London Calling

I awoke this morning to find quite a surge of hits from the U.K. thanks to this article in The Daily Telegraph. If you're new here, welcome and thanks. I hope you find something worthwhile.

The Telegraph article, titled "Ease Your Pain and Share Your Worries on the Web," looks at the therapeutic value of sharing stories such as my family's on the Internet. I did this interview with Barbara Lantin a couple of weeks ago and I think the story turned out great. Of course, like most Americans, I'm a sucker for a British accent. If you have one, I promise to find you twice as attractive, charming, and intelligent as you actually are.

Entertainment Weekly

I picked up this week's Entertainment Weekly (the April 7 issue with Howard Stern on the cover; on my first try, I bought the wrong one) and on Page 66 found this:


This is a very good review by Hannah Tucker. It did not escape my notice that three other graphic novels reviewed in the same issue received better grades of "A" or "A-minus." However, since those books' creators are Harvey Pekar, Julie Doucet and Jessica Abel, I'm satisfied with a "B-plus." That's a fine grade by EW standards. And I have a feeling that no one's going to base a purchase decision on my book's cumulative GPA (grade point average).

A Few New Reviews and a Comment

Louie pointed me to this March 28 review on The Onion's A.V. Club, which reads in part: "Creator Brian Fies began it as an online comic addressing his mother's lung cancer, and he writes and draws in a newspaper-comics-friendly style that's inviting to look at and easy to read, but does nothing to soft-sell his family's difficulties." The A.V. Club graded Mom's Cancer an "A-minus."

Back on March 12, Florida's St. Petersburg Times ran a brief review by staff writer Margo Hammond that began, "This unflinchingly honest graphic novel is a welcome departure from the excess sentimentality that followed the death of Dana Reeve...." Though I didn't find the coverage of Ms. Reeve's passing as excessive as Ms. Hammond did, I appreciate her recommendation and am happy she picked up on my story's lack of pathos. I did that on purpose.

Watermark Books posted a March 22 review by Mark Bradshaw on its website, which reads in part: "The pairing of light-hearted medium and troubling subject matter works surprisingly well: Fies's sweet-faced characters are brave but a bit bewildered by their medical adventure, and they find that cancer treatment, like cartooning, can contain heroic efforts and absurd comedy." I'm grateful both for the review and for Mr. Bradshaw knowing that the possessive of "Fies" is "Fies's." A lot of Fieses don't even know that.

I also understand that Entertainment Weekly magazine reviewed Mom's Cancer in its new issue out today. I haven't seen it yet, but hear that I earned a "B-plus."

What is it with reviewers and grades? Are they all frustrated grammar school teachers?

I have a hard time with reviews. Even when they're good--and I haven't seen a negative or hostile review yet--I wonder why they weren't better (what would have gotten that B-plus up to an A?). A writer friend reminds me that I'm lucky to be reviewed at all, and he's absolutely right. The enormous majority of books come and go without raising a ripple. Most writers would kill for the press I've received and I'm genuinely appreciative.

I thought I learned long ago to separate myself from my work and take criticism like a pro. As a writer, I've worked with a lot of editors to dispassionately hack up my prose and make it better. It's part of the job. I don't take it personally. But Mom's Cancer is different. It is personal.

There's also the fact that, for better or worse, Mom's Cancer is cast. Even if a reviewer were to pinpoint one change that would improve the story 300 percent, there's nothing I could do about it now except say, "You know, you're right. That would have been a lot better."

Where's My Book?

Mom's Cancer is showing up in more places than I expected. Oh, I knew it'd be in bookstores, and indeed friends and readers have written to tell me they've seen it in Georgia, Texas, Minnesota, New York, and points elsewhere.

What I mean is that it seems to be showing up in a variety of locations within bookstores. I personally have found it on the "Graphic Novel" and "Biography" shelves. Others have seen it in "Health," "Disease," or "Memoir." In rare instances I appreciate enormously, a couple of independent bookstores have simply stacked it on the front counter.

