A friend recently linked me to Duotrope's Digest, which is an index of writing magazines, what they take, what they pay, and various other information that would be invaluable to freelance writers.
I'm going to start tearing up their horror listings like a chainsaw through coeds.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Note to self: "no cheese"
I think this is from Nevermore. I can picture Poe saying it aloud to someone. Real fatalistic guy, that Poe.
"Life is a maze, full of narrow, dark paths and blind turns and dead ends. You wander aimlessly for a while, just long enough to lose the entrance for good. Then you get smart and start drawing on the labyrinthe walls, little Xs over the ways you've already gone. You're sure that there's cheese in here somewhere, or at least a way out, so you go through all the paths one by one. Each leads to a dead end, but you don't get discouraged. Your feet get tired but you don't stop. You eliminate them one by one, carefully following each to its end before moving on to the next.
A long time goes by and your feet ache with walking. There aren't that many paths left to try, and there's this wriggling thing inside your head, growing like larvae. Doubt. Fear. You meet dead end after dead end. You're getting desperate. You start to run, not even bothering to mark the walls anymore. You know the maze well by now, you can see it in your mind. You know. You know the truth now but you're too afraid to admit it to yourself.
Finally you come to the last passage, the last path you've never tried. You turn the corner with tears in your eyes and your feet going out from under you, and you crumple against the blank wall at its end.
And it's only after all that time, all those wasted years and careful plans that came to nothing, that you realize there is no exit to the maze, and there is no cheese either."
"Life is a maze, full of narrow, dark paths and blind turns and dead ends. You wander aimlessly for a while, just long enough to lose the entrance for good. Then you get smart and start drawing on the labyrinthe walls, little Xs over the ways you've already gone. You're sure that there's cheese in here somewhere, or at least a way out, so you go through all the paths one by one. Each leads to a dead end, but you don't get discouraged. Your feet get tired but you don't stop. You eliminate them one by one, carefully following each to its end before moving on to the next.
A long time goes by and your feet ache with walking. There aren't that many paths left to try, and there's this wriggling thing inside your head, growing like larvae. Doubt. Fear. You meet dead end after dead end. You're getting desperate. You start to run, not even bothering to mark the walls anymore. You know the maze well by now, you can see it in your mind. You know. You know the truth now but you're too afraid to admit it to yourself.
Finally you come to the last passage, the last path you've never tried. You turn the corner with tears in your eyes and your feet going out from under you, and you crumple against the blank wall at its end.
And it's only after all that time, all those wasted years and careful plans that came to nothing, that you realize there is no exit to the maze, and there is no cheese either."
Saturday, February 13, 2010
ATGTSTZA: Chapter 1 posted!
I'm very happy to announce that Chapter 1 of A Teenager's Guide to Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse is now online. I've put it up at SmackJeeves.com, a hosting site for webcomics; it's a fairly basic yet usable site. The only drawbacks I've found to it thus far is the fact that people have to create a SmackJeeves username and profile in order to "Favorite" a comic and be counted as Fans. It'd be nice if folks could do that with an OpenID or just as a Guest. Ah, well, can't have everything. I do like their premade templates especially the Sleep Cable one I selected for ATG. Depending on how well this one goes and the feedback I get, I might use them for other comics in the future.
There does seem to be quite a bit of yaoi over there...
*****
On the subject of webcomics, I've come across Harvey the Gay Android and found it charming. It hasn't been updated recently, but maybe with some encouragement the author will return hir attentions.
There does seem to be quite a bit of yaoi over there...
*****
On the subject of webcomics, I've come across Harvey the Gay Android and found it charming. It hasn't been updated recently, but maybe with some encouragement the author will return hir attentions.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Comics: Batman: Year One (**/****)
Title: Batman: Year One
Writers/Artists: Frank Miller and David Mazzucchelli
Colorist: Richmond Lewis
Letterist: Todd Klein
Editor: Denny O'Neil
Lo, I have tempted the Fates with my defiance. I have reared back and spat mightily into the wind, and the wind did turn a bored, amused glance in my direction, and now I have loogie in my eye.
In other words, yes, I tried to read something else by Frank Miller, and now I do want to punch him in the throat.
