“Hey, you like horror, right?”

“Well, I—”

“Awesome. Here you go. New book, TRICK ’r TREAT, based on the film written and directed by Michael Dougherty. Have fun!”

And that’s how I started working on the TRICK ’r TREAT original graphic novel.

Not exactly like escaping an exploding planet as a baby, or getting bitten by a radioactive spider, but hey: we can’t all be aliens or mutants. (I know, I know: he’s a mutate, not a mutant.)

I picked up the screenplay and the next thing I knew, two hours had gone by and I felt like I’d been stuffed into a burlap sack and tossed into the river, only to be pulled out at the last moment and dragged to shore…but when my rescuer ripped opened the bag, he turned out to be a homicidal clown laughing manically.

I was, to put it mildly, enthused about this project. Big time. This was gonna be fun.

Most of the team was already in place when I came on board. It can be a tricky thing to have a creative team assembled for you—different people have different tastes and views and philosophies and they don’t always click, through no fault of their own. (Not that it’s ever my fault, of course. Okay, it’s pretty much always my fault.)

But there was no such problem here. Marc Andreyko was writing the critically-acclaimed MANHUNTER at the time, so I knew the script was in good hands; Marc did a wonderful job of pulling apart the film’s interlocking vignettes and separating them into their own strands, yet keeping them delicately entwined.

MAN-BAT’s Mike Huddleston was doing the first of the film’s vignettes, aided by the super Jim Charalampidis on colors. I’d loved Mike’s stuff since MNEMOVORE, and knew Jim would be a perfect fit.

I hadn’t seen Grant Bond’s art before, but as soon as his first pages came in, I was a fan for life. Grant’s characters are tremendously believable—no small task when you’re illustrating a large number of terrified children, each of whom has their own motivations and agendas and personalities.

The third chapter didn’t have an artist yet. I immediately thought of Christopher Gugliotti, an artist whose work I’d known for years and who, I thought, had the sort of imagination for this project. Chris’s exaggerated, cartoony-meets-impressionistic style was just right for conveying the sense of his characters as classic animation heroines turned to the dark side: adorable yet deadly. (Which also describes Chris, actually.)

The final chapter was illustrated by Fiona Staples. She had worked on Done to Death with Andrew Foley, and while all the artists had stories that interlocked with the others, hers had more, but she did an amazing job of pulling them all together with beautiful pacing and mood. By the end of her chapter I was very nearly tempted to nail her feet to the floor in an effort to get her to do more WildStorm work. I didn’t actually do that, of course. But only because I wasn’t able to get a visa to go to Canada.

Add some beautiful art by Breehn Burns and Ragnar and Michael Dougherty himself, and it turned out to be a remarkably attractive package.

Which brings us to the secret weapon of the book: Michael Dougherty. Given that he’d written and directed the film, and designed the main character, it’d be natural for him to want to be more involved with the project than usual. And he was—but in all the best ways, raving about the art, giving incisive but never overbearing feedback, and generally acting as the book’s biggest fan.

He’s not, of course. That’d be me. (Or maybe Marc Andreyko.) But I’m quite confident we can all agree that it’s mighty nice to finally have it on the shelves, where everyone can see what we’ve been so passionate about for quite a while now.

Oh, and in response to the question about whether or not I like horror. There really isn’t any one genre I do or don’t care for more than others. What I like is a good story, regardless of genre. And what TRICK ’r TREAT is, above all else, is a damn good story.

Time sucks.

That’s the oh-so-profound and utterly original conclusion I’ve come to. And with each passing year—more of them than I generally care to reflect on—I’m more and more convinced of that. I was one of them kids who couldn’t wait to grow up, to be able to decide what I ate or when I went to bed. The joke was, of course, on me. Because what I wouldn’t give to be able to take a nap every day….

Most comics don’t have that problem. In the majority of cases, the characters stay the same basic age for years, even decades. We all know the reasons for that, and they’re valid and, unrepentant fanboy that I am, I’m pretty much in favor of ’em. Which isn’t to say that when a book has real, honest-to-goodness change, it’s not a delightful…change.

The characters in ASTRO CITY, for instance. They really do grow and develop and, well, change. None illustrate this better than Astra Furst. A ten-year-old girl the last time we saw her, she’s all grown up now, and graduating from college. And taking her boyfriend to a reality-nexus the likes of which no human’s even heard of, much less visited.

It’s enough to make a certain father of young girls queasy.

But that’s one of the great things about ASTRO CITY. Kurt Busiek, Brent Anderson and Alex Ross have created characters so fully realized that I’m actually a bit verklempt at the idea of one of them graduating from college. “But…but…” I find myself thinking. “No! It seems like just yesterday you were in grade school!”

Of course, it wasn’t just yesterday. Actually, that was back in the previous century. But the point is that Kurt and Co. have created a character so believable that she makes even a crusty editor get a lump in his throat and want to rush home to give his daughters a hug. (Or lock them in a tower.)

So. Astra, I may not be ready for you to be so grown up yet, but I’m mighty glad Kurt and Brent and Alex have given us this here miniseries starring you, a wonderful addition to the ASTRO CITY canon. I guess some change is pretty swell after all.

