Tagged: editorial

MIKE GOLD: The Only Thing To Fear Is…

I just read the penultimate issue of Marvel’s Fear Itself miniseries. This means that next month, April, should maybe possibly mark the end of their big 2011 crossover event, also titled Fear Itself. It started a year ago. Longer, if you add the event implants.

The Fear Itself storyline has several epilogues – the Shattered Heroes books, sundry miniseries as well as this particular 12 part miniseries. It ends next month, right in time for the Avengers vs. X-Men event. In total, if you wanted to read the whole thing, you’d be reading something in the neighborhood of 135 separate comic book issues.

All this leaves me with one question: does anybody give a damn?

Like the overwhelming majority of big event crossover series, Fear Itself was pretty lightweight. Yeah, yeah, death, resurrection, worlds shattered, nothing will ever be the same again, and Ben Ulrich updates his résumé. Blah blah blah. If you haven’t read any of this and you are undaunted after considering this task, let me make two suggestions.

One: You do not pile all these books up on your lap. Particularly the hardcover editions. They will crush you, physically and spiritually.

Two: You might want to consider reading the Esperanto edition of James Joyce’s Ulysses instead. You only have so much time in life; go for the gusto.

O.K. I’ve been railing against endless phony dull event stunts for over a decade, but even if Fear Itself was among the best, it went on far too long. We have entered the era of the never-ending event, where one seamlessly segues into the next. Not only are these stories trivial and redundant (Norman Osborn’s back? Really? Next you’ll tell me they didn’t kill off Captain America or the Human Torch!), they no longer deserve the honorific “story.” A story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. A story has at least one climax, and a payoff that justifies your participation. These are qualities that are now lacking in mainstream event comics.

More fool I. As I’ve stated, I’ve been bitching about this for a long time. Yet most of these never-ending tales start off quite well and I get sucked in. Probably the best part of DC’s New 52 is that it wipes out or ignores most of their previous events. Probably the worst part of DC’s New 52 is that, eventually, they’ll do their own big event series – undoubtedly under the pretense of explaining everything that they “decided” not to explain in the individual 52 titles.

If history is any guide, in this they will fail miserably. I’m not knocking the abilities of the writers, artists, editors and editorial directors involved: the odds are overwhelmingly against them. It’s like writing a completely original episode of The Simpsons: after 500+ episodes, good luck with that. However, I am knocking the abilities of the publishers and the marketing executives who take such a short-term view of their bottom line.

I’ve said it before, and unfortunately I’ll have to say it again: What do you say, guys? Let’s try going back to simply producing great stories! You know, it just might work!

THURSDAY: Dennis O’Neil

 

MARTHA THOMASES: Doonesbury, Courage, and Limbaugh

This week, the nation’s pundits have focused on a controversy on the comics page. Garry Trudeau’s long-running strip, Doonesbury, has a storyline about a woman in Texas seeking an abortion after the passage of the state’s invasive and insulting new laws. A number of newspapers have declined to run the strip because of the subject matter and the language. A number of others decided to run the strip on their op-ed page rather than the comics pages.

You can find a decent sampling of editorial responses to the controversy here.

Since he started the strip for his college paper in the late 1960s, Trudeau has followed a group of characters, students at Walden College, their extended families and their friends. By 1970, it was a sensation, syndicated in newspapers around the country. From the beginning, it reveled in political arguments, whether among Trudeau’s characters or real political figures, including then-president Richard Nixon.

The Watergate scandal was the first political firestorm I remember being covered in the strips. They were fabulous. So fabulous, in fact, that he won a Pulitzer prize for them in 1974.

Over the years, a number of newspapers decided to move Doonesbury to their editorial pages. I’ve always thought it was a cowardly move, but then, I think most newspaper strips have some political content. It may not be as overt as Trudeau’s, but it’s there. Beetle Bailey? Political. Cathy? Political (which is why so many men hated it so much). Prince Valiant? More political now than at any time I can remember.

