A night for hero worship

Today the latest Peanuts collection reached my mailbox. I was really excited for this one, as the strip had finally reached the 80's - meaning I would get to see the strip that ran on my birthday. That's it, up above. It's not an iconic one, but it's mine. (The strip that followed was the one chosen to represent the entire book on the back cover! I missed it by one day! Dang it, Sparky! My birthday was a Monday - you always lead with the best strips on Monday!)

Even though his bite was wasn't always as strong by the 80's, Schulz was still able to knock it out of the park. As I read through this collection, I keep hitting strips that make me laugh and think. In one, Peppermint Patty is happy to be at a library. When asked what book she'd like, she isn't sure, finally asking for a blue one. That hit me because it's exactly how I felt when visiting libraries as a kid. I had no idea what book I wanted, so I'd wander around and grab a book with a pretty binding. I never knew what I was looking for, so no sorting system could help me find it. Eventually I did figure out what I wanted from the library: I found the shelf with a bunch of Peanuts collections.

I'd love to read all four years' worth of material tonight, but I've got to make comics of my own now!

Living the dream!

The past is a grotesque animal

I went looking through old sketchbooks tonight. From a brief review, this appears to be the second group drawing I ever did. I didn't date my sketchbooks at this stage, but from the class notes it appears to be from early 2007. What you see was by far the best stuff in that book. It's shocking to think this was less than two years ago. I've come a looooooong way.

Looking through that book was fascinating. This sketchbook is where the characters really started to form. I had them in my head by then, but this is when their looks became standardized. Max aside, what you see here are the characters as they exist today.... just drawn in a very, very primitive way. Even though I had almost no control over the form, I was getting competent enough to start planning the strip. Here is where rough sketches of some of the parents began to appear, as well early layouts of the Sapphire Lake neighborhood and Bud's clubhouse. I was so ambitious!

The reason I dove into my old sketchbook pile is because I wanted to find a good visual of how damn raw I was at that point. I had a rambling ready to go, and I figured a visual was needed.

Tonight I went back and read all the Precocious archives. You know what... It's not that bad. Strips I was *so* embarrassed of just two days ago don't look as weak with a bit of objective detachment. Even the drawing style has turned from "inept and incompetent" to "adorably rough." For now, at least. I may change my mind tomorrow.

There are loads of mistakes, of course. Two strips accidentally omit periods in dialog, with Jacob the victim each time. Tiffany remains the character most likely to cause a mistake, as two strips result in her body parts disappearing after they pass behind something in the foreground. Lots of strips fall short layout-wise, but I've already covered that. (I'm still upset at myself for choking on strip 24.) There's also a lot of places where I know I made mistakes, but chose to keep going rather than lose my mind over details I wasn't skilled enough to handle anyway. Stray lines, poor lettering, bad proportions, ineffective gestures... whatever. Rookie mistakes. Forgiveness is divine?

But do all those mistakes add up to a reader (or worse, a syndicate) losing faith in my potential? Ever since I put it online, I was certain my early work would doom me. Tonight... maybe not?

My first art was well-crafted, even if it was clunky at points. I introduced all main characters (as well as the parents most likely to appear) and gave them face time in proportion to their importance. I touch on some themes I want to handle in the strip - which is where I am at my worst, unfortunately - and I certainly do my best to make the tone of the strip apparent.

The first strip does its job. The clubhouse is featured, giving the setting. Bud speaks while Tiffany sits in the background, indicating Bud is the more central character. Autumn's story about sneaking out shows she is both new *and* a strong characters. Bud telling her she fit in, as she threatens violence over beverage selection, tells the reader what to expect with tone and humor. Not bad. It also nicely contrasts with Jacob's introduction in the next strip.

On the character front, I really like how I handled things. The goal was to simplify the kids a bit in order to make their personalities easier to identify for a new reader. Autumn is overly aggressive. Jacob is the sweet pushover who is constantly injured or manipulated. Tiffany is aggressively spacey, to the point of narcolepsy. All of that, for the most part, works.

