It's been a while, but wanted to throw in a buzzer beater before the calendar flips over.
2011 saw my first published comics work, with two stories in DWP 2.0. I'm proud to have had the first story in issue #1 of the relaunch, and got the chance to work with some great pros in the process.
Ayhan Hayrula, William Farmer, Kel Nuttal and many more - I know I'm forgetting a lot - thanks for helping me keep the dream alive and to utterly spoil me as far as working with people in the business goes.
The prose work hit some snags, and I had a few rejection letters come back my way but I'm still working on my first novel and doing shorts when I have the time.
Plans for 2012?
1. Find some creative partners.
2011 has been far more different than just a few years ago when one ad on Digital Webbing.com would ensure that your inbox was absolutely crammed full for a month.
2. Pitch, pitch, and then pitch some more.
Comics publishers are all pretty girls who keeps saying maybe. Rather than thinking that maybe means no, 2012 will be the year when one of them finally gives in and says yes.
3. Silver Spurs
The pitch is completed. The series is outlined. The first story has been published and the second one is on the way. An artist MUST be found, and soon. I think that I've got inks and letters covered, and possibly colors as well. It's those pencils that keep giving me trouble.
4. Feature version of Roswell
My other published story from DWP 2.0 is being turned into a feature length script this year.
Beyond that, the plan is to keep working until the door opens a crack bug enough for mw to stick a foot in.
Goodbye 2011. I've enjoyed our time together, but there's this other girl that I've got my eye on now. Who? Don't worry about it. You probably don't even know her.
...Okay fine. It's 2012 - does that make you happy? I thought we could be adults about this!
Dec 25, 2011
Apr 9, 2011
Flash Fiction Friday - Cycle 26
Taking this one down due to the fact that I'm planning to submit elsewhere.
Apr 2, 2011
Flash Fiction Friday Cycle 25
Flash Fiction Friday Cycle 25
Prompt: Someone is caught with their pants down
Genre: Any
Word Count: I don’t honestly know what 1500-1800 words looks like, so let’s say keep it to less than two 8×11′s.
Deadline: Thursday, April 7, 2011 A.D., on or about 4:30ish.
“AMERICAN STANDARD”
By Aaron Wilder
Flash Fiction Friday Cycle 25
Jacob Miller was a difficult man to kill. Not because of a super power like invulnerability or even because of an endless army of bodyguards. You see, the reason Miller was difficult to kill was simple - he didn’t exist. He wasn’t born on April 1st, 1971 in Danbury, Connecticut and never worked for Delta Airlines. His wife Mary never taught sophomore English at Danbury Senior High School. She’s as much a figment of imagination as her loving husband of fifteen years.
Vincent Spinelli, on the other hand, should have been relatively easy to put a bullet in. His picture smiled from every page one of every New Jersey paper from three months ago. And there was the rub. Ever since the highly public trial of the former mob capo ended, he didn’t exist either. Considering that I was the guy with the contract to take care of the Spinelli problem, that was information I had no intention of telling my employer.
Now, you may be confused at this point and asking yourself “So who the hell was Jacob Miller?”. Trust me, at this point I was asking myself the same thing. Miller wasn’t even on my radar, and Spinelli was off of it. Any leads I had dried up weeks ago. So I did what any self-respecting hitter does in this situation. I went to the cops.
I used a source in the department who, for his sake, we’ll call Reilly. The thing about Reilly was that his information came with a price, and that price usually hurt. Last time I needed Reilly, an associate of mine did a five year stretch as a result (unknown to him since I’m still breathing). What I needed this time probably meant the Family would to have to promote a new underboss or two that year.
“Where the hell is Spinelli?”
Reilly smoked his unfiltered Camel and worked out the bill in his mind.
“Nothing’s free buddy. I give you Spinelli, you give me a big fish. Keep feeding me sardines and I’m likely to starve to death this year.”
In my mind I went over the invoice and looked for accounting errors, but this time I knew I wouldn’t find any.
“Done. Now give me what I want.”
He flicked the smoldering butt to the curb and ground it out, all business.
“I can’t give you Spinelli.”
“Bullshit! We agreed to terms.”
He smiled, and I thought to myself that one day soon I’d see if that smile looks so smug on the outside of his mouth.
“When I say I can’t give you Spinelli, I mean it.”
He paused while I calculated how fast I could cap him and disappear before anybody noticed.
“Reilly…”
“I can, however, give you Jacob Miller.”
Now you’ve caught up to me on who Jacob Miller really was. Reilly explained how Spinelli decided that prison time looked a lot worse than immunity and a new life. And just like that, the pigeon decided to sing. Vincent Spinelli and his girlfriend disappeared, while Miller and his wife moved to the suburbs. Good thing Reilly knew their home address.
