Thursday, May 2, 2013

I'm sick of white dudes



When The Wrap broke the scoop this morning that actor Michael B. Jordan (who's African American) might be cast as Johnny Storm in the new Fantastic Four film, I didn't even bother waiting for the whiny tweets to start up before posting the tweets above. I knew they'd be coming, like clockwork. 

Here's the thing. I understand fearing change. I wouldn't want to watch a Spider-Man movie where the character is a homicidal maniac, because that is contrary to the spirit of the character. But, and I'm going to put this in italics so you can tell I'm serious...

THERE IS NOTHING ABOUT THE CORE HUMAN TORCH'S CHARACTER THAT PRECLUDES HIM FROM BEING BLACK. AT ALL.

The only argument against Human Torch being black is that he wasn't conceived as black. But guess what...NO superheroes were conceived as black when Human Torch was created. That is not a valid reason that he should be Aryan for the rest of eternity in every possible medium.

There's nothing wrong with white dudes per se. Iron Man 3 opens tonight and it is an excellent movie chockfull of white dudes. (Even notorious Asian villain The Mandarin is played by Sir Ben Kingsley, but trust me when I say this is a good thing in every possible way.) [EDIT: It's been pointed out to me that Ben Kingsley is part Indian, which I didn't know. The Mandarin is still way awesome.] There are no shortage of superhero films fronted by white dudes. I'm ready to see something different.

And the fact is, it's not just in my consumed entertainment. I'm tired of writing white dudes. At least, white dudes as default main characters. I'm not a black woman, or a transgendered person, or any other number of identification combos. But I'm interested in exploring the commonalities and differences I have with these people way more than just dropping in another white dude because I'm a white dude and I know how white dudes live.

I always joke that the reason there are so many advertising guys as protagonists in movies and TV is because advertising is the only day job that writers can picture themselves doing because it's kind of like writing. As writers, we should be trying to move outside ourselves, at least a little bit. You know every character is going to be you in some way anyway. Isn't it more interesting if they've at least got some major differences from you that you can explore?

So please, for the love of humanity, if you're going to complain about a fictional character's race being swapped on-screen...don't. Don't be that guy. Ask yourself, is the core of the character being compromised...or is my own sense of comfort and familiarity?

Friday, November 30, 2012

Star Wars is Forever



It’s been several weeks now since it was announced that I’m writing a Star Wars graphic novel for Dark Horse Comics. In that time, I’ve intended to blog about it, but I’ve never been able to actually get started.

How should I approach writing about this, especially given that I’ve been sitting on this announcement for three quarters of a year? For one thing, it’s easily the biggest thing that’s happened in my comics writing “career” - at least since I published my first comic, if not ever. For another, just by virtue of the strength of the brand, there’s a good chance that more people will read this comic than just about anything I’ll ever write.

And then there’s the fact that Star Wars has been in my life for literally as long as I can remember. Before I ever read a comic book (or anything, for that matter), Star Wars was there. I saw Return of the Jedi in theaters when I was about three years old. I had the Kenner action figures. I had ROTJ wallpaper border in my room until I was in college. I had a poster on the wall with an inscription I stole for the title of this blog: Star Wars is Forever. Also on my wall: two pieces of original art - Star Wars pin-ups my dad drew for Marvel UK comics. One of the biggest culture shocks of my life was the first time I left my job at Wizard and went to work at a company where no one knew who Bib Fortuna was.

Star Wars is so intrinsic to my identity, but unlike a lot of other things I’m a fan of I never considered writing for it. (Other than, of course, chronicling the adventures of four lovable Stormtroopers in several episodes of Twisted ToyFare Theatre). It felt like something that was there for my enjoyment, not for my use - possibly because so much of it spilled from the mind of just one man.

