You know you’re getting older when the documentaries are about things you witnessed firsthand.

Hats off to HBO Sports for their new documentary Magic & Bird: A Courtship of Rivals, which recounts the careers of 1980s basketball legends Earvin “Magic” Johnson and Larry Bird.  In my opinion, this was the heyday of pro basketball as a team sport, and it soon gave way to the points-driven, solo-performance era ushered in by Michael, handed down to Shaquille, and now ruled by Kobe and LeBron.

In the great debate of the time—Are you a Laker or a Celtic?—I came down firmly on the side of Bird and Celtics.  Growing up in South Florida during the ’80s, the only professional game in town was the NFL’s Miami Dolphins.  The Miami Heat didn’t get added to the NBA until 1988, so up to that point you had to look elsewhere for a basketball team to cheer for.  The Celtics were a natural fit for me, the majority of my family still living in Providence, Rhode Island, less than an hour from Boston Garden.  So Magic and the Lakers were to be despised for their flashy, West Coast, razzle-dazzle style of play, a polar opposite of the barebones, blue-collar, fundamental Celtic approach (though I chose the Lakers over the even less likable Detroit Pistons, whose style was driven by whiny, cheap-shot artists Bill Laimbeer and Dennis Rodman).  As a dedicated basketball enthusiast—when I wasn’t in school or at work, I was on the court—the rivalry was a huge part of my consciousness.  I remember the Magic vs. Bird ads for Converse Weapon shoes, as well as a particularly jarring Sports Illustrated cover story where they used Photoshop (or whatever passed for Photoshop at the time) to put Bird in Laker gold and Magic in Celtic green, then surmised what the world would’ve been like had they been drafted accordingly.  Sacrilege.

The HBO documentary does a stellar job of portraying the Magic/Bird dichotomy as I remember it, but it also reveals something I hadn’t previously been aware of: the close bond of friendship that the years as bitter rivals forged between the two men.  Throughout their careers they came to depend on each other’s existence as the yardsticks by which they judged themselves, Bird checking the box score every morning to see Magic’s stats from the evening before, and Magic using Bird’s Rookie of the Year and MVP trophies to fuel his own ambition.  When Magic was forced to retire after testing HIV positive in 1991, the game lost all meaning for Bird, who soon retired himself.

I suddenly find myself wishing today’s NBA was more like the league of my youth, when players stayed with a single franchise throughout their careers, forging team identities and heated rivalries that endured.  When players played for their teams, not for themselves.  I’ve tried to watch today’s game, but every time LeBron tosses his powder in the air, I can’t reach for the remote fast enough.

Who knew a 36-year-old could be so fogeyish?

Sneaky Peeking: The Lightning Thief

I’ve been under strict secrecy until now, but one of the projects I’ve been working on is a graphic novel adaptation of the bestselling book The Lightning Thief, the first installment in the 5-part Percy Jackson & The Olympians series by Rick Riordan (the feature film adaptation of the same book is in theatres now).  I’ve already turned in the completed script, and Hungarian artist Attila Futaki is about a third of the way through the art.  The adaptation will also feature colors by José Villarrubia, so this one will be very easy on the eyes.

Attila posted the above page from Percy’s battle with the Minotaur on his website, along with a recent interview he did with a Hungarian outlet.  These are the first concrete images and details to be made public about the project, and more will be forthcoming as they are permitted.

Thanks are owed to Top Shelf who, had they not footed the bill for me to make a last-minute appearance at last year’s New York Comic Con, I would never have been in the room to meet Christian Trimmer, the editor at Hyperion who is shepherding the adaptation.  So much of my career has come down to being in the right place at the right time.  Many thanks to Christian as well for bringing me aboard, and especially to Rick for entrusting me with his baby.

“We ask you to be patient while these essentials are worked out.”