On display just inside the front door of a bookstore in Santa
Monica, Calif. You'll have to take my word that Nurse Sis
is standing right beside the table but is cropped out because
she made me promise not to show the picture to anyone.

Where a bookstore decides to put your book can be very important. Good placement has made many a bestseller, while poor or thoughtless placement has buried many a deserving work. This can be a real problem for graphic novels, which more often than not end up on the same shelf as "Dilbert." There's nothing wrong with "Dilbert"; we just don't have that much in common.

Rob Wynne found Mom's Cancer in good company
at a Borders near Atlanta, Georgia and took this
photo with his camera-phone, which made my day.

That's frustrating. Comics are a medium, not a genre. Graphic novels can be biographies, mysteries, histories, romances, horror stories, science fiction stories, coming-of-age stories, or anything else prose books can be, but somehow--just because they all have drawings in them--they often end up on the same shelf.

I understand why that happens and, frankly, if you're a graphic novel fan and know what you're looking for, it makes them easy to locate. The readers who lose out are history buffs who'll never find Eric Shanower's Age of Bronze, political or travel buffs who'll never find Guy Delisle's Pyongyang, or whoever my potential readers are who'll never find Mom's Cancer.

Which is why I'm happily surprised to see so much variety in my book's placement. It would be interesting to track which spots yield the best sales, but I don't suppose there's any way to do that. Pity; it sounds like a fun experiment.

Lynda found it at a Barnes & Noble shelved
with other cancer-themed books. She bought
the second one from the left. (Thank you!)

Cody's Fourth Street, Berkeley

Last night's talk and signing at Cody's Books in Berkeley went very well, I think. My wife and I went early to meet our friend Christina for dinner, then walked to the bookstore for the event. Although I've spent a little time around the U.C. Berkeley campus over the years, I'd never been to this part of the city and enjoyed it a lot.

The staff at Cody's was extremely welcoming and helpful. A few surprises awaited me: my wife's boss and his family came, as did my wife's aunt and uncle. Walking to the podium to unexpectedly find familiar, friendly faces was great albeit a little disorienting. "What are they doing here?" Weird, but in a good way.

I've done a couple of signings before but this was my first real talk before a book crowd. I told my story: how my mother was diagnosed with metastatic lung cancer, its impact on our family, how and why I decided to write the book, reaction to it both from readers and my family, its publication, Mom's passing, etc. I don't really know what people want or expect to hear: do they want me to talk about cancer? Family dynamics? Comics? Book publishing? A couple of months ago I had coffee with a syndicated cartoonist who said that people who come to book signings only want to know one thing: How to get published themselves and take my place. That might be very true for a cartoonist in his position, but I think the nature of my book draws a different crowd. I tried to strike a balance among all of those topics and left time for audience questions to fill in any gaps.

While I very much appreciated everyone who came, two people I met last night really stood out:

Margo Mercedes Rivera-Weiss is the librarian and art gallery coordinator for the Women's Cancer Resource Center (www.wcrc.org) of Oakland. The WCRC co-sponsored the event and is very active in community outreach, advocacy, and services. We talked for about 10 minutes before the event and I appreciated the opportunity to meet her and find out more about the center.

Sarah Trejo is the patient services program coordinator for the National Brain Tumor Foundation (www.braintumor.org) headquartered in San Francisco. Sarah and I had corresponded by e-mail before and discovered we had a link through my publicist at Abrams, whose boyfriend is currently biking from Alaska to Argentina to raise funds for the organization. Sarah is a triathlete who was kind enough to mention my book in her blog and bring her entire family to last night's signing, and I really enjoyed meeting her in person.

Characteristically, I now have a mental list of 20 things I plan to improve next time, but I think my approach worked and I did well. I didn't count but would guess that about 30 people attended, and we probably sold slightly fewer than that many books for the fine folks at Cody's. They said turnout was good and seemed pleased. So was I.

Last-Minute Reminder

I will be at Cody's Books, 1730 Fourth Street (not the Cody's on Telegraph) in Berkeley, Calif., at 7 p.m. tonight. It would be great to see you there.

