GROUP-MINDED: Conclusion

In the beginning, DMS was a tool to publish my stories. But, somewhere along the way, like a great character, it became sentient – alive, breathing, and out of my control. It found me unworthy and left, but not without showing me exactly what I had lost.


It began just before production was to start. I’d put the book through rewrites, adding over ten pages. Bloody Pencil had done work on the character’s design, but I wanted it redone, emphasizing changes I’d made. I would have gone through Glasshouse, but I wanted to see Lazarus in a different style, and previous attempts were unsuccessful. Neil tried, but I wasn’t happy. I emailed Draxhall to “draxify” the character, but they couldn’t do it in the week I had to get it done. I mentioned my problem to Bloody Pencil who wanted to help me out. I was hesitant at first, but I had no other choice, but to let him try and knock it out. What an understatement – Bloody Pencil knocked it out the park!

It was the best thing I’d seen him draw in months. One of the best things I’ve seen from him in years, going back to those first illustrations of angels that sparked imagination ten years prior. That image was to herald a new stage in Bloody Pencil’s life. With me he was reduced to a child, crying in the corner, afraid of the luminous shadow of his drawing desk that blinded him. Without me, he pushed forward. In no time he was taking freelance art gigs from smalltime caricatures to television, then film. While my star dwindled, I watched as he soared.

I’d always believed that Bloody Pencil and I were like the same person from different realities. Choices I’d made, he turned away from. Corners he’d turned, I refused to encounter. And now, it was as if we couldn’t both succeeding without the other. We shared the same space, energy, place in time. Someone had to fall for the other to rise. Karma would dictate whom. I’d betrayed my friend. Let temptations come between us. I’d listened to the opinions of a stranger and let him lead me away from loyalty and friendship. This was my punishment.

I watched as my energy dwindled with every problem I endured through production. I watched as my chosen artist chose not to do his best work, ignored the script, proper references, and instructions. As I drowned in corrections I wished I could go back in time and undo the mistake I’d made, with Bloody Pencil, and with Merlin.

Merlin had resigned and I’d done nothing to stop it. I wish I had. I wish I ripped his virtual resignation in half. Writing became a lonely practice without Merlin to bounce ideas off and find the right paths. And, I must admit, it made me feel good when I wrote a scene that hit him in just the right way. There was a time, back in the earlier days, when I wrote an issue of Qabbal, and Merlin read it, looked at me and said I was becoming the writer he knew I could be. That gave me a tremendous feeling of accomplishment. The same way it feels when you impress your kung-fu master.

Despite Merlin’s hard hand at times, he kept me going, gave me encouragement, and made sure the shadows of my mind didn’t consume me. Without him, I was left alone as the darkness swallowed me whole. Melodramatic, I know, but true all the same. The fatality that did me in was Merlin and Bloody Pencil teaming on a project. I must admit, I was jealous. I missed both of them, and I worried they would recapture that magic without me. In my depression, I feared perhaps that I was never a necessary ingredient of DMS at all. It, they, never needed me. Perhaps it was I all that time, the one that held everything back. The one that kept DMS from rising. As I searched for a name for myself, I wondered if they would call themselves DMS. It’s a hard thing, when you need someone, to know they don’t need you.

I played with names, trying to find ways to describe myself. I asked Bloody Pencil and Merlin surprised me when they suggested I take DMS for myself. I thought about it, and sometimes felt lazy enough to go with it, but it didn’t feel right. DMS was more than just I, and calling just myself that was amputating. Not knowing exactly what to do, I forgot about the whole thing and pushed forward.

I can’t remember exactly how or why, but after months, the lines of continuous communication opened between Merlin and I. It was weird at first because I wanted to pick up where we left off, bouncing story ideas, talking comics and movies. But, I also wanted to show him that I had grown a bit. I was weak, but not as weak as before. I wanted to dazzle him. So, things were awkward, but got better over time, progressing gradually from dinners to a night out or chill’ in front of the tube.

But, It wasn’t who first suggested a DMS reunion. It was Bloody Pencil. Out of the blue, one night on the phone he wanted to get DMS back together, and right then we both thought of Merlin, but he had a publishing deal in the works. We asked why he would even need us anymore. We met once; at a Denny’s restaurant in Highland Park we discussed the future, our future together. It was the last either of us spoke of it.

Life can get in the way of so many things. Bloody was working two jobs and taking freelance gigs that were coming in one after another. I was sinking more and more every day into my own lake of fire. No matter how much we both wanted to restart DMS, it just wasn’t the right time. But, the seeds had been planted. The desire was there. I was too far-gone to notice. And, further I sank.

Immersed in the Twilight of the Soul, I went into, what would come to describe as, emotional shock, manifesting in a waking coma. Like a schizophrenic coming into his or her disease, I turned to drugs for relief. Unfortunately, I went to a psychologist instead of a psychiatrist, and therapy became my junk. In that small room I’d get my fix. Where once writing relieved all my ills, now I was hooked on that hour-long crap I took on myself. But, I got over that, and I still see myself in the midst of a withdrawal. But, I’m coming out of that too.

I remember the good days, when DMS was strongest. I would imagine us like wrestlers, walking down a stage to the ring with the DMS music playing from everywhere. Everything became DMS. The DX theme from the WWE, the DMX song that was popular. I’d switch the letters, subtract one, and add two. I’d see us at the Eisner Awards:

Announcer: And the winner for best comic of the year…

Wait for it.

