JanerBlog

Guess What I Have

Seriously, the whole package is so gorgeous, from the hand-stamped wax-sealed stacks pass to the bookplates to the Spinoza patch to the adorable Luther sketch (Dylan, how is your hand still capable of gripping a pen so soon after your release party?!) to the gorgeous original watercolor of Ariana which is so getting framed and going up on my studio wall next to the last page of Speed's Finder:Talisman. I am thrilled. Best hundred bucks I've spent in a long time.

Congratulations, Dylan, for giving flight to your fancy, and in such stellar style. May there be many more.

I've got the Blues!

Carol Burrell's got SPQR Blues going again! YAAAAY! Seriously, if you haven't already been reading this wonderful webcomic, go do so now. You've got a little time to catch up before the new strips start.

Right now, if you head on over to her website, you can see the pinup I did for her last spring. it was a whole lot of fun to do, and it let me do all sorts of fun research into Herculaneum and the surrounding area.

Here it is, just for extra coverage:

Here're the locations I used for the triptych's backgrounds:

• Mus: House of the Genius in Herculaneum


• Felix: House of Mars and Venus in Pompeii


• Spendusa, with her and Felix's daughter: Woman with a shield Villa of P. Fannius Synistor at Boscoreale

Uniques Tales #4!

Paul and I are featured in the newest issue of The Uniques Tales by fellow Michigan self-publishers Adam Withers and Comfort Love. Go check them out! My pinup is of The Ambassador, and is colored by Frank Rapoza, who did a really great job.

Thanks to Adam and Comfort for this wonderful opportunity to play in their sandbox. I had a lot of fun doing research and sketches for The Ambassador, and I think she's a heck of a character -- what if Wonder Woman were a progressive Iranian Muslimah, and spent the majority of her time working for diplomacy rather than punching people in the face? Now that's my kind of superhero!

Community gardening!

So this last Saturday, I spent all day volunteering at two separate community gardens. The first is down at the end of my street in the Vine Neighborhood, and I was really thrilled to see all the folks who stopped by to help. I got to meet neighbors I've lived near for literal years and never met. I'm really looking forward to getting the majority of the plants in the ground over the next few weeks -- it seems like a really dedicated enthusiastic bunch, and I'm sure I'll have plenty of new friends afterwards. The Vine Neighborhood really needs more stuff like this to get us all out of our houses and interacting -- it's way too easy for us to just go to work and come home and never talk to one another. (On a side note, Paul and I have really been enjoying how many folks we've been meeting lately as we all use the park across the street to exercise our dogs. It's good times!)

The second place I worked was at Peace House -- and just like this awesome workday last year about a hundred local volunteers showed up from various churches, colleges and high schools. All the neighborhood kids volunteered too -- and just like last year, most of them worked harder than the high schoolers, who seemed to prefer leaning on their shovels rather than using them. We built four enormous new raised beds and shoveled a dumptruck's worth of compost into them, and added a huge sandbox to the playground. Peace House also just got some really good news -- they received a grant to put in a fruit orchard of 18 dwarf trees! Soon they'll have apples, pears, peaches and cherries to compliment their strawberries, blueberries and raspberries. I'm trying to convince them to put a grape arbor in, too.

Yay for community!

Daisy May Erlewine

Been listening to "Daisy" May Erlewine's song "We Are" from her album Mother Moon on loud repeat today because it's something I really need to hear, over and over and over again.

