Write Club: 16

You might remember that right before I started my second bout with illness, I’d sent off a couple of HARLOW’S END proposal packets to Antarctic Press and (I think) DC Comics. In late November of ’97, I received a reply from Herb Mallette, then Editor-In-Chief of Antarctic Press.

It was indeed a rejection letter, but perhaps the nicest rejection letter I could ever hope to get. Herb had some ego-boosting things to say:

You manage to pull off quite a juggling act in the conceptual complexity of your setting and the size and distinctiveness of your cast. I also found Elijah’s character very appealing and well-designed as narrator – your trick of not revealing his “occupation” until halfway through the issue gives it more impact once it’s made known.

Herb goes on to explain the strikes HARLOW’S END had against it – it’s a science fiction-based story (which is true, I suppose, but only marginally), it’s by an unknown writer (that would be me), and it would need a super artist to deliver its full potential. The bottom line was, without a huge promotional push and/or a big name artist, he didn’t think the book would sell more than 2000 books a month – and Antarctic couldn’t chance that given the state of the 1997 market.

He was also kind enough to give me some constructive criticism, most importantly this:

Work up a really strong pitch paragraph for future cover letters or as a cover sheet to the character profile section. I was left flat by the profiles and synopses, and if I hadn’t read the full script (which editors don’t always do), I would have dismissed the project out of hand. You need a concise introduction to the series that will grab an editor with some of the personality and atmosphere that you’ve invested in the script, in order to guarantee that they WILL read the script.

I still have that problem to this day – I can’t seem to write a gripping paragraph about what HARLOW’S END is about. Sci-fi meets voodoo? Well, sorta. BLADE RUNNER in an alternate-reality New Orleans? Eh, kinda. A kid who comes to terms with his super-powers? Yeah, I suppose.

Herb went on to wish me luck, suggesting I might consider pitching for another Antarctic Press book, like ROBOTECH. Unfortunately, I had some other stuff going on that prevented me from giving that much thought.

Still, I felt chuffed – sure, it was a rejection, but it gave me a lot of hope. If he could see the potential in HARLOW’S END, someone else would!

(I never did get anything back from DC – not a rejection letter, not my proposal returned in the SASE I enclosed, nada. I wonder if I really DID send a HARLOW’S END packet to them, after all. I’m sure Antarctic couldn’t have been the only company I submitted to, but they were the only response I got back. Ah, well… that’s what I get for sending out proposals while on painkillers.)

Also during that hazy fall of ’97, I received a stellar sketch from Jim Cheung (now artist of CrossGen’s SCION). I had written him after I saw his IRON MAN work (during the best-forgotten “Tony the Teenager” storyline). He e-mailed me back and agreed to do a sketch for me. Of course, “sketch” is an understatement. The package arrived while I was in intensive care, and Michail and my parents brought it to me at the hospital.

I tell ya – Jimmy’s illustration of Elijah, Lilith, and Absalom did wonders for my mood (even viewed through my hazy veil of drugs). Jim’s been one of my favorite artists ever since – I’ve followed him from MAVERICK to X-FORCE to SCION. (If you want a challenge, dig out your back issues of MAVERICK and X-FORCE and look for my name written as graffiti!)

It also helped that Jim is just an all-around groovy guy – certainly one of the nicest people I’ve met in the industry. Plus, he’s British (extra credit points if you remember my UK obsession!).

Next: Gettin’ into DIGITAL WEBBING PRESENTS.

Write Club: 15

A hole in my trachea. This was a really weird thing that no one had seen before, apparently. And it was an urgently life-threatening sort of problem. Thankfully, I had an amazing surgeon, Dr. Haasler, who was able to formulate a plan of attack, after consulting some pals at the Mayo Clinic and other institutions around the country. Dr. Haasler would patch up the hole (or fistula) in my trachea with tissue from my abdominal cavity, then cover it all up with the omentum (an abdominal membrane that would help promote healing).

I knew, deep down, that my chances weren’t great, looking back. But I lied to myself, and said that this was nothing – a breeze! And I do think, without question, that a positive attitude has made all the difference in everything I’ve been through. But I’m writing these words today, so obviously this experimental procedure worked. In fact, my trachea was a star – the subject of a video and medical journal article. (Talk about getting your “15 minutes” the hard way!)

I was now the proud owner of another scar – a big vertical one from my neck all the way down past my belly button. One benefit of the procedure is that with my chest wide open, they were able to really dig around in that mass of tissue, and after a biopsy, finally figure out who the culprit was behind all these shenanigans – the cancer was back.

It was agreed that we’d need to attack the cancer as soon as possible, but I was far too weak to undergo chemo again. So, a few weeks after my surgery, I started radiation therapy to my chest. And a few weeks after that, I began chemo again. In the midst of it all, I had a nurse visiting me at home every couple days, foul breathing treatments I had to inhale, IV antibiotics I had to plug into my arm every day… But I gotta give props to Michail and my parents, who were lifesavers, literally. I don’t know what I would have done without them (or the antidepressants).

My oncologist, Dr. Vesole, had decided that I’d need a bone marrow transplant if I was gonna beat this thing. Not the kind where you get someone else’s marrow, but an autologous transplant. They’d pump all my blood through a machine which would filter out and store the marrow (or stem) cells, which would be frozen. Then, they’d give me a super massive dose of chemo, which would theoretically wipe out the cancer, but also wipe out me. Then those popsicled cells would be given back to me, and help me get in shape again.

So I had my stem cells sucked out of me and put on ice. I’d been trying to convince my doctor that I was strong enough to fly to San Diego for the ’98 Comic-Con – and amazingly, he let me. We’d complete the transplant after I got back. I think he knew that I needed that trip. For a few days, I wandered around the con, my bald head covered by a bucket hat, getting more HARLOW’S END sketches for my collection. (Special thanks to Brandon McKinney and Chuck Wojtkiewicz, who were especially cool that year.)

After I got back, Dr. Vesole had some bad news – we’d go through with the transplant if I wanted, but he didn’t expect that it would get rid of the cancer. He suggested that I think about living the rest of my life chemo-free, so I could be as comfortable as possible.

Whoa, that was pretty scary. I immediately decided that first of all, I would take a chance on the transplant. I had beaten the odds so many times, what was one more? And, more importantly, I would have my doctor write George Lucas to ask if I could see the unfinished version of STAR WARS: EPISODE I! (No kidding – that was one of my first concerns.)

The day before my megadose of chemo, Dr. Vesole order a series of tests – CT scans and Gallium scans (where they inject you with radioactive dye and see how it travels around your body – if it gets “clogged” anywhere, that’s where the cancer is.) When the results came back, it was nothing short of a miracle – the cancer had up and gone. Vamoosed. Abandoned ship.

I don’t think anyone knows how to explain it, least of all me. But like I said, I had been almost 100% positive about the whole cancer thing since ’91, and I know that didn’t hurt. I had amazing support and love from Michail, my family, and friends. And maybe, somewhere, the fates had decided that I’d been through enough.

To be safe, I would continue my chemotherapy well into ’99, although I was able to return to work. For a while, I didn’t even mind my big bald head.

Next: Back to writing, I promise.