Batman: Year One explores the origins of Batman and what compelled a grown man, let alone a pampered billionaire, to put on a bat suit and turn vigilante. The first Chris Nolan film hews pretty closely to this text, down to the cliffhanger at the ending, with the major exclusion of Catwoman. For which I can only be grateful: Nolan has his issues with female characters but at least he didn't turn Catwoman into a dominatrix prostitute.
I find it a very, very sad commentary on the state of our media entertainment that I'm grateful to a director whose female characters were all whimpering mothers, traitors, or strong and dead. Because at least he didn't turn them into whores, too.
Frank Miller has no such hesitations. Every single woman in Batman: Year One is a whore, except for Barbara Gordon, Jim Gordon's pregnant wife whose only action in the story is to make him coffee and be upset by his philandering (but of course stands by her man), and Detective Sarah Essen, Jim Gordon's woman on the side whose only action in the story is to light his cigarettes and be upset when Jim Gordon goes back to his wife. All the other women in the story occupy the East End, which Bruce Wayne contemptuously calls "the worst of it": the establishing panel shows a plethora of XXX theatres, low-grade hotels, and topless bars. Which, really, Frank Miller? That's the "worst of it"? Not where people are being murdered or beaten by cops, but the red light district? Your Puritannical issues with sex, let me show you them.
The women here range from 13-year-old hooker Holly to Selina Kyle pre-Catwoman, who reward Bruce's attempts to rescue them from their cruel pimp by stabbing him in the leg. Which, okay, if some random guy karate-kicked a pimp, perhaps his hookers really would respond by defending their abuser from someone who might turn out to be a worse scumbag. But then Selina gets inspired by Batman's vigilante acts to start her own line of costumed adventures, and punches out their pimp before dragging Holly away from a life of rape and exploitation. Which begs the question, why the hell didn't she do that long ago? It's clear that Selina knows karate and can handle herself, yet for an indeterminate period of time she chose - instead of burglary or hell, even bare-knuckled boxing - to work as a prostitute and allow Holly to do the same.
Because in Frank Miller's universe, women are just naturally whores.
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH.
Okay. Setting his monstrous issues with women aside - Bruce Wayne is somewhat less psychotic in Year One than he is in The Dark Knight Returns. In fact, he's almost human as he stumbles his way towards a cape. He makes mistakes; he almost breaks his cardinal rule and kills someone; he (*sigh*) smacks women around. The process of him selecting the visage of a bat man is nigh-mystical: at a crucial juncture, one of those flying rodents improbably busts through a window like Miller's version of an angel bursting through parted clouds. (I, for one, had no idea that bat's skulls were that thick.) The story has no main villain, beyond the corrupt police force, though Harvey Dent makes an appearance in his pre-Two Face form; it's really a story of man versus himself, as Wayne struggles to overcome his own shortcomings and weaknesses. This is probably the most accessible Batman I've ever seen.
The only other main character in the story is Jim Gordon, who gropes his way towards his own legendary role as The One Good Cop in a sea of corruption. And grope he does, having an illicit affair with one of his fellow detectives. Whereas Bruce Wayne suffers bullet wounds and broken limbs for his failings, though, Jim Gordon suffers his own conscience. The city punishes Batman; Jim Gordon punishes himself. The two of them don't meet in the context of the story - though Gordon spends the last panel waiting on a rooftop for his new "friend" to arrive - and that seems strangely appropriate. In Miller's Batman, Gordon is more of an alter-ego to Batman than Bruce Wayne, who's a shell persona propped up to give Batman an alibi and unlimited funding. It's no mistake that Bruce Wayne has never had a steady girlfriend. Gordon is the one with family and a potential son and an actual job; he is imminently human, and until he makes the leap to working with Batman instead of hunting him down, Batman truly is a criminal vigilante. Jim Gordon makes Batman a superhero by being the well-intentioned, noble human who can go so far and only do so much before he has to call in outside help. He makes Batman necessary.
I somewhat prefer the artwork of The Dark Knight Returns, particularly the coloring. TDKR had darker, crisper hues; B: Y1 looks distinctly 80's, lots of purple and pink. I also missed having a Robin around, but I understand the necessity of keeping Batman isolated.
Now about Catwoman...
