THE SAILOR MAN (page one)

It took a few extra days to get this story finished up but Dev and I are fully locked and loaded.

My plan here is to post a new page every few days. I have to say, it's going to be a loooooong six days because I literally can't wait to post up page three. This is a story I've literally had in my head since I was in college about fifteen years ago. I changed it up a little to include our Frankenstein character but it's essentially the same and to see it finally brought to life so beautifully by Dev...I actually got misted eyed for a second.

Enough from me. Sit back and enjoy the awesomeness that is Dev Madan with a little something that we call...

The Sailor Man.

Original blog content

I'm going to try to do something a little different here over the next few weeks and post up some original work in a serialized form on the mighty blog.

My friend Dev and I, over the last couple of years, have produced a few short comic stories just for the fun of it. They're written by me with all the art and lettering (and sometimes gray tones) being done by Dev. Like I said, we do these off and on for fun. It's not commissioned work, it's not published work. It's just two friends who love comics being goofy.

The leading man of all of our little comics is Frankenstein. But for whatever reason (and I don't think either of us remember why anymore), Frankenstein is a private detective in these stories. He lives in a city called Monster Town, nursing a heart that was shattered when Bride of Frankenstein left him for the Wolf Man, and shambles around falling into adventures with other famous fictional characters. It's a strange little recipe for a comic but we like it--even if it doesn't always make a ton of sense.

At the moment, we're finishing up a new 12-page story, our personal Watchmen of Frankenstein stories. I should be writing the last two pages of that right now instead of sitting here blogging. Anyway, I think next week I'll start to serialize this new story and maybe post a new page every few days or so. Collect 'em all, kids!

Speaking of, after this one, we're going to produce an 8-pager and collect all the Frankenstein stories into one self-published comic. It'll be something cool to sell or give away at conventions and it'll be fun to have everything printed up in one book.

So if that sounds like your cup of tea, check back soon. And tell a friend!

Thanks for reading,
Keith

Woke up this morning

I woke up this morning having seen the season premiere of the Soprano's on HBO last night. It's been a long time since Tony and the crew have popped up fresh out of the oven and I was looking forward to catching up with the gang. I love the Soprano's to the point where I actually did quite a bit of clock watching yesterday, mentally counting down until the new episode aired.

I don't think it was great but I liked it quite a bit.

First of all, I like the way that the same amount of time passes in the Sopranos' Universe as does in ours. It's been a couple of years since the last season ended and that same amount of time has passed in the context of the show. I thought the show did a great job of very quickly and nimbly bringing the viewer up to speed on the major developments in the character's lives. Tony and Carmella are back together, having a pretty good time. Janice and Bobby have a fifteen month old baby. A.J. is in college. Meadow has abs now. The Feds are still closing in on Tony and it almost seems like every other mobster is now wearing a wire.

The main narrative thread of the episode was a mobster (Was his name Gino?) inheriting a couple of million dollars from his aunt and wanting to retire from the 'life' and move his wife and family down to Florida. Tony, who doesn't even care enough to tell the guy directly, passes on through Silvio that his request is denied and he isn't going anywhere.

The mobster, who is also an informant for the feds (and they won't let him leave either), being caught between a rock, a hard place, and his shrew of a wife, hangs himself to death in the garage.

Then the increasingly mentally diminished Uncle Junior mistakes Tony for a burglar and shoots him in the gut. Tony spends a few minutes trying to crawl across the floor to a phone, manages to call 911, then seemingly...dies. Pretty unexpected twist ending there, I liked it.

Of course, I don't think Tony is really dead. Maybe he'll be in a coma or something but I've already seen clips of him flirting with Julianna Margulies in a later episode so I'm sure he'll wake up eventually.

The show spent quite a bit of time on Gino and his desire to get out and start fresh. My suspicion is that when Tony gets out of the hospital, his brush with death will do the same for him. And even though the rules (Gino took a blood oath) prevented Gino from leaving, I wonder if those same rules will apply to Tony. Normally, Tony seems to hold himself to a different standard than everyone else so it would be an interesting avenue to explore.

Also, Janice totally has no love for her new baby. She's the reincarnation of she and Tony's mother, who didn't love her own kids. The cycle of abuse continues in the Soprano family.

I'm looking forward to watching this season unfold. It's off to a good start.

Dream analysis please

Now only partially remembered, it was a strange dream nonetheless.

I was in Japan, a member of an elite task force designed to fight to their deaths against...something. I can't remember what anymore but I know they were bad. And deadly. And they probably didn't smell so good either.

There was a drill sergeant attached to my group, a cantankerous old Clint Eastwood type except he had no eyes or, if he did, he kept them closed so tight that they might have fused shut. Every word out of his mouth was barked in stereotypical R. Lee Ermey, Full Metal Jacket style.

