Jason McNamara's Blog

I recently had the pleasure of appearing on the ComixLaunch Live show. With an all star panel of Kickstarter creators we discussed what it was like to return to the platform after a few years away. Enjoy!

I recently had the absolute privilege to be on the Serious Slack show with my old buddy Cerius Blaq. Listen to find out how often I get punched in the face. And as a bonus, we watched a Viagra Boys video. Enjoy!

The first stand alone chapter of PHANTOM LIMBS is coming to Kickstarter soon. Illustrated by Alberto Massaggia, with design work by Sonia Harris and written by myself.

What’s it about?

Adrian is a successful transplant surgeon who seemingly has it all: a career, a house in the hills, and a beautiful woman on his arm. But just as he is about to perform the most challenging procedure of his career, Adrian is shocked to discover his medical skills have been...stolen?

The thief plans to offer Adrian’s skills up for auction. Can Adrian regain the skills he worked so hard for, or will the price of talent be more than he can afford? 

PHANTOM LIMBS is a landscape comic book thriller, conceived to look good on your monitor or tablet. Telling a story in a landscape orientation supports the episodic nature of the stories, evoking the television anthologies that inspired it. 

Alberto, Sonia, and I previously worked together on the Past Tense graphic novel. With PHANTOM LIMBS, we are hitting our stride, testing out new ideas, and bringing out the best in each other. Right now, we have one episode finished, but my not-so-secret hope is that PHANTOM LIMBS could be an ongoing creative outlet for the three of us for years to come. So, please consider giving our project a follow and get notified when it goes live.

-Jason

In 1989, I was a regular MTV watcher and remember seeing an interview with the Beastie Boys. They were promoting their upcoming album, Paul's Boutique, and explaining where they had been for the past two years. "We spent a long time emerging from the studio." I was 14 then and thought it sounded like the most pretentious BS I ever heard. I also assumed License to Ill was a one-hit wonder, and the new album would suck (there's a reason I'm not a music critic).

It may have taken me a few decades, but I finally understand what they meant about "emerging from the studio."

Every creative endeavor has two components: the "making the thing" phase and the "introducing the thing to an audience" phase. This may be boastful or delusional, but I feel confident in my abilities to "make the thing."

When it comes to the "introducing the thing to an audience" phase? I'll be the first to admit I've lost a step. I've been an internal homebody since the pandemic hit, and it doesn't help that I equate social media with a visit to Chornobyl; I want to get in and out before the environment makes me sick.

Clearly, I’ve been inside the studio (and my head) for too long.

To combat this, I lined up a series of convention appearances to force me out of my comfort zone and sharpen my sales chops. I’m going to new cities and putting myself in front of what marketers might describe as “cold audiences.”

I was in Denver last month for the Fan Expo, and…what a fantastic experience. I forgot how fast a mini-community can establish itself at these events; your neighbors and peers essentially form a pop-up town for a few days. You want it to last forever.

I had rollicking conversations, made new friends, met some future collaborators, and generally had a great time celebrating the art form I love. And I nearly sold out of all the books I brought, proving I might not be as bad of a salesman as I thought.

Sometimes, just showing up is the hardest part.

If you are in Portland, Baltimore, Tacoma, or San Francisco, I am coming to town to talk to you. Yes, you! You can start by telling me how wrong I was about Paul's Boutique.

“So the lights are flashing, my mind is spinning. I feel like it is always the beginning…”

In 1989, I was a regular MTV watcher and remember seeing an interview with the Beastie Boys. They were promoting their upcoming album, Paul's Boutique, and explaining where they had been for the past two years. "We spent a long time emerging from the studio." I was 14 then and thought it sounded like the most pretentious BS I ever heard. I also assumed License to Ill was a one-hit wonder, and the new album would suck (there's a reason I'm not a music critic).

It may have taken me a few decades, but I finally understand what they meant about "emerging from the studio."

Every creative endeavor has two components: the "making the thing" phase and the "introducing the thing to an audience" phase. This may be boastful or delusional, but I feel confident in my abilities to "make the thing."

When it comes to the "introducing the thing to an audience" phase? I'll be the first to admit I've lost a step. I've been an internal homebody since the pandemic hit, and it doesn't help that I equate social media with a visit to Chornobyl; I want to get in and out before the environment makes me sick.