Write Club: 13

I immediately knew why the San Diego Comic-Con was so many people’s favorite con – the weather! I don’t care what you say; nowhere has better weather than San Diego. And when you’re by the convention center, with the breeze blowing in off the bay… or getting insulted while sitting outside at Dick’s Last Resort in the Gaslamp Quarter – it’s heaven.

Anyway, I gawked at the size of the convention (which continues to amaze me, since it seems to grow exponentially each year), but I was on a mission… get my Mike Wieringo sketch, no matter what it took. My secondary goal was to get as many other cool sketches as I could. I’d recently taken out a loan to buy a new computer (a Power Computing Mac clone… which seemed like a good idea at the time), and I had a buncha bucks left over… which I did a pretty good job spending.

I commissioned Matt Haley to do an Elijah/Lilith sketch for me – and this time I was armed with character sketches and descriptions for him. He gave me a tightly-penciled rendition of Elijah subtly smirking at Lilith – one of my all-time favorite renditions of my HARLOW’S END protagonist.

Terry Dodson (who had not yet worked with Kevin Smith) drew a mega-sized illustration of the duo, giving Lilith big Dodson-esque feminine lips. Michael Lark, of DC/Vertigo fame, drew a little sketch of a pensive Elijah. Cover artist extraordinaire Dave Johnson did a great job on the cyborg zombie, Absalom. And Joe Phillips, artist on the TIMBER WOLF miniseries and his own HERETIC, concocted an amazing inked illo of Elijah in action – energy swirling, gris-gris bag flying, shirt billowing.

But I was starting to get worried – I still didn’t have my coveted Wieringo sketch! If I remember correctly, he didn’t even have a table in Artist’s Alley, and I wasn’t sure how I’d even find him.

But I did find ‘Ringo eventually, sitting at an abandoned table doing free sketches for a long line of fans. I got in the line, and watched Mike do quick Spider-Man sketches for everyone (since he was drawing SENSATIONAL SPIDER-MAN at the time). When I got to the front, I mentioned who I was, and he remembered me – he proceeded to look at my little thumbnails and did an awesome interpretation of Elijah, spending far more time on it than on any of the Spidey sketches. My trip was complete!

(All the sketches from ’96 and beyond can be seen in the HARLOW’S END Gallery section of my site, www.psychoengine.com.)

Over the years, I’ve been fortunate to have a lot more artists draw my HARLOW’S END characters. Some I’ve met at cons, some I’ve gotten through the mail, and some I’ve hooked up with on Digital Webbing. I have to say it’s a great motivator to see people draw my characters – it makes me want to sit down and write more stories about them!

And I did… I revised scripts, plotted new issues, and tried to get HARLOW’S END to a place where I thought it would be ready to submit to comic companies. I even had a great idea to set my submission aside from all the others – include HARLOW’S END “trading cards,” with reduced versions of all the sketches I’d gotten. When I wrapped ‘em up with the synopses, script, and character outlines in a spiffy artwork-laden folder, it looked cooool!

My memory’s a bit hazy, but I think I decided to only submit to a couple companies at first – DC Comics, because they were my favorite publisher, and Antarctic Press, because I just liked their “vibe” in general. There might have been one or two more, but I think that was it at first. I mailed the packages off and eagerly awaited the responses.

As you might remember, I had survived a battle with Hodgkin’s Disease (cancer of the lymph nodes), but seemed to have vanquished it by 1993. Here it was 1997, and I still needed regular visits to the oncologist to make sure that the cancer didn’t come sneaking back.

There were no outward signs, but CT scans showed a mass of stuff in my chest. It was most likely a conglomeration of scar tissue, which was a natural result of the chemotherapy. But just to be safe, my doctor wanted to have a surgeon go in there and poke around to make sure there were no enlarged lymph nodes.

So, in the summer of 1996, they cut a spot open on the left side of my chest and did some investigating. Some tissue was pulled out and biopsied, but it came back negative. In 1997, shortly before I went to San Diego, the oncologist was again concerned by that mass in my chest – so it was decided that they’d do a more invasive procedure, cutting open my sternum for better access to my chest cavity.

The surgery was scheduled upon my return from San Diego. Because it was a procedure of some magnitude, I needed to have a couple of weeks off work. Everything went just fine – no complications, and again, the biopsy was negative. But I was laid up on the couch for a while, although I was able to use some of that time to get my HARLOW’S END submission packets ready and send them out.

The problem was, I never seemed to fully heal from the surgery. I had gone back to work, but I wasn’t at full strength. I also seemed to be coughing quite a bit. Finally, one Sunday night, I was coughing so much that I could hardly breathe. A visit to the Emergency Room seemed like a good idea.

Next: Out of the frying pan…

Write Club: 14

I wanna mention that I’m talking about my cancer as a way to illustrate how our “real lives” sometimes get in the way of our writing... though sometimes our lives end up providing the best fodder for our self-expression. I feel compelled to say that because I wouldn’t want someone to think that this is a column about being a cancer survivor – or an effort to have people feel sorry for me. I’m just trying to put my experiences in the proper context and perspective.

(And although I realize this column is a downer, remember – it all has a happy ending, baby!)

So, remember that I just had pretty invasive surgery to investigate a mass in my chest. The part they biopsied came back benign, but I had difficulty getting back to full speed after the surgery. This led to a coughing attack and a frenzied trip to the Emergency Room.

I have to mention that my memory of some the following events is hazy, for a multitude of reasons. I’m not a doctor, and didn’t always know what people were talking about. I was often on a lot of drugs (oh, just wait ‘til I tell ya about my hallucinations – I’m still figuring out how to work them into a story). And finally, I suspect there are some things that I don’t particularly want to remember.

They told me that fluid had collected around my heart, and that a needle would be stuck in to drain it. Okay, seemed like no big deal. I spent the next few days in Intensive Care, and was eventually deemed strong enough to get a regular room.

I remember this part vividly – I was feeling okay, eating the delicious hospital dinner, watching DEEP SPACE NINE – and suddenly wasn’t able to breathe. Yeah, pretty much just like that. In my panic, I didn’t even remember about the nurse’s call button – I instead started to throw utensils and dishes into the hallway to get the nurse’s attention. Luckily, it worked.

They called that “respiratory arrest.” I came to with a hole cut in my throat and on a respirator. Turns out my lungs were simply frothy with mucus “plugs,” and that I had sepsis. (Sepsis is the medical term for a really fuckin’ awful bacterial infection that puts your body in shock, generally occurring when someone’s immune system is compromised.) One of my lungs was barely working, in fact – the result of a partially collapsed artery.

I spent the next six weeks or so in Intensive Care, floating in and out of consciousness, and giving everyone constant frights, since it seemed that I kept coming as close to dying as you possibly could without actually going into that white light. Oh, and the highlight – my ass had to be wiped for me.

Like I said, I was on a lot of drugs. For a while, I had a nurse with a French accent – this led me to believe that I was serving in the Foreign Legion. Then, I thought that I was being taken away in the dead of night so that terrible experiments could be performed on me. But by far the best hallucinatory experience was being into slavery to provide entertainment aboard a cruise ship whose passengers included Dionne Warwick. Yeah, there’s got to be a story or two in there somewhere.

