A few days ago, I shared an ancient diary entry in an attempt to solve a comics mystery, and I can’t resist sharing another, this time to give some insight into one of our great fantasy artists—Roy Krenkel, who won the Hugo Award in 1963 and is perhaps best known for his Edgar Rice Burroughs-related work.

I knew Roy from the convention circuit, but one day in 1980, my wife and I had a revealing encounter with him in a Brooklyn mall. In the interests of giving some insight into the man, here’s an excerpt from a entry made on January 20 of that year.

Irene and I went over to Kings Plaza yesterday afternoon, visited the bank, bought cheese, cookies, etc. As we were leaving we ran into Roy Krenkel, who was just hanging around a first floor fountain wasting time because he didn’t want to go home. The three of us had a very pleasant conversation. Roy spoke of his incredible bad luck, and how it had enabled him to devise a plan to overthrow the Ayatollah Khomeini. Simply get a group of people to sign documents which committed them to paying Roy a monthly sum as long as Khomeini were alive, claimed Roy, and the Ayatollah would live two more months at the most. The Fates were allied against him, said Roy, and no way would they allow him any good luck. He’s frequently told friends that the way to make sure that they survive when flying is to make him beneficiary of their insurance; their plane could crash into the side of a mountain, everyone else would die, but THEY would walk away unscathed because there was no way that Roy would ever be allowed the good fortune of collecting. We also spoke of making out wills for our collectible items (he figures he’s worth half a mil, but that he’s never going to see it because he couldn’t bear parting with his etching collection), of the pettiness of comics, of convention fatigue, of the love of books. I tried to look up his age in one of my science fiction encyclopedias after we arrived home as we were interested because he hasn’t appeared to age in the past fifteen years, but no luck … the info was unavailable, unlisted. Irene owns a drawing of Red Sonya by him which is hanging in the hallway downstairs, and afterwards Irene realized that she should have mentioned it (he might have appreciated knowing one of his piece was enjoyed daily), but she forgot. Roy gives the good impression of a wonderful eccentric, something I imagine I shall work at cultivating later in life.

So 35 years later, how am I doing with cultivating that eccentricity?

BTW—at the time, Roy, born July 11, 1918, would have been 61.

Once I learned, only a few days before the event, that Jeffery Ford was going to give a reading at Frostburg State University as part of the Spring 2015 Reading Series at the Center for Creative Writing, I knew I had to be there.

Hey, it’s only 80 miles each way from the Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia where I live, and seeing Jeff only once or twice a year at cons is (as those who know Jeff know) definitely not enough. So on Thursday, I jumped in the Jeep and headed over to meet him at the home of Andy and Sydney Duncan, where we caught up for an hour or so before heading to dinner, and then on to the Lewis J. Ort Library, located on the campus of Frostburg State University.

Poet Gerry LaFemina, the Director of the Frostburg Center for Creative Writing (who’d joined us for dinner), introduced Andy …

… who then introduced Jeff, who read his story “Word Doll,” from the anthology The Doll Collection, edited by Ellen Datlow. (more…)

I was skimming through my old diaries in search of what I’d had to say about an incident which I remembered occurring in the early ’80s (an incident I’m not going to tell you about, so there), and in the course of that search came across something completely different—a mysterious job opportunity mentioned in an entry from November 16, 1979—

I responded to this ad in the Village Voice yesterday: “WRITER—Gag writer needed to collaborate w/cartoonist for cartoon strip. Call Richard Maneely [phone numbers redacted].” Well, I did, and gave my name and phone number to an answering service. Maneely called back this morning, and it turns out he is the AGENT for a cartoonist who tried to do a strip years ago with a writer. The strip failed to sell, the writer quit, and the cartoonist has been doing work in advertising the past years. He’d like to revive the project with a different writer now. Maneely is mailing me copies of the strip to look at. If I like it I’m supposed to call Maneely back and then we can work out a deal and the artist (whoever it is) and I can start working together.

I’d completely that this had ever happened.

Also forgotten? What happened next.

Why exactly did I never get get involved in this comic strip?