Still, there is a long tradition of editorial cartooning in this country, much of it exuberantly partisan and foul-mouthed. Most of them are single gag panels, with only a few extending to three or more. None of them include recurring fictional characters, nor do they have anything approaching a storyline. Doonesbury doesn’t really fit in that environment.

I was especially struck by the waffling tone of the Star-Telegram, a Fort Worth newspaper. To me, the key quote is this:  “On Wednesday we published an editorial taking to task radio talk show host Rush Limbaugh for his crass language about Sandra Fluke, the Georgetown law student who testified before Congress about health insurance coverage for contraceptives. Trudeau’s language, accompanied by graphic images, is equally crude.”

Except Trudeau was using the language of Limbaugh, and the Texas legislature. He was commenting on a discussion that was already in the marketplace of ideas. He didn’t make up new words to enflame the situation; he commented. And although it’s only Tuesday as I write this, I have seen no particularly graphic images in the strip.

I suppose there’s an argument to be made that children might see these strips on the comics page and ask their parents about abortion. I’d be more persuaded if one could find any actual children reading any actual newspapers.

Meanwhile, I look forward to Trudeau’s strips about this proposed law, which I hope passes with as much ease as those that apply to women.

SATURDAY: Marc Alan Fishman

 

MARTHA THOMASES: Death Cab For Batman?

Over the last two weeks I’ve taken more taxis than I did in all of 2010. I hate taking cabs. They’re expensive, and it frustrates me to sit in traffic watching the meter click. It makes me feel like Geraldine Chaplin in Welcome to L.A. I much prefer the subway, smells and all, because it’s cheap and fast.

I took the expensive cabs because I needed them. If we didn’t need the cabs, we would have been quite content to walk or take mass transit. The person with whom I was traveling couldn’t walk to a bus stop much less climb the stairs to the subway, and it was imperative that we get where we were going. Luckily, I can afford to do this when necessary.

What does this have to do with comic books?

DC Comics recently announced a price hike on some of their books. Naturally, customers aren’t happy about this. No one wants to spend more money if they don’t have to.

You know what? You don’t have to.

It’s possible to lead a productive and satisfying life without reading Batman comics the week they hit the stands. Or so I’ve been told. Billions of people do it. Some of these people will read the stories later, paying for them in a back-issue bin, or a trade paperback collection, or online when the price goes down. Most of the people on this planet will never read them.

It’s a choice.

I don’t know what financial pressures are behind DC’s decision to raise those prices. It could be motivated by editorial considerations. Maybe retailers told the publisher they needed a higher cover price to make a profit. Maybe Diamond needs the profit. Maybe DC does.

I’ve read on some bulletin boards that some customers feel this is stupid, that DC is taking that extra dollar from customers who will therefore have a dollar less to spend on other titles. This presumes that there are only so many dollars available, because there are only so many customers. Maybe that’s true in some markets, but, nationally, there are all those millions of people who haven’t yet bought a Batman comic. I would guess that those people would prefer to pay $2.99 instead of $3.99, but that as long as it’s under $5, it’s not that noticeable.

If you can’t afford to buy a comic the day it comes out, don’t buy it that day. Take a deep breath. Wait a week.

It’s okay. Stories keep.

Save your money for when you need that taxi.

SATURDAY: Will Marc Alan Fishman Take Up The Michael Davis Challenge?

 

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MIKE GOLD: R-E-S-P-E-C-T

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Like most popular culture websites, we noted the passing last week of Jerry Robinson. Ours had a bit of a personal touch at the end; that’s what makes ComicMix ComicMix. While I was writing the piece I heard the announcement of Jerry’s death on CBS radio. While I was impressed, I wasn’t surprised: the major comics icons get noticed these days, and Jerry certainly was, and is, a comics icon. But such wasn’t always the case.

I first saw a major to-do about the passing of a comics great when ABC-TV noted Jack Kirby’s death back in 1994. For several years prior to that the passing of an occasional comic book creator was noted in the local obituaries but significant folks like Bill Finger didn’t get national play. We weren’t important enough. We were still part of the throwaway culture; adults who read comics were considered morons. Or professionals… but only after Fredric Wertham was toast.