Just don’t tell my daughters I said that.

(And I still wish I had my old metabolism back.)

So this isn’t the way it normally works in comics. You don’t usually have an outstanding creative team call you up with a project already basically finished. Sure, sometimes you’ll get a great writer who’s got a killer idea, or you’re talking with an awesome penciller at a convention and he says he’s got some time coming up and he’d love to work with you. But a top-notch writer, paired with a truly great penciller and topped with another first-rate penciller who, in this case, was going to be inking? And the story already laid out from beginning to end, in a half-dozen complete story arcs?

That’s just crazy.

And yet that’s how it happened. I answered my phone and there was David Tischman, all New York accent and Hollywood smoothness, saying he had an idea for a series of miniserieseses he’d created with Philip Bond and David Hahn was going to ink it and would I be interested in hearing a pitch?

I was interested.

The story, he explained, was called RED HERRING, which also happened to be the name of one of the two main characters. It was a conspiracy story about a con man, or a story about a con man who gets tangled up in a conspiracy. Or maybe it’s about a young woman who thinks she’s somewhat worldly and jaded but is really kinda naïve, unless maybe she’s not?

It’s a complex story—which conspiracy, or con game, isn’t?—told in an incredibly clear manner; it grabs you from the first page and never lets go for a moment. In fact, the tricky thing is trying to explain it in a sentence or two. Which is why it’s nice to fall back on David’s tag line: “it’s like The X-Files meets The Daily Show.”

And did I mention it’s funny? Like really really funny. It has one of my all-time favorite captions: “The couple met via an online dating service, which paired their mutual interests in crossword puzzles, romantic comedies and Boston Beans.” I mean, come on. That’s just gold. (And now I’m kinda hungry.)

And then there’s Philip Bond. Any chance to get to see more Philip Bond artwork is a chance not to be missed. To be one of the very first to see new Philip Bond artwork? Is a chance for which I would very seriously kneecap loved ones. (Sorry about that, honey; I’m sure you understand.) He puts more thought into each page’s thumbnails than some Nobel laureates did into their dissertations. And yet the end result never feels labored—just the opposite, in fact; his pages have a natural, improvisational feel to them which totally belies their intellectual origins.

Meanwhile, David Hahn—or, as Tischman calls him, “the good David”—has been the glue that holds the book together. You’d have to go a long, long way to find someone who appreciates inkers more than I. But even given my inker-centric nature, The Good David’s been invaluable, his unfailingly cheerful demeanor (totally at odds with his rather alarmingly evil Twitter persona) and professional behavior enabling the book to keep on a steady course.

Toss in Guy Major’s lush colors and magnificent facial hair, Rob Leigh’s inventive lettering and imposing presence and Kristy Quinn’s incisive snark and it all adds up to a book which has been (almost always) a total joy to work on, and one of my favorite series to read of this entire century.

Now, if only I could figure out what the deal with Red’s fake eye really is…

[For Part I of Scott's post on North 40, click here.]

I’d worked with Fiona Staples on the adaptation of TRICK ’r TREAT, the Michael Dougherty Halloween film which was, at that point, awaiting a release date. It was, I believe, the first full-length comic Fiona had ever drawn, although she’d colored some stuff, and it was insanely great work on her part. So great I immediately offered her a project which could not have been much more different than the claustrophobic horror book she’d already done for me: this time I offered her a superhero book that spanned the globe, hopped back in forth in time and, oh, yes, was actually a film noir tale in disguise. Pretty much the polar opposite of her previous gig. And yet I had not the slightest doubt she’d hit it out of the park.

Which she did. She teed off on SECRET HISTORY OF THE AUTHORITY: HAWKSMOOR like it’d just insulted her mother and then ran over her puppy. She smacked the bejeebers out of it and left it sobbing in the corner, begging for mercy as though it were a minor Mafioso and she were a Robert DeNiro character in a Scorsese flick. Which is to say, she did a really, really nice job.

So when NORTH 40 came around, I immediately thought of Fiona. Oh, sure, she hadn’t yet drawn a small town. And she hadn’t had to design many new characters. And NORTH 40 is essentially a western with fantasy and horror elements. In fact, basically, except for not having funny animals, NORTH 40 is pretty much everything Fiona hadn’t yet drawn for me. And did I have any doubts this time around?

I did not. One glance at any NORTH 40 image will illustrate nicely why I was as sure she’d be perfect for this as I am quite confident the sun’s going to rise in the east and set in the west tomorrow. (Well…except perhaps in Conover County. You can never tell for sure what’s going to happen there.)

I sent Aaron’s proposal to Fiona and a day or two later I got some preliminary sketches. Aaron and I conferred on what changes we’d like done and concurred that they’d look a bit better without the saliva we’d accidentally drooled on them (quite independently and several thousand miles apart, mind you), and that beyond that they needed no tweaking. A few days after that I received the colored versions. Aaron designed a tasty little presentation and I submitted it. A few days later I got the green light.

Needless to say, this is not the way projects normally go. The entire birthing process is usually a much more arduous one—not always, but generally. I mean, a comic book series is a serious investment of time and energy and resources. Everyone involved in the decision-making takes it mighty seriously, and evaluates each property from a bunch of different angles. And all that’s a good thing, and it takes time to do it right.

