Day Two

So far there is a distinct absence of failure. I'm posting again, and it's still recent and relevant to the previous one. Suck it, apathy.

I'm a geek, and I'm quite proud of it. I know this because I fawn over the technical aspects of upcoming video games while I try to compose a list of influential graphic novelists to pretend is definitive. Said list is far from complete, and right now mostly consists of Frank Miller, Grant Morrison, Alan Moore, Neil Gaiman, and Jeff Smith. These folks are proper reflections of my reading tastes, and I suppose my tastes in most other media. I could write several paragraphs about each author's unique style and how it relates to the human condition (therefore to myself), but at present I don't really see the need. Any following I'm likely to develop will probably either know who these people are, have the sense to look them up, or stopped caring once they realized that "graphic novelist" doesn't mean "people that write sex and violence and cannibalism," (even if these are all evident in Frank Miller's work. I think the more important trend to get from this list is the overarching genres each tends to fall into.

These five authors are all heroes of mine, and each represents something different about the way I see life. Jeff Smith has the ability to present complicated concepts in a way that anyone can understand and sympathize with, without getting tedious and preachy. Neil Gaiman presents the unusual in natural ways, allowing the audience to cope with the adversity in a more civilized manner. Alan Moore encourages the readers to pierce the conventions of normalcy that skew true vision, even/especially when said conventions are so huge that we miss them in everyday life. Grant Morrison asks questions that no one ever wishes to ask, and provides insight into the queries that all have but few ever ask in sanity. Frank Miller shows the gritty, animalistic side of all humans, especially those who are so "civilized" that their humanity rides solely on the perceptions of all other humans around them.

I generally didn't have comic books as a child, I discovered each of these authors within the last half decade or so, some as recently as this past month. This isn't nostalgia talking, it's practical research and pragmatic logic. If it were nostalgia, you wouldn't know what the hell I was typing about when I reference Zen: The Intergalactic Ninja. Comics aren't for kids, but when they get them, kids pretend they are.

I should start writing a graphic novel soon. Fundamentally, this is very different from a comic. Comics, as inherent in the title, are supposed to have punchlines. I want to write something deeper than a few throw away jokes on some throw away characters. I don't want it to be "Two guys walk into a bar... PUNCHLINE!" (This one works better in person, accompanied by a jab to the nose.) I want it to be "To guys walk into a bar in Israel... five minutes later, it ceases to exist." No nonsense, only the gravity of a situation and just enough quips to make it digestible to the reader.

There is just enough nonsense in the five heroes above's work to make the intense nature of the stories told bearable to the average person. Monsters craving quiche give way to discourse over materialism and fear mongering. The happy appearance of the campy villain from the 60's provides cover for the unraveling of all of space-time through God's boredom. The humor provides a lift so the readers can stay on point for the trauma yet to ensue.

I've got to try it. There's no drawback, there is only progress. And quiche.