Kirby not only made the network news, he was chosen “Man of the Week” or whatever the segment was called at the time. That meant two things: ABC-TV already had footage of Jack in their library (a bigger deal at the time as teevee networks were only beginning to digitize their files), and the comics medium had finally earned enough respect for producers to deem one of our greatest creators as worthy of such an honor.

From that point, respect for the comics medium continued to grow. Batman instigator Bob Kane received his due and then some, Will Eisner’s passing was well-noted… to name but two. In my eyes, more than all the reviews from the intelligencia, more than all the decent comics-based movies, the national coverage of the passing of our greatest has given validation to the art form.

I read five newspapers every day, one of them a national paper, one the local Norwalk Connecticut paper. Each of these five covered Jerry’s passing. Each and every one. All but one gave the story coverage with a photo and/or art.

A few days after publishing their obit, the New York Daily News did an editorial (above). Okay, Jerry’s Sunday newspaper strip was run in that paper for several years – but that was many decades ago, and if you read their editorial they play up Robinson’s comic book work. He may have created The Joker, but he did not create The Batman. Bill Finger and that other guy did that.

That’s pretty cool. Jerry most certainly deserves the additional recognition, and so does the comic art medium.

And we deserve it, in part, due to Jerry’s contributions to our craft.

THURSDAY: Dennis O’Neil

MARC ALAN FISHMAN: What I’m NOT Thankful For

I hope everyone’s Thanksgiving holiday was amazing. I myself hosted festivities for the first time in our new home. It was here, in 2011 where Marc Alan Fishman finally graduated from the kiddie table. Looks like all it took was making a meal for 10 people, in my own home. But with the assistance of my fantastic in-laws, and even more fantastic(ly pregnant) wife… we done pulled off a doosy. After last week’s lov-in, I unbuckled my belt, let my gut out, and took stock in those things that didn’t quite make me a happy camper. Sure, my initial articles covered some of those (The X-Men, Barry Allen, and Hal Jordon to name a few)… but here we are, nearing the end of the year. What exactly happened that cause my beard to stand on end? Let the hatespew begin!

Epic Events of Extremely Excessive Inanity

To be truly fair, I could spend the entirely of this editorial tearing DC and Marvel both for their predilection to create crappy crossover events. But let’s boil it down to the brass tacks, shall we? Simply put, these money-sucking whores create bloated wastes of ink and paper, all based on the idea that “everything you know will change.” This of course, preys on our fan-boy fear of being left behind. And it would seem over the course of the Aughts, such as they were, the Big Two have perfected their scheme:

Create a main book where all the bullet point action takes place. A few not so significant people will die. One or two major ones might kick it too. A great evil rises up. It looks insurmountable. Then a legion of the most marketable heroes get some brilliant form of upgrade, or a lost and forgotten hero comes back from the dead, or some other deus ex machina reveals itself in the nick of time for one last issue of double page Photoshopped explosions. What follows is generally seven to twenty seven epilogues setting up the next six months of editorial mandated character changes.

But it’s never just that one main title now, is it? These mega-loads of mega-suck bleed into the entire continuity of issues. Soon every book you’d normally pick up features the event-du-jour’s nom de plum across its masthead. What follows is generally exposition taken from bullet point A before bullet point B from the main series. Not reading that series? Well, I guess it sucks to be you. I was loving, L-O-V-I-N-G Matt Fraction’s Incredible Iron Man series until Fear Itself. And for four issues straight, all the world building he’d done was cast aside so I could follow Tony into Asgard to get drunk, swear, and make some action-figure-waiting-to-happen weapon variants for random heroes to use. Did I follow Fear Itself? No. Thanks for wasting my time, money, and love of the Iron Man book.