Oh my liar, don't you be so sad
Know you've got the power of healing in your hands
And oh my sweet boy don't you dare give up
Know that you are more than good enough

The way you are, you are, just the way you are,
The way you are you are, just the way you are

And oh my brother don't give up on the world
Know you cant seek shelter outside of yourself
And oh my sister don't you get so low
Build a home within ya, take it with you when you go

Wherever you go there you are, you are, you are, you are
Wherever you go there you are, you are, you are, you are

And oh my people don't you judge a face,
Know that god is with us no matter his name
And oh witness please forgive us for everything we've done
For all the shame inside us is hurting everyone

Everywhere we are, we are, we are, we are, we are
Everywhere we are, we are, we are, we are, we are

And oh my friend don't you get all bent
You have got the mixture for your medicine
And oh my lover don't you dare get scared
For if there's a love within us then love is everywhere

Everywhere we are we are we are we are
Everywhere we are we are we are we are

She's got a brand new record out on Earthworks music, starring a bunch of great local musicians (like everyone's favorite drummer, Mike Shimmin) -- and it's also mixed by our next-door neighbor, the incredibly talented Ian Gorman. You can pick May's stuff up from Fox on a Hill Records. Her music is just plain wonderful, whether she's recording with Seth Bernard or solo. Do yourself a favor and go check her out post-haste.

Pam commands, so mote it be.

Pam Noles commands that you listen to this BBC Radio play about The Fisk Jubilee Singers, which means you should, because Pam is awesome.

The first time she ever pointed me at this story, the first thing I could think of was what a great comic it'd make. Now, whoooo do we know who already has an encyclopedic knowledge of the story, a mighty love for comics, and is known to be a good (and published!) writer in her own right? *whistles innocently, stares pointedly in the direction of LA*

Sugarloaves

Went kayaking again tonight, out at the Sugarloaf Lakes south of town. I went out with my new friend R, who I met through one of the pool sessions and who's a great paddling buddy. There aren't many other women to whom I can say -- without a trace of irony -- "Hey! I just found out about this really awesome swamp nearby! Wanna go check it out?" and have her say "Awesome! Let's go tonight!"

So we had a great couple of hours on a glass-still lake. The Sugarloaves are a treat to paddle because they're so clear and shallow; the water's as transparent as air. We saw some wildlife I've never seen before: an American Bittern and a huge beaver. I've only seen live beavers one other time, and that was in Kitchener, Ontario, and they were surrounded by birch trees they'd gnawed down to make their lodges and dam -- so I was really surprised to see one trucking along in the swamp, far from any trees. At first we thought it was just an enormous muskrat, but then it slapped its huge tail on the water as it submerged. It must have weighed at least thirty pounds, and made quite a wake as it swam away.

While we were in one of the shallow, hidden cattail coves we surprised an enormous snapping turtle. He hunkered down under the water, pressing his huge shell -- the size of a chair seat -- into the mud. Heading into the narrow passage, I saw the same mama Canada goose I'd spotted the last time I was out, her long neck snaked protectively over her nest in the exact same position I'd seen her in two weeks ago.

We also found a noodly little passage that went nowhere but was fun to navigate -- by the end R had taken her paddle apart and was poling her boat like a gondolier, and I was pulling myself along by grabbing handfuls of dead cattail stalks on either side. On the way back we rounded a turn and surprised a pair of sandhill cranes standing on a little patch of ground not fifteen feet from us, all toasted-cheddar-brown in their spring plumage. We got really quiet and paddled carefully, and they stayed where they were, arching their long necks and cocking their lipstick-red heads at us until we moved out of sight.

We pulled in as dark was gathering, under the light of a half-moon so bright it cast shadows. What a great way to spend the day.

Worth the Weight

I've largely stopped talking about weight, and my issues with my weight, because a) nobody likes hearing people go on about their diets, and b) because I really don't like all the self-loathing that typically accompanies a round of fat talk.

This last month, though, I've got a couple of wake-up calls, the first from a health assessment, and the second from a friend. The health assessment, without getting into details was ... suboptimal. The friend's suggestion, on the other hand, was much more helpful.

But let me back up.

I've always, always had an aversion to writing down what I eat, because I hate all the accompanying self-loathing (see above). I hate what that kind of journaling does to me; I'm such a Type-B personality, and forcing myself to keep tabs on every calorie pushes my obsessive buttons in very uncomfortable ways. I tried to come up with a good metaphor, and finally said today that it's like stalking yourself. "Girl in apartment 2a ate breakfast alone. She had a single cup of Wheaties, a half-cup of skim milk, and an eight-ounce glass of organic orange juice. Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach."