But when the call came from my editor, the incomparable Dave Marshall,  asking if I wanted to pitch some stories for Dark Horse’s kid-friendly line of Clone Wars graphic novellas, I didn’t think twice. Of course I did. Dave explained that kid-friendly doesn’t mean juvenile. I should write the kind of Star Wars story I’d want to read, and just avoid graphic violence.

That raised a question I’d never had to consider before: What exactly is it about Star Wars that I enjoy? Choose carefully, because you’ll have to build a story around it.

It turns out that I’m not a big fan of space battles, because none of the stories I pitched involved them. I like Jedis and lightsabers - they were central to all of the plots. I like the sense of adventure and the strong hero’s quest that are central to Episode IV especially.

Coming up with stories that felt worthy to add to the canon (and don’t think I wasn’t mindful the entire time that anything I created would have to be added to Wookieepedia at some point) was possibly the most intimidating assignment I’ve ever had.

In the end, I’m proud of what I came up with and what Dave helped me craft into the final story. I’m especially proud of how good it looks - the artwork from my S.H.O.O.T. First collaborator Ben Bates and the colors by Michael Atiyeh make this the best-looking Star Wars comic that I’ve ever seen. (Seriously - you have to check this thing out.) I’m really looking forward to people getting to read it - especially my daughters. I’ve never written something they could read before, and certainly never something that they’d understand is a big deal. But they know Star Wars. Everyone knows Star Wars.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars - Defenders of the Lost Temple hits stores on March 13, 2013, and it’s available to order now wherever books and comics are sold. I’m sure I’ll have a lot more to say about it as we get closer to release.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

The World is So Big


So today's xkcd comic is setting the Internet on fire (and trending on Twitter earlier), and with good reason. It's breathtaking. According to Comic Mix it may be the biggest comics panel ever, and exploring around it reminded me of the sense of wonder that Super Mario Bros. creator Shigeru Miyamoto says that he wanted to capture in the original game. (Coincidence that there's an extended Mario riff in the xkcd comic?

As the guy with the balloon says, the world (our world that is) is so big, and that's something that strikes me at odd times. Sometimes I'll be sitting in my car in traffic, and I'll think, "There's at least one person in every one of these cars, and every one of those people has at least 16 years of experiences and memories on this Earth. Every one of them loves someone and is keeping a secret from someone and wants something so much." It's staggering. And that's one stretch of road at one moment. Extrapolate it to the entire world and it's not just staggering — it can stop you in your tracks.

Choice is one of the hardest things writers deal with. As a writer, you can tell the story out of any of the people on that road, or in the world, or in worlds that don't exist. It's hard as hell to nail down. I love writing (I recently tweeted that probably means I'm doing it wrong), but I'm in my least favorite part of my next project right now - Russell T. Davies calls it The Maybe. Anything could happen, and it's your challenge to figure out what the hell will. It's an uncomfortable space and I'm a fairly structured person, and I'll feel worlds better when I've got everything organized into an outline. Until then, my brain is never truly at rest, which is exhausting for me and the people around me.

What does that have to do with xkcd? Well, as the guy with the balloon says, the world (the world of this one comic) is so big. And as you drag your mouse around it, you encounter dozens (I'm guessing - I didn't have time to check out the whole thing, I confess) of Randall Munroe's characteristic stick figures, all frozen at one moment in time. It's not sequential storytelling in its truest form. The sequence of events is that you discover different parts of the world.

But.

But, what if it was? What if each of those people in the comic were then given a subsequent moment, and then another? What if you went back every day and followed their adventures? Could you take the choice that's inherent in writing and, through a massive and persistent world, make it into a choice for readers? You couldn't possibly follow all of these people every day, but could you find your favorites and look out for them?

Could a team of creators take a persistent and massive "world map" like this and tell distinct stories about different characters, who move across the landscape and occasionally encounter each other? Could you create the equivalent of a Massively Multiplayer Online Game, but for comics?

