I'm a twat

Or a twit.

Or whatever you call the people who have turned their life over to the twittersphere.

I've decided that this blog has started to get way too focused on one aspect of my life (writing my comic), which was never my intention. So I'm turning over all of my comic-related updates to my twitter page, which I will update at a whim whenever a particular idea arises that I want to document.

I'm not linking the twitter page here, because one of the main tenets of this particular blog is to not connect it with anything else in my online life, but in case anyone stumbles on this and needs to find it, you can easily do so. Hint: my comic is about fighting. It is what some might call a fight comic.

I will soon be back here, writing about such varied topics like high school crushes, masturbation, and hot virgin sex. Damn, maybe this blog is really focused on one aspect of my life.

Anyways, that's the last of the scriptwriting updates here. All updates on that front will now have to be 140 characters or less.

As you go micro, things expand

I know this has turned into a rolling blog about my creative writing process, but that's what's on my mind most often and this is a great outlet.

So I realized that I sort of work from the outside in as I attempt to craft this story. Started with a general concept, which was a mess of brainstorming ideas thrown onto a piece of paper, then created a central character and worked on his bio as if I were him writing a journal entry (the only way I know how to delve into one's mind best), then as I zoomed in closer and closer, I realized that the explanations became more and more complex.

First, it was a matter of coming up with a story arc. I thought of a few that could serve as a start to things, and I worked on those, attempting to break them down into individual 24-page comics.

Then it was time to focus on the first of these arcs, which I realized would be better served as a 2-part intro comic, 24 pages per issue, but altogether a 48-page intro.

Ok, with that out of the way, it's time to actually focus on the pages themselves--more working around, more extrapolation, more processing and organizing.

Ok, that's still way up in the air--lets just get a 2-page introduction to the whole damn thing: where to start? What panels to focus on? How to lay out the first page?

Ok the first page has a vague idea, now to describe it so that my artist knows what he's drawing--oh shit, I've got to describe exactly what I see in a readable enough manner that it will come off as if he knows what I'm looking at. Lets start with the first PICTURE on the page.

It'll be a panoramic 3-panel-sized picture. It'll be of so-and-so doing such-and-such with this guy and that guy there, with this in the background. Oh I should describe main character to him, let me give his entire description so he can form a picture in his head. Let me attach a picture of what I'm going for. Let me restrict him in some ways, but let him draw what he feels in other ways.

Holy shit, an hour of writing and I'm still on the first picture of the first page of the first issue of the first episode of the first arc of this comic and I'm still describing what I want it to look like, and I don't even think I'm halfway there!

I guess having a certain vision comes with a lot of explaining. I hope the artist is up for it, or else there goes another adventure to look for someone to put this into pictures for me.

Issues 1 & 2

So I've got a pretty good storyline and plot set in for Issues 1 & 2 of my comic. It serves well as an introduction to the main characters without going through the boring "this guy's name is this, he acts like this" droning that plague a lot of introductory episodes of things. It does a good job of showing the environment these fighters are in, and setting up the inevitable clash that will be happening in the future.

I've taken to calling each mini-arc "episodes" instead of the traditional "issues", for one main reason. I want to be sure that in 24 pages, I fill each issue with enough story, action, and intrigue to warrant spending one's time reading it. When I use the term "issue", I think of one piece of a puzzle, or one chapter in a book. That's a well enough way of putting it, but when you're reading a book, you're not necessarily thinking each chapter will be as brilliant as the one before it or the one after it, so you're more willing to forgive the simple chapters and continue reading. Because you paid for the whole book, not just the chapter in question.

But with something like a comic book, or even a TV show, each issue/chapter is rightly subjecting itself to more criticism, because they each stand alone as well as work in part of a greater whole. So I want each issue to be seen as an episode of a brilliant TV show like The Sopranos or The Wire, where you feel fulfilled and satisfied after you've finished reading it. When I use the term episode, I think in terms of TV--something I'm much more familiar with than books. And I'm striving to make each issue just as fun and exciting and intriguing and poignant as the last.

So I started a post about my comic script

...and next thing you know I'm mapping out an entire run for the first arc, complete with introductory scene, potential flashback sequence, first conflict, the details of the environment, and I start typing out brainstormed ideas like a madman.

So I decided not to post that publicly (even though nobody reads this) and instead keep all that stuff to myself.

What was going to be a blurb about writing turned out to be a blurb about a blurb about writing that turned into a long creative process.

Needless to say--I'm really happy with the character and his potential so far. It's unlike any character I know of in literature, but is based on a few real-life people. He's a fully three dimensional person, distinctly American, and has his own philosophy on life based on empirical experience.

