MERRY CHRISTMAS

 

Obscure Fan Theory #428: Ernesto Lacuna and Oswaldo Twee

Just stumbled across an obscure fan theory regarding Cul de Sac, one of my favorite comic strips, today: The characters Oswaldo Twee and Ernesto Lacuna are father and son, or at least in some way closely related.

First, background.

Ernesto Lacuna is an elementary-aged wunderkind-in-his-own mind, and “imaginary” friend of Petey Otterloop, one of the strip’s main characters. He’s characterized as a proto-adult in waiting, anxious to shed the imbecility of youth and become a take-charge kind of guy. He’s a member of Future Adults of America – he may be its founder and only member – and often has delusions that he holds vast authority over his peers, particularly the hapless Petey.

Oswaldo Twee is a children’s book author that comic strip creator Richard Thompson says he modeled after Lemony Snicket. He, like Ernesto, has his own manias, including the theory that when Petey, inline for a Twee book signing, lost a baby tooth, he was “spontaneously disassembling,” something Ernesto is very likely to believe as well.

Then there’s appearance. Both Twee and Lacuna, despite their differing last names, look like older and younger versions of each other. Behold:

First, Ernesto. In rather a quiet and bland moment for him. But note the hair, the round head, the strange speechifying.

Now on to Mr. Twee. Also black of hair, round of head, and odd of speech.

Enlarged, for both.

Really, all Ernesto needs is that Oswaldian swoop to his hair.

Why does this matter? It doesn’t really. But it’s fun.

Happy New Year!

Telling, Not Showing

I can’t decide if this is just a matter of perspective, or if Richard Thompson has mastered the art of telling, rather than showing.

Why not show the clown falling from the ceiling, scaring the children?

Timing might be a part of it.

This year (the Cul de Sac comic strip is in repeats) this strip appeared June 20. For context, you have to go back to February 23:

Thus, the offending clown appears only in the second panel of the first comic, leaving its menacing presence (is it in the ductwork or in the plumbing – which is worse!) unknown.

In only two of the four strips do we get a firsthand account. The final two strips in the sequence are told from different perspectives. And in that June 20 panel, the only clue we get that might get us back to the clown (aside from Panel No. 4) is Miss Bliss’ repeated use of “For heaven’s sake.”

Why am I babbling about this?

It’s just an interesting bit of perspective and narration playing with the notion of “showing, not telling” by putting it on its head in the fourth strip. It’s somehow funnier when we don’t see the clown fall out of the ceiling, but instead only get to see the reaction of the kids to the clown falling out of the ceiling.

Important lesson: Sometimes our characters’ reaction is the most important thing we can show.

Moseyin' Dwight

So what do you do when the first 200 pages of your 404-page manuscript have serious problems, including boring exposition, that have to be fixed, even when you thought the book was ready for publishers?

You call in Moseyin' Dwight and Standoffish Andrew, that's who.

In other words, you start revising the novel again. And you make sure your main characters show up strong in the beginning, with explanations for their motivations and moods and such. Keep the exposition to a minimum, or at least controlled in a way that it helps the story along, rather than being the story in its own right.

And that's okay. I've been re-reading the book over the past few weeks and have noticed (I hope) most of the problems. I'm going to have to come up with some kind of system to keep all the fixes that need fixing organized so I follow through with a few things throughout the novel.

I'm excited about it. I've got a good path forward on how to fix things. Hoping I can have it doctored up so I can write a new novel for NaNoWriMo in November. Doleful Creatures has kept me bottled up for the past two Novembers.

When Inspiration Strikes . . .

This is one of the reasons I enjoy having a Kindle Fire -- I've got an instant little spot, if the battery isn't dead, to record what little inspiration comes my way.

Annihilator of Words

Call it political correctness, call it Big Brother-ish, or call it a lame-o topic for articles (and blog posts, how meta), there is much to be said for the annihilation of words.

Or not. But at least this comic strip about the concept is funny.

What words would I choose to annihilate, or, at least through the Otterloop Conundrum, render meaningless through endless repetition? Annihilate seems to be a good candidate. First of all, do you pronounce the H or not? Do those who pronounce the H sound pretentions, thus inciting the listener to wish they would be annihilated? Would the annihiliation of annihilate, uh, annihilate the unclear antecedent from the previous sentence, where we’re not sure whose annihilation we’re meant to celebrate? Or should I forget the whole thing and start over?

