"No Experience in Cartooning..."?

The Associated Press article about Mom's Cancer has been released. I found it online here (thanks to D.D. Degg!) and I suspect it'll show up in other places before long. That's what the AP does.

I've been a writer and journalist for a long time, and interviewed a lot of people. I think I've done a good job of accurately quoting subjects in context, but now that the roles are reversed I have to wonder. Some of my quotes don't sound like me, and if I said those words they didn't come out quite like I intended. It's a truism of journalism that most people believe reporters get it right except when writing about anything involving them, and I'll vouch for that. Maybe it's like hearing your own voice on a tape recorder.

I am nevertheless pretty satisfied with the story. It also features cartoonist Miriam Engelberg, and I was grateful to learn things about her and her forthcoming book, Cancer Made a Shallower Person, that I didn't know. The only passage that raised my hackles was one that began, "Fies had no experience in cartooning." I don't see it that way.

As far as I'm concerned, I have more than 30 years of experience in cartooning. I just seldom managed to get paid for it.

In my teens and twenties I worked very hard at it, and was serious about trying to start a career as a cartoonist or illustrator. I studied the work of masters. I practiced with all the tools I could find: brushes, pens, nibs, inks, washes, watercolors, gouache, charcoals, papers, duotone. When I was a reporter at a small newspaper I published scores of cartoons, spot drawings, and illustrations. I learned how to shoot my own photostats and cut my own color separations by hand.

I also submitted all types of work to all kinds of publications. Mostly, I failed. (Although as I've mentioned before, I did once get a nice gig illustrating a light bulb catalog. They come in an amazing variety of shapes and sizes.) There's little shame in that; most people trying to pursue creative vocations fail. Unlike some, I've been good at other things at that people would pay me to do. But I never stopped working on my drawing skills, learning and applying as much as I could while whittling away the unnecessary. I think that's what both good writing and cartooning are about: trying to master the tools needed to capture the essence of something and evoke precisely the effect you're aiming for in your reader.

Editor Charlie has been on the receiving end of this screed before, and I think it took him aback--I'm usually a pretty easy-going guy. I'm not sure why I feel quite as passionately about it as I do. The Mom's Cancer mythology is essentially right: I did appear out of nowhere to win an Eisner Award and land a book deal my first time batting in the big leagues. It's a good story. I understand that. So what's my problem?

I hate stories that makes cartooning sound easy. It's too disrespectful to an artform I love and the professionals who work hard to make a living at it. Everybody already thinks it's easy, and a few famous examples of everyday folks who sent their doodles to a publisher or newspaper syndicate and hit the million-dollar jackpot only reinforce that idea. I would hate to contribute to that misperception.

I've spent a long time learning how to cartoon, and it's only in the past couple of years that I think I might have begun to get a handle on it. It is very hard to do right. It is very hard to make something look so easy that everybody thinks they can do it. If it were easy I would have been published decades ago instead of accumulating shoeboxes of rejection slips.

I didn't just dash off Mom's Cancer. It distills years of study and hard work, and more thousands of hours of practice with pencils and brushes and pens than I could calculate. Just as important were the 20-plus years I worked as a professional writer. If that experience gave me the skills to make it look easy, then I succeeded.

Going APE

I just accepted an invitation to take part in a panel at the Alternative Press Expo (APE) to be held in San Francisco April 8 and 9. My panel, "Hey, Kids! Graphic Novels!" will be sometime on Saturday, April 8; I don't know the time yet and I'm not sure I'm at liberty to say who else might be on the panel. A couple of people I'd like to meet, for certain.

I haven't been to an APE, but by reputation it's a nice, smallish, affordable, low-key event focusing on alternative and self-published works. It's organized by the same people who do the Comic-Con International in San Diego, and they seem to know what they're doing. I'm honored to be asked.

Click the logo for more information.
Don't stare at the spiral...it's hypnotic.

