Brexit

That light you see is the sun finally setting over Britain. No longer Great, no longer United, just another land filled with petty nationalism and fear.

I’m trying my best to be optimistic and upbeat about everything but I’m struggling. Some people seem to think they’ve got their country back; I’ve lost mine. The shared narrative of the the British Nation has fractured, and I don’t think it can be put back together.

Maybe we’ll get something different, something good when this eventually settles down. Maybe it will even be for the best. It’ll never be what we had, though.

I want to be wrong and keep the Britain that I’ve mythologised in my head alive. Sadly I’m starting to wonder if it ever existed.

Too Many Relaunches?

Many years ago I sat and plotted out the first couple of years of a superhero universe. I never really did much with it, but I was always quite pleased with the publishing structure that I came up with. Given the current penchant for seemingly random reboots and relaunches, I thought I’d have a look at it again.

When I came up with it, I recognised that the ongoing series was a dying concept, with many of the new series that get launched struggling to get beyond twelve issues. I also recognised that the rise of event comics was slowly coming to dominate the superhero industry, and wasn’t handled as efficiently as it could be.

My first change from traditional publishing was to move towards a seasonal format, with series running for eight months a year. They could be made up of eight issues, or as many as sixteen, depending on popularity. They’d have the advantage of a new number 1 each season, as well as an easy way to drop and launch new titles each season.

That leaves four months each year, which I proposed to use solely for events. It gives plenty of time to run an a bi-weekly eight issue event with tie ins. The previous season can dovetail into it, and the new season would launch out of it. It would elegant and non-confusing, offering an annual jumping on point.

This would be the core of the universe. There’s space to publish limited series, one shots and annuals, and good length runs for collection purposes. It allows readers to see something other than the chaotic sprawl that we have at the moment with ongoing plots disrupted by events.

There are flaws, certainly. A poorly recieved event could tank four month’s worth of sales without the inertia of ongoing tie-ins, but there are risks with any event.

This a direction that I’d love to see the superhero industry take, one that recognises how much it has changed in the last decade or two. There’d be a new number one every year, without as much confusion as there is now. It would allow books to be retired for a season or two before being relaunched without seeming to be a failure.

Most importantly, it’d be friendly to both old and new readers. It’d be accessible but still rewarding to longterm fans. Which is surely what everyone wants.

Another Blue Monday

I woke up this morning to find that it’s Blue Monday. Apparently we all have an excuse for being depressed today. Which is nice. I don’t get an excuse any other day of the year.

I’ve watched news stories on how to beat the winter blues. I’ve found out about a Museum of Happiness, complete with mindfulness colouring. I’ve seen that the way to beat Blue Monday is to book a holiday, thanks to a series of ads on twitter.

For one day the world is concerned about how we can be happy. It’s a nice, friendly, fluffy day to make us all feel better. We can all get through this, is the message.

And then tomorrow we’re all on our own again.

For those of us with depression, every day is potentially Blue Monday. The only difference is that we don’t get a nice, simple reason for why we feel so down. We can’t say ‘it’s okay, it’s Blue Monday’ and laugh it off while playing with crayons.

In some ways it’s nice to see some discussion about depression. It’s been getting more traction as an issue in recent years, but can still quite often feel like you’re shouting into the abyss.

Depression is an incredibly hard thing to talk about. If you suffer from depression, the last thing you want to do is draw attention to it. As a society we’re still very uncomfortable with issues surrounding mental health. Talking about it can feel like drawing a target on yourself.

We need to talk about it, though. Statistically we all know someone with depression, and many of those people suffer in silence. Sometimes they may not want to talk about it, but often they do, they just don’t know how. We should let them know that they can. We need a society where telling someone that you suffer from depression isn’t met with an awkward silence and a sense of judgement.

So, this Blue Monday, take the time to talk to your friends. Let them know that you’re there for them, and that you won’t judge them if they have problems. But don’t stop there. Do it again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that.

Depression lasts longer than a day. Sometimes it feels like it’ll never go away. Be there for someone today and reassure them that tomorrow will always be better.

Too many ideas.

I should be working on the third draft of a novel right now. Well, I should be doing that and finishing the dialogue for a graphic novel too. These things have been hanging over me for far too long, taunting me, daring me to finsh them. That’s normally enough to actually spur me into action.

Not this time though. No, this time my brain has decided that it wants to write something entirely different. I can normally work around that. I quite often end up putting together a short story or two while I’m working on a larger project. This time, however, an entirely unrelated novel has popped into my mind, almost fully formed.