I don't know, and people with brighter minds than mine have probably already considered it. But this one comic certainly opened my eyes to a lot of possibilities. A lot more choices. And hell, the world was already so full of choices.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

(RE):Vision

The Doctor: Patron Saint of Revising

Have you heard the good news? I’ve found religion! I’ve joined the cult of Revision—please allow me to testify to you about it.
 
I’ve been a writer for many, many years, but I was always a revision denier. To me, whatever came out of my head and ended up on the page was sacred. A second draft was the one that I ran spellcheck on. On the rare occasions that I did take notes from someone, my goal was always to incorporate them with as few changes to my original draft as possible.

But now I’ve seen the light! My conversion to Revision must be a religious experience, because I’ve been preaching to my writer friends non-stop about it. I realize now that writing is revision, and I was just doing it all wrong before.

So what changed? Well, I can’t say it was any one specific “Come to Jesus” moment, but there were three big events that really opened my eyes.

The first was that I finished and published my first original graphic novel, Hero House. And while I’m immensely proud of it (and you should buy it here, or buy it digitally here!), there were a few nagging things that bothered me about it when it was all said and done. And unfortunately, they were all things that I should have caught in a second draft—mostly characters and plotlines that seemed to go nowhere. I started to wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have paid closer attention before finalizing the script.

Next, I read a book called “The Writer’s Tale” by Russell T. Davies (with Benjamin Cook). It’s just 600 or so pages of email correspondence from the showrunner of the relaunched Doctor Who, written at the time that he was writing and running his final episodes. It’s an amazing, unfettered look into a writer’s head during the entire process of writing, and even if I wasn’t a huge fan of every single episode from this period, seeing how they came together is utterly fascinating.

Davies also has a very similar (although more tortured) process to how I write, sweating out an idea in his head for a long time before committing it to paper. What truly inspired me, though, was watching him revise. He’d come up with an idea, he’d love it, but then he’d thoroughly think it through, and make sure that everything that happened in the script was in service of story. Suddenly, whole plotlines and characters that he really enjoyed would disappear, and the scripts would be the better for it. It was the first time I’d seen what it could really look like when someone committed to revision, and it made a believer out of me. Appropriate for a book about a show about a guy who can change everything about himself when things get dire. You just know the Doctor is a big Reviser.

So now I was a believer in Revision, but I hadn’t yet accepted it as my personal savior and been born again. That can only come in times of crisis, and with the help of a spiritual adviser. For me, that came from working on my first project (not yet announced) with a truly talented editor. I worked and worked on my story, and even did a little bit of revising on my own when my opening wasn’t working for me (although only as little revision as possible to keep as much intact as possible). Finally, proud of what I’d done, I handed it in and awaited notes.
What I saw when I opened the marked up documents was an ocean of red. My heart sank.

But I spoke to my editor and heard his concerns, and suddenly everything he was saying seemed incredibly reasonable. Not just reasonable—obvious. I realized that I was going to have to do what Davies does; I was going to have to truly revise, not just put a coat of polish on it. So I did something I’d never done before: I threw out vast chunks of what I’d written. At least 2/3 of the story was completely cut away and redone. And I’ll be damned if what I ended up with wasn’t worlds better than what I handed in at first.

Obviously this religious metaphor is a bit of a goof, but I’ve honestly come to think (and talk) about revision in spiritual terms. I’ve talked friends’ ears off recently about how writing can be elemental, but revision is taking those elements and truly making them work for you, like what a wizard would do. Revision makes you a wizard. That’s how I sell it.

I may not be the most qualified person to give writing advice, but I feel 100% confident in giving this: don’t try to go it alone. Find a reader you trust and listen to what they tell you. Think about your story based on feedback, and be open to the possibility of changing what you’ve written. If my new religion had a Bible, that would be Page 1.

