Matt Forbeck

“Writing is an act of discovery in which you peel back the layers of the story as you write it down.”
― Matt Forbeck

“Who the hell is Warren Ellis again?”
Hardison gaped at the man. “Only one of the greatest comics writers in the past twenty years. Might as well ask who Alan Moore is, or Frank Miller, or Mark Waid, or Brian Michael Bendis, or Marv Wolfman, or Geoff Johns.”

Eliot gave Hardison a blank look as they wove their way through the hall. Parker took the lead, toting a printed sign with her. Eliot and Hardison trailed in her wake. They made a point of striding right past Patronus’s booth. They didn’t turn to see if he noticed them.

“No one?” Hardison said. “Nothing? Not even Kurt Busiek? Neil Gaiman?”

“I have a life. I do things, active things. I date women.”
“Stan Lee?”

Eliot gave Hardison that one with a wag of his head. “Who hasn’t heard of Stan Lee?”

“All right,” Hardison said with satisfaction. “You had me worried there, man.”
― Matt Forbeck, The Con Job