UPDATE: The graphic novel panel will begin at 2:30 and the organizers are kindly making arrangements for me to sign books for an hour afterward.

Last-Minute Media Alert

Just got off the phone with Jacki Schechner, the "Internet Beat" reporter for CNN. With the sad death of Dana Reeve, the network is dedicating much of today's "The Situation Room" program to the subject of cancer. We talked for about 10 minutes about Mom's Cancer, why and how I did it, how it began as a Webcomic, reactions to it, etc. I also gave Ms. Schechner some digital images from the book and pointed her to relevant online resources that I think have value, including RedToeNail.org mentioned below.

CNN, "The Situation Room," 5 p.m. Eastern time (2 p.m. Pacific)...which, as I write this, is about 38 minutes from now.

I'll report back after I see how it goes.

UPDATE: What I learned today about TV journalism is that when the reporter says your story will be on "in the five o'clock hour," she means 5:57. Still, I have no reason to complain:


I thought Ms. Schechner's very brief report on online cancer resources was fine for what it was, given her obvious time constraints. As an occasional journalist myself, I'm impressed by how quickly she developed the story, from initial contact to on-air report in a couple of hours.

MORE UPDATE: I just received a nice e-mail from Ms. Schechner explaining that the show ran short on time and apologizing for her hurried report. Maybe she'll keep my work in mind in the future, and I certainly appreciate being included. When I got up this morning, I had no idea I'd be on CNN before dinner. That's pretty cool.

RedToeNail.org

In early 2004, Dr. Phil Berman discovered he had lung cancer with metastases throughout his body. A radiologist himself, Dr. Berman has survived through bad days and good with, as far as I can tell, his personality, humor, reason, and compassion intact. Also his sense of style: his site, "RedToeNail.org," got its name from his resolution to paint one toenail red for every year of survival. So far, he's up to two.

In its creator's own words, "RedToeNail.org is an online community designed to help people whose lives have been touched by cancer. Whether you are the one with cancer or it’s a friend or family member who you are caring for, RedToeNail.org offers a supportive online environment where you can share your experiences via an online journal (blog), learn from others and find support for the challenges you are facing. RedToeNail.org members include cancer survivors, family members, doctors, nurses, researchers and others who are actively involved in the fight against cancer. RedToeNail.org is also an online resource providing members with the latest cancer news & information as well as additional resources for people seeking help and support."

Dr. Berman and I have corresponded off and on for a while and I think he's created a very important resource for a lot of people--not least because of the understanding and credibility he brings to it as a cancer survivor himself. His kind review of Mom's Cancer on his blog, http://berman.redtoenail.org/, gives me a handy excuse to recommend his site and work to anyone touched by this disease and looking for others who will understand. If you think that description might apply to you, it probably does. Check it out.

More NYC

Editor Charlie just mailed me a CD of photos from our big New York book launch. Charlie and the Abrams photographer both caught a lot I missed. With his permission, I thought I'd post some of them:

The Society of Illustrators, perfect site for the Abrams party kicking off their publishing season.

The first floor of the SOI set up before the party began.

The same room in mid-celebration. We later adjourned to the third floor, which had about the same dimensions, a bar, and even more amazing art on the walls.

Signing at St. Mark's Comics.

The Comic-Con panel on "The Future of the Graphic Novel." Left to right are R. Kikuo Johnson, me, Grady Klein, Jessica Abel, and moderator Douglas Wolk.

My Latest Project

Here's how I spent a couple of hours this morning:

For the past few years, my girls' Girl Scout troop has organized an annual Father-Daughter Dance. They rent a hall, hire a DJ and photographer, organize door prizes, arrange for pot-luck snacks, and charge enough to cover their costs. It's a great event--a nice thing for Dads to do with their girls, and many of them dress up like they're going to a prom. This year's theme is "Under the Sea."

