So, Emerald City went very well, indeed. As always, a great show, lots of wonderful people, and a chance to reconnect with folks that I haven't seen in a while. The fans, as always, were uniformly pleasant and excited -- there seems to be a lot of anticipation for the "Gotham Central reunion" that'll be the four issues of Daredevil I'm doing with Ed and Michael.

On a business end it went well, too, though, again, I'm embargoed on what I can, and can't, talk about. Looks like a new project got locked down, which is good. Most likely that'll see print in early '09, maybe February. I have to admit that I'm getting a little frustrated about not being able to share the things I'm working on. Only a few more months until several of the cats I've been hoarding get to leave their respective bags.

Of the many highlights for me, though, was finally getting to meet Philip Tan in person. Up until now, we've been communicating on the phone and via email, so it was great to finally be face-to-face. He confirmed my worst suspicions: not only is he frighteningly talented, it turns out he's really, really, really nice. He's also incredibly enthusiastic, which is even better -- when the artist is charged up about the project, it's infectious. Philip was also kind enough to do the first sketch in my new "Question-themed" sketchbook. ( I think it came out pretty damn well. )

Saw Southworth and his terrific lady, Michelle. The Stumptown pages are really cooking. I feel bad for the workload we've put him under; you do work-for-hire, you're already dealing with established characters, for the most part, reference readily available. Matthew's got to invent everything from scratch, and especially with the first couple issues, that means designing and detailing not only the regular cast, but also all of the regular sets. He's got an attention to detail that's terrific, and that I think will serve the book very well, indeed. He, James Lucas, and I, got to talk a little bit, and we're pushing back the launch to October. Better that we have everything ready than to rush it, we agreed, and frankly, none of us wants the book coming out with the delays I caused on Queen & Country. Flip-side is that Matthew and I are going to try to work on an eight-pager for distribution at San Diego, along with some other promotional material.

And I got to see Lieber's art for issue one of Whiteout: Night, though only briefly. The irony in having to go to a con in Seattle to see what he's been working on didn't escape either of us, but we're both so damn busy here, we barely have a chance to connect. We've resolved to change that. So I suppose I ought to call him, huh? I'm always amazed looking at Steve's work; there's such an effortlessness to his detail and character, and I know he puts hours in to make it appear so, but the effect is striking.

I'm grinding away on three different scripts this week, trying to get them all squared away before returning to the novel. Had a come-to-Jesus with my editor and agent last week, after sending off the first 35K words or so, and my editor was effusive (though she's yet to receive pages from me an say "this is utter crap", so I take it with a grain of salt). Looks like we're on the right track. I'd rather have sent the whole manuscript, to be frank, but as I was toying with a somewhat radical (or at least, from Bantam's end, unexpected) change in style, both David and I felt Kate needed fair warning. Turns out it was a wise move, but she's for it, which makes moving forward easier. I'll resume the keyboard punching in earnest early next week, I suspect, once research for this new section is completed.

And now...work.

Headed up to Seattle tomorrow for the Emerald City ComicCon. I'll be at a table with Jen and mercuryeric. I'll have some books to sell, stories to tell, and if it goes well, all will be swell.

I'm very sorry about that last sentence, and I beg your immediate forgiveness.

There's a DC Nation panel on Saturday, from 1 to 2 pm in "Panel Room A," which I suspect I'll be asked to sit on. Dan DiDio is out for the show this year, so if nothing else, he'll be endlessly entertaining as he frustrates fans. As for my part, I've actually got no idea if I'll be up there, because just about everything I'm doing for DC is still under information embargo at the moment, which inevitably leads to me repeating, over and over again, "I can't answer that." So maybe I'll be the one who's endlessly frustrating.

Oni Press will be well-represented at the show, as well, and Sunday from 11 to 12, again in "Panel Room A," they'll be having their Quiz Show. Apparently, I'm on that as well, along with Scott Pilgrim creator Bryan Lee O'Malley, and Jennfer Van Meter, who, for those of you who still haven't figured it out, is the same Jen from Paragraph One, above. Bryan's very talented wife, Hope Larson, will be at the show, as well.

I like this show; Jim Demonakos has done a terrific job with it, and it's one of my favorite of the circuit, one of the few I actually get excited about attending every year. The Portland Crowd tends to be pretty thick in attendance, as well, including most -- if not all -- of the Periscope Studio crew. I'll also get to see Matthew Southworth, which is great, because Stumptown is inching its way ever-closer to a release; we're hoping for the first issue in September.

Work is continuing apace. The novel has reached a crossroads. Should know which direction I'm taking it in the next two days, and once that's decided, then it's just a matter of typing the draft as fast as I can. I'm running about two weeks behind (according to my personal schedule), and I'm eager to make it up, as other work (primarily comics works) is back-burnered for the time being.

