And so another year begins and I’ve asked myself to be more productive in 2017 on the writing front. This is not to say I did not write anything in 2016. In fact, if I take a moment and reflect I should be able to see that I did indeed pen a considerable amount of content for a guy with a young family, a business, and hobbies I am not ashamed of enjoying. In the coming days, I’ll type a few hundred words about each, but the short form goes a little something like this:
- 40K campaign blog
- D&D and other RPGs
- The Grim Collection
- Aces Weekly
But when reflecting I tend to focus on what I did not do and not what I did, and on the specific topic of writing I spend too much time thinking of that promise I made to myself ten years ago as I was approaching 30 years on Earth. I had told myself I would get published by the time I hit that milestone. And I did it! I wrote, produced and self-published the graphic novel Psychosis. The next five years saw me taking on new projects– comics and short fiction– getting published, self-publishing, and, admittedly, working on projects that got shelved for one reason or another. The next five years after those first five years were less successful and way less productive. Sure, ideas and snippets of work got put into notebooks and some stories and comics half-materialized via the keyboard, but the actual finished material was sorrily lacking. A particularly hard kick-in-the-nuts came a couple days before Christmas one year when I was dismissed from a children’s chapter book I had been hired to write. That was then followed up by an even bigger blow when my mom died of cancer in January 2015.
Mom’s death destroyed me and I certainly feel I am still recovering from that shock and loss. To a much lesser degree I think I am still creatively recovering from the dismissal from the children’s book. I am not one of those writers who only writes for himself. A large part of me writes to gain recognition, praise and acceptance from other people. It is one of the reasons why I’ve more recently thrown a lot of effort into crafting short fiction for a series of interconnected games of Warhammer 40K and will spend hours planning and writing multi-sessions campaigns for D&D and other RPGs. I get immediate feedback in a D&D session, and my 40K pals have said the short fiction has added immensely to their enjoyment of the game. The only other time I’ve felt that same energy is when I did signings at the local comic store or was at Cons promoting and selling my work. I’d love to be on the other side of the Con table again, but I’ll need to produce more new material first.
Which is why I now need to end this first blog post of 2017. I am once again working with Manoel Magalhaes– a name you might recognize from Acts of Violence, Synchronicity, The Colonel and The Orphan. He asked me to work with him on a short comic for Aces Weekly. This blog post was my warm-up. Now it is time to turn to script writing.
I am pleased to post that Those Who Devour was posted last night on The Grim Collection. Artist Butch Mapa finished the artwork in the winter of 2015, but I fell into a funk brought on by grief and lost all interest in most creative endeavours. I had a long period of feeling overwhelmed by most things and this made it hard for me to feel passion about anything. I can’t report that I’ve overcome these feelings, but I can report that not all days are bleak and in recent months have taken to writing again even if that writing pertains only to D&D and a 40K campaign in which I am involved.
With the publication of The Dig on The Grim Collection, I find myself thinking about storytellers. The Dig was inspired by a storyteller in my own family, my great-uncle Leonard. I can’t say I spent a lot of time with Leonard, but my most vivid memories of him involve the stories he told. I remember him sitting in an aged yet comfortable looking chair in a living room filled with the kind of pictures and knick-knacks one accumulates during a life filled with family. Great-aunt Minnie busy elsewhere in the house. Leonard’s thick head of hair. My dad sitting off to the side and me uncomfortable around unfamiliar people. I don’t remember ever commenting on the tales woven or asking questions, but I certainly remember retelling those stories on the walk to school or on the playground, doing my best to remember the details for my equally young pals.
My favourite story and the one I remember most clearly involved a dream where Leonard saw the location of some buried treasure and upon waking knew where to go. And go he did. Shovel in hand. He dug and struck something deep in the sand but a ghostly hand emerged. He dropped shovel and ran. Some time later he returned but could no longer remember the spot.
That story stuck with me for more than 30 years and eventually became The Dig.
My dad added a lot of background lore to Leonard’s ability to vividly dream. Leonard’s father was the seventh son of the seventh son. That man could put a light-bulb in his mouth and his finger in an outlet and the bulb would light up. He disappeared for years only to return near the end of his life. I never questioned the truth of these tales. One doesn’t do that to stories such as this. I think I knew that even as a young lad. It’s a harder thing to do as an adult– not questioning the tales of storytellers. As an adult, we look for answers to help us understand the why of things, but with a story it is not the why that is important. The best storytellers know this.
There was another story Leonard told where, as a young man, he saw the devil perched on a neighbour’s house. The devil dropped into the shadows and disappeared when it noticed Leonard looking. I’ve got a comic script knocking around in my head based on that one.
Another storyteller from my youth was a neighbourhood friend of my father’s. Joe was his name and, to me, he seemed old even when I was in elementary school. I interviewed him once as part of a school project. We had to talk to an adult about what their childhood was like. I used this black tape recorder my sister had. It was the same tape recorder she and I used to record silly little programs we made up before I was even in school. I also used the tape recorder to record letters to a friend of mine that moved to another city. He did the same in return. I don’t remember the details of Joe’s answers, but I remember he came to the house and we did the recording in the basement. I also remember the quality of the recording was terrible. You could barely hear him on the playback even with the volume at its highest.
Later in life after we left and returned to Sydney, my dad took me to visit Joe. He was still in the same neighbourhood. Same darkly painted house with its immaculately cared for lawn and shrubbery. We sat out in the backyard. Dad and he talked and I listened. Dad was working for Brinks by this time and I remember Joe leaning intently forward and asking with quiet interest: “What does a million dollars look like?”
My dad and his brothers would tell stories of their youth, not naughty tales but definitely wild tales about kids fending for themselves and finding things to do as they wandered the city, of their own father and his brother– the aforementioned Leonard– running booze in the countryside and dealing cards at back-room poker games because none of the players trusted each other.
And, Murray, now also gone. The trucker. One summer when we were back on the East Coast visiting I found myself alone in the living room with Murray, and we got to talking about trucking, about what is trucked across country and across borders; about how cargo is tracked; about how truckers are sometimes robbed or even hijacked. It’s all locked away in my brain.
Stories to create other stories.
A new comic written by me has been published on The Grim Collection. The Dig is drawn and lettered by Wilson Dela Fuente.
The plan was to have a new short fiction on The Grim Collection on June 1 but I failed to do so. I’ve been unhappy with what I’ve been writing and, to be honest, much of my writing time in May was focused on my return to writing a daily journal and preparing for an epic D&D session I was running at the end of the month. I don’t regret my decision. Both the campaign preparation and the journal writing is a type of writing even if one has a small audience and the other is private. I enjoyed doing both and these were in keeping with the key goals of my return to writing– regular output and writing as an enjoyable act.
Ryan Howe is currently working on another comic for The Grim Collection. He started at the very end of May. I will definitely need to have a short fiction ready for July 1 because there won’t be a finished comic for me to fall back on.