Brian Fies's Blog

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

My two favorite books about writing and creativity are On Writing by Stephen King and Born Standing Up by Steve Martin. In particular, Martin had some advice that hit hard and stuck with me: “Be so good they can’t ignore you.”

Yes.

When I was young I thought I really wanted to draw superhero comics (a career that holds no appeal to me today). I kept looking at artists I considered the worst working for DC and Marvel and thinking, “I’m better than them, they should hire me instead!” 

That attitude is common among aspiring creators, but in retrospect its ignorance and arrogance is embarrassing. First, I can see now that I really wasn’t better than those artists. Second, those artists had 30-year track records producing professional-grade work on deadline, while I had none. Third, I was an idiot to set my sights so low.

Don’t aim to be better than the worst. Aim to be better than the best. 

But that’s so daunting! You could never be as good as Jack Kirby or Neal Adams or Charles Schulz (or Stephen King or Steve Martin)! Impossible!

But you can work hard and do your best and fall short because you’re right, you’ll never be better than the best. But maybe you’ve made yourself better than 90 percent of your competition instead of 1 percent of it. Maybe now you’re so good they can’t ignore you, and even if they can’t hire you today, I guarantee they will remember you later. 

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Bryant Lin and I before the class started.

I had a terrific time at Stanford University yesterday, talking about Mom's Cancer with a class of mostly medical students at the invitation of Dr. Bryant Lin. 

The class is a speakers series on the broad topic of narrative medicine. Bryant is in the unique position of being both a narrative medicine practitioner--his book Sunshine: An Exploration of Living When You Are Dying, will be published by Penguin Random House later this year--and, as that title hints, a husband and father with Stage Four lung cancer. Bryant is incorporating his diagnosis and treatment into his medical school curriculum. He is his own case study. That's a crazy kind of brave that only a great teacher would attempt.

It was a small class, about 14 students. I love lecturing to medical students because they're all smart, confident, and eager to perform well (having gotten straight A's most of their lives), so they play along with silly workshop exercises that, by the end of the class, have them drawing their own four-panel graphic medicine comic. A few of them really lit up, and I'm often surprised by how thoughtful and touching some of their work is considering that an hour earlier they'd never tried to make a comic. 

I've been a guest lecturer for this class a few years in a row. As I was leaving, Bryant said he was sorry he'd forgotten to bring his copy of The Last Mechanical Monster for me to sign. I replied, "I'll be back next year--and so will you." "Thanks," he said quietly. "That's the plan."

My opening slide, showing the sketch that inspired me to tell our family's story in the form of a comic and later because a page in Mom's Cancer. Photo by the class T.A., Cyril Sebastian.

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

I have a couple of recurring dreams. They don’t always follow the same storylines, but the locations and my goals are the same. I suspect they give me some insights into how my mind works.

One recurring dream is set in my grandparents’ house, which is nothing like any house they ever had. It’s a huge and rambling maze, with rooms built off a corridor that makes an enormous loop. Usually, I’m searching through rooms, and rooms within rooms within rooms, to find something.

My other dream is set in Disneyland but, again, it’s nothing like the original theme park. In contrast to Disneyland’s hub-and-spokes design, the park of my dreams is on a rigid grid, with different themed areas laid out like city blocks. The rides are bare-bones versions of the real ones. I always sneak in through a back gate. Usually, I’m looking for my family.

I’ve spent enough dream time in both environments that I think I could draw maps of them. Their rigid rectilinear architecture reminds me of the “mind palace” practice of organizing your memory as an imaginary network of spaces, with each space representing a discrete event or data point. 

I wonder if wandering through a house or theme park is my subconscious brain’s way of integrating new information with old, plugging it in to its proper slots. Like defragging a computer. Maybe a mind, like a house or theme park, needs housekeeping to dispose of litter and sweep cobwebs out of the corners.

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The Kids Are Alright.* I saw the most wholesome thing on our morning walk: three boys who'd screwed wheels to the bottom of a wooden shipping crate and were taking turns pulling each other around the neighborhood. Kludged together and slightly dangerous, it was like a scene from a century ago. Like an "Our Gang" gag. I couldn't have been more delighted.

If you're driving through a residential neighborhood, slow down and don't cut corners. You never know what's coming around the bend.

*copyright 1965, The Who

Friends may recall that I am cohosting a podcast about "Captain America: The First Avenger" in which we examine one minute of the movie per episode. Sounds odd but it works. 

I haven't mentioned it much on social media because we post three episodes per week and I don't want to try everyone's patience, but we just recorded two episodes I'm especially proud of and want to advise folks to take a listen to:

Our guest for Episode 49 was my friend Justin Thompson, who in addition to being a fine cartoonist is also an actor and stunt performer who in a previous career actually portrayed Captain America in public appearances for Marvel. We talked about the responsibility that goes with putting on the red, white, and blue tights and the nature of heroism. Good stuff!

https://www.capminute.com/cm/podcast/minute-049-the-star-spangled-man-with-a-plan/

Two episodes later, our guest for Episode 51 was comic book writer Mark Waid, whose long career has featured acclaimed work for both DC and Marvel, including a long run on the Captain America comic book. We had a terrific discussion about how he analyzed and wrote the character of Steve Rogers, and what he thinks of the movies' interpretation of him. 

https://www.capminute.com/cm/podcast/minute-051-captain-america-issue-1/

Recommended! And if you like those, there's more where they came from.