Next, fleshing out the environment and potential conflicts/antagonists.

On: the lack of updates

I'm actually working on writing in a creative sense for the first time in my life. This is not really the reason I haven't been updating here--that lends more to me having about zero time to myself since my girl and I spend pretty much all of our waking hours together (not a bad thing, mind you).

Nobody reads this blog anyways (which is exactly the point of the blog), so it's not too big a deal letting out some of my secrets here, but I figure I'll still keep it vague just in case.

I'm working on a script for a comic book series/graphic novel/sequential art story, that right now looks like it will be around 72 pages long.

It centers on an MMA fighter with a rebellious streak that has gotten him in trouble. It will deal with issues of male aggression (and modern masculinity in general), capitalism, bucking institutions, and a somewhat unique take on the traditional revenge tale.

Nobody in this comic has super powers or abilities beyond that which you can find in our real world, although the universe it takes place in is slightly different in a few ways.

I've got a very rough idea of the volumes of the book, broken down into 3 different sections with 3 separate mini-arcs.

But before I get to any story details, I'm still in the process of fleshing out the main character and his backstory, motivations, abilities, and such.

My cousin will likely be doing the artwork for it, if I can convince him to work for free. Otherwise, I'm going to have to shop around the internet and try to find someone whose style reflects what I'm going for here.

Anyways, just wanted to drop a quick update about that, and since I don't want to talk about this to too many people, this will likely be the spot where I update about my progress on the writing front.

The 27th Year

My 27th year is the one I need to start with a bang, because this is the year shit starts to get right for me.

I think my past mistakes were putting my happiness and fulfillment with my life in the hands of others. I was looking at my life through other people's eyes, and using their criteria for whether or not I was happy. In addition, I was using these insignificant "markers" in life (a good job, money, creative talent, social situations, etc) to determine where my happiness level was. For example, my job prospects were based on whether or not employers would offer me something. If I were offered a job, I'd be happy. If not, I'd be depressed. Needless to day, based on this criteria, I was not happy at all in the past 3 years. Putting that much pressure on myself for something that I don't have all that much control over is just a silly way to exist.

In recent months, I've started to shy away from others, and have started to focus on myself. And it has paid off pretty well. I'm starting to get a feel for what I like instead of trying to plug myself into what other people like and hoping I get the same feelings they do.

It's kind of like when a movie is really really hyped up as the greatest thing ever, and you go into it waiting for your life to change. You're ALWAYS going to end up disappointed, because while maybe it's a moving, kick-ass, wonderful, perfectly shot movie, you went into it expecting it to change your life, and movies just don't have that power. Sure, a movie might push YOU into changing your life, but the movie itself is just some motherfuckers on screen talking to each other.

Same with all these things that I was hoping would make me happy. I moved closer to NYC because I saw how great my friend's life in the city was. He had a well-paying job doing what he loved to do, and was out partying every night and reporting back all the time about how much his life had improved (not bragging, just being honest and genuinely wanting to share his happiness). I saw that and wanted a piece of that. If that's what it takes to be happy, then I'll do that!

I did, and I do enjoy living near the city, but I don't have the high-profile job, or the creative fulfillment, or the social connections he does.

So instead I'm carving out my own path. I've started to shy away a lot more from the drinking and partying scene, and I find myself sitting and reading a whole lot more. I've always like the idea of reading, but I could probably count the amount of books I've read for my own amusement on one hand. I find myself being "sober guy" a lot more at parties and the like, and I really don't find myself regretting it much. I'm not going back to my straightedge high school days, because I do enjoy a good drunken night here and there, but they're much fewer and further between than they used to be.

I also realized that more than any creative endeavor out there, I enjoy writing. I've written nothing but pure autobiographical explorations to this point, but I sort of feel like fiction and non-fiction aren't all that different from each other, and here's why--if I'm telling a story about something that happened to me, I tend to embellish certain points of the story, maybe a little differently than it actually happened to me in the moment. I don't lie, of course, but the point is, I very well could lie, and the second I do that, one man's fiction is another's non-fiction.

Now say I stumble upon a situation and I imagine it going differently than it actually goes down. Say I see a dog dart in front of a car and quickly jump out of the way last minute. If I imagine the car swerving the other direction and hitting the dog, I've just made something up. It's not what happened, but it very well could have. Now let me take that simple premise and build what would be the logical outfall from it. I've just created a cause and effect. This is storytelling at its simplest, and it's from this simple building that I plan to create a story for myself.

