Comic Strip Writing 101: It's Not All Pabst and Vicodin
Quite recently I came across the following comment posted on a Web forum:
"Let's face it--All cartoonists are insane."
It's a commonly held untruth, one I fear I have validated only further with my entries on this blog. So to correct both past mistakes and false assumptions, I present you with my quotidian work schedule so that you may see just how normal, how downright pedestrian, a typical cartoonist's day can be.
Lesson Nine: Same Old, Same Old
6:30--Wake up. Feed cats Boris and Natasha. Make coffee.
7:30--Have breakfast with Carol. Watch morning news or last night's The Daily Show on RePlay.
8:00--See Carol off to work. Go to computer and check emails. Find courtesy of forwarded links that my Unitarian Jihad name would be "Sibling Gatling Gun of Enlightenment," my porn star name would be "Tawny Tail" and my Sopranos mob name would be "Francesco Marciuliano."
8:30--Commence work on comic strip copy.
8:45--Go to Largehearted Boy to score Radiohead concert mp3s.
9:15--Return to work on comic strip copy.
9:30--Lose hour wondering why no one ever puts lettuce on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
10:30--Return to work on comic strip copy. Scan Internet for possible humor ideas. Ascertain with great horror how many sites feature people pleasuring clydesdales, many with videos that take forever to download.
11:00--Commence daily heated argument with dog in backyard across from co-op. Use to be close friends until he suggested betting fortune on University of Phoenix Online to sweep NCAA basketball tournament. Relationship now chilly at best.
12:00--Lunch time! Discover nothing in fridge, cabinets or pants pockets. Briefly ponder just how many Mentos would be required to rid mouth of cat food breath. Return to work instead.
12:30--Realize have yet to bathe. Also apparently spent half of day wearing nothing but a single black sock, fortunately on foot.
1:00--Awake in bathroom in mid-urine stream. Not certain what happened but thank God for pinpoint accuracy.
1:30--Still dismayed to learn I have yet to shower, don additional articles of clothing or get something to eat. Wonder if a Wet Nap can attend to all three needs concurrently.
2:00--Boris has somehow absconded with my black sock, making walk downstairs to get mail even more humiliating than initially feared.
2:30--Starving. Try to dispel thoughts of food by inventing new dance, "The Ces." Very much like "The Twist" only you do it on a coffee table for 45 minutes to no music.
3:15--Stupid dog doesn't know what the hell he's talking about. Climb on to fire escape to engage in further dialogue. Fellow co-op residents become alarmed by prolonged screams and rub-on "Cracker Jacks" ass tattoo.
4:00--Growing faint from lack of food. Become convinced "Little Caesar's" corporate mascot and I would be best of buddies, given similar ethnic backgrounds and annoying habit of repeating ourselves.
4:30: Can't stop crying. Recount past failures and future blunders.
5:00--Write insulting remarks all over naked body with Sharpie. Begin to parse each insult for subject, verb and predicate.
5:30--Jump back on to fire escape, underlining body insults with marker while yelling at dog, "Nothing you can say that I haven't already told myself! You hear me?!? So who's the big dog now, huh?!? WHO'S THE FUCKIN' BIG DOG NOW?!?"
6:00--The sobbing is relentless. Open every door in apartment but soon learn New York City closets are far too small to provide adequate passage to Narnia. There is no escape from fears or self. Oh God...
7:00--I REQUIRE MORE CELLOPHANE WRAPPING! I REQUIRE MORE OF THAT SWEET CLEAR COVERAGE! MUST HIDE SHAME! MUST PRESERVE ESSENCE! MUST FIND SOMETHING TO CLING TO!!!
7:30--TO HELL WITH YOU, DOG! TO HELL WITH YOU, LITTLE CAESAR'S! TO HELL WITH YOU EASILY STARTLED CON EDISON METER READER! WHEN I BURST FORTH FROM MY SARAN WRAP COCOON I SHALL BE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY TO EVER ALIGHT ON A ROSE PETAL IN SPRING!!!
8:00--Carol comes home to find me laughing hysterically, naked, covered in Saran Wrap and doing "The Ces." She is unfazed.
8:30--Carol finishes removing wrap from body, inadvertently tearing off both treasured chest hair and rub-on tattoo in process. She then requests I acquire T-shirt and shorts.
9:00--We order Indian. I eat both meals. Upon hearing of my lack of food Carol inquires as to why I did not simply order in lunch. I sheepishly point to marker insult on right shoulder blade that reads "Ces Not Worthy of Delivery." She calmly suggests I bathe with a loufer.
9:30--We discuss our day. She tells me how she completed three massive assignments as large publication Art Director. I explain the secret to "The Ces" is commitment and a slippery surface.
10:30--We watch TV. We laugh. We read. We are happy.
11:30--Realize have yet to submit crucial daily comic strip script. Discover half-completed version on desktop. Write feverishly with little attention to plot or characters' names.
1:00--Reread copy. See I misspelled "onanism." Replace word with "budget." Email comic strip script. Sleep the sleep of utter contentment.
Repeat.
"Let's face it--All cartoonists are insane."
It's a commonly held untruth, one I fear I have validated only further with my entries on this blog. So to correct both past mistakes and false assumptions, I present you with my quotidian work schedule so that you may see just how normal, how downright pedestrian, a typical cartoonist's day can be.
Lesson Nine: Same Old, Same Old
6:30--Wake up. Feed cats Boris and Natasha. Make coffee.
7:30--Have breakfast with Carol. Watch morning news or last night's The Daily Show on RePlay.