But I got stronger. I was taken off the respirator, had the tube taken out of my throat, the feeding tube taken out of my stomach, and the wee-wee tube taken out of my wee-wee. I had a procedure done to insert a stent, or tiny tube, into my pulmonary artery to restore the blood flow to my compromised lung.

I remember being pissed that I had Rip Van Winkled my way through Fall, my favorite season. Funny what we fixate on, huh?

Eventually, I was strong enough to be sent to my parent’s house, and in January ’98, I again returned to work. But something still wasn’t right. As far as I know, no one had come up with a cause for all the stuff I had recently dealt with, so it was difficult to know if I was “cured.” As I was finding myself frequently short of breath, I went back to the doctor. Turns out, I had a hole in my trachea.

Next: Where No Trachea Has Gone Before, or, The Omentum Momentum

Write Club: 12

I was on a mission to have my HARLOW’S END characters drawn by pro artists (credit where credit is due to Jim Krueger for the idea).

The first convention I attended after having my bright idea was the 1996 Chicago Comic-Con. That was back before it was magically transformed into WizardWorld, of course. Armed with my newfound knowledge that professional artists might indeed draw my own characters, I stalked up and down Artist’s Alley, sizing up each table.

I’d hung out quite a bit in Artist’s Alley the year before, getting a cool Robin sketch from Gordon Purcell, and a rendition of the animated Robin from Rick Burchett. (I sorta collect Robin-related stuff. You should see my groovaricious Boy Wonder animation cel from SUPERFRIENDS) It was easy to ask for established characters, but for some reason, I was a little nervous to ask an established pro to sketch my own creations.

(Yeah, yeah, I know… what were they gonna say? “Why would I waste my time on your puny ideas?!” in a Hulk-like voice? But I’d never done this before, so cut me a little slack.) In fact, I learned that virtually all artists love to draw something different, especially when you give them a bit of leeway to create their own interpretation.

I came across Neil Vokes, who’d always been a favorite of mine – he’d recently done some great work for Topps Comics on JACK KIRBY’s TEENAGENTS. I knew he could draw teen characters well, so all signs pointed to “yes” – Vokes was the guy! I approached him and sheepishly asked if he’d draw Elijah and Lilith for me, and he was quite happy to accommodate me.

I wasn’t well prepared, however – I hadn’t thought to bring any of the scribbles that I had done of my protagonists. So I was forced to eke out some on-the-fly drawings so that Neil would sort of know what I wanted. After that was done, I left Neil on his own, promising I’d stop back. (Of course I would!)

Truth is, I couldn’t help stopping back every few minutes, it seemed. I probably annoyed the hell out of him as I surreptitiously peered over his shoulder, occasionally throwing out tidbits of advice (“Elijah’s hair isn’t long in the back,” and such).

Eventually, it was done… and when I finally saw the completed illustration (I hated to think of it as a mere sketch), I gaped at it open-mouthed. It was like that overused technique in “avant garde” TV shows where the camera swooshes in circles around a character (complete with swooshing sound effects), ultimately zooming in on their slack-jawed expression. That was me.

Neil had somehow breathed life into Elijah and Lilith – true, they seemed “real” enough inside my head, but this was different. They now “existed”… drawn by a PROFESSIONAL ARTIST! I was so thrilled with Neil’s conception of the characters, I even gave him a tip!

After the convention, I started to wonder if I might be able to pay some other artists to do sketches for me, and send them through the mail. I started with Gordon Purcell, who did that Robin sketch for me, and had done superb work on virtually all of STAR TREK’s comic incarnations. He was quite receptive to the idea, and was able to spend far more time on the illustration than he would have been able to at a convention. It turned out more like a cover than anything else, and it was even on actual cover stock, too!

I’d been lucky enough to find the e-mail address of one of my favorite artists, Mike Wieringo, and asked him about the possibility of a sketch. He said that he’d be happy to do a sketch, but I’d have to catch him at a convention – and the next convention he’d be doing was the 1997 San Diego Comic-Con. Since I was in Wisconsin, that wasn’t exactly next door.

As I felt sorry for myself, lamenting the fact that I’d never get a Wieringo sketch, Michail (my significant other-type person) said, “Why don’t we go to San Diego?” I’d heard such amazing things about the convention, so why not? We did some research, booked airline tickets and a room at the Wyndham Emerald Plaza, and we were set to go!

Next: My first trip to San Diego, and more artist encounters!

Write Club: 11

After my experience pitching for STAR TREK, I had made the decision to shift gears and write something totally different – not TREK, and not something for television.

I dusted off the beginnings of a novel I had begun a couple years before – my attempt at a “raw” style of no-holds-barred writing. As I explained last time, I had wanted to emulate my hero, Stephen King, but as I reviewed the pages I’d written, I realized I failed spectacularly.

But waitaminnit… maybe the best place to tell the tale of Elijah wasn’t a novel, but a comic! I’d wanted to write comics since I was a kid – maybe this was the right idea, finally!

That seemed to be the breakthrough I needed. I did a bit of research on the proper format for a comic book script – and quickly found that there were many different – yet “right” – ways to do it. But having mastered the specific format required for a STAR TREK script, I thought comics must be easy!

Indeed, the format wasn’t hard to adapt to, although I needed a pointer or two. I had e-mailed John Ney Rieber a couple of times, and he was kind enough to offer me some pointers. (Today, John’s the uber-hot writer of Marvel’s Captain America – back then, he was spinning great yarns in DC/Vertigo’s Books of Magic.)

John offered me some pointers on constructing the first scene of my story, where Elijah observes a murder scene (also told in a different structure in the first couple of pages of the HARLOW’S END story in DIGITAL WEBBING PRESENTS #3):

When you're trying to convince an editor that he or she wants your story, you need to hook them right off the bat: you have to draw them in with the first sentence, and keep some real and unremitting tension on the line thereafter, to keep their interest from wriggling away. And here, although you do seem to have scattered a respectable number of hooks throughout the scene, I really don't have the feeling that your hooks are as sharp as you could make them, or baited as enticingly as you could bait them. I intuit that you're doing a lot of setup for revelations later on, which is certainly a worthwhile activity, but you need to say a little more right here and now.

Great advice, and something I always try to keep in mind. John also helped me with the script structure and the tricky nature of word balloons:

Note that editors start to get nervous if they see more than thirty-five words of captioning and dialogue in a panel. That doesn't mean that they won't let you use forty, eventually...but it's a good idea to keep the word count under that, if you can--especially when you're trying to break in, and you want to do everything you can to give the editor in question the impression that you really know what you're doing.

Another thing: rather than run one twenty-nine word caption in a panel, run one nineteen-word one and one ten-word one, or something like that. Split the caption. This is a good way to create tension within a panel. And it also makes it easier for the editor to figure out where on the finished page to place your caption; it's easier to position two medium-sized caption boxes on a piece of art than it is to position one huge one.

Before long, I’d finished the first draft of my script, taking John’s suggestions to heart. Issue one of … gee, what was it gonna be called? I had mentally referred to the novel as “Elijah,” after the main character, but never expected that to be the final title.

While writing the script, I found myself jotting many side notes about the city Elijah inhabited, especially the slum neighborhood in which he actually lived. That was an intriguing place that had many dramatic elements – sex, drugs, disease, religion, magic. Once I decided to name the series after its location, the name HARLOW’S END came to me. I have no idea what inspired it, but it had a certain ring to it. HARLOW’S END it was.