Karen and I often watch the Antiques Roadshow on PBS, and last night someone said something that I liked so much I remembered it and looked it up this morning.

While discussing a rocking chair by mid-century designers Charles and Ray Eames, appraiser John Sollo praised the Eameses by saying: "I like people who trespass on the future."

What a neat way to say that they were ahead of their time. "Trespass on the future." I thought that was great! If it's a common expression, it's a new one to me. 

Two notes: One, Charles and Ray Eames were a married couple--Ray was Charles's wife--who did a lot more than design furniture. If you can picture Mid-century Modern design, art, architecture and even film, odds are they influenced it. Two, the chair was appraised for $800 to $1200.

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

A podcast host recently asked about my experiences with fans at comics conventions. It reminded me of my favorite con story of all.

It happened a few years ago at LumaCon, a small, free comics convention put on by librarians in Petaluma, Calif. to encourage love of reading, creativity, and wholesome fandom. It couldn’t be more sincere if it were Linus’s pumpkin patch. 

A boy about 14 came to my table with his father. The boy had autism, and he said very little. But he had a “How to Draw Dragonball Z” book and had gone through it, meticulously mimicking its manga style, and wanted to show me his work. 

I gently critiqued his drawings and asked if he’d created any characters and stories of his own. He turned to the back pages and showed me some original work, which I encouraged him to keep doing. His dad was beaming. The boy and I had a good chat and he left happy. 

Later, the father circled back to thank me and explain that he once worried his son would never talk. Then he discovered comics. His very first words, at the age of 9, were “Superman’s cape is red.”

Comics were the key to unlocking and engaging his mind. For the father, going from fearing his son might never speak to a few years later watching him share his art with a cartoonist at a comics convention was profoundly moving. 

"Superman’s cape is red."

You don’t forget something like that. 

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PLEASE SUBSCRIBE! I am sharing these little "250 Words On" essays via Substack, which will email a new one to your In Box every Tuesday morning. Just follow this link and enter your email address. It's free, and I promise to never use your address for evil purposes.

This enrages me, mostly because it hits near my home and heart. The Presidio of San Francisco is a beautiful national park at the foot of the Golden Gate Bridge and Trump just fired its entire board of directors. 

Trump has had it in for the Presidio for some time, partly because it's in Nancy Pelosi's hometown (ditto Alcatraz). It's a particularly poor target because it's actually a conservative's dream: a national park that pays for itself! The Presidio rents space to businesses, including LucasFilm's Industrial Light and Magic, and hasn't taken a penny of federal funds since 2013. If anything, it should be a right-wing model of "doing it right"! Instead, Trump seems determined to grind it into the sand. We'll see what his replacement board look like. 

The Presidio is a regional and national gem that I've explored and treasured. I can only hope, as the linked article says, that the legislation that created the Presidio Trust is robust enough to outlast a petty tyrant who's determined to destroy it out of spite. 

Karen and I, with our late dog Riley, picnicking on the Presidio parade grounds in 2023.

Saturday afternoon I dropped by the Charles M. Schulz Museum to see visiting cartoonist Henry Chamberlain, who was set up in the Education Room sketching pencil portraits for visitors and signing his new book George's Run, about the mid-century science fiction writer George Clayton Johnson (Twilight Zone, Star Trek, Logan's Run). 

In addition to being a cartoonist, Henry is a writer and podcaster who has interviewed me for his "Comics Grinder" YouTube program. I couldn't pass up the chance to see him in person, and we had a nice conversation. I always appreciate a chance to talk shop! Check out his website: https://comicsgrinder.com/

In the window at Copperfield's Books in Santa Rosa, Calif., my favorite heroic local independent bookseller.

Last night's Mom's Cancer talk and signing at Copperfield's in Santa Rosa was terrific! One of the best I've had in a long time. I didn't get a head count but would guess a few dozen...? As Karen said, you know it's going well when the bookstore has to roll away bookcases and find more chairs to handle the standing-room audience.

What made it great were the people who came: friends, neighbors, former coworkers, fellow cartoonists, an artist I haven't seen since we were in high school art class together, my sister Brenda (who had someone ask her to autograph their book, which I loved!), and even some people I DIDN'T know! They comprised a real "world's collide" cross-section of my life that showed up to support me, and that meant a lot.

Thanks to Leo from Copperfield's for hosting the event, glad we could sell a few books for you. Leo will also be selling books for my next scheduled public event on Saturday, May 16 at 2 p.m. at the Charles M. Schulz Museum. If you couldn't make this one, I hope to see you there!

Leo gave me a warm and flattering introduction. He and I have been through a few books together.
A different angle from the audience as I was getting started.
Monty Monty is a local assemblage sculptor who does beautiful work. We were in high school together but only really connected on Facebook in recent years. This was our first face-to-face in mmfty decades. He's one of two people I knew back then who've gone on to become a professional fine artist, which I respect tremendously. Check out http://www.montymontyart.com/
I was very happy to see my cartooning pal Lex Fajardo, creator of the "Kid Beowulf" comic and editor at the Schulz Studio. We don't exactly have a pact, but I think we try to show up for each other when we can, and I appreciate it! Check out https://kidbeowulf.com/