Monkey Rub

This is a preview of my webcomic that's in the works called "Monkey Rub." After a few installments you'll know why. I'm going to finish a few weeks worth before I post the first one since I'll need a head start because of college.














I've been checking my ratings a lot lately, and it turns out I get a lot more people visiting if I have art. I don't know what that's all about, but if it works, I'm going to keep doing it.

*Edit: Yeah, if you looked earlier this guy was just a floating head. I added a suit and tie.

Jump!

Just another image I found myself creating in flash. I like it - thought I'd share.

Productivity

So being away from home and being bored most of the time since classes don't start until Monday, I took myself up on a challenge I'd given myself a while ago. See, I'd brought all my inking stuff down, and I didn't really think I'd end up using it. Well, I was wrong. I did some stuff yesterday, and then taped them to the wall. Walls need decoration.






Image #1 - Titled "Fear"















Image #2 - Frankie?














Image #3 - "I am Horus"








Yes, I know the quality of these isn't very good, but I don't have scanner. So I rely on my webcam. Oh well.

College Life

Well, it's not much different than what I expected. There are a lot of obnoxious boys, obnoxious girls, and as I walked the streets of East Lansing during the witching hour, thousands of them milled down Grand River, looking for deals in head shops and vintage clothing stores. A lady with a bolt through her ear and chopped hair was handing out cups of root beer in plastic cups, and I grabbed one.

I bought a chicken burrito from Big Ten Burritos, and walked to a friend's place on the other side of campus where I watched Sin City. Again. Still, damn fine flick.

Stopped in to Barnes and Noble to check out their graphic novel section, but I couldn't find it. I'll have to go back tomorrow or sometime.

I miss my girlfriend, but it's only six days until I get to go home.
Hold on, Libby!

I Don't Want To Go

Well, maybe I'm a little excited about being away from home, finally on my own after all these years. But not really. My house is starting to feel different. I know I'll live here next summer, and during the holidays, but I already feel like I don't belong. A visitor. And that's a lonely feeling. Everything I know is about to change, and I really can't do anything about it. Maybe what is bothering me is the total lack of control I have over everything.

I have to leave the girl I love here, and I know that when I'm at school I'm going to want her there, with me, and I'll be sick. You know that feeling where you are positive that what you're doing isn't the right thing, that you need to be somewhere else, doing something else, at that very instant? I feel like that all the time now, and it's frustrating because I know it's only going to get worse.

Maybe it's nerves, maybe it feels like I'm being locked into a roller coaster car with no way to get out, or maybe I'm just scared to death.

That's probably it.

I'm taking Libby to the 40 Year Old Virgin tonight - I love Steve Carrell.

A Problem With Blogs

I've been reading a lot of blogs lately, mainly on the subject of a NY Times article about the impotence of web comics. (See Scott McCloud's site - August 18). Now, while I agree and disagree with certain views about the responsibilities of journalists, I have one problem with blogs that I want to talk about. Now, if this doesn't apply to you, don't worry about it. Because it probably doesn't.

A lot of the blogs I've read recently are by average people who think their thoughts and opinions are more important than others. They're obsessed with their intelligence and convey every point (clearly opinionated or otherwise) they make as fact. When others try to refute their views, these bloggers go into long-winded and ultimately useless arguments that are often completely irrelevant.

I won't name names, because I'm not fond of the infamous "flame war", and I'm not one to pick fights with people I don't know.

If this applies to you, remember: Your opinion is not as important as you might think. You are not the smartest person in the world (just because you have a blog).

And yes, I believe in these things for myself, as well.

Adam

In Chicago

I'm in Chicago this weekend for an art show. I'll have plenty of time to work on anything I want to, but I'm not sure I'm going to want to.

So, have you seen Ryan Estrada? That guy's nuts. I admire him, but he's nuts. I made him a comic.

Technical Difficulties

Okay, so my computer died. I had to get all my important files off quick, and then reboot XP and reinstall all the drivers myself. At least it's running cleaner now. I'm searching for a new background.

Also, the new ClearType option is amazing! If you haven't seen it, go to your display properties (on XP) and then to the appearance tab...and hit effects. Then you have the option of turning on ClearType. All the letters are so vivid now!

Also, I had my story read and edited and I rewrote it and sent it off to Orson today. I'm a little scared: my story was more horror than SF or F. Oh well. If he likes my writing maybe he'll ask me for another story.

The story ended up being 3800 words. You can read it over at Growing Fiction.

Also it's raining and I'm really hungry.