Announcer: Danse Macabre Studios.

The room would go dark; spotlights would come on, moving form side to side in a chaotic, indecisive back & forth. A voice is heard of the loud speaker.

Voice: Are you ready?

The music would start with a heavy base, a video monitor would appear, showing people running in a riotous panic. The DMS emblem, a cross and pentagram joined in a westernized yin & yang union would flash between shots. And finally, a screaming voice that sound too similar to Zack from Rage Against the Machine would scream-

Voice: DMS!

Yeah, it’s the opening to Degeneration X. But, for that time, in my mind, it was our entrance music, and I switched between that and DMX’s video, with the three of us in the center of a round stage, gangsta rapping.

One of the last good memories I have in my old house was the first DMS reunion in three years. Merlin, Bloody Pencil, and I on a Saturday night, doing what we do. An old fashion jam session, tossing around ideas. It felt so good, I wanted to blurt out right then: “Hey, lets get DMS back together!” But I kept quiet and watched them walk away, wondering if they felt the same way I did. Did they feel the magic? Could we get it all back? When I emerged from Twilight, the first thing that came to me was putting DMS back together. When I think about it, I get so pump, full of spit and fire. I want to pick up my phone, call Bloody Pencil and Merlin, and ask them – no, tell them – I’m putting DMS back and I want you. I need you, both of you. You’re my muses and doing this, creating this, isn’t the same without you. I need you. Come back. Lets do it again. Lets do it right this time. I’m sorry I failed you, both of you. I won’t let that happen again. I promise, no talk of quitting, no surrender, no more twilights and goodnights. I’m in to win.

I got nothing to offer you, either of you. Honestly, you’re both better off without me. But, if we do this, and we will, I guarantee you’ll have the time of your life doing what you want to do, the way you want it done. Image shouldn’t be the only publisher not ass-raping new creators media rights. They shouldn’t be the only one still daring to be unique, eclectic, and original. Comics are boring, men. Big business has taken everything over. Characters are being destroyed in the name of Entertainment Weekly and USA Today articles. Goddamn it, the fans are screaming. Merlin, you said what separated me from someone’s work that shall remain nameless is my honesty. No one is being honest anymore. Sure, I still have insane ideas, but it’s no longer about destruction, but revolution. A superhero, comic book revolution. Our devil’s dance won’t be about darkness, but light and revelation.

That’s a lot, I know. Coming from nothing, with nothing, and promising everything. But you know, that’s how I got my first real girlfriend, resulting in my wife of eleven years, my two kids, and my family. I’m going to have DMS back. I need it. It’s a part of me, just like breathing. I can’t write without or outside of it.

And, I’m a fucking writer. Like it or not. I can’t run, fight, or hide from who I am. Ultimately, in my world. A writer is someone who does it against his or her will, regardless of material gain.

The last time I looked, I was the only one here.

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GROUP-MINDED Pt. 7

And then, there were two.

Two of the weakest.

Two of the most misguided.

We were the only ones left to fulfill a dream and we failed miserably. Perhaps I’m being too hard on Bloody Pencil and myself, but this isn’t about more excuses. It’s confession time. And, for my part, I was all talk and no action until it was too late; then I had the gaw to turn my back on a friend guilty of no crime I hadn’t committed myself.

Merlin left, Bloody Pencil and I renewed our vow to a dream. We slammed ourselves full throttle into Qabbal with no hesitations. I triple the number of scripts I’d finished. We put together a proposal that is still the best we’ve ever done. Bloody Pencil invested in a Mac computer for the artwork. We brought in Rob for colors and reconnected with Juan to get our website done, finally.

But it all fell on deaf ears. When the rejection letter came, we had the guts to shelve Qabbal for something more commercial. That was the birth of Lazarus. We talked about joining Marvel’s Epic line, and started developing a Dr. Strange script that still amazes me. We put together a ten page Lazarus story for Digital Webbing. Came up for a web strip series called Sinful Siblings, a mixture of Raggedy Anne and Andy with goth subculture.

For a while, it was beautiful. I developed the Four Month Plan, a detailed outline of what we had to get done each month. In four months, we’d have an operational website, with a blog, forum, and web comics; a ten page story published in a growing anthology, and I was in communication with an editor who coached us through the process to give us the best chance of acceptance. It had taken over five years, but I had finally taken DMS by the reigns.

We failed the plan, not once, but twice.

By this time Lazarus: Immortal Coils was complete. The first story I ever complete from beginning to end, and it looked like it would never get done. I’d pushed away all the obstacles I let getting the way between Bloody Pencil and I. We avoided talking about his wife, and when we did, I didn’t flood his ears with talk of divorce and disrespect. I even went so far as visiting his home, just to squash it. I fell in love with his art again, accepted him for the artists he is, and not who I wanted him to be, fulfilling my own grand delusions. And still we had nothing. My wife was pregnant. I was older. I had to do what I could to get my dream off the ground, but that meant saying goodbye to DMS.

Years earlier, my father had said he would support me in my writing endeavors, but I had to go it alone. He didn’t want his money profiting anyone except me. Especially, not if I could some day have a company I established taken from away. The possibility hung over my head for years, but I never acted because it was a betrayal to me. I couldn’t abandon my crew, but it was also about giving up that security and support, and I wasn’t ready. But this time the offer was too good to ignore. My father remembered his words and agreed to help. Instead of starting fresh, I went to the same person I always did to draw the book, Bloody Pencil.