Getting Past the Undesireable Chairs

Finally

After nearly a year farting about with things, I’ve finally started revising “The Hermit of Iapetus.”

In part, I’m reluctant to do so because I’m certain I’ll find out just how bad it is. But at the same time, that’s good news, as letting this much time pass has thrown in some emotional distance from the story and I can see where it needs help. Lots of it. Now.

I still need a strategy, though. I’ve taken notes. Lots of notes on things I want to fix. And I’ve got a lot of mental notes as well, including doing a lot more research, particularly in reading Roald Amundsen’s journals from his Antarctic voyage in full before proceeding too far.

But I’m making progress. Progress is good.

I’m at a crossroads with my writing. I want to finish something, particularly with only two months now before NaNoWriMo 2013 starts. I’m indecisive on whether to participate this year. Part of me really wants to write another novel this year. Another part says, um, you’ve got at least four novels for which you’ve done the first draft, and nothing’s come of any of them. Maybe finishing one of them before you start another is a good idea. But then it hits me: Writing one while editing another might also be a good thing.

Add to that I’m teaching two classes again this semester.

Add to that I’m changing church callings (more on that in a few weeks) and it’s not going from something tough to something easy, let me tell you. Though it is going from something uncomfortable to something more preferable. No undesirable chairs here.

 

So I’ll soldier on with the edits, and, I think, participate this November as well. Might as well stay busy, right?

Hm. Just Like the Books I Write

A Dying Art Form

And with that, we bid adieu to Alice and Petey Otterloop, the best comic strip pair to walk out of the newspaper pages since Linus and Lucy.

Few comic strip artists -- and I mean few; I think only Charles Schulz understands children, or at least the oddly adult way kids think they understand themselves and this world they live in, as well as this -- ever capture the essence of childhood ekeing out an existence in the adult world as well as Mr. Richard Thompson.

Mr. Thompson is giving up the comic strip business with some reluctance today, as he fights Parkinson's disease -- a cruel disease no matter who gets is, but crueler still for one who relies on brain and hand to create such art.

Having three kids of my own, I know they approach understanding this world through different lenses than adults. They may have an adult grasp of concepts and consequences, but there's always something oddly childish about their interpretation of those consequences and how they may apply in situations where an adult wouldn't see them at all, as we see Alice here bringing so much angst to the comics pages.

This rerun of Thompson's is a fitting end to his strip. If only it didn't have to end.

The Memes, not the Meaning

Controversy in the comic strips takes two forms (and I'm not talking Doonesbury here):

• Upon the death of an artist, the syndicate (said here in an evil voice meant to conotate money-grubbing, for the lack of a better word, bastards) hires a scab to continue making money, er, drawing the strip.
• Your local newspaper decides to drop Alley Oop or Beetle Bailey in favor of some other strip.

Here's a third. It's not quite a controversy, but it is worth talking about: Having guest artists take on your work while you deal with something else but are in any other respect quite alive.

That's what Richard Thompson is doing right now with his comic strip Cul de Sac. Thompson himself is grappling with the early onset of Parkinsons Disease, which shouldn't be wished upon anyone. For the past few weeks, he's had guest artists -- today's example is from "Big Nate's" Lincoln Pierce -- doing his strip as he deals with what life has handed him.

While I'm grateful to see the art coming, I've got to say that only Thompson has the flair for Thompson's work. And this isn't just because I don't much care for Big Nate.

I've said before that Thompson, like Charles Schulz, has a unique window into the lives of his subject matter: children. He can make Alice and Petey and their parents do and say things that make me think, yeah, this is real. This isn't made up, this is life coming at me through the comics pages. The little annoyances: Petey lamenting that his assorted jellies caddy is sticky before he gets to it, that he has to sit under a Tiki head at the restaurant, that Ernesto is the only guide he can find to get through the maze of portable classrooms to find his own.