GF Updated, Not How I Wanted

Okay, so Growing Fiction has been updated...with the second thousand-word part of An Evening of Blue.

Go read it.

I wanted to have it done by today, but the story is shaping up to be a lot longer than I thought it was going to be when I started. I'm even thinking it has potential to be sent to Orson Scott Card.

We'll see. I may even write another one for that.

Adam

Growing Fiction Delayed

Okay, give me a day to get the story updated. I've been tooling around with the story I wrote on this blog, the one I'm calling Down This Road. I think that's the one I want to send to OSC.

Also, I have been trying to get my critiques in order at Critters. I've done one today. Maybe another will get done before the night is over.

Adam

HOLY $#!@

I think I'm going to faint.

Here's why.

Remember that famous author who bought some paintings from my dad a few weeks ago? I sent him a letter:

Dear Mr. Card,

Hello. My name is Adam Holwerda, son of Bruce, the artist from which you purchased a few prints at the Madison, WI art show. I was asked casually, several days later, by my Dad, if I'd ever heard of an Orson Scott Card. "He said he was a writer. Have you read any of his books?" Meanwhile, my jaw had fallen open and I stared incredulously at the small piece of paper on which you'd printed your name, contact information, and the titles of a few books you'd written.

I couldn't believe it. I have read Ender's Game, and Speaker for The Dead, and enjoyed both tremendously. I've even picked up and read through your guide on How to Write Fantasy And Science Fiction (and used what I found there to great success). And once I'd explained that you are a big name in the Science Fiction realm, my dad was shocked.

"And I just treated him like any other guy," he said.

I was envious of him for having been able to meet you, but at the same time I knew that if I were there I would have stood, gaping, a shadow behind my father. I'd maybe tug his sleeve. "Dad, this guy's famous."

I've wanted to be a writer since I was eight years old. I'm eighteen now; I finished my first novel last November (a fairly idiotic attempt, but with some semblance of plot - I'll learn). My stories have always been the playground of the fantastic - Angels guarding roads to Hell, small blue men charged to keep order in the universe, elephants in living rooms. I'm going to school this fall at Michigan State University, where I'll be majoring in English. I want to write; to create. It seems I've always wanted to.

I admire your talent, your intelligence. It is worlds like those I found in Ender's Game that I wish to create. Living worlds. Worlds of pain and love, of thought and reason.

Thank you for giving yourself to your art. You have inspired millions, including myself, to reach for greatness.

Adam Holwerda

P.S.

And my father thanks you for buying his artwork. He hopes you'll buy more.

This was last night. I get a reply from him this morning.

Your father's artwork is wonderful. i wanted to embrace it all and take it home. But that would have been wretched excess. I'll have to wait for the book.

Meanwhile, I wish you well in Lansing (or West Lansing? I THINK that's where I remember them keeping Michigan State). Because it was long the home of Clarion, maybe the English Department there will be more sympathetic to speculative fiction than most - most are actively hostile to giving a creative writing degree to a practitioner of the Inferior Arts. Here's a hint: Call your stuff "magic realism" and tell them you idolize the South Americans. When someone mentions Asimov or Heinlein, get a blank stare and say, "Who?" This will cause them to read your work in a completely different way. They will call it inventive and edgy, instead of crap .

Meanwhile, pick your best story and send it to me. I'm starting an online fantasy/sf magazine; we pay competitive rates. It may be I'll agree with you that you're young and still learning - no shame in that, we were all there and it's a step along the way. But it may be that you're already ripe for publication, or very close. Who knows? Email it to me and my assistant editor, xxxx xxxxxx (her email is included in the cc: line). Let's see what happens.

Orson Scott Card
For Your Amusement Only
Do Not Try This At Home

So, as you can see, I'm freaking out. I have to find my best story, edit, rewrite if necessary, and send it off. I want so badly for this to be my break.

But hey, I'm still just eighteen.

Minor Things

So Libby's away at Journalism Camp, and I don't know what to do with myself. I've been drawing a lot, portraits from photographs. I fixed my microphone, or rather, I replaced the audio driver on my laptop as it wasn't functioning as it should have. Now I'm trying to figure out how to use this Speech Recognition thing to input text. It would be faster than typing, I'm sure.

I got my hair cut this morning, short. Piles of hair littered the hallway.

I need to do about five critiques for my online critiquing group, Critters. I'm down two but I'd like to get ahead.

Also on my list for today is the completion of the latest story for Growing Fiction, which I will post tomorrow (as tomorrow is Tuesday). Have a good day, everyone.