Ten Most Important Eisner Award Winners

Here's a nice surprise: John Dodge of Comic Book Resources (CBR) calls Mom's Cancer one of the "Ten Most Important Eisner Award Winners" of all time! That's ten drawn from 35 years of awards given to hundreds of comics in many, many categories. I'm on a list with Watchmen, Bone, and Calvin & Hobbes.

Neat!

Dodge wrote, "Apart from helping to lay the foundation for digital comics as a relevant branch of the wider medium, this win also shined a spotlight on Mom's Cancer as a testament to the kind of heartfelt, deeply moving interpersonal drama that is so often lacking in other, more action centric titles that are themselves indicative of the type of stories that have long dominated the world of comics."

Mom's Cancer won as a webcomic in 2005 before it was published as a book by Charles Kochman at Abrams ComicArts in 2006, and was indeed the first webcomic to win an Eisner in the brand-new category of "Best Digital Comic." At the time, there was considerable debate about whether online comics were actually comics at all. As I recall, Will Eisner himself settled the issue. Since his name was on the trophy, his opinion carried considerable weight.

(I never met Mr. Eisner. He loved handing out his namesake awards in person, but died in January 2005 before I won mine.)

Mom's Cancer is still in print. I give a couple of talks every year to medical students who study it in their medical humanities curricula. I'm always welcome at the annual international graphic medicine conference, some of whose organizers got into the field because they read it. And once in a while I get a royalty check worth enough to buy a real nice dinner.

I couldn't be prouder of a story or more gratified by the astonishingly long life it's had, coming up on 20 years now. I know my friend, Editor Charlie, feels the same. It's truly nice to see that acknowledged by CBR.

Tall Tales by Jaffee

Recently bought at a fair price from a reputable auction: original art for the Feb. 12, 1962 syndicated comic strip "Tall Tales" by the great Al Jaffee.

Jaffee's idea for "Tall Tales" was to turn comics convention on its side--literally 90 degrees. Each strip was tall and skinny, with gags composed to suit the space. Jaffee is much better known for his work for MAD Magazine than a short-lived newspaper comic, so why was I eager to have this? 

First, because I doubt I could afford a Jaffee MAD piece. But also: anyone who's heard me talk or write about my small collection of original comic art knows that I have one rule: everything has to come with a story. I don't just collect to collect. Every piece is by a friend, or acquired from the artist directly, or was drawn by a cartooning hero whose influence I can effuse about for longer than you can bear to hear it.

As I mentioned when Al Jaffee died in April, I met him at the San Diego Comic-Con in 2008, when I was scheduled to sign books at the Abrams booth immediately after him. We had a half hour to chat, and Mr. Jaffee was as interesting, charming, and twinkly as you'd want him to be. The book he'd come to sign was a "Tall Tales" collection by Abrams. Ah ha! There's the connection! I treasured my signed copy until it and my house disappeared. 

When I won the auction, I emailed Editor Charlie, friend and editor to both Jaffee and me, and asked if my strip happened to be in the book. Charlie said "No" and gave me an interesting explanation for it. I had forgotten that "Tall Tales" began as a pantomime strip--no words--which made it popular internationally. A syndicate executive insisted that Jaffee add captions because, he said, "Americans don't like wordless cartoons." In the preface to his book, Jaffee wrote, "I reluctantly acquiesced and, as a result, the words went in and my foreign clients went away," as did the strip shortly after.

I think that background gives the piece some interesting history and texture. Mr. Jaffee would have preferred his strip to remain wordless but it's still a great gag, beautifully drawn. And it comes preloaded with a story.

Ex Libris

How We Spent Our Weekend: Building a bookcase wall for our daughters. I designed it. Saturday was sawing, nailing, gluing and screwing it together; Sunday was trimming, spackling, painting, and sitting back and admiring. We didn't install the two light fixtures, they were already on the wall and we worked around them. I plussed it with a color-changing LED strip on top. 

While I worked on this project, Karen set up an herb-drying facility (mostly a clothes line in a basement, but it's cool!) and did a ton of landscaping. Robin and Laura worked everywhere needed. In the end, it took all of us to polish off the library. 