He and I, we didn't get along.

While the rest of the squad was out doing cool, elite task force stuff, I was confined to a small, cramped Japanese apartment and forced to engage my drill sergeant in a philosophical debate about life and violence and even love. I can't remember our verbal exchanges word for word but I was surprised at how smart and perceptive he was, in spite of his R. Lee Ermey exterior.

When the task force was finished task forcing for the day, they all returned to the apartment to take a load off and treat their wounds etc. Once they returned, I was ordered by my drill sergeant to leave. When I refused, he grabbed my collar and pushed me out the door.

I remember asking what was going on and why I had to leave.

His response? "Get out of here so we can watch the Soprano's."

Make of that what you will.

New York Comic Con...DISASTER!!

I hated the New York Comic Convention this past weekend.

Absolutely hated it.

I had high hopes for the show. I really would love to have a quality convention once a year within a few hours of home. It would be much more convenient and much less expensive than the airfare and a hotel room in San Diego, Chicago et al.

This show though...this show sucked.

I arrived at the Javitz Center around 4:00 on Friday afternoon to get my badge and walk the floor for a bit to get the lay of the land. There were a couple of impressive lines of people waiting to pick up their badges or register, depending on the line they happened to be standing in. As a professional appearing at the show, I'm accustomed to being able to find the professional booth, show my ID, and get my credentials with no fuss or no muss. Not so at the NYCC, where after asking around I quickly learned that professionals had been grouped in with online preregistrations. Annoyed, I waited in line for over an hour for a badge that at any other show in the world would have taken no more than five minutes to obtain.

Note to the convention staff: A great part of the reason people come to these shows is to meet the professional writers and artists. Most of us don't get paid to appear at your show, we do it as a way to network with other professionals and, more importantly, to provide a thank you to fans for shelling out their money for our work. You might want to put a little more thought into making our presence feel a little more appreciated. You are making money off of us, after all.

Once on the convention floor, I was quickly struck by how claustrophobic and cramped the hall was. The room was built to be long and narrow and the booths were not widely spaced apart, leaving thin 'halls' between them that already felt crowded, even with the room being only filled to about half capacity. It took all of fifteen minutes to get up and down every aisle, there was little to see.

Nonetheless, I enjoyed catching up with many aquaintances in the few hours I was there. Saturday though...Saturday was the nightmare.

When I arrived on Saturday, even though I already had my badge, I wasn't allowed into the hall. Instead, I was shunted into an enormous line of several thousand people waiting to get into the hall, all of them with their badges too. I tried to explain to the security guard that I was already late to my first signing of the day at the DC Comics booth fifteen feet behind him but he, obviously following orders and unable to think for himself, insisted that I go to the far end of the building to the end of the line with everybody else. The convention staff seemed to be unprepared for the fact that people actually showed up to their show and didn't know how to handle the turn out.

What started out as chaotic quickly got worse when, a couple of hours later the NYC fire marshall shut the show down because it was filled beyond capacity. No one was allowed in to the convention hall. If you left the floor, you weren't allowed back in. At one point, there was a line of seven thousand people waiting up to six hours to actually get into the show. It was ridiculous.

Meanwhile, on the inside of things, moving around was much like trying to swim through a can of sardines, complete with that delicious smell. Comic fans can be a gamey, sweaty lot at times. The narrow halls were basically shoulder to shoulder with people trying to move around. Foot traffic was slow and by mid afternoon, frustrated and annoyed, I basically decided I no longer wanted to be there. I packed up my things, grabbed my coat, and hit the door, tossing my badge into the trash as I went. Enough was enough, at least for me. I have better things to do and, after a three hour drive, made it home in time to put my son to bed.

Not that the weekend was a total waste. Friday evening, I enjoyed a fine meal with Firestorm editor Mike Siglain, writer Stuart Moore, and fellow artist Jamal Igle. I had never met Stuart of Jamal before and had a good time talking and getting to know both of them a little bit. It's always fun to trade war stories and hear different perspectives on this little business.

On Saturday, I also took a big step towards solidifying some writing work with another company. That should all get firmed up and started over the next couple of weeks. And I do enjoy meeting many of the fans who just want to say hi, chat about comics, and grab a sketch. That's what makes the show fun.

The rest of it though...what a waste.

New York Comic Con...assemble!

For anyone interested, I'll be appearing at the NY Comic Con this weekend (Well...part of Friday and all day Saturday) at the Javitz Center.

