MattBrady
06-16-2003, 06:30 AM
<img src="http://www.newsarama.com/sangiacomo/Epic2.jpg" width="200" height="304" border="0" hspace="2" align="right">by Mike San Giacomo
Two weeks ago before we were so rudely interrupted by real-time looks at artists involved in “Nowhere Man,” I was at a point where, basically, my whole concept of an invisible reporter who goes to Iraq and kills Saddam Hussein was dead in the water.
For those coming in really late, comic critic Mike San Giacomo, (me) responded to a challenge from Marvel to write a comic for the soon-to-be-relaunched Epic line.
My character, Nowhere Man, a newspaper reporter who can turn invisible, struck someone’s fancy at Marvel. Two weeks ago my third version of full scripts for issues one and two were in and Assistant Editor Stephanie Moore had some suggestions.
There was this wonderful episode of Fawlty Towers starring Monty Python alumnus John Cleese in which he responds to his wife’s demands by saying, “Yes dear, and would you like me to move the building a bit to the left?”
I use that line a lot.
I didn’t say it to Assistant Editor Stephanie Moore when she suggested I start my series with the origin of the character.
It would change the whole complexion of the story I wanted to tell. It would set everything on a new path. But her suggestion was not the worst thing I would hear. That came in another e-mail a few days later.
In it, she suggested that maybe I should consider taking on a writing partner.
Whoa.
A writing partner?
God, I must really suck.
What the heck ever made me think I could write a comic?
I gotta tell you kids, this hit like the Hulk.
No matter how nice it was made to sound, to me it read like this:
“My God you stink. What can we do to dissuade you from carrying on this charade any further? We were kidding when we offered you a book. It was a joke. Now go away and leave the writing to the pros.”
A writing partner would not have worked because I would have no idea what to tell him to do. To be honest, I was not clear on what the problem was. I mean, they liked the concept; they liked the dialogue, where was I going wrong?
The editorial direction was rather vague.
I wrote a quick note back to Stephanie which simply said I would take one more crack at the script over the weekend, writing it from scratch beginning at the beginning, with the character’s origin.
If she didn’t like it, I was gone. No hard feelings.
Hey, I gave it my best shot and if it didn’t work, so be it. But I would rise or fall on my own merits, not on someone else’s coattails.
By this time I had already told my family and friends that the comic was a “go.” I imagined how stupid I would feel letting them all know that it didn’t work out.
At least I would have my weekends free again.
A few hours later I noticed an e-mail message from Stephanie. I felt a little uneasy as I opened it, figuring it would be a kiss-off.
I was wrong.
It was short and simple, “Ok,” it said. “Give it a try.”
Well, that’s cool.
I drove from Cleveland to Detroit the next morning to work on a real-life story about a guy named Mr. Daddy who was popped for kidnapping a Cleveland teenager and forcing her to join his prostitution ring. Allegedly. The guy goes to trial next week.
The whole ride there, about 150 miles and change, I thought about amplifying the origin of Jack Baxter, the Invisible Man. I had a pretty solid origin story already, but I figured since I had to go back to the character’s beginning I might as well work on a whole story arc.
The plots percolated in the back of my brain while I sat in court taking notes as young women talked about life in “the life” at Mr. Daddy’s first court hearing. Funny how we can multi-task.
By the time I wrote the story and drove back home a day later, I had four whole issues all laid out in my head.
This adventure would take place before the current adventure and was pretty darn cool.
I closeted myself in my office and started to work on Friday night. By Saturday night, I had two full issues scripted and a trash can full of rejected print outs.
By Sunday evening I had a solid story synopsis for issue number #3 and #4. Heck, this one even had an honest-to-God super villain.
I was pretty darn proud of this puppy.
I printed it out and put it in an envelope. I’d mail it from work the next day.
Here are the first few pages:
<blockquote>A NEW BEGINNING:
NOWHERE MAN
PAGE ONE
Half-page
Scene opens in a man’s bachelor apartment.
Jack Baxter, 23, average height and weight, brown hair, is in bed. Sheets are a kid’s western motif, cowboys and Indians. On the wall is one of those hip-swinging Elvis clock; a framed charcoal drawing of a beautiful young woman, rows of books in a bookcase.
The place is a mess. There’s a half-open pizza box on the floor next to the bed. Clothes and shoes tossed all over the place. A woman’s bra is slung over a chair.
Jack’s alone in bed. He’s got a pillow over his head to keep out the bright summer sunlight streaming in through the curtainless windows.
