These are the Lost Tales of Carney childhood lore. These are the 13 issues of Geckoman & Skinkboy, a comic I made in middle school. The first of these were merely a pasttime one summer in middle school – a literary creation wrought of a vacation with no television, no computer, no screens of any kind to interact with save the microwave clock, and the iron screen separating us from a fire in the fireplace to warm us in a chilly Maine summer night.

My brothers and I read tons of Marvel Comics and were used to entertaining each other with drawings and inappropriate readings of Berenstein Bear books.  Drawing our own silly comics for each others’ amusement seemed a natural transition.  I don’t remember there being any pre-planning or out-lining.  We’d draw in pencil, then color it in crayola-style, then ink it with my granddad’s drafting pens.  Those pens all went dry by the time we were done with them.  We’d each scribble away at our comics, giggling privately, and as soon as each page was finished, we’d present them to each other.

Potty humor. Bad puns. Pop culture references. Superhero parody.  It was all there.

I think like anything else, if it was good at one time, it deserves some sort of souped up anniversary edition in wide screen with director commentary.  I’m not quite sure how inside these comics are going to be, and perhaps only my brothers and I will enjoy the revisiting.

The goal here is to stay true to, or at least honor my developing artistic choices.  But perhaps provide some sprucing up and explore some new ways to render cartoony things.

I present Geckoman & Skinkboy Redux.

A few things to note about my keen middle school wit.

• How I imply that there have been previous Geckoman & Skinkboy comics with the flashy NEW.
• The “First Copy” notation to impress upon the reader the great value.
• Lost Tales, get it? Tails. Skinks and geckos both lose their tails in defensive situations. Also dogs have tails. See the dog on the cover? What’s wrong with him? Why is he so happy?

I don’t remember why I chose lizards. I think I knew that to churn out a comic quickly, I’d need characters that were easy to draw consistently and were somewhat amorphous so that I’d have some freedom with facial expressions.

I can’t wait for you to meet these two chaps.

Sometimes you sketch with pen because you’re bored. And you’re okay with it sucking. And mostly, the sketches do suck. But sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they’re really exciting and a composition, or the start of one, just seems to appear. That sort of child-like, automatic understanding of how to layout a drawing.

I’m excited! Inspired by Uncle Iroh from Avatar: The Last Airbender.  He’s a house favorite here at All Sphere and reminds me not a little bit of my Knox Greyfriar from Absit Omen RPG.

This essay is some philosophizin’ and deconstruction of on-line, play-by-post role-playing like what I do at Absit Omen and Thorns.  However, the ideas are applicable in tabletop rpgs like Dungeons & Dragons, or in writing a story solo.  Check out the role-playing tag to see more posts about role-playing.

It Takes a Village to Write a Character

How do we know what we know about characters? We create our characters through a biography, but their creation continues with perhaps even more depth and force as we use them for role-play.  So here are the three main ways we learn about character – both in role-play, real life and literature at large.

What characters say about themselves.
What characters do.
What others say about the characters (narrator/writer included).

Each of these things reveals truths about our character with varying trustworthiness.  Each method is worth an essay in itself on how to develop and communicate who your character is.  But the one I’d like to focus on now is not how we can build our own character, but how the role-playing community can contribute to the character-building of others.

I feel that role-playing is a truly collaborative art that gives writers the unique opportunity to interact with their own imagination, the imaginations of others as well as the unknown.  The collaboration is inescapable – as soon as you begin to write, your writing affects the writing of others in that game.  And your own character has been dropped in a rich environment molded and shaped constantly by others. This is a glorious notion and I think we can take it to the next level.

What makes a bully a bully? It’s what he does to others, of course, how he treats others.  But it’s also his reputation.  That reputation is formed by others reacting to him or talking about him.  The writer of a bully can be a talented writer, effectively terrorizing his peers.  But it is up to his fellow role-players to fill in the rest.  If they pay him no attention, he’s not really a bully at all.  If no one speaks about his actions, his reputation fizzles. It takes a village to raise a bully.

The same goes with a celebrity.  How famous are they if they’re not a household name? What about a hero Auror? A loud-mouthed journalist? And what about that drop-dead seventh year that all the boys drool after?  Sure, she can do an excellent job behaving like a teen heartthrob, but its the reaction of others that truly make that aspect of her character come to life.

It’s the idea that all writers must not only present their own characters realistically, but also take an active role in helping other writers with their characters, and being in support of their reputation.  It is not good collaboration to constantly choose not to honor a the reputation another writer would like to explore for their character, because you might feel your character is too clever, too brave or too disinterested to buy into fearing a bully, adoring a celebrity, or having a juvenile crush for no other reason than popularity.

