Welcome to the new blog, same as the old blog.
Except, y’know, with (hopefully) more frequent updates.
So, if you’re a fan of my work in the field of comics, you’ve most likely heard the news that I’m no longer doing work for DC. I’m told that speculation is flying fast and furious as to why this is, and apparently, even despite my on-the-record comments, it continues.
There is no drama here, folks. It is as it appears. I’m stepping away from DC to pursue different opportunities. Nothing more nefarious than that. Nothing less sinister. Time is a commodity that is as precious to me as it is rare, and there’s simply not enough of it.
I’ve been at Wondercon this weekend, doing the convention thing, and today, on a panel, the question came up – and I paraphrase – How did you come to write comics? Was that always your intention, your plan? Answers varied, but – and there is a point to this – here’s mine:
I didn’t set out to write comics, per se. Nor did I didn’t set out to write novels. Or short-stories. Or stage-plays, or screenplays, or teleplays, or haiku.
What I did, see, was set out to tell stories. And somewhere along the line, I acquired the skill-set that allowed me to have the luxury of picking and choosing the medium to serve the tale. Some stories are better served by the collaboration an artist and I can bring to the table. Others are best realized by myself, working alone with words that bend and sway and sometimes – sometimes! – do what I ask of them to do.
I write comics – note the tense, please – because I love the medium, and I love the stories I can tell within the form. I love novels for the same reason, and am rapidly falling in love with television and screen for the exact same reasons. I’m flirting with video games, because, more than ever, I feel that the medium is on the verge of wedding entertainment with art to create a truly interactive catharsis.
I tell stories. That’s what I do. Sometimes I’m blessed, and I get it right; the story resonates and sings, and the recipient is moved by it, and he or she carries it forth and shares it with the world around them, and it is greater than the sum of its parts. Sometimes I fail, the tale falters, my execution flounders, and even my best intentions leave nothing but the taste of ashes in your mouth.
But it’s what I do. I’m not going to stop. I’m not sure I could even if I wanted to.
All I’m doing in stepping away from DC is carving time to tell the stories that have been whispering in the back of my mind for years. The last Carrie Stetko story. The next case for Dex Parios. The story of a family’s service to their country, told over two hundred years. The woman in blue. The other one, looking for a soul. The kids who take what they’re told. The killer who guards a park. The soldiers forever at war. The spy with one wound too many.
Now, you’ll excuse me…I’m going to get to work.
Hope you’ll stick around to hear the tales.