There’s a phone next to his bed and a digital clock with large, red numbers reading 10:35.
Show a large calendar on the wall indicating June, 1992.
The phone is ringing. (Show the words “brrrringgg” extending from the phone to the wall and then bouncing off at an angle. Ringing off the wall, get it?)
Smaller panel, Jack poking his head out from under the pillow, reaching for the phone.
Next: He has the phone to his ear. Has not said hello yet, show words coming out of the receiver:
VINNIE: Jack you lazy bastard.
BAXTER: Vinnie? What?
VINNIE: LOOK AT THE CLOCK. It’s 10:30 and there’s been a huge explosion at the Amchem plant. Schwartz is gonna kick your ass.
Baxter looks at the clock and says “Crap.”
PAGE 2
Exterior of Today’s News newspaper building, a blocky, grimy kind of joint.
Next Panel:
Really hectic newsroom, very small. Show people running all over the place. Baxter and the photographer, Vinnie, are sitting on a bench.
Vinnie is 22, tall guy, big eyes, bushy hair, beard, wears John Lennon wire-frame glasses and a t-shirt that says “I’m a newsman. And your whiny, self-centered opinion would be?” (I really have a shirt like that.)
VINNIE: I feel stupid just sitting here.
BAXTER: Join the club.
Same scene on the bench as they talk. Behind them people are rushing all over.
VINNIE: We’re like the only ones not at Amchem.
BAXTER: No kidding.
VINNIE: We must really suck.
BAXTER: We’ve only been here a year. They don’t trust us.
VINNIE: That and we both overslept. You were later than me.
BAXTER: Baxter stands Well, here’s where I save your sorry ass.</blockquote>
Next week: Does Jack save Vinnie’s sorry ass?
To be continued…
<center><img src="http://www.newsarama.com/sangiacomo/noweherman-logo2.jpg" width="500" height="156" border="0" hspace="2"></center>
Mike Sangiacomo, a freelance writer for Newsarama and other sources, was invited to share his experiences with pitching to Epic by Newsarama's editor, Matt Brady, in the interest of keeping readers well informed. Brady advises Newsarama readers that he is aware of the inherent conflict of interest presented by journalists working for a publisher they cover. Sangiacomo’s regular column Journey Into Comics has and will continue to be found in the Opinion/Editorial section of Newsarama. Brady has not, nor does he plan to pitch to Epic himself.
Two weeks ago before we were so rudely interrupted by real-time looks at artists involved in “Nowhere Man,” I was at a point where, basically, my whole concept of an invisible reporter who goes to Iraq and kills Saddam Hussein was dead in the water.
For those coming in really late, comic critic Mike San Giacomo, (me) responded to a challenge from Marvel to write a comic for the soon-to-be-relaunched Epic line.
My character, Nowhere Man, a newspaper reporter who can turn invisible, struck someone’s fancy at Marvel. Two weeks ago my third version of full scripts for issues one and two were in and Assistant Editor Stephanie Moore had some suggestions.
There was this wonderful episode of Fawlty Towers starring Monty Python alumnus John Cleese in which he responds to his wife’s demands by saying, “Yes dear, and would you like me to move the building a bit to the left?”
I use that line a lot.
I didn’t say it to Assistant Editor Stephanie Moore when she suggested I start my series with the origin of the character.
It would change the whole complexion of the story I wanted to tell. It would set everything on a new path. But her suggestion was not the worst thing I would hear. That came in another e-mail a few days later.
In it, she suggested that maybe I should consider taking on a writing partner.
Whoa.
A writing partner?
God, I must really suck.
What the heck ever made me think I could write a comic?
I gotta tell you kids, this hit like the Hulk.
No matter how nice it was made to sound, to me it read like this:
“My God you stink. What can we do to dissuade you from carrying on this charade any further? We were kidding when we offered you a book. It was a joke. Now go away and leave the writing to the pros.”
A writing partner would not have worked because I would have no idea what to tell him to do. To be honest, I was not clear on what the problem was. I mean, they liked the concept; they liked the dialogue, where was I going wrong?
The editorial direction was rather vague.
I wrote a quick note back to Stephanie which simply said I would take one more crack at the script over the weekend, writing it from scratch beginning at the beginning, with the character’s origin.
If she didn’t like it, I was gone. No hard feelings.
Hey, I gave it my best shot and if it didn’t work, so be it. But I would rise or fall on my own merits, not on someone else’s coattails.
By this time I had already told my family and friends that the comic was a “go.” I imagined how stupid I would feel letting them all know that it didn’t work out.