I don't know my exact signing schedule but the way things look, I'll be sketching and signing at the DC booth with the rest of the Firestorm creative team and I'll also be sitting at the ACROSS THE POND COMICS booth. ATP is the company that published Armor X and they're a fine group of people and a lot of fun at conventions. They've become sort of my own little convention family. Awww...ain't that sweet? Anyway, exact times are a mystery but that's where I'll be.

The strangest thing (to me) about the convention experience are the people who, for whatever reason, want to get their picture taken together. It doesn't happen super frequently but it always happens a couple of times at these shows. I think most of the time, they're not even aware of who I am or what I do. They just see a person behind a table and go from there.

Or maybe I just really am that darn pretty.

I have many aquaintances in New York that I suspect might be bopping around the convention. It will be interesting to see who I run into and should be fun to get up to date with friends that I've lost touch with, as well as get a chance to see closer friends I've kept in touch with.

For anyone reading the blog, hit me up with a secret handshake or something.

Keith

Jamal Igle: Rock Star part deux

The week kind of got away from so even though I inked this page on Monday, I haven't really had a chance to post the inked version until now. So without further adieu, thar she blows!

Basically, as an inker, when I work with a penciller who knows what he's doing (like Jamal), I pretty much try to stay out of the way. The goal is to bring out the best in the pencils and, like a doctor, the first rule is "Do No Harm."

I didn't quite get the results I wanted in every panel but I don't think I really hurt the art so I guess it's a decent page. I don't know...it can be hard as an artist not to see anything except for the missed opportunities.

As far as the inking thought processes that went into the work (aside from the basic foreground/middle ground/background separation), I generally tried to give the muscular guy a stronger contour and make him a little more harder edged. I attempted to keep the pretty girl's contour softer and more rounded. It's a very subtle change in line quality but I think it helped to provide a physical contrast that matches the contrast in their personalities.

When inking the girl, I held the brush higher up on the handle (about halfway up the brush like a Japanese Calligrapher) and with a slightly looser grip to give the linework more bounce, to make it more playful. Gripping tightly at the base adds control to the line but eliminates a little spontaneity in the linework. I wanted her contours to match her personality, which is perky and unpredictable. I tried to add some variety of weights, gradating from thick to thin even to the stripe pattern on her shirt to give everything about her more life.

Anyway, these are examples of the subtle little touches that inkers think about that no one ever really notices or cares about. It's not about tracing, even if you're staying very faithful to the pencilled work. It's about thinking through and living in the line, if that makes any sense. Zen inking, I guess. While the result ratio is mixed on every page, it's better to try and fail than to not think at all.

Except on a tight deadline when you say "screw it!" and just crank the pages out like a machine.

Actual working time on this page was a bit less than 5 hours inking time and about fifteen minutes of erasing and touch up work. I also inked the first panel entirely in nib to give myself a change of pace and stay focused. Shaking things up like that can be good mentally.

The file itself is a low rez jpeg, hence the broken line and poorer quality reproduction. Hopefully, anyone reading can still get the idea.

Thanks for reading,

Keith

A quick burst of pimp action

For anyone interested in checking them out, here are links to a couple of things I've been enjoying lately.

Tom Nguyen is a fellow inker and friend of mine. His linework has graced many fine comics, usually in tandem with penciller Doug Mahnke, usually for DC Comics. The lucky little bastard has also inked John Byrne, something I've yet to manuever my way into doing.

Anyway, he's also a talented penciller and has recently begun writing an online column for The Pulse that basically is going to point out all the horrible art in comics and explain why it's bad. It's a ballsy move; it's not considered proper etiquette to rip apart your peers in a public forum but Tom doesn't care. He's lonely, he's desperate for attention, he's got strong opinions about what makes good art, and he's going to share his POV with the world. Here's the link to his column which is called, "I draw the line." It's good stuff and it's only going to get uglier as he goes. Luckily, Tom is a champion bodybuilder so most people with an axe to grind will be afraid to come after him.

http://www.comicon.com/pulse/

Secondly, another friend of mine, the multi-talented Charlie Lagreca, has a podcast centering on independent comics that is getting to be hugely popular. Charlie, or Chimpy as I call him, is a cartoonist (he's published in Disney Adventures every month) and entertainer. His comedy troupe, Minimum Wage, is wildly popular in NYC and they travel almost constantly all over the country performing. At least, I think they do because that's how I rationalize the fact that he never answers his phone when I call.

I've listened to a few of his podcasts (under the nomme du broadcast Chucky Maggregor) with partner Mr. Phil and I love his show. They're well worth the time.

http://www.indiespinnerrack.blogspot.com/



I know cool people.

Keith

Jamal Igle: Rock Star

It's been a while since I posted anything comic related on the blog. Seeing as most of the people that read this are comic fans, that's probably not a good idea on my part. Comic fans that feel neglected are a dangerous lot, especially when they're dressed as Wonder Woman or a Klingon.