Space travel has been in the news a lot lately.  We’ll be saying goodbye to NASA’s space shuttle program later this year (a sad event for this former resident of the Space Coast), and now there is a proposal to cancel development of the Ares I rocket, the system slated to replace the shuttle and, ultimately, return Americans to the moon.  The new plan (as I understand it) will be for NASA to instead contract private companies to ferry our astronauts into space, freeing up funding for the agency to pursue loftier endeavors.  Not a bad idea in theory, but canceling our current mode of space transport—as well as future modes already under development—before another is in place will mean that, for the first time since John Glenn blasted off 48 years ago, the United States won’t have a vehicle for putting a man in orbit.  It’s a little too cart-before-the-horse for me.  Sort of like this letter, mailed to my grandfather along with his membership card for Pan Am’s “First Moon Flights” Club:

The letter isn’t dated, so I can’t be sure when it was sent, but this Los Angeles Times article claims that Pan American World Airways launched its waitlist for moon flights in the 1960s (presumably in the wake of Apollo 11).  The illustrations on the membership card feel like the ’60s, so that’s as good a guess as any.  Here’s the front:

and the back:

Conflicting statistics are reported online, but as far as I can tell the the club grew to over 90,000 members, Ronald Reagan and Walter Cronkite counted among them.  At #1,463, that makes Grandpa an early bird, and I smile at the thought of him boarding his space plane while The Great Communicator and The Most Trusted Man in America wait their turns on the tarmac.

JFK called the space program the “greatest adventure on which man has ever embarked.”  Who can blame James Montgomery, Vice President of Sales at Pan Am, for being exuberant about joining in the venture?  Despite the promise and entrepreneurial spirit of his letter, though, Pan Am went bankrupt in 1991, and nearly two decades later we’re still without commercial space flights.  By year’s end, our astronauts will be standing in line with Grandpa, Ronnie, Walter and the rest of the 90,000, while other countries take command of the heavens. 

For how long?

(Addendum: My uncle reports that the envelope the membership card was mailed in is postmarked April 30, 1969, nearly three months prior to Apollo 11 and Armstrong’s small step.  I’m told by my mother and grandmother that Grandpa fired off his letter to Pan Am as soon as he heard about the club, so it couldn’t have been started too much earlier.)

What are they teaching these kids in school?

From last night’s College Championship edition of America’s Favorite Quiz Show^®, Jeopardy!:

The category was “Graphic Novels,” and The Surrogates shared the column with such titles as The Photographer and Maus.  Young James from Santa Clara University went on to win the evening’s contest, a victory that I like to think Brett Weldele and I contributed to.  An utterly false assumption, of course, but I like to think it anyway. 

It’s not as good as an appearance on Sesame Street (in my opinion, the epitome of pop-culture notoriety), but we all “got a charge out of it,” as Grandpa used to say.  On a less egocentric note, I find it significant that the graphic novel art form is now assumed to be so ubiquitous that it merits a series of five clues to be read by Alex Trebek, with not a one of them referencing anything published by Marvel or DC.

We’ve come a long way, Baby.

The Future Is Now (or it will be soon) Exhibit F (as in FAIL)

One of today’s headlines at CNN.com reads INVENTOR UNVEILS $7,000 TALKING SEX ROBOT.

I can’t decide which is my favorite quote from the piece:

a) “She doesn’t vacuum or cook, but she does almost everything else.”

or

b) “For an extra fee, [the inventor will] also record customizable dialogue and phrases for each client, which means Roxxxy could talk to you about NASCAR, say, or the intricacies of politics in the Middle East.”

You make the call.  Or you can read the article and pick a favorite of your own.

Oh, the humility!

Here’s the scene: I get home from Best Buy yesterday and install my new Blu-Ray compatible DVD player, purchased with the sole intention of watching myself on TV for a whopping 6½ minutes (see yesterday’s post).  I postpone my onscreen debut until my wife and kids are home, so we can all revel together in the wonder that is me.  The moment they walk through the door, I gather the family around me, and with remote in hand I power on the player.

My two-year-old begins screaming.

Poor child, I say to myself.  The screen is dark because the DVD is loading, and he doesn’t understand that in mere moments his beloved father will be awash in glorious 1080p HD. 

As expected, when at last I appear, a hush falls over him.  Yes, Son.  It is I, your father.  The face that brings you joy.  The calm voice that soothes you to sleep.  The keen intellect that earns the sustenance to make your belly round and your bones strong.    