So back to my friend's suggestion: that I use the free website, The Daily Burn. It allows you to log your intake and exercise, then spits out nice little charts and graphs to show your progress, and lets you know how far over or under you are on your daily goals. It feels like blogging, like filling out a spreadsheet, and the extra degree of separation from a notebook full of cribbed shorthand about portions and points makes the process more about the data and less about the self-judgement. This is literally the first positive experience I've ever had in keeping track of what I eat. Pretty much every food (and most prepackaged stuff, including all the foofy hippie brands I eat) and exercise (precor machine, kayaking, road biking) is already in the catalog, so logging your progress is a snap. I'm even finding myself overestimating portions just to be on the safe side, which is something I never did before.

Seeing a week's worth of food intake laid out as data allows me to see what I should and shouldn't be doing, where I need to improve, and what I can keep getting away with. I'm not starving, I'm not obsessing over portions or calories, and best of all I'm not having to restrict myself to a bunch of stupid rules. And my pants are already fitting better, so it must be working.

So -- thanks, Kind Friend, for the suggestion. It really helped.

New Pinup!

Over the last couple of months, I've been doing some pinups for folks. I don't want to share them all quite yet because I want the giftees to have the right of first post. Ironically, the last one gifted is the first one to make it out on the intertubes, so I finally get to post it!

Guy Davis is hard at work on the third graphic novel of his creator-owned series The Marquis, so I made him a pinup to celebrate.

(click to embiggen)

I can hardly wait to see what fresh new horrors crawl out of his wonderfully twisted brain. If you're not familiar with Guy's personal work, you may know him from his long run on Mike Mignola's BPRD from Dark Horse. A whole bunch of other folks are doing really gorgeous Marquis pinups, and Guy's collecting them on a special blog. Go have a look!

I should have linked to this sooner, but --

-- Kudos to Pam Noles for this post, responding to an interview with Kevin O'Neill. I realize the possible hypocrisy of me criticizing Kevin O'Neill in this instance, given that my last story also contains a racist doll, but at least I don't deny that when the automaton was created it definitely had racist overtones, regardless of how many other ways it was used or how else it contributed to scientific discovery.

It also bears mentioning that in her earlier essays, Pam never said "Don't use the Golliwog." What she did say is this:

As I've said before, writing is research, empathy and effort; anything in the world is on deck as potential source material. But if you're going to take on something as culturally loaded as blackface or minstrelsy, a footnote needs to be included - you've got to have your A-Game on. Like dealing with a select few other extremely thorny topics, this is not something one should go into without awareness. If you are a current day person choosing to toy with this construct, going into it with scant knowledge of or ignoring the big picture, is so unwise. If you choose to work with this trope willfully blind and you screw it up, you deserve whatever level of invective comes your way. You must proceed with awareness.

And this is why I love Pam's big beautiful brain so much.

I know I've linked to it before, but it's worth the redundancy: go read her full series of essays on the Golliwog in the Black Dossier.

Kalamazoo Peace House

Speaking of overdue blogging, here's a report that ran back in December about Kalamazoo's Peace House, a place where I occasionally volunteer (though nowhere near enough; I have to get to work on fixing that...) and whose caregivers are friends of mine. These folks are the absolute real deal, and it's a blessing and a privilege to have them in my life.

Smile!

Raina Telgemeier has a brand-new graphic novel out this week, called Smile!

Raina and her husband Dave Roman are such wonderfully awesome people, and Paul and I owe them both for our Avatar: The Last Airbender obsession. Further proof of their awesomeness is found in this awesome trailer they made for the book:

Go! Buy! You will not be disappointed.

ConFusion

I went to ConFusion yesterday, just the one day. the highlight of the afternoon was getting the chance to speak with Peter S. Beagle for a short time while he was autographing. He had a chair set next to him, and each autograph-seeker would sit down, drinking in his soft storyteller's voice, best appreciated side-by-side rather than across a huckster's table.