Anyway, this is a page of Jamal Igle's pencils from Firestorm #25. I hope I don't get in trouble for posting it, I can't see how it could possibly give up any spoilers to the issue or anything but it's a good example of what I think makes Jamal's pencils so great: Good basic storytelling.

The script for this issue called for a nine panel grid on this page, meaning nine panels of the same size and shape. It limits the layout possibilities for the page, you're tied into that format and it's not the most exciting page layout in the world. I actually like the grid quite a bit, I think it can be used to great effect but at the same time...it's very rigid and unforgiving.

Strike two on this page is that nothing is really happening. It's a scene between Firestorm's father (Alvin) and his girlfriend (can't think of her name, is it Gemma?) sitting and watching a news report and having a conversation. The script is very static visually, there's just nothing exciting happening. Actually, that's not true. To be fair, it's a character building scene and it's very cutely written. But from a visual standpoint, those aren't always the most exciting scenes to look at.

Strike three never crosses the plate on this page because Jamal saves it with a mighty swing of his pencil. His use of body language, expressions, choice of angles for each panel, and plain, old fashioned good drawing skill makes it a much more interesting page than the mental image I got while reading the script.

This is my third full issue over Jamal and, now that my commitment to also inking Batman is finished, I'm able to really devote myself to his pencils. I'm having a great time with his stuff and I feel like I'm really starting to understand how to bring out the best in his art. I don't have an overpowering ink style. Some guys feel the need to impose their own sensibilities over the pencil art. I actively try to remain as invisible as possible and I think I'm slowly starting to understand how to let the best of Jamal's work shine through without getting in the way.

This is on my plate to ink early next week. I'll post my inks for comparison when they're done.

Thanks for reading,
Keith

Basic Instinct 2: Electric Boogaloo

I watched the online teaser/preview for Basic Instinct 2 this afternoon and I've gotta say...there's nothing subtle about the marketing plan for this one. They should have just called it "Sharon Stone's Softcore Porn extravaganza."

I was surprised to see so much naked Sharon Stone in the preview because, normally, there's not much full frontal going on in teaser trailers. I would guess there's not much story to be found in the film and they're trying to hide that fact behind 50 year old fake tits.

And I think that's where the movie is going to have a problem or two. Sharon Stone is in great shape for her age but let's face it: She's pushing 50. Personally, if I see her running around naked in a movie now, my first reaction isn't to crane my neck and check her out. The first thought that pops in my head is "There's something you don't see everyday: A naked 50 year old crotch shot."

It sort of loses something but then again, watch the movie be brilliant and win all sorts of awards next year. That'll show how much I know.

The really sad thing is I'll probably buy a ticket just to see what kind of train wreck the movie is.

A happy little clam

Today, I received the first royalty check from my writing stint on JSA. It was substantially more than I was expecting so I did something I very rarely do with money these days: I irresponsibly wasted a good chunk of it. Don't get me wrong, some of it was tucked into savings but the rest was squandered on the sweet new laptop computer I'm typing this on.

On my couch. In my living room. Via wireless connection.

I feel like a king.

Weird how a new toy can do that, can give a person a feeling of accomplishment or pride. I mean, really, it's just a stupid box with a screen on it that my wife is going to use for schoolwork or I will write and email from. But it's also something that I've secretly wanted for a while but could never really justify as an expense. Because it's not something I needed, it was just something I wanted and being a one income family, that's not enough of a reason to buy something anymore.

I'm trying hard not to feel guilty because there are easily 5600 more responsible ways I could have used that money. At the same time, I'm also trying to justify my purchase with the rationale that I work damn hard and damn long and there's nothing wrong with rewarding oneself once in a great while. I'm soothing myself with the idea that there will be two more royalty checks in the next couple of months and I'll be more responsible with those.

But mostly I'm just relaxing with my feet up before I go to bed.

Coming soon...

The blog has been on a bit of a hiatus over the past month or so, unintentionally. My work schedule is going to ease up drastically in a few more days and, without a seemingly daily deadline looming over me for a bit, I'm looking forward to tackling a laundry list of topics I've compiled.

Check back soon, thanks.

Keith

Welcome to the Island of Sodor

When you have a two year old, one often finds oneself watching programs and buying DVD's that might very well not be to one's own taste, but rather to the tastes of said child.

Which is why, these days, I'm living in the world of Thomas the Tank Engine and his various friends, be they steamie or diesel. My son seems fascinated and, dare I say, enchanted by the adventures of the intrepid Thomas. Over and Over and Over and Over again, they just never seem to get old. To him, anyway.