Since Elijah was a hustler, it was evident from the start that this would be a “mature readers” title. I didn’t want to have gratuitous nudity, but since Elijah’s best friend, Lilith, was a stripper, it wouldn’t be odd to see an occasional breast (or two, even). Every other word wouldn’t be a profanity, but Elijah lived on the street – he probably said “fuck” every now and then. And no matter how understatedly I portrayed his profession, he was a prostitute.

Over the next several months, I wrote full scripts for four issues of HARLOW’S END, and plotted a few more. My ideas for the series indeed worked better as a comic than a novel. I loved a lot of standard storytelling conventions in comics – for instance, the cliffhanger – and wanted to take advantage of them. (In my opinion, I think new ideas are great, but I don’t want to reinvent the wheel – I love comics because of the format, not in spite of it.)

I’m sometimes a decent artist, so I decided to visualize some of my characters. It was a lot of fun, and my sketches weren’t half-bad, but something was missing.

Back then, Jim Krueger had just released the first issue of Foot Soldiers, and in the back, he had a unique feature – sketches of his characters that professional artists had done of his characters. I suddenly had one of those moments where you almost say “d’oh!” aloud – why didn’t I get some artists to draw my HARLOW’S END characters?

Next: They’re alive! Alive!

Write Club: 10

Jumping back in time a bit… you’ll remember that I was a bit discouraged by my STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE pitching experience. (It probably wouldn’t have been so bad, but I had already been picturing my pitch sessions leading to a writing staff position, moving to Hollywood, all that cool stuff. I don’t dream small.)

But as down as I was on writing for STAR TREK, I still felt the need to write something. THE HIGH SEAS AND THE LOW BOATS was far from finished – in fact, I hadn’t touched it since my grandparents passed away. But somehow, the time wasn’t right for that tale.

In 1993, I had actually started working on another novel. THE HIGH SEAS AND THE LOW BOATS was a kid-friendly adventure, but I was also itching to write something dark. Something from the other side of the mental tracks, so to speak.

Like many people, one of my favorite authors is Stephen King. As a reader, his every word enthralls me; as a writer, his skill makes me insane with envy. King has balls. Huge ass balls. I don’t think there’s anything he’s scared to write, and that’s what makes him such a master storyteller.

Now, I don’t mean he’s not afraid to write about murderers, ghosts, and rabid dogs – he’s not, obviously. But he’s not scared of revealing himself in the process. He’s not frightened of laying his entrails out for us all to see. Do some people think he has a sick imagination? Sure… but that doesn’t stop him from writing.

Those hidden thoughts you think, but would never want anyone else to know? The things that secretly excite you? That dirty little memory of the time you… well, you know what you did. King isn’t scared of revealing any of those things – to you, to me, or even his sweet little grandmother. Balls, I tell you.

I wanted to write in that visceral style. Not necessarily a horror or suspense thriller, but something that could be a distant relative to a King tale. (Perhaps it would be the inbred hillbilly cousin, but still related.)

A couple other things were floating through my head. I wanted to create a futuristic, BLADE RUNNER-esque world. Having recently been to New Orleans, I wanted to incorporate the mystical, dangerous vibe of that city. And I wanted to make the reader root for an unsympathetic character.

I sat down at my trusty Mac and started writing. In my usual style, I had no outline, no characters in mind – I just wrote.

The first thing I typed:

PROLOGUE

i

“It’s over, Elijah.”
A languid drag on his Marlboro, once a luxury. Then: “Perhaps.”


ii

Dear Aneste,
I find a certain amount of satisfaction knowing that our friend has died. Call me callous; I won’t call you a liar. If only those who knew him like we did could understand. Some stars need to be snuffed out lest they incinerate their admirers. It is true that you were never as starstruck as I, but I know the obsession simmered within. I knew that obsession well.
I am leaving now.
Elijah


iii

Here it was, once again. The library.
Elijah breathed in deeply, inhaling the heady scent through his nostrils, mouth closed. Musty books vied with rotting corpses for olfactory supremacy. The stench of death: wasted lives, forgotten knowledge.
It disgusted him, and he remembered.

Now, who knows what the hell that all meant! I just thought it sounded cool. (That was my usual tendency – don’t worry if it made sense. Just write.) Looking back, it’s horribly overwrought and disgustingly pretentious (“some bit-too-obviously chosen words,” said my friend Scott after he read it). But it was a start.

Once I got into the first chapter, a kid named Elijah appeared on the page. Here was my unlikable protagonist. He was a potty-mouthed, arrogant, chain-smoking street kid… but that didn’t seem to be enough. I really didn’t want the reader to relate to him.

I’m not sure why, but I made him a hustler. A prostitute. Now, if that didn’t make him a hard character to warm up to, I didn’t know what else would! I don’t recall the exact inspiration, but I’m fairly sure that I saw “Where the Day Takes You” on video around that time, so that seems the likely source.

Now that I had my main character, the rest flowed… the city, the situation, all the rest. But I didn’t really know where to go with it. After several pages, I sorta gave up and set it aside. My pseudo-ADD had kicked in; it was time to jump into the next thing. Besides, it was nothing like Stephen King; no way, no how.

But that kid stuck in my mind. Somewhere in the back of my head, he grew into a person. And I knew I had to let him out.

Next: Harlow’s End.

Write Club: 9

Aside from not doing a good job of promoting myself, the rest of my San Diego trip was great. Each year, the convention seems to grow exponentially, in terms of both size and activities. I tried to plan in advance, but there were often two (or more) simultaneous presentations to which I wanted to go.

One of the highlights for me was the ALIAS discussion – that’s the kick-ass ABC-TV series, not the comic book. I think J.J. Abrams, the creator and writer of many ALIAS episodes, is extremely talented. Basically, he produces the one-hour equivalent to a big budget action movie each week. I can’t say that he gave me any great insight into the writing process, but it was cool hearing him talk. And I got him to sign my ALIAS cast photo!

I spent a little less time in Artist Alley than I usually do, probably because I had less money to spend on sketches this year. Still, I had a nice little visit with Neil Vokes, who draw a breathtaking IMPULSE sketch for Tyler, the middle school student I mentor. (Useless trivia: Neil was the very first person to draw HARLOW’S END characters. More on that in a later column.)

I also drooled over Terry Shoemaker’s LEGION OF SUPER-HEROES pages, gushing to him about how he’s one of my all-time favorite LEGION artists. Which is true – despite his short tenure, I thought he gave the Legionnaires a distinctive youthful style. He thanked me, but mentioned that I looked way too young to remember his LEGION run – which cemented his cool reputation in my book!

Terry offered to do a sketch for me, and while flipping through the HARLOW’S END ashcan, mentioned that Elijah looked like a fun character to draw. (Hey, I gave out another ashcan!) Unfortunately, he ran out of time, but he’s gonna mail me the sketch.

I made it a point to wander through the small press area a few times. I always like to support teeny-tiny books – granted, it’s a mixed bag quality-wise, but sometimes you happen upon a few gems. I picked up titles from half a dozen creators, and most were pretty cool.

