New Year's Tapas

As I get back to work and normal routines, some odds and ends to start 2013.

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Washington Post writer and comics champion Michael Cavna wrote a lovely essay naming his "most compelling cartoon of the year," and I can't argue with his choice. I'll spoil the reveal but encourage you to read it anyway: it's a drawing cartoonist Richard Thompson did of his own brain while he was undergoing brain surgery to treat the symptoms of Parkinson's disease, which forced him to retire his great comic strip "Cul de Sac." I posted my own appreciation of Richard and his work (which I was thrilled to learn Richard saw and liked) shortly before the last "Cul de Sac" strip, and Cavna's piece retells the story leading up to that decision as well as events since.

While I'm on the topic: Team Cul de Sac, the effort organized by Chris Sparks via the Michael J. Fox Foundation to help fund Parkinson's research, raised more than $53,200 last year. Matching funds from the Fox folks boosted that sum over $100,000. The bulk of the money came through sales of the Team Cul de Sac book, for which cartoonists drew their own interpretations of Richard's world and characters, as well as an auction of the book's original art. I helped. That's a good amount of money for a good cause.

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Occasionally I read something that perfectly captures my own thoughts, and sometimes thoughts I didn't even know I had, better than I could myself. This Gawker piece, "Journalism is Not Narcissism," is one. Here's the lede:

"Every year, thousands of fresh-faced young aspiring journalists flood our nation's college classrooms, in order to learn how to practice their craft. What should we tell them? This, first: journalism is not about you."

I was a newspaper reporter for a few years, fresh out of college, and my ideal for how I hoped to do the job could be summed up in two words: impartial and invisible. Neither is perfectly attainable, but if you're aware of your biases you can counterbalance them. Watch for assumptions and insinuations. Convey every responsible side of the story fairly. If I did my job right, no one would ever detect which candidates I liked or which issues I supported (although I hoped some might notice that this Fies fellow's stories read a bit more clearly and elegantly than most). Honestly, that was one of the existential burrs of journalism that chafed my hide: at the boneheaded age of 25, I could foresee a time when I'd rather do than write about those who did.

Gawker writer Hamilton Nolan goes on to skewer the notion that writers' best subjects are themselves.

"Left unsaid in most discussions of this sort of writing is the fact that most people's lives are not that interesting. Certainly, simple math will tell you that a 20-year-old has only a limited store of really compelling personal stories to tell. Most people who decide to base their writing careers on stories about themselves end up like bands that used their entire lifetime's worth of good material in their first album, and then sputtered uselessly when it came time for the follow-up."

Yes. Though not directed at comics, the Gawker piece bullseyes my gripe with a ton of comics and graphic novels, which somehow--and I don't know why, although I've done some thinking about it--lend themselves to overwrought navel-gazing by putative Voices of Their Generation. Unless you're a refugee from Revolutionary Iran, you're just not fascinating enough to support one book, let alone the cottage industries that some creators mine from their lives. Benjamin Franklin didn't start writing his autobiography until he was 65 because he wasn't sure he'd accomplished enough to merit one. What a maroon!

This may sound like an odd complaint from the guy who wrote Mom's Cancer. But Mom's Cancer isn't my story, it's my mother's. Although I'm necessarily a character in it, as a writer and editor I ruthlessly cut everything that didn't advance my Mom's story, including much (not all) of my personal whiny angst. In fact, I approached writing that book very much as a journalist, determined to report what I experienced as honestly as I could. To the extent it works, I think that's what readers respond to and what still makes it different from similar stories.

You could name some counterexamples of fine young memoirists doing great work, and I'd concede there are exceptions, but I think Nolan reminds writers of something important that's out of style and being forgotten. Less looking inward, more looking out.

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I didn't know what to expect when I printed up 50 zines collecting the "Adventures of Old Time-Traveling Brian" and offered 45 for sale, but I'm pretty sure I didn't expect to only have two copies left two weeks later. Fantastic! My mailing list reads like a "Who's Who" of my favorite people (and I am keeping a list of which numbered limited-edition copy goes to whom, so that when they start showing up for enormous sums on eBay I can finger the culprit).

Numbers 44/45 and 45/45 are still available. After that, there'll be no more ever. Many thanks to everyone who supported my work by sending a few bucks my way, I don't take it for granted and hope you found it worthwhile.