Gotta say...if I actually lived on the island of Sodor, unless I was suicidal there is no way in Hell I'd ever step foot on a train. First of all, they're all alive which is pretty freaky when you think about it. You've got a mischievous train and a vain train and a creaky old train and don't even get me started on the diesels. Those guys are dicks.

More importantly, it seems to me that taking a train ride around that island is akin to taking one's life into his or her own hands. I've never seen more derailments or landslides or trains crashing into each other or avalanches or pretty much any other dangerous situation, up to and including being pelted by giant dead fish. If you ask me, there should be a federal investigation and good ol' Sir Top'emhat should be replaced by an actual civil engineer with some sort of job competence. His entire public transportation system is on the verge of perpetual collapse.

Get in your cars and drive, good people of Sodor.

Before it's too late.

Bits and Pieces

Well, it's been a pretty long time since I've updated the blog, over a week now and some spare change. I'm honestly busier than I ever have been right now with Batman and Firestorm. Batman especially is a deadline nightmare; we started way behind schedule and have been playing catch up since day one. Even now, I'm typing this while taking a break from working at 9:30 on a Saturday night. I can still remember the good old days, way, way back in 2005, when Saturday nights were built for fun. Or whatever passes for fun when you're in your mid thirties.

I've been trying to think of a way to get more people to post comments here. And yes, I do realize the easiest way would be to write something interesting here instead of the usual drivel, no need to mention that. I know there are well over a thousand people that read this blog so it might be fun to get more of a discussion going. I was thinking of maybe having a contest or something along those lines, if anyone has any ideas...post them.

Bits and Pieces...

The Pride New Year's Eve card was decent although a few fights I was interested in seeing were edited off the card because of time constraints. I particularly wanted to check out the Alexander Emelianenko/Pawel Nastula fight which I've read after the fact was a barnburner. I was glad to see Sakuraba win again, his second in a row but man...he looked like he was half asleep. Where'd the lightning fast Sakuraba of a few years ago disappear to?

The movie Munich was good but not great. I have trouble rooting for a guy running around killing people unless that guys' name is Arnold Schwarzenneger, dammit!

Thanks to the boys for trekking out here for a fun night out. Good friends, good company.

Back soon with something interesting...I hope.
Keith

KONG!

With the madness of the holidays fading into the realm of ever-more-distant memory by the day, my wife and I finally had a chance to go out last night to see King Kong.

I loved much about it but three hours and some spare change later was very ready to leave the theater.

In particular, Kong himself was great: savage yet noble, ferocious yet tender, completely CGI yet also completely realistic. Same goes for the various dinosaurs and bats and giant insects and millions of other creatures on Skull Island.

Also particularly good was Naomi Watts although I thought her character was a terrific pain in the ass. She was brave and had a lot of heart, sure...but she kept perpetually getting herself into danger. I actually thought Kong was too good for her. After about her six millionth time trying to escape, he should have let her go and stopped saving her from whatever creature was trying to eat her next. It would have made his life much easier (and longer) if he had been a little less selfless and worried a little more about himself.

Jack Black was OK, his character was unlikeable but he restrained himself from going completely over the top. It would have been cool if Kong stomped him into a puddle at some point. Adrien Brody is lost on me. I know he won an Oscar for that Nazi movie I never saw (I don't watch movies by Woody Allen or Roman Polanski) but he's a weird looking guy, all sharp angles with beady eyes. It's distracting to me. I would have liked his character better if he started out as more of a coward and overcame his fears (and came into his own) in order to save Naomi Watts on Skull Island.

I also think that because we all know how the movie is going to end before it even starts, the movie loses a little something. No matter how magnificent Kong is, knowing he's going to end up as bullet-riddled street pizza takes a little tension out of the whole ball of wax.

As long as Kong is, running time wise, I thought it was missing out on a few story beats. I hope there's a director's cut coming on DVD at some time, I think it could have used another 45 minutes to fill in some blanks. Like Narnia, I felt that it put the relationships out there but didn't necessarily earn them. Meaning much of the heart of the film felt flat to me. I wasn't swept away in the story, I admired it from a distance.

Kong though...Kong is the man. You will definitely believe that a giant gorilla can fight dinosaurs, get chloroformed, reluctantly star in a broadway show and fall to his tragic death. All because he fell in love with the girl from The Ring.

Thanks for reading,
Keith

Superboy

Being overwhelmingly swamped with work and holiday preparations, I decided to post another old comic book pitch onto the blog because it's faster and easier than thinking of something semi-interesting to write.

Back in 2001, DC Comics was looking for a new direction for their Superboy comic. At the time, I was the inker on the book and was pretty up to date with the continuity. A different editor at DC, one that I'm friendly with, helpfully suggested that I try to enlist a co-writer and pitch something together so that I'd have a chance to be taken more seriously.

