Broken Frontier

Apple Bits

I have never loved New York. Even with growing up in the Boston suburbs and, after college, living in the New England metropolis of Beantown itself, I as a moderate city-dweller have never been comfortable in the Big Apple.

It was always a challenge to me, even under pleasant circumstances: visiting family, seeing a show, meeting at Marvel, shopping at Midtown or Jim Hanley's...It always felt daunting. It wasn't that I thought I would be mugged or get lost or anything foolish like that; I could just never relax enough to enjoy it. I always felt on my guard -- it always felt like a hostile place. Like a tense place.

So, I have never loved New York, this tense place. But, in the present tense, I may now at least like it.

Last weekend's Museum of Cartoon and Comic Art's (MoCCA) Arts Festival is a major reason for that. (The anti-anxiety medication Effexor XR is most likely the other reason.) Held in Lafayette Avenue's marvelous Puck Building – occupying a full 3 main rooms and expanded second floor – the spatially growing venue also expanded temporarily, from a 1-day event to 2-day show. Moreover, it widened and helped awaken my appreciation for the City That Never Sleeps.

Fittingly, it was a profound lack of sleep that began my experience of the weekend...at 4:10am.  This unholy hour of awakening was not chosen so that I could put on spandex, take to the streets, and be on the prowl to fight crime, no. Rather, I had a train to catch: The 5:30 am out of Union Station to Penn in New York . And thus it was so. By 10:10 am, I was on   Lafayette Street, entering the Puck Building, and ready to rumble. (And, uh, I got something of a restful hour to myself at 11 am when I was supposedly “doing a signing” on the 7th floor in front of the tumbleweeds that rolled by the table…)

Maybe this New York venue was more comfortable than alien, because I had friends around me making it feel so much like home. Longtime friend and former co-worker Dave “Gorde” Gordon had set up shop right next to me (with fellow cartoonist Dave Bamundo) for his Being Gordy newspaper strip (which also graced the inside back cover of the MoCCA program). Meanwhile, the one-time Pennsylvanian boys of Second to Some Studios, Myatt Murphy and Scott Dalrymple, had my other wing. And the lovely (and talented!) Raina Telgemeier had her Take Out Comics due north of my set-up (along with beau Dave Roman and John Green of Harvey nominated Quicken Forbidden fame). With Trisha Sebastian coming by to pimp Smut Peddler II as well as keep watch over all my lovely Mortal Coils: Bodylines copies, it was more like a reunion than a convention!

(And, of course, there were plenty of other friends and colleagues during my delicious MoCCA stay who both bear mentioning – and might give me a solid thrashing about the head & ears if I did not mention them: Jason Yungbluth, Chris Griarusso, Phillip Clark, Chris Pitzer, Neil Kleid, Sean Wang, Ed Cunard, Coth, Paul Aczeta, Stephen Noppenberg, and Jeff Mason & Erica Merchant. Phew!)

I admit that I had genuine fun in walking up to Mark Smylie of Artesia fame and congratulating him on his Broken Frontier Paper Screen Gem Award, an honor my book was also fortunate enough to receive. It certainly gave me the opportunity, if nothing else, to be introduced to his titularly feminine book which I had seen numerous times at other shows but wasn’t man enough to purchase.  And not only were my former compatriots from Committed Comics – releasing the Neo Dawn series I scripted in ’02 this summer – seated beside the charming and stylish Mr. Smylie, but my current band of blokes from Reflux were dead-on in front of him. (I later found more Reflux contributors, such as  the cute duo of Tom Valente and Erica Gallagher, shuffled off in another room, peddling their own impressive wares; Jon Roscetti also meandered my way to discuss the fun 3-page story we have lined up for the next Monkeysuit Press anthology.) I got to chat some with all of them, then returned to my table, on the way expressing my adulation to Festival Director (and remarkably unflappable) Liz Gorinsky.

Besides gaining a newfound respect for Metropolis Gotham New York, I also learned a few things. I learned that Mortal Coils artist Jason Narvaez is a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles storyboard artist, not an animator. I learned that Vertigo editor Jonathan Vankin is an unabashed Red Sox fan. (Nomaaaahhh!) I got a peek into the amazing world of the Micronauts from Kinetic Underground studio chief David Forrest – that is, not their fictional universe, but rather how extensive and fully planned their whole publishing/toy/movie enterprise is! Stephen Shaughnessy was kind enough to inform me of the excellent work (and Mortal Coils-promotion) being undertaken over at nearby Grasshopper Comics.