It’s one of those stories that wants to be written, and won’t go away until I’ve at least scribbled down the outline. It’s a good idea, one that I think I’ll enjoy writing. The problem is that it’s going to be a major commitment, when I really should be doing something else.

It’s not the worst problem in the world to have, but it’s frustrating. I’m hoping I can get the gist of it down and delay it for a month or two and still keep my enthusiasm for it. It’s something that I’d rather not end up in my graveyard of unfinished projects.

It would be nice to actually finish writing something some time soon though. I’m intending to get more in print this year than I managed last year. I’m not going to do that if I can’t actually focus, though.

My first comics love

I started reading US comics properly back in the ’90s. I have a healthy sense of nostalgia for the time, and look back fondly on a lot of the books. Getting into comics was an overwhelming experience, which was probably why I was drawn to the new titles, the ones without decades of history behind them, and nothing leapt out at me more than Marvel’s 2099 line.

It appealed to me on several levels. There was the sci-fi element, which I loved, and the dystopian setting, which appealed to my teenage self, especially since I’d just discovered William Gibson. The greatest pull, however, was the sense of being there at the start of something new. The 2099 line could be my Marvel Universe.

That was important. I didn’t have the weight of continuity crashing down on me, or the need to know the ins and out of character relationships. It was different, and it was mine. It’s probably the closest I’ve ever come to knowing how it must have felt discovering a whole universe from the start back in the silver age.

It wasn’t perfect. Some of the books barely scraped ‘average’, if I’m honest, but I bought them all. I lost myself in a place where I really could know everything that was going on, and read some truly memorable comics. Some, such as Warren Ellis’ Doom 2099 and Peter David’s Spiderman 2099 remain amongst the finest superhero comics I’ve ever read.

Like all good things, it didn’t last. The 2099 line was also my introduction to the internal politics of comic companies, and I mourned when the line was folded into a single book, before fizzling out. I attended the wake in 2099 Manifest Destiny, and I moved on.

There have been 2099 books since, indeed there’s one now, but they’ve never felt the same. The 2099 universe was my first great love in comics, and like all first loves, the reality never lives up to the memory. Now we pass each other amongst the racks and smile, remembering the good times we once had.

Marvel 2099 helped me get into comics, and I’ll always remember the line fondly. At the same time, I don’t mind that it’s gone. I just hope that there’s something out there now that in ten, fifteen years time someone like me will look back and on and think ‘that was where it all began’.

It’s important that’s there’s always something new. Something for the next generation to call their own. Something that they can have for themselves. Whatever it is, it doesn’t have to last forever. Like Marvel 2099 for me, the memory lingers, a reminder of why I love comics.

An unexpected webcomic

I have a webcomic currently up and running with my regular partner-in-crime, Rebecca Teall, which can be found at http://celari.weebly.com. Go take a look at it, and then come back here so I can talk about it a bit.

(Incidentally, if you have trouble getting rid of the cookie disclaimer, try shrinking the window to get the scroll bar so you can close it, or try reading it on a mobile device. It’s a pain, but we know about it and are trying to fix it.)

Okay, I’m going to assume that you’ve read it now. It’s a bit of a departure from our previous collaborations, in more ways than one. Perhaps most obviously, it’s odder than anything we’ve done before. It’ll get odder as it goes, but will strangely make more sense the further into it you get. It’s that kind of thing.

The biggest departure, from my point of view anyway, is on the creative side as this wasn’t originally a comic script. Many years ago I wrote a series of short prose pieces, each in the region of around 500 words. I wrote the first one after it came to me in a dream, and they have a kind of dream-logic consistency to them. I hadn’t really thought of doing anything with them for years, until Rebecca asked if I had anything a bit odder that she could have a look at at. I sent them to her, she liked them and asked if she could illustrate them, and you can see the result for yourselves.

It’s not the way that I’d normally write a comic, and I’m fascinated by the results. Rebecca is making her own mark on the story, which will get incorporated into future chapters as I come to write them, affecting the overall direction of travel. I also normally write full-script, which makes this is the closest that I’ve come to working Marvel-style, and it’s interesting experience. As I think about future chapters, it already feels a lot more collaborative than some of our previous work.