We have a saying in our family: It's not a real project until Brian bleeds. This was a real project. Luckily, I kept my trivial sanguinary drips off the fresh paint and carpet. I love doing something real that's going to be around a while. Good productive weekend.

No, you can't afford me.

Rocketeer Update

After weeks of wrestling with the unhelpful tech wizards at eBay, the Cartoon Art Museum has kicked off its big summer tribute to the Rocketeer by Dave Stevens with an art auction. You may recall that I inked and watercolored a large (12 x 36 inches!) drawing to raise funds for CAM and the Hairy Cell Leukemia Foundation, which researches the disease that killed Stevens. 

CAM is auctioning off a few pieces per week and I've been told that mine will go under the hammer (that's auction talk!) in late August. Obviously they're saving the best for last. Meanwhile, look at the work being auctioned now and in coming weeks, including some by famous syndicated and comic book cartoonists. Other events will include art exhibitions and guest speakers. 

I'll be sure to let everyone know when mine comes around. Just try to shut me up. 

This is mine. Ink and watercolor on watercolor paper, 12 x 36 inches (30 x 91 cm).

Supermansplaining

My friend Denis St. John and his pal David Yoder do a podcast called "Supermansplaining," and for its big 50th episode they asked me on to talk about The Last Mechanical Monster. So I did.

The idea of the podcast is that Denis is a cartoonist who hasn't really read much Superman, so each week David (who's also a cartoonist) describes a Superman comic to Denis and they discuss it. I think it's a fun idea, especially since some of the old Superman comics got pretty weird. "Well, in this issue, Jimmy Olson turns into a giant turtle-man...." My visit stretched the format a bit.

If 67 minutes of me blabbing isn't too much--and I understand if it is--I think we had a good talk about The Last Mechanical Monster, my work and approach to comics in general, how I decided my story was fantasy rather than science fiction, character development, worldbuilding, and much more, and I recommend a listen. 

Denis and David are smart and fun, and we had a good time. Thanks for the invitation, guys!

The Dial of Destiny

Last night we saw "Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny" with our daughters. Safe to say that Indy was a huge influence on our girls when they were kids--one went into archaeology and the other into museum studies; they joke that they grew up to be Indy and his museum pal Brody. Good news: we all liked it a lot.

What struck me from a storytelling perspective is that it's ABOUT something. To avoid spoilers, I'll illustrate with an example from what most people consider one of the best "Star Trek" movies, "Wrath of Khan." IMO, what makes that movie beloved is that it's not really about a space battle, it's about Kirk feeling old and obsolete, finding that he still has a purpose, and learning that you can be good and clever but still lose. Despite the sci-fi setting and trappings, that's real. It's a subtext that resonates.

Similarly, "The Wizard of Oz" isn't really a story about a girl who gets whisked by a tornado to a magical land. It's about a farm kid in the middle of nowhere who yearns to experience the wider world and eventually masters it with the guidance of new mentors and friends. So is "Star Wars." *

(* Obligatory "Hero's Journey" footnote to save you the trouble of pointing it out.)

Not every story needs a subtext. Some provide fine entertainment being no more than exactly what they appear to be. But "Dial of Destiny" is about more than it appears to be about, which I think makes it deeper, richer, and kind of a standout among current movies in general. Other movies have as much action and chases and CGI spectacle. I thought "Dial" had an unusual amount of heart. 

Cartooning Corner

Cartoonists' Pro Tip: Keep your bottle of indelible waterproof India ink in a ceramic planter saucer or similar wide, shallow container in anticipation of the day you inevitably knock it over.

I learned that lesson at some expense many years ago, when I ruined a wall-to-wall carpet. I don't recall knocking over a bottle of ink since--until today, when my saucer saved a very large piece of art, a table, my pants, and the floor below us from permanent emblackening and eternal ruin. Note the shiny puddle drying in the saucer.

If you're a cartoonist who has gone all-digital, feel free to ignore this tip, although I would still suggest positioning a medium-size neodymium magnet beneath your computer monitor to capture any excess electrons that spill out of it.