Philip Tan -- who will also be at the show this weekend! -- is continuing to deliver amazing pages on FC:R. I get leery of posting stuff without permission, but if you've checked out his blog, you can see some of his work-in-progress.

So, this story has been slowly escalating over the last week. Abkhazia, South Ossetia, and this...I'm really hoping I won't have to tag a disclaimer on the new novel saying "This was before the war."

And in entertainment news, the new Bond film is having consistent car trouble.

I'm leaving for Calgary at oh-dark-thirty tomorrow morning, to attend the Calgary Comic Expo. I've heard nothing but good things about this show from everyone I know who's ever attended it, and I'm quite looking forward to it. Hoping to score some Avatar: The Last Airbender swag for the kids, maybe a sketch or two.

Of course, this means I'll be missing the Stumptown Comics Fest for the second year in a row, which means, once more, I'll be out of town while Matthew Southworth is actually here. I'm getting a little worried that he thinks I'm avoiding him.

Last note -- Checkmate chat with meself and mercuryeric at ComicBloc tonight, don't forget!

I'm sitting in the "recharge zone" at McCarran airport, waiting for my flight. It's been delayed, presumably due to weather in Portland.

I've been sitting here for an hour already, which, I suppose, isn't as bad as all that. I'm frankly more annoyed at the thought of getting home at 2 in the morning, and having to be up and out with the kids by 8. But that's as may be, and certainly nothing I can control.

The Comics Fest was, by all accounts, a rousing success. Andrew Kaplan, responsible for organizing the whole shebang, told me they'd expected 500 hundred people and hoped, optimistically, that there might be as many as 1000 who showed up. There were 1000 who showed up.

Very nice time, very nice people. If the worst that this trip offers is a delay getting home, I've really got nothing to complain about.

Edited at 02:28 am, Sunday morning, to add:

Home. Wired for sound. Scotch in hand.

Took these pictures of the Monte Carlo Hotel, when I arrived on Friday, as the cab was taking me to my hotel. Post the fire, obviously, but I thought I'd share, for those interested in casino-hotels that catch on fire. ( Pictures below the cut! )

Odd week. Lots of pre-writing work. Read all of Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass for reference, and the frustrating thing is that I can't even tell you why I did this, nor can I show you any of the fantastic art that's been coming in on the nameless project.

See, if I'm going to be frustrating, at least I have the courtesy of being consistently annoying.

Leaving for Vegas in a couple of hours. The piece that I mentioned being interviewed for is up, should anyone be curious. I'm quite looking forward to the Comics Fest, even if the trip will be a short one--arrive today, depart tomorrow night. That's hardly enough time to enjoy Vegas.

Looks like several other projects all took steps forward this week, as well, some large, some small. At least one of them I'll get to start writing next week, after I finish the next issue of Stumptown.

Hope everyone has a good weekend!

1:00 - Creative Perspectives on Exploring Graphic Novels
Learn about the diversity of genres and stories to be found in graphic novels from the people who create them. (Greg Rucka, Jimmy Gownley, Steven Grant, Josh Elder, Chris Staros)

2:00 - Artist Showcase: Greg Rucka (I actually have no idea what this is, but I suspect it will be something like a Q&A panel.)

4:00 - Where Do We Go From Here? What does the future hold for graphic novels, readers, and libraries? Our guests offer their ideas. (Greg Rucka, Steven Grant, Michele Gorman, Yen, Dark Horse, Viz)

So I'm wasted.

Spent the day at the Muskego Public Library, having a wonderful time with fellow scribes like Laura Lippman, Chris Mooney, Brian Azzarello, Bob Crais, and Sean Doolittle, just to name a few. The event was put on by the library and CrimeSpree Magazine, the baby of Jon and Ruth Jordan, who are two of the more terrific people you're ever likely to meet. I snapped some photos, and may post 'em in the next few days or so.

Really was a wonderful experience -- great turnout, great questions, great fans, just, y'know, great.

So I'm back in the room, and I'm bushed, and not only because I was trying to match Azzarello beer-for-beer at the bar. But figured I'd check my email and the blog, etc.

The strike has been a subject of conversation, as you might imagine, amongst us writerly types, even those of us (like myself) who are not members of the guild. I repeat, I'm not a member of the WGA.

But I am 100% behind the strike, and I am %100 behind the writers who are striking, and though I'm sure people are already quickly approaching the sick-to-death level of hearing about it, I think it's important that people understand the Why.

And this little video, by the folks at UnitedHollywood.com, explains it quite succinctly:

Those of you who are hoping for a quick resolution to the strike...I don't think that's going to happen. This is about more than residuals for writers; ultimately, this strike is about trying to destroy the WGA, and in so doing, breaking the other unions in Hollywood, DGA (perhaps) excepted.