He looks at me, looks back at the TV, and then looks at me again.

“No watch Daddy!  Watch Dora!”

I power off the player and turn on Nickelodeon as instructed.

Child: 1.  Ego: 0.

Surrogates DVD in Stores!

The Surrogates movie releases today, both on regular old DVD and Blu-Ray HD.  Both versions come with a smattering of bonus features, but exclusive to the Blu-Ray edition is a 6½-minute featurette (starring yours truly) titled “Breaking the Frame: A Graphic Novel Comes to Life.”  Touchstone’s press release describes the featurette as a visual exploration of the evolution of Surrogates from graphic novel to major motion picture from the earliest designs and sketches.  Last Friday, MTV’s Splash Page blog posted an exclusive clip:

I’m pleased to see SteepleJack have such a presence in the featurette, but also a bit confused because he is perhaps the most glaring example of an aspect of the graphic novel that did not come to life on the screen, his character having been omitted from the adaptation entirely. 

If anyone is looking for me (or, for that matter, my maternal grandmother) at 10:00 a.m. EST this morning, I’ll be at my local Best Buy purchasing my first Blu-Ray compatible DVD player, so I can watch myself for the entire 6½ minutes.  My self-absorption knows no bounds. 

Sneaky Peeking: Cover for The Homeland Directive

Top Shelf has unveiled the cover art for my forthcoming graphic novel The Homeland Directive (with artist Mike Huddleston):

The promotional copy reads as follows:

As a leading researcher at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Dr. Laura Regan is one of the world’s foremost authorities on viral and bacteriological study.  Having dedicated her career to halting the spread of infectious disease, she has always considered herself one of the good guys.  But when her research partner is murdered and Laura is blamed for the crime, she finds herself at the heart of a vast and deadly conspiracy.  Aided by three rogue federal agents who believe the government is behind the frame-up, Laura must evade law enforcement, mercenaries, and a team of cyber-detectives who know more about her life than she does—all while trying to expose a sinister plot that will impact the lives of every American.

Set in the Orwellian present, The Homeland Directive confronts one of the vital questions of our time:  In an era when technology can either doom or save us, is it possible for personal privacy and national security to coexist?

I finished the first draft of the book’s script in 2006, and the original intent was to publish it last year.  Due to the Surrogates film, however, it was replaced on Top Shelf’s schedule with Flesh and Bone, which we wanted to have on the shelf before the film’s release.  The Homeland Directive is one of four projects I’m currently working on, but I’m sworn to secrecy on the other three until otherwise notified.

Top Shelf lists the release date as September, but the overeager among you can pre-order a copy now and spend the next nine months staring into an empty mailbox.

(un)scripted: It ain’t over ’til it’s over.

Let’s just say I’m a persistent (some might say pathological) reviser.  For me, the most agonizing experience is when a book arrives fresh from the printer, I sit down to read it for the first time in completed form . . . and I notice a new crop of things about the story that I’d like to change.  I’m not alone in this writer’s hell: In his essay “Tennessee Williams: Someone to Laugh at the Squares With,” Gore Vidal recalls seeing Williams revise a story that had already seen print.  When Vidal asked why he was continuing to polish a published piece, Williams replied, “Well, obviously it’s not finished.”  Tennessee, I feel your pain.

The Surrogates was well into production (the third issue was in print, and the fourth was going to the printer) when it occurred to me that I wanted to rewrite the dialogue in one of the book’s pivotal scenes.  In the original draft of the script, SteepleJack’s motive for wanting to reboot society never sat well with me.  Here’s how the dialogue to Page 108, Panels 3-6 read at the time:

Panel 3.                            

HARVEY:  A SURROGATE WORLD?

WELCH:  THAT’S RIGHT.  AT VSI, OUR COMMITMENT HAS ALWAYS BEEN TO PROVIDE A SEAMLESS LIVING EXPERIENCE FOR EVERYONE.

Panel 4.