Unless you’ve got a better idea. I’m open to hearing it.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Quentin Tarantino and the Blue Duck


My wife Brooke and I were discussing Pulp Fiction recently, specifically which of its three plotlines is our favorite. I’m partial to Jules and Vincent’s Very Bad Day. She prefers the Butch story, with the exception of the sequence we both agree is the weakest in the film: the extended cab ride with Esmarelda Villalobos. I said it felt to me like Tarantino just had an idea or fetish for a sexy foreign cab driver character who was obsessed with death, and just figured, “Hey, I’ll squeeze her in here! Why the hell not?”

“Esmarelda Villalobos,” my wife said, “is a Blue Duck.”

I cracked up and declared that she was absolutely right, and that this should be the name for all such Esmeralda Villa Lobos type things going forward. They are Blue Ducks.

For those of you not familiar with the classic of modern cinema that is Adam Sandler’s Billy Madison (it was the first movie I bought on DVD because I figured I’d want to watch it over and over, and damned if I wasn’t right), when man-child Billy is repeating the First Grade (it’s a long story), his final assignment is coloring. As his teacher stands over him, Billy says, unprovoked, “I drew a blue duck because I’ve never seen a blue duck before and, frankly, I wanted to see a blue duck.”

So a Blue Duck in film or other arts would be something that only exists because the author wants to see it. I’m not saying it’s always a bad thing, either. In Tarantino’s latest film, Inglourious Basterds, I laughed out loud in the theater every time a touch came on screen that was just so obviously something Tarantino wanted to do because he could. Why does Hugo Stiglitz get giant ’70s grindhouse titles of his name when he’s introduced when nothing else of that style exists in the movie? Because eff you, that’s why. It serves no purpose to the larger story, other than reminding you that you’re watching a Tarantino film. It’s a Blue Duck.

My guess would be that Blue Ducks most often turn up in the work of auteurs who can’t be told that their work needs editing, or in the work of well-meaning amateurs who figure they have one shot at greatness and try to squeeze every cool idea they ever had into their first project.

Can you think of any other Blue Ducks in the worlds of film, literature or comics? Share them in the comments. But most importantly, next time you see one, don’t forget what they’re called. What do YOU think, Mr. Duck?

“That’s Quacktastic!”

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

...Ask Questions Later

So today’s the day. I am now officially published by Dark Horse Comics, as my short story with artist Ben Bates, “S.H.O.O.T. First: The Wooden Saint,” is online as part of MySpace Dark Horse Presents #35, along with short stories by the wonderful Stan Sakai, Gabriel Ba and Art Baltazar. You can find it online here.

It’s been quite a ride to get to this point—just over 8 months (as opposed to the just over 5 years it took Hero House to come together, of course) since I first had the idea. So first and foremost, I need to thank my wife Brooke for being my initial reader and telling me she thought it was a good idea. I want to thank my editor at Dark Horse, Dave Marshall, who’s an incredible editor and has never given me a bad note; Dark Horse Senior Managing Editor Scott Allie, who is a legend and who kindly gave the project the greenlight; and Ben Bates, who injected an awful lot of life into the idea with his awesome art.

The last couple of weeks have also been really wild, starting with this interview with Comics Alliance that first revealed the concept behind S.H.O.O.T. First (they’re the Secular Humanist Occult Obliteration Taskforce—a team of atheist commandos who hunt down supernatural and especially religious creatures that they don’t believe in). That led to this article on the Robot 6 blog, which then got picked up by FARK, The Examiner and Discover’s Bad Astronomy blog, which led to a lot of discussion of the idea. Which is a good thing. I was kind of expecting the core of the concept to take some religious people aback, but so far, at least, nearly all of the controversy over it has come from atheists! I’m hoping to keep the conversation going now that the story is out (it premiered online yesterday at Comic Book Resources, along with another interview with me) and people can hopefully see how the idea works in execution (heh), not just in theory.

You can also find interviews with me that touch on both S.H.O.O.T. First and Hero House here at Mapcidy (where I also answer the legendary questions of Bernard Pivot), and one at The Fwoosh.

