Everyone’s At San Diego

Except me. I’ve been to the San Diego Comic-Con maybe four times in the last fourteen years, and the last time I was there for less than a full day, doing RED movie stuff.
San Diego: the comics business goes dark for a week. I used to look forward, a bit, to this week. With no-one around, I could sit and think about what was next, and it always felt like I was stealing a march on everyone else.

Now, of course, I’m barely writing any comics at all, and I have sixty thousand words of novel left to focus on getting written. (I’m behind where I wanted to be, it’s been a shitgrinder of a month.)

Eric Stephenson of Image Comics wrote this very kind little note the other month —


— about how I’m not really present in comics anymore. And it’s true enough. Even that bloody documentary makes me feel like I’m sitting in at my own funeral. Are they screening that at San Diego? I think I heard something about a panel on the subject, anyway. That and getting the Eagle Awards Roll Of Honour gong were clear signals that my time in the medium was done, I think. I thought only dead people got that award. I’m mostly joking.

But that post of Eric’s did put me to thinking: this is the first year in a very, very long time where I’m not using the San Diego week to think about comics. It’s a strange thing, for me, to be done with comics. Especially when there’s so much left to do, that I will probably never be able to do. And on weeks like this, I wake with frustration, that I’m leaving the field with all the things I wanted to achieve half-done.

Oh, and: if you see Templesmith at San Diego, go easy on him. He’s been down in Perth dealing with some tragic family matters, and it’s been a really rough year for him. FELL #10 will be here when it’s here. If you want to buy a comic whose greatest virtue is that it’s really on time, buy a DC comic in September.

One last thing: if your SVK torch arrived inoperative, BERG have written this post —


— to apologise and explain why. We did tell everyone this was an *experimental* publication…!

sent from [device: spacebook]

Posted via email from warrenellis’s posterous

On July 9, I made my sole public post on Google+.  It reads:

Dear 1000 people who have added me to their circles apparently overnight: very kind of you to think of me, but the system is just not fine-grained enough yet to let me sort through you effectively. So I have to declare Google+ bankruptcy. Sorry.

Also none of you invoked me in the approved manner, which requires a bottle of whisky, ritual drumming, fire, two chickens, a bucket of eels and a nurse.

Neil Gaiman copied the post to his own account, and then deleted his account a couple of days later.  Totally understandable.  That little red notification button going off in Gmail every sixty seconds can get a bit maddening.  I just took a look at Google+.  Since I posted this, another 4000 people have added me to their circles.  It’s an interesting service, but it’s nigh impossible to find the people I actually know or am interested in within the flood of faces.  And the “relevancy” system is, um, not very good.  In fact, I summed my experience of that up as:

SCIENCE: I am actually probably not that good at it.  But I have the lab coat regardless.  And they cannot have it back.