First Review Is In

When it was a webcomic, Mom's Cancer was fortunate to be reviewed by several websites and blogs, some of which I list on my
"Reviews & Interviews" page. I appreciated them all.

But the January 30 issue of "Publishers Weekly" magazine definitely takes it up a notch with the first review of the book. PW is the Bible of the literary world, read by publishers, booksellers, writers, and readers for 134 years. People who buy, sell, and love books make decisions based on PW's judgment. It is enormously influential.

Good thing they liked my book.

The entire review has been added to my Amazon.com listing and may be available on the PW website here (sometimes I can access it, sometimes I can't). It's not long. Respecting PW's copyright, I'll just provide the first and final sentences here:

"Don't let the title put you off: collecting the Eisner Award-winning Webcomic of the same name, this story is more about how a life-altering event affects an entire family than another Lifetime disease-of-the-week story...."

"...The clean, simple comic-strip quality of Fies's art fits the story perfectly, highlighting the gravity of the situation while cutting away undue sentimentality. Mom's Cancer is a quiet, courageous account of one family's response to a universal situation."

I'm especially happy that the reviewer picked up on some of the style, tone, and story-telling choices that I made very deliberately. They "got" it. That's very gratifying.

This is a big deal.

Going Once....

Well, the eBay auction is over, and the bootleg advance copy of Mom's Cancer went for £9.50--that's £1.55 over retail, not including postage.

I don't think it was really a fair fight, though. Although there was more than one bidder, I happen to know that the winner was a highly motivated individual determined to get the book at apparently any price. No, not me! But I can promise it's going to a good home. Thanks, anonymous winner!

I'm still working hard on deadline and posting will be spotty for a while. I do expect to have some pretty exciting news coming up soon, though. Please check back.

I've Been Bootlegged!

Somebody in the U.K. got hold of an advance copy of Mom's Cancer and is auctioning it on eBay. Bidding starts at £2, which is about $3.50 U.S. Right now there are no bids, so if you've just got to read my book immediately, go for it. With my blessing...I guess.

I have mixed feelings. Advance copies are only supposed to go to publishing pros, media, reviewers and such for professional purposes. Heck, they only sent me five copies; I gave two to my sisters and, when I asked editor Charlie last week when I could get some more, he said he thought they were still on the boat. So the part of me that seethes when I see people cut in line hopes the seller gets absolutely no bids and makes no profit whatsoever.

On the other hand, my ego would be considerably heartened by a cut-throat bidding war that took the price into the stratosphere. Or at least above retail.

And yeah, I'm slightly tempted to bid on it myself. But that's just stupid.

In any case, this completely made my week--and it's been a hard week of work, so I deserve the laugh.

Blogging 'Toonists

My blogging is likely to be sporadic for a while. I'm working under several deadlines (in my day job; nothing cartoony) and things are momentarily quiet on the book front. However, I wanted to highlight a few blogs done by cartoonists that I read regularly and who I'm sure would appreciate a visit.

Patricia Storms (http://storms.typepad.com/booklust/) is a Canadian cartoonist and avid book lover who has become a good friend of mine in the way people separated by a continent become friends online. Her portfolio site (http://www.stormsillustration.com/Home.html) displays some of her work. Patricia also contributes to Drawn! (http://drawn.ca/), an "illustration blog" that gives me a hundred new ideas and a crushing sense of inferiority everytime I look at it. I think very highly of her as a cartoonist and a person.

Arnold Wagner (http://arnoldwagner.com/ToonistsBlog/) is an old-school cartoonist, and I mean that with all the appreciation and respect I can muster. Arnold co-wrote "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Cartooning," writes fine essays on cartoonists and cartooning history, and is an expert on old pen nibs and other tools of the trade. My only criticism of him is I wish he would blog more often.

Paul Giambarba (http://www.giambarba.com/blogs.html) is another cartooning veteran who, luckily for us, decided to share his work and insights on the Web. Paul embodies everything wonderful about the Golden Age of mid- to late-20th-century illustration and design. In addition, his short essays on great artists of the past are sure to introduce you to people whose work you should know. Paul ought to write a book; meanwhile, I'm grateful to benefit from his experience and wisdom for free.