Geoff Johns, who at the time was still cutting his teeth in comics, agreed to pitch something with me. I remember we had a few conversations on the phone and then I went off and wrote this, Geoff thought it was good to go, and we threw it to the Superboy editor.

It all amounted to a hill of beans. Even having Geoff on board, the pitch was never even read by the Superboy editor. The book was given to the writing due of Jimmy Palmiotti and Dan Didio (whatever happened to that guy, anyway?), I was fired off the book to make room for a new art team, and the rest is history.

However, this pitch is noteworthy because it contains ONE BIG ASS IDEA. Luckily, Geoff was eventually able to put it into play elsewhere and it's become an important story in the context of the DC Universe.

Enjoy and Happy Holidays. Catch you on the flipside of Christmas.

SUPERBOY: THE FAMILY TREE
Prestige one shot
By
Keith Champagne and Geoff Johns
5-23-01
With the 100th issue of SUPERBOY fast approaching, the timing couldn’t be better to shake things up for Superboy. To redefine the character in a way which opens up intriguing new possibilities and directions for future creative teams to explore.

SUPERBOY: THE FAMILY TREE is a story that will make fundamental changes to the character of Superboy; changes that will make him the black sheep of the SUPERMAN family, adding a layer of tension to his relationship with Superman. Changes that will force Kon-El to reevaluate the way he thinks of himself, giving him a long-term inner conflict to resolve, as well as an immediate goal to accomplish.

CHARACTERS
SUPERBOY- For years, Kon-El has known that he’s an amalgam of Superman and Paul Westfield, a mixture of Kryptonian and human DNA. Superboy has long ago come to terms with the fact that he’s cloned from an evil man. He’s overcome his genetically tainted beginnings and established himself as a first rate hero in the DC Universe.
Or so he thinks…

AMANDA SPENCE- last seen explosively decompressing in space, Amanda is back with a vengeance. She’s come up with an ingenious plan to bring her father, Paul Westfield, back to life; a plan that will turn Superboy’s world upside down.

DEATHSTROKE THE TERMINATOR- The deadliest mercenary in the DC Universe has just been hired to capture Superboy. He doesn’t plan to fail.

ARMAGEDDON- cloned by Amanda Spence when her plan for Superboy goes awry, Armageddon is also an amalgam of Kryptonian and human DNA. In this case, a teenager created from the DNA of DOOMSDAY and LEX LUTHOR, implanted with the mind and memories of Paul Westfield.

LEX LUTHOR- what secret connection does an unsuspecting Lex share with Superboy?

(I've deleted an additional character name/potential wrinkle here in case Geoff ever decides to use it in Titans)

STORY
Amanda Spence has an idea: if Superboy was cloned using her Father’s DNA, she, in turn, could clone her father using Superboy’s DNA. In fact, the same memory implant and accelerated growth technology featured in the ‘Our World’s at War’ storyline would make it a breeze to restore her father to life.

Amanda hires Deathstroke the Terminator to capture Superboy, and for once, the deadliest mercenary in the DCU actually completes a job successfully. Having acquired Superboy, Spence sets her plan in motion. She culls Westfield’s DNA from The Kid’s human/kryptonian mix and begins to grow herself a new father.

Imagine the surprise of everyone involved when, after accelerating the new Westfield’s growth a few years, she realizes that the clone looks nothing at all like her father. There’s only one possible answer: Superboy wasn’t actually cloned from Westfield.

Superboy takes advantage of the resulting confusion to escape, but he’s left with one gigantic question: Whom is he really cloned from?

Kon-El enlists Serling Roquette to help him find out. Together, they confront the one man who may be able to provide answers: Dabney Donovan. The insane geneticist taunts Superboy with a list of names he may have been created from: Guardian, Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, Hal Jordan, or The Joker. Donovan also drops an additional bomb: (Deleted plot point here, sorry.)

In the meantime, a distraught Amanda Spence searches through her father’s belongings, desperately trying to find anything that will help salvage her ruined plans. What she finds is a vial containing a scrap of bone belonging to Doomsday. Her twisted mind quickly forms a plan to kill Superboy once and for all.

Superboy and Roquette are on the move. They travel around the DCU, obtaining and testing DNA samples of the various suspects. Some, like Guardian, are easy. Others, like The Joker, are terrifying. Still others, like Lex Luthor, are almost impossible. Nevertheless, one by one the various suspects are eliminated until only two remain: Lex and Bruce Wayne.

Simultaneously, Amanda Spence has completed her newest creation. She’s combined Doomsday’s DNA with the cell sample she culled from Superboy, creating a being she’s named Armageddon. On top of that, she’s implanted her father’s warped mind and memories into Armageddon, bringing Westfield back to life in a new, incredibly powerful body.