Now, as I keep mentioning in these interviews, there are more S.H.O.O.T. First stories to tell, if I get the chance. I wrote out an outline for a mini-series with the characters that I’m really excited about. If you’re interested in seeing it, do me a favor and drop Dark Horse a line on Twitter or Facebook and let them know. Or, if you’re a comic publisher who’d be interested in seeing the outline, drop me a line on Facebook, on Twitter or at herohousecomic [at] gmail [dot] com.

So, because I’m always interested in process and I know a lot of other people are too, here’s the original outline for the 8-pager that I submitted to Dark Horse. I’ll probably put up the script and the character descriptions I sent to Ben as well in the near future. But here’s the document that started it all…

S.H.O.O.T. First

Short story proposal by Justin Aclin

“They don’t believe in the supernatural…they’re just here to kick its ass.”

“The exorcism was going just fine,” the narrator tells us. We’re in a country farmhouse where a young girl is confined to a bed, sickly looking and screaming in tongues. A priest is admonishing a demon to leave her in the name of yadda yadda…we know this drill. The priest, however, is brandishing a holy relic to help him in his crusade—the Acadian Driftwood, whose knots have been known to resemble different saints at different times.

All was going according to script, until they kicked down the girl’s bedroom door. S.H.O.O.T.: the Secular Humanist Occult Obliteration Taskforce. To S.H.O.O.T. there are no saints or demons or angels or yetis or what have you. There are just humans, and then the Outside Actors who are playing a game and using humans as their checkers. And it is S.H.O.O.T.’s sole mission to track down these Outside Actors and hit them with bullets.

They’re a motley crew. There’s Kenshin, a former Shinto practitioner who saw the ancestors he revered return as ghosts to prey upon the living and lost his faith in anything he couldn’t see. There’s Bett, who as a child in the late 19th century wandered into a field of fairies and unicorns and disappeared, only to turn up 100 years later, unaged and with no memory of the intervening century, clutching a bloody unicorn horn she still uses as a weapon. There’s the new recruit, Codename: Infidel. He was a translator for the U.S. military in Afghanistan until he saw things that made him question everything he believed. Now he lives without a name to protect his family from the death sentence he’s brought upon himself. There’s Lord Byron, an aging punk nihilist who enjoys trampling upon the sacred and inflicting violence and finally found a vocation that combines them both. There’s the team’s field leader, Mrs. Brookstone, a [redacted]. And there’s Robot. He’s a robot.

The Outside Actors are powerful, but the assumptions and importance that people of faith put on them empower them even more. S.H.O.O.T.’s secret weapon is that they think it’s all bullshit, robbing their adversaries of an advantage. When they enter the room, Lord Byron brandishes a gun and tells the priest to screw, because his belief is interfering with their powerful cynicism field. The priest starts to flee, but Bett blocks his path and tells him to leave the log. Suddenly a humanoid figure made out of wood springs out of the Driftwood—it’s the Wooden Saint, the spirit who had been inhabiting the relic, and it’s making a break for it down the hall. Mrs. Brookstone barks orders for Kenshin, Infidel and Robot to chase it with her and for Bett and Lord Byron to stay behind and take care of the possession.

Lord Byron tries to convince the demon to leave the girl willingly, but it’s understandably reluctant. So Bett pulls out the big guns—literally. They’re guns that shoot metaphysical bullets, which should pass harmlessly through a human and injure the demon residing within. The demon doesn’t buy it, but rather than risk being a sitting duck it jumps out of the girl and tries to jump through the second story window to freedom, but Bett is able to grab it and execute it.

Meanwhile in the farmhouse den, the rest of S.H.O.O.T. searches for the Wooden Saint. As Kenshin passes by a portion of the wood-paneled wall, the disguised Saint peels itself off the wall and makes a run directly through the middle of the team, so that they’re unable to shoot at it. It nearly escapes and the team pursues, guns blazing. Just as it’s about to clear the door and make it outside, Robot smashes through a nearby wall and clotheslines it, enabling the bullets to find their marks. As it lies dying, the Saint asks, “Why? I’m just doing the Lord’s work.” Mrs. Brookstone informs it that they’re just doing humanity’s work, and tells Robot to get a tissue sample to take back to the lab.