Finally, for simple daily fun, I recommend The Comics Curmudgeon (http://www.joshreads.com/), which takes apart the comics page with sarcasm and occasional genuine insight. Nothing makes Josh's day like the meddling machinations of Mary Worth, the giant talking wildlife of Mark Trail, or the sixth circle of Hell into which the Lockhorns have been condemned. Fair warning that some commentary veers toward adult themes and language.

That oughta keep you busy.

Mammoir

Once in a while I'm contacted by a writer, artist, or cartoonist who's heard about Mom's Cancer and invites me to take a look at their work. I don't feel particularly well qualified as a critic, my opinion is of little more value than anyone else's, I don't know any secrets to getting published, and I'm not in a position to help anyone's career but my own (and I'm none too certain there). As long as everyone understands those ground rules and I have the time, I'm usually happy to oblige.

Mammoir is a book written and illustrated by Tucky Fussell, who was a fourth grade teacher in Boston when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Tucky is currently teaching overseas and her mother, Betty, sent me a copy. It's a remarkable piece of work.


Tucky brought her professional experience as a former advertising writer and commercial artist to Mammoir, which is structured as a series of "teaching units" covering her diagnosis, treatment, reconstructive surgery, and subsequent life. Tucky's black-and-white line art is loose and "undergroundish," sometimes displaying a simplicity and crudeness that looks a lot like spontaneity and urgency to me. I think it's appropriate for this story. Her narrative is imaginative, almost stream-of-consciousness: she interjects pop culture references and Hindu deities into discussions with her breasts (which talk back) and a wise-cracking laboratory rat who follows her around like her own Jiminy Cricket. It's an abstract, very metaphorical trip through Tucky's life and imagination.


While I might disagree with particular narrative or artistic choices, Mammoir accomplishes a lot of things I like. First, it clearly comes from the same impulse that led me to create Mom's Cancer: capture the details of this strange experience, turn something bad into something good, and help other people through similar ordeals. Second, I feel like I get to know the character of "Tucky," like her, and care about what happens to her; that's hard to accomplish in any medium. Third, to the extent that I can tell, it's accurate and honest about cancer; a lot of it was eerily familiar to me because my family lived it, too. Fourth, I simply have a ton of respect for the work and commitment that went into its 176 pages, knowing that she had to start on Panel One of Page One just like I did.

More information about Mammoir--including Tucky's bio, sample pages, and order information--is available at www.mammoir.com. The book is produced by AuthorHouse, a company I don't know but which appears to be a print-on-demand publisher like Lulu or CafePress. The copy I received is well printed and bound, and looks completely professional in every way. Why this do-it-yourself technology hasn't completely revolutionized the publishing industry is beyond me.

Found: A Story of Hope

The administrative features of my main website (www.momscancer.com) let me see the various queries that people type into search engines to find it. It's almost always some combination of "cancer," "lung," "mom," "comics," "brian fies," etc. But today I saw one that brought me up short: Somebody found Mom's Cancer by searching for "a story of hope for lung cancer."

Imagine what's going on in your life when you Google a sentence like that.

I hope I was able to help.

auf Deutsch

This is pretty cool. I got my first look at a few pages from the German edition of Mom's Cancer today. The book is being published by Knesebeck, which--like Abrams--is a subsidiary of La Martiniere Groupe. It's nice to keep it in the family.

My two years of high school German were only a little help in reviewing the material and I'm content to put my faith in the skill of Knesebeck's translators. Editor Charlie and I had some discussions about type; I think the font chosen maintains some of the casualness of my original hand-lettering while remaining very legible. It's acceptable. As long as the words and pictures are clear, I'm pretty easy-going about how my work is presented. The story is the important part...everything else is icing on the cake.

As I said a while ago, I'm looking forward to starting a foreign-language collection. So far, sehr gut.

Eyewitness to History

Writing the previous post reminded me of when my daughters were studying South African apartheid in history class a year or two ago. During my brief career as a newspaper reporter in the mid-80s, I had the opportunity to cover several protests and sit-ins aimed at convincing a nearby university to divest from South African business interests. So when my kids asked me what I knew about apartheid, I was very excited to dig through my archives and pull out the newspaper stories I'd written on the subject to share with them.

I was slightly less excited when my girls got extra credit in their class for bringing in these "primary historical documents from the era." I felt like I'd drafted the freakin' Magna Carta. "Eyewitness to History" indeed.

The Halfway Game

When my mind wanders, it occasionally comes to rest on the Halfway Game. I first read a newspaper or magazine article describing the game several years ago. It always changes my perspective on things, and the New Year is the perfect time to play it.