He spoke touchingly of his heroes, some of whom I'd heard of (Harriet Tubman, King Christian X of Denmark and Eleanor Roosevelt), and some I hadn't (Hugh Thompson, Jr. [Beagle wrote Thompson a letter, and when an editor wanted to include it in a book about Thompson, Beagle had the opportunity to speak to Thompson on the phone]). I'd just purchased his first book, and while I was waiting in line, I'd read the first chapter, which began with a raven fetching a ring of baloney for a man named Mr. Rebeck. Seeing both together on the same page, I couldn't resist asking if Mr. Rebeck was named after the man with the sausage-machine, and Mr. Beagle said the version he'd learned was about Mr. Dunderbeck, but that he'd heard it sung both ways. He sang a verse for good measure, then told me about his dear aunt who'd taught him the song, how much he loved her as a boy, and how well and beautifully she lived her life.

I ceded the chair to another friend who had a writing question for Mr. Beagle, but I left feeling that despite its brevity, I'd had a very intimate and deep conversation with an artist with a deeply kind and loving soul -- and also that everyone else who sat in that chair would say the same thing. When I related the story to John Scalzi later that evening, he said, "Ah yes. And that's the magic of Peter Beagle."

And so it was.

On a vaguely similar note, Virus sent me this lovely story about a man searching for Kurt Vonnegut.

Help Pam Noles support the Interstitial Arts Foundation

Work's been kicking my butt lately, so I'm a day or two late on posting this, but this needs to get signal boosted:

Pam Noles (who is Black, Geek, and Fine With That), has quilted the most amazing wrap skirt and is donating it to an auction for the Interstitial Arts Foundation:

In addition to being gorgeous and twirly and a genuine hand-sewn work of art, it's also inspired by a short story, "Berry Moon," by Camilla Bruce. Those of you who know me well know how much I dearly love cross-pollination like this. Songs written for poems written for artwork based on photographs. Fabric Arts made for short stories. Dancing about architecture. You know the stuff: It's wonderful, and inspiring, and it makes the world a much better place.

As if all that weren't enough, Pam will custom-size the wrap-skirt's buttonhole for you.

So what're you waiting for? Go forth and Bid! It's for a good cause!

Signal Boost: Project POORCRAFT

Hey, everybody: my buddy C. Spike Trotman is starting up a brand-new project and needs your help! It's called Project: POORCRAFT and it's going to be a guide to living frugally in urban and suburban areas, told in comics format. But don't take my word for it; head on over to Kickstarter and hear Spike tell you about it herself.

Tell it, Joey

Joey Manley, ladies and gentlemen.

I don't even consider myself a webcomicker. I'm a graphic novelist who publishes her betaware on the web.

Or used to. And hopes to do so again soon.

Mental war for superiority

I met Haddayr Copley-Woods at WisCon this year. She and I hit it off like nobody's business.

Her blogpost today reminded me why, all over again. 100% pure awesomeness.

SPX 09 Con Report

Home from SPX and soooo tired... but if I don't do the con report tonight, I'll never get to it, so here goes:

Had an absolutely fantastic time, as always. SPX has always been my hands-down favorite show, and this year was no exception. I got the chance to hang out with old friends and new, sell a metric butt-ton of steampunk jewelry (and even a few books, too!) and talk shop with a bunch of creators. I'm ashamed to say that I didn't vote in this year's Ignatz awards because I hadn't read enough of the participants (bad artist!), so I'm hoping to do better next year. This was also one of the best shows I can remember for sheer quality of available books -- I was blown away by the offerings, of both traditionally-published graphic novels and gorgeous, innovative, risk-taking minicomics, and I bought more stuff this year than I can ever remember buying before.

There was one other fun thing that happened -- Paul and I marked our 5th anniversary on Saturday. What better way to celebrate than by selling comics and surrounding ourselves with fans and friends alike? Thanks to everyone who stopped by to wish us well.