Don’t think for a second DC skates by here either, kiddos. Those cash-craving carnivores did one worse; they let the deus ex machina implode their entire line of comics. Flashpoint, by and large, will sit in my collection next to Countdown to Final Crisis as a testament to everything wrong with comic books today. “But why did you keep buying them, if you hated them so much?” Well… One – I’m a masochist. Two – the series promised to feature at least one or two characters I’d normally not get to read about. Three; – I didn’t want to come out of the other side confused as to why everything changed. Flashpoint even had the nerve to release wave after wave of mini-series to take us around this “Age of Not Quite Apocalypse.” And while Batman: Knight of Vengeance delivered an amazing Elseworlds tale, it was just that… An Elseworlds tale. Slap any title card you wanted on the cover, Dan, Geoff, and Jim. We all knew it should have said “Flash Point Over There and Distract The Fanboys While We Hit The Reset Button.”

4/5ths of the DCNu

And since we’re on the subject… the next thing that ground my gears was the rebooting of the DC Universe itself. I give credit where credit is due. It was a bold move that in fact did raise awareness, sales, and general levels of hope amongst the comic book readers of the world. But by and large, it was all smoke pellets and Mirror Masters.

Let’s face facts. Superman, Wonder Woman, the JLA, and Aquaman all got the reboots needed to make them matter again. Batman and Green Lantern may have gotten shiny new #1s on their books, but didn’t reboot a damned thing. Batgirl got to disappoint the handicapped community (not that the book is bad mind you, but still…), and a plethora of bad ideas were hurled out with hopes any of it would stick. What we’re left with is a mangled mess of a few fantastic books littered amongst total garbage. All the solid character-building moments that gave DC a strong legacy and continuity were thrown out with the bath water in hopes that a #1 and a power-cycle would somehow make comic books appeal to the masses who aren’t reading comic books. Guess what? Sales may have increased, but not by that much. Walk out on the street today, and ask a passer-by who OMAC, Voodoo, or Captain Atom are. Don’t be surprised when they need to Google it.

It’s still too early to say exactly what impact this reboot is going to make. Suffice to say, I hardly believe I’ll be telling my son “Oh yeah, in 2011, it all changed. DC created the new paradigm by which all comic books were created.” More likely? “Oh yeah, in 2011 DC rebooted everything, because they figured they’d move more issues if they had #1 on them. Superman turned out really good. I kind of forgot everything else.”

The Fallacy of Death in Comics

If 2011 has taught us nothing else, then we should all learn this: Death is meaningless in comic books. In the long-long ago, in a time and place far far away from here… dying meant dying. No mysterious body swaps. No time-bullets. No psuedo-science backtracking. Dead meant dead. In 2011, Marvel iced the Human Torch, Bucky Barnes (again…), and Thor (again, again). Human Torch didn’t even stay chilled long enough to be missed. With Fantastic Four #600, his mighty resurrection (as predicted by just about everyone) came to pass. In Fear Itself, Bucky and Thor each bit the dust. Who here is man enough to say they’ll stay that way for 365 days? With The Avengers movie hitting megaplexes next summer, I doubt Mr. Odinson will be resting for even a fortnight. Oh, and it looks like the Phoenix force is coming back too. As it stands, I can’t even tell you for sure who is alive and who isn’t. Only Ultimate Peter Parker seems to be the most likely candidate for a spot next to Gwen Stacy of the 616 in the land of the “neva’ coming back.” And thanks largely to Flashpoint, DC was able to kill off whole portions of their catalog, with the promise to thaw them out the second sales dip. Did someone say JSA?

Goodbye 2011. May 2012 boast less deaths and less events. See you next week, when my column resets back to #1.

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

DENNIS O’NEIL: Writers vs Editors… Forever

So there I was, sitting at my desk, surrounded by the detritus of the editorial life, not being productive, listening to the voices coming from across the hall: a fellow editor and a freelance writer engaged in something about half way between discussion and argument.

Editor: It’s not the kind of thing we publish.

Writer: But it’s what I want to write!

But we don’t do stuff like that.

But it’s what I want to write!

Another volley of buts, both articulated and implicit, and the meeting ended with the writer still needing to find a way to pay his bills.

I was an editor for more than two decades; you know whom I sided with.

But…what was with the writer, anyhow? Was this an instance of an ego bloating up and strangling its host? Or – and here we enter The Region of Psychological Murk – was the writer subconsciously sabotaging himself so he wouldn’t have to face the possibility of failure?

