And as his Deadvision takes over, Max gets some helpful spectral intervention once again!

I have to say, these black-border pages look so cool the temptation (as the writer) is to demand that all the pages have black borders, but no, better to permit the artist to judiciously reserve them for moments of significance.

Besides, who on earth listens to a writer?






Our home is located in an area that is probably familiar to anyone who has seen the classic Republic serials, because they were, for the most part, shot here.  It is red dirt and scrub and oak trees and rather neat sandstone formations, with lots of trails. It is the whole Wild West of the 1950s era, all conveniently condensed into a few square miles. It makes for a nice place to hike, and so I do, almost every morning.  In fact, it has become so routine that the other day, as I was coming down out of the hills, it hit me.

I didn’t remember anything.

I didn’t remember waking up, or putting my clothes on, or heading to the trail, or hiking the two miles through the hills.  The very last thing I clearly remembered was going to bed the night before.  I was tired and dusty, so obviously I had done the hike, but as far as my memory was concerned, I had done the entire thing in my sleep.

did remember trying to organize things in my brain though.  As other people have said, one of the drawbacks of being self-employed is that no one is telling you what to do, so in order to get anything actually done, you have to keep in top of it yourself. With four websites to keep track of, and trying to generate content for same, plus other side projects, the mind tends to retreat back into itself, sorting and reorganizing mental priorities.

Currently, I’m also doing a temp gig as part of a development team for a toy company product, and while the work has its own difficulties, the tasks themselves are pretty clear.   I attend meetings, I make notes, get instructions, and go off and do what people have told me to do. Rinse and repeat. All things considered, the workflow is pretty clear, and once I’ve turned in the latest draft, I can forget about it until the next meeting.

My wife works extremely hard as an artist for Disney. Sometimes she puts in long hours, and they constantly move up her deadlines and make endless changes. She had to learn to make the transition from drawing with a pencil on paper to drawing with a stylus on a Cintique in ToonBoom, with a resulting toll on her eyes and shoulder. But I am fairly sure that when she leaves the office, she leaves the job behind. She doesn’t spend her time in the shower working out scenarios in her head like I do.

Believe me, I’m not complaining. I like doing what I do. But everything about it keeps changing, and any time I’m not actually working I feel guilty. Nothing’s ever really finished; it’s all just an ongoing process, and you are constantly blindsided by sudden changes or updates in the programs or services or formats that you use. So I guess it’s no wonder that I keep finding myself in rooms with no recollection of what I came in there for.

At least, that’s what I try to tell myself, anyway.

So if you can, do us a small solid and hit that Vote button for Top Webcomic, or Like us on that Allies button on Facebook up there, or Add us to your Comic Rocket or Ink Outbreak or Piperka or Belfrey list.   And for those that already have — thanks! It shows up in the stats and helps give a little more grip on reality.

It’s supposed to be a nice day tomorrow. I’d like to remember at least part of the hike.

— Bob  (spaced) out