At least I would have my weekends free again.
A few hours later I noticed an e-mail message from Stephanie. I felt a little uneasy as I opened it, figuring it would be a kiss-off.
I was wrong.
It was short and simple, “Ok,” it said. “Give it a try.”
Well, that’s cool.
I drove from Cleveland to Detroit the next morning to work on a real-life story about a guy named Mr. Daddy who was popped for kidnapping a Cleveland teenager and forcing her to join his prostitution ring. Allegedly. The guy goes to trial next week.
The whole ride there, about 150 miles and change, I thought about amplifying the origin of Jack Baxter, the Invisible Man. I had a pretty solid origin story already, but I figured since I had to go back to the character’s beginning I might as well work on a whole story arc.
The plots percolated in the back of my brain while I sat in court taking notes as young women talked about life in “the life” at Mr. Daddy’s first court hearing. Funny how we can multi-task.
By the time I wrote the story and drove back home a day later, I had four whole issues all laid out in my head.
This adventure would take place before the current adventure and was pretty darn cool.
I closeted myself in my office and started to work on Friday night. By Saturday night, I had two full issues scripted and a trash can full of rejected print outs.
By Sunday evening I had a solid story synopsis for issue number #3 and #4. Heck, this one even had an honest-to-God super villain.
I was pretty darn proud of this puppy.
I printed it out and put it in an envelope. I’d mail it from work the next day.
Here are the first few pages:
<blockquote>A NEW BEGINNING:
NOWHERE MAN
PAGE ONE
Half-page
Scene opens in a man’s bachelor apartment.
Jack Baxter, 23, average height and weight, brown hair, is in bed. Sheets are a kid’s western motif, cowboys and Indians. On the wall is one of those hip-swinging Elvis clock; a framed charcoal drawing of a beautiful young woman, rows of books in a bookcase.
The place is a mess. There’s a half-open pizza box on the floor next to the bed. Clothes and shoes tossed all over the place. A woman’s bra is slung over a chair.
Jack’s alone in bed. He’s got a pillow over his head to keep out the bright summer sunlight streaming in through the curtainless windows.
There’s a phone next to his bed and a digital clock with large, red numbers reading 10:35.
Show a large calendar on the wall indicating June, 1992.
The phone is ringing. (Show the words “brrrringgg” extending from the phone to the wall and then bouncing off at an angle. Ringing off the wall, get it?)
Smaller panel, Jack poking his head out from under the pillow, reaching for the phone.
Next: He has the phone to his ear. Has not said hello yet, show words coming out of the receiver:
VINNIE: Jack you lazy bastard.
BAXTER: Vinnie? What?
VINNIE: LOOK AT THE CLOCK. It’s 10:30 and there’s been a huge explosion at the Amchem plant. Schwartz is gonna kick your ass.
Baxter looks at the clock and says “Crap.”
PAGE 2
Exterior of Today’s News newspaper building, a blocky, grimy kind of joint.
Next Panel:
Really hectic newsroom, very small. Show people running all over the place. Baxter and the photographer, Vinnie, are sitting on a bench.
Vinnie is 22, tall guy, big eyes, bushy hair, beard, wears John Lennon wire-frame glasses and a t-shirt that says “I’m a newsman. And your whiny, self-centered opinion would be?” (I really have a shirt like that.)
VINNIE: I feel stupid just sitting here.
BAXTER: Join the club.
Same scene on the bench as they talk. Behind them people are rushing all over.
VINNIE: We’re like the only ones not at Amchem.
BAXTER: No kidding.
VINNIE: We must really suck.
BAXTER: We’ve only been here a year. They don’t trust us.
VINNIE: That and we both overslept. You were later than me.
BAXTER: Baxter stands Well, here’s where I save your sorry ass.</blockquote>
Next week: Does Jack save Vinnie’s sorry ass?
To be continued…
<center><img src="http://www.newsarama.com/sangiacomo/noweherman-logo2.jpg" width="500" height="156" border="0" hspace="2"></center>
Mike Sangiacomo, a freelance writer for Newsarama and other sources, was invited to share his experiences with pitching to Epic by Newsarama's editor, Matt Brady, in the interest of keeping readers well informed. Brady advises Newsarama readers that he is aware of the inherent conflict of interest presented by journalists working for a publisher they cover. Sangiacomo’s regular column Journey Into Comics has and will continue to be found in the Opinion/Editorial section of Newsarama. Brady has not, nor does he plan to pitch to Epic himself.