Tag Archives: drawing

Fire Wisps

Garriss n Torchy

In the novel I just recently finished, The Magical Miss Morgan, there are several different kinds of fairies.  The fairies in the book may or may not really be there.  They are a part of the magic the teacher, who is the main character, uses to be a superior teacher.  She engages the imaginations of her students and they love her for it.  Still, an important part of the plot revolves around a small group of fairies intent on a quest meant to save their fairy kingdom called Tellosia from a take-over attempt by evil fairies.  One of the main character fairies is the fire wisp, Garriss, seen here with his little brother Torchy.  Fire wisps are fairies made of elemental magic, so they can be fire, water, wind, and stone.  They are made of the element they represent, and so, with a brain made of fire they are not terribly smart.  They do, however, have very warm hearts, which Garriss proves to Miss Morgan, to Blueberry Bates, and to all the school children who dare to believe in fairies and fairy magic.  Garriss is totally contained by fire magic, and therefore doesn’t set the teacher’s desk on fire when he walks on it.  In fact, the only way he can burn anything is through the cone of fire spell written on his hands.  And even then, since he is not very bright (in a mental capacity), he has to be allowed to use it by his fairy friends, Silkie, the Storybook fairy, and Donner the Pixie.

This Paffooney is the first one I drew of any of the fairy characters in Miss Morgan’s story, but it is not the last.  I intend to draw more of them in the coming days.

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The Next Little Project

All right, the time has come to figure out what to write next.  I have another thirty-plus-year-old writing project that would make an absolutely, terrifically horrible novel that I want to try to tame.  I have a cartoonized version created back when I was young and stupid… in about 1981, before the invention of the graphic novel.  It is in full color.  It was done before I learned how to draw.  It is a book that will now go under the ridiculously alliterated title The Captain Came Calling.

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The novel is set, like all of my hometown stories, in Norwall, Iowa… The fictionalized version of Rowan, the town I actually grew up in.  It isn’t quite as dorky in real life as it appears in my cutsified illustration, but it is approaching it at glacial speeds.

The town’s portrayal will have to change as I attempt to update and clarify characters.

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The people have to be switched about.  Phyllis Murphy has to become Mary Murphy.   The Pirates will have to switch from the 90’s Pirates to the 80’s Pirates, as the main character, Mary Phillips has to create a new Pirates’ Club that didn’t exist when I first wrote this bilge.  I have to update and increase the plot, adding the back-story  through the inclusion of the Captain’s Logbook… How else can I get mermaids and the voodoo priest into the story otherwise?

I also have to be a little bit more politically correct about the portrayal of the tiki-idol-men.  South Seas’ Magic can’t be racist or misogynist.  And then there’s the whole thing about Captain Dettbarn’s less-than-Iowegian morals that has to be dealt with.  He’s basically a clown character, not a villain.

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And the Captain is cursed with invisibility.   That is no small thing to pull off in work of fantasy fiction in a Young Adult style.  It has to be believable enough to make the audience accept it, even if it is a comedy caper of the lowest sort.20141228_145924

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Filed under cartoons, novel plans, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney

Toy Tiger

Tyger!  Tyger! Burning bright!

I see thee holy in the night,

This for that, and that for this,

Shoot the gun,

And never miss!

A sillier poem there will never be,

And Tyger!  Tyger!  this poem’s for thee.

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The first stuffed toy I ever owned was a tiger.  It was almost as big as me the first time I remember it.  I got it from Mom and Dad sometime before I started remembering things in my life.

When my oldest son was born I bought him a stuffed toy tiger.  It was bigger than he was at the start.  I don’t know why, but now that my son is a Marine in dress blues, looking spiffy and military trained… It just seemed important to remember a toy tiger.

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A Wordless Holiday Post

tree time_ginger

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Bird is the Word

birdwords

Birds are always talking,

And birds are always squawking,

And they are using bird-words,

These are the words I heard.

Twitter-pated – this word comes from the owl in Bambi and means not being able to think straight because you’re in love.

Aviary – is a great big bird house, big enough to fly around in

Feather-dusted – to you and me it means clean, to a bird it means the feathers are dirty

Bird-brained – don’t be insulted if a bird calls you this.  It is a compliment.

Fume-fluttered – you gotta fly and get away from that bad smell.

Wing-walking –  it’s how you get from here to there if you’re a bird… Duh!

Wakka wakka – it’s those dang ducks again, always telling jokes!

Egg-zactly – as precise and perfect as an egg.

Coo-coo-karoo – that stupid rooster wants us to get up again at daybreak.  It’s like a bird can never sleep in!

Clucker butter – Can you believe that KFC place?  Butter on improperly cremated dead chickens (ah, well, they were only chickens after all).

Now that you have less than one per cent of the bird vocabulary, please don’t try to tell me what they are saying.  I really don’t want to know!

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A Random Dragon

Okay, I need to keep my string of daily posts going.  So today, I will show you Pennie.  She is a copper dragon.  She’s been too shy to meet you until now.   But better meet than eat you.

Penny Dragon

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Me, Myself, and It

MickeyX2

I think it is provably true that any time an artist creates a work of art, it is actually a self-portrait.  Did you see the works of Thomas Kinkade and Paul Detlafsen in my recent posts?  Can I not effectively argue that those paintings give you a glimpse of the real person behind the paintbrush?  Was Norman Rockwell not the man portrayed in all those lovely down-home, truly American oils he did?  Was Theodor Giesel not also Dr. Seuss?  Then I look back at some of the goofy pictures that I have created through the years and think, “Oh no!  What have I done?”  I sometimes think I don’t have to post nude selfies of myself for people to see me naked.  Should I really have done that…?  …Of course, I should!  And that means I have seen William Shakespeare naked too!  Good Golly!  I have to quit thinking these goofy thoughts!