The game works like this: think of a landmark event in the past and then count back twice that number of years to see what the event was "halfway" to. For best effect, the second event should have some relevance to the first. For example, in 2006:

* The debut of the television series "Star Trek" 40 years ago (1966) is halfway to the release of Fritz Lang's classic silent science fiction film "Metropolis" 80 years ago (1926).

See? If you play it right, the Halfway Game has two salutary effects. First, if you're old enough to remember "Star Trek" you probably think of it as fairly modern and "Metropolis" as absolutely ancient. Now you have to make an unsettling mental adjustment: either "Star Trek" is half-ancient or "Metropolis" is half-modern. Second, I think the game instills a good gut feel for time's passage and, in this case, the pace at which science fiction and the film industry have changed as well. In any case, you feel old.

More, in reverse chronological order:

* Madonna's "Like a Virgin" (1985) is halfway to The Beatles' Ed Sullivan appearance (1964).

* The Stephen King novels "Pet Sematary" and "Christine" (1983) are halfway to Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho" (1960).

* The start of Ronald Reagan's first term (1981) is halfway to Dwight Eisenhower's second (1956).

* "Star Wars" (1977) is halfway to "Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein" (1948).

* The memorable television season of 1973-74 ("All in the Family," "MASH," "Mary Tyler Moore," "Bob Newhart") is halfway to the first commercial television broadcast (1941).

* The beginning of the Apollo program (1966-67) is halfway to Lindbergh's trans-Atlantic flight (1927).

* John Kennedy's election (1960) is halfway to the start of World War I (1914).

* The debut of Charles Schulz's "Peanuts" (1950) is halfway to the debut of "The Yellow Kid" (1894), generally considered the first newspaper comic strip.

And finally: if you haven't already, double your birthdate and see what you are halfway to. And try to have something intelligent to say when a kid asks you what it was like being an eyewitness to history. Like it or not, you were. Happy New Year.

The Spirit

One of my Christmas gifts was the book Will Eisner: A Spirited Life by Bob Andelman. I've been reading bits and pieces, not really dedicating myself to starting at Page One and proceeding in order, but am so far enjoying learning more about the man whose work I've long admired.

So I was already in an Eisner frame of mind today as I cleaned my office for the new year and came across this:


This framed cover of one of Eisner's later works was part of my table's centerpiece at last July's Eisner Awards ceremony. Each table had (if I recall correctly) three pictures of different Eisner covers that the nominees were invited to take home afterward. When I unexpectedly won the Eisner, the title of this piece seemed so appropriate I couldn't imagine leaving without it.

My only regret about the whole Eisner Award experience (and a regret I mentioned in my acceptance remarks) is that I never had a chance to meet the man before he died in January 2005. Mr. Eisner used to hand out the awards himself; no offense to Jackie Estrada who runs the awards program or Scott McCloud who handed me mine, but getting an Eisner from Eisner would have been uniquely amazing.

I admit I haven't read Minor Miracles yet, but I will.

Let Nothing You Dismay

"Deck us all with Boston Charlie,
Walla Walla, Wash., and Kalamazoo!
Nora's freezin' on the trolley,
Swaller dollar cauliflower alleygaroo!

Don't we know archaic barrel,
Lullaby Lilla Boy, Louisville Lou.
Trolley Molly don't love Harold,
Boola boola Pensacoola hullabaloo!"

--Walt Kelly (1948)

Therapy Toolbox Internet Radio Show

Here's that audio interview I mentioned in the last post:

http://www.psychjourney.com/brianFies.htm

It runs about 55 minutes. There were a few things I wish I'd remembered to say and a couple I wish I hadn't said at all, but overall I think it went fine. Interviewer Jon Filitti really did his homework and came prepared, and it felt to me like we were just having a nice conversation. I've interviewed a lot of people before (as a freelance writer and long-ago newspaper reporter) and appreciate a job well done.

Does anybody like the sound of their own recorded voice?