I didn't take a lot of photos, but here're a baker's dozen to look through. The captions will have to suffice for the remainder of my con report, as I am mighty tired.

Shoutout for Steve Leiber and Sara Ryan

Steve Leiber has some incredibly good news lately... he and Jeff Parker's long-awaited spelunking comic (yep, a comic about cave exploration and rescue) is here:

It's soliciting in Diamond's July PREVIEWS to ship in September, so head on down to your LCS and pre-order yours today!

His other good news involves a movie based on a graphic novel he illustrated a while back called Whiteout. After several delays, it looks like it may be nearing theatrical release. The book is wonderful -- can't speak for the movie yet because the movie execs yanked the trailer before I could watch it. But you're going to need to read the book before you see the movie, right? right?

See, there's a reason why I'm telling you to buy Steve's books. It's because in addition to his really good news, he also had some stupendous bad news today:

My wife and I were just burgled. They stole our laptops, so we have no computers at home anymore, and we've got several days ahead of us of running around dealing with police, insurance, checking to make sure backups work, etc. This means that all the time at home I'd planned to spend doing promotion is gone, as are the machines I'd planned to it with.

Lots of folks have asked "what can I do to help?" The answer, if you have a comics audience, is blog or tweet something about the book. Send them to the site, or this specific post, or just tell them that Parker and I have a new Image book coming out. Your RTs and message board notes can make a big difference.

This sucks extra bad because Steve and his wife Sara Ryan are two of the nicest, kindest people you could ask to know. Sara's also a writer and has some really wonderful books out. So you should go and buy her books, too.

Hope your luck turns back to all-good soon, Steve and Sara!

Comicsqueeeeeee!

It's new comic book day! Or rather, it's new comic book day, a day late, for Paul and I because we were both sick as dogs yesterday and have spent all but about ten hours out of the last seventy-two sound asleep, getting over the con-crud.

But! Today brings two squee-worthy events!

First, the pinup I did for Dave Petersen a few years back is featured in this month's issue of Mouse Guard! I'm doubly excited, because this is actually the second time the pinup's been featured in the comic, though you may not have seen it the first time, because it was being all stealthy and stuff. Thanks so much, Dave! I'm really flattered.

Second, Jeremy Bastian's long-overdue Cursed Pirate Girl is finally here! This is another one of those comics about which I just cannot shut up (oh, those poor souls who remember my Long Tail Kitty fixation), but with good reason -- it's brilliant, and gorgeous, and weird, and wonderful. After having finally read the first issue, it turns out that my blatherings are understated, if anything. Seriously, guys. Go get this book right now. Jeremy's illustrations are so tight and bizarre and fun and old-school. Judging by the first issue, the story looks like it's going to stand up to the art, too.

So yes! Much squee from me.

Nice moment from Wednesday's session

We had a visiting musician drop by the O'Duffy's session this week, a young man from Spain who plays whistle like nobody's business. He visited twice before, last winter, and impressed the heck out of us because he knew pretty much every tune we threw at him, and played a bunch of new exciting stuff as well.

This time, Manuel brought his practice set of uilleann pipes (minus the drones) and though he said he hadn't been at it long, he played amazingly well and brought a new level of lift and draíocht to the session, one that can't really be described unless you've seen it happen.

Toward the end, he set out on a blistering set of whistle reels, unaccompanied except for Aaron's bodhrán, and all the other musicians were just listening, and we all started to pat our feet in perfect time, and it was all so good and right and enjoyable that I don't know how else to describe it.

I don't know why that moment struck me so; it must be because when you listen to a group of people respond to live music, they rarely do so in sync and sympathy with the music. It's about the audience, and the audience's feelings, not the musician's. This was a different kind of moment, one where the other musicians, as listeners, were one with the music even though they weren't playing. Participating, and yet not, propelling the player forward without transposing their own egos.

I wonder if that's not a lot closer to the way music used to be experienced, back when there was no television and radio, when the presence of a wandering minstrel was cause for celebration, cause for stopping your everyday life just to listen.