Speakeasies, Bootlegging and Stock Cars, baby.

Well, how-do, Strangers?

Welcome back to the best place on the interwebs to get the lowdown on Saturday the book. Think of it like a Speakeasy for book updates. Just say the password ("snootfull") to the ugly guy through the slot in the door and, after the briefest of patdowns to make sure you're not a copper, packing, or bringing in any outside food or drink, you'll be let right in. Just like TSA or Thanksgiving with Howard Hughes. 

This book is taking an extra long time to distill, I know. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that, once you've finally had a taste, you'll consider the wait worthwhile (and not immediately go blind from drinking a poisonous bootleg gin of a graphic novel). I think you'll find it a complex and full-bodied illustrated book, with subtle undertones of sarcasm, notes of cultural references, hints of humor, and very nutty. Also maybe oaky, 'cause it sounds classy to say "oaky".

If it's any consolation, I'm pretty much just waiting with you. Yeah, I'm doing stuff. I'm  not just sitting on my hands. Fer one, I'm still editing:

This:

To This:

(Ta-daa.)

Probably only about four or five pages left whats needs editing. On top of the editing, I'm also searching for agents and publishers. To date, I've contacted 20 different individuals (and still had only two responses).  Again, it's a slow, frustrating process. I'm not worried, though. Even if I never find anyone who's interested in publishing it, I'm not worried.

See, I've tried for decades to put all the ingredients of my fevered imagination into something I would be proud of and proud to share with other people. There were a lot of failed attempts. Some of them even exploded in my face. But Saturday is the one. It was the most fun I've ever had drawing. And I'm definitely excited to share it with you.

I'm not sure if this is the case, but here's the impression I get: The publishing world is busy, crazy, and constantly shifting around. But it's also a bit insular. And it mostly distributes only the brands of liquor it has developed through it's own processes. I'm some guy who's been laboring at the copper stills of my imagination in the backwoods for years and I'm asking them to sell something I know is good. But I'm just not sure they'll go for it. It might just be too unfamiliar. Too unconventional.

Again, maybe that's the case and maybe it ain't. But if it is, I have no problem carefully pouring the big batch into portions for individual consumption, putting those into my souped up bootlegging vehicle, and driving them over the state line to get them to you. Of course, that route is WAY tougher. It means I'll have to pony up the dough for printing (substantial), distribution, and promotion. But I'm still not afraid of that. But for now, I'm going to give the traditional route a little more time.

In the meantime, here's a song by Jim Croce called "Rapid Roy":

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1aUl9l1O7sE

("They say that he learned to race the stock car by runnin' shine outta Alabam,
   oh, the demolition derby and the figure eight is easy money in the bank
   compared to running from the man in Oklahoma City with a 500 gallon tank")

Cheers.

All American Rejections

Hello there!

Welcome to the post-holiday update of "Saturday" the book. If you're anything like me, you're currently sitting in the glazed over, half-lidded malaise induced by a powerful combination of holiday foods, beverages and cold medicines and desperately trying to remember how to do your job before Monday rolls around.

There's bound to be an arm's length list of obligations that was growing like mold in an unwashed lunchbox while we all tried to enjoy each others' company on a brief respite from employment. So why not add one more? Here's something to read. You're welcome.

Fortunately, there isn't a whole lot to share in order to bring you up to speed. Unfortunately, that doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to employ brevity to do so.  As far as the drawing of "Saturday" goes, I'm still working on edits.

Oh, look: Here are some now:

The editing process is picking up speed. After some initial heaving and straining, it's moving at a decent clip. Any day now it will get ahead of me, roll out of control down a steep embankment, and tear through some unsuspecting hamlet of unedited panels.

The search for an agent and publisher is going at a decidedly slower pace, however. Good news, though! I've received two, count 'em, TWO responses from agencies! They were both rejections, but they felt like victories to me. It means that my query letters are actually being received and (theoretically) read by someone instead of going out into the ether and dying like the sad pleas of a lonely kid talking into a tin-can and string phone with no one at the other end.

