Editorial Intrusion #1

Mr Read, true to his word, delivered the first 20 pages of the new 'Eldritch Kid' script to me earlier this week and, as one of his Dark Masters (as he prefers to call me - I'm sure it is a term of respect), I was somewhat buoyed by its receipt. You see, from my experience with comic creators, it can be quite rare for them to meet a deadline, even when that deadline has been self-determined. Christian said he would get it to me, and he did. Dedicated and professional. That is surely how to win a Ledger.

But enough of that.

As per the intention of this site, I'm going to give a brief commentary on the script-to-date and my editorial response to it. Prior to receiving this script draft, all I had read was a 3-paragraph synopsis of the storyline.

In first draft, the script was promising at first read-through. There was sufficient exposition from early character dynamics to introduce the Kid to new audiences without spoon-feeding or boring those already familiar with his slight character flaws into submission. The supporting cast was starting to shape up nicely from interplay among themselves, although there was still something of an anticlimax that was working to undermine the overall narrative progression. Yet without a solid grasp of where the characters and story were headed, this anticlimax could simply be a subtle manoeuvre to unveil aspects of the central 'villain of the piece' over time, to wring out the sordid details and use his lack of a moral centre as a mirror to our anti-hero, the Kid. How to be sure? Ask the writer.

Notes made, sent to Christian, yet to hear back.

Artists, lazy, lazy artists.

Well, Mr Burns was supposed to have some art up on the blog by now but apparently drawing is hard or something like that. 'I'll get to it man but I'm busy', he opined on the phone today. 'I was doing a phone interview about EK2.'

Let me tell you something, aspiring comic writers, you don't win Ledger Awards with that kind of attitude! The only thing to do in a situation like that is harangue! Whine! Whinge! Threaten! Tell them that they are demeaning your genius with their refusal to drop everything and assuage your ego by drawing! That's what I did and...

...I'm refining the technique.

So just a quick one tonight.

There's two dreams involved with the creation of The Eldritch Kid and they seem to have come to me to entirely strip me of all notions of research and pondering.

A mate of mine told me about a dream he had. He was sitting down to play a game of Dungeons and Dragons with the members of the band, 'The Highwaymen'. The only thing he really remembered was Kris Kristofferson saying 'Hell, I fucked a Cherokee. I should get to play the elf.'

It was, suffice to say, a memorable image to someone as enamoured of both being a giant nerd and country music as I am. (Bearing in mind that what I think of country and your average station programmer thinks may not significantly overlap...)

It clicked something in me. From ridiculous seeds, things grow. I'll get to what it sparked off in my mind another time but the seeds for that melding of fantasy and gritty reality were perhaps planted with that foolish dream.

Then I had a dream. It was the first six pages of Eldritch Kid. Fully formed, a prodigy, an Athena, ready and complete in all ways. The characters, the lines, the scenes. I awoke knowing the name of the character, his visual, how I wanted to introduce him but also the Kid had a friend. That's Ten Shoes Dancing, the Oxford educated highbrow Lakota shaman. He's not in EK 2 so I won't go into him too much here.

But that was it. All my plan and inventing, thinking and cooking up and bang, the damn subconscious mind steals your thunder.

I felt almost cheated until I realised something... I really, really loved the story that played out in my dreams. I suppose it is immodest or vulgar or something but, well, I really fell in love with the whole idea of the Eldritch Kid that early afternoon. I wanted to know more about him, to get to know him. Possibly buy him breakfast and get an apartment with him from the sounds of that last paragraph.

But that was it. The Eldritch Kid was ready to go. I had a proposal and now all I needed was an artist. There was only one man to turn too. A young punk I had made the acquaintance of at a comic convention who had a brilliant portfolio but, more importantly, great music.

Next issue: Enter! Burns!