawing or painting or building is exciting--and the process of my own craft I do cherish overall.  I am impatient, nonetheless.  I'm always looking for results.  The push and pull of creativity can be such a pain in the ass.  Part of me wants it to end soon, it's so painful.  The other half needs this--this outlet, this catharsis, this flow of thoughts and ideas.  A deluge that, when flowing in the right way, feels perfect.  

I've noticed a few themes, too:  old women, folk tales, devil-demons, magic, and dystopic futures.

There are writers who write crime fiction, horror, and romance.  That's their love and shtick.

Maybe I should get used to it.  Having an ingrained passion for fantasy.

Inspiration #1

I've been a long-time fan of BLADE RUNNER, so I thought it fitting that I use the name, "Damask Rose," after the song by Vangelis.

DAMASK ROSE: Page 5/Splash Page

I love full-page panels.  They're always good for introducing a strong character.  Case in point:

Art by Axel Medellin.

She (Panya) literally has strong legs.  And if anyone has a problem with strippers, or a stripping belly dancer, then look away.  (I ain't got time for prudes or pricks).  But for the brave, this page was a happy accident.  DAMASK ROSE, originally, was to be 8 pages when Richard (writer-creator of ELEPHANTMEN, and my editor) suggested that panel 1 of page 5 be a splash page.  I readily agreed.  Panya hanging upside down by the sheer force of her thighs should be a 1-page wonder.  And I'm very happy with the effect--I freaking love Panya's nails.

New Story: DAMASK ROSE

Damask Rose is a 9-page story I wrote for Richard Starkings' ELEPHANTMEN. To appear in an August/September issue, #34 (published by Image). This is an autobiographical biography of Panya--Sahara's body double and Casbah Joe's star belly dancer.

Cover art of Panya and Casbah Joe by Axel Medellin

SDCC 2011: Sexy Beast

Oh, yeah.  That's right--

   In 2010, Joshua Dysart* called me a "Beast."  I just added the former.

      Here's my hierarchy of AWESOMENESS.

 

Photo by Richard Starkings, Writer/Creator of ELEPHANTMEN

     

Panya from ELEPHANTMEN - Inspired by Yrs Trly - Art by Boo Cook

Me in 2007 - Saucy Minx - Photo by Martin Eng

*Writer - UNKNOWN SOLDIER

SDCC 2011: Lights, Camera, Don't Pay Attention!

Looks like I don't have any trousers on my bam-bam.  This is Saturday's show at the convention.  I asked Justin to do a cover sketch for my latest project, "Love Sick."  Which he so very nicely obliged to do.  Pia gets cozy with the camera... while I'm just looking confused, Ian says something, and Justin does a profiled, blinky half-smile.

Left to Right:  Me (Writer - DEVIL), Justin Norman/Moritat (Artist - ELEPHANTMEN, THE SPIRIT), Pia Guerra (Artist - Y THE LAST MAN), Ian Boothby (Writer - SIMPSONS & FUTURAMA Comics)

Sunday at the con.  Gabe and I chat it up with some lovely ladies.  I even got do do some pencil work, and Gabe inked... at my insistence, because I'm utter crap at inking my own work!  Hopefully, I'll get better at it though.

Me and gabo (Gabriel Bautista - Artist & Colorist for ELEPHANTMEN)

New Page: Script

This section is mostly comic scripts—some excerpts, some comic strips.  I hope to add more as I continue to explore the field of scriptwriting.  It’s a beast onto itself.  Not like poetry or prose.  (And, of course, the format for scripts is different than either; in comics, especially, there is no “standard”).  I’m looking forward to the process.  Currently, I’m translating my chapbook, “LOVE SICK BLOOD MOAN,” into a graphic novel.  I have ten of fifty poems thus far.  With each poem, comes a script. 

I think I found an artist, too.

*Smiling.*

San Diego Comic-Con (or BUST???)

It's officially going to happen in 7 days.  My mom and I will be driving down from Northern California to get to San Diego on the Tuesday prior.  And I'm not sure, really, what to feel.  

I'm going not only as an attendee, but as a published comic writer.  Wednesday is when "Elephantmen" #33 is released in stores; "Devil" in the back pages waiting to be read or glossed over.

In 2010, the Wednesday "Preview Night" barely registered for me.  I walked a mile from the Waterfront Holiday Inn to the convention center; had nothing to eat and was stricken with a nasty bout of hypoglycemia; I hadn't slept well the night before either (I think I was packing).  I received my exhibitor's badge and SDCC goodies, found my editor's booth, said "Hello" and "Goodbye."  And found some food, of course.

This time, I certainly won't be milling over Wednesday, July 20th.  I really hope to remember the date.

Getting Anxious

For some poetry, that is.

It's been awhile since I've written in stanzas.

I shared a few pieces with the boyfriend, who called me "skilled."  He said, "Because I don't believe in talent.  A skill is something you actually work for."

And I liked that.

"You have a unique voice," he added.

And I liked that, too.

...

Passenger

The heat gets to me always. 

I’m traveling to and from on the No. 40 Bus—

back home and to work—and to back again. 

Sticky salt lick backs and asses stuck

to molded plastic seats made in interesting blue. 

Blue patented by the Bus Company. 

Blue like acid sunrise—and the engine breaks. 

Aluminum frames rattle and passengers

refuse to look through.  Nothing interesting

about routine:  only wise to just get through the day. 