Now, why do I embellish certain parts of the stories when I'm re-telling them later. Is it to make me look good? Is it to make me seem interesting? Possibly. But it's also for my audience's benefit. My audience (which is usually one or two people to whom I'm relating the story) has got no reason to be interested in what I have to say unless I make it compelling for them. I've got to appeal to them in a way that keeps them interested and makes them see themselves in such a situation.

I'm not trained in the creative writing department. I don't know the nuances of character development, story arcs, or plotlines. But I know how to tell a story to a captive audience. And that is what I plan to do this year. My big creative endeavor in this, the 27th year of my life, is to build up a story from scratch, and not just for my own wanking interests. I want to create something compelling and that touches on the human condition. I might be writing in some capacity to come off as smart or interesting, sure. But moreso than that, I'm writing for an audience who needs a reason to read it.

The fact that I haven't read many books, nor have been on the art of doing so, and by most accounts probably shouldn't be writing one is something I'm trying to spin into a positive. I'm trying to compare it to a great songwriter who isn't a virtuoso on guitar using what he knows effectively. Someone like one of my heroes--Ben Weasel--who admittedly is a very basic guitar player, but uses what he does know to craft some brilliant pop songs. I hope to use the storytelling tricks I've learned through my own personal experiences to make a readable, fun, and hopefully dynamic story that doesn't feel the need to flourish or use the millions of literary tricks that one can learn by going through a class or by reading innumerable books.

And I promise it won't be as jumpy or herky-jerky as this blog entry is. This blog is a dump for my own personal brain droppings, not a cohesive read for audiences of any kind. The difference is, this is for ME, while the story I'm hoping to write and share with the masses will be for YOU.

Oh yeah, and it will most likely be in comic book form, hopefully with my cousin doing the art, unless we clash over our creative differences. We'll see.

Valentine's pressure & expectations...

I feel completely drained.

I don't know if it's the pressure of Valentine's Day that's doing it to me, or if it's the fact that I feel like I haven't had a true mental break in so long that I can't remember.

Even as I type this, I'm sitting at work with my co-worker probably looking over her shoulder at me. I have to shut the window over and over again because I can't even sit for 5 minutes and write without something interfering with it. This is how compartmentalized my life has become, and it's starting to take its toll on me.

I walked from my car to work this morning (about a 7-10 minute walk) and all I could think about was how anxious I feel all the time.

I started to blame my girlfriend for this, but it can't be entirely her fault, because I was in this same state in my last relationship. Difference is, this time my girl actually seems to care if I'm happy. She can't be blamed for the fact that I allow her happiness to trump mine, even if it means pushing my own regard for my mental state out of the picture altogether until it finally catches up to me, like it did this morning.

I think I give off an air of confidence and complete mental stability, and that makes people around me feel like they don't need to worry about anything they do upsetting me, because I'm so quick to just make the situation relaxed for them, even if I'm not in the best mood. And for some reason, when it happens to be my girlfriend in that situation, it must just be in the female nature to want to push that person to the point where they can see just how upset or uncomfortable they can make me.

With L***, it was complete irrationality. She'd do something like ask me a question that there is no possible way to answer without either blatantly lying to her face or causing her to get upset. She seemed to always corner me in these situations when I just wanted to relax. She'd ask something like "if I had a penis, would you still love me?".

Now how does one answer something like that? I thought I pulled it off pretty well, actually--answering "of course I'd still love you, but I don't know how sexually attracted to you I would be". Makes sense--I'm not gay, and I don't really like any penises that aren't attached to my body, but mentally I felt we would still connect as we always had, and so the love would still be there.

This was not the right answer. The only way she would have been satisfied would have been if I straight up said, "yes, of course I'd still love you, and everything about you, including your new penis and I'd be just as sexually charged to make love to you and your penis". But then again, she'd know I was lying, because she'd see that I wasn't sincere. She would've peppered me with questions until I had to admit that it wasn't the truth and we'd be in the same situation we were in if I had answered the other way.

Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

With my girl now, it's nowhere near that dramatic. Thank God for that. But there are still little situations where she'll needle me and push every wrong button to the point where I lose it, seemingly because she's cranky or in a bad mood or just annoyed at my general sense of stability (which is for the most part a complete front just to keep the peace).

Example: last night. We're sitting doing nothing in particular, just watching TV, and she tells me to take my pants off. In all seriousness. Now, I wouldn't have a problem taking my pants off, if there's a reason for it. All she has to do is shoot me a look or lean over and she can get my pants off without much of a problem. But this wasn't really a sexual thing. It was just for her own entertainment, and I could tell. If I would have taken my pants off, she would have looked at me, and I'd just be sitting there, wondering why I didn't have pants on. So I said no. At least, not unless she was willing to do the same.