WELCH:  TO THAT END, WE’VE DEVELOPED A NEW SYSTEM OF MANUFACTURING THAT WILL NOT ONLY REDUCE THE PRODUCTION TIME PER UNIT, BUT MINIMIZE COSTS AS WELL.

Panel 5.

WELCH:  VSI ALREADY HAS A FOOTHOLD IN OTHER AFFLUENT COUNTRIES, BUT MORE AFFORDABLE MODELS AND THE CAPACITY TO MEET WITH INCREASED DEMAND WILL ALLOW US TO PENETRATE NEARLY ALL OF THE OVERSEAS MARKETS.

Panel 6.

WELCH:  THE NECESSARY OVERHAUL OF OUR PRODUCTION FACILITIES WILL BE COMPLETED IN TWO MONTHS.  INTERNATIONAL ORDERS ARE ALREADY POURING IN.

*yawn*  Besides being boring, there wasn’t enough was at stake—if nearly every adult in America is already operating a surrogate, then why would the sudden use of the technology in some faraway land push SteepleJack over the edge?

I was having dinner with my brother one night, telling him that I was feeling more than a little dejected that this key element of the book’s plot wasn’t pulling its narrative weight.  I’ve no idea how or where it came from, but suddenly it dawned on me that a much stronger motive would be the impending release of a line of surrogate units targeted specifically at kids.  I’d already laid the foundation for the change in the mock journalism article at the end of Chapter 3, which mentioned the murder of a homeless man by three surrogate-using teens. 

I emailed Brett Weldele a list of edits, and the changes were made just a few days before we sent the book to the printer:

With the addition of a few minor adjustments to the dialogue in Chapter 5, the fix was in.  The eleventh-hour revising ultimately led to the driving force behind Flesh and Bone and crystallized the overarching theme of the entire Surrogates trilogy: the impact of our technological choices on future generations.  Small number of words, big difference.

(“Tennessee Williams: Someone to Laugh at the Squares With” and countless other essays can be found in Vidal’s United States: Essays 1952-1992.  I highly recommend it.)

We are but drops of water in an endless sea of time.

Cousin Joe is the eldest of my generation in the family.  My paternal grandmother cared for all of us kids during the summer breaks from school, so we spent quite a lot of time together growing up.  Joe never lacked for new and interesting ways to pass the time.  He had me convinced at a tender young age that he was a close friend of Spider-Man—who would drop by my grandmother’s single-wide now and again—and I believed him wholeheartedly despite never seeing Joe and the webslinger in the same room together.  I remember another occasion when he drew elaborate control panels on poster board, which he taped to my grandmother’s TV tables and arranged around the living room, thereby transforming it into the bridge of the Enterprise.  As the eldest, the role of Captain Kirk was his birthright.  As the youngest, I filled the seat of Chekov (or maybe it was Sulu).  When we see each other these days, I have more hair on my chin than I did then, and Joe has less hair on his head, and the world couldn’t be stranger.

Unbeknownst to me until recently, Joe now channels his fascination with the Final Frontier into astral photography.  Whenever he gets the urge, he ventures from his Southern California home and out into the desert, where he points his telescope and camera at the heavens:

I asked Joe if his photos (which can be viewed at his online gallery) are the way things really look, and he answered that it depended on what I meant (Joe majored in philosophy and religion, so you’re rarely asking him the question that you think you are).  He told me they haven’t been digitally manipulated, so in that sense, yes, they are the way things really look.  But they are the way things really look now as seen from Earth, not the way things really look now at the sources.  The light traveled from each location for up to billions of years to reach Earth, so the photographs represent how things really looked at that long-ago moment in the universe’s history, a time before the existence of telescopes or humans or even the Earth itself.

How many sci-fi stories deal with the invention of elaborate machines that allow users to witness events that occurred before their lifetime?  With his simple explanation, Joe made me realize that to make such fictions a reality, all I need to do is step outside and gaze skyward.  If I’d majored in philosophy and religion, I’d probably go off on some tangent about the triviality of a single human lifespan—no matter what the accomplishments—in the grand scheme of space and time.  Thankfully I’m merely a writer of comics, so I have no such inclinations.