So what are concrete ways we can build reputations as a role-playing community?  If I might invoke the television show 30 Rock:

“Pos-Mens. Setting a new standard in upward revenue stream dynamics. For all of us.”

Pos-Mens stands for Positive Mentions, and in the show, it was General Electric’s mandate for the comedy show to positively mention GE products in the sketch to help them sell.  Silly, I know.  But the application of the idea really would synergize our role-play.  Have you have felt a thrill of recognition and a sense of belonging when your character is mentioned in a thread you’re not even a part of? I have always felt those moments really made me feel as if my character was truly a part of the world we’d all created together, that my character affected other characters in a real way.  Because let’s face it – in real life we do lots of talking about our co-workers, family, friends and pop culture figures.  Sadly, in general, these are often absent in our role-play.

So, react! Mention other characters in the role-play, and not just the ones your character is directly and immediately interacting with.  Character mentions in role-play will fold each and every writer’s contribution into the elaborate and multi-layered concoction we’ve all created together.  Mentions that are faithful to that writer’s creation will help to reinforce the reputation that will complete their character development. And when a writer feels noticed, they are that much more likely to feel a part of our community, and that their own creative contribution is valued and valid.

For all of us.

My brother David and I have been going back and forth about a layout and design for his website redux. His business is taking off but he hasn’t marketed himself as much as he wants to because he wants a more confident webspace to show off and show case. Regardless of what direction he decides to go, I’m just giddy to get to trade ideas and .psd’s with him.

My most recent contribution to the .jpg conversation.

nighttime nextdoor neighbor nikki, nicely nice

I sort of need to bring my energy level down by 80% just to feel like I’m on the same planet. I teach swing dancing locally, mostly to people who are new to dancing, and this poses a challenge. The unfettered enthusiasm of teaching a dance class filled with positive students is frightening and does begin to impair communication.

We might hear statements like…

It’s like ungh! And you’re out there in the wild and there’s this thing that b’dum b’dum and you’re all (wild gesture) and he’s all (wild gesture) so you just nygh! And it’s … it’s an amazing thing.  Do you see? Do you see?!

And they very much do not. And so, in order to operate in the same language environment of learners I must hold back the flood gates of blathering excitement and prioritize communication. Restrict myself to language centered around a civilian lexicon and try and speak in the concrete. The results of my labors are the occasional emotion-spurts like the above example but mostly effective explanation and efficient markers. By calming down I also remove that temptation all teachers have to over-explain. The passion remains, but in those amounts legible and tolerable by most earthlings.

I taught two 5-week sessions of beginning swing this summer through The Workspace and the experience has been fueling. I want more! It’s exciting and encouraging to see new dancers growing in skill and confidence.

And there is nothing like watching a new class of dancers swinging out for the first time. For some reason, that movement is so iconic for me and represents more than any other movement a sort of membership into this world that’s so crucial to my identity and self-expression. They’re finally speaking my language and maybe, just maybe, that hyper-passion emo-blather from above might start to mean something to them. Last month when the July class swung out I jogged happily in place and pumped my fists and there were high-fives all around.

The June and July swing class students were all a source of positive energy for me.  They made it easy to share a dance that I love because they responded with smiles and dare-to-try it attitudes.  I know it takes patience and dedication to try new things and then to work to make them usable and I appreciated their efforts.

New Workspace classes are lined up for September, October and November, and then City of Ames classes for November and into February.  I’m really really excited about all this forward momentum for dance in Ames.  (But mostly, dance for me.)

And now? Dance art.

This drawing is from a photograph taken at Camp Jitterbug 2008. I think it’s Teni Lopez-Cardenas from Denver/Austin? Anyway, I love drawing to find those great organic lines in people, her leg, the arm.  It was just such a great moment in time, I had to catch that swivel and play with it.  Sorry Teni. Sorry Dan. Sorry shoe. Sorry arm.  This was about legs, angles and finding the best lines ever.

I told a Hapkido master:
“It’s nothing more than dance
Bodies moving bodies
in and through a rhythmic stance.
I shift my weight
then you shift yours
And step in time
Across the floor.
It’s nothing more than dance.”

I told a Lindy Hopper:
“All you do is step and go.
Bodies moving bodies,
Balance soaring in a giant throw.
I shift my weight
and you must shift yours.
Then lay you out
Across the floor.
All you do is move.”

My blue belt testing last weekend was a great reward for hard work in both body and mind, the hardest of which is mind.  The doing is something I can do, the workout, the strain, the figuring out.  But the keeping calm, the focus inward, keeping the pace deliberate and clear – that’s been the struggle.  But the experience last weekend was positive and exhausting.  I feel good about the work I did and I’m ready to meet all the new members when they arrive at the end of the month.

Beautiful photos taken by Lisa Donaldson, a fellow dancer and Hapkido warrior.