Thanks to Jon and Deborah Harper for the opportunity and the soapbox (and for putting together that cool webpage above). I'll be updating my momscancer.com website to include appropriate info and links soon.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Whew. I just finished a one-hour phone interview with Jon Filitti, a mental health expert, family counselor, and program coordinator for the Dubuque (Iowa) Community School District's "Family Support" program. Jon runs a website called "Out of This World" (www.ootwcomic.com) through which he uses comics to reach out and help adolescents deal with their problems. He wrote a few weeks ago asking if he could talk to me about "Mom's Cancer," how and why I created it, reactions to it, the Eisner Award, publication, etc. Jon is a comics creator himself who came at me with a list of thoughtful, well-researched questions that made the hour fly by. I enjoyed it.

The interview will be available online as soon as Jon's electronic wizards do the voodoo that they do so well. I'll let you know where and maybe have more to say about it later. He'll also send me an MP3 that I'll have to figure out what to do with. Meanwhile, here are some other sites that Jon and his colleague Deborah Harper are involved with. It looks to me like they do good, interesting work.

www.psychjourney.com
www.therapytoolbox.com

While you look at those, I'll start figuring out what "podcasting" means.

First...Herriman and McCay...

Diamond Comic Distributors is the biggest mover of graphic novels, comic books, genre magazines, trading cards, etc. in the world. If you see such products in any store anywhere, chances are good that Diamond put them there. Every month, Diamond publishes its "Previews" catalog of work due to be released in a few months; shops place their orders and Diamond ships 'em out.

After reading yesterday's blog, comic strip historian D.D. Degg was kind enough to send me this scan of an advertisement Abrams placed in this month's "Previews." As I've done for the catalog pages I posted yesterday, I linked this image to a larger version on my www.momscancer.com website. To see it bigger, just click on it.

I saw an earlier draft of this but not the published version, so many thanks, D.D. There are two Best Parts to this ad:

Best Part #1: The Tagline. "First...Herriman and McCay.... Now....Piraro and Fies." I laughed and laughed when I read that. George Herriman created the classic "Krazy Kat" comic strip, the first place scholars look when they argue whether comics can be Art. Winsor McCay created "Little Nemo" and "Dreams of the Rarebit Fiend," two all-time great comic strips from the early 20th century. I've already written about my admiration for Mr. McCay in my entry about "Gertie the Dinosaur" on September 27. In any list of history's best cartoonists, Herriman and McCay are near the top. Dan Piraro is a fine contemporary cartoonist who does the comic strip "Bizarro." I've never met Piraro and can't speak for him, but I'm certain that at least I have no business being in that sentence.

When I saw the draft I called editor Charlie and sang him the "One of These Things is Not Like the Others" song from "Sesame Street." He understood my bemusement and explained that the point wasn't to compare Piraro and me to the Greats, but to remind buyers and readers that Abrams had published books about Herriman and McCay...and now books by Piraro and Fies. Abrams wants you to know they understand the medium. They've got comics cred. In that light, the line made sense. Then he told me the even more mortifying and embarrassing ad that Abrams considered before Charlie shot it down in favor of this one, and I considered myself lucky.

Best Part #2: Seeing my drawing of Mom at the top of the page. Somehow that struck me so strongly. Mom would have gotten a huge kick out of that.

Catalog Shopping

Editor Charlie just sent me the spring catalog for Abrams Image, the new imprint I'm helping Abrams Books launch. This is the catalog that goes out to all the buyers for bookstores informing them of the wonderful new publications they simply must order today to satisfy their demanding, discerning customers in March. And leading off the slim gold-covered catalog is a two-page spread of:

I know that text is too small to read. However, you might be able to make out the yellow rectangle at the upper right of the bottom page--the one that reads "100,000-copy first printing." Holy moley, that's a lot of books. It's also a tangible expression of Abrams' commitment to Mom's Cancer. I'm a bit nonplussed by their faith, but appreciate it.

UPDATE: I've now made both images links to larger versions on my www.momscancer.com website. Just click on either image to see them bigger.

Greetings

I've enjoyed making my own Christmas cards for a long time (I don't actually remember ever buying any). Since my twin girls were born, each year's card has featured a cartoon of them and whatever pets we happened to have at the time. The girls are 17 years old now. Strung on a ribbon across the wall, 17 cards provide a sentimental timeline of our family's history. Here's this year's:

The cards also offer a nice overview of the past two decades of affordable reprographics technology. My earliest cards were done by commercial printers, sometimes in one color and sometimes in two (e.g., black and red), with color separations done by hand. Results were entirely out of my control and could be uneven; I might wait two or three weeks to get my job back from the printer only to find that he'd cut them all crooked or mixed up the colors--too late to correct and reprint.