It wasn’t all me. When he heard my father had approved me, Bloody Pencil put in a bid for the work. $10 per for a ninety-six-page book, it was an offer I couldn’t refuse, and the thought of refusing never entered my mind. It made sense that once I started paying for the work, Bloody Pencil would produce the art in on time. After the first deadline was missed, I extended and re-set to allow for more time, but it didn’t matter. The final straw came when I started looking for an inker. I’d communicated with everyone, including Dani Miki. But it was Dave at Glasshouse that responded to an ad I’d placed. When I showed him the pages, he slammed Bloody Pencils work – hard.

An offer was made from Glasshouse to produce the entire book, and I was temped, but stuck with Bloody Pencil, until, at the most crucial time in our business relationship, he missed another deadline. I didn’t have to fire him, thank God. Bloody Pencil quit for the good of the book. To the very end, he was thinking of DMS.

But DMS was already dead. The very names alone inspired bad memories and misappropriated time. I didn’t want the name. I didn’t want to think about it, or jinx my chances now that I was working independently. Things were good at first. I was real busy, and I took pride in what I was doing, Things were finally looking up. I had a book in production. Professionals were doing it. I was closer than I’d ever been to realizing my dream.

Ironically, that’s when the first sting came, like a fast and sharp jab to the chin, gone before you realize you’ve been hit. I knew something was wrong the first time I went to Comics Ink. DMS was put to bed. I was alone, the first time I’d walk through those doors alone in ten years. The place was full of memories. I went home with two bags of comics and read them by myself. It was midnight on a Saturday, and I was alone. It felt like I hadn’t been alone in years, and I hadn’t. Everything lost its thrill. As the time drew closer for me to reinvent myself, I wondered what name I would embrace. I’d been known as DMS for so long, anything else didn’t fit, but neither did DMS, not anymore.

What would I become?

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GROUP-MINDED Pt. 6

In Arthurian legend, Arthur was the king, but he was nothing without his mentor, Merlin. And, despite how we view the events, it was the loss of Merlin that signal the fall of the kingdom. Without Merlin, Excalibur would have stayed with the Lady. There would be no knights, no table round, and perhaps Arthur and Gwenivere would have passed each other by. Maybe that would have been for the best.

I met my Merlin at a comic shop, Comic’s Ink. I’d gone in the store a few times, never speaking, but always aware. I’d listen to Merlin talk to his customers about comics, movies, music, and quantum physics. Always wanting to join in the fun, but too afraid. Trying to remember in my old age how we met exactly, I think I owe it all to one stranger who approached Merlin for advice on a script. When I saw that, I saw an opportunity, and I was always anxious to have someone praise my work. This was back in the day when my only feedback came from friends and girlfriend.

I remember only one thing from our first conversation. Merlin asked me, “What books are you reading.” I don’t think he realized just whom he was dealing with or he would have simply said, “Looks good.” Leave it at that. But right there our relationship was formed. I was squire, and he was wise man. It’s for that reason I asked him to join Gothic Studios. I knew nothing of the comic industry, and I’d heard Merlin speak enough on the subject to know how aware he was of the ins and outs. Besides, when forming a comic studio, it doesn’t hurt to have a retailer in on the ground floor.

At Merlin’s first meeting, he hipped us to the facts and killed all enthusiasm when he gave us his only condition for joining us. We had to realize that breaking in would take five years minimum. He couldn’t have picked the wrong bunch of kids to tell. Alex and I dealt with it, but used it as a tool to procrastinate. Neil saw it as a hurdle to jump, and when he couldn’t, he blamed the industry and us. But, that didn’t change the fact that Merlin was right. It takes five years, minimum. We accepted, Merlin joined, and without his guidance many thing DMS accomplished would have never happened. We probably wouldn’t have known or gone to the San Diego convention, put proposals together, had business cards, met professionals, and made ashcans. Qabbal would still be Dead Souls and I’d still write anything but full comic strip format. But, probably the biggest thing we owe to him is keeping DMS alive much longer than it would have been had he not been around.

DMS needed a leader, and I was so afraid I often ran away when the group needed me most. At those times, Merlin was there to grab the reigns. He was the leader I should have been, and there were times I saw it, knew it, and envied him for it. But, it was the quiet moments, when it was just the two of us, when I’d let my ego take a rest and we’d talk about everything, every problem I was having in and out of the studio. There were times he was an understanding friend, and others where he was the crabby old kung fu master. Because of him I started reading books I’d never pick up. I discovered Phillip K. Dick is the driest writer on the planet. His stories are the only ones better on screen than paper. I read about nanotechs in Blood Music. African magic in Blood Brothers. I read about junk from Burroughs and more junk from HST. He took away my reliance on inspiration and gave me control of my imagination. But, while I became a better writer, I was becoming a worse person.

It’s all about timing. Meet the right person at the right time and you could create an independent nation. Meet them at the wrong time, and you’ll find yourself in San Diego, dead in a bunk bed. I met Merlin shortly after I was married and we became friends real fast. Alex, Neil, and I hung out, but Merlin and I practically lived together. We’d see each other every single day almost. We’d go to movies and dinners with our wives. We traveled together. Smoked weed together. Sometimes we just hung out. But I was going through changes, and there were thing in Merlin’s life that was too dangerous for me at the time. The shiny loaded gun in the shoebox a child can’t imagine would blow his or her head off. It doesn’t take crack to make a junky. Anything is narcotic for someone with an addictive personality. It started at the con with porn stars, went so far as strip bars, and became obsessive with nudie magazines. Funny, unjust though it may be, I seem to remember myself in the same way I watched Johnny Cash destroy himself in Walk the Line. It all started with a “pick me up.” Merlin was going through his own tribulations, but I won’t assume to know what they were. I’ll simple say things were out of balance.

