In the realms of heroes, Captain Zod and his sidekick Blinky have reserved a place on the table of heroes - to the right, near the toilets.
In their civilian guises, Tony Lee is an internationally respected writer. Although he won't say who internationally respects him, and how much he paid them to. He is the writer of such big name projects as X-Men, Doctor Who, and Starship Troopers. He has also written other, lesser known stuff including The Gloom, The Tizzle Sisters & Erik, and Midnight Kiss.
Currently he has more things going on than a box of slightly wet frogs.
Laird Daniel Boultwood, the Viscount Du'Lamange is an artist. Which means he draws. He's done a lot of things for a variety of mediums. Some of which he can't talk about, some of which he can't remember. Such highlights include his creator owned and critically acclaimed Comicana, the pulp noir The Gloom, and The Tizzle Sisters & Erik, both with Tony Lee.
Trapped out of time and far from his home, the 1940s, Daniel survives on a diet of wearing spats and shouting at foreigners while wearing a fez.
Together, they are Two Drunk Guys In A Bar Productions, and in 2007 will be releasing a collected trade of The Gloom, the graphic novel Dashing Tales - For Young Chaps (including world war one drama The Crimson Todger and sci fi tale The Incredibly Exciting Adventures As Doc Chronology And His Time Travelling Armchair Investigates!) and probably another Tizzle Sisters book with G.P. Taylor.
They can be found at any good convention bar. Or at Two Drunk Guys.
So, I’m writing this on Thursday 28th of September. And you might be thinking ‘so what’ as you read that, but to me it’s an incredibly important day. You see, three years ago today my mother passed away.
Now, she was as the doctors say diagnosed as ‘riddled with cancer’ three years earlier, and we went in successive stages from ‘she has a thirty percent chance of surving this operation’ to ‘she has up to three weeks’ to ‘three months’ to ‘a year’, and in the end she lasted a solid three and a half years before old man Reaper finally convinced her to come and look at his etchings. Granted, a lot of that time she was in varying stages of pain, discomfort and stress, never knowing from one week to the next what the following one would bring, but she was a tough old bird. She could give the Hulk a run for his money.
Do I miss her? Of course I do. Everyone who knew her misses her. But she was more than my mother. She was my editor, also.
All my life, I would write stuff. Usually it was rotten as hell, cliché-riddled bollocks, but my Mum would patiently read through it and politely tell me where I went wrong. She was my sternest critic, yet at the same time she was my staunchest fan. In the final years I would sit beside her, reading large chunks of whatever fantasy novel I was writing at the time out to her. She would always get irritated when I hit the end, partly because I always ended on a cliffhanger, but also because she knew that with the way I was, flitting from novel to novel, she would never hear the end. I would give her cliff notes on what would be happening next, that sort of thing.
The proudest moment of my life was in February 2004, when I was able to show her a comic I had written – X-Men Unlimited #1, it was only half a comic to be honest, but it didn’t matter. It was Marvel. It was the X-Men. She’d heard of them. Throughout the years before, the years of writing two-bit sketches on radio and television shows, of writing adverts, features and articles for magazines and papers, I had never written something that enabled me to call myself a ‘proper’ writer. I know, all of that was proper writing, but it’s like being a writer or a novelist. And suddenly I could go ‘look mum, a story I wrote. In this comic.’
The one thing I never managed to do in time was get a book out in a bookstore. Mum was a prolific reader, a voracious one who visited the library once a week, and not once was she able to pick up one of my books. But she knew that it was coming. And she saw preview art. She, more than any other had faith in me.
I sit here today and I wish that she could see me now. I wish even more that she could see me in another three years time. Not because it would have given her more time, but because I would have felt that I had actually made a difference; that I had proven myself. In my family, I have two brothers, both twelve, thirteen years older than me. One is an Astrophysics Master who in his time has been involved in the development of many of the British advances in space exploration over the last twenty years, has lobbied the government on many occasions and is now Sales and Marketing manager for a Spacecraft software company. The other is currently one of the guiding forces in touch screen technology. And then there’s me. The guy who makes the funny books. But never once have they mocked me for following my dream, and there’s even a bit of pride in their eyes when they hear about my latest project. This keeps me going. Even my father, who’s never been the best of readers, will plough through my work, even though secretly? He’s waiting for the movie adaptation.