Back in Blue and Gold

Inside the Rec Hall/Pavilion/University Credit Union Center. Hasn't changed a bit.

Wallowing in some nostalgia this weekend, as Karen and I returned to our alma mater, the University of California, Davis, to watch our future niece-in-law, Charlene, celebrate her MBA graduation. Forty years ago, when Karen and I graduated in this arena, it was called the "Rec Hall." By the time our girls graduated in the same arena, they'd built a new recreation hall so they called it the "Pavilion." In the years since then, UCD sold the naming rights so today it's the "University Credit Union Center." It's still the exact same brutalist concrete blockhouse as ever. 

The campus has built up a lot since I went there, but the dorm where Karen and I met still stands about 100 yards away. I saw my old observatory atop another building about 100 yards the other way. A lot of good things happened within a 100-yard circle of where I was standing on Saturday. Including Charlene's graduation!

My nephew, Brian, and his brilliant betrothed, Charlene.

My Reuben Award

If you ever get a chance to do a favor for Karen Green, don't hesitate! 

Karen, the curator of comics and cartoons at Columbia University, is teaching a class on comics and asked me to Zoom in last week to talk about color in storytelling--not just coloring the sky blue and grass green, but using color as a narrative tool to deliver information and evoke emotion. Since all of my graphic novels have had a different approach to color, I leaped at the chance to drone about it! I also touched on the historical methods and limitations of printing color comics, and showed examples of old comics that I thought used color in especially interesting ways. I think my 90-minute talk went well and the students were smart and terrific.

Well, today I got a box from Karen ice-packed with all the bread, meat, cheese, pickles and condiments I need to make perfect Reuben sandwiches straight from Katz's famous deli in New York! Holy Cannoli! As I told Karen when I thanked her, she had no way of knowing that Reubens are my favorite sandwich, going back to when my Mom and I used to make them when I was a kid. It was kind of our quiet thing, and I still judge new restaurants by sampling their Reuben. 

It was an unexpected, unnecessary, but very kind and thoughtful gift. Thanks very much, Karen! I owe you a thousand.

Great Power, Not So Great Responsibility

Reading the many tributes to the late comic book artist John Romita Sr., whose influential work I admired very much, a lighter realization with universe-shattering implications dawned on me. 

Romita once drew my friends, Wendy and Richard Pini, into a Ghost Rider comic book written by Tony Isabella. Ghost Rider knows the Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, the Avengers. This puts me two degrees of separation from everyone in the Marvel Universe.

Likewise, writer Louise Simonson and artist John Bogdanove wrote my friend and editor, Charles Kochman, into their Superman comic books. In fact, Charlie edits Clark Kent's novels, which means Superman and I share the same editor (which genuinely delights me!). This puts me two degrees of separation from everyone in the DC Universe.

You see where I'm going with this. There's a possibility that I am some sort of multiverse nexus, a portal bridging different realities, which could make me the most powerful and dangerous being in existence. If aliens or time travelers suddenly appear to blast me into atoms, you'll know why.

WHAM-O!

I saw this on a friend's feed this morning and it made me laugh: the fine folks who make Styrofoam once sent MAD Magazine a scary lawyer letter and MAD turned it into a joke. That took some guts.

Way back when I was a newspaper reporter, I got a nearly identical scary lawyer letter from the WHAM-O corporation because I'd written an article about the sport of "Frisbee Golf." That's what the official rules called it, that's what the participants called it, that's what the signs on the course called it, so that's what I called it. WHAM-O, which manufactures Frisbees, insisted that in all future articles the sport must be referred to as "Plastic Flying Disc Golf," and asked for an editorial retraction/correction. We ignored the latter, and since the sport was unlikely to be covered by our paper again, we ignored the former as well. It still made my pulse quicken to know that WHAM-O lawyers were watching my every move.

I understand that companies have to protect their trademarks, lest they become the common names for things they aren't, like . . . well, like all the examples given in MAD's cheeky reply. I also did not know that plastic foam containers, cups, plates, etc. are not actually made of official Styrofoam brand foam products, or at least they weren't in 1990. So I think we've all learned a valuable lesson today.

