This two page spread is probably the most important piece of Green Wake mythology that made it into the series. I will be breaking it down, panel by panel, to explain what the story means and how it ties into Ishum and the origin of the town itself.

Hence the title, Low Hanging Fruit.

I worked with artist Elaine Will who did some fantastic work on it, but she was unable to continue due to her focus on a very personal series she is working on, Look Straight Ahead. You can find a whopping 144 pages on her blog and read it from the beginning. It’s beautiful, trust me. http://lookstraightahead.blogspot.com/

If any artists out there would be interested in tackling this project with me, check my contact info and send me an email. In the meantime, enjoy the pages!

I plugged away at this career for 6 years before even a small publication happened, but as the years went on, my contact network expanded and I strengthened my craft. I still think back to my first comic script and cringe at how bad it was. If I work up the courage, I may post it. For posterity.

Enjoy!

Snow Angel: Plotting Points

Jo approached me with a scenario in mind for the femme fatale that was the prominent image for his production poster. We spoke at length over the phone about a mutual love of noir and crime stories, naming movies back and forth and in turn praising the title as one we enjoyed. It was obvious from the first conversation that we both knew what we wanted from Snow Angel: a gritty, crime story set in the backdrop of the drug stuffed era of the 70’s.

He asked me if I had seen Cocaine Cowboys, a documentary that came out in 2006 relating the events and details of the Medici Cartel’s drug running operations in Miami at the tail end of the 70’s and early 80’s. I hadn’t at that point, but he discussed with me in detail a powerful figure of that time,Griselda Blanco, nicknamed the Godmother.

This woman, by all means, was the ultimate badass. Her vendettas knew no boundaries, she murdered people if they crossed her, no matter how powerful their allies or relatives may have been. There were never extensions on late payments, failure to follow through on promises got you and every single person in your family killed.

A killer instinct and the total commitment to show abolute power was something both Jo and I saw in the woman Tyler had illustrated.

In essence, Griselda is a small influence in Snow Angel. However, when approaching this story I didn’t want to write the story of someone who’d already lived, I wanted this character to be my own, someone I could craft and develop over time. I really wanted to breathe life into the narrator and make the world around her feel that much more real.

The first question one has to ask is that if someone is a certain way, what events in their life led them to that point? It’s easy to hash together a life story that we’ve seen hundreds of times in film and print because the easiest answer sometimes is the most logical. In this case, Griselda herself was a sexually exploited woman who at a point in her younger years worked as a prostitute. It is legitimate grounds for someone to become emotionally disconnected and to harm those around her.

I felt differently about my character. One of my main issues with a lot of mainstream films and graphic novels is that most often a woman is strong only because of some awful injustice that was put upon her. Often times, they are of a sexual nature, and the strong, unshakable woman exists as such because she had to ‘toughen up’ or else remain a victim. Again, I’m sure there are cases of that, but it’s a cause of concern for me and I didn’t want to follow that same path. Why can’t this beautiful, strong woman be strong because she has chosen to be a leader and has the gumption to do so?

Of course, Snow Angel needed to have a strong theme, and while the tale of a young woman dominating the drug trade in Miami is certainly captivating, there needed to be something a little more.

I contemplated the story at length, really searching for an interesting angle that would have a great underlying message we could see and feel from beginning to end. Over coffee, my wife and I brainstormed several ideas and came up with a theme that I feel will really bring Snow Angel a life of its own.

Grim Leaper #1

PAGE ONE (4 Panels)

Panel 1. Cold autumn morning, outside an old Presbyterian church. It’s quaint, like something you’d see in a small prairie town. Behind shot of our protagonist, Lou, the wind ruffling his designer blazer. He wears a trendy scarf. He is looking up at the church, reflecting. There are a handful of other people walking up the steps. Grieving. This is a funeral. Lou will look different here, as he has already died a few times. He is now in the body of Blake Finley, a long haired redhead in good physical shape, mid-20s.