Then there's Bud. He's the hardest to nail down, as his role is to be the central character. Bud is best defined in how he interacts with each character. With Autumn, he asserts himself as a central character with a leadership role. Bud contrasts with Autumn in that he takes a more playful approach than she does. With Jacob, he becomes the clear leader to Jacob's naive henchman. Here we see Bud at his manipulative best, down to the callous dismissal when Jacob indicates they are "best" friends. With Tiffany, he is able to interact with her casually without her drifting away. Their interaction is limited in this storyline, but it will be made cleared when the parents arc appears. With Dionne, Bud meets his foil. As long as Dionne is around to make Bud look foolish, the reader is shown that Bud is just a good kid who can talk a big game. In the end, I am not sure how much of that really comes across, but I am hopeful his personality is defined enough. The parents arc is when a lot of Bud's idiosyncrasies appear, so I am not too worried if he's not fully defined yet. It's coming.

What does make Bud shine is not in how others define him, but how he defines the others. When Bud says something, the reader is meant to take it as fact. While Autumn gets lots of face time because the story is based around he being the new girl, Bud is clearly the central figure. Bud is the one who tells us Autumn's hater attitude fits right in. He's the one who implies that Jacob's whole family is wholesome and innocent. He redefines Autumn's narrow villain definition, and later explains to Jacob the difference between a regular villain and a SUPERvillain. He initiates the gender war and explains why Autumn is so aggressive, indicating acceptance and forgiveness for a character that might seem too mean otherwise. He repeats how there is no one to recruit, hinting at the group being so insular that they ignore non-genius kids. He lets the reader know that Max being a normal, nice kid is extremely atypical for the Poppinstock bunch. He is the one who sets the rules for the war. He is the one who explains why the kids seem to enjoy arguing semantics and setting rules rather than just hitting each other with water balloons as normal people would. If there's any doubt as to who is the strip's central character, Bud defeats Autumn in the end. The arc begins with Bud in the clubhouse, and it goes out with all other characters leaving (or being banished from) HIS clubhouse.

I do enjoy the early arcs because I get to show Autumn adjusting to a setting where she is no longer the clearly dominant figure, but rather an equal who fits in perfectly. Unfortunately for her, this means she eats a lot of humble pie. Autumn tries to recruit normal kids, only to be thwarted by them being horribly normal. The more strategy Autumn plans, the quicker it is undone by teammates who clearly have no interest in being loyal followers. In the end, the established kids defeat her and Autumn settles in as one of the group. I do worry Autumn isn't likable enough, but I tried to show over and over that this behavior is just what the kids do. Autumn just has to take her licks in the first few arcs as she learns the game.

While the two main characters are dominant from beginning to end, the rest are all given their time in the sun and then shuffled out of the way for the final confrontation. This is what I love most about the arc.

Max, being useless in a war story, only gets three strip appearances. We learn he's the biggest and strongest, but his gentle and caring nature could never work with a evil story like this! We know he's there. His personality is clearly defined. He is tossed aside, having done his part.

Suzette enters as the incendiary figure that spurs the rising action. She's a fun character because she's always contentious, but she's not as complex as the rest. Suzette is self-righteous, often in a hypocritical manner. Suzette is aggressive. Suzette is always marginalized, which just fuels her fire. She burns hot, but she burns fast. Once her flame is doused, she's gone from the story.

Dionne is vital to the arc, as she is the face of TRUE evil. Without Dionne reducing both Autumn and Bud to a weakly pointing at her as she dismisses them with a "tah," the war could look far more mean-spirited than it is. As Dionne has no soul, that means everyone else does. The kids are just having fun, and they are not prepared for when the real gamer appears. Dionne is mean to be Bud's foil, which may seem odd considering she aids him in the end. Just remember: Dionne had Bud dead to rights after joining the girls squad. After that, she turned her focus to thwarting everyone else! Dionne is a dangerous character because she takes over whenever she appears, but I felt she was vital for the first arc. Any extra bit to show my strip is not pure evil and unlikable is a good thing.