Or did he have something?

I mean, the writers (and artists) are the creative ones, right? Shouldn’t they be allowed to go where their instincts take them, tugging readers, publishers and those rat bastards known as editors along behind them?

In a word: no. But this is a qualified no.

Begin with the implicit contract between publication and consumer. People have a right to the kind of entertainment (or information) they’ve paid for. Fail to provide it and they’ll fail to continue buying your product.

Now, the qualification on the previous but: What was stated in the preceding paragraph is not an insistence on storytellers repeating the old, shabby tropes, month after month, year after year until the sun cools. If they do, they’ll lose their audience as surely as if they weren’t delivering what the audience is paying for. The material has to be either current or somehow timeless and current is a lot easier. If it isn’t, the audience won’t be able to identify with it and they probably won’t be interested for long. Things change – things must change. (Sorry, you anti-Darwinists, it’s that kind of universe.)

I’m not advocating change for its own sake; that might be another form of ego-bloat. No, I’m saying that an altered world – altered technology, altered mores, altered institutions – suggests new kinds of storytelling that can be achieved without violating the premises of character or genre. Or writers might try delving into what already exists – finding elements already in the material that have been ignored and using it for the sort of story fodder that readers will find fresh and entertaining while, again, preserving character and genre. Or a writer might involve his fiction in subject matter that is new to it, but – yes, again – doesn’t wreck what the reader already likes.

Does all this squash self-expression? Not a bit of it. A long time ago, Raymond Chandler said that the trick to writing genre fiction was to give the reader what the reader wants while getting what the writer wants in, too. Chandler himself proved that it can be done.

RECOMMENDED READING: Ego: The Fall of the Twin Towers and the Rise of an Enlightened Humanity, by Peter Baumann and Michael W. Taft. This splendid little book delivers exactly what the title advertises.

FRIDAY: Martha Thomases

DENNIS O’NEIL: The End Of Unending Stories?

“You can’t go back home” Thomas Wolfe wrote in a novel and I cry, amen. When I return to visit relatives in Missouri, I find the city I left almost 50 years ago strange and, in places, unrecognizable – alien, even. And last week I visited DC Comics, my employer and sustainer for decades, and found it much changed, beginning with the entrance to the building and the security forces guarding the lobby. I was told that if I wanted to see the floor that once housed Mad Magazine, I’d better hurry because it was being gutted, and the corridors leading to where I had to be were cluttered with cardboard boxes.

Maybe the whole experience was just a little forlorn?

But after a long and pleasant conversation with Dan DiDio, who honchos the company’s editorial department, I thought that perhaps the company is, in a modest, limited, yet quite good way going home again and we funny book aficionados will benefit.

The home that’s DC’s destination? Why, old comics. I mean, really old. Really old. Your grandpa’s comics, published before Marvel made continued stories the norm in the 60s. Stories of six, eight ten, maybe 12 pages, complete in one issue. (And a bunch of them in the – sigh – 52 page total package. Which cost a dime.)

An eight page story? A story even shorter than eight pages? Bizarre, you say?

No, not bizarre, Maybe even beneficial. Indulge me while I quote something I wrote a while back: Every story has to end with a lesson learned, an evil thwarted, a problem solved, a defeat, a triumph – some kind of resolution. The events of the story show how that resolution occurs. And if the writer doesn’t know how his story will end he can’t create a logical progression of scenes leading to that ending…writing an eight-pager forces the writer to know his ending before he submits the manuscript. (Except in rare cases, the beginning and end are in the same sheaf of pages, or email.)

So, knowing what his destination is, the writer can move toward it confidently instead of – brace for metaphors! – stumbling around the narrative thickets hoping to find a path. And limited length forces the writer to write only those scenes that move the plot along and this, in turn, tends to keep the story interesting: no pointless digressions to create ennui and yawns.