It would be great to see anyone there....

Mornings on 2

I just got home from the studio and will write more soon. The short version: Nice people. Good interview. No barf. I'm happy.

LATER....

KTVU is one of the bigger, better television stations in the San Francisco Bay Area. Now a Fox station, they were independent for decades and at one point tried to become a national Superstation like WGN or TBS. I believe they have the largest news organization in northern California and the highest-rated 10 o'clock newscast in the country. So it was pretty exciting to be invited to appear on their morning show.

Everyone I met there was great. I arrived about 40 minutes before my interview and was ushered into a green room with six professional automobile drivers and a guy from Consumer Reports who were there to talk about new cars for 2007. Nice guys, and chatting with them gave me something to focus on other than the small monitor showing what was happening live through the big double doors right around the corner.

My "handler" was Michele, whom I took to be a producer though I don't know her real job title. She'd asked me to bring some family photos to show during my segment; I included some images from the book as well. She gave me a five-minute warning, guided me into the studio, stood by my side until the commercial break before my segment, and sat me on my chair. As we walked into the studio, Michele asked me how many television interviews I'd done and did not seem comforted by my answer: "Counting this one? One."


But I've actually spent a fair amount of time in television studios (different story, different time) so I was pretty comfortable in the environment. However, I'm still always struck by how business-like and unglamorous they are in life. Besides the three newsreaders and weatherman, there were no more than five other people in the enormous room outfitted with four different sets (anchor desk, weather station, a couch set, and the chair-and-table set we used). It was a surprisingly low-key affair.

I met the host, Ross McGowan, and we had just a few seconds to chat before we returned to the air. I was very impressed with Ross. He's been doing his job a long time and would have every reason to coast, but it was obvious he (or someone working for him) had really done some homework. When I go into an interview, I have a mental checklist of key points I plan to make. Before I even opened my mouth, Ross's introduction made two of them for me. He asked apt questions and it felt like a nice conversation. He made it easy. After we went to commercial I shook Ross's hand, signed his book, spread thanks all around, gave high fives to the car guys, picked up a videotape of my appearance, and was escorted to the door. Start to finish, less than an hour.

I just watched the tape and was only slightly mortified. I spotted things I need to work on if there's ever a next time. Sideways glances at the monitors and teleprompters made me look nervous and shifty. I seem to have a couple of new wrinkles I never noticed before. Alas, I fear little can be done about my hideous face and voice. But overall I am very happy with the result and grateful to KTVU for the invitation.

One fun post-script: as I was driving home I got a call from Nurse Sis, who told me she'd heard the broadcast in L.A. and congratulated me for doing a nice job. I was mystified. Did she somehow find it online? A podcast? No... her local friend Lorna (who left a comment in the previous post) called her and held a phone to her television for the entire segment! I thought that was fantastic. Thanks, Lorna!

Bay Area Media Alert

I just found out I'll be on the KTVU (Channel 2 in Oakland, Calif.) television program "Mornings on 2" this Thursday, March 23. I'm scheduled to be interviewed for about five minutes at 8:15 a.m. This is in advance of my appearance at Cody's Fourth Street in Berkeley at 7 p.m. Saturday.

For those beyond the San Francisco Bay Area who won't be able to see the show, I expect the first 4½ minutes to look a little something like this:

The last half minute may involve either speaking or barfing. I haven't decided which way to go yet. Tune in to find out!

Two New Reviews

Arnold Wagner is an old-school cartoonist, and I say that with great respect. He wrote "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Cartooning" a few years back and is a historian of the art and craft of comics. He also knows more about nibs than anyone I've ever met.

I got to know Arnold the same way I've gotten to know a lot of people in the past couple of years, via the Internet, and he's been kind and encouraging to me. If he weren't, I wouldn't have mentioned him in my book's acknowledgements. Arnold recently posted a review of Mom's Cancer on his blog, saying it is "honest about the difficulties, including those most of us don't think about, about the dark moments, but there's warmth, humor, and hope along with the kind of reality most of us know." Aside from this review, I think a few minutes touring Arnold's website is time well spent.