Just over a month away, the best swing dance festival in the Midwest is looming deliciously. The Cowtown Jamborama turns 8 this year and I’m full on proud to have been to every single one. For me, the Jamborama’s like a pencil mark on the door frame, a yearly measurement of my growth as a dancer and a human bean.

It’s been pretty amazing being allowed (and it is a privilege, surely!) to design promo material for the event these last two years. It’s like using my super powers for good or something. I love dancing – can my love of art make dancing… better somehow? YES.

I look forward to the dancing the most. The lessons have always been a big draw, but I’ll never leave a dance early to save myself for classes. Ever. Even when I marathoned this event as a younger much crazier person, I never skipped a moment of the dances*. It’s far more common for me to sleep through classes just to be fresh for more social dancing.

Second thing I look forward to is the people! I mean, this is really a combo because not only do I get to see friends I never get to see, but I get to dance with them. So win-win-win.

I do tend to cry at these things. I kind of get overwhelmed with how badass dancing is and how it makes me feel all good inside and how free and fun and baaaah. I get emotional and cry over it. Once, I cried on Travis, Mary’s husband during a dance. It was pretty funny later.

*Okay, I realize this isn’t quite true. I often had to leave town on Sunday to get back home for class/work and missed Sunday’s dance. But it’s always because I had to, not because I wanted to. Just wanted to be straight up.

When I was 17, I would have never in my wildest dreams (I say as I gesticulate with fervor to fully impress upon the listener that I am srsly srs about what I say when I say that) wildest most absurd hallucinations – in no fathomable alternate reality – been able to predict that maybe one day maybe I’d say, “I am a dancer.”

For real – as a teenager I had crying-in-the-bathroom panic attacks when faced with the idea of dancing.  But at age 17 in 2001 I went swing dancing for the first time and some new thread of the space time continuum spiraled off and now I live in this world were dance is an identity-defining reality.

Dancing with Tim in Omaha, 2009

But here were are.  And affirming that unlikely statement, “I am a dancer,” has been a startling experience.  Not only affirming that identity but also realizing that I don’t need to be finding something more ‘responsible’ or ‘noble’ to do with my life.  It seems so true sometimes that things like art and dancing are hobbies for everyone except the very best of their crafts, that the rest of us must settle for sit-down, stable careers with some sort of happy residual relationship to our great loves.  And truthfully, it’s not ‘settling’ for many people I know.  Their stable careers are exciting manifestations of their talents and ambitions.  But despite my aptitude for traditional schooling, I could never really picture myself tolerating a traditional work environment.  In fact, all experiences in a traditional work environment with a schedule, bosses, paychecks, commutes, business casual attire – all of it hurt so bad.  Even my very nice job I held for a year in Omaha, I felt trapped and hopeless every single day.  I felt isolated, like I was wasting away.  When I think about the realities of being a full-time teacher, I feel anxiety.  I really worry that I’d be able to survive.  I feel there is a very real risk that my love of teaching children and sharing my passion for narrative and communication in English will not mitigate the arduous, grinding nature of the ‘business’ side of being a professional educator.

But when I picture myself teaching dance, making art, designing for clients on my own, blogging, writing, teaching children in a non-traditional setting – that feels good.  That path seems breezy and free.   That alternate reality is the one where I am the most myself, the most effective and have the most positive impact on myself and my community.

This summer, I was able to make enough money to pay the basics of rent and food.  (Of course, with Esposo Tim working hard as well, we got on quite well to boot.)  But the summer’s distinct lack of fail, and in fact the momentum that’s been generated has shown that the fabric of space and time is unraveling at the seams and there are portals appearing.  Glimpses into strange worlds where I can pet kittens for a living and ice cream is a delicious vegetarian protein-rich sustenance.  That the fantasies of living a life of art and dance (and substitute teaching) is a possible thing.  It’s allowed to spend all my energy and make my living in a secure way by doing what I love.  And the fact that I love it so much and am willing to put so much work into it is what will contribute the most to my success.

What it takes, for a sometimes nervous and paranoid person like me, is to be proud of my ambitions and to assert them without shame or apology.  Assert these ambitions with confidence.  Only by sending out energy into the world can we ever receive any back.  My friends and family have been hugely supportive and I’m really beginning to realize how many creative people surround me, because before I took ownership of these identities I couldn’t be a member of those creative communities.  And so into the rift I go, happily.

Not attending any more teacher education classes this fall, even so close to the end, is a giant step.

I am a dancer.

I am an artist.

I am a writer.

I pet kittens.

Instructor Jam at HSF with Mary X. Woodruff

I printed a few business cards to have on hand.   Glossy. Flimsy. Blue on the front, orange on the back.  Or is it the other way around?