17 pages into script & thumbs for the very last installment of THE SOLAR GRID. Listening to the characters and letting them take control rather than force anything that really shouldn't happen.
Endings are the most sensitive part of any story, especially ones that've been 8+ years in the making.
16 Celsius in Mexico City today, but I swear it feels more like 6. Even if the weather apps claim otherwise. It's the humidity, which just as it tends to make things warmer come summer, makes the world much colder in winter. It's the kinda cold that gets into your bones. Mexico City in December is evidently not for me.
But I did make a breakthrough in THE SOLAR GRID today, a singular plot point (albeit a rather drastic one) in the very last chapter that allows for the ending I've always wanted to come together more smoothly. So, all is well.
Very flattering and humbling in depth review of THE SOLAR GRID by Carson Grubaugh over at Living the Line on Youtube.
Been a few days on this double-page spread from the next THE SOLAR GRID, and the end is still not very close in sight.
I like where it's headed, but I can probably spend the next couple of weeks fussing over the details that can go in the background. I think instead I'll cast it aside for now move on with the remainder of the chapter and come back to it when all other pages are at the very least roughed out. I tend to leave a lot of drawing for the inking stage anyway.
Just had my first “fuck, what was I thinking?” moment.
In preparation for drafting the last two chapters in THE SOLAR GRID, I've been re-reading all THE SOLAR GRIDs I've put out to date in an effort to find all the authorly breadcrumbs we tend to leave ourselves. Breadcrumbs that often come in handy when bringing the whole yarn to a close. But as early as chapter 2, I found that I may have done the unspeakable. It's really fucking bad. There is a point to it, but that point doesn't quite transpire till several chapters later, which is way too much to ask of a reader. It's the sort of thing that upon sight makes you want to toss the book at the nearest wall. As early as chapter 2 for crying out loud!
Only now, 8 years later, am I able to envision a far more graceful way of pulling it off, which I may just have to adjust for the collected edition. Shit.
I'm rather surprised no one has called me out on it yet. It's really fucking bad. Fml.
And then there are typos littered throughout the series. So many terrible typos. So many printed copies including said typos as well as my horrible Ch. 2 mishap. This will drive me mad, at least until the amended collected edition.
AND FINISHED! Almost.
Notice how it is blank next to where it says “C (digital)”. That is the cover for the digital edition, which I approach differently to print editions for good reason.
Where I added “BM” slots at the very bottom? That's “Backmatter” which I realized I hadn't made much space for on my chart. I have it indicated as 3 pages there, but they actually ran to 9! All finished though. So yeah, this chapter runs quite long. I don't imagine the next three will need to run as long. 🤞
Saw Gaiman speak last night, part of a book tour apparently. Not sure I know of any other author who can fill a sizable auditorium with a paying audience for what is ostensibly a book promotion event. To Gaiman's credit though, he didn't read exclusively from his book, but read other stuff as well; a couple never published poems. He also includes little anecdotes and life stories between each reading. The entire event was 2 hours, Gaiman standing, never sitting, and never even moving around the stage. To be stationary for two solid hours, and do nothing but talk at a dimly lit crowd of some, I dunno, 2500 people and manage to be captivating, insightful, charming, and also damn funny the entire time is an immensely admirable feat. Again, I can't think of a single other author capable of pulling it off.
He even read a Batman poem.
A Batman poem.
First day of one full week of solo parenting has commenced and I am already dead. And it just so happens to coincide with the week I'm determined to wrap up this chapter of TSG because it really has been an awful lot of time, hasn't it?
His mother though—gods bless her—did book a sitter for 2 days out of the week, and organized daycare transport for 3, so at least that's some of the load taken care of.🤞
Currently reading: BLOOD, SWEAT, & CHROME: THE WILD AND TRUE STORY OF MAD MAX: FURY ROAD, and the title does not lie. If half of what is recounted in this book is true, then the making of this film is truly mad and most certainly unlike that of any other film in history. The book reads fast and drops glorious little nuggets throughout along with much inspiration. And I'm willing to bet that the 384 pages dedicated to chronicling the movie's wild journey barely scratches the surface. I was only 50 pages in when I realized I had to go ahead and order THE ART OF MAD MAX: FURY ROAD immediately, which I'm actually surprised took me this long to get around to.
This may just be the most agonizing part of graphic-noveling, when you're so close yet still so far. When you have an allotment of pages that are: penciled, inked, and lettered, ostensibly completely finished pages, exceeeeeept not quite. For this particular chapter I'm working on, the pages require a final sweep of touchups, halftones in some cases, and colors in others (sometimes a single tone of color, or two tones, or “full-color”, which in my case I have limited to 4 tones). The fact that each set of pages requires a different process to be brought to the finish line, means the amount of time each page requires is quite different, which makes it significantly hard to accurately assess the amount of time each page needs to finally be done-done. Which is frustrating.
New computer has arrived though and I'm finding that it is already helping speed up the process.
Prison Chart system: back-slashes for pencils, forward-slashes for inks, strike-through for letters, and then finally a blackout for pages that are done-done (like I said, some require various degrees of color and some don't).
I am a poet.
Cranky this morning. Little sleep and little accomplished to show for it. Ordered new computer in futile attempt to save me from this machine's taunting ways. Doesn't arrive till next week and will have to put off a few tasks till then.
Never a good idea to spring straight from bed to work. Will now attempt to gave day its proper start: shower, shave, breakfast, coffee, proper clothes (underwear and t-shirt at the moment), and then back to dialoguing this thing.
Poetry, sheer poetry.
Pages scanned in and now is time for the digital component of producing my comix otherwise known as troubleshooting.
Seriously, machines hate me and never work exactly like they're supposed to at least not 100% of the time and particularly at those times when I need them to work most. Now is no exception.