Serling performs the last two tests while Superboy anxiously awaits the results, which is when Armageddon chooses to strike. Kon-El is completely overwhelmed and outmatched. Ironically, it’s only the DNA results that save Superboy’s life. When the test confirms that Superboy was cloned from Luthor, Armageddon chooses to let Kon-El live, to suffer before being put out of his misery.

Superboy is rocked by the information. Westfield was a minnow compared to a shark like Luthor. How will Superman react, and is there any hope for Kon-El to grow into a hero when at his core, he may be evil through and through?

A few days later, a nervous Superboy meets with Luthor. Throughout their conversation, Kon-El desperately searches for a shred of decency in Lex; even the smallest bit of good in Luthor’s black soul would give Superboy hope that, possibly, Lex’s evil wouldn’t taint him.

Finding none, Superboy chooses not to disclose his secret to Luthor. Instead, he begins to search for (deleted), who may be his only hope for salvation.

The next Brad Pitt?

Someone...ANYONE...tell me my boy isn't a future movie star.

Critical Response

While on my lunchbreak, I thought I'd take a few minutes to respond to some of the feedback I've read about JSA #80. As I've said in interviews all along, whether you liked or hated this arc, it was all my fault so I'll take the blame and throw my two cents into the hat.

The first two issues of JSA that I wrote were remarkably well-received. The third has been pretty much split down the middle with most of the negative comments revolving around the deaths of the characters of Hector and Lyta, otherwise known as Dr. Fate and his wife, Fury.

As some people have speculated, their deaths were indeed editorially mandated. I believe there are big things coming up for the character of Dr. Fate during and after all this Crisis business and, unfortunately, as a direct result Hector and Lyta became expendable. While their deaths were inevitable, the manner in which they died were left up to me.

That's where most people seem to feel the ball was dropped. People aren't happy that the two were written off so quickly and in such a minor fashion; that Lyta and especially Hector, one of the integral characters of the series, deserved a better end than what they got.

And you know what? You're right. They did deserve better. They deserved a whole six-issue story where they could have gone out in a blaze of glory. What they got was a 4-page subplot spread out over 66 pages of story.

Climb aboard my rocket ship and let me take you back in time a few months, let's say...mid summer.

I'm hip deep in plotting out two major storylines for this arc: Dr. Fate's last battle with Mordru (not my choice for villain but I had a lot of fun with him) and Jakeem's misadventure in the Fifth dimension. Either one is enough to carry three issues of story on their own so doing both plotlines justice is going to be tricky. All told, I've got 66 pages of story to workwith and a ton of plot points and character beats I'm stitching together to form the story. On top of that, it's a little nerve wracking stepping onto a book so intricately linked with THE MOST POPULAR WRITER IN COMICS TODAY. Not that I ever have but I'd imagine it's like dating a girl when her last boyfriend was a porn star.

But...no problem. I'm more excited than anything else and having a great time putting things together. I'm even pushing at this point to try to get John Byrne to pencil these issues as an extra treat. As an aside, I couldn't be happier that Don instead chose to come back to the book to draw these issues, it was a great swan song for both of us and he did an amazing job.

My phone rings and I'm told that, by the way, Hector and Lyta need to die and Fate needs to evolve into the Kingdom Come, Nabu version of the character by the end of the story. I think to myself, "Cool! That's one way to make sure my storyline doesn't get lost in the shuffle."

I start to put some ideas together, take a look at the clock and realize that it's problem time. Because I don't have any extra pages allotted to do it. This story is already packed to the gills.

So I did the best that I could, which was to cut four pages from Jakeem's storyline and give them over to Hector and Lyta. Maybe if I was a better, more experienced writer I could have come up with something better. Personally though, I firmly believe thatI should get an Eisner for managing to get the job done with only four pages to work with. On top of that, I snuck in a cameo by Dream and even left the death scene open enough that, although I was told Hector and Lyta were being written out permanently, there was still an untold story there. Their bodies are still out there, preserved in the snow, so maybe they'll cheat death in some way or form eventually. Not to give any die hard Hector and Lyta fans false hope but I even got an email from Geoff Johns the other day saying the same thing.

It's comics, after all. Anything can happen and eventually...usually does.

The other main criticism I've heard is that people were left wondering how Johnny Thunder, who died a while back, now seems to live again in the Fifth Dimension. Well...I guess we all know what ground those four extra pages would have covered now, don't we?