While I drowned, I forced myself on Merlin all the more. I went from Arthur to Uther, always relying on Merlin’s magic for everything. Then Merlin began to pull back. Perhaps he felt taken advantage of, and that wouldn’t be an exaggeration. Or, per chance he knew I relied on him too much. Hell, he could have just gotten bored and tired of seeing me every day. I knew things were different when I went into his store one night with the usual “I suck” look on my face. I opened, looking for the usual pat on my back. Instead, I was given a verbal slap across the face. A “get off your ass” speech that sent me back. It was a wake up call on several levels.

It’s very hard to change anything once it’s become a habit, and both of us fell into that trap. The days between meetings were full of decisive decisions, but every Saturday just saw more of the same procrastinations. It got to a point when Merlin would not come to every meeting because there was nothing to do. I knew there was something wrong, bnut I did nothing. I was enjoying my newfound body and ego too much to care. Merlin started drifting. And then, he was gone. There were only two of us left. And we started strong, in the beginning. But, Merlin was the driving force. The meme of DMS that kept us focused. Without him, we became lost, uncertain, and fear would eat us alive.

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CHARACTER ASSASSINATION

Have you heard the BIG news?

Marvel’s Civil War # 2 hit the direct market today and it’s ending is one EIC Quesada has been pumping for weeks now. Normally, about this time, would do a “SPOILER WARNING!” But, I’m not that big an asshole.

For those who don’t know, Civil War is another attempt by Mark Millar to exterminate American comics. In this attempt, the US Government passes a registration act forcing heroes to make their identities known to them, receive training and funding if needed, and become answerable to the law if something horrible happens as a direct result of their actions. In the first issue the “superhero team” The New Warriors attacked recently escaped villains living in a small town. One of them was the man who called himself Nitro, with the power of detonating himself at will. Nitro’s big claim to fame is he indirectly killed Captain Marvel. This time, he directly kills a shitload of civilians, including a school full of kids.

“The lines are drawn” as Marvel’s been saying, and there are those heroes who side with the government, agreeing to sign the act. And, those who are against it, becoming federal criminals. In # 2, Spider-Man, who’s sided with the government, reveals his identity to the world in a press conference; and just like that, forty-four years of comic and character history goes to shit.

When I first read the news, I wasn’t floored. I simply asked my why Marvel was doing this? Why would they allow anyone to do this? Not that the comic fan in me was questioning this; it was the writer. In my gut, which is still twenty-five percent a writer, I knew something was wrong, but couldn’t put my finger on it. The whole thing just felt empty and without meaning. I didn't care, and that alone made me curious. The question of why just kept repeating in my head. Not until I spoke to Alex, did it become clear.

Anyone who knows the character, knows how important keeping his identity a secret is. In the character’s history, anyone who’s ever learned his identity has either killed or been killed because of it. He’s made the question of his identity more than just a gimmick, it’s part of the character’s choices that define him. Stripping him of his secret identity doesn't destroy four decades of history, but it does remove a lot of the value and emotional investment. More, devalues of Peter Parker as a hero, a man who's suffered for so much, only to get so little in return, just because it's the right thing to do, and he's one of the few who can do something. It robs the supporting characters, alive and dead, of their sacrifices. It mocks the efforts of his wife, Mary Jane, who's sacrificed her life in the name of Peter's morality, and the concern of his Aunt May, including what it meant for her to find out his secret life after years of secrets, and her choice to support him despite her objections.

The point has been made that now, more than ever, Peter and his family are the most protected they've ever been. And, with the Registration Act requiring him to reveal himself, now is the time. You know what I say? Bullshit. There comes a time for every person who lives a lie when they reach the point of no return. When keeping the lie alive is actually the right thing to do, because revealing the truth would be too destructive. Peter Parker had reached that point, and gone beyond it. Safety is an illusion, 9-11 taught us this. It's when you think everything is okay that everything goes to shit. No one knows this more than Peter Parker. After forty-four years, he's become a walking banner for such twists of fate. He finally finds his one true love, only for her to die at the hands of his best friend's insane father. His Uncle Ben was killed after he received his powers - a nerd's dream comes true. Just when his star is on the rise, J.J. Jameson launches a smear campaign against him. And, every time it looks like Spidey is going from vigilante to bonafide super hero, someone in a copycat suit frames him for a crime he didn't commit.

I keep writing about this form the character's point of view because it proves that this is completely not in character. It's so much outside of character; it's not even in the same universe. You almost wonder if it's another fucking clone, or if Iron Man has brainwashed Peter somehow because Spider-Man, a counterculture icon, joining "The Man" is too out there. If Superman represented the "Might Makes Right" ideas of conservatism in the 1960's and even today, then Spider-Man is definitely the "hippie" superhero. This is the guy who now joins the gov'ment, not to mention Tony Stark.