Later, they invented color photocopying. Quality was pretty shaky at first. Color fidelity was a big gamble and I could only use thin glossy paper. A year or two later the color reproduction was better and I could photocopy onto cardstock. But I still had to be very careful to draw and color with an eye toward an unpredictable outcome.

Enter the 21st century. Desktop publishing. Photoshop. Inkjet printers. Wow. At last I'm in control of all the variables, start to finish. If the colors on the screen don't match those that come out of the printer (and they seldom do), a little trial and error gets them close enough. I can play with image size and placement, and even customize greetings if I want to. I can print exactly as many as I need, and if I run out I can print more.

Twenty years ago, I could not have imagined having this capability sitting on my desk. Remembering the time, effort, and expense I used to dedicate to achieving a tremendously inferior result, I never take it for granted.

The Pontificating Pedagogue

The art class talk went fine, I think, although I'll have to await a final review from my girls. In addition to touching on a few of the points I mentioned here December 1, I raised some ideas tailored to art students looking ahead to university studies and careers in the field. I'm pretty sure these things are true:

--"Write (or draw) what you know" is good advice, except too many people don't know anything interesting. You've got to be curious and observant about the world. The best artist in my high school fizzled out immediately after graduation because, although he was technically proficient, he had no other interests and nothing to say. The last time I saw him he was airbrushing t-shirt art at the county fair. Technique by itself is empty and insufficient.

--Work the Seams. By which I mean, create a niche by being a little different. Apply your own quirky interests and specialization to whatever you do. Don't just be an artist; be an artist with a passion for astronomy or medieval literature or bottle caps. Find a place where two or more interesting things come together and bring as much of that collision to the table as you can. Someday, something you do will connect with someone.

I hope I wasn't quite as preachy as that makes me sound. I don't think I was. Mostly I talked about the process of creating Mom's Cancer and publishing the book, and saved the sermon for the end. The class seemed interested and asked questions until we ran out of time. I enjoyed it.

One Thing Leads to Another

I've been asked to talk to my girls' high school art class next week. Some of these kids are very talented advanced placement students already preparing portfolios for future academic and professional careers. I've spoken to high school classes before, usually on the topic of "how I lucked into a career combining two things I love best: science and writing." Now that I've got a published graphic novel in hand, I suppose I can extend that list to include "art," yet I have a nagging fear that some of these kids are already way ahead of me.

I was thinking about what I might discuss when my eyes settled on this laminated card pinned to my bulletin board, my first official press pass:

What a goober.

This was where my professional writing career began, fresh out of college at a small daily newspaper in central California. I got the job of part-time night-shift sports writer based on paltry clips of an opinion column I wrote for my college paper plus, I suspect, my ability to type fast--a skill not as common 20 years ago as it is today. I must have been the only applicant, because anyone else with respiration would've been better qualified. I nevertheless got a foot in the door and covered a season of high school basketball before a full-time (daytime!) position opened on the city beat and I was on my way.

One day the editor bellowed out into the newsroom: did anyone want to fly to Fresno for the weekend to cover the opening of a new power plant? Since no one else spoke up and I was trying to build a reputation as the go-to science guy, I took the assignment. It turned out to be a good story about a hydroelectric turbine complex dug deep inside a mountain between two lakes. The place looked like the cavern lair of a James Bond villain. I had fun, wrote the feature, and forgot about it.

Helms Pumped Storage Hydro Plant. I was there.

Twelve or thirteen years later, after a decade away from journalism, I applied for a position with a firm that wrote scientific, technical, and marketing material for people in the energy industry. I passed their writing test and showed up for the interview with one relevant clip: the power plant story. I got the job. And thanks to that job, just a couple of years later I was ready to break out on my own.

I derive three lessons from that story for the young'uns. First, take on tasks nobody else wants because someday, somehow, in a way you can't imagine, one of them will pay off. Second, one thing leads to another in unpredictable ways that only make sense in hindsight. A column in a college newspaper leads to part-time sports writing leads to full-time reporting leads to freelance magazine writing leads to something that begins to look like a career. Be ready for unexpected opportunities.