David LeBlanc is the editor of the Comic Book Network Electronic Magazine, a text e-zine sent to more than 1,400 subscribers. David reviewed Mom's Cancer in his March 10, 2006 issue. Since his archives are a bit difficult to dig into and he gave permission to reprint his work, I've pasted the review below.

Many thanks to both Arnold and David.

MY VIEW
By David LeBlanc
There are a few graphic novels, or long story arcs of series that stand out by how they affect your thinking or just your enjoyment of the reading. For me some of those are MAGE:THE HERO DISCOVERD, PEDRO AND ME, FAITH A FABLE, INNOCENT BYSTANDER and a few more perhaps. I now add to that list MOM'S CANCER. The aforementioned titles are ones I purposely bought extra copies to give to those I felt should read them. MOM'S CANCER will be shared with others I love as well.

When the Eisner committee decided to recognize comics created for the web with their own award, Best Digital Comic, MOM'S CANCER won the first ever Eisner for the web version of this story. It is a non-fiction account of his mother's battle with lung cancer and the interaction of her three children as that struggle progressed. It covers the two years from 2004 through 2005 in the lives of Brian, his two sisters, his mom and his stepfather. As often is the case with serious subject matter, the author looks back to earlier times to examine the basis of beliefs, feelings and motivation of some of the characters.

I too lived through the diagnosis and battle against cancer of my own mother, though not as intimately as Brian and his sisters had to. This is not so much about the disease but about the effects on those involved with the patient. It is not a how-to cope book either. Rather it is a frank telling of one story. He shows how each sibling played a part - nurse sister was the guiding figure cutting through the red tape and making sure things happened, younger sister lived with mom and bore the day to day care-giving duties while Brian offered what help that he could and learned as much as he could about what was going on to be informed on what to expect.

It is remarkable that so much information is passed along during the course of this journey. No two cancers are alike and some may be shocked to learn that treatments are often altered as you go
with changing circumstances rather than some fixed regimen that is followed explicitly. At the later stage in the cancer Mom had, only 5% survive so it is easy to see the choice not to go through extensive chemotherapy, which is seriously debilitating, is made by many. There is really one thing that stands out - the support of family in caring and understanding is most important if the patient is to fight the fight.

Brian has a delightful cartoon style you will warm up to instantly. His scripting and sense of humor makes it readable from first to last. Regardless of how the story may end, it is a story of hope. Another person may have been resigned to her fate and that would have been a different journey. This one is about a choice to fight and not give up. It is uplifting to see these people not give in to despair. I hesitate to say how it ends, though there are really two endings. I will say I teared up reading the afterword. Anything that affects you emotionally like that is well worth your time and money. This one's a keeper.

Happy Birthday, Girls!

Happy Birthday to my twin daughters, born 18 years ago today ... back before I went gray, not that I'm implying any correlation. The law may call them adults (we reminded them last week that if they were planning any crimes they'd better get cracking), but they'll always be my babies. And love to my wife, who did most of the heavy lifting.

Good Press

My Internet friend Mike Peterson is a journalist in Glens Falls, N.Y. and one of Mom's Cancer's earliest readers and champions. Mike runs the "Newspapers in Education" program for the Glens Falls Post-Star and does a wonderful job of incorporating comics into his projects aimed at young readers. In a recent "Honor Roll" supplement of his newspaper, Mike dedicated a page to Mom's Cancer that I think provides one of the most insightful analyses of my story I've read.

What I like about Mike's piece is that it introduces comics as a medium that can address serious, complex, mature topics. That's news to a lot of people. In addition, he focused on individual pages or panels and dug down to examine what's really going on in them--something Mike regularly does in his analysis of political cartoons for a feature called "Drawing Conclusions" (available at www.nelliebly.org, which seems to be offline today). His article is a nice piece of work that I really appreciate.

With Mike's permission, I've put a 2.3-MB PDF of the page on my momscancer.com website. It can be downloaded HERE or by clicking the picture below. Thanks again, Mike.

"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.