
Another one down!
The flu really sucks. Back to bed for me.
c

Another one down!
The flu really sucks. Back to bed for me.
c
Poor Elayne Riggs was a recipient of the convention crud which has felled everyone I know, and I am sicker than I was two days ago.
But we also have her to thank for these lovely pics, including a nice one of me at the show.
As you can see, my delicate Southern self required layers of protection. Alas, the layers did not save me from the flu.
Hey, subscribe to this blog for $1 per month!
You get absolutely nothing extra for it, but more pages of A Distant Soil online and my gratitude. Not a bad deal after all!

This portrait of Jessica is one of the long-awaited lettered state drawings for the incredibly understanding and patient Tim Barnes, who has every reason to want to come at me with an axe because I screwed up his order such that it surpasseth all understanding of the word “badly”.
But it looks like all is well now, and I am very appreciative of his patience.
This is one of my favorite lettered state drawings.
Jessica gets her big 1980′s hair, which, by the way, is a pain to draw in these books because the paper has no tooth. Rather slick, it is unforgiving, and you really can’t correct most mistakes on this stuff. Any lines you try to erase go ghost.
Anyway, she hasn’t appeared in the web comic yet, but long time fans love her. Especially the male ones.
c
I am ashamed of myself for posting this. It is made of wrong.
I wonder if Wil Wheaton knows about it? He’s a terrific writer, by the way.
Also, recovered from the old blog, Pon Farr Mountain, featuring the love that dare not speak it’s name in space where no one can hear you scream “SPOCK!”.
Got it from SF Signal, a wonderful blog. You should bookmark it.
c
I wondered why my donations had dried up. My Paypal button code was incorrect. On every single post.
Oops.
All fixed now.
Buy me chocolate. I will make you feel guilty if you don’t.
Then you will weep bitter tears of regret that I died at 94 never having finished my comic book, and oh, how I will laugh into my afterlife, knowing how my books ends while you don’t, neener, neener.
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