So: DC Comics is going to give us a glut of short fiction? No, of course not. But Dan told me that most story arcs would be limited to six issues – not exactly haiku territory, but not a completely open-ended narrative that will meander into the murk until somebody figures out how it might end, either. And writers must tell someone – probably an editor – something about the tale that’s to be told. Again, no making it up as you go along, with no clear plan on how the pieces will fit together.

Usually, I question looking to the past for answers. But every so often, answers might be found there. Don’t try to go home again, not permanently. But a now-and-then visit? To capture a bounty?

Recommended Reading: Pretty obvious, isn’t it? I should be recommending You Can’t Go Home Again, by Thomas Wolfe. But in the interest of keeping myself honest, or at least honestish, I try to read before I recommend, and if I’ve ever read Wolfe’s novel, it was long, long ago and I have no memory of it. So instead of recommending a book, let me recommend the author’s hometown. Last year, Mari and I toured Wolfe’s boyhood home in Asheville, S.C. while visiting Mars Hill College and found the house interesting, the school welcoming, and the city delightful.

DENNIS O’NEIL: The Original Reboot

All hands brace for a confession….Yeah, you got me. I admit that all the noise surrounding DC Comics’ reboot or relaunch or reinvention…whatever you call it, all the dust raised by this activity has caused me the occasional twinge. I worked in the comics trenches for a lot of years and some of it I still miss. Not all, oh no, but – sitting with bright, talented, convivial people in a room and doping out stories to tell…that was one of life’s joys and I’m guessing that the stalwarts at DC have spent a lot of time recently doing just that.

But they aren’t the first to redact the company’s pantheon of superheroes. Way back before you were born – most of you, anyway – Julius Schwartz did pretty much the same thing. The year was 1956 (I told you that you weren’t born yet) and comics, and their primary contribution to pop culture, superheroes – they’d been sickly for about a decade, ever since some politicians, editorial writers and assorted busybodies had convinced a lot of citizens that comics were spawns of evil. (To be fair, changing publishing and retail realities had something to do with comics’ decline, too.) As Julie told me the story: he and his fellow editors were having a meeting and someone decided to revive The Flash, a once-popular character that hadn’t been seen for years. Julie’s words as I remember them: They all looked at me and I said, I guess I’m it.

They did, and he was. He didn’t merely produce a carbon copy of the original Flash, though. With writer Robert Kanigher  and artists Carmine Infantino & Joe Kubert, Julie gave the world a new Flash – new costume, new origin, new identity. He left the original concept intact – the world’s fastest human – and altered everything else to make The Flash and his world reflect this, the world we non-fictional beings in habit. Julie and his merry men taught those of us who followed them how to do it: leave whatever made the character popular and unique alone, and modernize the rest.

There was no particular fuss over Julie’s work, back in 1956. For him, it was just another day at the office. The network of fan publications was at best just a’borning, as were conventions, and websites, like this one, weren’t even science fiction because, as far as I know, nobody had even thought of them. Sure, some dedicated readers may have reacted, but the world at large…yawn. And that may have been where Julie had an advantage over his editorial descendants.

Imagine doing this complex task with hordes of the curious looking over your shoulder, waiting to see if you fail, some of them, human nature being what it is, maybe hoping you’ll fail. And of course, regardless of how well you perform, a lot of your audience will find fault because they’ve been establishing an emotional attachment to these characters for years – for decades? – and any significant changes is going to seem…well, dammit, wrong! Pretty daunting, huh?

I haven’t read any of the new stuff yet. Have I just convinced myself that I shouldn’t?

Recommended Reading: The Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare and How It Changed America by David Hajdu

FRIDAY: Martha Thomases

MICHAEL DAVIS: My Secret Origin

Editor’s Note: This originally appeared at www.michaeldavisworld.com on January 28, 2011. It is being reprinted here without permission. It’s been reformatted to meet ComicMix’s high editorial standards.

A long time ago in a galaxy, blah, blah, blah…

…Denys Cowan, Bill Sienkiewicz and I shared a studio next to some creators who are all legends now. It was the second silver age of comics and we were in the thick of it.