Normally, I wouldn’t recommend comics in my column, but I have to highlight a couple of the aforementioned gems that I was turned onto in San Diego.

The first is NOBURBS, by Gary Ellis. It’s a poignant tale of middle school life that’s laugh-out-loud funny at times, crushingly serious at others. It’s mainly about two kids – golden boy Elliot and outcast Rudy – and how their lives intersect. I swear that Ellis was held back 20 years and is still in middle school now, or has a fantastic memory – because he gets every detail, every uncertain feeling that we had during those years. It’s all there, wrapped up in a unique 6 ¾” by 8” package.

The art is perfectly suited to the story. Depending on the mood, Ellis subtly alters his style to enhance the emotions of the characters. It’s a fantastic, hard-to-explain technique that I don’t recall seeing before.

You can get more information on NOBURBS from Gary Ellis at coma99@aol.com. Or write to Gary Ellis, Comatose Comics, 155 Costa Rica Ave., Burlingame, CA 94010. Trust me – you won’t be sorry.

I also highly recommend GARLANDS OF MOONLIGHT from Shoto Press (www.shotopress.com). Written by Jai Sen and illustrated by Rizky Wasisto Edi, it’s the story of an Indonesian village that seems to be haunted by a legendary creature. Marsiti, the village herbalist, is sure that a demon is responsible for recent murders in the village -- while Hidayat, an arrogant schoolteacher, is convinced that forces that are more conventional are to blame. I’m sorry – you’ll have to read it to appreciate the delicate layers of the story.

Printed in black-and-white, with the addition of silver ink, the 7” by 5” book looks top-notch, too. Edi wonderfully conveys the conflicting emotions of the characters, and the struggles of the villagers as the twentieth century reaches their home. The book is available for under $5 on their website and on amazon.com.

Next: Creating a world!

Write Club: 8

So far, I’ve been chronologically bringing you up to speed on the writing I’ve done in my life. I’m gonna jump a few years ahead to 2002 for a column or two, and then I’ll jump back to ’95. But I’d like to talk about my San Diego Comic-Con experience while it’s fresh in my mind.

I think my first comic convention was the Chicago Comic-Con in ’94 (before it was WizardWorld). In ’97, I went to my first San Diego con, and it was amazing. (An amusing aside: I went to San Diego because of Mike Wieringo. I had been bugging him to do a HARLOW’S END sketch for me, and he said he’d only have time at a con. So I figured “what the heck,” and flew from Wisconsin to California to get that sketch. And I did – you can see it in the HARLOW’S END Gallery section on my site.)

Every time I go to the San Diego Comic-Con (which I’m gonna abbreviate as “SDCC”), it’s as if I’m there for the first time. I still have that sense of wonder and amazement. I can only compare it to what’s now become WizardWorld-Chicago, but the SDCC is light years beyond the Chicago show. Every year, it’s new… but there’s also a comfortable familiarity. (Not to mention a fantastic location – wow!)

This year was a bit surreal – it was my first year attending as a pro. That basically meant I got free admission for me and a guest. In itself, that doesn’t seem too earth-shattering, I guess. But I got to walk around with a badge that said “pro” on it! And when I was waiting in the registration line, Mark Waid was in front of me. That’s right, Mark and I were in the same line – and I was supposed to be there! He was my professional peer! (Oh, okay – he’s got like a bazillion comic books under his belt, and I have, like, one-sixth… but let me have my moment.)

Before the con, I had printed up some HARLOW’S END ashcans, containing the story from DIGITAL WEBBING PRESENTS #3, character descriptions, plot synopses for the first four issues, and the full script for the first issue. Peppered throughout were many of the illustrations that pro artists have done for me over the years. I figured I’d hand it to as many editors as I could. Hell, someone was bound to love it!

That was a great idea in theory. And I stress the “in theory” part.

Fun fact about Doug: I’m sometimes kinda shy (at least when I’m sober). Friends of mine might laugh at that statement, but it’s true. Specifically, I have trouble with self-promotion. When I was sixteen, my mom kept bugging me to go into the local drugstore and ask for a job application – I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I dunno why, but that kind of thing is still very difficult for me sometimes.

But geez, what was the worst that could happen? They could say, “I’m sorry, but we don’t accept writing samples.” Big deal, right? But boy, would I feel stupid. So I gave out a grand total of one ashcan. One.

Yes, I mustered up enough courage to give a copy to COM.X. I like the production values of their books, and they’re British, so that automatically makes them cool to me. (Fun fact about Doug #2: I’m infatuated with all things British. I think I was meant to be born in London, and it was a cruel cosmic joke that I ended up in Wisconsin.) Still waiting to hear from them.

I did talk briefly to Dark Horse’s Chris Warner after a panel (Chris, if you’re reading this, I was that guy with the blue hair chasing after you as you were desperately trying to escape outside for your nicotine fix). He suggested that I send my work to him after the convention, as he feared he wouldn’t have time to read it and might even lose it.

I also attended an Image Comics panel, in which Jim Valentino and Eric Stephenson dispensed some really great tidbits. I realized that my ashcan contained all the things they wanted in a submission, but I heard Chris Warner’s voice in my head, and decided to submit through the mail later.

So, anyone want an ashcan?

Next: More convention fun.

Write Club: 7

Even after I returned from Hollywood, I was still flying high. What an experience! However, it was probably a good thing that I had to go back to work – otherwise, I would have been sitting by the phone, waiting for my call from the DEEP SPACE NINE guys.

Instead, I sat at my desk at work and called to check my voicemail every few minutes for a week.

Eventually, I got the call – they decided to pass on my pitch ideas. The producer, Ron Moore, was very encouraging, praising the overall quality of my pitches. But the fact remained, I FAILED.

Of course, every writer should be prepared for failure. But this was the first time that I failed as a writer. I tried to be philosophical – not many people got as far as I did, I did my best, blah blah blah. No matter how I looked at it, though, I wasn’t moving to Hollywood.

Still, I wasn’t disqualified from the race, was I? They said I could pitch again anytime… so what the hell? A short time later, I called good ol’ April to set up my next pitch session, for August ‘95. (Unfortunately, this one would have to be conducted over the phone – I couldn’t afford another jaunt to Los Angeles so soon after the next one).

Once again, I had to come up with some pitches. I’m not sure if I can describe the process. It usually started with a notebook in which I jotted down words, ideas, doodles… and ended up with me staring at the monitor night after night, trying to make some sense out of my scribbles.

I’d type a sentence, turn my attention to the TV, type something else, check my e-mail, type another line, surf the web… you get the idea. It’s always been difficult for me to stay focused. Even while I’m writing this, I’ve checked my home e-mail a few times, looked up a book on Amazon, and simultaneously worked on a job-related letter. Sometimes I think I’ve developed ADD in the past ten years.

After a couple of frenzied months, I had my pitches. I thought they were stronger this time around. One cool idea had the show open up with Gul Dukat in command of DS9 and the regular crew serving as his minions – and you didn’t get the mystery cleared up until the end of the show. (Wouldn’t ya know, I don’t really remember why this was happening, but it was cool, I tell ya!)

My pitch session this time was with Rene Ecchevarria, and I was a bit disappointed. Not that I had anything against Rene – he had written a lot of cool STAR TREK episodes, in fact – but I had hoped to deal with Ron Moore again, since I had actually met him in person.