We then cut to the narrator, in shadows, on his cell phone. He or she has been relaying the entire story so far to someone on the other end, who says, “This is excellent intelligence. I know it can’t be easy for you to betray your friends like this. How do I know I can continue to trust you?” The narrator says, “I’ve come to realize that sometimes you need to have a little faith.” The man on the other end of the phone, from his office in the Vatican, knows exactly what the narrator is talking about.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

The Day a Comic Drove Me Insane


Okay, the headline isn't exactly correct - it was more than a comic that drove me crazy. But the comic was a part of it. The comic in question was Kurt Busiek's Astro City #1/2 (a Wizard 1/2 issue!), which if you haven't read you really should. Because I'm about to spoil it for you, and it's very very good.

Basically (spoiler) it's a story about a man who's haunted by visions of a woman he's never met, and in the end it turns out that she was his wife, and as a result of a cosmic superhero crisis in the past she ends up never being born. And it's very, very upsetting. You can see some panels from it here. I got thinking about it again this week when it came up in a conversation I was having about Lost. If you saw this week's episode you'll understand why.

But thinking about the story made me think about the first time I read it, when it kind of drove me insane.

A little background first: F0r the past eight years, minus a few months, I've worked at Wizard Entertainment, which was located in beautiful, scenic (and nearby) Rockland County. Then, for four months in 2008, I went to work in Manhattan at a trade magazine called License! Global. (The exclamation mark was part of the name). Suddenly I went from commuting two hours a day to commuting five hours a day, taking a train from nearby my house down to Secaucus New Jersey, then transferring onto a crowded train into mega-crowded Penn Station, then taking an even more crowded subway to the office. It was awful. Then I got my current job back at ToyFare and I was back to Rockland County and the shorter commute. Hoorah!

Then, right after my second daughter was born, Wizard announced that they were moving all the staff into their New York City offices. Which, let me tell you, is not so bad right now. I discovered that if I took the bus instead of the train I didn't have to transfer or go into Penn Station, and it really made a difference. However, the first week we moved into the city, for various reasons, I had to take the train in, which made me fairly well miserable. Add to this the fact that I was doing a lot of the night feedings for the baby, and I wasn't getting an awful lot of sleep at the time. And that's the atmosphere I was in when I read Astro City #1/2, on the train on the way to work.

It knocked me for a loop. Losing your family is the greatest fear of anyone who has a family, and here was a really heart-rending story about just that. It hit me like a punch in the gut. So we arrive in Secaucus, I get off and get on the crowded train to Penn Station.

And in the crowd on the train, I happen to see someone reading a paper - one of NY's abysmal tabloids, probably the Post. And this was the entirety of the headline of the story I saw:

SHE DIES IN A FIRE

That's it. No further information, weird use of the present tense.

SHE DIES IN A FIRE

So given that I was exhausted and depressed and had just had my mind #$%ed by a story about lost loves and time travel, I came to the only logical conclusion: I became convinced that the newspaper was from the future, and it was trying to warn me that one of my three girls was going to die.

I was floored. Devastated. I knew it couldn't be possible, of course, but at the moment I couldn't convince myself it was anything else. I just kept coming back to "Why would the headline be written that way?"

Of course I later realized that the Post is just a terrible, awful paper, which is why the headline was written that way.

I don't think I felt totally better until I got to work and was able to Google the headline and figure out that, yes, it was an actual story about someone else. But for those several minutes, I was convinced that the future was trying to warn me of a terrible occurrence through a newspaper headline glimpsed on the train.

And that's how a comic book drove me (temporarily) insane. Although, in retrospect, it was probably more the terrible headline writing of the NY Post that did it.