Stevenson

The mighty Columbia. The beauty of the Gorge is hard to capture in a photo. It's impossible not to stand on its banks and think, "This is the same magnificent landscape that Lewis and Clark saw." Minus the towns and bridges and buildings and stuff.

I'm killing a little time in Stevenson, Washington this morning before heading home after my marathon "Fire Story" day yesterday. As you may recall, the local library system chose my book as their Community Read for the year and invited me to visit. I gave two morning talks and workshops for high schoolers, two afternoon talks and workshops for middle schoolers, and an evening community lecture. It all went great!

First, the Columbia River Gorge is an exceptionally beautiful slice of the planet. Second, Stevenson is a little town full of nice people--I had a meal in a brewpub in which I swear everyone but me were all friends with everyone else and their dogs--and, true to form, librarians are the nicest people of all. Third, they seem to raise their kids right; at least the groups I talked to were attentive and respectful, except for a table of four middle school boys whom I won over in the end by inscribing their "Fire Story" copies with their names followed by "Chicken-ass," which they thought was hilarious. It's an inside joke, you had to be there.

I didn't take many photos because I'm traveling solo and was working most of the time. A long day--I pretty much lost my voice by the end of it--but folks in this fire-scarred region really seemed to appreciate my story and message. It's been a wonderful trip. Now I get to go home.

I started my day at the library, entering through a side door before business hours to be greeted by my poster. They were kind enough to give me one to take home.

The first two workshops were held in the library's art gallery space. This is a group of kids from the private Pacific Crest Innovation Academy working on making a comic strip. After talking with two groups of 14 sharp students, I asked one of the teachers how many kids the school has. "Twenty-eight." "Twenty-eight? In the whole school?" "Yep." "You mean I just met ALL of them?!" "Yep."

One of the fire-themed pieces of artwork on display in the gallery. I liked this one.

Another piece of fire-themed art, this one inspired by the passage in "A Fire Story" in which I wrote about having three keys that didn't do anything anymore but I couldn't bear to part with them. I'm honored. By the way, I still have the keys.

Lunch with my hosts, the Friends of the Library. My main contact was librarian David Wyatt, sitting across from me. Very nice people.

Getting ready for my afternoon sessions at Wind River Middle School. A bit more raucous than the older kids in the morning, but their teacher seemed impressed by how well I held their attention.

Librarian David Wyatt preparing to introduce me. We had about 30 people turn out, which I was assured was great for an event like this in a town this size. I spoke for about an hour and we had a long Q&A after, ranging from whether my family and I huddled and wept after the fire (not really) to updated building codes.

Cruise ships ply the mighty Columbia and I happened by when one was docked at Stevenson. This might be a nice trip to take sometime.

Skamania County Reads

In the unlikely event you're near the town of Stevenson, Washington in the Columbia River Gorge on Thursday night, I will be there too and you should come say "Hi." The friends of the local library system chose A Fire Story as this year's "Skamania County Reads" book, which means they've distributed copies of it and held events like book groups, art exhibits, and fire safety seminars leading up to my visit.

I'm scheduled to give four comics-making workshops for students from two local schools in the morning and afternoon, followed by a community talk at Hegewald Auditorium at 6 p.m. That's a lot packed into one day, but I'm game. 

You may recall I did a similar event last year in Hood River, Oregon, which is a few miles upstream and on the opposite bank of the Columbia from Stevenson. The Eagle Creek Fire scoured the Gorge at just about the same time my fire tore through Sonoma County in 2017, so both towns thought my book was a good fit for their local concerns. Also, the Stevenson folks flat out told me they'd noticed what Hood River did last year and basically said, "Hey, we should get that guy." And so they did.

Having a book named a "community read" or "book in common" is an enormous honor for me. The idea that a library or college finds something I wrote interesting and relevant enough to ask everyone to read it is amazing. I didn't even know such things existed when I started writing books, but it's one of the most gratifying benefits of the job. Both Fire Story and Mom's Cancer have been so honored. I'm proud of that.