But no returns.

The Collected Adventures of Old Time-Traveling Brian

 

It took longer than I hoped and more work than I expected, but at last I'm happy to offer a special, limited-edition collection of the Adventures of Old Time-Traveling Brian, the dopey webcomic I began posting to my blog last summer. That's the cover above.

This 20-page zine includes the six comics posted here, a seventh comic I made exclusively for the zine, plus some new art (I'm very proud of the title page!) and surprise bonus features. Its price is $5.95 for deliveries in the United States and $7.95 elsewhere (including postage) via the handy PayPal button below. If you can't or don't use PayPal, e-mail me privately and we'll work something out.

[LATER UPDATE: Sorry, the PayPal button's gone because the zine is all sold out! My thanks to everyone!]

Frankly, although I encourage you to use PayPal for both our convenience, putting that button there terrifies me. I've never tried it before. People who have employed the button reassure me it works fine and won't zap your money into outer space or drain my bank account to the Ukraine. Fingers crossed....

When I say "limited edition" I mean it. There are exactly 50 of these zines in existence. I'm keeping five for me and my family, leaving 45 that I've signed and numbered (in pencil, almost as if they were actual works of art!). There'll never be any more.

Zines are deliberately home-spun, rough-hewn, do-it-yourself publications, with varying levels of sophistication. I guess the prototypical zine consists of a stack of photocopied (or in the old days mimeographed) pages folded in half and stapled together. I tried to class mine up a bit. First, instead of standard 20# 8.5 x 11-inch printer paper, I used a very heavy (32#) legal-sized paper, making the completed dimensions 7 x 8.5 inches (~18 x 21.5 cm). I originally wanted to do the cover in a beefy watercolor paper with terrific texture; after an initial test printing went well I bought two big pads of the stuff, only to find that it didn't want to go through my printer anymore. Instead, I printed the cover on two-ply plate Bristol board, exactly the same paper I draw all my comics on, which seemed very appropriate. It looks sharp.

Anybody want two big pads of watercolor paper?

My zine-making Bible was a blog post by cartoonist Jim Rugg cryptically titled "How to Make a Zine." Jim did something I hadn't seriously considered until I read his post, which was printing the entire job on his home inkjet printer. I assumed that would be prohibitively expensive, but when I estimated the costs and took advantage of inexpensive off-brand ink like Jim did, it became pretty attractive. Best of all, doing my own printing let me use my own paper (which I also got at a close-out price) and maintain total quality control.

Which is not to say they're perfect. A few pages are crooked, a few spines stapled off-center. About 20 copies have extra holes where I had to pull out their staples, swap out pages and restaple them, because that's how many I made before I noticed I'd numbered a page incorrectly. I encourage you to regard such imperfections as "charm."

Zine-making in progress on my kitchen table. Papercutter, interior pages and cover, long-arm stapler. Elmer's glue on the seat back at right, above a few completed zines on the seat below. At lower right is a green 35-pound jug of kitty litter atop a drawing board that I used as a flattening press. And at the left is a roll of Christmas paper because as soon as I move my garbage out of the way this is also where we wrap gifts. It's a good table.

I realize the price I'm asking isn't cheap for a zine but trust me--I ain't getting rich. Because I used such high-quality paper, these suckers are heavy and will cost a lot just to mail. There's a special thing in the book I had to buy 50 of (which helped me settle on the size of my print run). My wastage was unexpectedly high--not your problem, I realize, but the number of pages I recycled for poor print quality or stupid errors like incorrect numbering was large. If I sell every zine, I'll just about cover the cost of materials. My labor is free--my gift to you.

If it's not clear yet, I don't know what I'm doing. But this entire project has been a joy. If you'll permit me (just try to stop me), I'll close by quoting from a little essay I wrote to close the zine:

"In contrast to making a graphic novel, which can take years with little feedback or reward, I could write, draw, and post a new Adventure to the Web in a day. I think of these as 'good honest comics': funny words and pictures, no gatekeepers, no deep strategy or goal. They're sincere. Offering them as a zine is a natural extension of that aesthetic.

"Producing these silly little stories stretched new creative muscles and made me a better cartoonist, and I appreciate your indulence. It was fun."