The guest artists, try as they might to mimic the form and memes of Thompson's Otterloops, just don't have that same window into their world, and it shows. This doesn't mean their art or story is bad, but it does mean it's all different enough that I know it's not Thompson's work without having to look at the name scribbled in one of the panels.

It's like Johnny Hart's grandson taking over BC. He's grown into to the strip, I'll give him that, but reading Johnny's strips and reading his grandsons, you can tell the one from the other, and that's even after the grandson's art has grown to nearly mirror his prececessor's. Each has a different narrative take on the story and characters, and though the successor/replacement echoes the memes, the same feeling isn't there.

Fare thee well, Mr. Thompson. Come back when you can.

Magic Santa Lice

When your wife calls up at 8:24 am and asks how itchy you feel, you know it’s not a good thing.

We have head lice in the house.

My only comforting thought is that they might be Magic Santa Lice, but again I’m not sure that’s what’s going on.

I anticipate seeing lots of short hair and mounds of laundry when I get home tonight*. I’m actually going to request a bald head because after she posed the question, I began itching like mad. Psychological reaction, I know, but still. Yuck.

We’ve been warned that the schools are rampant with lice. Having lice is not a reflection on the personal hygiene of our children or the cleanliness of our home; it’s just an unfortunate occurrence.

So, any advice out there from people who’ve gone down this path?

*Very true. My hair -- so far, lice free -- is now also only poking 3/8 of an inch out of my scalp. Kind of like the bad missionary haircut I had in Tours.

Trusting Your Sources. Or Not.

Thanks to Richard Thompson over at Cul de Sac, I have an excellent comic to use with my students when we talk about finding legitimate sources.

Ernesto here has all the trappings of a legitimate guide: The hat, the bullhorn, the official maps and the GPS. But Petey rightfully expresses his doubts as to Ernesto’s ability when he points out that his materials aren’t what they seem. And I also hope Petey recognizes that Ernesto’s hat is a cylinder of construction paper held together by some tape at the back. Ernesto has all the trappings, but upon closer inspection, Petey would be better off being guided by an errant butterfly as he searches for his portable classroom than this self-appointed expert who really is no expert at all.

The Internet leads us to all sorts of different sources of information. Some of it is good. Some of it is patently bad. But it’s up to us, even when we’re looking at something “good” to find evidence to support our good feelings or to find the tells of propaganda being passed off as information, or something even worse being passed off as information.

That's How School Is

You know what, that is how school is. And that is how life is, at least so far. I haven't finished either school or life at this point, but I am at the point now where I realize that maybe finishing something will mean I might eventually be kinda happy with it. Thank you, Mr. Thompson, for a good metaphor of life. This is exactly why I enjoy Cul de Sac so much.

Thompson Wins the Reuben

My current favorite comic strip artist, Richard Thompson, won the National Cartoonists Society's Reuben Award yesterday.

I've known the Otterloops for so long, I feel like the award is in the family. I enjoy, as in today's Sunday strip, how he turns ordinary day-to-day situations into the drama of life that we all find from time to time.

Here's what the society says about Thompson: 

Richard Thompson is the artist/writer/creator of the daily comic strip “Cul de Sac” syndicated by Universal Press Syndicate, as well as an illustrator and cartoonist on other features. He is the creator of the weekly cartoon series “Poor Richard’s Almanac” which runs in the Washington Post, and his illustrations have appeared in numerous publications including U.S. News and World Report, National Geographic and The New Yorker. He has won NCS divisional awards for Magazine and Book Illustration in 1995 and Newspaper Illustration also in 1995. He won a Gold and a Silver Funny Bone Award in 1989 from the Society of Illustrators for humorous illustration. This is Richard’s second nomination.

I've got to admit that in my book the Otterloops are the most authentic comic strip family I've ever encountered. He also comes as close as Charles Schulz in understanding what makes ordinary kids work. Bravo, Mr. Thompson.

National Cartoonists Day

It's to surprise to my readers that I like my comic strips. And while it's true that my tastes have evolved over the years, two things have remained constant: I've always liked Peanuts, and I've always disliked Alley Oop. Not that I didn't try awfully hard as a kid to like Alley Oop. It just never caught my fancy.