And – besides Being Gordy – I may have found my new, favorite comic strip: M@B: Wide Collar Crimes by Matt Blackett. This soft-spoken Canadian fellah easily earned my “Best of MoCCA” distinction with this deftly funny collection of his simple-yet-cerebral comic strip. Not only does it pay attention to the minor absurdities of life – his apartment, apparently, being on the other side of a park from a mental hospital – but it also executes some really sensational comedic double takes over the human and mundane. This is not humor that hits you over the head, but rather sinks into your pores…and I mean that in a good way. So, let me shout it from the hilltops: Wide Collar Crimes is the best of MoCCA.

(Again, though, Being Gordy’s Dave Gordon is the one who brought M@B to my attention – and I have yet to finish the first, remarkable trade paperback of Artesia. So, just as I said, it’s something I’m able to and is worth remaking upon…)

After an evening with family out in Irvington, I came back Sunday to give copies of Bodylines to representatives from Entertainment Weekly, Publishers Weekly, and Robbie Robbins of IDW (and his wife, both of whom couldn’t have been nicer), and, before leaving early to catch my train home that afternoon, I quickly promised Ray Felix of Cup o’ Java that I would mention his exhibit at the Longwood Art Gallery @ Hostos beginning July 7th. (Please note: That was a terrible run-on sentence, but it captures my manic pace as Gordy, Trisha, and Jason helped [wo-]man the table for me on Sunday.) I stuffed Ray info in my pocket, gave him my most earnest assurances, and I dashed outside for a cab to Penn Station…

…where it turned out I could have lingered with Ray and the rest for a while more. Catching my 6:05 pm train would not be possible – not because I had planned poorly, but because I was entirely oblivious to the fact that the Gay Pride Parade was taking place that fine afternoon. (I have a goodly number of gay friends, and I take it to be an intentional prank at my expense that not one of them mentioned this event in my scheduled attempt to escape from New York that day.)

Of course, this delay may have proven almost literally providential in two ways: First, it gave me the opportunity to experience Jim Hanley’s Universe near Penn Station firsthand. But, even better, it put me on the same 6:55 train and Rabbi Tirza Covel and provided me with both an excellent traveling companion and conversation (on politics, on interfaith dating, on my Exodus comic book Lone and Level Sands) all the way back to Washington DC where my bed and mate awaited me.

So, in conclusion: I like New York. I enjoyed MoCCA. I love my girlfriend, and – especially after a 48-hour blitz like this – I adore my bed.

(For those who are interested, additional pictures taken live at MoCCA 2004 can be found at the Comic Creator Network conventions page: http://comixclub.com/conventions/mocca2004.htm).

***
Niceties & Heroes Con

Heroes Con was nice.

“Nice” is not a word I often use. Particularly as a writer, I tend to avoid it, mostly because it has so many connotations. It can be the smarmily sexualized “nice,” the sweetie-pie “nice,” or even the condescendingly critical “nice.” But the wanting-to-say-something-genuinely-positive-but-unable-to-truly-revel “nice” is most fitting here. That is, North Carolinians are nice people. Charlotte is a nice city (where all the stores – and I mean all – are closed for the weekend, but we’ll overlook that minor drawback). It has a nice airport. It rained Sunday, but the weather remained relatively nice. And the Westin Hotel next door to the Convention Center is huge…but inside is pretty much just simply nice.

And how did I like Heroes Con itself?

Well…I suppose it was…er…nice. (See the w-t-s-s-g-p-b-u-t-t-r definition.

Let’s put it this way: The convention hall was big and clean…but seldom ever full. My table was (originally) nicely situated next to the big kids at Alternative Comics (e.g. Sam Henderson, Rob Ullman) and Chris Pitzer’s AdHouse Books, but we were way over in the corner. Traffic was okay sometimes, but mostly when people were walking by us to the restrooms. And show organizer Shelton Drum couldn’t have been a sweeter guy… But that still didn’t improve my sales of Mortal Coils much.

You see? It the positives and the negatives basically balance things out to a “nice.”