The worst thing about witness protection? Once you’re moved you get left alone unless someone is looking for you. Luckily, my deal with Reilly had its benefits. First and foremost he made sure that word never got out until I had a head start. Bad business was Reilly’s biggest pet peeve.
When I’m on a job, part of the process is learning the target’s habits. This job was no different. Sitting in front of the Millers’ new two story house, I watched and waited. Like clockwork, husband and wife went about their day. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. For a week the only differences were a trip to the grocery store and another to the video store.
At this point, I was ready to wire the house with C4 and blow the whole enchilada. Then I noticed it – the thing that was going to get Vincent Spinelli AKA Jacob Miller killed. Another trip to the video store, probably to return the movies from the other night, and I had my opening.
Slipping through the back door, I made my way though the house and upstairs to the room where Spinelli was going to die. Then I waited, gun in hand. Their car returned, and as the two residents moved around the house I looked at my watch. 8:30pm. Like clockwork, I heard Spinelli’s footsteps as he made his way up the flight of stairs I had traveled an hour earlier.
I listened as the zipper of his pants eased down, and at the rustle of his pants as they slid to the floor. From the other side the shower curtain where I hid I could hear the telltale sound that I had been waiting for – the scrape of the porcelain tank lid shifting backwards as he settled down to take his nightly dump. I pulled the shower curtain aside and completed the contract, thinking to myself that nothing could be more appropriate than for a rat like Vincent Spinelli to die sitting on an American Standard, pants around his ankles.
Prompt: Someone is caught with their pants down
Genre: Any
Word Count: I don’t honestly know what 1500-1800 words looks like, so let’s say keep it to less than two 8×11′s.
Deadline: Thursday, April 7, 2011 A.D., on or about 4:30ish.
“AMERICAN STANDARD”
By Aaron Wilder
Flash Fiction Friday Cycle 25
Jacob Miller was a difficult man to kill. Not because of a super power like invulnerability or even because of an endless army of bodyguards. You see, the reason Miller was difficult to kill was simple - he didn’t exist. He wasn’t born on April 1st, 1971 in Danbury, Connecticut and never worked for Delta Airlines. His wife Mary never taught sophomore English at Danbury Senior High School. She’s as much a figment of imagination as her loving husband of fifteen years.
Vincent Spinelli, on the other hand, should have been relatively easy to put a bullet in. His picture smiled from every page one of every New Jersey paper from three months ago. And there was the rub. Ever since the highly public trial of the former mob capo ended, he didn’t exist either. Considering that I was the guy with the contract to take care of the Spinelli problem, that was information I had no intention of telling my employer.
Now, you may be confused at this point and asking yourself “So who the hell was Jacob Miller?”. Trust me, at this point I was asking myself the same thing. Miller wasn’t even on my radar, and Spinelli was off of it. Any leads I had dried up weeks ago. So I did what any self-respecting hitter does in this situation. I went to the cops.
I used a source in the department who, for his sake, we’ll call Reilly. The thing about Reilly was that his information came with a price, and that price usually hurt. Last time I needed Reilly, an associate of mine did a five year stretch as a result (unknown to him since I’m still breathing). What I needed this time probably meant the Family would to have to promote a new underboss or two that year.
“Where the hell is Spinelli?”
Reilly smoked his unfiltered Camel and worked out the bill in his mind.
“Nothing’s free buddy. I give you Spinelli, you give me a big fish. Keep feeding me sardines and I’m likely to starve to death this year.”
In my mind I went over the invoice and looked for accounting errors, but this time I knew I wouldn’t find any.
“Done. Now give me what I want.”
He flicked the smoldering butt to the curb and ground it out, all business.
“I can’t give you Spinelli.”
“Bullshit! We agreed to terms.”
He smiled, and I thought to myself that one day soon I’d see if that smile looks so smug on the outside of his mouth.
“When I say I can’t give you Spinelli, I mean it.”
He paused while I calculated how fast I could cap him and disappear before anybody noticed.
“Reilly…”
“I can, however, give you Jacob Miller.”
Now you’ve caught up to me on who Jacob Miller really was. Reilly explained how Spinelli decided that prison time looked a lot worse than immunity and a new life. And just like that, the pigeon decided to sing. Vincent Spinelli and his girlfriend disappeared, while Miller and his wife moved to the suburbs. Good thing Reilly knew their home address.
The worst thing about witness protection? Once you’re moved you get left alone unless someone is looking for you. Luckily, my deal with Reilly had its benefits. First and foremost he made sure that word never got out until I had a head start. Bad business was Reilly’s biggest pet peeve.
When I’m on a job, part of the process is learning the target’s habits. This job was no different. Sitting in front of the Millers’ new two story house, I watched and waited. Like clockwork, husband and wife went about their day. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. For a week the only differences were a trip to the grocery store and another to the video store.