But it’s been apparent to everyone at both WildStorm and DC Comics that NORTH 40 is a most unusual book, in the best sense. It’s unusually original, unusually well written and unusually well illustrated. Even the response has been (very pleasantly) unusual, in that I’ve been getting emails and calls from pros who’ve gotten sneak peeks and gone out of their way to rave about it.

Which is extremely pleasant and very gratifying but, I must say, not really as surprising as it might normally be. This book has been in the works for a while and we’ve known pretty much exactly what we’ve had for a year now. And we could not be happier to finally be able to share it with the rest of you. Or, given the subject and tone of the book, mayhap it would be more accurate to say we’re pleased to finally be unleashing it upon the world.

NORTH 40. Grab it while you can. But some caution is advised. Because there’s somethin’ mighty big and bad lurking just around the corner and you’re gonna need all the help you can get. And used properly NORTH 40 might be just what you need.

Or…it could just be the beginning of the end…

[Below: Pages 3 - 5 of the North 40 proposal.]

So here’s how it all happened.

I was at the San Diego Comic-Con. I was checking out the various booths when I spied my old pal Rob Simpson, a former Marvel editor, former DC editor who was then working at Dark Horse. He introduced me to the couple he was talking to, a friendly pair named Aaron and Cristi Williams. I was under the impression that they were old friends with my old friend but later learned it wasn’t true—they were just friends with pretty much everyone they met. Cristi offered me copies of Aaron’s books and not wanting to be impolite (I will now pause as Kristy Quinn collects herself) and because I’m a huge fan of free swag, I oh so kindly accepted.

Rob and I caught up and then I had to run for a meeting with another old pal, Eddie Berganza, to discuss the DC/WildStorm crossover DREAMWAR. Unusually for me, I was actually a few minutes early. As is not unusual for SDCC, Eddie got caught in the crush of people trying to leave the con, and called to say he’d be a few minutes late. As all I had to read were these new Aaron Williams books I’d been handed, I opened the first one…and was instantly sucked into the world of PS238.

I immediately discovered that Aaron had created a world populated with classic comic book characters, all of whom had been tweaked and tilted and turned just enough to be both completely, instantly recognizable and yet utterly new. They were old pals you’d never met before. And then Aaron grabbed ’em and put ’em through their paces, crafting stories that were clear and accessible and never went where you thought they were going and yet managed to be completely satisfying. Not to mention funny, which they were in spades. Great characterization, great pacing, great dialogue. The series was the real deal. By the time Eddie arrived I had a new favorite (non-WildStorm) comic book series.

Naturally, I asked Aaron if he had anything he’d like to pitch. This is sorta like asking a shark if it likes to eat…only not really. In fact, you know what? That was a lousy analogy. Because while it’s a half-decent comparison in that, like that shark and eating, I get the feeling Aaron would cease to live were he somehow stopped from telling stories, so let’s all fervently hope no one stops him from doing so, and why would anyone anyway? But the other thing is that it’s clear Aaron loves the art of storytelling. Whereas I’ve never heard any convincing evidence that a shark really loves eating, as opposed to simply doing it because it’s a biological imperative.

And, see, the thing is that PS238 is absolutely wonderful. But it’s not exactly WildStorm material, not in the way most folks think of WildStorm, at least. I mean, yes, the quality level is there, but it’s kid-friendly, and while it’s dramatic and has its tense moments, it really does seem, superficially at least, to not be our cuppa. And yet I could tell that a storyteller as imaginative and skilled as Aaron could almost certainly work in a bunch of different genres and styles. People who can tell stories are a rare and valuable thing and not to be pigeonholed.

Anyway, I asked Aaron to pitch me. And he did. He pitched me NORTH 40, pretty much complete, with the first story arc plotted and paced, broken down issue-by-issue, and the characters already in place. It was kinda crazy, actually, how finished an idea it already was. I mean…it was all there, down to the theme he wanted to explore with the series. The slightest of nips and tucks and we were good to go.

Now all we needed was an artist. And it took even less time figuring out who’d be perfect for that.

[Come back Wednesday for Part II of Scott's North 40 editorial. In the meantime, check out the first page of the North 40 proposal below.]

So one of the (many) great things about working on Astro City is being able to watch as these total pros shape the book from its initial ideas to the final polished product. They’ve all worked together for so long that they’ve got a routine down pat, and everyone sees pretty much every step of the process. I’ve never worked on another series where, say, the cover artist sees the rough pencils or the colorist sees the cover sketch, even though the cover’s going to be painted. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever worked on before, but these guys totally know what they’re doing, and they’ve found a system that works for them. Which is nice, because it makes things that much easier for Kristy Quinn and me. And while, as she’ll attest, I have no issue with making her life more difficult, anything that makes my life simpler is by definition a good thing.

But even beyond that, it’s just cool to observing as Kurt Busiek’s plot is turned into rough pencils by Brent Anderson, which are then refined and then inked and then colored by Alex Sinclair. Here are a couple pages to show part of the evolution. Pretty groovy, no?