On their way out the door, the girls get a patch commemorating the event to sew onto their Girl Scout sashes or vests, and that's my design for this year's patch above. I've designed a few other patches for various events and enjoy it. It's an interesting challenge in limited palette (four colors this year, not including the pale blue background of the patch material) and canvas (this is going to be small and embroidered by machine, so no fine lines or details).

Look for my new book, "Collected Girl Scout Patches," coming from Abrams this fall.

The Book Launches

New York City from my hotel window (with Carnegie Hall across the street)

Well, that was extraordinary.

This is a long entry with many pictures; my apologies if they try your patience or connection speed. When possible (which means “when easy for me”), I provide links to more information about people or places you may not know. I’m sorry so many of these pictures are of me and other people standing stiffly and staring into the lens, but that’s how it goes.
ThursdayMy wife and I flew to New York in time to attend a party hosted by my publisher, Harry N. Abrams, at the Society of Illustrators. The society was formed in 1901 to promote and exhibit the best of commercial illustration, where members such as Norman Rockwell, N.C. Wyeth, Howard Pyle, Maxfield Parrish, James Montgomery Flagg, and J.C. Leydendecker hosted guests like Mark Twain. The walls of this beautiful building are covered with original works by great artists both old and new.

Paintings by Leydendecker and Rockwell. On the wall. Next to me.

It’s hard to gauge crowd size in cramped quarters, but I’d guess attendance easily topped 100, all there to help Abrams celebrate the publication of works by cartoonist Dan Piraro (“Bizarro”), Brom (“The Plucker”), Donny Miller (“Beautiful People with Beautiful Feelings”) and, well, me.

Donny Miller, me, Dan Piraro, Abrams CEO Michael Jacobs, and Brom

The Abrams people invited their industry friends: writers, artists, editors, agents. I met comics writer and historian Brian Walker (“Hi and Lois” and “Beetle Bailey”), Al Jaffee (“MAD magazine”), cartoonist Isabella Bannerman (“Six Chix”), and artist Joe DeVito.

Joe DeVito

In addition, I met Abrams CEO Michael Jacobs and a host of Abrams people who for the past year have been little more than e-mail addresses that helped turn my story into a book. I’m glad we got to know each other at last. Also, I was completely charmed by the young woman who edited the German edition of Mom’s Cancer, with whom I had a nice conversation about conveying my American perspective to an overseas audience.

(One reason I’m withholding the names of some of Abrams’ behind-the-scenes people is that I later got a glimpse of all the would-be writers, artists, designers, promoters, and others who go to events just to hit them up for work. I’d hate to make their jobs harder by outing them in my blog.)

Four introductions really stood out for me:

Mike Lynch is a freelance cartoonist I’ve gotten to know through an Internet bulletin board we both frequent. He mentioned last week that he’d be at the event and said we’d have to be sure to find each other. Contrary to my expectations, Mike turned out to be sociable and well-groomed. Although we’d never really met, finding him there was like running into a friend 3,000 miles from home. I appreciated that.

Mike Lynch

Mort Gerberg has created great cartoons for The New Yorker and many others for many years, and is a friend of my editor, Charlie Kochman. He’s drawn syndicated comic strips, done more than three dozen books, and taught cartooning. I had a few opportunities to talk with Mort over the long weekend and came away hugely impressed with his knowledge and energy. Mort has a mind like a laser, never losing focus while cutting to the heart of a conversation. He understands the business of the business. Best of all, I felt like Mort welcomed me into his world like a peer.

I can’t describe what it meant to have Mort Gerberg thumb through my book and say, “this is great stuff.”

Another friend of Charlie’s I met at the party was Irwin Hasen. Irwin began cartooning in the 1930s and worked on “The Shadow,” “Green Lantern” and “The Flash” (the original versions), and “Justice League of America.” He co-created the “Dondi” comic strip in 1955 and is a giant in the industry. And, like Mort Gerberg, he couldn’t have been warmer or kinder once Charlie made our introductions.