THURSDAY NIGHT UPDATE: I've now mailed off all the orders I received (except for a few I'll be delivering in person--you know who you are), and they should fight their way through the holiday mail in a few days. If you think you ordered one and it hasn't arrived in a week or so (longer outside the U.S.), let me know. The response has been terrific. Still got a few left. Thanks again!

The Adventures of Old Time-Traveling Brian Part 6

At last! The long-promised, long-delayed, little-anticipated continuation of the Adventures of Old Time-Traveling Brian! It's been a while; if you want to catch up, here are Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5. The premise was inspired by a Facebook post in which I wrote:

"Sometimes I turn around real fast to see if I'm being followed by an older time-traveling version of myself. Of course, now I'll be expecting that move..."

These comics are silly spontaneous fun for me to write and draw, and some folks seem to enjoy 'em. Plus, they're all totally true to life, or will be assuming I invent a time machine and set out to meddle with my past dressed like Marty McFly in "Back to the Future 2."

Like all the best characters in all the best memoirs, the girl is a composite. If you're a woman who knew me between the ages of 13 and 19, and wonder if she's you, the answer is Yes.

* * *

I've been mulling over the idea of collecting the Adventures of Old Time-Traveling Brian in a 'zine, which is a deliberately home-spun comic printed, folded and stapled on the kitchen table. Nothing fancy--in fact, "fancy" is the antithesis of the 'zine aesthetic. Maybe a very small print run, signed-and-numbered limited edition, sold at a price that'd cover expenses. Maybe a little exclusive bonus material.

Any interest in something like that?

The Adventures of Old Time-Traveling Brian Part 5

Thought of this one while waking up this morning. That's the joy of these things for me: get an idea in the morning, broadcast it to the world that afternoon. Astounding when you think about it.

Don't worry if this installment's in-jokes whoosh overhead; sometimes I write to amuse no one but myself. I'm not even sure this one makes sense. I'm also probably overly optimistic about my future hairline in Panel 2 but, since I'm time traveling anyway, I figure why not hope for the best.

I have no doubt that when I eventually gain the ability to time travel, I will be my own worst enemy.

Next Day Edit: Changed a few details, including the final punch line. I like Crazy Old Coot Brian. Might see him again.

The Adventures of Old Time-Traveling Brian Part 4

Back because Rachel and Ronnie demanded it! The Continuing Adventures of Old Time-Traveling Brian, Part 4! Here are Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 to catch you up.

I think this one should actually follow immediately after Part 1. Unfortunately, my brain doesn't conjure them up in order. Please rearrange your brains accordingly.

The Adventures of Old Time-Traveling Brian Part 3

All the background info you need (or are likely to get, anyway) is at Part 1 and Part 2. I swear, I could draw a million of these.

I'm not saying they'd be worth reading.

 

As you may suspect, I'm doing these not just for fun but as exercises to try out some different styles and tools (brushes, pens, wash), and work on distilling my work to the bare essentials needed to tell a little story. That's the challenge of cartooning.

But I can't lie. Mostly I'm doing them for fun.

The Adventures of Old Time-Traveling Brian Part 2

Yesterday's post provides an explanation, to the extent one is possible, for today's. This theme continues to haunt me. More exorcisms may be forthcoming.

With Special Guest Appearances by my sister Brenda ("Nurse Sis"), to whom I owe many apologies, and Mom, who it was an unexpected treat to draw again even in a silly farce.

The Adventures of Old Time-Traveling Brian Part 1

A few days ago I posted a thought on Facebook, one that you may be surprised to learn occurs to me quite often:

"Sometimes I turn around real fast to see if I'm being followed by an older time-traveling version of myself. Of course, now I'll be expecting that move..."

I figured once I had it out of my system, I could let it go. Unfortunately, I immediately thought of a dozen odd, interesting or funny consquences of what it would be like to be stalked by a future version of yourself. Because I've learned not to ignore a naggingly fertile field, if only so it won't keep me awake at night, I decided to commit it to paper. Herewith:

The Adventures of Old Time-Traveling Brian, Part 1. There may be more parts, there may not. Believe me, I have other things I'd rather be doing. It all depends on whether this idea leaves me alone so I can get some sleep.

It should go without saying that if I ever do obtain the ability to travel through time, I will dress like Marty McFly in Back to the Future Part II.