If it seems like a disheartening process, it is. If you think I'm even the slightest bit discouraged by it, I ain't. I often tell people it takes a healthy amount of stubborn and stupid to be a freelance illustrator. Well, the stubborn/stupid multi-tool I use for freelance illustration can also be employed in the search for an agent and publisher. It's like a Swiss Army knife. Along with the stubborn knife and the stupid screw driver, it also has a set of unrealistic hopes tweezers, an overly-optimistic toothpick that I lost years ago, and a bottle opener. I plan to use every single tool during this search. Particularly the bottle opener.

So fear not.

Cheers.

No one's in the kitchen with Dinah. No one's in the kitchen I know.

Hullo!

Welcome to the latest update of "Saturday" the book, scooped fresh out of the industrial-sized cafeteria warming tray of my imagination and glopped onto the mostly-clean, still-wet-from-the-dishwasher, tray of your mind.

Fortunately, your tray has a series of square partitions, or "food dams" to keep the different sections separate. Because, really, is there anything worse than having your creamed corn reach its gooey tentacles over and touch that other thing on your tray that you actually wanted to eat? Anyhoo, feel free to skip any part of this meal you like and move on to the part you're going to enjoy the most.

First course: the progress report: I'm just starting the edits on page 6. The previous page (page five for the mathematically challenged among you) needed some fairly extensive edits. A little over half of the panels needed to be changed. Some of the panels needed to be thrown out entirely and re-cooked. They weren't inedible, per se. I think you would have eaten them. But they would have been bland and uninteresting and, in spite of the fact that I'm wearing a hairnet and a name tag, I still take my job seriously and I'm looking for consistent quality.  The good kind of quality.

Second course: The business of lunch. I'm still on the hunt for an agent and publisher. I have very little control over this part of the meal. All I can do is research companies and then send polite query letters. At this point, even receiving a "no" response feels like a victory. For the most part, all I get is the sound of silence. And in the naked light I saw 10,000 letters. Maybe more. To be fair, I've heard agents and publishers are all severely busy. I've also heard that it's pretty much useless to contact them between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I can't say that this is a particularly palatable process for me, but it will be tough for me to serve this meal to you without an agent and publisher.

Third course: The entree. This panel comes from page five of "Saturday", which is a Tuesday in India McGreevy's world. India's at school. It's a rough day, but she's not defeated yet. I'm usually not broken by the time Tuesday rolls around, either. I think, "Yeah, it's only Tuesday, but I've made it through Monday. How bad could the rest of it be?" Sometimes, depending on the week, it's best not to hear the answer to that. Or even to pose the question in the first place.

Here's the original panel:

Here's the new version:

When I was younger and I thought about the future (which was seldom), I thought I would be mostly making my own delicious food and then eating it. I thought I would have complete control over every meal and I would never have to stomach anything I didn't enjoy. These days, I figure I'm in the lunch line with everyone else. And most days, I'm happy to be in line. The meals are mostly good. But some days, man. Some days they make you wait forever to eat and then slap something on your tray that looks like death, smells like sadness and tastes like leftover, moldy depression.

Now I'm looking for my chance to be on the other side of the line, serving. But even that's not such an easy job.

The point is, I know you're probably hungry. I've been working on this meal for a long time. But it's coming. It's in the kitchen. But I need a lunch lady (or man) before it can be served. If I can't find one, I'll just have to work multiple shifts. But I'll get it to you. And I'll keep my fingers crossed that you like it.

Cheers.

All Aboard the Germane Train. Stopping randomly.

Welcome back, strangers!

Did you have a good hiatus?

Things on this end aren't far from where you left them.  I'm still editing the book and looking for agents and publishers.  It's a slow process, but they say slow and steady wins the race (this strategy has never, ever won any race I've ever seen, but whatevs).  I'll keep at it and let you know if there are any developments.


If you're in America and don't work in retail, chances are you either just celebrated Thanksgiving or at least had a couple of days off.  I love Thanksgiving.  It usually means spending time with people I enjoy and eating traditional American foods like Doritos and things that come in casserole form.

Of course, moderation is a bit of a problem for me when it comes to said traditional edibles.  But then again, I live by the mantra: "All things in moderation including moderation", so stuffing my gob until I have the glazed over, lifeless expression of an Alex Trebek wax replica is no biggie.  Other mantras of mine include, but are not exclusive to: "Live free or don't", "Your Mother", "Death before the grave" and "I think I'd better not".

