I've got to find a decent job.
- Hobie Brown as written by Scott Lobdell, "X's and O's"
"On the Prowl"
I checked my e-mail from Marvel, and while it did not say "This Prowler stuff is brilliant! Let's get you a series!" it didn't say, "You suck. Stop e-mailing me" either. And at this point, all I'm really trying to do is avoid receiving any "You suck" e-mails from, like, anybody.
It looks like I'm pitching another Spider-Man Unlimited story, but this time, one with my man Hobie Brown in the spotlight. This means I'll have to truncate a twenty-four page script into 11 pages, but -- and I'm sure you've noticed this -- I've always tended to write a lot of fluff, so it's eminently doable should I get tapped on the shoulder by the sticky figure of fate. (The hell are you talking about?)
It looks like this might be what I'm going to be doing for a while... pitching stories over and over and hoping something sticks eventually. How cool is that? Seriously. I thought it'd take me three or four years to get to this point, and that was assuming I'd get bit of good luck (which has never been a safe assumption on my part, until, like, now apparantly). I mean, I basically packed up my bags and moved to Jersey to become a comic book writer (which is weird to actually think about), and I got half a foot in the door of the House of Ideas in under six months.
Fortune favors the brave. And sometimes she just slings it around like a skank.
Here's the truly scary thing though: at this point, it's all up to me. I will succeed or fail based on the strength of my skills and dogged persistance. I'll never be able to claim that I didn't get my shot, 'cause here it is. It's a strange thing to have to acknowledge that you're responsible for your own future. It probably shouldn't be, but I know people who can't seem to acknowledge that they're responsible for the things they do or say, let alone their destiny. Responsibility sucks. It's like Seinfeld said... When things go wrong the first question someone asks is "Who's responsible for this?" But you know what? With great responsibility comes great power (and of course, vice versa.)
...
I've been looking at apartments in Hell's Kitchen this morning. I don't know. Maybe I've been wrong about a few things over the last few blog entries. Perhaps I've found the place for me afterall. And I think that sense of peace and contentment's starting to wash over these old bones...
NEXT:
"The Restaurant at the End of the District"
- Hobie Brown as written by Scott Lobdell, "X's and O's"
"On the Prowl"
I checked my e-mail from Marvel, and while it did not say "This Prowler stuff is brilliant! Let's get you a series!" it didn't say, "You suck. Stop e-mailing me" either. And at this point, all I'm really trying to do is avoid receiving any "You suck" e-mails from, like, anybody.
It looks like I'm pitching another Spider-Man Unlimited story, but this time, one with my man Hobie Brown in the spotlight. This means I'll have to truncate a twenty-four page script into 11 pages, but -- and I'm sure you've noticed this -- I've always tended to write a lot of fluff, so it's eminently doable should I get tapped on the shoulder by the sticky figure of fate. (The hell are you talking about?)
It looks like this might be what I'm going to be doing for a while... pitching stories over and over and hoping something sticks eventually. How cool is that? Seriously. I thought it'd take me three or four years to get to this point, and that was assuming I'd get bit of good luck (which has never been a safe assumption on my part, until, like, now apparantly). I mean, I basically packed up my bags and moved to Jersey to become a comic book writer (which is weird to actually think about), and I got half a foot in the door of the House of Ideas in under six months.
Fortune favors the brave. And sometimes she just slings it around like a skank.
Here's the truly scary thing though: at this point, it's all up to me. I will succeed or fail based on the strength of my skills and dogged persistance. I'll never be able to claim that I didn't get my shot, 'cause here it is. It's a strange thing to have to acknowledge that you're responsible for your own future. It probably shouldn't be, but I know people who can't seem to acknowledge that they're responsible for the things they do or say, let alone their destiny. Responsibility sucks. It's like Seinfeld said... When things go wrong the first question someone asks is "Who's responsible for this?" But you know what? With great responsibility comes great power (and of course, vice versa.)
...
I've been looking at apartments in Hell's Kitchen this morning. I don't know. Maybe I've been wrong about a few things over the last few blog entries. Perhaps I've found the place for me afterall. And I think that sense of peace and contentment's starting to wash over these old bones...
NEXT:
"The Restaurant at the End of the District"
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