I don’t actually know where the story is going. I lost many of the original stories a laptop or two ago, and can’t remember exactly what I had planned. I’m going to have to try emulate my younger self a little, which is going to be quite an experience. ┬áIt’s one I’m enjoying so far, although I do wish the younger me had been better at backing things up.

Keeping Busy

I find it very hard to write just one thing at a time. I get distracted easily, with new ideas and scenes popping into my head while I’m trying to focus on whatever it is that I’ve sat down to do. It makes it difficult to concentrate, which is why I seem to have developed the habit of working on multiple projects at the same time. That way I can at least try to be distracted in a more productive manner.

Looking at what I have either open or in a state that I consider ‘active’ at the moment, I seem to be a bit on the busy side. There’s the next graphic novel with Rebecca, which still needs to have the dialogue added in, two separate webcomic ideas, a couple of short comic strips, a short story that is refusing to to behave and a novella. Looming in the distance behind all of that is the novel, which is in desperate need of a third draft.

Most of that is completely manageable. If something isn’t working at any given time, I can move over to something else and work on that. I’m hoping that the plot point that needs resolving in the short story will pop into my head while I’m thinking about something else, for instance. Most, if not all, of it will get finished off at some point. It’s the novel that’s causing me sleepless nights.

In order to redraft eighty-odd thousand words, I need to be able to be solely focused on it, which means clearing the decks of everything else that I want to do for the next month or so so I can give it the attention it needs. I’m quite a fast writer once I get going, but the prospect of focusing on just one thing for such a long period of time fills me with trepidation, yet, despite that, I can feel the need to do it building up in me, as if somewhere in my mind I’ve decided that it’s time to do it.

So I’m clearing the decks now so I can get it out of the way, and come back to the pile of stuff that’s waiting to get out of my note book and onto the screen. Which includes the next novel, already making itself known. I really can’t focus on just one thing at a time.

My life as a museum piece

The first time I felt old was when I failed utterly to get the appeal of emo. Not the classic emo of Fugazi and Minor Threat, but the modern version that struck me as a whinier form of goth. Sure, there was some good music there, but the scene itself passed over my head, and I knew I wasn’t the young audience that it was marketed to anymore.

I felt old again when the eighties revival swung around, but in a qualified way. It was the half-remembered soundtrack of my childhood, almost new to me at times. I didn’t have a connection to it in a way that made it mine, rather it was still my parents generation who were living through it again.

Now we have the inevitable nineties revival, and I finally feel truly old. Watching documentries about the music scene and seeing a new generation citing it as an influence in the same way mine claimed T Rex and The Jam, I know that I’ve gone past the point of no return. I am old, and the grey hairs that I keep finding aren’t going to go away.

It’s odd. One minute I was in the heart of everything, knowing that if we did meet up in the year 2000 it was still impossibly far away, and now I’m looking back and thinking about how long ago it was. It isn’t that it was better then, not at all. I’m a much happier person now then I ever was in my youth. It’s just weird. I’ve finally noticed time catching up to me.

All the leaves are brown…

Autumn has finally arrived. I’m not entirely sure why, but it’s always been my favourite season. I like the colours, burnt oranges and browns, and I like the temperature, not too hot, but not yet too cold either. I quite like a bit of rain, too, so long as I’m inside listening to the sound of it on the windows. I don’t even mind the nights starting to draw in. I’ve always like being able to stop off for a coffee in the evening while it’s dark and the shops are still open.

One of the oddest things that comes with autumn, for me at least, is a renewed level of creativity. It’s almost completely counterintuitive to me. I suffer from SAD (Season Affective Disorder), which makes me more depressed as we head into winter, yet I always get a great outpouring of ideas along with it. When I’m depressed I normally lose all motivation and have been known to lose the ability to write anything meaningful for months, but when I get it as autumn rolls around, I get a burst of energy alongside it.

So I now have a rush of ideas raging like a torrent in my brain, all trying to make their way out onto the page, along with what I know is going to be a finite amount of energy to realise them with. It can be frustrating, knowing that I may not be able to get everything out before all motivation leaves me. I have half-finished stories and fragments cluttering my hard drive already, alongside discarded notes and story titles without a story to go with them. But in amongst all of that, I’ll get a few completed stories, or usable outlines at least, which makes it all worth it.

I never know how long it’s going to last for. Sometimes it’s only for a week or two. Some years the energy doesn’t go away, and I’ll keep going until whenever the next big crash comes along. I never know when that’s going to be, so I just keep going, and hope that I can finish as much as possible while there are still a few leaves on the trees.

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