Third, if you want to be a writer, write. Anything. I learned the most about writing by covering a season of high school basketball. Two or three games are easy; by the tenth or twentieth you're working mightily to keep it interesting for both your readers and yourself. Because, let's face it, every high school ball game (or city council meeting or planning commission hearing) is pretty much like any other. I figured my job was to pay attention and figure out what made this game, meeting or hearing special, and then explain that. That made me a pro. (My personal definition of "professional" is "doing a good job even when you don't feel like it." Or, as Charles Schulz said, "writer's block is for amateurs.") I suspect that applies to art as well.

By the way, in my three years as a reporter and close to ten years as a freelance writer/journalist/editor, I've never once had to show a press pass to anyone. Too bad.

Congratulations! It's a Book!

A few days ago I had one of the coolest experiences of my life: opening a package containing five advance copies of my book. Real books. Mine.

The first print run is done. Most of it is on a slow boat somewhere in the Pacific, but the printer flew a batch to Abrams to distribute to reviewers, major book buyers, heads of state and captains of industry, etc. And Abrams sent five to me. I'll get more later--although not as many as you might think. I understand that one problem authors face is everyone assumes they've got free books to pass out like candy. Not so. Luckily, I do get a pretty good discount.

I immediately mailed two of the five books to my sisters, which explains my delay in posting here--sometimes Kid Sis and Nurse Sis actually read this thing, and I wanted the books to be a surprise. They arrived yesterday. Surprise accomplished. I only wish I could have done the same for Mom.

After all the months of work, after actually living through the events depicted in Mom's Cancer, you may be able to imagine what it meant to finally hold this book in my hands. To feel the cloth binding. To smell the pages. Reading has always been a tactile experience for me anyway--there's something about the the physical sensation of reading a book that plugs directly into my brain--and when it's my own work... Wow.

I've inspected it cover to cover and am entirely thrilled with the result. Abrams is a classy publisher, most renowned for their quality art books, and I think they did a first-class job on mine. My thanks to Charlie, Isa, Brady, Mark, and all the editorial, production, and design people at Abrams who had a hand in this. I hope (and think) they can be proud of it.

Regarding Postcards: Several people wrote to ask for my promotional postcards (see November 22 below) and I've fulfilled all the requests I received. The offer still stands: anyone who wants a postcard as a memento or several to distribute is welcome to e-mail me and let me know how many, where to send them, signed or unsigned, whatever. Some of the cards I just mailed out will be going to cancer centers and clinics throughout North America, for which I'm extremely grateful. Others will just become tattered bookmarks and that's good, too. I've got plenty left.

Want a Postcard?

Let me tell you about this postcard:


Last July, shortly before Comic-Con International, editor Charlie thought it'd be a great idea to print up some promotional postcards for Mom's Cancer. Especially if I happened to win the Eisner Award, it would be nice to have something to pass out and perhaps sign. Even if I didn't win, I could distribute them at the freebie table and raise some awareness. As I recall, we were still designing the cover at that time; Abrams' art director quickly produced a semi-finished version, I approved the art and copy the same day, and they were off to the printer as a top-priority rush job.

So 500 postcards were supposed to be delivered to my hotel in San Diego the first day of the convention. Day One: no cards. Day Two: no cards. Day Three: no cards. Repeated phone calls to my hotel's Guest Packaging Department confirmed that they had nothing anywhere that looked like it might be a 500-postcard-capacity box addressed to anyone whose name was even vaguely similar to mine (with a name like "Fies" you adapt to misspellings). Editor Charlie was mystified, the printer said he shipped them; still, no cards. I won the Eisner, Comic-Con ended, my family and I went home...still no cards. A day or two later I got a call from the hotel: "Oh, yeah, they've been sitting here for a week. You should have called our Guest Packaging Department." Grrrrrr....

So since July I've been tripping over a box of 500 postcards sitting next to my desk, not quite sure what to do with them. A few of Kid Sis's correspondents asked for some to distribute among their friends and workplaces. When we get closer to the release date I think I'll mail some to selected booksellers. But the more I think about it, the more I realize the best use for these cards is probably to get them into the hands of people who want them.

So here's the deal: If you want a postcard, e-mail me your address and I'll send you one (I vow to never use your address for evil). If you want a bunch (within reason), tell me how many. I'll sign none, one, or all of them, whatever you want. Your end of the deal is if I send you a bunch you have to promise not to hoard them. Spread them around, help people find out about the book. That's what they're for. I'll be very grateful.