Did I see take one look at the samples and decide the collaboration would never work? Or did I, on the other hand, like the strip and want to move forward, only to get shot down by the artist?

In fact—did the samples ever show up the mail for us to even get that far?

No idea.

I looked carefully through my diaries—in which I’ve written on a near-daily basis since November 2, 1978—and found that I never referenced this project again. Whatever happened to it is a total mystery.

So I’m going to toss out these very thin facts to the comic strip gurus and ask—do you know of a strip growing out of this kind of relationship during that time period? Perhaps some other writer got the chance to script a strip I don’t think I even got a chance to see.

What say you, experts?

I sure I must have read the April 1926 Amazing Stories before as part of my desire to see how this thing of ours began, but I have no memory of reading Hugo Gernsback’s editorial in that first issue of the first science fiction magazine.

Wait, no—let me correct that. Because Gernsback didn’t call it a science fiction magazine. He called it a scientifiction magazine.

And what was scientifiction? For those who’ve never heard the term, let Gernsback explain—

By “scientifiction” I mean the Jules Verne, H. G. Wells, and Edgar Allan Poe type of story—a charming romance intermingled with scientific fact and prophetic vision.

And from that statement an entire genre, far more varied that he could have ever imagined (or, I’m guessing, would ever have been comfortable with, as scientific education is no longer our main goal) has sprung forth.

Check out his mission statement from 89 years ago.

I’m already on record about how much I despise Roy Lichtenstein, so it would be redundant to repeat all that today.

But now, it seems, I have 50,000,000 more reasons.

Over on Facebook, David Barsalou—who’s been cataloguing Lichtenstein’s sins for many years—brought to my attention that Lichtenstein’s appropriation of a Ted Galindo comic book panel is about to be offered by Sotheby’s for $50,000,000.

Yes, $50,000,000. I doubt Galindo even got $50 for drawing the panel that inspired it.

That’s Galindo’s original occupying most of the image above, with Lichtenstein’s swipe inset. You can read more about Galindo’s history as a comic book artist here.

It would have been nice to see a mention of Galindo in the ArtNet story about that coming sale. But then, you know me—I believe every article about one of these Lichtenstein’s should include a reference to the source material, the same way I feel gallery operators and museum curators owe it to history to include those references in their literature and wall placards. They fail in their duties whenever they don’t.

All artists deserve respect. And not just the ones whose works sell for $50,000,000.

How wide is Brenda Starr’s cousin Abretha Breez? Based on the cover to Brenda Starr #6, so wide she can’t even fit through the kitchen door to get more cake!

Brenda Starr, created by Dale Messick, is a newspaper reporter always on the trail of a scoop. Think Lois Lane in a world without Superman. She started out in a comic strip of the same name in 1940, then moved on to comic books in 1947. But it seems (at least based on the content of this story) as if cousin Abretha didn’t debut until the comic’s January 1949 issue.

And continuing with my look at how women with body types society had deemed unacceptable were depicted in yesterday’s comics (you can find the previous installment here, plus links to the ones before that), let’s check it out! (more…)

Last week, I told you all about my wife’s new comics-inspired novel, Temporary Superheroine, and how it was available for your Kindle.

Which likely left some of you thinking, “But I don’t have a Kindle! How will I be able to enjoy this awesome tome?”

I’m glad you asked!

Temporary Superheroine is now available on multiple platforms. In addition to the Kindle, there are now digital editions available for iBooks, Kobo, and Nook.

And for those who’d prefer a copy made of dead trees rather than pixels, Temporary Superheroine is also available in paperback.

See? Not only is my wife talented, she’s thoughtful, too!

I’m behind in reading Locus, so I’ve only just now gotten to the magazine’s interview with Simon Ings from its February 2015 issue. You can read excerpts here, though this section, which resonated with me the most, wasn’t included—

My ex is the agent for Lawrence Durrell’s estate. What’s interesting about Durrell is the amount he threw away. This was a man who could write for his country. He was extraordinarily prolific. But although his body of published work is quite extensive, it’s really tiny compared to what he churned out, and he was very good at throwing stuff away. Because it’s been his centenary, every squirrelly academic from every Midwestem college is saying, “There’s this lost Larry Durrell manuscript that we must publish!” The house is full of bad Larry Durrell, and the agency and the estate are constantly turning down these academics. “He threw this away. The only reason he didn’t discard it in a bin is because he’s a writer and he might need that scene later. This is not for publication.” That’s part of the writer’s job. They published an unpub!ished John Wyndham novel. There’s a reason why it was unpublished. It does him no service whatsoever, because that’s now part of his canon, which is ridiculous because he couldn’t make it work.