8:00--See Carol off to work. Go to computer and check emails. Find courtesy of forwarded links that my Unitarian Jihad name would be "Sibling Gatling Gun of Enlightenment," my porn star name would be "Tawny Tail" and my Sopranos mob name would be "Francesco Marciuliano."
8:30--Commence work on comic strip copy.
8:45--Go to Largehearted Boy to score Radiohead concert mp3s.
9:15--Return to work on comic strip copy.
9:30--Lose hour wondering why no one ever puts lettuce on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
10:30--Return to work on comic strip copy. Scan Internet for possible humor ideas. Ascertain with great horror how many sites feature people pleasuring clydesdales, many with videos that take forever to download.
11:00--Commence daily heated argument with dog in backyard across from co-op. Use to be close friends until he suggested betting fortune on University of Phoenix Online to sweep NCAA basketball tournament. Relationship now chilly at best.
12:00--Lunch time! Discover nothing in fridge, cabinets or pants pockets. Briefly ponder just how many Mentos would be required to rid mouth of cat food breath. Return to work instead.
12:30--Realize have yet to bathe. Also apparently spent half of day wearing nothing but a single black sock, fortunately on foot.
1:00--Awake in bathroom in mid-urine stream. Not certain what happened but thank God for pinpoint accuracy.
1:30--Still dismayed to learn I have yet to shower, don additional articles of clothing or get something to eat. Wonder if a Wet Nap can attend to all three needs concurrently.
2:00--Boris has somehow absconded with my black sock, making walk downstairs to get mail even more humiliating than initially feared.
2:30--Starving. Try to dispel thoughts of food by inventing new dance, "The Ces." Very much like "The Twist" only you do it on a coffee table for 45 minutes to no music.
3:15--Stupid dog doesn't know what the hell he's talking about. Climb on to fire escape to engage in further dialogue. Fellow co-op residents become alarmed by prolonged screams and rub-on "Cracker Jacks" ass tattoo.
4:00--Growing faint from lack of food. Become convinced "Little Caesar's" corporate mascot and I would be best of buddies, given similar ethnic backgrounds and annoying habit of repeating ourselves.
4:30: Can't stop crying. Recount past failures and future blunders.
5:00--Write insulting remarks all over naked body with Sharpie. Begin to parse each insult for subject, verb and predicate.
5:30--Jump back on to fire escape, underlining body insults with marker while yelling at dog, "Nothing you can say that I haven't already told myself! You hear me?!? So who's the big dog now, huh?!? WHO'S THE FUCKIN' BIG DOG NOW?!?"
6:00--The sobbing is relentless. Open every door in apartment but soon learn New York City closets are far too small to provide adequate passage to Narnia. There is no escape from fears or self. Oh God...
7:00--I REQUIRE MORE CELLOPHANE WRAPPING! I REQUIRE MORE OF THAT SWEET CLEAR COVERAGE! MUST HIDE SHAME! MUST PRESERVE ESSENCE! MUST FIND SOMETHING TO CLING TO!!!
7:30--TO HELL WITH YOU, DOG! TO HELL WITH YOU, LITTLE CAESAR'S! TO HELL WITH YOU EASILY STARTLED CON EDISON METER READER! WHEN I BURST FORTH FROM MY SARAN WRAP COCOON I SHALL BE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY TO EVER ALIGHT ON A ROSE PETAL IN SPRING!!!
8:00--Carol comes home to find me laughing hysterically, naked, covered in Saran Wrap and doing "The Ces." She is unfazed.
8:30--Carol finishes removing wrap from body, inadvertently tearing off both treasured chest hair and rub-on tattoo in process. She then requests I acquire T-shirt and shorts.
9:00--We order Indian. I eat both meals. Upon hearing of my lack of food Carol inquires as to why I did not simply order in lunch. I sheepishly point to marker insult on right shoulder blade that reads "Ces Not Worthy of Delivery." She calmly suggests I bathe with a loufer.
9:30--We discuss our day. She tells me how she completed three massive assignments as large publication Art Director. I explain the secret to "The Ces" is commitment and a slippery surface.
10:30--We watch TV. We laugh. We read. We are happy.
11:30--Realize have yet to submit crucial daily comic strip script. Discover half-completed version on desktop. Write feverishly with little attention to plot or characters' names.
1:00--Reread copy. See I misspelled "onanism." Replace word with "budget." Email comic strip script. Sleep the sleep of utter contentment.
Repeat.
posted by Francesco Marciuliano at 12:30 PM
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15 Comments:
while maybe it was not your intent, but I must thank you for the link to the Unitarian Jihad name generator. All this time, my people were out there, and I didn't even know.
~ Sister Nunchuku of Sweet Reason
ps: turns out, they are NOT spelled "numbchucks." Who knew?
Lose hour wondering why no one ever puts lettuce on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Because.. YEEEUCH.
Hmmm, I =was= going to qualify my statement (as all the strips at Josh's place seem to have been made by people with various mental and emotional difficulties), but I seem to have been vindicated.
Never mind.
Peanut butter, lettuce, and mayonnaise isn't unheard of. I can't say I particularly enjoy it, however.
Love it! Awesome!
Peanut butter and lettuce is the bomb, baby.
With the right delivery this would be great on stage... Good stuff!
With the right delivery this would be great on stage... Good stuff!
With the right delivery this would be great on stage... Good stuff!
Hmm, doesn't sound much different from my average day as a consultant, well except for the not leaving home bit.
Sheesh. No wonder Ted is so gay...
Sooo...where were the strips this week?
Just wondering.
No pressure.
Really.
We've been driving the California coast this week with sporadic access to WiFi. This week's strips are all now available on the Medium Large Blog.
What's a 'loufer'? Is that anything like the felafel that Bill O'Reilly used?
Another day in the life. I feel your pain.
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