More Sadness for My Family

I spent the past few days in Reno, Nevada, where my Uncle Cal passed away yesterday. His wife and children, some of his grandchildren, and Nurse Sis and I were able to be there for him and he knew it, which I hope was helpful and comforting to him. Uncle Cal was Mom's big brother and only sibling, and his death so soon after hers is quite a blow.

Out of respect for his family, I don't feel free (or inclined) to share many details about his passing, which had both horrific and transcendant moments. I was constantly conscious of the fact that all decisions were up to my Aunt Norma and their children; I figured my role was to listen, support, and advise when asked, and to try to make sure that, whatever happened, they'd have no regrets. With Mom's experience so fresh in our minds, I think Nurse Sis and I were able to help our family navigate some rough waters. Only time will tell if we succeeded.

Uncle Cal at Mom's birthday party in Mom's Cancer.

Uncle Cal was a huge influence on me. He and my aunt took in Mom when she was a young single mother with two brats in tow and made a warm home for us. Until I was 10, he was the father figure in my life. His two sons, both younger than me, went on to become pretty good baseball players; I joked that he was so good at teaching them because he made all his mistakes first on me. He was a great man who will be greatly missed.

How I Cartoon

All quiet on the literary front. As far as I know, printers in Asia are churning away, chunkity-chunking out copies of Mom's Cancer while I sleep peacefully through the night half a world away. I look forward to getting one in my hands. Meanwhile...

On my main site (www.momscancer.com) I used to have a "How To" page describing how I drew Mom's Cancer. I took it down after a while--don't remember why, maybe it occurred to me that no one cared. But what is a blog if not a repository for material about which no one but its author might care?

My method is very "old-school" cartooning, with a bit of computerization thrown in at the end. Increasing numbers of cartoonists work entirely on computer and love the results. I haven't yet found a technology that gives me the same versatility and control I enjoy with a brush. Plus, for me, the act of putting pencil and ink on paper is the most satisfying part. Why would I want to give it up? In some circles, this makes me a dinosaur.

I begin with a script and a blank sheet of 9-by-12-inch 2-ply vellum bristol board. Following a rough thumbnail sketch on scratch paper, I rule in borders and lettering guides in light pencil, then rough in the captions and word balloons:

The words go first because it's critical that they have enough room and the eye follows them around the page as intended. Then I pencil the art. It's still pretty loose at this point:

I rule borders and other straight lines using a fountain pen, and letter with waterproof black India ink using Speedball nibs B-6 and B-5 (for bold).

Art is also inked with black India ink using a variety of small sable or synthetic brushes. Fine details and lines (like those on Mom's shirt or the pattern on her hat) are done with a crow-quill nib.

After erasing pencil lines with a kneaded eraser, I scan the art into Photoshop to add shading and any color needed. I also do a fair amount of editing at this stage...fixing mistakes, erasing blemishes, and sometimes rewriting entire bits of dialogue by cutting and pasting words or even individual letters. A few years ago, this would've been done with X-Acto knives, rubber cement and White Out. Computers are much better.

When I had the time to sit down and work non-stop, I could finish two or three pages per day. However, I very rarely got such time and did the best I could, when I could. The hardest part? Laying down Line One on Day One, knowing that I had more than 100 pages and many months to go. Anne Lamott tells a story about her 10-year-old brother struggling to complete a huge report on birds the night before it was due. Overwhelmed and immobilized, he asked his father how he could possibly get it done. Dad answered, "Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird." That's how I did Mom's Cancer: bird by bird.

Where I Will Be

We're starting to put together some plans for promoting Mom's Cancer early next year, including a multi-city book tour at some point. Right now I have just two firm dates:

New York Comic-Con, February 24-26, 2006, New York City. This will be my book's big coming-out party. Abrams is hosting a booth at which I'll spend some time signing, and we'll also take the opportunity to meet some booksellers and media people.

Comic-Con International, July 20-23, 2006, San Diego, Calif. These are the nice people who gave me an Eisner Award last July. I've been invited to take part in a spotlight panel and I'm sure I'll sign some books.

I've started a page on my main website where I'll post events and appearances as my schedule fills in. Right now, the list of cities involved in my multi-city tour is a mystery. As excited as I am to have my book coming out soon, this is a fairly daunting and intimidating prospect. It's all new to me (aw, poor baby). Still, I'm grateful that Abrams is so dedicated to promoting Mom's Cancer; I realize how unusual it is to receive such support. Luckily, I've got a few months to practice becoming witty and charming. I'll need it.