Charlie Kochman, me, Irwin Hasen

Finally, I wanted to mention Brom. Go take a quick look at Brom's art here or here or here and then come back. I’ll wait.

Now check out this photo:


Those red eyes aren't caused by my camera flash. They really do glow diabolically like that.

I joke. I got to talk to Brom while sharing rides from and to the airport with him, his wife, and two kids. Belying the evidence of his artwork, he is a great guy, very low-key and friendly, and I really appreciated the brief conversations we had about many aspects of his art and the business.

Best of all, my two sisters were able to attend. They’d been looking for an excuse to take a vacation and both love New York, so my invitation to an exclusive literary event was enough to lure them east. I think they had a wonderful time and got a bit of well-deserved attention. A few people who’d read the book seemed to really enjoy meeting the “characters.” If they give me their okay, I may post some photos of them later.

Friday
Day One of the New York Comic-Con, the first convention of its type in New York in several years. Comic-Con occupied half of the Javits Center’s main exhibition hall—I think a travel convention took the other half—and it was pleasantly crowded on Friday. That fact should have set off some alarm bells for anyone looking ahead to Saturday...as we will see. I took a two-hour shift signing books at the Abrams table and had plenty of time to wander around being a fan as well.

Meanwhile, editor Charlie dedicated himself throughout the weekend to scouring the floor for friends of his I needed to meet. People like Kyle Baker, Gary Sassaman, long-time DC Comics editor Paul Kupperberg, comics creator Walt Simonson, agent Judith Hansen, Publishers Weekly editor Calvin Reid, and too many others to list.

Calvin Reid and Mort Gerberg

Walt Simonson

Friday night, Abrams had arranged a signing at St. Mark’s Comics in Greenwich Village, a great shop with staff I really enjoyed spending time with (Matt and Matt). The signing was set to run from 8 to 10 p.m., which to a guy from the ‘burbs sounded a little absurd. Who goes to a comic book store at 10 p.m.? But of course the City That Never Sleeps is full of Readers Who Never Sleep and, in the street-fair milieu of the clubs and shops lining St. Mark’s St., we actually drew a bigger crowd the later it got. And by “crowd” I mean one person wandering by the table every 10 minutes or so, but that was fine and some of them were extraordinary people who’d gone out of their way to be there to meet me, so that meant a lot. Since no one minded or had anything better to do, we stayed until 11 p.m. and had a fine time.

Setting up at St. Mark's Comics

Digression: St. Mark's had scheduled me to sign on Friday night and Brom on Saturday night. One of the highlights of the trip for me was the arrival of a fan: mid-twenties, sandy-red hair, an eager and excited glow suffusing his face. He rushed the table with his eyes locked on me as if drawn by a magnet.

“Are you Brom?”

I said Yes, signed Brom’s book, and sent him on his way.

No, I didn’t do that. In fact I broke the guy’s heart by advising him to come back on Saturday. I actually asked Brom later if his fan had shown up, but he didn’t remember one matching my description. I hope he made it.

Saturday
Comic-Con Bedlam. I hear the organizers planned conservatively, not sure how many people would turn out and not wanting to oversell the event in its first year. They had some 10,000 pre-registrations, which I gather was a healthy number, and on Friday had another 5,000 or 6,000 (rumor has it) show up at the door. Although the ticket lines were long, I think most of those people got in.

Not so on Saturday, when countless thousands MORE showed up. Lines snaked throughout the immense convention hall. Facility staff and security were completely overwhelmed and rapidly lost patience. Finally, around 11 a.m., the fire marshal closed the door. If you left the main floor--even to get a snack, use the bathroom, or attend a speakers’ panel down the hall--you couldn’t get back in. People who wanted to buy tickets that day were turned away. People who’d ALREADY PAID FOR TICKETS IN ADVANCE were turned away. Press and professionals were turned away. Rumor had it that movie director Kevin Smith, who was scheduled to speak as the convention’s star attraction, couldn’t even get in the door. The floor itself was packed tighter than a summer Saturday at Disneyland. It was not a good scene.