Again, I ask the question "Why?" What's the point? Juice? Media? Attention? Is this what its come down to, people - fans of the comic medium, my brothas and sistas? Is this what we're left with now, characters and books that are nothing more than tools for media hype. All this to draw in new readers who only care about dollar signs and future investments. The same people who nearly broke the industry ten years ago.

My people, my family in mythology, I'm preaching to you again about the industry taking us for granted and treating us like crack whores and junkies, a guaranteed sale. We keep this industry alive. We put asses in the seat of those comic based movies. You know we make up over 50% of those ticket sales. We're the reason there were three X-Men movies, and the third Spidey on the way. Hollywood knows what publishers have forgotten - loyalty.

This is coming from the guy who writes about making Batman gay, I know. But, while I'm all for character change and growth, I'm a big believer in continuity and a disbeliever in many ideas that following a character's history is limiting and damaging. It's the history of these characters that make them exciting. The main reason I'm reading DC right now is because of the history. The reason I'm dropping Marvel books, one after the other, is their disrespect of history.

Maybe Marvel is doing better financially, but its stuff like this that make it seem as if they're still struggling to rebuild after the bankruptcy. And DC needs to stop trying to play their game and stick to what they do best, well-written stories that have substance.

JPG.

GROUP-MINDED Pt. 5

While Neil’s departure was unfortunate, it was necessary. Neil had become a shadow, never truly making his feelings known, just staying in the background where, once, he had been in the forefront. Neil blamed us for his misfortunes, his lack of money, food, and his suicidal tendencies. And, for this, we’ve been “blackballed.”

The subject still makes me very angry. How can someone blame another human being for choices they failed to make or made? I would like to stay home and write all day, but I can’t. Even before I wanted a family, I wanted a life. I like eating. I like having money in my pocket. There is no reason in this day and age, or yesterday’s, for a “starving artist.” If you decide to travel that road, it’s your choice to do so. Neil may have been “incapable” of working a small job for cash, but that was his choice, and everything that came from that is on him, not me, or us.

Despite that, he was right, we did fail him.

That left three of us to carry on DMS and take it somewhere. Here is where I should have stepped up to the plate. My connection with Bloody Pencil and Merlin were a little bit stronger because we shared many of the same interests. Neil was always one foot in and another out of the geek world. But, Bloody Pencil, Merlin, and I were all the way in. Bloody Pencil was the heart of DMS. No one believed more than he did. Believed so much he put a few thousand dollars in the business account we started. Here I was, the “founder” and I hadn’t put in a dime. I tried to stop Bloody Pencil; I knew what would happen, I would almost foresee the road ahead and I knew asking or even accepting the money was a gross manipulation.

I was always doing stuff like that and I wonder if it made me seem schizophrenic. I knew what we had been getting thinner by the moment. It was only a matter of time before it vanished before our eyes. Magic had been lost. A fire that we thought was unquenchable. And, in it’s place, was pragmatism and procrastination. Saturday nights saw us meeting at my place, buying comics, food, dvd’s, and spending the evening talking a little business and a whole lot of pop culture. My wife didn’t even know what to make of these “business meetings” and told me on several occasions that I needed to get serious.

But I didn't listen; even though I knew she was right. There were times I tried to take the reigns. Those small-unexpected times when I would gain strength from some unknown place, but it never lasted too long. I'd damaged my own credibility.

Bloody Pencil was going through his own hell at the time, courtesy of yours truly. Being around artists for most of my teenage years and young adult life, I felt I had a smidgen of artistic know how. But, this perception was misguided by my own grand delusions. I dreamt of stories, my stories, drawn by people like Andy Kubert, Jim Lee, and Tom Raney. That's who I compared Bloody Pencil's work to every time I saw it. If it didn’t match up, I'd get upset - very upset. This built up a low artistic esteem that was never missing before. There was also the subject matter. Dead Souls had changed into Qabbal, and the story became a very dangerous one to tell. As it got better, Bloody Pencil felt the need to succeed at it. Fueled by my anger and dreams of artistic glory, he needed every page to be gold. Deadlines were missed; pages took forever to get done.

It was an unending circle of events, the longer it took pages to get done, the more time I had on my hands. I tried several different projects, but was unable to comfortably switch between the two. I went back to my first script, found holes, and went to fixing them. That led to the first re-write, but with every reading, I found more things, or things I wished I'd thought of earlier. I'd see a movie and walk out with two or three ideas for the book. The longer the pages took, the more I re-wrote the scripts. Pages that Bloody Pencil had already finished had to go back to pencil to make the changes in the script. Things were deteriorating on a personal level too, our friendship and partnership was under fire and in jeopardy.

Before Neil's departure, Bloody Pencil said, after years of nothing, he wanted a relationship. When I worked temp, I met this girl who seemed nice and I set her up with Bloody. This relationship started becoming an unnecessary diversion, and there was nothing I could do because it was my fault. I brought her into the mix. So, on top of everything Bloody was dealing with - his own doubts and insecurities about his art, fears of how the story would effect his strict Catholic family, and a partner who's constantly using him to make real his delusional fantasies - now he has a girlfriend who put him through the emotional ringer not even three months after their first date.

Neil and I were still talking, because no matter what we are still friends, and it became a running gag to imagine twenty years gone by and still no issue one was complete. I'd often joke that the humans of the future would open a time capsule and there would sit an incomplete copy of Qabbal # 1.