It wouldn't have felt right, because I don't like being someone's entertainment. It's like when she asks me to dance in my boxers, or take pictures of myself. It sounds like a little quick joke, like its something that could be chuckled off and forgotten about, but she isn't kidding when she asks this shit of me. How do I know that? Because she'll continue asking and stare at me, expecting a response. And that's when it gets uncomfortable. I don't think it's a matter of me having too much pride in myself to say that I don't want to dance in my boxers for you, or take off my pants, simply because you demand it. As a man, I have a very intricate system of sexuality that is grounded on my own self-confidence, and once you take that away from me by making me degrade myself for your entertainment, I'm no longer feeling it anymore, and you've turned yourself from an object of desire to the person responsible for me feeling the way I do, and that inner rage I feel gets bottled up, turns to anxiety and depression, and just kills all libido I would've had if you had simply treated me like I feel I deserve and saw that I'm not comfortable being your performing monkey.

So instead, I fight it because I'd rather fight that force than to go through feeling humiliated and lose my sexual desire for her. I'd rather not cater to those whims, because it sets a bad precedent for the future. If she knows she can say jump and I'll ask how high, she'll just continue pushing that until I'm doing things for her that I know deep down cause me nothing but remorse and anger. And I'm sure it'd lash out in other, more subtle ways that I don't want to get to.

So nip it in the bud, fight that fight right then and there, and hope that she understands why I don't want any part of that arrangement.

It's not the act of taking my pants off or dancing or whatever she asks of me that's the problem. The acts themselves are harmless and silly. If I'm feeling harmless and silly, I act on it and do harmless and silly things. It's the nature of the approach that bothers me. It's the "do it or I'm going to get pissed" aspect that leaves me dumbfounded. If you're giving me an ultimatum for something that's supposed to be intimate, then if I act on that, it's doing something I don't want to do to simply please you and not make you upset.

And sadly, when I refused yesterday, she seemed to genuinely get upset. She didn't want to show it, because I think she realized how ridiculous that was (another huge step up from the last relationship I was in--L*** would have never realized it and thought it perfectly acceptable to be pissed off at me for something like that). But it was obviously there. It came out in other ways, as it always will. She didn't get her way, I resisted her demands, and all of a sudden she was cranky and everything seemed to annoy her. Or maybe she had already felt that way, and this was her excuse for letting it out.

All in all, it wasn't a big deal, and we went to sleep saying I love you and there really wasn't any problems.

But now I've got a whole new set of problems with this weekend. Valentine's Day. I abhor Valentine's Day, just as I abhor any situation in which I'm coerced to make the perfect day. This includes Christmas, the girl's birthday and our anniversary. I immediately feel the pressure to make it a perfect day, and don't want anything to go wrong. And I always feel I fucked up or am going to fuck up. This year, I'm planning on making her a lasagna dinner, buying her wine, and getting a nice tiramisu cake. Here's the problem. What part do I make a surprise and which part do I tell her? If I want to make the tiramisu a surprise, do I go out Saturday morning to buy it, or will that look like I'm doing the old "last minute shopping" thing again, like I usually do? If I bring it home tonight, does it kill all the romance because everything is so prepared? If I mess up the dinner, is the night ruined? If I don't get her a gift, am I cheap? If I do get her a gift, what do I get her with the limited funds I have? Is she getting me a gift? I don't want her to get me something if I'm not getting her anything. I have to get her a card, but what kind of card? Something sappy? Funny? What do I write in it? I don't want to trump her card, but I don't want to get trumped by it either. What if they're out of cards?

I fucking hate these holidays. I like hanging out with her. I like going out with her. I like doing things for her. But I HATE being forced to do it. It's just like the requests from her. The acts themselves are not the issue. It's not the fact that I'm making dinner and wine and getting her a card and flowers. It's the coercion that angers me and makes me anxious. It's this pressure to make sure everything is right or else the day is ruined. It's the commercials, and the ads, and her friends' stories, and what she's going to tell them, and how they'll react, and how that'll make her feel, and how she'll bring it up to me, if ANYTHING goes wrong tomorrow night. The fact that so much hinges on this one night, or one weekend, or one week even, is too much for me to want to think about.

This is the reason why the 4th of July used to be my favorite holiday. I say used to be, because now it coincides with her birthday the next day, so that pressure is even there for that. So I guess Memorial Day replaces it as my favorite now. No pressure, just barbecuing and relaxing. That's it.

I haven't thought of a way to end this rant, so I'll just say that most likely this whole thing is in my head, and tomorrow will likely go off without any problems. At least, I can only hope so.