So, I already gave my official, journalistic, objective overview of Heroes Con at The Pulse – but that’s not what “On the Road With…” is for. Here, I can rant a little, share a smidge of joy and nipple-twist of heartache, and plug away any compelling titles or creators that I darn well please. Here are the highlights:

I continued to have my “Press” hat firmly on top of my head as I conducted interviews with both Paul Ryan (Avengers, Fantastic Four) and Michael Avon Oeming (Hammer of the Gods, Powers) for upcoming installments of The Pulse. (But, hey, I at least reported this here on Broken Frontier first, okay? Forgive the split loyalties – Everyone should play nice together…There’s that “nice” word again…) Both men, of course, were quite warm and well-spoken, even after I brought up D.P.7 to Paul and butchered the pronunciation of Mike ’s last name. (“OH-ming,” not “EH-ming.”) In fact, Paul confessed a true fondness for this, my favorite of Marvel’s failed New Universe titles (though JR’s Star Brand was quite cool, too, before Quasar mucked it up), since these were all original characters on whom no one had worked previously. Mike also seemed to get a kick out of my mentioning the Write Now Magazine article which focused on his storytelling as much as Brian Michael Bendis’ on Powers. Calling an artist a “storyteller” is probably equivalent to calling a writer “evocative” or “visual” – almost always a high compliment, I feel.
Brandon Peterson and Randy Martin – simply helluva nice guys. (“Nice” used here in the entirely positive sense, as when paired with “so.”)

While it’s not quite high cuisine (nor precisely a “meeting of the minds”), one of the particularly pleasant dining experiences I had was at Fuel, right across the street from the Convention Center (and one of the few local eateries actually open). There, I got to sup with the gentlemen from Silent Devil Production (whose upcoming Dracula Vs. King Arthur book looks like so much fun I may have to weasel my way into working on it!), jolly Jason Yungbluth (freshly shaven bald to better resemble his achingly funny Weapon Brown character), and Ms. Jennie Breeden, online chronicler of The Devil’s Panties, her semi-autobiographical web strip now available in book form.  The Brothers Beranek were slightly zoned out from selling their Silent Forest and Silent Devil s all the live-long day, and Mr. Yungbluth humored his young nephew by letting the lad rub (and almost bite) his hairless pate. Jennie related her employment experience along with sexual harassment in the workplace…the same misdirected libido that may actually help her site get so many hits with people searching the words “devil” and “panties” together…

After a less-than-thrilling swim in the hotel pool tempered only by the presence of attractive young ladies nearby, I enjoyed an evening of drinks and dialogue with a whole host of folks moving through the bar lounge. My group started with Atlanta writer John McGuire, the upcoming IDW scribe known only as Egg, and the lovely blushing Jessi Nelson, who contributed a new sketch to my Mortal Coils Gallery. We were soon joined by Astounding Space Thrills & Bloop!’s Steve Conley, who himself arrived with Baltimore Comic-Con grand pubah Marc Nathan and the CBLDF’s Charles Brownstein. I was already a good two drinks in by the time Chris Giarusso (Spidey & the Mini-Marvels, Image’s G-Man) and Jacob Chabot (the hysterical Mighty Skullboy Army) wandered over, though I like to think I remained coherent enough in the conversation such that there was nothing embarrassing about my visiting them at their table the next day for sketches as well. I am, at least in terms of drinking, a terrible light-weight, thus my reason for favoring personal sobriety at many of these shows.
While I was dutifully and ably aided at my table by Mortal Coils and Reflux artist Chris McJunkin as well as Katherine “Kat” Smith, by weekend’s end, I was done ready to be done. For as many copies of my trade paperback as I sold (mostly, harrowingly, on Sunday), I still had a huge stack of new stuff to take back home with me – the best of which being Ms. Breeden’s The Devil’s Panties. There was something very smart, very lively, and yet still very real to this fabulously funny collection of her online strips. The humor ran the gamut from pure foolishness to insight to gender-gaps to potty-humor, all tempered by a bit of self-awareness and, paradoxically, refreshing optimism (from a sometime-Goth girl and raver, no less!). I am not sure if I can say I know Jennie herself any better now after having read the misadventures of her semi-autobiographical characters, but I definitely feel a connection to her outlook and circumstances, all of which are both familiar (even to a straight-laced, suburban-raised Jewish boy like me) and at the same time fresh and inviting. A bit of Terry Moore, some Janeane Garofalo, a dash of Bill Watterson, Berkley Breathed, and Gary Trudeau… and top it off with some Frank Cho booty-shaking monkey-business. It is too naughty and too good to be considered “nice.” Of all the wares I sampled – with Jacob’s Mighty Skullboy Army getting a definite Honorable Mention – I’m happy to name The Devil’s Panties as my Best of Heroes Con selection.

