project one hundred
Scripts are starting to come in, and I've made comments on those that needed them.
My editorial style is to encourage the voice of the author in the context of the premise of the project - not to write it myself. I'm just glad that Vin and I are fortunate to work with good writers.
One of the goals of Project One Hundred is to establish a process of sorts for similar endeavors, with a schedule for idea conceptualization, pitch, deliberation, scripting, critique and revision (on the writing side); with a parallel approach to the art side of things. Hopefully, this will result in a tighter and more cohesive end product, brimming with focused creativity. We're also pushing the book design up a notch, throwing in a number of pages other than the requisite story pages for the purpose of letting book breathe (and feel like a book as opposed to run-of-the-mill grafiction).
Apart from the editorial role (which I share with Vin), I'm wrapping up my own script, complete with its own challenges and conceit.
Great fun.
thingamajig
The gang finally got to meet Camy, El's paramour, and we decided to break tradition and hang out at Rockwell, with music from Monk's Dream.
There the siren call of Fully Booked was too powerful to ignore and I found myself lusting after several books I did not expect to find on a Saturday night: two volumes of Kochalka's Monkey Vs. Robot, Bendis' Jinx, a new volume of Eightball, American Splendor and a plethora of other goodies. Ultimately, I made my willpower check and left without spending a cent.
The game for the evening was Thingamajig, a word definition game which eleven of us played. Camy won two of initial four games, twarthing the competive ones among us (me included). I also realized that my friends were not as sophisticated as I imagined (who doesn't know the ingredients of a Wafu Salad?) and thus paid the price. Grrr.
song for a new generation
As the wee hours of the morning arrived, some of us older people left for home, while some of us went out with the youngbloods to go singing.
From what I heard from Nikki (who came home at the crack of dawn), it was a riot.
Scripts are starting to come in, and I've made comments on those that needed them.
My editorial style is to encourage the voice of the author in the context of the premise of the project - not to write it myself. I'm just glad that Vin and I are fortunate to work with good writers.
One of the goals of Project One Hundred is to establish a process of sorts for similar endeavors, with a schedule for idea conceptualization, pitch, deliberation, scripting, critique and revision (on the writing side); with a parallel approach to the art side of things. Hopefully, this will result in a tighter and more cohesive end product, brimming with focused creativity. We're also pushing the book design up a notch, throwing in a number of pages other than the requisite story pages for the purpose of letting book breathe (and feel like a book as opposed to run-of-the-mill grafiction).
Apart from the editorial role (which I share with Vin), I'm wrapping up my own script, complete with its own challenges and conceit.
Great fun.
thingamajig
The gang finally got to meet Camy, El's paramour, and we decided to break tradition and hang out at Rockwell, with music from Monk's Dream.
There the siren call of Fully Booked was too powerful to ignore and I found myself lusting after several books I did not expect to find on a Saturday night: two volumes of Kochalka's Monkey Vs. Robot, Bendis' Jinx, a new volume of Eightball, American Splendor and a plethora of other goodies. Ultimately, I made my willpower check and left without spending a cent.
The game for the evening was Thingamajig, a word definition game which eleven of us played. Camy won two of initial four games, twarthing the competive ones among us (me included). I also realized that my friends were not as sophisticated as I imagined (who doesn't know the ingredients of a Wafu Salad?) and thus paid the price. Grrr.
song for a new generation
As the wee hours of the morning arrived, some of us older people left for home, while some of us went out with the youngbloods to go singing.
From what I heard from Nikki (who came home at the crack of dawn), it was a riot.
posted by Dean at
1:55 AM
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