At this point, I was ready to wire the house with C4 and blow the whole enchilada. Then I noticed it – the thing that was going to get Vincent Spinelli AKA Jacob Miller killed. Another trip to the video store, probably to return the movies from the other night, and I had my opening.
Slipping through the back door, I made my way though the house and upstairs to the room where Spinelli was going to die. Then I waited, gun in hand. Their car returned, and as the two residents moved around the house I looked at my watch. 8:30pm. Like clockwork, I heard Spinelli’s footsteps as he made his way up the flight of stairs I had traveled an hour earlier.
I listened as the zipper of his pants eased down, and at the rustle of his pants as they slid to the floor. From the other side the shower curtain where I hid I could hear the telltale sound that I had been waiting for – the scrape of the porcelain tank lid shifting backwards as he settled down to take his nightly dump. I pulled the shower curtain aside and completed the contract, thinking to myself that nothing could be more appropriate than for a rat like Vincent Spinelli to die sitting on an American Standard, pants around his ankles.
Mar 22, 2011
Published!
Finally put a score on the board. My first (and second) professional comics work is now on sale - https://comics.comixology.com/#/digital_webbing
Sep 30, 2010
New column up at Project Fanboy: http://forums.projectfanboy.com/showthread.php?t=7041.
Haven't been active much lately due to the re-emergence of a neck problem that makes it feel like my head is sitting on top of a pillar of fire.
Haven't been active much lately due to the re-emergence of a neck problem that makes it feel like my head is sitting on top of a pillar of fire.
Sep 22, 2010
New Writing Gig
Also wanted to mention that I will be doing a weekly column for Project Fanboy called Development Hell that takes alook at the production side of comics from idea to publishing.
http://developmenthell.projectfanboy.com/
The first column takes a look at a Warren Ellis project that hung on longer than Johnny Smith's coma in the novel version of THE DEAD ZONE.
http://developmenthell.projectfanboy.com/
The first column takes a look at a Warren Ellis project that hung on longer than Johnny Smith's coma in the novel version of THE DEAD ZONE.
Crickets Chirping
Sep 1, 2010
Aug 18, 2010
Roswell - OH MY!
Creating comics work is a truly fascinating process, especially when I'm originating the idea. I liken it to making a short film.
Writer - I look at my job as equal parts screenplay writer, producer and director. In addition to coming up with the idea I assemble the rest of the talent and block out the scenes with stage direction.
Artist - The artist is equal parts director and cinematographer. By laying down the art, they are essentially capturing everything on film and deciding how our movie is going to look.
Colorist - The person laying down colors may be sort of a post-production job, but they also get the cinematography nod. If the art is lacking, good colors can punch it up. If the art is great, great colors make it even more outstanding. We won't even talk about bad colors.
Letterer - Seen by many as the job in comics that anyone can do (well, other than writing), what many don't get is that the letters are the finishing touch to a project. What they put on the page decides the performance of the actors. Bad letters can distract and take a reader out of the moment. Great letters keep a reader in the story, so much that sometimes you don't even notice that these are just words in balloons. They're dialogue to the film you're reading.
With that said, I give you page one of "Roswell". We're past the dailies now and into post-production. Since this is an 8 page story, I'm giving you the first 10 minutes of an 80 minute movie for free - like a film trailer. If you want to see the rest, you've got to go out and get that movie ticket.
Look for "Roswell, Population 37" in the pages of Digital Webbing Presents (issue #2 or #3 I believe) available exclusively - for now - in your neighborhood iTunes store.
Writer - I look at my job as equal parts screenplay writer, producer and director. In addition to coming up with the idea I assemble the rest of the talent and block out the scenes with stage direction.
Artist - The artist is equal parts director and cinematographer. By laying down the art, they are essentially capturing everything on film and deciding how our movie is going to look.
Colorist - The person laying down colors may be sort of a post-production job, but they also get the cinematography nod. If the art is lacking, good colors can punch it up. If the art is great, great colors make it even more outstanding. We won't even talk about bad colors.
Letterer - Seen by many as the job in comics that anyone can do (well, other than writing), what many don't get is that the letters are the finishing touch to a project. What they put on the page decides the performance of the actors. Bad letters can distract and take a reader out of the moment. Great letters keep a reader in the story, so much that sometimes you don't even notice that these are just words in balloons. They're dialogue to the film you're reading.
With that said, I give you page one of "Roswell". We're past the dailies now and into post-production. Since this is an 8 page story, I'm giving you the first 10 minutes of an 80 minute movie for free - like a film trailer. If you want to see the rest, you've got to go out and get that movie ticket.
Look for "Roswell, Population 37" in the pages of Digital Webbing Presents (issue #2 or #3 I believe) available exclusively - for now - in your neighborhood iTunes store.
Aug 17, 2010
World Tour Update
Here's a taste of the completed art from Karl Slominski for World Tour part 1. In this scene, our boys meet their contact in a shady bar in Sweden.
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