I firmly believe this is a just fight, and there aren't many of those around these days, it seems.

I'm waiting for a cab to take me to that airport for this.

If any of y'all are going to be stopping by, please let me know!

I tried to take a picture from the airplane on the way in, but it's not everything I'd hoped it would be:

Problem with shooting from a cellphone camera out the window of the Coach cabin, I guess. What doesn't come across is the depth of these clouds, their flowing structure, the literal way they formed and shifted before my eyes. It was, to use an awful cliche, like watching a special effect. Two masses coming together in an archaic arch, almost forming a perfect circle, as if creating a gateway through which to fly. On descent, I look down and see receding glaciers, can make out the termination point, the multiple fractures splitting further apart by meltwater that's thawed, frozen, and thawed again. The forests go on beyond comprehension, the sheer size of the wilderness is stunning, and it is all, without a doubt, terribly, gloriously beautiful.

I have suspected for a long time now that I am not, for the most part, a terribly adventurous soul; at least, I'm not anymore. Maybe it's a product of age, but I suspect it's much more a product of personality. I had some bad experiences traveling alone when I was young, and they did damage such that I've never fully recovered. While I like travel, and while I love visiting new places, the actual process of leaving my "comfort zone" is something that I find harder and harder to do these days, and the burden of such things as language difference is such that I inadvertently balk before committing to such trips. This is one of the reasons that Michael Palin is one of my heroes, all things Python aside. And I suppose it's yet another reason that I write; after all, I get to visit on paper all the places I will most likely never set shoe-leather to in my life.

Alaska is beautiful, and I can say this with tremendous authority on the basis of one flight and three long walks, but saying Alaska is beautiful ain't a newsflash to anyone that's ever heard of Alaska. Anchorage itself oddly reminds me of growing up in Salinas, California, before the Salinas Valley had a population explosion and, in true California style, began pumping out mini-malls and housing estates as fast as the migrant construction workers could raise them. Same feel to the architecture, the small town intimacy. You can walk all of Anchorage in less than a day. Biggest difference? Salinas didn't have a tourist economy, or at least, the tourist economy it had was devoted to the handful of Steinbeck scholars came, making pilgrimage.

It's that tourist economy that does it, that creates such a powerful feeling of not belonging here, of not having earned the right to it all. After all, the temperature is still hovering in the 40s, and there's sunlight, and the snow I'm seeing is on the Chugach Mountains and not on the streets here. This isn't winter, this isn't close. It doesn't take walking around with a camera hanging from your neck and a guidebook in your hand for the locals to make you as a tourist. I'm a PNW boy -- and anyone who want to challenge me on that, they're in for a fight -- I've got my denim and my flannel and my boots and my Columbia Sportswear cover, and yes, Portland ain't Government Camp, but I know what it's like to live in the shadow of mountains and forest. The locals I've met at the con, they ask what I've seen of their state, and I tell them, and I add that it's all lovely, and they cluck and shake their heads, because, y'know, Anchorage with its population of 300,000, that's the city, that's not Alaska. Makes no difference where you came from, and it's not how I look, I know that; again, it's that sense of belonging, of having earned this place, and I so clearly don't have it, and I can almost all hear them thinking, "Pussy."

More and more when I travel, I look at these strange and wonderful places, and I wonder what it would be like to live in them. Not simply idle imaginings, but thoughts of quite literally and wholly decamping from Portland and moving to the Strange New World. It's not quite fantasy, and yet not quite serious consideration, either. Somewhere in between, fed by curiosity and something...else. Something I haven't yet put a name to. And no, it's not dissatisfaction with my life or my home, it's not that. Wanderlust, maybe? A desire to reclaim that curiosity and sense of adventure that I lost when I was far too young to be traveling in France on my own? I don't know.

It really is something else, here, though. Certainly a place I wish to return to, when I can bring with me the people I love, and take the time to see just a little sliver of the so-much-more that I'm missing.

Because, you know, I'm not here to see Alaska, or to even see Anchorage. I'm here for a mystery convention, to sit on a panel and to sign my books and to read my writing and to, mostly, catch up with DHS and meet some of his other clients, who are, uniformly, pretty terrific. In particular, I've gotten to finally meet Michael Koryta and Sean Doolittle and Theresa Schwegel, all of whom I greatly admire, and all of whom, I've discovered, are wonderful people. Doolittle won the Barry Award last night for his novel, The Cleanup, Best Paperback Original. Pick it up. It's good.

Me? I'm done for the day, at least until the drinking starts tonight, and back in the hotel room, writing. Because, you know, when you're surrounded by snow and ice, at least in the distance, that's the time to be writing Whiteout: Thaw.