I don’t think I’m built for this.
Commendations to any man or woman with the mental composition necessary to survive, and possibly even thrive, in this nine to five, forty hour a week grind into the concrete masquerading as a typical work week. Wait a minute…I’m overstating. Anyone that spends an entire week doing something they do not absolutely love should be classified as a modern-day hero. And I’m talking a summer blockbuster, smoking gun in hand after being half-bludgeoned by an arch nemesis type of hero.
Either that or they aren’t writers, possessed by a genetic quirk that allows what could be to completely overshadow what just happened. Thankfully, the Writer Mind refuses to remain imprisoned by a time clock and name badge, resulting in many a shift at “work” huddled in a corner with pen and pad, frantically scribbling towards the future.
My reading list only complicates matters. Foregoing the likely embarrassment this admission will likely cause, I’ve only recently (meaning the last few months) been introduced to DC/Vertigo’s Preacher and Transmetropolitan. Yes, yes I know. Don’t start. I’ve finally completed re-wiring my brain, erasing several years of early 90s drivel from the record, and coming to exist as the enlightened animal that stands before you. As a result, much of the seminal work conducted at DC’s mature imprint passed over my head, and at the expense of my street credibility, I’m slowing catching up on past hits.
As if I need something else to be intimidated by.
There’s even some worthwhile television out there, albeit in a limited form. ER, Smallville, John Doe, and Buffy have all stirred the creator within, and 24 hasn’t even started yet. Next Tuesday without commercial interruptions by the way. Check your local listings for the specific time, and do not disturb me while viewing under penalty of death.
Through the haze of sensory overload that is the result from frequent contact with the New Hotness, I’m come to a terrible understanding. I’m surrounded at nearly every turn by some manner of genuine quality immortalized in creative history, serving to both terrify and inspire…and my name isn’t on any of it.
This must change.
This week I am issuing an official summons for a few good artistic contributors. For every notebook filled with concepts, plots, and scripts, there exists not one single artistic representation for anything I’ve ever created. The threshold by which this remains acceptable has been crossed, and realizing that I have trouble rendering stick figures with any discernible skill, it has become necessary to enlist collaborators. With the ‘net at my disposal, and this convenient weekly platform, the process shouldn’t be too difficult. But I have a habit of being slightly naïve so we’ll have to see what happens.
Feel free to help me disseminate the following advertisement to any and all places where talent may be present.
Brandon Thomas is the writer of the long-running Ambidextrous column on SBC, and was picked by Mark Millar as “one to watch.” Thomas has pitched for inclusion in the Marvel Universe Double Shot and Captain America: Red, White, and Blue OGN in the past year.
Interested parties should send e-mail inquires to firstname.lastname@example.org for further details.
Brandon Thomas is an equal opportunity writer committed to New Hotness in the industry.
If anyone out there knows of any venues that the preceding transmission may strike oil, please feel free to cut and paste, or drop me a note so I can achieve better market penetration. Sorry about the length, but next week we’ll discuss the real-time comic I haven’t gotten to do yet, and I’m psyching myself up to write an article comparing the contents of Wizard to that of Entertainment Weekly to silence some of the more idiotic complaints that people have in regards to The Guide to Comics.
New Hotness as scheduled…
The New Hotness:-
Y-The Last Man #4 (Brian Vaughan/Pia Guerra)
One of the best new launches of the year continues to give ordinary titles the business. Yorick, the last man, continues his fascinating journey through Vaughan’s science fiction epic that manages to present societal commentary tackling issues of class, politics, and gender while offering solid and believable characters. Natural exposition flies between Yorick and Agents 355, providing appropriate development for the characters and the world they’re now living in that’s seen our nation’s phallic shaped monument turned into a shrine to a fallen chromosome. And that’s even before the crazed amazons with the missing breasts show up. Gotta love that cliffhanger ending too…
Fantastic Four #62 (Mark Waid/Mike Wieringo)
It takes something exceptionally clever to make me pay attention to the FF. Like a Grant Morrison. Or a Carlos Pacheco. Or a Mark Waid with Ringo in tow. Promises of bold interpretations and nine-cent comics sounded “clever” enough to bring me back, and after a two-month warm-up, Waid shows just how good the FF can be. The award-winning scribe has always excelled at realistic character interactions, but he proves that delivering a dangerous antagonist is well within his capabilities as the FF come under attack from a mathematical equation. Don’t snicker at me. Witness what fucked-up Algebra does to Marvel’s first family and pretend you won’t be back next month…………………that’s what I thought.