Writers/Artists: Frank Miller and David Mazzucchelli
Colorist: Richmond Lewis
Letterist: Todd Klein
Editor: Denny O'Neil
Lo, I have tempted the Fates with my defiance. I have reared back and spat mightily into the wind, and the wind did turn a bored, amused glance in my direction, and now I have loogie in my eye.
In other words, yes, I tried to read something else by Frank Miller, and now I do want to punch him in the throat.
Batman: Year One explores the origins of Batman and what compelled a grown man, let alone a pampered billionaire, to put on a bat suit and turn vigilante. The first Chris Nolan film hews pretty closely to this text, down to the cliffhanger at the ending, with the major exclusion of Catwoman. For which I can only be grateful: Nolan has his issues with female characters but at least he didn't turn Catwoman into a dominatrix prostitute.
I find it a very, very sad commentary on the state of our media entertainment that I'm grateful to a director whose female characters were all whimpering mothers, traitors, or strong and dead. Because at least he didn't turn them into whores, too.
Frank Miller has no such hesitations. Every single woman in Batman: Year One is a whore, except for Barbara Gordon, Jim Gordon's pregnant wife whose only action in the story is to make him coffee and be upset by his philandering (but of course stands by her man), and Detective Sarah Essen, Jim Gordon's woman on the side whose only action in the story is to light his cigarettes and be upset when Jim Gordon goes back to his wife. All the other women in the story occupy the East End, which Bruce Wayne contemptuously calls "the worst of it": the establishing panel shows a plethora of XXX theatres, low-grade hotels, and topless bars. Which, really, Frank Miller? That's the "worst of it"? Not where people are being murdered or beaten by cops, but the red light district? Your Puritannical issues with sex, let me show you them.
The women here range from 13-year-old hooker Holly to Selina Kyle pre-Catwoman, who reward Bruce's attempts to rescue them from their cruel pimp by stabbing him in the leg. Which, okay, if some random guy karate-kicked a pimp, perhaps his hookers really would respond by defending their abuser from someone who might turn out to be a worse scumbag. But then Selina gets inspired by Batman's vigilante acts to start her own line of costumed adventures, and punches out their pimp before dragging Holly away from a life of rape and exploitation. Which begs the question, why the hell didn't she do that long ago? It's clear that Selina knows karate and can handle herself, yet for an indeterminate period of time she chose - instead of burglary or hell, even bare-knuckled boxing - to work as a prostitute and allow Holly to do the same.
Because in Frank Miller's universe, women are just naturally whores.
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH.
Okay. Setting his monstrous issues with women aside - Bruce Wayne is somewhat less psychotic in Year One than he is in The Dark Knight Returns. In fact, he's almost human as he stumbles his way towards a cape. He makes mistakes; he almost breaks his cardinal rule and kills someone; he (*sigh*) smacks women around. The process of him selecting the visage of a bat man is nigh-mystical: at a crucial juncture, one of those flying rodents improbably busts through a window like Miller's version of an angel bursting through parted clouds. (I, for one, had no idea that bat's skulls were that thick.) The story has no main villain, beyond the corrupt police force, though Harvey Dent makes an appearance in his pre-Two Face form; it's really a story of man versus himself, as Wayne struggles to overcome his own shortcomings and weaknesses. This is probably the most accessible Batman I've ever seen.
The only other main character in the story is Jim Gordon, who gropes his way towards his own legendary role as The One Good Cop in a sea of corruption. And grope he does, having an illicit affair with one of his fellow detectives. Whereas Bruce Wayne suffers bullet wounds and broken limbs for his failings, though, Jim Gordon suffers his own conscience. The city punishes Batman; Jim Gordon punishes himself. The two of them don't meet in the context of the story - though Gordon spends the last panel waiting on a rooftop for his new "friend" to arrive - and that seems strangely appropriate. In Miller's Batman, Gordon is more of an alter-ego to Batman than Bruce Wayne, who's a shell persona propped up to give Batman an alibi and unlimited funding. It's no mistake that Bruce Wayne has never had a steady girlfriend. Gordon is the one with family and a potential son and an actual job; he is imminently human, and until he makes the leap to working with Batman instead of hunting him down, Batman truly is a criminal vigilante. Jim Gordon makes Batman a superhero by being the well-intentioned, noble human who can go so far and only do so much before he has to call in outside help. He makes Batman necessary.