Anyhoo, I ate too much.  I don't know about you, but my food comas tend to last from Thanksgiving Day until around January 2nd.  They also tend to range in severity from "Food Malaise" to "Food Blackout" (one minute you're eating, the next you wake up in another state wearing a Cleveland Browns jacket you've never seen before).  Good food and time off tend only to exacerbate my cravings for both of those things, so between November whatever and January 2nd, my productivity is about as low as my cholesterol is high.  I'm surprised I even have the motivation to type this.

A germane train of thought can be as difficult to grab as a hard boiled egg when your fingers are covered with Crisco.  Where was I?

Oh, yeah, food, family, and "Saturday" edits.  This was the original panel from page 4:

And this is the edited version:

[ajopiwefjal;wegnaoweina[ogpknaewlkgnma.cgnuirepiuqoni[reregamopflmg;aflknhflnafhpjaof;a'm
knln;loih[oergqleknrge[qprhionq[erkmn.knouhalkfggla'sdkjg[woreihgls;dfkngehorjknj'oerkjfg'q;lrsk

Sorry.  I fell asleep on the keys for a minute.

I'll keep at it and drop in periodically to check in and say hello.  Hope your holidays went/are going/will go well.

Cheers.

Nose Job

Well, helloooo!

So glad you could make it to the latest episode of the "Saturday" update, which accounts for 24% of your recommended daily allowance of "Saturday" (according to the FDA, or Facetious Drawing Administration).  I've been considering a chewable vitamin that would double that dosage, but I'm just not sure about the legality or morality of such an endeavor.  But it would be snosberry flavored, so...bonus.

So, to fill you in briefly on the book progress: Still editing.

There.  How's that for brevity?  If you want more, continue reading this section.  If not, skip down to the bit with pictures.  Sometimes I think you only want me for my pictures.  Well, let me tell you something, Mister (or Missus): "Saturday" isn't just a pretty book to oggle, it has a brain and a heart.  Not LITERALLY.  That would be super gross.  But, I mean, there are jokes and hopefully some emotions.  I'm getting off track here.  I was supposed to be giving you an update on progress.  I'm editing one page and one panel at a time.  The process is going faster and will, theoretically, continue to speed up as I get further into the book where fewer edits are required.

I'm also still looking for an agent and publisher.  I can't say that's much fun.  It's mostly research followed by brief, polite requests made of very busy people followed by a long, uncomfortable silences.  Like the last time I asked Aunt Agnes for money (pulls at collar in Rodney Dangerfield-esque manner).



Ok: If you were skipping the progress update, jump in here:

There's a reason the edits are going faster lately: More experience.  When I started "Saturday" I thought I knew what I was doing and what I really wanted.  And I did, vaguely.

Think of it like cooking a meal with like, a thousand courses.  When I was making those first courses, I mostly had the recipe but didn't always have the ingredients I needed.  So if I didn't have sugar, sometimes I would just substitute salt.  They're both white and granular, right?  It'll prob be fine, bro.  Suffice it to say, whole courses had to be re-cooked because they were totes grody, as the French would say.

Now the whole meal is pretty much sitting on the table.  Don't worry: Most of it will keep.  There aren't many perishables in the meal (I managed not to reference "Wrecking Ball" or "Farmville" in the book).  Now it's just a matter of looking for and fixing small trouble spots, like dees:

Small changes to Elizabeth's character model.  That's it.  Just some minor face alterations (sounds like something a snooty bully would say just before he/she punches the crud out of you) and bigger hair.  Long, beautiful hair.  Shinin', sheenin', gleamin' flaxin waxin.  Here baby, there mama, everywhere daddy daddy.

So there you go.

Ok, I actually have to go ask Aunt Agnes for money.


Cheers.

Hawk eyed doofus.

Hiya.

Welcome back to the best post-Halloween, pre-election update of "Saturday" the book you're likely to read.  Ever.  I know that's a bold statement.  The gauntlet has been thrown.  The line in the sand has been drawn (I'll draw just about anywhere on just about anything, so sand is no big deal).  But I stand by my statement.  If you can find a better post about this obscure, unpublished book anywhere today, bring it.

