A Maker of Books


For an awfully long time I have been filling blank pages with junk and goofy stuff and saving it in book form.  I think it began when I was a Junior in high school.  At least, that is the oldest of the homemade books I could find.  I fill these handmade and factory-made blank books with stories, drawings, poems, clipped pictures, nonsense, secrets, shamelessly plagiarized gunk, and anything and everything.  At 58 and one half years of age, I have been doing this insane thing for a very long time and have quite a pile of it.  The above is my Tales of Fantastica, a cartoon journey into my own dreams and personal life.


I believe, based on physical evidence that the first collected writing I have done is in my Journal, Rage.  It is called that because I named it after a Dylan Thomas poem in which he “raged against the dying of the light” because he was venting on the subject of his father’s death and the dread of living a life without being allowed to really be alive… to really live.  I wanted to write down everything I noticed about being alive… my hopes, my fears, my dreams as fully as I could remember them… and it became, over time, quite ripe and fertile, as stored garbage usually will.  I was able to use it as a source for other stuff.  I have at least nine volumes of this journal composed over a period of twenty-some years… before I started depositing my daily dose of words and interior monologues in other places.


My old drawing notebook goes all the way back to 5th grade.  I saved almost every drawing and doodle I did as a grade-school-and-middle-school doodler.  It has some of my very first cartoons and bird drawings and monsters that I filled my quiet hours in childhood with instead of doing the homework I was supposed to be doing.

In college, specifically Cow College… Iowa State University in Ames, Iowa, I first began putting stories into novel form.  These I kept in binders and neatbooks that I had to illustrate the covers of with my own story-specific logos.


Here is the first manuscript of Superchicken, the first manuscript that I actually finished and followed all the way through with.


This book-maker-mania followed me even into the classroom.  I collected classroom drawings from students, either as gifts from them or confiscated from them and put them into the binder I call my Gallery.  This will make an interesting post of its own in the near future.

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And I am still not cured of making my own covers, even though I am now trying to make them into traditionally publlished books.  Here is the cover for Superchicken.

superchick_novelI suppose I will never really be cured of this mental aberration for as long as I still live.  I don’t know what my heirs will do with them when they are finally rid of me once and for all.  But it is all something I don’t regret doing.  And besides, I couldn’t help it.


Filed under autobiography, NOVEL WRITING, photo paffoonies

3 responses to “A Maker of Books

  1. Wish I had done something like this with my doodles. Very cool, very cool indeed. Oh and a hearty thank you for checking out my blog too. :O)

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