In retrospect, I think it was all a symptom of fear and uncertainty from all of us. Here we were on this endeavor with no idea, really, how to get it done without failing like so many others. Every idea we had was a crapshoot. All we could do was follow the rulebook, but others who failed wrote it. The comic industry can be truly frightening. It's not like movies. Movies, no matter how bad, have an audience. Someone will buy it. Hell, some of the worst movies in the world become cult classics. Movies have several lives - theatrical, video, dvd, television, cable, etc. Comics only have one market, the direct market. Everything goes through one guy, the retailer. If he doesn't like it, he won't book it. If he doesn’t book it, no one buys it. They won't even know you exist. And for this, we were willing to risk everything, even money we didn't have, and had no idea how to get. After five San Diego conventions and two rejection letters, it was hard to have high hopes.

But, I was the leader. It was my job to keep hope alive. Instead, others had to keep me afloat. If the leader is afraid, the army runs for the hills. Merlin's departure was inevitable.

GROUP-MINDED Pt. 4

Letting Dave and his book Glacier join our ranks was the first bad moves in a long list of to come. Things changed. Neil and Bloody Pencil looked behind the curtain of the Great Oz and just saw a man who didn’t know what he was doing, and didn’t have the balls to do what had to be done.

The lines between business and friendship started to blur. We did less and less work each meeting. We brought more of our personal lives into the mix. I became too comfortable, and exposing my Charlie Brown-like persona made me a target for disrespect. That’s not to mean anything was done maliciously, but even if you’re friends with your supervisor, you don’t cross a line that would impair his image with others.

I became too pragmatic, a result of my growing concern for the essentials, like money. No matter how many cool ideas we had, I would always find a reason why we couldn’t do them, or couldn’t do them right then and there. I called myself being realistic, but that realism killed the impulsiveness that brought these men to me in the first place. Essentially, the Man with No Name became William Munny.

It wasn’t long before things started to fall apart. Neil got a job with Lucas Arts and told everyone, but me, because he felt I couldn’t handle it. It was obvious Neil would be the first to go. Out of all of us, he seemed most effected by the addition of Dave and became the most annoyed and vocal about our “careful planning.” He had a deadline for how long it would take him to explode, and we were slowing him down. But, in our defense, we were not his only obstacles.

Neil was starving, literally. Several nights, Bloody Pencil or I would take him food, or drive him to McDonalds for ten orders of the one-dollar special. We coaxed him into getting a job to bring in some money, but it didn’t take. While multi-capable, Neil is very single minded. Once he sets a goal, nothing really can be allowed to get in his way. Everything else becomes an annoyance; you can imagine what it’s like for that kind of person to do telemarketing. It nearly killed him.

What no one knew until years later was Neil was so bad off, he considered suicide. And by “considered”, I mean he came too close to an attempt. The experts say those people who are contemplating suicide with no one knowing are the ones to be worried about. Well, Neil said nothing to no one. On the surface, his life was hard, but he was smiling through it. None of us knew how close he came to ending it all.

Neil was the first to get a real gig as an artist, doing designs for a horror movie. From there, he started networking and other jobs popped up. One minute he was designing werewolves, the next he was illustrating an album cover. Finally, the money started rolling in… Or it would have, had the people who hired him actually paid the money. What Neil didn’t get in cash, he made in connections. Soon, he was doing design work on Stephen Sommer’s The Mummy.

The last summer we were all together, we went to the San Diego Comicon with a proposal for all of our books: Qabbal, Clan of the Vein, Glacier, and a new addition – Doc Abraxas. For the previous four years, we went to the convention with proposals to look warm response. That year we were finally getting some notice. Or, rather, Glacier was getting noticed.

Never in my life had I seen karma strike so hard, fast, and cold. Everyone we showed our proposal to did bug-eyes for Glacier. Neil and Bloody Pencil were floored. After all the crap they’d spewed, payback was unkind. I felt unjustly vindicated for letting Dave in the grou and for all the words I knew Neil and Bloody Pencil shared at my expense for "picking up" Glacier. Merlin and I took great delight in watching their display – it was the funniest shit I’d seen in a long time or since. For two nights we relived a day of dissappointment and laugh as Neil and BLoody Pencil died in front of us. Mean, right? Well, by then, that was the kind of gorup we were. Unfortunately, it's not the kind we should have been, and it proved destructive.

That night, I delivered my best speech yet, the “Put You dick on the Chopping Block” speech. I can’t even remember what I said, all I can remember is I said the phrase: “We have to put our dicks on the chopping block!” repeatedly for an hour. I still consider it one of the best sayings I ever had, even if it is a little gay and masochistic.

Soon after, Neil left to focus on his acting. Ironically, the art jobs became more illustrious with the switch, and he even worked on a few books set for publication. Neil was one of the best artists I’ve seen and a damn good idea man. Together, in the early morning hours, chilling at his condo or talking on the phone, we came up with ideas that would have been amazing to see realized. I often wonder about getting him back, but I know it won’t happen.

The foursome became three. Soon, we’d lose another.

GROUP-MINDED Pt. 3

In the beginning, Gothic Studios had two books: Umbra and Clan of the Vein. Umbra later became Dead Souls and the story went from a game between Jesus and Lucifer, to five evil as fuck people being the only ones who can save humanity from the End Times.

Those were good times. Weeknights found me at Bloody Pencils house cranking out character designs and having general discussions on story and comics. Saturdays, we crashed at Neil’s condo in Silver Lake, before it became the gay man’s new Mecca.