I somewhat prefer the artwork of The Dark Knight Returns, particularly the coloring. TDKR had darker, crisper hues; B: Y1 looks distinctly 80's, lots of purple and pink. I also missed having a Robin around, but I understand the necessity of keeping Batman isolated.
Now about Catwoman...
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Comics: The Dark Knight Returns (***/****)
Title: The Dark Knight Returns
Writer/Penciller: Frank Miller
Inker: Klaus Janson
Colorist: Lynn Varley
Letterist: John Constanza
Editors: Dick Giordano, Dennis O'Neil
The real title of this post should be something more like, "My god, I don't want to punch Frank Miller in the throat!"
This came as a real surprise to me, but then again The Dark Knight Returns was published in 1986, early on in his career and long before Sin City or The Spirit or, ugh, Daddy's Little Girl. For my feelings on those subjects, please refer to this Shortpacked! strip. Miller never met a fictional woman that he didn't want to turn into a whore and/or kill; witness Batman: Year One, published just a year after TDKR, in which he retcons Selina Kyle's origins from fierce cat burglar to a dominatrix/prostitute. (And let's not even discuss his retconning of the entire Spartan society to a bunch of hetero manly men who use the term "boy-lover" in scorn. Frank, I know some ancient Greek urns you should have a look at.)
But I digress.
Catwoman makes a brief appearance in TDKR as, of course, the boozy madame of an escort service. Yet that was one of the only plot points that got my hackles up. Yes, Batman was presented as a scary psychopath, but hell, everyone in the comic is a little bit crazy. Miller does not have an optimistic view of humanity, an opinion that hovers one skip and a jump away from outright fascism. The denizens of Gotham are presented as mindless and panicky animals who riot the second the lights go out, and are only brought to heel by having a gun pointed at them (by Jim Gordon) or having their femurs broken (by Batman). It must be said that Miller seems at least partially aware of his fascist tendencies, as he has minor characters point them out in Batman. Still, Miller's recent statements about 9/11 and the Iraq war seem to indicate that he's abandoned any hesitancy he had about the right-wing agenda.
While the comic's drawbacks lie in ideology, its strengths are mostly technical. The artwork is fantastic, if jam-packed: every inch of every page is filled with panels, sometimes up to 20 panels per page. It was a jolt when I first started reading, yet once I got used to it I didn't have any problems keeping the action straight, and boy howdy did that make the action fly.
And then there's Carrie fucking Kelley. I love Carrie Kelley, though I worry for her long-term chances with someone as twisted up inside as Bruce Wayne. But I give Miller props for creating a female character as independent and resourceful as Carrie: the 13-year-old progeny of neglectful drug addicts ("Hey...didn't we have a kid?"), she takes up the mask of Robin after seeing Batman in action. It's clearly a quest for purpose, and on the way she saves Batman's ass more than once. I love their relationship, in which Batman punctuates his stern lectures with "Careful..." and "Watch out..." as they hop between skyscrapers. There was a moment in The Dark Knight Triumphant when wee little Carrie embraces a totally-naked Bruce, and I raised a warning fist at Frank Miller; but he didn't Go There, thank god.
There's another moment later, in Hunt the Dark Knight, where Carrie almost falls to her death and barely manages to catch Bruce's cape. He reels her in and murmurs "Good soldier. Good soldier." as she grips onto him high above the city. Fucking awesome character.
Another pleasant surprise to me was Ellen Yindel, the police commissioner who takes over after Jim Gordon retires. Determined to catch Batman, she comes pretty damn close. She's an antagonist, but a principled one, and never comes off as a villain.
On the whole, an impressively non-infuriating reading experience. Well done, Frank. Your throat shall go unpunched today.
Writer/Penciller: Frank Miller
Inker: Klaus Janson
Colorist: Lynn Varley
Letterist: John Constanza
Editors: Dick Giordano, Dennis O'Neil
The real title of this post should be something more like, "My god, I don't want to punch Frank Miller in the throat!"