CAP 1                        EVER SINCE MY PARENTS DIED WHEN I WAS A KID, I’VE AVOIDED FUNERALS.

CAP 2                        SOMETHING ABOUT THE AWKWARD TENDERNESS, THE FALSE PRETENSE OF UNDERSTANDING WHAT THE HELL IT WAS YOU WERE GOING THROUGH.

Panel 2. Side shot as he walks up the steps, hands in pockets.

CAP 1                        THAT’S THE THING ABOUT DEATH, HOW WE EXPERIENCE IT IS UNIQUE TO EACH OF US.

Panel 3. Inside the church, an usher is handing Lou an In Memory program for the funeral. The man wears a somber face, but Lou looks cool as a cucumber. He’s brushing his hair back as he takes the pamphlet in his other hand.

CAP 1                        HOW WE COPE, WELL…THAT’S WHAT MAKES IT SO DAMN INTERESTING, ISN’T IT?

Panel 4. Shot of the front, where a closed casket sits, and an image of a young man, dark hair, sits propped up for all to see. A woman, his mother, stands near the casket and bawls, her husband consoling her.

CAP 1                        THING IS, I’VE BEEN TO A LOT OF FUNERALS LATELY.

PAGE TWO (5 Panels)

Panel 1. Lou spots a pretty young thing, Kara, dabbing her eyes with a tissue, sitting a few rows from the front. She has an empty seat beside her.

CAP 1                        HM, DIDN’T MEET HER.

Panel 2-4. Three panels side by side. Straight shot, Lou sitting next to the woman. Panel 2 Lou is looking straight ahead, the woman dabs her right eye. Panel 3 Lou is looking away from her, she dabs her opposite eye. Panel 4 Lou is leaning back, both arms draped over the back of the pew and the woman is looking at him now, a bit hesitantly. Each line of dialog corresponds with the panel.

CAP 1                        I’LL TELL YOU RIGHT NOW, IT’S NOT LIKE IN THE MOVIES.

CAP 2                        THEY ALWAYS SAY PEOPLE WANT TO FEEL ALIVE WHEN FACED WITH THEIR MORTALITY.

CAP 3                        THEY MEET A STRANGER AND THEN FUCK LIKE RABBITS.

Panel 5. Lou, moving in, putting on his charms.

CAP 1                        IT’S BULLSHIT.

LOU 1                        HEY, I’M L-

LOU 2                        HEH…

LOU 2                        YOU KNOW, I’VE DONE THIS A DOZEN TIMES ALREADY AND I STILL GET THAT WRONG.

KARA 1                       SORRY?

LOU 3                        I’M BLAKE.

CAP 1                        THIS IS ATTEMPT NUMBER THIRTEEN.

Safe

Evan couldn’t pull himself away from Valerie’s gaze. Her eyes, red and swollen, laced with tears, reminded him of where it had all began. It had started here, in the Starbucks on22nd Street, three years ago. Valerie wasn’t crying over him then. She had just stopped in for a cappuccino on her way to the funeral parlour; her father had passed away.

It was different knowing that the reason she felt pain was because of something he had done, something he could have so easily avoided by just listening to her. That’s all it would have taken, someone to give a damn.

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it,” Valerie said, wiping away a tear with her finger. She tried to cover up that she was hurting, but Evan knew her better than anyone.

There were roughly a thousand things he could have said but he knew not a single one would be what he wanted to convey. He was really sorry, yet sorry was so trivial. Evan nodded.

Valerie sighed and took a sip from her iced latte. Her hands were trembling. They often did when she was nervous. She breathed in, trying to take a deep breath but was only able to muster short staccato bursts, the way one often does when they cry.

“Emily is coming up tomorrow, helping me pack my things,” Valerie continued, nodding her head slowly. She looked out the window. It was unusually warm outside for October. “She hasn’t been up this way since last fall when we went on the hiking trip.”

“That’s good, Val, I’m sure it will be good to see her.” He stared into his coffee mug and took a deep breath when silence followed.