One character, Priest, Bloody Pencil must have drawn twenty times, each time a new variation on the design. The cool thing about the character was these two ponytails the came down from his head like twisted devil horns. His head was completely bald, except for those two tails. A lot of things happened in those days to change things around. Gothic Studios became Danse Macabre when, at a convention, I found a comic by a company with the same name. Neil was the one who suggested Danse Macabre or Devil’s Dance, and it stuck. Later, with the emergence of DMX, I started referring to us as DMS. Are focus went more from horror to alternative, and are dreams a small group of artists publishing comics, went to dreams of being a publishing company with huge offices, movie deals, and millions of fans. But, for those first few months, it was magic.

The ideas flew fast, so fast we forgot more than we remembered. We were ahead of our time. The internet was new and we already had plans for a website. We had cinematic dreams before comic movies went blockbuster. And, to this day, we still have the best add complain ever…

Imagine four guys standing buck naked except for socks on their feet on a grimy street in Downtown Los Angeles. Each is holding a comic book over their private parts. Now, picture that as a poster and over their heads it reads: “Buy Our Comics…please.” I had another idea of the four of us chained to drawing and writing desks in a dungeon, with a dominatrix whipping our asses as we make comics. Similar tag line: “DMS – She’s Busting Our Asses for You.”

Our ideas were all over the place. I really miss those days of pure inspiration and uncensored dreams…. Never lasts long, though.

Like this whole thing started, the failure is on me, and its time I owned up to it. I never liked being a leader. I’ve done everything in my life not to be a leader. When our group came together, I tried to swing the responsibility away from my as often as possible. I claimed that this endeavor was a partnership, and so we all shared equal parts. What I was really doing was spreading the blame for any fuck ups as far from myself as possible. It was also my way of covering up that I knew nothing about the business or how to break in. I think that, despite my efforts, they still looked to me for leadership. Each with their expectations of what a leader is supposed to be and do.

My first mistake was growing too fast and not having balls enough to be exclusive. After I found the others, I added Vidom and Jonathan. That turned out to be a waste of time. I don’t even remember how the dropped off, but they did. Jonathan never was interested in American comics, and why he agreed to join us I still don’t know. Vidom wanted to join because Dark Shadows was on the cusp of disbandment. His mother and older brother had taken control of everything and he wanted that freedom again. He also wanted to work with me. But he had other problems, namely, a teenage girl pregnant with his child. I often wonder how he’s doing. Later came David, or Dave – I don’t remember which - and someone I had first met at Vidom’s, another artist, and they brought their book to us, Glacier. I think this is where things went bad. Bloody Pencil and Neil had no respect for Dave, his artist, or their book, and it was obvious form the start. I should have done something about it, told Dave we weren’t interested. After all, what had we done? Who were we to accept submission when we hadn’t even published a book and had no idea where we’d get the money? I was scared. Too scared with a low opinion of myself to do what had to be done. I kept asking myself who was I to be so righteous to deny someone anything. Besides, it was this “holier than thou” thing I wanted to get away from, give some guys a real chance. But, it was really about my fear. I couldn’t look someone in the face and tell me we weren’t interested because their work was sub-par. What if they said the same thing about mine?

PLAYING CARDS

Today I was reading the latest edition of Living in the Gutters at Comic Book Resources (comicbookresources.com), and there was mention of DC releasing a Batwoman series. For those not in the know, Batwoman is Kate Kane, and Kendra Kane is a lesbian. But, that’s not what pissed me off; it was this…

“The resulting coverage of the new Batwoman character over the last week has been surprising to some. Not so much the coverage, but the generally positive tone. Aside from a few cracks like the above title, criticism of pandering and a small minority of bigoted commentary, the coverage has been generally positive and welcoming. Some have seen this as indicative of a sea change, especially in American society. It's certainly different from the mauling Marvel received over "Rawhide Kid" which made them rather risk-averse in this area.”

“Small minority of bigoted commentary”, huh? Gee, how objective of Mr. Johnston.

Is it “bigoted” not to wave rainbow flags, pin red bows to our chests, and see DC’s latest shocker for what it is? I’ve made my feelings known when it comes to this orientation, but as a seeker of truth my argument is never one of hate, but honesty. Cut the bullshit out and put the real deal on the table. Don’t make us swallow it if we don’t want to, no one has to like or accept everything. Most of the world’s problems come from this need to make people accept one another. My motto is: Fuck acceptance, just don’t fuck with my shit or me and we’re cool.

Making that clear, it’s not bigoted commentary to stand against DC’s decision to use lesbianism to make a profit. And, if if you're swallowing DC's bullshit, then ask yourself why there aren’t more gay and lesbian characters in comics in their universe or any other? Probably the only time this maneuver was daring, and perhaps sincere, was the first time it happened with Marvel’s Northstar, but now it’s just a publicity move. This is the third time DC has played a gay card. The first was in Green Lantern. The second was giving Green Arrow’s sidekick the “gay disease.” Now this, a lesbian Batwoman, made all the worse by hiring a bisexual Devin Grayson to steer the course. Grayson destroyed Nightwing, and now she’s being given a high profile book - I wonder why? Since when has DC ever staffed a book according to the best person for the job? How many white writers wrote for black characters? By their past experience, DC should have hired a heterosexual man to write the book. I guess anyone can write for a black man, but not a gay person. Unless you knew one that died, right? Then you can write a graphic novel, do interviews, and write a major comci book series, but don't forget to play that gay card every now and then. After all, it’s not about the character’s sexuality, but their heroism that should take center stage, right?