While Jacob and Tiffany are clearly main characters, the first arc made it clear their roles are secondary. Most of the time, they served as sidekicks to Bud and Autumn, but they did get their time to shine. I loved the part where Jacob went off on his own, because I could show how carried away gets in these situations. Jacob's attempt to be a badass is easily disarmed by Tiffany wanted to play her own game. Tiffany always sat back to toss in some spacey line to silly up a conversation or knock a character off-balance, but she shows her competence when facing off against Jacob. In the end, the sidekicks take each other out so the story can return to where it began: Bud verses Autumn.

If you're still reading at this point, good job! I'm almost done!

In the end, no one can say the first arc of Precocious wasn't conceptually brilliant. I knew what I wanted and I did a darn good job of putting that plan in motion. The execution might not have been great at times, but the idea was solid. I'm proud of what I've done and, I had to brag about it. Isn't a long, happy and enthusiastic post WAY better than me beating myself up over and over?

For Sparky

I've finally finished the biography of Charles Schulz tonight, and I can't seem to stop crying. It was hard enough to see him go the first time. Now, with more context and Peanuts mythology, it's even more painful to have him die on me a second time. I know biographies don't work that way, but I had to hold out hope for the happy ending this time - death would be stopped, a fountain of youth would be found and the great masters would be rewarded for their talents by achieving the immortality they deserve.

The more and more I read, the further attached I got to him. When I reached the final chapters, I had to set the book down and walk away. I knew I wasn't going to be able to take it. First thing I did was check Fark, where I read that the animator Schulz hand picked to create A Charlie Brown Christmas, who was also the voice of Snoopy, had died. There was no escaping it - the old guard has gone away.

The day Schulz died is still clear in my mind. I was at my grandparents' house, a place I have always associated with happiness and security, and was pawing at the Sunday paper with NPR on in the background. I don't even remember making it to the comics before the news hit me. Like a true legend, Schulz passed away the day before his final strip was printed. Always the one to say cartooning was his life's work and how proud he was that he did the very best he could with the talents given them and wasting none, once he couldn't continue drawing his strip he ceased to be. I didn't read the comics that day, because I just couldn't take it.

Charles Schulz, "Sparky" to all his friends, is a big reason why I've always wanted to be a cartoonist. He was the great crossover, able to be subversive and mainstream at the same time. Uncompromising and independent, he drew every strip by hand and still found time to script the dozens of animated specials. His drive, competitive nature and - most importantly - talent allowed him to transform the comics page, ruling it in an age when TV and the internet were stealing more and more from the audience. Rather that admit defeat, he simply conquered them too.

Reading that final chapter, as he fell into rapid decline due to colon cancer, was devastating. This wasn't just a man; he was also the embodiment of everything I want to be. All the hopes and dreams I have as an artist were so easily projected onto him. Watching him succeed made me think that *I* could succeed as well. Like countless others, I saw in him a kindred spirit. That's why he was so powerful; because he wasn't so much universal as he was able to personally connect to everyone in the universe. Peanuts was like a great pop song - simple enough for people to grasp, but deep enough to take the endless play such hits get.

When I lived in the DC area (ages 4-8) I had a babysitter bring me a Peanuts book. I believed she let me "borrow" it, but she never got it back. This collection was from very early on in the strip; focusing on Linus as this strange, precocious baby that could do such oddities as blow up a balloon into the shape of a cube - and with Snoopy just beginning to embark on his many fantasy voyages, imagining himself as a snake only be thwarted by a fear of tall grass. I read it over and over. At school, we were encouraged to go to the library weekly to keep finding books to read. I tried the classics, but was rarely taken by them. Problem was, I didn't know what else a kid like me should read. There were so many books in the library, but how could I find the one that would speak to me? My salvation came when I discovered the library stocked some Peanuts collections. I quickly read them all. Primed by Peanuts, I began a daily ritual of reading the comics section of a newspaper and nothing else. Calvin and Hobbes, The Far Side, For Better of For Worse, Bloom County and other classics were part of my life.

At the age of 11, I decided I was going to stop just reading comics and start playing along. I began work on a strip of my own, called Brats, which featured a cartoon avatar of my idealized self (his original name lost to time, but now known as Bud) and his nerdy sidekick, Jacob. Quickly I saw I wasn't very good at cartooning - at least, not nearly as good I was at regular drawing - so I quit.