With Charlie and Abrams publicist Melody

The only people able to enter and leave the hall with impunity were those with Exhibitors badges. The Abrams people, including me, had those magic golden tickets. In mid-afternoon, editor Charlie got word from a security guard that Mort Gerberg was trapped outside and asking for him. Charlie was pretty distraught: he’d already lost one argument with a guard over getting someone through the door, yet the idea of Mort Gerberg being locked out of a comics convention was absurd. I handed Charlie my badge and he took off. Fifteen minutes later, Charlie and Mort appeared at the table; Mort unclipped my badge from his lapel and handed it back with a grin so big you’d think I pulled a thorn from his paw.

Saturday at 1 p.m. I took part in a panel on “The Future of the Graphic Novel” with Jessica Abel (“La Perdida,” “Artbabe,” and much more), Grady Klein (“The Lost Colony”), R. Kikuo Johnson (“Night Fisher”) and moderator Douglas Wolk from Publishers Weekly. Douglas had corresponded with us by e-mail and had some questions lined up, and we began by introducing our work. It’s hard for me to judge how many people attended--several dozen at least. It was a big room.

This was the first time I’d taken part in anything like it and, though I don’t particularly fear public speaking, I was a little anxious because I didn’t know what to expect. I was heartened to arrive and find that some of my fellow panelists were as unsure as I was. A couple of us had some notes prepared, we took our best shots at Douglas’s questions, Grady showed a short animation, we did some Q&A, and 50 minutes flew by. I think it went pretty well. I learned that sometimes ideas that seem clear in my head don’t always come out as clearly when I speak them. I don’t want to develop a repertoire of rote responses, but at the same time I realize the same types of questions will always come up and I’d like to have clear, effective replies on the tip of my brain. I’ll work on that.

Before the panel: Jessica Abel helps Grady Klein get a laptop communicating with a projector while Douglas Wolk meets R. Kikuo Johnson.

Talking with an audience member after the panel. I just included this photo because I think it captures the coolest hand gesture I've ever made.

My only regret is that I didn’t really get a chance to talk to the other panelists before or after. One happy surprise from the experience was that I reconnected with Raina Telgemeier, with whom I shared a table at the Eisner Awards when she was nominated as a Talent Deserving Wider Recognition. I spotted Raina in the audience and she’s landed a great job doing graphic adaptations of “The Baby-Sitters Club” series. I really like the clean look and thoughtfulness of her work and, though I can’t claim to know her, suspect she may be the nicest person who ever drew anything. I’m a fan.

After the panel I did another book signing at the booth, after which Charlie treated my wife and me to dinner at his favorite restaurant. We had enough free time on Friday, Saturday and Sunday mornings to play New York tourists, which we greatly enjoyed despite some pretty severe combinations of cold and wind. The less said about our flight home Sunday the better.

My wife and I touring Ellis Island

All in all, it was a pretty dazzling and heady few days, due largely to the efforts of Charlie and his Abrams colleagues. It meant a lot that my sisters and wife were able to share much of it with me. Thoughts of Mom—and how happy she would have been for all of us—were always close at hand.

I realize this write-up is overbrimming with sunshine, rainbows, and lollipops. All I can say is that I’m not naturally a hap-hap-happy Pollyanna and that if something had been disappointing or someone a jerk I probably would have written about that, too. But it was truly quite a launch.

I know at least one person who will appreciate this one.

Everybody Needs A Hero

Still pulling everything together to catch a pre-dawn flight east tomorrow, but before I go I wanted to tell you about a little Hero.

Hero is Mom's pomeranian pup, a prancy little fluffball with tippy-tappy toes who helped her through some of her hardest hours. I have rarely seen a dog so devoted, and Mom lit up whenever he was around. He makes brief appearances in Mom's Cancer, including a bit that tells how Mom got Hero as a gift on her birthday.

