The two garbagemen from "The Burbs." |
Hawkeye. |
The Last Mechanical Monster. A Fire Story. Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow? Mom's Cancer.
The two garbagemen from "The Burbs." |
Hawkeye. |
Friends with long memories may recall that I posted about a nearly identical plate I found several years ago. That was before the fire. I never really expected to see another again, until Karen and I were shopping today and I emitted a strangled "AAAAHH!" while pointing speechlessly into a cabinet. Karen rushed over to make sure I was fine. I was better than fine.
By the way, I am not oblivious or indifferent to the current political drama. Sometimes that's when light posts about plates are needed the most.
Me in the Library of Congress, just because. |
I answered her questions as best I could and liked one of them enough that I asked if I could post it here. I think it's a good summary of how I approach the job. I have no idea if my perspective is common or ideal. It's just mine.
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1. What is your philosophy/reason behind creating works in various genres and subgenres? What purposes are you hoping genres will serve for your audiences?
First, just to clarify (and I suspect we’re on the same page here), I don’t consider comics or graphic novels a genre, which is worth mentioning because many people do. They are a medium that encompasses many genres, including those you mention: science fiction, nonfiction, memoir, etc.
That out of the way, I don’t know how to answer this question and I doubt many authors would. We write the stories we want or need to write. I’ve given almost no thought to which genre I’m working in or onto which shelf a bookstore or library will place my work. As Orson Welles said to a critic who asked him to analyze one of his films, “I’m the bird. You’re the ornithologist.”
That may be professional malpractice on my part.
I’ve written two graphic novels that I’d call nonfiction memoir (Mom’s Cancer and A Fire Story). Mom’s Cancer also crosses into graphic medicine, a subgenre that didn’t exist when I wrote it. I’ve seen A Fire Story described as a work of “climate grief,” which may become a notable subgenre of its own if climate change goes as projected. I’ve called my second book, Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow, historical fiction but don’t know if that’s accurate (I wanted to call it a “graphic polemic” but my publisher wouldn’t let me). My latest, The Last Mechanical Monster, is straight-up science fiction/fantasy.
Each was a story I felt compelled to tell, and which genre it fell into barely crossed my mind.
(I did devote quite a bit of time and thought deciding if Last Mechanical Monster was science fiction or fantasy and came up with an answer that satisfied me but made no difference in the marketing, placement, or audience for the book that I could tell.)
I’d say that I don’t choose genres, genres choose me.
Likewise, I give very little thought to serving an audience when writing a book. I want to tell a good story I’d want to read and nobody but me could write. I aim to make a book my editor would want to publish and my family would be proud of. They’re my audience. I’d be thrilled if many, many other people read and love it, but that’s beyond my control so I try not to fret about it.
The only time I recall worrying about a broader audience was when my editor and I discussed whether to include an obscenity in A Fire Story. We knew it would exclude us from the young reader market but decided to include the word for journalistic authenticity and because we couldn’t think of an alternative that wasn’t stupid.
Honestly, I treat all the work I do, even my fiction, as journalism. I just try to write and draw what happened as clearly and economically as I can, even if I made it all up. As a result, my approach to memoir, graphic medicine, historical fiction, and science fiction/fantasy has been pretty much the same: tell it straight, with some tone-shifting to help readers keep their bearings. A nonfiction book about cancer should not have the same tone as a light fantasy about a giant robot.
A quick selfie with Nathan in the Schulz Museum's lobby before his talk. |
Appropriately given his name (yes it's real), Nathan writes and draws historical graphic novels for kids under the series title "Hazardous Tales." He's also started a new series unrelated to his historical work that looks fun and charming. He says he does about 1.5 books a year, which is a prodigious output.
He's one of the two best comics-related public speakers I've seen. The other is Scott McCloud. He filled the museum's little theater to capacity and held his audience rapt throughout.
Nathan does what used to be called a "chalk talk," in which he speaks and draws at the same time, except instead of a chalkboard or easel he uses a tablet connected to a screen. Chalk talks are a lost art; they used to be a common tool in the cartoonists' tool box but kind of faded away half a century ago.
Nathan is confident and polished without being slick. You can tell he's done this talk a hundred times but it seems fresh, and he's able to roll with the crowd's responses and mood. Today's subject was Lewis & Clark, and he had his young fans squealing with laughter while imparting real knowledge.
For example, he did a fun riff on Sacagawea rolling her eyes and scoffing at Lewis & Clark's excitement to "discover" flora and fauna her people had known for centuries, then backtracked to explain how she wouldn't have actually made that joke because everything she said had to be translated from Hidatsa to French to English and back again. Toward the end he pivoted from (historically accurate) poop jokes to a moving account of how Lewis & Clark gave both Sacagawea and Clark's slave York equal votes on group decisions, a quietly revolutionary act in the early 1800s.
Great smart stuff. If you get a chance to see Nathan Hale speak, take it, and if you're in a position to invite him to give a talk, do it. Meanwhile, I'll be working on my chalk talk.
Golden poppy flowers are easy: four yellow-orange-red petals that fold into a cone at night and open during the day. For this piece I focused on the stem and leaf structure. The leaves are interesting, like tiny green hands with curling fingers. If you don't get them right the whole plant doesn't look right.
The color outlines are an experiment to see if I like them. They're red and green ink drawn with a nib on watercolor paper, on top of which I watercolored. I'm not sure about them yet.
This is just a sketch I didn't intend to share, but I know some people enjoy process posts. If it turns into something good, I'll share that, too.
Photo of Charlie Chaplin in The Great Dictator, which should be required viewing now. |
A point I haven't seen someone make yet:* for the entire Biden presidency, the right-wing has accused him of being a dictator. Just a week ago, North Dakota Gov. Doug Burgum was railing against the "Biden Dictatorship" on CNN.
Yet now that the Supreme Court has handed President Biden actual honest-to-goodness dictatorial powers that he could use to murder his enemies today? Not a peep. That's because they're hypocrites who know deep down that Joe Biden is a fundamentally decent person who'd never use them.
On the other hand, they're absolutely giddy that their guy might get to. Trump is posting lists of people he'd like to see tried for treason, starting with Rep. Nancy Pelosi, General Mark Milley, and former Rep. Liz Cheney. Think he won't do it? You haven't been paying attention.
Look at who's celebrating the ruling and who's criticizing it. That tells you who thinks elevating presidents into all-powerful kings is a good idea and who doesn't.
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*I'm sure someone has made this point, I just haven't seen it.