MAY 9
A SENTENCE ABOUT WHAT COMICS-RELATED WORK YOU DO AND/OR ARE KNOWN FOR:
Comic book writer of supernatural thriller Valentine, sci-noir Smoke/Ashes and gore-and-sex fest Grindhouse.
What are your favorite working tools?
A cold laptop and a warm, snoring pit bull. I write on my bed with my MacBook Pro on my lap and a snoozy old red dog cuddled against me. And if the story twists itself up into a big knot, I take a long walk in the woods with the dogs and, miraculously, everything untangles.
What talent would you most like to have?
To sing. I come from a long line of storytellers, people who can sit in bars or at a dinner table and spin a tale with their words and hands. But singing? Dear God, I will never be drunk enough for you to hear me sing. But someday, in my dreams, I would sing you the blues.
What do you consider your greatest achievement
Seriously? I’m a depressive. Some days, just combing my hair is an achievement that deserves the prostration of the five thousand.
If you could live anywhere, where would it be?
I’ve lived a lot of places. Hong Kong. Mexico City. Manila. London. Part of me misses London terribly, and part of me would be twenty-five again and on Lamma Island in Hong Kong, but I am also quite content in my piney fortress of solitude here in northern New England.
What is it that you most dislike?
Deliberate mediocrity. Fuck you, I love this stupid bastard art form. And whenever you say, “It’s probably good enough,” A FAIRY DIES. No, it is not good enough. It is NEVER good enough. Keep working as hard as you possibly can, and maybe, if you’re lucky, one day, you will approach the realm of “good enough.” You will see it, just over the horizon, with another thousand miles to walk between you and it. And you will stand there and realize, as tears course down your face, just how far you are from actually good. Because there are no small books. Only small creators.
Who are your heroes (fiction or non)?
Superman is my hero, because you reach a stage in life where no longer does the overriding ideal of vigilante justice make sense to you. You realize EVERYONE walks a hard road, and if you can just inspire others to be good, you have, perhaps, not won the war, but perhaps also there is no war, and all you need do is reach out in kindness to a friend. Also, Edward Albee is my hero, because he can have you on the edge of your fucking seat with a high concept that is basically “two couples, in a room, with booze.” Forget your moon invasions and your mutant superpowers. This man doesn’t need your outrageous tools to scare the living daylights out of the audience.
NAME: Alex de Campi
A SENTENCE ABOUT WHAT COMICS-RELATED WORK YOU DO AND/OR ARE KNOWN FOR:
Comic book writer of supernatural thriller Valentine, sci-noir Smoke/Ashes and gore-and-sex fest Grindhouse.
What are your favorite working tools?
A cold laptop and a warm, snoring pit bull. I write on my bed with my MacBook Pro on my lap and a snoozy old red dog cuddled against me. And if the story twists itself up into a big knot, I take a long walk in the woods with the dogs and, miraculously, everything untangles.
What talent would you most like to have?
To sing. I come from a long line of storytellers, people who can sit in bars or at a dinner table and spin a tale with their words and hands. But singing? Dear God, I will never be drunk enough for you to hear me sing. But someday, in my dreams, I would sing you the blues.
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Seriously? I’m a depressive. Some days, just combing my hair is an achievement that deserves the prostration of the five thousand.
If you could live anywhere, where would it be?
I’ve lived a lot of places. Hong Kong. Mexico City. Manila. London. Part of me misses London terribly, and part of me would be twenty-five again and on Lamma Island in Hong Kong, but I am also quite content in my piney fortress of solitude here in northern New England.
What is it that you most dislike?
Deliberate mediocrity. Fuck you, I love this stupid bastard art form. And whenever you say, “It’s probably good enough,” A FAIRY DIES. No, it is not good enough. It is NEVER good enough. Keep working as hard as you possibly can, and maybe, if you’re lucky, one day, you will approach the realm of “good enough.” You will see it, just over the horizon, with another thousand miles to walk between you and it. And you will stand there and realize, as tears course down your face, just how far you are from actually good. Because there are no small books. Only small creators.
Who are your heroes (fiction or non)?
Superman is my hero, because you reach a stage in life where no longer does the overriding ideal of vigilante justice make sense to you. You realize EVERYONE walks a hard road, and if you can just inspire others to be good, you have, perhaps, not won the war, but perhaps also there is no war, and all you need do is reach out in kindness to a friend. Also, Edward Albee is my hero, because he can have you on the edge of your fucking seat with a high concept that is basically “two couples, in a room, with booze.” Forget your moon invasions and your mutant superpowers. This man doesn’t need your outrageous tools to scare the living daylights out of the audience.