This came as a real surprise to me, but then again The Dark Knight Returns was published in 1986, early on in his career and long before Sin City or The Spirit or, ugh, Daddy's Little Girl. For my feelings on those subjects, please refer to this Shortpacked! strip. Miller never met a fictional woman that he didn't want to turn into a whore and/or kill; witness Batman: Year One, published just a year after TDKR, in which he retcons Selina Kyle's origins from fierce cat burglar to a dominatrix/prostitute. (And let's not even discuss his retconning of the entire Spartan society to a bunch of hetero manly men who use the term "boy-lover" in scorn. Frank, I know some ancient Greek urns you should have a look at.)
But I digress.
Catwoman makes a brief appearance in TDKR as, of course, the boozy madame of an escort service. Yet that was one of the only plot points that got my hackles up. Yes, Batman was presented as a scary psychopath, but hell, everyone in the comic is a little bit crazy. Miller does not have an optimistic view of humanity, an opinion that hovers one skip and a jump away from outright fascism. The denizens of Gotham are presented as mindless and panicky animals who riot the second the lights go out, and are only brought to heel by having a gun pointed at them (by Jim Gordon) or having their femurs broken (by Batman). It must be said that Miller seems at least partially aware of his fascist tendencies, as he has minor characters point them out in Batman. Still, Miller's recent statements about 9/11 and the Iraq war seem to indicate that he's abandoned any hesitancy he had about the right-wing agenda.
While the comic's drawbacks lie in ideology, its strengths are mostly technical. The artwork is fantastic, if jam-packed: every inch of every page is filled with panels, sometimes up to 20 panels per page. It was a jolt when I first started reading, yet once I got used to it I didn't have any problems keeping the action straight, and boy howdy did that make the action fly.
And then there's Carrie fucking Kelley. I love Carrie Kelley, though I worry for her long-term chances with someone as twisted up inside as Bruce Wayne. But I give Miller props for creating a female character as independent and resourceful as Carrie: the 13-year-old progeny of neglectful drug addicts ("Hey...didn't we have a kid?"), she takes up the mask of Robin after seeing Batman in action. It's clearly a quest for purpose, and on the way she saves Batman's ass more than once. I love their relationship, in which Batman punctuates his stern lectures with "Careful..." and "Watch out..." as they hop between skyscrapers. There was a moment in The Dark Knight Triumphant when wee little Carrie embraces a totally-naked Bruce, and I raised a warning fist at Frank Miller; but he didn't Go There, thank god.
There's another moment later, in Hunt the Dark Knight, where Carrie almost falls to her death and barely manages to catch Bruce's cape. He reels her in and murmurs "Good soldier. Good soldier." as she grips onto him high above the city. Fucking awesome character.
Another pleasant surprise to me was Ellen Yindel, the police commissioner who takes over after Jim Gordon retires. Determined to catch Batman, she comes pretty damn close. She's an antagonist, but a principled one, and never comes off as a villain.
On the whole, an impressively non-infuriating reading experience. Well done, Frank. Your throat shall go unpunched today.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Reader Response: Persepolis
Title: Persepolis
Writer/Artist: Marjane Satrapi
Published: 2003
Now's a timely moment to pick this book up. The story of Persepolis details the events of the 1979 cultural revolution that overthrew the Shah and brought in the Islamic regime, but it bears a strong resemblence to current events. History, unfortunately, repeats itself. (Satrapi has recently made statements supporting the progressive movement in Iran.)
The story begins with little Marji, age 10. She's a precocious kid, the child of Marxist intellectuals, but a kid nonetheless: when veils become mandatory at school she and her schoolmates use theirs to play jump rope. She dreams of becoming a prophet and a great leader. Over the next four years, though, the world edges into Marji's life and dreams. It's haunting to watch the slow creep of repression: people assume that totalitarian regimes swoop in overnight with death squads, and there is plenty of violence in Persepolis. Friends of the family emerge from the shah's prisons only to suddenly disappear again, and discover that their torturers are the same. (I for one had no idea that many of the original revolutionaries were communists like Marji's parents.) But even more chilling, I got the impression of little inches, little creeping ways that their new government took control. It has ominous meanings for modern Iran (and the U.S.).
Despite the heavy subject matter, Satrapi manages to inject little moments of humor and humanity. When she and her father discuss the unfolding conflict with Iraq, 12-year-old Marji insists, "The Iraqis have always been our enemies. They want to invade us." Her father muses: "And worse, they drive like maniacs." Minor characters come and go - with Marji and her parents as the sole constants - but all are developed.