Hero in life and in Mom's Cancer

Mom always wanted to make a plush-toy version of Hero, especially so that people facing a situation like hers--or otherwise in need of comfort--could have a Hero of their own to hug. She wanted to spread the Hero magic that she felt had strengthened her. When I negotiated my contract with Abrams, I made sure to keep the merchandising rights to the characters so Mom could do whatever she wanted with him.

Mom started work on the project but didn't stay healthy enough to see it through. After Mom passed away, my sisters took up the task. They now have a prototype in hand and hope to have Hero dolls for sale by the summer. See www.everybodyneedsahero.com or click on the image below. I think it's an uncanny likeness.

Full disclosure: although I provided some design advice, I have no financial stake in Hero dolls. It's all my sisters' deal. I can also pretty much guarantee that this isn't the start of a Mom's Cancer merchandising blitz. The Hero doll was Mom's inspiration that my sisters are seeing through to completion for all the right reasons. I hope it does everything Mom wanted it to.

If I Can Make It There...

I'm working hard the first half of this week to get day-job obligations squared away before my wife and I leave for New York City Thursday morning. I'm approaching the debut of Mom's Cancer with an odd mix of excitement, apprehension, deep satisfaction, and "wake up in the middle of the night crying out 'What have I done?'" dread.

Enjoy the ride.

If anyone is in the neighborhood this weekend, here's the current schedule of where I'll be and what I'll be doing:

Friday, 6 p.m.: Signing at the Abrams Books booth at N.Y. Comic-Con, Javits Center.
Friday, 8 p.m.: Signing at St. Mark's Comics, 11 St. Mark's Place, Manhattan.
Saturday, 1 p.m.: Taking part in a panel on "The Future of the Graphic Novel" at Comic-Con. Other panelists are Grady Klein, Jessica Abel, and R. Kikuo Johnson. I'll be the one not saying anything intelligent or interesting.
Saturday, 4 p.m.: Signing at the Abrams Books booth.

In addition, I expect to spend much time enjoying Comic-Con as a fan. Maybe I can fill the holes in my "Avengers" comic book collection. On the off chance anyone reading this blog actually shows up at one of the above events or spies me wandering dazed and aimless, it would be great if you'd say "Hello" and introduce yourself. That would make my day.

No Regrets

Memories of Mom arrive at unexpected times in unexpected ways. Seeing her handwriting always hits me strong. Penmanship is such an individualized expression of personality. I came across an old note from Mom today--nothing important, just a scribble in a margin--and one thought led to another....

The memories don't make me particularly melancholy, just sad. Wistful. As time passes I'm increasingly amazed at Mom's courage in her final months. Because her ordeal worsened gradually, one tiny disaster after another, I didn't really realize at the time what a cumulative burden she was carrying and how gracefully she did so. I'm only seeing it in retrospect. As I wrote in Mom's Cancer, it's amazing what you can get used to.

At any rate, searching my photo archives for something else I found this:
This is me with Mom around the time she was doing her best: after she regrew her hair and moved to Hollywood; before the walkers, wheelchairs, physical therapy, hospitals, and gradual decline. She was happier there than I'd seen her in years. Good sandwiches. No regrets.

Signing in Berkeley and NYC

My wife and I are psyching ourselves up for our big trip to the New York Comic-Con late next week. One of the highlights is sure to be a gala dinner party Abrams is hosting to kick off its spring season at which I'll be only one of several guests of honor. I'll post pictures. While I'm in town, I'm also scheduled to sign books Friday night, February 24 (specific time TBD) at St. Mark's Comics in Manhattan, a legendary establishment. www.stmarkscomics.com.

