Kieron Gillen's workblog

 
             

   
 
 

5/24/2004

 
"Look how low I've sunk
Don't ask me to rise."


I continue my glorious flirtation with the bottle neck of booze, lying in the compant of Rossignol and Walker. Herr Big Robot rolls out his Liberal Ironism speech and I shut up and think about thinking and... well, about everything.

Walker comments half way through the evening that my blog seems to operate in periods of silence followed by sudden activity. He's right. The sudden activity is when my brain is firing random neurone charges off into the ether that need to be grounded somewhere, somehow. It doesn't matter much what form it takes, just that it strikes the earth as soon as possible to take some of the static charge away from me.

Spent the last week of so, among my other usual activities, writing a 22-page comic. Work for Hire thing. But not even normal WFH, when you attempt to tell a specific story in the context of some pre-existing piece of fiction-technology - but as a single marketting event. The reference that comes to mind most easily is the old comics that you used to be given in a He-man figure when you were a kid. That is, a simple narrative artefact aimed to introduce the toy in question, contextualise it in its world and make you excited about your investment. A marketting tool, basically.

(Though, while accurate in economic niche, He-man's a dumb reference. This is aimed at a considerably older group than those particular toys.)

I spent most of the week working out a rambling list of gags to use. I got drunk once, which gave a certain amount. I was getting so desperate for a structure I was considering turning drug-wise to get even more stupid. I twiddled my fingers for five days, distracting myself with assorted other work while these 22 pages loomed over me. And then, come the weekend, I chanced upon a structure vague enough to do what was required, thought "Fuck it" and just got the job done.

Sent the draft to the people in question today, and they seem to like what I've done. Which is good, because if they found anything requiring a real rewrite on it, I'd have probably have climbed my way to the top of Bath Abbey and lobbed myself off it.

But still: At 22 pages, it's the largest single professional comics work I've produced, which makes it somewhat noteworthy. I'll talk a little more about its identity nearer the time. Assuming the art is good, it could actually be a fair chunk of fun.

And my general stress of doing it is responsible for the state of the blog this week. I'd apologise, but I know how regular readers enjoy watching me fall apart. This week: The Bristol Comics Con, which should have Commercial Suicide on sale at. Also: The Variance Anthology. Both will get a post of their own, methinks.

The quote that starts the blog comes from Azure Ray's "Rise". Go get.


 

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