But it’s still my Mum, my dear old departed mother who I miss the most.
So I’ve been working out my finances as well today. If you ever become a writer, you’ll learn this game – it’s called ‘how much do I have to live on’. All freelancers do it. Firstly, you’ll have a figure that is your minimum monthly expenditure. Then, once you have this you work out how much money you have coming in. For example – Billy needs a thousand pounds a month to live on. (That’s about thirty thousand dollars or something.) He knows that next month he gets five hundred from one comic, four hundred from an interview he’s done and there are a couple of hundred pounds here and there. He’s made his month; he can survive as a full time writer once more.
But, say he makes a sudden deal where he gets two thousand pounds advance? Does he go buy a holiday? A motorbike?
Hell no. He puts it into savings. That’s two months of survival right there.
It’s very depressing in a way, but writers rely on ‘coming’ work. They know of things happening in, say March that they know they’ll get money for, so their lives become ‘surviving until March’. I was the same until about eleven months back, when I took a consulting job at a cleaning firm. I did their marketing and sorted out meetings for the director on the basis that when he wasn’t about, I could write. I kept my deadlines, put aside effectively half the week for writing, and made a regular salary.
The problem was that without the need to make money, I became lax about it. In March I wrote an adaptation for a four figure sum, and whereas usually that would have kept me going for three, four months, I spent it. I bought PSPs, new phones, clothes, it paid for San Diego in one go, that sort of thing. I’d lost the edge. I lost work because of, well, work.
And to get it back? I had to drop the job. Now I’m getting more work than I did in the last eight months combined, and I’ll make a living in 2008. But I’m not able to buy my exciting toys. Perhaps I’ll get to a point where I can, but when you’re freelancing, you have to make sacrifices.
But to be honest? I’d rather have the money. So unless I get a couple of book deals pretty soon, I’ll be consulting again…
Yeah, kids. This is the life of a freelance writer. Exciting, eh?
Here’s Dan… I awoke hastening down a rope ladder cursing the name of Jimmy Durante.
Looking about me with argyle confusion I took in the situation at hand. The opium den was unusually busy.
To my left the former deity and penny dreadful louche, the barnacled wreck that is the Count Woogie lay in a misshapen crevice beside the chamber pot.
“What time is it!?” I screamed, far louder than I imagined, the strength of my breath causing my moustache to spontaneously combust into a Merryfield. “Blackguard!” I cried as to my right the Duchess of Dyke mainlined wasabi.
Thinking quickly I doused the inferno with 35 year old scotch thereby causing the fire to burn out quicker. And by default, several layers of skin which I could replace on the black market or from the local butcher.
Pain began to sear through me as searing pain seared through me. Undulating wildly I charleston'd out onto the cobbled streets.
Filled with fandango my flailing wingtips disemboweling several orphans who had strayed into my path chasing a penny in the gutter, which I had thrown there.
Worry filled me like mother of pearl as my second best trilby ignited. Quickly I scrambled beneath a remarkably non-plussed shire horse, remembering that shire rhymes with fire and much like dock leaves to stinging nettles the two always grew close together. My bonnet flared as I caught my grommet on the brindle, spraining my right index finger and bringing about a case of appendicitis.
“Miss Congeniality” I supposed as I urged my inflamed haversack towards the horse trough at the wrong end of the horse. “Avenge me!” I folliculated, tearing off a fingernail as I ostracized my spare fez as a make shift water bucket.
Mild relief cascaded over me as the urine-addled liquid set to the flames, which had consumed my eyelids. Brushing myself down I headed back to the bulletproof bomb now more than ever intent on defeating the devilish Dick Dastardly and becoming the world’s wackiest racer.
From the memoirs of the Viscount DuLamange, from the chapter entitled ‘My trial as a war criminal.’ So did you pre-order Hope Falls #1? I hope so, because it’s pretty much over and done now. But that doesn’t stop you ordering Hope Falls #2 now, does it!