Valerie took another sip. Evan still thought the way her lips scrunched up over a straw was cute. She always half closed her eyes when she sipped from one. He couldn’t help but remember the silly straws they won at the summer carnival. Valerie had a wonderful time that night.

“Mom couldn’t make it. She really wanted to see you, but…well, you know,” Valerie said with a fading smile. “She understands, really she does. I think she’s going to miss you though, Evan.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Why are you doing this, Evan? Why are we doing this?”

“Doing what, Val?”

“We’re sitting in the same coffee shop we met in, pretending like it’s just another Saturday.”

“It is Val, it is just another Saturday.”

“No it’s not, Evan, no it’s not. Did you think asking me here would make it easier, or were you just being melodramatic again?”

“I did think it would be easier. I thought the memories might soften things a little.”

“Oh my god, Evan, this isn’t a damn movie. Do you even remember why I was here three years ago?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, of course, how I could forget Mr. Sensitive himself is sitting across from me,” Valerie said as the tears began to flow again.

“Look, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Well you did, Evan. I should just go.”

“No, please, wait.”

“Why, what can possibly come of this? It’s over Evan, you made sure of that.”

“I just… I don’t know… something.”

“Something?” Valerie asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Her forearms were red and Evan knew right away that she was furious. Her demeanor was the first sign, but she never stayed mad for long unless her forearms had turned red. That was the permanent angry. “Alright, well you come up with something. I’m going home.”

She stood from the chair, grabbed her purse and tucked it under her arm. Evan put his hand on her forearm.

“Please, give me time.”

“Time for what?” she snapped.

“Time to…”

Evan looked down and stared at the table, unable to find anything to say to her. Three years of his life with a woman he loved. He couldn’t bear the thought that she would walk out that door and curse his name. Evan looked back up at her. She was a stone, impervious to anything he could possibly say.

“It’s over, Val. I guess I needed to come here to know for certain.”

It wasn’t what she had expected. He could tell by the way Valerie’s eyes squinted and how the left corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly. They stood there, staring silently at each other for minutes. Valerie slowly sat down again.

“Do you remember when I said…”

“I don’t want to remember, Evan, I’m not here to reminisce. It took everything for me to get out of bed this morning. Please, spare me making even more of a scene, alright?”

“Do you remember when I said that I wanted to marry you because I loved you?”

“Yes,” Valerie whispered.

“Did you believe me?”

“Yes,” she whispered again.

“Why?”

“I don’t know Evan, because we had been together for long enough to know that you loved me?”

“See, that’s just it. When did it become about time?”

“Evan…”

“I mean it, Val. That’s all we did, we… we aged together. We used to be alive, you know, there was this… thrill.”

“Is that what this is about… the sex?”

“I‘m not talking about sex Valerie, I’m talking about how we used to feel together. You grew distant, I stopped listening… I stopped caring. Nothing separated Monday from Tuesday except for what we ate in between. You never saw that, you still don’t!”

“You don’t think I ever felt any of that? I laid beside you every night feeling like I loved a stranger.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?”

“I did, Evan. But you were like a ghost. I swear I was alone all the time.”

“You deserved better than that,” Evan said.

“I know I deserved better, but I deserved it from you, not the next man who comes along. You owed me that much, Evan. Was it that hard to love me?”

“No.”

“Then why are we here, why are we doing this to each other? Do you still love me?”

“Yes.”

There was a long pause and Valerie wringed her hands together. Her eyes darted back and forth. Evan knew she was debating something in her head.

“No, I won’t do this to myself. I don’t want you back, Evan. It feels like I do, but every time I do this I get hurt. You had your chance to be with me, but you were too busy to notice I was gone.”

“I didn’t bring you here…”

“Let me finish. Let me speak and please for once, just listen to me.”

Evan nodded. He wanted to speak, but right now so did Valerie and it was her turn to escape the numbness that he knew they both felt.