The idea wouldn't leave me, and Brats came back the next year. This time a spacey lass named Tiffany, bearing the likeness of my current crush of the same name, appeared as the fourth of the group. Wait, fourth? Who was the third? Heck if I know. She was supposed to be the female lead, but never asserted herself.

The final incarnation featured two new additions: A girl who was meant to be a love interest for my main character and another male to balance things out. The new girl, Autumn, quickly proved to be more of a sparring partner with the lead than a girlfriend. The weak female lead was tossed out and Autumn became a headliner. The extra male was put on hold, now that I had a solid group of four. I decided to cover him later and have him move to the neighborhood of Sapphire Lake in a year. (This outsider eventually became Roddy.)

I had my strip. I just didn't have the skill. Cartooning had to be pushed aside to focus on my innate talents. Time and time again I would try to be a cartoonist, and each time my poor skill would make me quit in disgust.

It took my life completely falling apart for cartooning to emerge again. Reduced to a pile of nothing, I was beaten, broken and befuddled by what had happened. That's when I was diagnosed with ADHD and began receiving treatment for it. A week after trying Ritalin, I bought my first sketchbook in years and, back to square one, started over. I *was* a cartoonist and this time I wasn't going to quit. Years of awful drawing went by, but I stuck with it. I finished my first sketchbook ever, then my second and soon I was moving so fast I had to buy my sketchbooks three or four at a time. Cartooning pulled me from my funk and gave me a goal. If I could train myself to be a cartoonist, it meant this old dog could learn new tricks! 17 years after it was conceived - and only a month behind schedule! - Precocious, featuring the same cast, locations and themes as Brats, is about to be launched.

Admittedly, the wheels nearly fell off the wagon as I've struggled mightily over these past months - but reading this biography has given me new strength. A warts-and-all tale, I saw a very human Sparky who went through many ordeals I endured as well. He lost a parent while young. He was quiet, yet fiercely competitive. He was so sure of his own talent that anything short of perfection was devastating. He was an unlikely leader, but an effective one when given a chance. Anxiety and agoraphobia nearly destroyed him, yet he lived a richer and fuller life than most. (I tend to call myself an "extrovert who's fallen on hard times" rather than admit to being a type-B person, and I do believe that was Charles Schulz as well.)

The big difference between Schulz and myself is that he used sadness as fuel, often creating his greatest strips when he was at his lowest. (His strips lost a lot of bite after 1980 because he was just too happy!) I create from joy, while sadness shuts me down completely. When I picked up the book again, after a summer of isolation and disappointment, I felt defeated and lost. I'm still lost, but I don't feel defeated any more. If I am going to be like this idol, I have to turn my anxieties into profit. Easier said than done, but it's something expected of the truly great!

It all started with the babysitter giving me that Peanuts book by Charles Schulz.

Thank you, Sparky

"Where do you see yourself in 10 years?"

1998 self: "Married and successful, living in a metropolitan area!"

2008 self: "Gee, I seem to be standing in the same place as my 1998 self. Uh oh."

Don't get so depressed, 2008 self, you're not in the *exact* same place. Shepherd moved on and grew, so you're standing in a new and improved art building! Huzzah!

Today is my last class at Shepherd. EVER. (I know I've said it before, but this time for reals!) This was a school I chose because my high school art teacher went there, someone I barely knew was going there and I just didn't care enough to put any effort into finding a school at the time. I went in thinking I'd knock out some general education requirements on the cheap and transfer to a *real* school after two years.

I tried that. It, uh, ruined my life and set me back at least four years. Whoopsie.

Eventually I pulled myself out of the void, slid into the studio art program, got my degree and even took some graduate classes. I went from a loser student to someone the professors respect. Turns out that tiny college packed a strong contemporary art program. I'm confident in my art as well as my ability to present my art, and I have some wonderful feisty professors to thank for it!

At least I've made the best of living in a rut. I've learned all Shepherd could teach me (transcript-wise) and the program I need for my MFA isn't offered there.

So now that I've knocked out nine credits of graduate studio courses on the cheap, it's time to transfer to a *real* grad school!

Let's hope this plan goes better than the last like it.