Howard Chaykin was doing American Flagg!, Walt Simonson was on Thor, Al Milgrom was doing Spider-Man. Jim Sherman was in the studio but I forgot what he was working on, I do remember it was bad ass.

The studio where all those superstar upstarts were was called Upstart Studio.

Duh.

Also at Upstart was Frank Miller who was doing Daredevil and about to do Ronin. I seldom saw Frank but when I did more often than not he would ask what I was working on and was just a great guy. I remember being a bit jealous when Bill and Frank started working on Elektra and for the life of me I can’t remember why.

All that said, how’s that for a line up?

Those guys (Denys included) sounds like a comic fan’s dream team even now. Speaking of my best friend Denys a few years forward in time from our studios days would see him nominated for an Eisner for best penciler… twice. People forget just how badass Denys Cowan is.

Our studio never got an official name although Bill liked to call it Bill and his little helpers… the bastard.

As far as what we were doing at Bill and his little helpers Studio, Bill was working on Elektra and The New Mutants; Denys was doing The Black Panther for Marvel, V (the comic adaption of the original TV series) and Vigilante for DC.

What was I doing? Nothing great in comics, that’s for sure.

I was working on children books, movie posters, etc. I had one comic book assignment for the Marvel magazine Epic. The assignment was given to me by the late great Archie Goodwin. I made an appointment with Archie hoping for a cover assignment I never dreamt he would give me an interior job.

I loved comics but I was trained as an editorial and mainstream illustrator. I never learned to do comics like, say, a Denys Cowan who can imagine and draw anything from his head. I need reference, I need to look at stuff, and I need dozens of layouts before I start a finished piece. Comics that are fully painted and tell a non-liner story at that time were rare. I was always jealous (still am) of guys that can do that make it up from nothing jazz.

Dwayne McDuffie recently commented on multitalented guys that can write and draw. Truth be told Dwayne, just as a writer, is light years away from where I will ever be as a visual storyteller. That, to me, is multitalented. When Christopher Priest was the editor on the Spider-Man book he once dissected a cover painting I did for him like he was a high school science teacher and I was the frog. He’s also a hell of a writer and just as good a musician. Reggie Hudlin glides between producing and directing movies and TV shows to writing some of the best comics I’ve ever read. Those guys are multitalented.

20 or so years ago, except for Heavy Metal and a few other outlets, painted comics were few and far between. The graphic novel as a fully painted editorial piece of art and content was not quite there yet. It was about to come into its own lead by people like my brother from another mother Bill Sienkiewicz. The work of Kent Williams, George Pratt and Dave McKean was just around the corner as well but not there yet.

Howard Chaykin saw over 20 years ago where comics were going and produced a few painted books before just about anyone did.

Like an asshole, I tried to do comics the way Denys, Walt, Howard and Frank did. I was too stupid to listen to Howard Chaykin when he told me, “Do what you do, the industry is changing and you can bring something new to it.’

Some of the best advice I’ve ever been given. It’s right up there with, put your hands on the wheel and answer in a civil tone of voice, “Yes officer, whatever you say officer.”

I wish I was joking about the cop advice, but I assure you I’m not.

I did not listen to Howard. Years later Mike Gold told me the same thing after I delivered a Wasteland story, which was not my finest hour. I didn’t think he would but Mike gave me another Wasteland story and said, “Do this like any other illustration assignment.” The story was about South Africa and I nailed that mother.

Of all the high profile regular illustrations gigs I was doing (Newsweek, NBC, etc.) the assignment I was the most excited about was Epic. It was a six-page story I was writing and drawing and taking forever to do because I wanted to do it like “regular” comics artists did. Could not do it then, can’t do it now.

Long story short, I will never forget those late night talks with Howard, Bill, Frank, Jim, Al and Denys. It was indeed the second silver age but for me it will always be my golden age.

Bill and his little helpers. Somehow that does not brother me anymore.

Yeah, I know this is pretty damn sappy.

That’s OK. Sap is the new black.