It's the same with Pearls Before Swine. Really trying to like it. I come close several times, but most of the time, no, it's just Alley Oop all over again. And I can't really put my finger to why I don't much care for either of those two strips, either, though Swine's awful puns and plays on words are a big turnoff for me. Never much liked puns as a kid. Except for those that appeared in Wiley's Dictionary. Something about that disembodied, authoritative voice just made the awfulness come to life for me.

Absurdity, like this, I do like:

[He tries in vain to find a comic to fit the absurdity bill here. No luck. Almost all of my comic books are in storage because there's not enough room on the shelves for them. Next house will have lots of bookshelves. And a garage.]

There are better ones than this. Just don't have the time to find one tonight.

Two things started my love affair with comic strips: First, the Forbidden Books -- BC and Wizard of Id collections -- my brother Jeff had hidden on his bookshelf, but not well enough that his younger brothers couldn't find them. Second, "Barnaby," which my sixth grade teacher Mr. Loertscher read to us using what I recognize now as the voice of W.C. Fields as Mr. O'Malley. (It doesn't matter what any of my other elementary school teachers did or any of the stuff they tried to make us learn. My most lasting memories of school will always be of "Barnaby.") My dream one of these days is to find some "Barnaby" comic books in a thrift store. I love to dream that dream. I know they've been reprinted. But to find an original . . .

So who are my favorites today?

Well, Cul de Sac, for one. And Dilbert, for another. And the Dogs of C Kennel I rather enjoy. Overboard. Baby Blues. Yes, I'm a traditional newspaper comic strip fan. None of this magna or DC Comics or anything like that. No. They all appeal to the desire I have to feed the absurdist within.

What Did He Say?

NOTE: Once again, this is the kind of high-quality blather you're missing not being a member of the Targhee Writers Blog. Send me an e-mail at misterfweem(at)yahoo.com to sign up.

The next bit of “Their Hearts Run Cold” is going to be either slow in coming or discombobulated with the rest of the novel and the one that preceded it. I’m going to try for the former, because the latter just begs to be fixed later, and why write something to be fixed later if I can write it correct right now?

It all comes down to the author needing to know his or her characters, their behavior, how they have responded in the past, while preparing the reader for how they might respond in the future.

It’s Seth and Altus. I’m trying to make them more in-depth. And to do that, well, Altus isn’t necessarily going to do something bad because he’s a bad guy, but rather something bad is going to happen despite him being a good guy after all. I just have to remember how much of a bad guy I’ve made him previously so his sudden flip-flopping can be explained. And do it without the customary twelve boxes of introductory material.

Used under the fair use doctrine for educational and commentary purposes.

This is important because if my characters act in contradictory ways, I want it to be purposeful, not because I’m a moron and forgot what one character did when I put them in a different situation. This is probably rudimentary to the best novel writers, but since I’m not a member of their august panel, I have to learn things the hard way.

Beware the Clowns

Lest ye think that the Blisshaven Academy crowd is overreacting to the scary airborne absence of the jack-in-the-box clown, be aware: The clown has struck before:

And if you think a zinging, disappearing jack-in-the-box clown is scary, wait until you see the slow kind:

RELEASE THE CLOWN!

I'm still chuckling over this comic strip, from Richard Thompson's wonderful Cul de Sac. If you've never indulged, please do. You're missing a lot.

What I admire about Thompson's work is that you can tell he spends a lot of time writing these things out before he draws them. That's probably stock in trade for comic strippers, but still, his stand out -- they have kind of a Sparky Schulz quality to them. But Thompson's ear for sound might perhaps be sharper than Sparky's. I had a jack-in-the-box that made this exact sound as a kid. Reading this comic brought back a flood of scary clown memories.

Sometimes, Inspiration Comes to You

Richard Thompson over at the Cul de Sac comic strip, brings to us today a peek into sometimes where a writer's inspiration comes from.

I love moments like these, but I depend on them too much. In reading my writing, I can tell when a great inspiration has come. But most of the time, I can tell when something mediocre has come by and I've just run with it. That helps with the word count, but not necessarily with anything else. But I still take these moments as they come, because sometimes bad writing helps the good stuff come.

So my mission for this week: Read First and Second Timothy in the New Testament, looking for inspiration.