Anyway, things to mention before the next time we speak – well, in between now and the next now is the Birmingham International Comics Show, or BICS, at the Millennium Point, Birmingham on the 13th and 14th October. People who pre-order tickets or contact is get on the VIP list to attend the Launch Party which (as threatened last time) is now at Bennett’s Bar on Bennetts Hill off New Street in central Birmingham. The party starts at 8pm and runs until late, we have bands playing and a comedian (I think), buffet food, canapés and the launch of Hope Falls #1. Both Dan and myself will be there to sign copies, and Markosia will be providing a goodie bag that includes a badge, some other comics by me, the obvious Hope Falls and a limited edition 100-copy print of one of Dan’s variant covers, signed by the man himself. All for five pounds. Yahtzee!
And of course I shall be at the convention all weekend – Dan unfortunately won’t, (the launch party is all he can attend due to family commitments that weekend) but we’ll be together again the following weekend at the MCM London Expo, in the ExCel Centre, in Docklands. So come and find us there!
But back to the convention, it should be a hoot, with star guests galore and convention panels not seen in several years including The Write Stuff on the Sunday, hosted by myself and last seen in 2004 at Kev Sutherland’s London Expo – where aspiring writers pitch their ideas in public to a panel of writers and editors, who then give their opinions. Hopefully there might even be a separate panel on the Saturday of Editors and Writers explaining how to pitch, but this is dependant on space and time.
In addition, once more I shall be on the evening’s entertainment The Kryptonite Factor, everyone who was there last year stated that it was the best part of the whole evening, with team ‘Writers’ – Kieron Gillen, myself and team captain Dave Gibbons against the ‘Artists’ – John McCrea, Jamie McKelvie and team captain Mike Collins – only just losing out due to obvious bias from moderators Ade Brown and Lee ‘Budgie’ Barnett.
But this year things might change, as due to a rather nasty injury Budgie might not be able to host it, and has asked me to be his Angus Deayton – so I might be hosting it instead. Personally? I’d rather Budgie was there, but knowing how bad his foot is? I’d rather he wasn’t, if you know what I mean.
Anyway – if you haven’t ordered your ticket for the convention, hurry up, it’s going to be worth it. With this, MCM London and the Dublin Convention in November, the UK and Ireland are definitely the places to be over the next couple of months for comics.
No art today. I’m quite down, and I’ve decided that instead, I shall leave you with the words to Jerusalem, a hymn that was my Mothers favourite while she lived.
Goodnight, Mum. See you all in a couple of weeks.
Jerusalem
Written by William Blake
And did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England's mountains green And was the holy lamb of God On England's pleasant pastures seen
And did the countenance divine Shine forth upon our clouded hills And was Jerusalem builded there Among those dark Satanic mills
Bring me my bow (my bow) of burning gold Bring me my arrows of desire Bring me my spears o'clouds unfold Bring me my chariot of fire
I will not cease from mental fight Nor shall my (my) sword sleep in hand 'Til we have built Jerusalem In England's green and pleasant land 'Til we have built Jerusalem In England's green and pleasant land Tony Lee is the award-nominated writer of things including The Tizzle Sisters with G.P Taylor and Dan Boultwood, Starship Troopers, Doctor Who, X-Men, Wallace & Gromit and Midnight Kiss. Later this year Tony has stories involving Shrek coming out. In early 2008 he hopes to have Dodge & Twist out by AiT/PlanetLar. In 2008 he also has Robin Hood – Outlaw’s Pride with Sam Hart and Walker Books, and Warrior Nun Areala: Excommunicated with Antarctic Press.
Michael Moorcock says that ‘Tony Lee is one of the best story-tellers working in comics today’. He drinks, though.
Dan Boultwood is the critically acclaimed artist of things including The Tizzle Sisters with G.P Taylor and Tony Lee, and both Monster Club and Comicana for APC.
Together they have written and drawn The Gloom (out soon as a collected edition) and the upcoming Hope Falls, out in November from AAM/Markosia. The website is http://www.hope-falls.com.