WEDNESDAY: Mike Gold

MIKE GOLD: These Comics Really Suck Because…

Wow. I’m sure gonna piss a lot of my friends off. Please don’t take this personally. It has nothing to do with your skill, your judgment, or your personal predilections. It’s just my opinion, one that is somewhat contradicted (only somewhat) by sales figures. Here it comes, folks.

When it comes to comics, licensed property tie-ins suck.

Okay, this isn’t an across-the-board opinion. There are exceptions. Archie Goodwin and Walter Simonson’s adaptation of Alien comes to mind. That was, let’s see, back in 1979. Remember Sturgeon’s Law? Ninety percent of everything Ted Sturgeon wrote is crap? Or something like that. My rule of thumb regarding entire genres is this: if you’re doing about five points worse than Ted Sturgeon’s Law, you suck.

There are solid reasons behind this blather. First, any group of talented creators – say, roughly, enough to fill Yankee Stadium – would not create what you see in a tie-in comic book if left on their own. Characters, concepts, designs, interrelationships, plots – they all would likely be… original.

Second, the characters, concepts, designs, interrelationships, and plots created for movies or teevee or toys were created for that particular medium. Transferring them to another medium requires sacrificing a degree of nuance that makes the source material unique. The timing of an actor’s performance that is used to establish character does not come across in comics; the artist is likely to get that bit across visually, but in the process he or she is changing the character.

Third, you can’t change the direction of anything. In a medium that for 25 years has been nothing other than constant change, the concepts of the licensed comic book are set in stone. The reader quickly realizes that any original character that might be introduced is likely to be killed off, and killed off in realistic terms – as opposed to the “death is completely meaningless” approach used in comics. Worse still, if the character works the licensor is likely to take it and use it in their own movies, shows, merchandising and whathaveyou – and the comics creators who thunk it all up ain’t gonna see a penny.

Finally, creators work with editors, some of whom are great (hiya, folks!), some less than great, and others couldn’t sort out a pack of Necco wafers if the candy was numbered. Editors work with editorial directors and editors-in-chief and publishers and if they’re any good they fight with the marketing department or at least try to wake them up. But when it comes to licensed properties, you’ve got the owners licensed products people to deal with. Not only do they not know comics, they usually do not know the properties they administrator. Case in point:

The idiot who passed judgment on DC’s Star Trek titles was so bad, if writer Peter David and editor Bob Greenberger flew out to Los Angeles and murdered the son of a bitch, I would have gone to great lengths to establish a solid alibi for them. Probably one involving a Mets game… but I digress. Here’s another.

Writer Joey Cavalieri plotted a Bugs Bunny mini-series that was, in my opinion as editor, as brilliant as it was hilarious. Stunningly brilliant. We sent it to the West Coast for the Warner Bros. studio approval. They hated it so much their Grand Imperial Klingon in charge of toothbrush licenses flew out to New York to cut me a new asshole. Unfortunately for editorial coordinator Terri Cunningham, this nuclear holocaust happened in her office.

The Mistress of All Things Looney started pointing out the good stuff we couldn’t do. Daffy Duck couldn’t issue spittle. Porky Pig couldn’t stutter. Tweety Bird couldn’t be a host on BTV, the all-bird watching network. Foghorn Leghorn couldn’t own a fast-food franchise. Bugs couldn’t be so manipulative. Hello? Anybody home? This is Looney Tunes we’re talking here!

I politely pointed out these were either long established character bits that started in the theaters in 1940 and continued on television to that very day. I said the Tweety and Foghorn bits were satire.

“Looney Tunes are not about satire!,” she screamed.

I saw poor Terri Cunningham in my peripheral vision. She looked like she was desperately trying to gnaw her way out of her own office. I said “Answer me this one question. Have you ever actually seen any of the Looney Tunes cartoons? Ever?” I turned on my heel and walked back to my office.

Here’s the worst part. My story is not in the least bit atypical. Not at all. It’s not even the worst I can tell you.

So when it comes to comic books, there’s a creative challenge to doing licensed properties and I’d take on some of those challengers as long as the licensor knows the property, but personally, I’d rather read something original.

THURSDAY: Dennis O’Neil

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