At the designated time, my phone rang (how nice of Paramount to have the call on their dime), and Rene was on the other end. Any misgivings I had quickly evaporated – Rene was quite personable, and made me feel more at ease than Ron had. (But this wasn’t my first time pitching, and I was comfortably in my own home, which made a big difference, of course.)

After my first pitch, Rene applauded the overall idea, but said it wouldn’t work for them. Same with the second idea, and the third… up until the last. No “we’ll think about it” this time – I knew before I hung up the phone that I blew it once again.

To his credit, Rene went out of his way to be supportive. He told me that my pitches really were better than the vast majority that they got, and urged me not to give up. That helped, but I was still a loser.

Now, keep in mind that I’m older and wiser now, and been through some truly life-altering experiences (more on that later). So I now know that I wasn’t really a loser – but at the time, I was pretty down.

I gave up on STAR TREK, and moved on to my true love – comics.

Next: A brief interruption.

Write Club: 6

Still buzzing on adrenalin from my pitch session, I went looking for Aron “Nog” Eisenberg.

When he learned I was gonna be in Hollywood, Aron offered to meet me after my pitch session and go out to dinner. Soon after my meeting was over, he and his girlfriend (now wife) appeared. It was great to meet the guy face-to-face finally. I knew what he looked like without all the make-up, since he had sent me pictures, but it was still weird seeing him out of the Nog costume.

As we stood around talking, Aron ran up to a man who was walking by and started asking him some questions. I quickly realized that the man he was talking to was none other than Rick Berman, the executive producer and guardian of the STAR TREK franchise. It seemed Aron had a costume fitting the next day for Nog’s Starfleet uniform, and he was begging Rick for details on what was gonna happen with the character. Rick joked with him, but wouldn’t tell him.

After Rick walked away, Aron apologized for not introducing me. “I would have,” he explained, “but he still kind of intimidates me.” I could relate.

We started walking to Aron’s car when he suddenly turned toward me. “Hey, do you want to see the set?” he asked.

Did I want to see the set? Did Quark love latinum? (Sorry, dumb DEEP SPACE NINE joke.) “Well, if it’s no trouble,” I managed to say nonchalantly.

On our way, we passed the make-up trailer, where Armin Shimerman had just finished taking off his Quark trappings. “Hi, Aron!” he said cheerfully, and just as nicely greeted me when Aron introduced me. He was a very nice guy, certainly more genuine than the character he plays, and we chatted for a few moments.

Then, it was off to the set. Aron pulled open the door, and I entered, turned a corner... and found myself in the middle of the Promenade.

The Promenade is an absolutely incredible set. Two stories high and all lit up, it almost convinced me that I was on Deep Space Nine. The stars were even visible through the viewports on the second level. It was actually a lot smaller than it seemed on television, but I certainly didn’t care. It was magic.

There was the replimat... Odo’s office... Quark’s bar. I wanted to stop and wander into every nook and cranny, but Aron urged me forward. “Come on, I think they’re filming up here,” he said, and I didn’t need any further cajoling.

We turned the corner and found ourselves in Dr. Bashir’s Infirmary. Some of the crew had set up equipment and monitors there; I think they might have been viewing some of the footage shot earlier in the day. I soon found out that Aron was friends with everyone as he chatted happily with the crew.

Directing me to follow him, we stopped outside of the detention area set. Inside, it was obvious that a scene was about to begin. Avery Brooks and an actor playing a Trill were inside a cell, while Rene Auberjonois and Terry Farrell stood outside of it. They were shooting the upcoming episode “Facets,” in which the personalities of Dax’s former hosts come to inhabit the bodies of the station’s crew.

A loud bell rang, and everyone was suddenly silent. “Action!” the director yelled. The Trill stepped outside of the cell and turned to Rene. “You may reactivate the forcefield,” he said. Avery looked up into Terry’s eyes. “Dax,” he whispered.

“Cut!” yelled the director. As he talked with the actor playing the Trill, Terry peeked out at us. “Is that Aron?” she asked. Aron waved, and she waved back. I smiled, and she smiled back. This was cool.

Soon, the director was ready for another take of the same scene... and another after that. Aron had to drag me away, which was probably good -- I felt like I was about to trip over a cable and bring the whole set crashing down anyway.

We had to make a quick stop at the wardrobe department so Aron could talk about his costume fitting the next day. I could have spent hours in that place alone -- row after row of costumes!

After that, we hopped into Aron’s car, on our way to Ed Debevic’s and dinner. I was trying to imprint in my mind every detail of what I had seen -- it was definitely something I wanted to remember forever.

Looking back, I don’t think I had anything to worry about. This experience was a dream come true for me, and I’ll never forget it... at least not until next time!

Next: The next time!

Write Club: 5

“Here’s your pass, Mr. Giffin. If any guard dogs attack you, just show it to them.”

With that, the security guard at the Melrose Avenue gate of Paramount Pictures smiled and gave me my passport to wander about the lot unmolested. I was still in a state of disbelief. I mean, here I was, an hour away from my momentous meeting. It was so amazing that I had gotten this far. I never would have believed it.

I walked into the Paramount lot, heading toward the Hart building, where the STAR TREK offices were located. I knew I was in the right place when I saw a couple of Bajorans walk by me. This is so cool, I thought.

I found the Hart building, and opened the doors. As I walked up to the fourth floor office where my meeting would take place, I couldn’t help but notice the names outside the doors of the offices I was passing. Brannon Braga... Lolita Fatjo... these were all people who worked on the show! I would have loved to peek in as I walked, but didn’t want to look too much like a gawky tourist.

Soon, I was at Ron Moore’s office. April, real and in-person, sat before me. “Um, you’re an hour early,” she said to me. I explained that I didn’t want to be late, and she invited me to wait, but suggested that I may want to wander around the lot for a while until my meeting. I took her up on the offer.

For forty-five minutes, I strolled around the grounds of Paramount, trying my best to appear as if I belonged there. I guess I did belong there! Finally, I climbed the stairs up to Ron Moore’s office once again, and nervously took a seat on the couch outside his office.

“How long do you think you’ll need in there?” April asked me. I stared at her blankly. “I have no idea,” I told her. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh,” she smiled. “Well, we’ll just have you meet with Ron alone then. He’s really good for first-timers.”

At least someone had some sympathy for me. I fidgeted on the couch, and tried to drink a cup of water. I was already sweating.

Soon I was joined by a young woman who said that she was an intern on the show. She’d be taking notes and such during my pitch session. Ron Moore opened the door to his office, greeted me, and ushered the intern and I in.

“How did you come to us?” he asked as I sat down.

“By plane,” I said, trying to be humorous. “Um, from Milwaukee,” I quickly added.

It turned out he wanted to know how I got the opportunity to pitch. I explained the whole spec script thing, and he seemed satisfied. “Okay, let’s hear ‘em,” he said.

Every drop of moisture had left my mouth. Thankfully, I had a full cup of water. I opened my notebook, and started describing my first idea. It was the one that I thought was the best -- I figured I should start with a bang.