It’s really pissing me off that ethnicities and sexualities that are shunned are being played for creativity when it’s nothing more than popularization and marketing. What’s really infuriating is the desperation of these interests groups for any kind of recognition. Doesn’t matter how obvious the ploy, anything with gay, lesbian, black, etc is automatically rewarded. Greed wins out and no one cares about the fallout. No one cares that, when you popularize something, it gets misused, misjudged, and mistreated.

When Fresh Prince of Bel Air hit the scene, everyone fell in love with it and rap went mainstream. It wasn’t until then that white America youth really went niggarish with hip-hop. 21 Jump Street and Booker put motorcycle jackets on the map. Michael Jordan sells shoes, and Melrose Place changed Melrose boulevard from edgy underground rock to preppy pop culture. So what happens when Dawson’s Creek, Will & Grace, and Queer as Folk took center stage?

I was on a bus heading to work and two girls no older than sixteen were sitting in front of me. I thought they were friends, until one got off the bus, and the other screamed out the window: “You better be a good girl, bitch! You’re my woman!” Now, I know with every generation the window of innocence shrinks, but I’ve yet to see when sixteen year olds have amassed enough self knowledge and discovery to determine their sexual orientation. Television and music has replaced the aged, but oh so young at heart physical education coach that initiates your boys and girls into alternative sexual lifestyles.

The inside joke about all of this is these shows do nothing, but promote the stereotypes. They don’t further understanding and acceptance. They give the truly fucked an excuse to become even more fucked. If gay men were obnoxious, they became more so thanks to Will & Grace's Jack because it became what was expected. They became impersonations. Worse, it made it easier to discriminate because they ceased being people and became television personas, caricatured versus paintings and portraits.

Don’t even get me started on pornography becoming mainstream, the ever-increasing number of young and beautiful girls who see it as an acceptable alternative to a legitimate career thanks to Jenna Jameson. They see Jenna as the norm and not the exception. They think if the become a centerfold will bring fame and glory. If I’ve learned anything watching Actor bounce from playmate to centerfold, it’s that Playboy only leads to the grotto and some 40-something actors’ lists of conquest. Better that than the ignorant females who gangbang liquor store attendants and rapers of Brazilian ass thinking it’ll lead to co-hosting gig on E’s Wild On.

I’m not against comic book characters being gay, I just want publishers to either be honest about their intentions, which they’ll never do, so they can just stay quite, or do it for the right reasons. Marvel not only has Northstar as a gay man in the regular comics, but in the Ultimate universe, and it’s never a big deal, but it should be. Because, while I’m not a big Marvel fan, the character is more sincere than anything I’ve seen to date. Where’s the article on Colossus being gay in Ultimate X-Men? Nowhere in the book does Peter come out and say I’m G-A-Y, but it’s mentioned, obvious, and true to that incarnation of the character. In fact, it raises a good point because Nightcrawler, the guy with blue fur and a tail, is homophobic and their already butting heads.

If DC is really all about being diverse, how about making one of their big moneymakers an example? What about Wonder Woman, that’s true to character. She was raised on an island of amazons, after all. How about having Tim Drake experiment in high school or question his sexuality. He’s at that age when boys and girls start to wonder, but not necessarily commit. How about an openly gay villain, or exploring the male victims of rape by either sex? Hey, Superman isn’t even human, shouldn’t he be a little “open” about his preferences? And Martian Manhunter can and has been anyone. If he’s been a woman, shouldn’t he be a little feminine at times? Not flaming, but able to “girl talk.” What about Green Arrow? He's a big ladies man. Used to be those were they ones who use dot get busy with the same sex behind closed doors. How about putting Steel or Black Lightening on the downlow? Hey, I can do this all day - Wonder Girl just had her boyfriend, perhaps her first serious love who she slept with, die. That usually sends girls screaming to the "carpet." And look at Raven, with an origin story like hers, you'd think she'd be put of by men. What about the Legion, all those planets and their all heterosexual? How much better would ID Crisis have been if the big secret wasn't the classic victimization of a woman, but the death of a hero who was killed because he or she was gay and a villain (or villains) found out? How cool would it have been to see the majors stunned to find out the secret this character hid for years and choosing sides between keepeing the secret hidden or exposing the truth , bringing them all under speculation. Plus, they have to catch the bad guy(s).

You’ll never see any of these because it’s all about money. If a publisher won’t take risks, put their dicks on the chopping block as it were, then how can you trust their sincerity? Answer: You can’t. Sure it's all about money to them, but don't stand on the soapbox if that's the reason. And for god sakes, all you bleeding heart, desperate utopeans,like Mr. Johnston, stop putting them on one. Let them be they are and say, "Gay folks, not black folks, equal book sales."

In almost everything I’ve ever written, there’s been at least one gay character in it because it’s been a major part of my life, negatively and positively. In Lazarus, my villain is gay and it’s part of his character. It’s part of his self-degradation and continuing sexual trauma. And, it’s never mentioned once. He's gay at the beginning, and he'll be gay at the end of the stroy. It’s true. It’s sincere. It’s real. I didn’t do it for the money; I did it to say something. It’s not about money. It’s about having something to say.

And that’s the end of today’s bigoted commentary.

JPG.