The illustrations are plain black and white, fairly simple, but perfectly suited to a story so dramatic and complicated. I occasionally had trouble telling characters apart, but not that often. An excellent, intelligent graphic novel. The last panel will stay with you for a long, long time, as it obviously stayed with Satrapi.
Writer/Artist: Marjane Satrapi
Published: 2003
Now's a timely moment to pick this book up. The story of Persepolis details the events of the 1979 cultural revolution that overthrew the Shah and brought in the Islamic regime, but it bears a strong resemblence to current events. History, unfortunately, repeats itself. (Satrapi has recently made statements supporting the progressive movement in Iran.)
The story begins with little Marji, age 10. She's a precocious kid, the child of Marxist intellectuals, but a kid nonetheless: when veils become mandatory at school she and her schoolmates use theirs to play jump rope. She dreams of becoming a prophet and a great leader. Over the next four years, though, the world edges into Marji's life and dreams. It's haunting to watch the slow creep of repression: people assume that totalitarian regimes swoop in overnight with death squads, and there is plenty of violence in Persepolis. Friends of the family emerge from the shah's prisons only to suddenly disappear again, and discover that their torturers are the same. (I for one had no idea that many of the original revolutionaries were communists like Marji's parents.) But even more chilling, I got the impression of little inches, little creeping ways that their new government took control. It has ominous meanings for modern Iran (and the U.S.).
Despite the heavy subject matter, Satrapi manages to inject little moments of humor and humanity. When she and her father discuss the unfolding conflict with Iraq, 12-year-old Marji insists, "The Iraqis have always been our enemies. They want to invade us." Her father muses: "And worse, they drive like maniacs." Minor characters come and go - with Marji and her parents as the sole constants - but all are developed.
The illustrations are plain black and white, fairly simple, but perfectly suited to a story so dramatic and complicated. I occasionally had trouble telling characters apart, but not that often. An excellent, intelligent graphic novel. The last panel will stay with you for a long, long time, as it obviously stayed with Satrapi.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
I'm still working on the "money" part...
A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.
I have moved into a one-bedroom mother-in-law apartment in Milwaukie. It is only the second time in my life I have lived alone, not since the second half of senior year in college, when I lived in what my family still refers to as "The Crawlspace."
This is much more spacious, and for half as much. The landlords - an older couple - have been appraised of the drums and rocking out and so forth, and thus far seem okay with it. I'm not sure if the place merits a nickname. I think I shall call it "This Land." ("I think we should call it YOUR GRAVE.")
So. A new decade ~begins~.
The Law of Godfather Montages dictates that I must mention a death to pair my rebirth, so I hereby take a moment to mourn the passing of DAR: A Super Girly Top Secret Comic Diary. It sounds like the artist Erika Moen is moving on to new projects, so brava; still, I'll miss the comic. Moen was always so open with her life, and I appreciated that she called herself a dyke who happened to be married to a man. Down with restrictive labels, dammit!
I've decided to try to do more with this blog, so I'm going to start using it as my reader-response page for whatever comics I'm currently reading. So, look for that.
I have moved into a one-bedroom mother-in-law apartment in Milwaukie. It is only the second time in my life I have lived alone, not since the second half of senior year in college, when I lived in what my family still refers to as "The Crawlspace."
This is much more spacious, and for half as much. The landlords - an older couple - have been appraised of the drums and rocking out and so forth, and thus far seem okay with it. I'm not sure if the place merits a nickname. I think I shall call it "This Land." ("I think we should call it YOUR GRAVE.")
So. A new decade ~begins~.
The Law of Godfather Montages dictates that I must mention a death to pair my rebirth, so I hereby take a moment to mourn the passing of DAR: A Super Girly Top Secret Comic Diary. It sounds like the artist Erika Moen is moving on to new projects, so brava; still, I'll miss the comic. Moen was always so open with her life, and I appreciated that she called herself a dyke who happened to be married to a man. Down with restrictive labels, dammit!
I've decided to try to do more with this blog, so I'm going to start using it as my reader-response page for whatever comics I'm currently reading. So, look for that.
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