Closer to home, I'm now scheduled to give a little talk and sign books on Saturday, March 25 at 7 p.m. at:

Cody's Fourth Street
1730 Fourth St.
Berkeley, Calif.
www.codysbooks.com

A note for anyone familiar with the area, this isn't the main Cody's Books on Telegraph, but a cozier Cody's closer to the freeway on Fourth north of University Ave.

A lot is coming together quickly. Exciting and stressful times.

My Master

I didn't include my wife and children in Mom's Cancer (except for sneaking them into one panel!) and I don't write much about them here. That's a deliberate Wall of Privacy I maintain, partly because I thought it'd be a bad idea to exploit and alienate my entire family. Especially the part I live with.

It's my rule...so I can break it if I want.

I could hardly be happier or more proud that my wife just earned her Master of Public Administration degree from a nearby state university. This isn't one of those Mickey Mouse masters that gives you 40 units for "life experience" and a hearty handshake for showing up to class with your checkbook open. It's the real deal. She attended night classes for five years while working 50-plus-hour weeks the whole time. She dedicated hours on weekends to study groups that she organized herself. Her studies culminated in a grinding two-day comprehensive exam covering every class she'd had (how could she remember material she learned five years ago? I don't remember what I did last month!) that she passed with aplomb. I've seen a lot of people work hard for academic accomplishments, including PhDs, but don't think I've ever seen anyone work with more determination than she did.

So I'm impressed. Congratulations, Sweetie! You earned it like I've never seen anybody earn anything else.

Review: Innocent Bystander

Gary Sassaman is an experienced and respected comic book pro to whom Abrams sent an advance copy of Mom's Cancer, which he was kind enough to review today on his blog "Innocent Bystander." An excerpt:

.
"[The story is] told simply, but incredibly eloquently, and Fies is as gifted a writer as he is a cartoonist. His web version of Mom's Cancer won the first ever Eisner Award for digital comics last year. But like everything else, it means so much more in book form, having it to read and hold, away from the harsh, bright light of a computer screen. The book gives it permanence and meaning and is a fit tribute to a courageous woman and her family. Lord knows I wouldn't have been so dignified in such a battle. And Mom's Cancer is nothing if not a dignified, sincere account of a horrible time in the life of a family."

Gary (whom I've never met) says more nice things that I appreciate very much. It means a lot coming from someone with his experience and knowledge of the medium. Many thanks to Mr. Sassaman.

By the way, when the bad reviews come in I promise to share them as well. They're part of the experience, too, which is what this blog is meant to be about. But right now everything's looking pretty good.

Mighty Sorry

What looks like laziness to you--my lack of recent blogging--looks like too much other work to me. I'm still laboring under several deadlines for projects I need to get done before I leave for New York Comic-Con and the debut of Mom's Cancer at the end of the month.

I'm currently writing papers on solar power, fuel cells, and the hydrogen economy, if anyone's interested in my day job. None of them will be available to the public, although one of them will be part of a presentation to Congress in a few weeks if my co-author and I do a good job. I sometimes describe my job as taking 500 pages that no one can understand and turning them into 50 pages that anyone can; right now, we're taking those 50 pages and turning them into 5 pages that a utility executive can understand, then distilling those 5 pages into 5 bullet points that a politician can understand. It's hard to do. One of my favorite quotes is from Blaise Pascal, apologizing to a correspondent:

I have made this letter longer than usual,
because I lack the time to make it short.

Finally, and completely unrelated, I came across a quote by H.L. Mencken today that perfectly captured my thoughts on a particular issue:

The trouble with fighting for human freedom is
that one spends most of one’s time defending scoundrels.
For it is against scoundrels that oppressive laws are
first aimed, and oppression must be stopped at
the beginning if it is to be stopped at all.

Stars in My Eyes

I'm told by editor Charlie, who has seen the print version, that the "Publishers Weekly" review is not only favorable but Starred, indicating "a book of exceptional merit." That honor is not evident in the online version. Booksellers and librarians will take notice.

As self-effacing as I am, I won't argue with PW's assessment.

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.