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Comics are a hotbed of creativity
I made the plunge into comics after realizing I had read less than a dozen in my life. Thanks Amber, Tim, and John for helping me pick out some of my first comics the other day. I was 11 or 12. I had forgotten I was such a PC-basher, and such an endering speller. Here’s “Fred’s Adventure” my frist comic in full screen 3-page glory. Comic geeks, what do you call the comic Oscar? Another question for comic geeks: Am I a suppressed comic geek if I read like two, created a few, then forgot about the magic? You think twitter forces you to be pithy? Try saturating a story into text bubbles. Original stories thrive, and when it’s good… innovation at the intersection of visual and written story collide brilliantly. I’ve been going through “Y: The Last Man” book by book at Nashville’s Great Escape, and leaving the story trail for my roommate, who is also hooked. As I walked to be inspired by the next installment of Y today, I knew the beautiful ending was that my level of commitment was being reciprocated with great story. Video edition of this post:
To commemorate my plunge, I’ve dug up the first comic I wrote.
One night this week I skipped beer with friends, for reading the next page in my comic book. Whatever—I’ll call it a phase.
We commit ourselves to well-crafted art. It’s why we NEED to see the next episode of Lost, or get Bryan Adams’ new CD.
In the age of Kindle and the decline of newspaper readership, can you imagine physically walking somewhere so you have the next installment of a story?
I’m having a love affair and I’m-loving-every-new-second-of-it.
