Yesterday, I shared the first in a series of Ethics columns I wrote for The Comics Journal in which I attempted to make sense of the time I worked for Marvel Comics. Here’s the second installment, which appeared in that magazine’s September 1985 issue.

But first a few comments from the perspective of 24 years later—

1) One of the editors at TCJ—I can’t remember who it was, though I’m sure I have the correspondence around here somewhere—insisted on formalizing the names of all of the people I mentioned, changing Marv and Len and even my wife Irene to Wolfman and Wein and Vartanoff, not at all the way I thought of them or should have had to refer to them. They were adhering to a journalistic style I didn’t think fit a memoir or personal essay, and it still seems strange to me when I reread the pieces, as if I’m holding at arms length those whom I should be embracing. If I ever collect and republish these essays, I’ll give my friends (and my wife) back their first names.

As for my other two comments, I think I’ll leave them until after you read the following, if you do bother to read the following.

2) I have no memory whatsoever of the fear I described at the bottom of the first column of page two. I remember the CPL essay, but I have no memory that once it appeared, I was worried about the repercussions. I think that ties into something I said in response to a comment on my previous Ethics entry—that time does heal all wounds. Many of the negative memories I had of my Marvel experience are gone, and the bile you’ll see in some of these installments has vanished. Some of that cleansing, as you’ll see later if I continue posting these columns, came through the very act of writing, which had an extremely exorcising effect.

3) All of the highly emotional details I wrote about the circumstances of my departure from Captain Marvel are also gone. If asked today to tell you what happened then, I could sketch in the vague details of Archie Goodwin’s unhappiness, Jim Shooter’s betrayal, and my own ineptitude at stating my case, but they would be factual only, coming from the head and not the heart. I am truly a different person, and those ancient emotions no longer resonate. But I share them here because, well, they’re honest to who I was then, and those who’ll want to know what it once was like at Marvel will get a more honest answer out of the me of 1985 than the me of 2009.

Next up—”Opportunity Knocked.”

Sean Howe, writer/editor of the book Give Our Regards to the Atomsmashers!, has been in touch with me because he’s writing a book in which he’ll attempt to sort out the Marvel Comics of the 1970s, which means that I’m doing some sorting out of my own.

During the mid-’80s, after I was no longer working in comics, I tried to process some of what went in in the mid- to late ’70s by writing a series of Ethics columns for The Comics Journal. And since I’m scanning copies of them for him, I figure why should the two of us be the only ones who suffer?

So here’s the first installment, which appeared in the magazine’s June 1985 issue, and started to explain how my love affair with comics turned into a love/hate relationship. You’ll see, if you hang in through all the installments—including the final one, which has never before been published—how my ambivalent feelings were eventually exorcised.

Somewhere I have copies I’ve proofed to correct typos and editing errors, but since I can’t find those right now, I’ll let these stand as originally printed.

I’ll be interested to learn how these read to you, because sitting down today and reading my 1985 opinions of my 1974 sure seems odd to me!

I dreamt this morning about my father, who passed away in January. Perhaps he was in my mind because I’ll be heading to Florida next month for the unveiling of his grave marker. I’m not sure of the reason, because the dream wasn’t about his death. Actually, the dream didn’t seem to be about much of anything.

Irene and my son and I were visiting my parents in Florida. We were driving to some local tourist trap, but I wasn’t yet aware what it was. At the door, I showed my tickets, but 1) my Mom wasn’t there, at least momentarily, visiting the rest room or something, 2) I had many more tickets than were actually necessary for us to enter, which had to be sorted out, and 3) a young boy whom I did not know was with us, who couldn’t have been a stand-in for my son, since my son was there at his current age. Not sure what significance any of that had. After I handed in the correct number of tickets and the boy wandered off, we went inside.

It turned out that we were visiting a farm, and as the crowd of tourists gathered in the farmhouse living room, the farmer explained the basics of how they harvest, make bread, etc., which I found irritating, since I’m surrounded by farmers in real-life. I have been both here and in our previous home in Maryland, so for at least 20 years, I’ve found nothing touristy about visiting a farm. Those are simply our neighbors, doing their daily work. If I wanted to visit a farm, I could just walk down the street. So I kept thinking, why would anyone think Irene and I would find this experience new and different? (more…)

Back in September, I shared a few covers from my 1970s’ fanzine Call It … Fate, and last month I posted a convention report on Phil Seuling’s first Second Sunday.

Here’s another page from that hectographed zine, one likely to cause drooling—an ad placed by my friend Brian Frazer for comic-book back issues.

Check out those prices!

Silver Surfer #1 and Conan #1 only 35 cents apiece? Captain Marvel #1 and Iron Man #1 only a quarter? Spider-Man #50 only 15 cents?

Hey, Brian—if you’ve still got the comics, I still have the spare change!

