Come and see my magical comic book presentation.

No - the title isn't a sly euphemism.  I'm really going to be speaking as part of a presentation on comics TONIGHT! at the Northeast branch of the New Hanover County public library.  I wrote about this a few weeks ago and mentioned that this is being sponsored by Wilmington's Fanboy Comics as part of their extended Free Comic Book Day celebration.  It takes place from 6:00-8:00 pm, which means that I should still be able to catch most of the Penguins hockey game...because clearly, that is the most pressing thing going on for me this evening.

The program will highlight the comic book career of local artist Tom Fleming and will include a Q&A session with Tom and other local creators (I'll try to use as little sarcasm as possible when answering questions).  Chick-Fil-A will be providing sandwiches - like manna from Heaven - for all attendees free of charge, as well!  Did I ever mention that I met the Chick-Fil-A cow?  Well, I did, and it was very sweet.  Oh, and I guess I'll sign some comics or something if anyone is interested.

This is all a rather auspicious moment for me, and I'm looking forward to being a part of the program.  I spoke with Tom when we met at the Pittsburgh Comicon, and he suggested I put some information together on how writers approach the comic book creation process...so I did, and I'll be talking about that tonight for a few minutes.  I've even put together a PowerPoint and everything (and posted a damn picture of it, of all things)!  Here's hoping that I do a better job at presenting than my students do in the public speaking class I teach...because those are usually pretty terrible.  On the other hand, if watching people fail miserably brings joy to your life, show up and watch, because there's always the chance!

If you'd like to show up, here's the address:

1241 Military Cutoff Road
Wilmington, NC 28405

Remember, it's not the main branch - it's the Northeast branch.  If I hadn't just done a search for the address, I would have honestly gone to the main branch and thus missed the entire thing.  That would have been bad.  See you there!

My apparent submarine obsession

It didn't hit me until I saw it.

Last month Duane sent over an inked copy of our first issue's page eight, which takes place, as you can see from the picture to the right, on a high-tech submarine out in the open water.  I had written the script calling for the sub, but until I saw the finished product I didn't realize that I, apparently, have some weird fascination with the water-faring craft.  I can't explain it, but it must be true.

A few years ago I wrote a short story titled "The Deep," which was very ably handled art-wise by Jason Seabaugh, Rusty Gilligan and Adnan Virk.  The story deals with two poker-playing skeletons trapped on a sunken...wait for it...submarine.  Now, two appearances don't in and of themselves make for a mental disorder per se, but the fact that they keep sneaking into my subconscious is interesting nonetheless.  If you click on the picture, you'll see a clip from page eight of Teddy and the Yeti #1 on top, while the sub from "The Deep" is on bottom.  Great stuff from both art teams.

Spending time dwelling on these ships reminds me of a piece of my own history.  Like many people my age, I had a grandfather who served in World War II (the other barely missed being drafted, turning 18 in September of 1945 and being stationed in post-war Japan).  My father's father spent time aboard a submarine in the European theater, seeing active combat in what I could only guess would be a terrifying sequence of events the likes of which I'll never be able to comprehend.  His ship was attacked and hit with a torpedo that crashed through the hull, striking my grandfather and breaking his back.  The torpedo, however, was a dud and therefore did not explode (my grandfather, who also went blind from the incident, later regained his ability to walk and see, much to the doctor's amazement).

This is an incredible story of its own right, but when I think about how it pertains to me and my very existence...well, it's more than a little worrisome.  To think, the only reason I'm alive - the only reason my dad and uncles and aunt and sisters and cousins are alive for that matter - is because some Nazi building torpedoes screwed up and didn't do his job.

Kind of scary.