Clearly, I’ve been inside the studio (and my head) for too long.

To combat this, I lined up a series of convention appearances to force me out of my comfort zone and sharpen my sales chops. I’m going to new cities and putting myself in front of people who may not have ever heard of me before.

I was in Denver last month for the Fan Expo, and…what a fantastic experience. I forgot how fast a mini-community can establish itself at these events; your neighbors and peers essentially form a pop-up town for a few days. You want it to last forever.

I had rollicking conversations, made new friends, met some future collaborators, and generally had a great time celebrating the art form I love. And I nearly sold out of all the books I brought, proving I might not be as bad of a salesman as I thought. Sometimes, just showing up is the hardest part.

If you are in Portland, Baltimore, Tacoma, or San Francisco, I am coming to town to talk to you. Yes, you! You can start by telling me how wrong I was about Paul's Boutique.

I turned off the alarm and let my eyes adjust to the darkness. Eventually, the bedroom door comes into focus, the soft light in the hall giving it shape. I slip out from under my Spider-Man comforter and leap far enough away from the bed frame so that no one hiding underneath can grab my ankles. Opening the door as quietly as I can, to not disturb the dogs, I stumble forward, feeling my way along the walls. My final destination? The Twilight Zone...

My mother passed away a few years ago, and I often think about the ways, big and small, that she supported me in becoming the storyteller I am today. Having young parents who couldn't afford babysitters, I consumed what they did; Drive-In Horror Movies, Paperback Thrillers, and genre magazines.

By age eight, I was enjoying Ann Rule's True Crime books, alongside Stephen King novels, and any comic book I could get my hands on. And I watched a ton of TV; the stranger, the better. My favorite show was, of course, The Twilight Zone.

Whatever I had planned after elementary school, I made sure my tiny ginger butt was in front of the Television at 7 PM every weekday to watch syndicated re-reruns of the show. In an economic 30 minutes, these dark morality tales could introduce a mind-bending concept, entertain the hell out of you, and leave you questioning your very reality.

Having Rod Serling, in all his swagger, introducing each segment made it clear to my child's brain that there was a creative engine behind the show. A light went on in my brain, that I too, could one day have a job like that.

Then suddenly, and without warning...tragedy struck the 1983 TV guide. The Twilight Zone was moving from 7 PM to 1 AM. Taking its place was The Odd Couple. No child wants to watch a sitcom about divorced guys. I was devastated.

But my mom, who had patiently listened to all my Twilight Zone knockoff stories, had a proposal for me. If I got my homework done, finished my chores without complaint, and didn't tell my teachers or classmates, she would let me get up at one am to watch an episode of the Twilight Zone.

Like I said, she was a young mother.

And I did just that. Stumbling through the quiet of a house where everyone else is asleep. Wearing my Incredible Hulk onesies pajamas (we had to cut the feet off because i was too tall to fit in them anymore) and quietly making myself a "wake up" glass of strawberry Quik Milk (to take the edge off). I'd sit dangerously close to the TV and absorb episodes like The Living Doll, Night Call, or Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge.

In the middle of the night, with a mind at rest, these stories struck even deeper. I may not have clocked every allegory or social concern, but I understood that Twilight Zone episodes had a deeper meaning just below their surface. And then I would return to sleep, sometimes still on the couch, with a busy subconscious unpacking what I just watched. Because a good story, I was learning to appreciate, should give you something to think about when it's over.

I managed to keep up this schedule for a few weeks, but eventually, my love of an uninterrupted full night's sleep won out. My stint as a nocturnal television watcher may have been brief, but it did have a lifelong impact on me. Because on nights like this, when I wake up in the middle of the night and can't easily fall back asleep, I don't fight it.

Instead, I stumble out of bed, careful not to wake my wife or disturb the dogs, to spend some time in the quiet of my office to work on my own dark morality tales (or to write an overdue newsletter).

The time, outside of time, is a creative gift. My mother gave that to me.

I'm happy to report that the third and final volume of SUCKER is in production, and we have a new penciller. Industry veteran Chris Marrinanart (Wonder Woman, Dr. Strange) has joined the team! Check out his gorgeous layouts below.

I recently had the pleasure of appearing on the Art of Comic Book Writing where Jorge and I talked about writing for target audiences, pitfalls of world-building, and strategies for finishing the script. Give it a watch if you are so inclined!