And with that, I bid everyone adieu until my MoCCA report in about 2 weeks.

Have a nice day.

***

Universityring

I work at Georgetown University. I teach at Georgetown University. I studied at Georgetown University. But I never have ever had to sell a comic book at Georgetown University …until today.

Today, of course, being both the first pre-release date for my new trade paperback Mortal Coils: Bodylines as well as the final day students could sell back their texts to the bookstore. “After the 15th,” the bookstore manager assured me, “there will be no one here. It will be rather desolate until late July. Will your book be out by that Saturday, do you think?”

Well, I had held off on making WizardWorld Philadelphia on the 21st the official release venue, just in case any problems came up with the printing. But, by the time the bookstore manager asked, everything had been humming smoothly with Brenner. And, since I was eager to start sharing Bodylines with the world, especially at my prestigious alma mater – teeming with young, literate, cash-reimbursed students – I told him that, yes, we’d have the book by then; he should reserve the date for us.

The books arrived at my office on time. They are wonderful. We arrived at the store on time. It was…fair to middling.

The space they gave us was fine: Nice table, soft chairs, big sign, etc. Kevin , the assistant manager on duty, even broke from the insanity of Book Buy-Back Day to offer us soda, coffee, and whatnot. But therein lay the problem, what I originally thought might be a boon to us proved an obstacle: Book Buy-Back Day – fresh from their final Finals, lines and lines of federally or parentally subsidized students all there dropping off their old tomes before a departure home for the summer. This student body was not a body electric (despite the sculpted, tanning-attired young women whom my significant other would bop me over the head for ever admitting I noticed). Alas, the few, bleary-eyed test-takers who could find us through the impatient throng were only mildly interested in picking up a new book for reading while homeward bound. Maybe if we had put it on a CD and sang the stories…

Then again, knowing my voice, maybe not.

So, Bodylines clientele relied on those who came to the campus specifically looking for it. A number of websites, local papers, and online event-planners had all carried the Pre-Release announcement, and my in-house editorial assistant had personally spread the word to friends and co-workers alike. One of those in attendance was none other than Wasp Comics’ main man Matt Dembicki (www.waspcomics.com) for whom I’m writing two stories to appear in his upcoming installments of the Attic Wit anthology with artist Kip Creel; not only is he a cool and interesting guy, but he told us about his weekend spent playing amateur filmmaker as part of a 48-hour movie shoot. Quite the Renaissance man!

At any rate, throughout the afternoon a number of the already-loyal companions came along, chatted, oohed-and-ahed over the new book, and bought a few to take back to the homestead with them. Even The Georgetown Current sent out a photojournalist to come record the happening for their Wednesday edition’s front page. (And, he was such a nice guy, the photo, that I had to call and track him down when he accidentally left one of his many, expensive cameras in the store by accident!)

Overall it was a nice, break-even event with little bang but no bust – not a bad way to warm up Bodylines for its first con season and the truly teeming masses of fandom unchecked. After all, unlike summer-starved Georgetown students, it’s usually the fan attendees who do stand in series of lines that ultimately make the best consumers.

…At least, that’s my theory – I’ll wait to be proven right or wrong in just a few short weeks…

***

SPACE: Too Good for "Final Frontier" Jokes

Last Saturday, I dashed from Nashville , TN – where I had been surrounded by four days of swarming, young, collegiate nurses attending the National Student Nurses Association (NSNA) conference – to the 5th annual SPACE event in Columbus , Ohio . That’s just to give you the mindset I had before leaving my home in Washington DC the week earlier: I would start the week surrounded by hoards of seemly, nubile female nurses in Opryland, and I would end the week amidst a mingled mass of mini comic-swapping, Cerebus-loving, small press and alternative comic devotees. In essence, I pretty much figured my trip on behalf of Georgetown University – the pays-for-printing-the-comics job – and my travels on behalf of Mortal Coils – the aforementioned comics in need of printing – would swing the pendulum. 180 degrees away from each other, like East from West.

My instinct proved correct – but in entirely an unexpected manner.