I clutch my purse between my knees,

a cool touch—not long enough—and breathe. 

The engine breaks again; I touch shoulders forcibly

with a mid-aged man, suited to his starched collar neck,

red noose in a Winsor knot. 

He’s too ashamed to take his jacket off,

his polyester blend pants fucking my thigh. 

I remove my purse to my lap. 

He wipes wet hands on his sleeves, like an extra skin

that shines.  The engine breaks again;

I’m pushed against fiberglass and more plastic. 

The Suit looks at me apologetically

before getting off.  Never mind straightening

my skirt.  I won’t be seeing him again.

Poem added to "Love Sick Blood Moan"

A Story Secret in Brief

The secret formula to writing is the formation of an idea coupled by an obstacle.  With the obstacle comes a goal.  And more conflict:  heroine versus villain, two people who want the same thing and fight for it.  And more conflict.  Because the heroine isn’t perfect.  There’s a moment when “all is lost,” and the villain might have won. 

Then—

Add some basic human characteristic.  Love, anger, fear, or happiness.  Make the odds against the heroine at the right moment, and make the effect for better or for worse, and give a good reason for the story to end.  Whether it’s for better or for worse.  

Make all so unbelievable, the reader has no other choice but to believe.

And have faith regardless. 

Milestone: “Devil/Don’t be Teased”

On July 1^st, my story went pre-production—an 8-page trailer to grace the back pages of “Elephantmen” (Image Comics).  My editor, Richard Starkings, and his graphic designer, John Roshell (self-proclaimed “Snake Oil” and also nicknamed “JG”) kept me wrung to my computer in the morning and early afternoon.  I hadn’t slept well due to a sinus headache.  To stay awake, I lulled my head forward, holding my laptop like a drunken parent corralling a child.  Staring into white and blue Yahoo! email inbox.  Squinting at too small Times New Roman font.  Wanting to die already.  Because I already believed everything would be perfect.— 

But it wasn’t ALL perfect. I’d say 80-percent was pretty damn good for a team effort though.  Nonetheless, the cover logo was off:  a midsize typeface in red with black horizontal striations and yellow “shadow” text.  Each letter with nicely pointed tips.  Nice, but plain.  A story called “Devil” needs some extravagance.

So, I wrote back, “Looking for more circus type font… or Vaudevillian.”  Since “Devil” is set during the American Great Depression.  I needed to feel something vintage—like penny candy or Madeleine Vionnet.

And JG came through indeed.  Three choices, each individually unique.  Each, therefore, providing a different way to introduce a story.  The first—elongated and refined—reminded me of how I imagined Coney Island and high strikers, the brawn man ad and his silly curved mustache.  The second being something like a “Saloon” sign in bold.  The third told me, “There’s a sucker born every minute,” in stocky type and curls, the Barnum & Bailey mold.  Everything I ever hoped for and I had to choose.  Mind racing between one and three.

So, I picked Coney Island.  Something less recognizable (perhaps), but no less what I needed. 

Next was “The Beginning.”  The Epilogue that capped the imagery in poem form—two and three lines per stanza.  The story of “Devil” really hadn’t ended.  However, the layout proved rather tricky.  In large text appeared one particular line across the page:  “The Devil don’t be teased.”  All remaining lines were placed in two columns.  I read column left first, column right second.  Assuming “The Devil don’t…” was merely an artistic tick that stuck out from column left. 

But, alas, I was wrong.

I read my own work out of order.  The first four stanzas topping “The Devil” phrase were supposed to read together in their two rows provided.  The other 19 stanzas below came in final order, read in columns left to right, of course. 

I laughed at myself, being so slow to realize.  Confessing to JG my confusion.  JG replied, “That’ll teach me to be clever.”  And an appropriate fix was made.  (Hopefully).

With my mind ablaze fretting over details, I forgot about being tired.  Richard laughed warmly when he called to follow up with an email I can’t remember answering:  Did you stay up all night?!?!?

Thank God I didn’t.

DEVIL: Sample

DEVIL: Cover

Back Flip Cover for ELEPHANTMEN #33 (Image Comics) - Art & Coloring - Oliver Dominguez; Lettering - Richard Starkings; Snake Oil (Graphic Design) - John Roshell

Working

Writing is tough.  I don't have to say much in that subject.  But it's what I do.  While listening to "Toddlers & Tiaras" (something my mom likes to watch, and pretend to be surprised as to the type of children being bred into the world, when I just find it—annoying).  I write standing up or lying down.  I write sitting close Lotus style with bad posture, hunched over my laptop like a Gollum for hours.  I don't recommend it.  The bad posture, that is.

Currently, my schedule has been rather pissy, deciphering my brain, chugging out minor details of a potential story, the characters, and why... or coming to nothing at all.  Nothing but frustrations and disappointment.  Confusion even.  Staring into a florescent screen while the dog tries to lick my skanky toes.  While triggering a near-blown freak out because I have a mouth-on-foot phobia.  I work 4 to 6 hours a day and feel lazy; if it's 6 to 8, I'm doing OK; 8 to 10, I could be doing more; and 10 to hereafter, I'm doing superb.

I recommend, nonetheless, writing to anyone who has the inclination and the guts.  No matter the imperfections or lack of grammar or chance of writer’s block.  Those can be remedied with fostering skill, and with a point of being persistent.

…

Meanwhile, curb self-criticism as much as possible.  Experiences are meant for learning from.