“When my father started to overnight at the hospital, I came here to get away from it all. I couldn’t stand to see him suffer, and I knew deep down he was ashamed to be seen by mom and me. I never drank coffee until then, not until I came here. I saw you that day, Evan. I saw you a few times every now and then, tucked away in the corner reading your stupid fantasy books. God, I doubt you even noticed me.

It was like everything inside this place was safe, and I hate saying that about a place like this, but it could have been anywhere, Evan. It could have been at the mall or the bar… but it was here. When dad died, I came here to feel safe. I didn’t order a coffee, I just sat down and prayed that the day would end.

It didn’t end. Dad was still gone and I was still a grieving daughter sitting alone, coping the only way she knew how. You changed that. You changed everything by sitting down with me. You didn’t say a thing, you just sat there. In that moment, it wasn’t the place that made me feel safe, it was you.”

Valerie cried. She continued with a broken voice between gentle sobs.

“I’m sorry I put that on you, Evan. It wasn’t fair that you were the one to shoulder all of it, but you were my goddam hero that day.”

“Everyone loves a hero,” Evan said. He didn’t smile.

“Sometimes I wonder if maybe you thought I expected you to be a hero all the time. I never wanted that, I wanted you to feel comfortable with me. I never wanted that Evan, you need to know that.”

Evan nodded. He wanted to be her hero all the time, but he was only human.

“I… I just needed you to know that before I said good-bye,” Valerie said as she wiped the tears from her cheeks and blew her nose with a tissue. She stood up again and looked at Evan with sorrowed eyes. “I have to go, Evan. You wanted to meet here, is there anything you needed to say?”

Evan stood from his chair and stepped to Valerie. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, tears flowing from his eyes, and whispered into her ear.

“Good-bye.”

At any rate, one of the first comic shorts in the magazine’s first issue was Faith, which is pictured here. We were debuting the magazine at the Calgary Entertainment Expo a full year after the release of Snow Angel (this was 2009, I believe) and we wanted to have some sort of Snow Angel content for the people who bought the comic the previous year. This is what came of it, a 5 page short telling a bit of an origin story of The Caesar. If you haven’t read it yet, you can purchase it on Amazon, or, even better read it for free here: http://www.tylerjenkins.ca/?gallery=snow-angel (sub-categories beneath Snow Angel show Issues 2, 3, and 4.)

Once you’ve read that, check out this 5 pager, one I’m still very proud of.

1) We needed to test artists as possible replacements for Riley. (This is how I inadvertently became connected to Grim Leaper artist, Aluisio Santos)

2) I noticed the website http://www.thought-balloons.com/ was using Green Wake as one of its studies. I wanted to contribute.

I wrote this little piece about Carl, which at the time probably seemed like a throwaway to anyone who got a chance to read it, but if you’ve read the first volume (Issues 1-5) you’ll know what he’s talking about now. Below is the adaptation by Aluisio Santos.

Enjoy!

Green Wake - Carl

1. Carl leaning on the rail of a cobblestone bridge, the cold iridescent river bubbling quietly beneath. Black skies, silver light creeping through, hinting at more beyond. He’s lost in thought, peering through the bottom of a whiskey bottle, using it like a filter to watch the water rush by.

CAP Everyone’s got a line. The moment you cross it, you know. You just fucking know.

2. Inside the bottle, a reflection of Carl’s eye in the remaining whiskey.

CAP All these little back steps, trying to recover. Tip toeing and egg shell walking. So weird how we do that.

3. Carl taking a swig of the whiskey, eyes closed as he powers through the burn.

CAP Like we’re making things better by our inattention to the details.

4. Carl tosses the whiskey bottle as far as he can.

CAP Happy with the lies.

5. Shot of the bottle as it drifts toward the camera, Carl watching it go.

CAP I could still be happy with you, Ariel.

6. Carl, walking away from the camera, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

CAP Happy with you and your fucking lies.

http://whatisgreenwake.blogspot.com/

We included some real photos taken during WW1 by Robin Rossmo’s (Riley’s wife) grandfather. Some have been modified for effect, but they are gorgeous and chilling. Enjoy.