He listened attentively all the way through. When I was done, he leaned back in his chair. “Hmm,” he mused. “I like parts of that, but I don’t think it’ll work. What else do you have?”

I tried not to sink into the couch too noticeably. That was my “big gun.” Now what?

I went ahead with my next pitch, sort of a comedic Odo and Quark story. “That would be funny,” he agreed, “but I don’t think Odo would act like that.”

Okay, on to my next one. This one he liked much more. Make sure to write that one down, and we’ll take it to Ira,” he told the intern – “Ira” being Ira Steven Behr, the co-executive producer.

I then went through the nine shorter pitches I had. Of those, two were too similar to an episode that they were currently filming, a Dax story. Four had potential, but I didn’t flesh them out enough. And the rest just wouldn’t work.

As we continued to talk, he decided that my first idea might have some merit after all. “Write that one down, too,” he told the intern.

I rose from the couch and thanked him for this opportunity. He said that he thought I did a great job overall, that I pitched well, and that I was welcome to do it again anytime. In any case, I’d hear from his office within a couple of weeks on the two ideas he liked.

As I walked out of the building, I was elated. After I had started to get into it, my nervousness (as well as my dry mouth) had disappeared, and I thought I did a really good job. Just knowing that I could do this again made me feel great. If the day had ended there, I would have been happy. But there was even better stuff to come.

Next: The better stuff!

Write Club: 4

It seemed awfully ambitious to write an episode of a television series out of nowhere, but what did I have to lose?

Luckily, the STAR TREK shows were the only ones that would look at unsolicited scripts from writers not represented by literary agents. They had stringent guidelines, though – you could only send in full scripts. Scripts had to be a certain number of pages long, contain the proper number of acts, and conform to standard script layout.

I took my basic idea and wrote out the major plot points on index cards. (If you’re a curious DS9 fan, the episode featured the death of Jadzia Dax, accidentally resurrected by the wormhole aliens as Curzon Dax. Long story.) I arranged them in six rows on my living room floor – one row for each act plus the opening teaser. That way, I could rearrange the story as I needed, move scenes from the end of one act to the beginning of the next, and so on. It required much more preparation than my usual “sit down and start writing” approach, but it was absolutely necessary.

Once I knew the order of the story’s events, I was ready to sit down at the old Mac. I had a couple of scripts from previously-aired TREK episodes, and studied them intently. I carefully typed and formatted, backspaced and retyped. After a couple of months, my script was ready. I felt like I had learned quite a bit, even if I didn’t sell the script – but in September 1994, I crossed my fingers and sent it in.

Time passed... and passed... and passed. I have to admit that I almost forgot about that script, thinking that it was at the bottom of some landfill in L.A. But one cold February day, I called my answering machine from work, and there was a message from some woman named April. She said she was from the DEEP SPACE NINE office, and was wondering if I had received the pitch packet she had sent me in December. She wanted to know if I was interested in pitching story ideas, since she hadn’t heard from me.

I could barely hang the phone up. They wanted me to pitch for DEEP SPACE NINE? Of course, I immediately dialed the number she left, and was soon talking to April herself. I assured her that I did indeed want to pitch, but that the material she sent me must have been lost in the mail. She said she’d send me another packet, and asked if I wanted to pitch over the phone or in person.

Of course, doing it by phone was more economical for me, but I knew I just had to do it in person. First of all, I figured I’d make more of an impression in person, and secondly, I knew it was gonna be a fantastic experience! I’d scrape my pennies together and somehow get enough for the flight and the hotel.

Having made my appointment, the next thing I had to do was come up with some great story ideas. I didn’t know why they couldn’t use the script I had sent in, but it was obvious that I had to come up with some new concepts. After a month-and-a-half of nervous energy, I had about twelve pitches -- three fully developed story treatments and nine shorter ones.

True to her word, April had sent me the pitch packet. It was the DS9 “Writer’s Bible,” and a couple of sample scripts. The bible wasn’t much good, since I was already intimately familiar with the show, and I wasn’t writing a script – but it made me feel pretty important to get the packet. I mean, how many people actually got invited to pitch for STAR TREK?

In March of 1995, I flew to Los Angeles. I had been there briefly once before, but this time it would be a completely different experience. I had a room at the Roosevelt Hotel on Hollywood Boulevard – I figured that was a great spot to immerse myself in the weirdness that was L.A. I was right!

The day after I arrived, I took a cab to Paramount Studios. I wore khaki pants and a retro 50s shirt – I was so California! I gulped, took a breath, and walked up to the gate.

Next: I get inside!

Write Club: 3

I like cliffhangers. Things that keep you in suspense, the whole bit. But in fiction, in movies – not in my own life. So when the mystery of my ailment was finally solved, it was almost a relief.

Luckily, the prognosis was good. Hodgkin’s Disease is one of the most curable forms of cancer, and although I had a fairly widespread strain, the doctor anticipated remission after chemotherapy. That meant a lot of time off from work. (I had been working as a customer service representative for the same insurance company I work for today.)

After a few months of treatment, I started to feel much better. I didn’t return to work until January of 1993, so I had quite a bit of time on my hands. Problem was, I didn’t feel like writing.

I’m not sure why. It would have been a great time to finish “The High Seas and the Low Boats,” but I had no motivation. Maybe it reminded me too much of Grami and Boppa. Maybe it was too much like work. Whatever the reason, I still look at it as a missed opportunity.

In any case, I successfully completed my treatment and conquered the cancer, so that was something to be proud of!

In January of 1993, STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE premiered. Quickly, it became my favorite STAR TREK series (and still is, in fact). My interest in TREK rejuvenated,

Shortly after the show began, I wrote to all the main actors on the show, requesting autographed photos – including Aron Eisenberg, who played the young Ferengi, Nog. I think I just might have been the first fan who wrote him. We wrote back and forth quite a bit and chatted on the phone a couple of times. He even asked me for advice on how to “properly” play a Ferengi, since he got very little information from the producers.

I had a brainstorm and asked Aron if he’d be willing to do an interview with me. I thought I’d try my hand at writing an article based on our conversation and send it to the THE COMMUNICATOR, the magazine of the official STAR TREK fan club. True, it wasn’t fiction, but how hard could it be?

I borrowed a tape recorder that hooked up to the phone, and called Aron. I had prepared a lot of questions, but our conversation tended to wander all over. It was great fun. Afterward, I dutifully transcribed every single word of our conversation, and used the best quotes in my article. I thought it turned out quite well, and promptly sent it off to Dan Madsen, the editor of THE COMMUNICATOR.

A couple of weeks later, I got a call from Mr. Madsen – he liked my article and wanted to print it! I’d even get paid, once the story was actually published (I think it was $150, but I could have cared less). You can imagine my enthusiasm – I was gonna be a published writer who got paid for his work! Woo hoo! I swear I called everyone I knew to share the news of my “professional” status.

Weeks later, I ran to WaldenBooks almost every day on lunch, knowing that the magazine was due to come out. It finally did, and I was devastated – my article wasn’t in it. After I called him, Mr. Madsen explained that because of space limitations, the article was pushed back to next issue.

Okay, that wasn’t so bad. So a couple months later, I repeated the routine… no article again! And I got the same reason – “no room.” After I while, I gave up. The article never appeared, and I never got another explanation. That experience soured me on the workings of “professional” publications.