Milan Kundera is always on about this: you should be able to lose work.

Why did this passage touch me? Because I’ve been doing my best for years to “lose work,” in part to make sure no future “squirrelly academic” will ever have a reason to make that kind of demand on my heirs. (Not that my work is important enough one ever would, but humor me here.)

My first 25 or so unsold short stories? Destroyed! (Well, save for the first, which I’ve been hanging on to for sentimental reasons.)

My first three unsold novels? Also destroyed!

The first drafts of every other novel or short story I’ve ever written? Save for a few pages from a new piece set aside specifically for the Kickstarter campaign of the anthology Genius Loci—shredded!

I’ve done my best to ensure that any work which doesn’t live up to the rules Kenneth Koch stated in “The Art of Poetry” no longer exists.

As for my early work that did get published but probably shouldn’t have gotten published, well, there’s little I can do about that now save make a promise that while I live it will remain forever uncollected. What happens after I’m gone I know is out of my control.

But what is within my control is to make whatever work no longer says what I want it to say as best as I can say it … disappear.

That Milan Kundera sure is wise. (Simon Ings, too.)

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a few more old manuscripts to burn …

Those of you who know me also know (mainly because I can’t stop singing her praises) that I’m married to comics legend (and cutie pie) Irene Vartanoff. Well, I have one more thing to shout about, because her first novel, Temporary Superheroine, is now on sale!

Check out the cool cover below, with the temporary superheroine of the title drawn by our old Marvel Comics pal Bob McLeod.

You already know Irene as an infamous DC Comics letterhack and writer/editor of romance comics, but now’s your chance to lose yourself in a novel—and a comic-book inspired one, at that. Here’s a brief description of what you’ll find in its pages—

Chloe Cole, struggling webcomics artist, is tormented by crazy dreams, mysterious e-mails, and ominous sightings of a supervillain on the loose. In her dreams, she’s a superheroine. Could those dreams have been responsible for unleashing ultimate chaos? When Chloe goes to New York looking for answers, dreams crash with reality and comic book fiction turns to fact. Driven to undertake a desperate quest, Chloe must unravel the mystery of her parentage while navigating a bizarre mirror universe. Can she and her ragtag team—her comics fanboy ex-boyfriend, an enigmatic and powerful comic book company executive, an elderly comics icon, and an eccentric artist with a grudge against society—possibly be enough to vanquish a fearsome foe?

Read Temporary Superheroine and maybe you’ll understand why Stan Lee nicknamed her “Impish” Irene Vartanoff all those decades ago during the years I fell in love with her at Marvel Comics.

For now, the book is only available in a Kindle edition, but as soon as hardcopies are available, believe me, I’ll let you know.

Go! Buy! Read! Enjoy!

I’ve been sharing quite a bit lately about fat-shaming in romance comics, but now it’s time for something a little different—fat-shaming (of a sort) in a non-romance comic. “Chubby, But Oh My!” appeared in My Little Margie #18 (Dec 1957).

My Little Margie was based on a TV sitcom that ran from 1952-1955, which means I should have no first-hand memory of it, but it was still in reruns when I was a kid. I have no idea whether the characters of Sonya and Dimples ever appeared in the original series, but based on IMDb, I suspect they were created for the comic.

As the story begins, Sonya is digging into an ice cream sundae—but Dimples passes on one because she hopes to lose weight in order to beat Sonya in a beauty contest.

Sonya disses Dimples, saying that her friend is too chubby to win, and will never lose weight. Instead of overturning that sundae on Sonya’s head as some of us might have done, Dimples simply insists that from now on, she “won’t eat a single fattening thing.” (more…)