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Happy Doodle… Now in Color!

Happy DoodleHere is what it looks like in color.  I fussed it up with markers because I like the bright colors.  It helps it say “happy”.

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Filed under doodle, drawing, goofiness, marker, Paffooney, pen and ink

Can You Draw Happy?

I have had to report racing heartbeats every night since I’ve been wearing the monitor.  It has been recording things that I have missed.  But do I really have to worry?  No.  The doctor hasn’t called to say go to the emergency room.  I am now waking up every day with more confidence.  Yay!  I am still not dead!  Every day is a blessing.  And there is treatment to help non-lethal tachycardia.  I have reason to believe I won’t be dead tomorrow too.  So I will keep on writing and living and living to write, and to honor that resolution I will share the happy-doodle Paffooney that I doodled this morning after waking up not-dead.

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Holiday Scenes

Having been a Jehovah’s Witness for a good part of the last twenty years, I am not in the habit of thinking holiday celebration. But they have moved on without me.  I am a bah-humbug door-knocker no longer.  So, I guess it’s time to recall how much this time of year used to mean to me.  I searched my writing.  So far the only holiday scene I have written is from Snow Babies.  The characters in this scene are all severely snowed in and the electricity is out.  They have decided to pass the time by putting up the Christmas tree without lights.  The blizzard rages. It is an intense time where survival is not guaranteed.  Hence, the need to remember the season.

tree time  Excerpt from Snow Babies.

Canto Seventy-Three – A Red, Green, and White Christmas Tree Block

The thing about the artificial Christmas tree, although it was plastic and solid forest green in a very unnatural way, was that it did look pretty good when you put all the right pegs into all the right slots and got it standing up by itself all full and fluffed out and green.  It looked like a real tree… maybe… a little bit.

Denny handed a frosted red ball up to Valerie.  Because she commanded the heights from the stepstool, she got to place each precious glass or plastic ornament.  The Clarkes had a full string of bubble lights, but since the electricity was still out, Val didn’t see any reason to place the thing.  The red ball went on the spot near the center front where Valerie had hung it the two years previous.  The only difference was… well, the difference was… yes, the difference was… that Tommy Bons, all attitude and dirty blue jacket was standing in the spot where…  you know, the spot where…  the spot where someone needed to stand to catch Valerie if she overbalanced and fell towards the tree.  The place where last year… her father stood.

Pidney was watching with some concern.  “Why are there tears in your eyes, Val?” he asked stupidly.

“Well, I… no reason.”

Tommy caught her flitting glance with his steady blue gaze.  He looked deeply into her eyes.  Then, she saw what she never expected to see.  Tears stood in his eyes too.  Without saying or hearing a word about it, he understood.  He knew.  She could see it in his eyes.  He knew what it was.  He hadn’t just lost his father.  Both of them.  At once.  In a car crash.  Like Ponyboy in the Outsiders.  Jeez she loved that book.

“You gonna put up the Santa thingy?” Pidney asked.

Mary Philips pulled the Santa thingy out of the box.  It was made of Styrofoam balls, red felt, white cotton fluff, and black button eyes.  And when she turned it over, on the bottom, it said, “to pretty little Princess, from Daddy Kyle.”  The tears came like rain.  Valerie crumpled into Tommy’s arms, weeping desperately.

“I… I don’t understand,” said Pidney.  “I thought putting up a Christmas tree was a happy thing.”

Valerie had both arms wrapped around Tommy, squeezing the juice out of him, and crying like her heart was breaking.  No… not breaking… broken.  Shattered into little shards of glass, and scattered like snowflakes on a December morning.

Wordlessly Mary showed Pid what was written in black felt-tip marker on the bottom of the Santa thingy.

“Oh,” said Pid.  “He made that himself, didn’t he?”

Valerie couldn’t answer.  She sobbed like she could barely breathe.

Dennis limped up to Pidney and stood beside the big dumb oaf.  He reached his small hand out to Mary, and she put the Santa thingy in it.

“This is really neat,” he said.  “It’s like the ones my grandma made for me with Styrofoam and knitted all the clothes for and stuff.  I wish I still had those.”

Valerie slowed the tears for a moment and looked at Dennis.  He was a really cute little boy when you looked past the crooked little legs and the thin frame.  And he had such a darling and gentle manner about him.  He made you want to hug him until all the juice came out of him too.  She loosened her death-grip on Tommy.

“He bought a stupid little crafts book,” said Valerie.  “He was gonna give it to me along with the cabbage patch doll he bought.  Then he decided to make that silly little Santa man from one of the craft patterns in the book.  He did it all by himself, and gave it to me as a surprise gift.  He did all of it.  He did it all by himself.”  It was the first time she had told that story to anyone.  It was the first time she’d even remembered about something he gave her since…  Well, it was a silly thing, but she did love it.  “Can I have that?” she asked Denny.

“Sure,” he put it in her hands with a puckish smile.

“I think it goes near the top this year.  Not in place of the angel, but right near her, to keep her company.”

Valerie got back up onto the stepstool and placed the Santa thingy near the top at just to the left of center.  She looked at it and began to smile.

“Yep,” said Tommy, “the tree looks pretty stupid without lights, but that looks just about right to put it there.”

Valerie laughed at him.

Pidney moved over beside Mary and put an arm around her shoulders.  “Sorry,” he whispered.  “I’m really not as dumb as that, you know.”

“Yes you are,” whispered Mary, “but we love you anyway.”

Valerie heard that, and laughed all the harder.  This Christmas tree thing was going to continue to hurt.  And Pid was pretty dumb sometimes.  But Mary was right.  It had to be said.  Valerie loved him anyway.

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