In the meantime, I decided to do a DEEP SPACE NINE fanzine, calling it simply “Nine.” I knew it would be time consuming, but I was such a fan of DS9. I included my orphaned interview in the first issue, and the ‘zine went on to win a “Fan Q” award (the Oscar of the ‘zine world) for best STAR TREK ‘zine.

Somewhere along the line, I had a really crazy thought – I’d try to write an actual episode of DEEP SPACE NINE! I’d heard of fans who sold their scripts to Paramount, so why couldn’t I be one of them? Yeah, I’d write a script!

Next: I write the darn thing.

Write Club: 2

Okay, so I was at that age where buying booze was more important than buying food; when my rent was less than a hundred bucks a month because there were so many people crammed into my apartment. The conditions weren’t conducive for writing, but then again, neither was my frame of mind.

Then came STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION.

Now, I had been a STAR TREK fan for as long as I could remember, but my biggest childhood passions were SPACE: 1999 and STAR WARS. I wasn’t even fully drawn into ST:TNG until the second season (which was actually one of the weakest seasons, in my opinion). But when I got into it, I got into it big.

I started buying books, magazines, anything NEXT GENERATION that I could get my hands on. Even those really crappy action figures. And I went to my first convention here in Milwaukee. It was pretty small – Mark “Sarek” Lenard and Grace Lee “Rand” Whitney were guests (both considered “B-List” TREK celebrities in the convention world). I had a great time, though, and made a momentous discovery – fanzines.

A fanzine is just a fan-produced publication – they can be about almost anything. And like all other types of fanzines, TREK ‘zines ranged in quality from crude to slick and professional. Presumably, because they were non-profit (or purported to be, anyway), they escaped the wrath of Paramount, the owners of STAR TREK.

When I discovered that most ‘zines eagerly accepted stories from outside writers, I got crackin’ on a NEXT GENERATION tale. It was extremely derivative and not very good, but nevertheless, a fanzine called “Galaxy Class” accepted it for publication. I was thrilled – to me, “Galaxy Class” was the best-looking ‘zine out there. They didn’t pay me, of course, but I was quite proud to have a story in print. Since I was now a WRITER, I invested in my own computer – a Mac Classic that’s ridiculously antiquated by today’s standards.

After having another story published in a different ‘zine, I decided that I should start my own fanzine – so “Hailing Frequencies” was born. The first couple of issues featured stories by me, as well as other people -- but soon, the work involved in editing and producing the ‘zine meant that I had little time to write. After the third issue, I decided to call it quits.

Part of the reason was because I was getting tired of playing in other people’s sandboxes… I wanted to write characters who were mine! And I was done with short stories – hell, I was gonna do a novel! I had the perfect idea – “The High Seas and the Low Boats.”

When I was a kid, my family would visit my grandparents in northern Wisconsin. We called them “Grami and Boppa,” in honor of my initial attempts at pronunciation as a tot. Anyway, after lunch, Boppa would regale my brother and I with the daily installment of “The High Seas and the Low Boats.”

“High Seas” was the tale of two guys, Mike and Joe, who found a boat and sailed the seas, going from one adventure to the next. My memory’s pretty hazy on the specifics (no surprise, since my memory’s hazy about last week, too), but I do recall that one episode had Mike and Joe visiting island natives who liked to bet on chicken fights. My wonderfully imaginative Boppa made it all up as he went along, and every day ended with a cliffhanger.

With such fond (albeit cloudy) memories, I decided to update “High Seas” for a new audience. I kept that basic premise – two guys sailing around, having adventures – but updated virtually everything else. Now the “guys” were British kids, and the story started in World War II-era England.

I wrote several chapters, and mailed them to my grandparents. Boppa was in failing health at this time, but Grami read him the chapters, and he enjoyed it very much. Hey, that was all the validation I needed! Unfortunately, both Grami and Boppa passed away during the summer of 1991.

That summer, I was also in failing health – I had been terribly fatigued and lost almost forty pounds. At first, we thought that it was connected with my grief over losing my grandparents, but in September ’91, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Disease – cancer of the lymph nodes.

I had to put my writing on hold again.

Next: Things get better, don’t worry.

Write Club 1

When Ed Dukeshire mentioned that he needed a new Tuesday column, I jumped at the chance. Well, I sorta hopped – I thought it would be exciting to do a column, but I wasn’t sure what to write about.

Then I realized a great deal of us who visit DIGITAL WEBBING are “wannabes” – wannabe artists, writers, inkers, whatever. Often very talented, but wannabes, nonetheless. Maybe I could talk about my very successful career as a wannabe writer – I mean, I’m really quite good at being a wannabe! But in all seriousness, I thought maybe some people could relate to my experiences – or at the very least, my tales would be interesting to warrant a weekly read.

So, I’ve decided to ramble on about my journey toward that vaunted destination: PROFESSIONAL COMIC BOOK WRITER.

It’s a strange place to be traveling to, since I don’t really know how far it is away, or how long it’ll take for me to get there – but I do feel like I’ve crossed a major milestone, having “Harlow’s End: Elijah’s Tale” featured in DIGITAL WEBBING PRESENTS #3.

Now, I have to tell you that I am a professional writer – I write form letters for a major health insurance company. You know, the ones that tell you your premium is late, your claim has been delayed, and so on. While it’s kinda exciting to be the “voice” for the company, it’s not a particularly thrilling or challenging job. I want to write fun stuff!

Not that this is a new dream, by any means. When I was a kid, I thought it would be pretty cool to be a comic book writer – but I wanted to create my own comic, not write for an existing one. (I didn’t just have big dreams, I had ridiculously big dreams.) I concocted a hero from the future, Epsilon, who was thrown back in time to the present. He had a big gun and a smart-ass little talking computer. Okay, maybe it wasn’t original, but at least it was before CABLE, mind you.

I drew a couple of crude sketches and dreamed up storylines for the first few issues of the series. I think one of them involved Epsilon trying to find a power source to recharge his gun. Pretty gripping, huh? I guess it comes as no surprise that I received rejection letters from Marvel and DC. (Hmmm, I wonder who wrote their form letters?)

That pretty much quashed my dreams of being a comic writer for the time being. I decided to focus on something smaller – a novel. If I remember correctly, I called it SLEEPER SEVEN. The book was about seven people in suspended animation, who awaken thousands of years later than planned because of a saboteur among them. Once I had figured out the characters and basic concept, I just started writing – who needs an outline, when you can just make it up as you go? (In fact, I still have a tendency to write like that today.)

I petered out after a few chapters. I don’t think I really came up with a plausible reason why these people were put into suspended animation in the first place, much less why anyone would want to sabotage such an operation. But it was fun for a while, and although I’m not sure where the pages are right now, I’m sure they’re in the bottom of a drawer somewhere. I do recall seeing them a few years ago and thinking, “Hey, this ain’t half-bad,” considering my tender age.

But then college came up, and more importantly, moving to the big city and away from my parents. It was hard enough to go to school and pursue my primary extracurricular activity – partying. That didn’t leave any time for recreational writing.

While I doubt that I would have never tried writing again, I’m really grateful that STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION to give me a jumpstart… and I’ll explain about that in my next column.