That's not entirely true. I originally was going to give Johnny Thunder a much larger role in this story, to the point where I even cliffhangered the first issue on his surprise appearance. As I wrote the second issue, though...I changed my mind. For a dead guy, I got to thinking that Johnny had been in the book an awful lot lately and I cut him way, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back. It wasn't his story, it was Jakeem and the Thunderbolt's.

As far as how he's alive in the Fifth Dimension in the first place...who says he's alive? I have a theory about The Thunderbolt and Johnny Thunder but I'm not going to share it publically because I hope to use it as some point in the future, maybe in a Classified arc. This crackpot theory of mine explains why, after he died, did Johnny seem to temporarily merge with the Thunderbolt (who then reverted back to his original form over the next several issues) and also explores other characters, like Saradin, who had wielded the Thunderbolt's power and were also present in the Fifth Dimension.

I'll give you a hint in the form of a dialogue exchange I left on the cutting room floor. In the spirit of Christmas or whatever.


JAKEEM: Johnny? We've got room for one more. You coming home?
JOHNNY THUNDER: Thanks, Jakeem...but if you ask me, it sure does look an awful lot like HEAVEN around here.
JOHNNY THUNDER: You'll see...someday.


On that note, I've got pages waiting to be inked and a life waiting to be lived. Thanks to everyone for all the message board posts, private messages and emails. For three months, I felt like the King of the Prom.

Thanks for reading.
Keith

Aeon Flux

Haven't had much time for blogging over the past week, give or take a couple of days. I actually have a little list of topics to eventually get to, covering a variety of different topics, everything from movies to comics to profiles of people I admire to life to Gracie Jiu Jitsu, just to name a few.

I slipped out a few nights ago to see Aeon Flux at the local theater. I vaguely remember the cartoon from a while back. I only saw it a few times but from what I recall, it was ugly and made little sense. But I figured it was better than Harry Potter (how many movies will it take before those kids learn how to act?) so it became my flick of choice, almost by default.

Armed with my box of goobers and diet coke (a mistake by the concession girl, I never drink diet soda but I didn't feel like getting back in line to complain. Actually, there was no line, I wanted to sit down in time to see the previews), I settled into my seat and basked in the glory.

Or lack thereof. I can't really say.

Aeon Flux may be a fantastic movie, I really wouldn't know. Within about twenty minutes, I was so bored I fell asleep and slept through the bulk of it, waking up for about the last five minutes. According to some reviews I later read, I didn't miss much but...y'know, always take those reviews with a grain of salt and form your own opinions.

Between the tickets and snacks, it was a fifteen dollar nap. Good thing comic book artists make millions of dollars a year!

Also, I think I liked Charlize Theron more before she played that serial killer. There's something about taking a pretty girl and uglying them up for a role that just...takes away from that beauty. In the back of my mind, when I look at her now I feel like I got a glimpse of what she's going to look like in twenty years after she lets herself go and spends a little time in rehab. It's not a pretty picture.

There's a lesson in here somewhere but I'm not sure if I can find it. Maybe it's don't gain weight for a role unless your last name is Deniro. Or maybe it's that bad cartoons make bad movies. Or maybe it's to take my opinion with a grain of salt and form your own.

Or maybe it's all of the above.

Keith

JSA #80 preview

Well, it's almost that time again so here's the solicitation copy for JSA #80, shipping on December 7th. Instead of pasting in the Alex Ross cover, I scanned in page two from the issue. It doesn't spoil anything so I hope I don't get yelled at for doing so.

Written by Keith Champagne
Art by Don Kramer and Champagne

The final battle between Mordru and Dr. Fate rages to its shocking conclusion through the worlds of Kingdom Come and JUSTICE LEAGUE: THE NAIL! Plus, the Thunderbolt vs. Jakeem to decide the ultimate fate of the Fifth Dimension! After this issue, two members of the JSA will never be seen again!

There's been a lot of speculation and some interesting theories as to which two members of the cast aren't getting out alive. Every character is somebody's favorite so apologies in advance to whoever liked these two the most.

If I was going to pretend to be psychic, I would predict that the comment I will most stumble across in reviews for this issue is that it feels like I crammed a four-part story into three parts. I don't think another whole issue was needed (although I wouldn't have complained at the extra paycheck) but I definitely could have used five more pages of story to open things up visually for Don Kramer and include some character beats that were left on the cutting room floor. Ultimately, though...I'm happy with this issue and the story arc in general. Like I wrote last month, it's not going to cure cancer but I think it's a good, solid funny book.

As most people know, this is my last issue of JSA in any capacity and the book moves into new and exciting hands in the coming months. Going out with this issue is about as good a swan song as one can get, I think. I'll miss this group of characters.

Hope everyone enjoys reading the damn thing half as much as I did writing it. The pleasure was all mine.

Thanks for reading,
Keith