So, a quick update to bring everyone up to "Saturday" speed (or down to it, depending on how fast you were already going): I'm hammering away at the edits and searching for agents and publishers.  I'm still having a pretty good time with the former.  The latter is...um, well, it is what it is.  Which is to say, necessary.  But not as much fun as a barrel full of monkeys.

Have you ever actually thought about how completely NOT fun a barrel full of monkeys would be?  If you're talking about the plastic kind with the loopy arms, fine.  But if you're talking about the real kind?  Dear lord.  Monkeys are really strong, very fast, loud, aggressive, wild animals.  And that's in the open.  Imagine how they'd feel if a bunch of them were stuffed into barrel and sealed up.  Then, anticipating slapstick, 3-stooges like fun, you start to pull the lid off the barrel.

"Oh, boy, this is going to be grea---".  Before you can finish the syllable, the monkeys are out of the barrel.  Like spring snakes.  Spring snakes with big teeth and opposable thumbs that are pretty miffed about being cooped up.

So maybe looking for agents and publishers is actually MORE fun than a barrel full of monkeys (the literal kind).

Anyhoo, here's one of the panels I edited recently:


(Original):

(New and improved):

India's face needed to be updated from the earlier version.  The new panel is also a little warmer, color-wise.  You might also notice India's gone from left-handed to right-handed.  It's little details like that I'm working my way through.  Gotta have a sharp eye and get up pretty early in the morning to catch tiny things like that.  Most people probably wouldn't even notice.

Guy in my head: "You mean like how you didn't draw the paper in the new panel so India is basically just writing directly onto the desk?"
Me: "Crud."
Guy in my head: "Yeah, you got a real hawk eye for detail."

Seriously, I just noticed that as I was typing this.  I imagine India's expression is the same expression you, dear reader, often have on your face as you slog your way through these posts.  And now that I know I have to go back and edit the edit, I'm right there with you.



Cheers.



P.S.- Go vote.  It's more fun than a barrel full of monkeys.

Par for the course.

Good Morning, Kids!

Thank you for tuning in to the latest episode of "Saturday" the book updates.  When we last left off, our intrepid hero India McGreevy was patiently putting up with tedious edits that, while, necessary to make "Saturday" its spiffy-ist, aren't the most adventurous things to talk about.

It occurs to me that talking about edits instead of being able to share exciting new adventures is like tuning in to your favorite Saturday morning cartoon only to find a re-run.  Actually, it's probably more akin to tuning in to your favorite cartoon only to find it's been replaced by a golf tournament.  As a kid, golf tournaments on TV were as much fun as soggy vegetables and dental fillings.

Golf: Where fun goes to die.  Quietly.

It's Saturday morning as I write this latest interlude, and I'm trying unsuccessfully to not contrast my adult Saturday mornings with the ones of my childhood.  The current ones are entertainment bogeys; grocery shopping and floor mopping.  Back in the day, I would sit on the couch eating sugary cereal and watching every brain-rotting cartoon I could find.

Brief aside: My mom was overly concerned that I would eat too much sugar.  The most sugary cereal she would buy was Honey Nut Cheerios, which, on the Dr. Frankeberry Scale of Sugary Cereals ranks about a 2.  Then she would MIX the Honey Nut Cheerios with REGULAR Cheerios so I wouldn't explode from sugar overdose.

(Before & After)

Anyhoo, there I was eating cereal and watching cartoons and basking in my responsibility-free Saturdays.  What I didn't understand is that, while I was basking, my parents were bustling about doing all those adult things (by "adult", I mean the variety that includes tax returns and oil changes, not the kind that includes R-rated movies and beer) that currently bogart my weekends.  They might have even been happy to not have me underfoot for several hours.

In the words of Homer Simpson: "Man, the kids were a pain.  Then we figured out we could just sit them in front of the TV.  That's how I was raised and I turned out TV."

Well, I think I'll honor both kinds of weekend today: First, I'm going to do some unpleasant, responsible things like fill out a tax return and watch some golf.  Then, to wash the sour taste of golf from my palette, I'm going to eat some sugary cereal in my footie pajamas.

 Here's a delightful song by Z-Trip and Supernatural about eating cereal and watching cartoons.  It has adult language and themes (and I ain't talkin' about tax returns, neither), so listener discretion is advised.


Until next time, loyal viewers.

Cheers.