I’m way behind in reading Publishers Weekly, which will explain why I’ve only just now come across something intriguing from the September 28th issue. In a profile of Daniel Goldin, owner of Boswell Books, Goldin quotes from the book Setting the Table: The Transforming Power of Hospitality in Business, by restaurateur Danny Meyer.

Goldin shares how Meyer responded when asked what principle guided him as a new small business owner. He supposedly said, “I don’t want to be the best restaurant. I want to be the customer’s favorite restaurant.”

When I first read that passage, I liked it. But once it started to sink it, I didn’t like at all.

Why?

Because I think an important clause is missing.

I might have accepted the quote if it had been instead written as, “I don’t want to be the best restaurant. I want to be the customer’s favorite restaurant as long as I can do so while staying true to myself.” Perhaps I’m supposed to take that as implied, but without reading the book from which the quote was plucked, I can’t be sure.

I’ve often said that I’d rather be hated for what I am than loved for what I am not. And that’s as true for my fiction as it is for any other other aspect of my personality. Sure, I’d love to be your favorite writer—but I need to be my own favorite writer first. If I have to like me any less in order to make you like me any more … well … it’s not going to happen.

It isn’t that I want my words to be disliked by anyone. It’s just that the most important thing is to be (to disagree with the first sentence from the Meyer quote) the best me I can be. If you end up liking my stories, too, that’s gravy for which I’m sincerely grateful. But as far as I’m concerned, Meyer’s second sentence will never trump his first.

I do want to be the best restaurant.

A sentence I wrote was just cited in The New Partridge Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English: Volume II. Or to put it more accurately, I just learned that I’d been cited, since the book seems to have come out in 2005.

It’s a thrill, of course, to make your mark like that, but I was surprised by what, out of all my writing, has now worked its way into a reference book.

Was it a sentence from one of my short stories? Or a passage from a poem? Or a pithy quote from one of my essays or editorials? (more…)

As I told you last month, I’m hoping to fund our trip to next year’s Melbourne Worldcon through the sale of artwork from my collection so I can avoid going into debt. Don’t worry—I’m only getting rid of those pieces for which I feel no sentimental attachment. (Those I’ll won’t be selling until my poverty-stricken old age, I guess.)

The auction for my Bob Stanley oil painting has already closed, and started us on our way. The auctions for two other pieces have only just begun, though. Both, as it turns out, are of artwork I purchased 34 (gulp!) years ago in the art gallery of the 1975 Marvel Comics Convention.

The first is a large ink and watercolor scene of Howard the Duck, bought directly from artist Val Mayerik. A scan of the drawing is below, and you can check out the auction here. Keep in mind how early this piece was in Howard’s career—the misanthropic duck wasn’t to get his own title for another year. (more…)

I love Jim Steranko. Always have, ever since he first appeared on the comics scene. His work immediately blew me away, and I became a Steranko fanboy, which is why I bought a copy of what Wikipedia calls “the extremely limited edition Steranko Portfolio One” as soon as I saw it.

Here’s the cover to the copy I picked up at one of Phil Seuling’s July 4th cons, either in ’70 or ’71. I think it was in ’70, the same con at which I paid for my copy of The Steranko History of Comics. (I write “paid for” because it wasn’t yet available except as an advance order. I can still remember paging through the thick mock-up of what it would eventually look like.) As you can see below, I made sure to have Jim sign his Portfolio.

I was still a kid when, not so long after, I read an article about him that appeared in the September 16, 1971 issue of Rolling Stone. For some reason, I was upset by the tales included there of his criminal youth, and decided to write him a letter about it to see if they were true. (more…)

I did something a little bit obsessive this evening.

OK, a lot obsessive.

I went through the membership list for World Fantasy Con and counted the number of people with whom I shared a meal, plus the number with whom I chatted, some briefly, some extensively.

I had my reasons, though.

I’ve never taken the life I lead for granted. But two recent conversations with people not part of my convention-going life reinforced how lucky I am to have what I have.

In talking to one person, I tried to explain the experience of entering a crowded room, knowing everybody, and having to decide with whom to strike up a conversation first. (more…)

As I shared in July, Twitter changed Readercon for me. But who knew that it would affect the recent World Fantasy Con even more?

For those of you still thinking that Twitter is only about us all sharing what we had for breakfast, here are a few specific ways Twitter made my WFC better.

Live audience feedback

I’ve been on hundreds of panels over the years, and I’m used to judging the mood of the crowd by where it laughs, where it applauds, and where there’s just stupefied silence. When I was moderating a panel at the Stokers back in March, I used Twitter to poll the audience for questions and received suggestions from those on the floor as well as around the world.

But this was the first time I ever witnessed ongoing chatter as to which panelist quips audience members felt worthy of sharing with their circles of friend, thanks to updating the #wfc2009 hashtag on my iPhone.

And no, it wasn’t distracting. It was fascinating, and made the panel a richer, more complex, more rewarding experience. (more…)