First, not all of the nurses were seemly (and, in fact, true to my growing experience as an Admissions Officer at G.U., nor were all of them female). Second, Opryland proved to be much more draining than entertaining as a professional working on site; especially for the non-vacationer, it’s like the genetic structure of Disneywood got merged with Dollywood and a splash of faux Amazon Rainforest…and I had to sit there among the drunkenness, drawls, and decadence to make a convincing argument for our sophisticated graduate programs. It boggled the mind. So, as I hopped my last-minute flight to Columbus , OH that afternoon to take part in at least the final 4 hours of SPACE that day (and my “Self-Publishing” panel), I was precisely that: Boggled. Why, o why did I schedule this whirlwind tour?

Now, Ohio roughly means “large water” and Columbus is, of course, the explorer known for traversing a body of water to find the New World . So I suppose there might be something mildly prophetic about my discovery of this comic book wonderland (east of Nashville , ironically enough). That is, even though this has been going on for five years, even though it was taking place in an old Holiday Inn on the outskirts of Columbus , even though people were comparing it to the buzz of previous years – like “Must See TV” in summer reruns, it was all new to me. With only the personal, highwater experience of SPX in Bethesda by which to compare it, I thought the Small Press And Comic Expo would pale in comparison.

Ye let it be known now, and ring hence from this place: I was wrong.

The venue, while atypical, was serviceable and even quaint (which I am not using as code for “small”). Traffic not only moved smoothly from room to room, but exhibitors even lined the hallways with their booths – all without somehow creating the hotel equivalent of greasefully clogged arteries. Even with the scores of Cerebus disciples waiting patiently in line for their moments with Misters Dave Sim and Gerhard – who, I discovered later, turned out to be incredibly nice gentlemen – things moved smoothly. Amazingly enough, traffic even made it to the two, out-of-the-way, satellite rooms…

…where I picked up the first of my quarry: Sgt. Death, Krazy Katz, and the truth-in-advertising collection A Bunch of Crap, all printed by Crap Hat Comics. Rather than being packed full of totally pungent excrement, I found Bunch to be perversely amusing, enough so to buy the trio from the backroom bandits. Just the opening story – entitled “Pubear and Tony” about a grizzled grizzly and a hamster-cooking fetus – locked a grin on my face that I would carry through the rest of the show…which only had t-minus 3 hours and counting.

So, I cycled the rooms like a madman, alternatively tossing copies of Mortal Coils samples issues and postcards as I shook hands and grabbed goodies off of all the tables (in exchange for green pieces of paper, naturally). I saw 2003 flash before my eyes when I caught Phillip Clark, who I met at MoCCA last year, posted directly beside Sean McKeever and his right-hand man Steng, two whom kindly shanghaied me during the San Diego Comic-Con. So, of course, I had to savor some of Sean’s non-Marvel work, namely the psychologically sci-fi Tower from Sirius, and Phillip’s second self-published installment of tantalizing and the time-twisted Quantum: Rock of Ages series.

The good Mr. Clark was then kind enough to join me in a dark room – that is, as one of the speakers on my “Self-Publishing” panel in the adjoining room. He was joined there, for an hour of my making like Larry King in relaying audience questions, alongside fellow notables Chris Pitzer of Adhouse Books, Millard Draudt (pronounced “drought,” people!) of the Dog-eared cartoons, Ian Shires from Dimestore Productions, and Steve Conley of the aptly named Astounding Space Thrills.

While the panel was hopefully instructive (and instructively hopeful) for the would-be self-publishers, nothing was more instructive to me personally than dinner and dialogue with none other than creator of the AST spin-off Bloop, Mr. Conley, and his jovial associate, 10-year veteran Jimmy Gownley, mastermind behind Amelia Rules. Over the finest Chinese buffet Columbus had to offer – and apparently just yards away from Pam Bliss and a marvelous contingent of placemat-etching artists – I played gleeful spectator to their lively discussion on the current state of self-publishing, a ship currently without a captain. (Dare I go hyper-literary and equate Mr. Sim’s Cerebus conclusion to Whitman’s skipper “on the deck…fallen cold and dead?”) Getting to pick the brains of these two gents as to how I might best market my Mortal Coils: Bodylines trade paperback was priceless – and Steve’s classy picking up of the dessert check was approximately $15, likewise appreciated.

I caught up with a portion of the placemat pack later that evening tag-teaming between two suites on the Holiday Inn’s tenth floor. Graciously shown in by The Believer’s Rob Schamberger, I found bartering system proved very much alive, I was pleased to discover, as strewing copies of my own stories landed me a copy of Matt Feazell’s simply sensational and sensationally simple Cynicalman collection and Sean Bieri’s Secret Aircraft of the Luftwaffe (since I already had all of his riotous Jape work); not only that, but both men were kind enough to turn out original sketches – both for and of Mortal Coils: one of my personal ravings captured by Matt and a reenactment of a scene from issue #3 by Sean.

In the interest of space – ha ha – allow me to highlight a few other grabs that joined my unmentionables in my suitcase for the short trip home to DC:

For those who cannot afford either of his Stylish Vittles trade paperbacks, Eisner-nominated Tyler Page offered the fun and fulfilling Mini Vittles comic, featuring the exploits of such characters as “Grocery Boy” and “Dryer Girl” – worth seeing for yourself, I assure you.

Cocked & Loaded Studios’ R.R. Shuler put a copy of his and William Bindercup’s Blues-O-Rama into my hand – an appropriately soulful digest-sized pairing of stories, surprisingly rich in their depth, on guitarist Robert Johnson and Lightnin’ Smith’s blues.

If the manic merriment of Matt Delight’s My Summer Vacation #4 hadn’t already warm me to his work, then certainly his closing dedication would have: to the “reader. You nature’s greatest miracle.”

I finally got to find out what all the fuss has been about Scott Mills’ Seamonsters & Superheroes. Don’t get me wrong – I already know and adore Scott’s work, his Xeric-winning Cells mini, in particular; it already has such a treasured place in my collection that I named one of my own characters “Mills” in his honor. But S&S confirmed that he can do light and whimsical, too. These are two words I wouldn’t necessarily use to describe Gabagool #4 by Christopher Vilgotti – another I had been wanting to sample for some time – but the sheer mythical appeal of “hedonism” left me in sore desire of issue #5.

Before my Southwest flight had made it wheels-down back in DC – okay, okay, Baltimore-Washington International Airport – I had already made it through the sweet-without-saccharine X-Ray Nancy by Jim Coon, a story about an electrical, see-through young lass who befriends the Grim Reaper Jr. thus inadvertently preventing him taking her soul, as well as Possum at Large Chad Lambert & Joe Gravel. P.a.L. was a great-yet-head-scratching story even for me, the writer of some pretty twisted fare. Still, the time-traveling, dimensional-anomaly possum had hints of Liberty Meadows in it, combined with the video game Jak & Daxter; it was one of the rare cases where its one-shot plot could easily be expanded into a full series (rather than, as is too often, the other way around – a thin concept stretched to issue-upon issue).

In the interest of honesty, I will admit that Lackluster World by Eric Adams remains, at press time, in my “to be read” pile. I mean, come on, we all know that ammunition that is con-booty can last for weeks before needing to truly reload. Still, I mention this book because it was a hard sale – seated right next to Tyler Page and sporting only one issue in print, Adams’ grayscale art still popped, much like Jhonnen Vasquez’ I Feel Sick. My last $4 at the show went to him, and it was a precious $4, let me tell you!

The biggest stand-out in terms of unexpected finds for me at SPACE has to be Panel: A Comix Anthology by Ferret Press. It looks very unassuming: photocopied, 11” x 17” cut in half and stapled lengthwise, entirely black-and-white. Only the tan band – asking what could seem an overpriced $3 – might make someone give it a second look…And they should. Inside, six unconnected pieces play and experiment with sequential art in a way that was so fulfilling to me as both a reader and creator, I was not just left hugely entertained – I was jealous! The stories are interesting, brave, and, best of all, totally accessible to all level of audience. (I just hope they have a website or second issue so that they can write, “‘Best of SPACE,’ says A. David Lewis at BrokenFrontier.com.)
And then there is that pile. That teasing, promising, mocking pile – all the great or lousy comics I have yet to read from the show which will undoubtedly leave me alternatively second-guessing or proudly touting my own work in the weeks to come. Still, it’s a tribute to the medium that all these works are being made, much less being made well. And, it’s also a tribute to Mr. Bob Corby, coordinator of the entire SPACE affair, that so many creators of these works have continually come to Columbus to further build upon the foundation he has lain.

Therefore, as I see myself using words like “tribute” and “lain,” I know it’s time to sign off on this report.

Next time: My trade paperback makes its debut at another first-time forum for me: Syracuse , New York ’s Mighty Mini-Con.

Until then, think about a career in nursing.

- A. David Lewis