by Ben Zackheim | Nov 29, 2013 | Shirley Link & The Black Cat, Writing |
Our hometowns leave an impression. They help us define ourselves, for good or ill. My hometown of Santa Fe, NM was like a faceless fifth member of the family. I alternated between hating it and loving it, like a sibling who read my diary and then gave me a thoughtful birthday present. Its alternate routes, and hidden alleys and beautiful views and eccentric homeless citizens made for an adventurous childhood.
It was a good place to grow up and a horrible place to grow up. It had awful schools, which I miraculously avoided one way or another, and an intense friction between the Latino, White and Native American populations. It also had the richest cultural life in America, with a fascinating history and artists in every other house. Its winters were cold and snowy. Its summers were hot and dry. Its springs were rainy, the air filled with the smell of oncoming storms. There was a silence that spoke to you. There was poverty that could take your breath away.
It’s incredible that we all see these elements in our hometown. Maybe you grew up somewhere that was the exact opposite from where I did. A rural town maybe. Or a big city. But I bet you had the same extremes, and I bet they helped define you and how you see the world around you.
I was lucky. I ended up loving my hometown. I still yearn for it and all it promises. I see where it falls short, and I still love it. But so many people I know can’t stand where they came from. They’re out and they’re never going back. I wanted to explore that dynamic in a Shirley Link book to better understand it. I also wanted to tell a story, a hopeful one, to kids who are struggling with where they are.
In Shirley Link & The Black Cat, a young man, 17, and his girlfriend, also 17, are the prime suspects in a string of robberies. There’s very little evidence, if any, that they did anything wrong. But that doesn’t stop everyone, even Shirley for awhile, from jumping to conclusions. I tapped into a deep sadness as I wrote about them. They were flawed — mean, odd, petty. But they were that way for a reason. They’d constructed incredibly complex and effective weapons against their community, which, for whatever reason, decided they were outcasts. And they found each other so they could have something in their lives that wasn’t mean, odd or petty.
As I wrote this growing up story I rooted like hell for them. I didn’t know what would happen. It wasn’t mapped out. In the end, I depended less on my need for a happy ending than I did on my ever-developing sense of what we need from our youth. We need support and understanding. We need company. We need community. Either our family, school and hometown provides these things or they don’t. And if they don’t? My conclusion is that we still gravitate toward what will make us feel kind, loved and understood.
It made for the most realistic adventure in my middle school reader series. There are no pirates, or magic safes, or valuable comic books. Just two teens caught in a mess. And a fourteen year old amateur sleuth who wants to help, and who grows up a little bit in front of our eyes.
by Ben Zackheim
by Ben Zackheim | Sep 24, 2013 | Opine, Photo, Video |
Russ Hexter died in 1996 at the age of 27, and I still feel like giving him a call every day. He was the kind of best friend who dozens of other people called their best friend, too. Kind, generous, and so talented it was inspiring just to be around him. Yeah, it’s easy to put the dead on a pedestal, but Russ belongs there.
Just before his death he directed Dadetown, a mockumentary that helped define the genre. It screened at Sundance and blew audiences away. He was on a trajectory that was indisputable. He was Hollywood-bound. But knowing Russ, he would have kept his New York roots, even as the glitz of LA trained its eyes on him. He was just that way. He loved grit, and realism and he had a keen eye for what made it translate to film. He was scheduled to meet with Diane Keaton the day after he died to discuss directing her next film. I think they would have worked very well together. He was a huge fan and shared her sensibilities and sense of humor.
Recently, I was having one of those “how did I get here?” moments. They seem to happen more frequently as I grow older. I have a horrid memory as it is, so it’s always a bit of a dark comedy to be in my brain when I reminisce. Questions like, “did that really happen?” and “did I actually go to that party, or did I just hear about it happening?” plow through my head as I try to determine how much of life is what happens versus what I think maybe, kind, sorta, maybe not happened. One question I asked was “how did I end up writing a mystery series?” At first glance, it appears unlikely. I always liked action films, Star Wars, comic books. My life was supposed to be filled with super heroes and hidden identities. But when I dug deeper I remembered my love of Sherlock Holmes. I remembered my pile of Hardy Boys books. And I remembered Phillip Niles.
The Secret Files of Phillip Niles was a Russ Hexter student film. He asked me to play the lead for reasons I’ll never understand. I’m no actor, as you can see in the short film. But my love of mystery (and my old dream to be a detective like Sherlock) overcame my camera shyness. I’m glad I did. Watching the old movie (1988!) reminds me of the kind, efficient filmmaking Russ was known for. The shoot was as much a social scene as it was a set! We all had fun and I think it shows.
Sure, the film is rough. We were all just getting our hands on the equipment for the first time. It’s all voice-over and soundtrack. It was cut on an old Steenbeck. But you can see Russ’ love of story in every frame. And I hope you can see my love of being the sleuth hero. Thanks for the chance to go all Benedict Cumberbatch, Russ. I miss you!
by Ben Zackheim | Sep 1, 2013 | Writing |
Having a claw for a hand wasn’t so bad. Its prongs could grasp any surface. In fact, Sam had enough control to pick up an egg or crush a head, which is what he was doing.
The scream strained the average eardrum. Underling scientists whined in the corner of the lab. Sam’s victim was the scumball who cut his hand off, among other things, and used him as an experiment. No permission asked.
He deserved a death that treated him like dirt.
“Why?” Sam growled. The prong that was his new middle finger prepared to burst through the guy’s cranium.
“Oh God! It was a step!” he shrieked. He saw that Sam was listening. “A big step. One more Disposable and we…EVERYONE can live forever in steel bodies!”
“One more Disposable, huh?”
Sam broke his arms and tossed him to the scientists.
“Yay. There’s your Disposable. Get to work.”
[jetpack_subscription_form]
by Ben Zackheim | Aug 31, 2013 | Writing |
Mom always thought Jungle Jim was creepy, but I liked him. He sold ice cream and said hi to every kid in the playground. Sometimes, when a bunch of us said hello at the same time, he twirled in circles howling, “HELLOOOO!”
We laughed hard at that. The kids did. The grownups acted like they didn’t trust him.
The truth about Jim came out when Allison disappeared from the playground.
Her Dad was frantic.
He screamed, “ALLLLLLISOOOON!”, twirling around like Jim.
“Daddy?” Allison was across the street. I bet she was staring at toys in Walgreen’s window.
She crossed back without looking.
A car turned the corner, fast.
Jungle Jim jumped into the street and fell into Allison hard enough to knock her away.
Now he’s in the hospital. He’ll be okay. Allison’s dad is using his vacation to sell ice cream for Jungle Jim.
I think that’s super nice.
by Ben Zackheim | Aug 29, 2013 | Shirley Link & The Hot Comic, Shirley Link & The Safe Case, Shirley Link & The Treasure Chest |
Thanks to my dear friend, illustrator-extraordinaire Nathan Fox, you can now see Shirley in 3D!
I recently wrote a blog post about Nathan’s excellent 3D illustration tutorial. I joked that I could make the tutorial a weekend project, and draw my favorite sleuth. I’ve always wanted to see Shirley Link in 3D…
Put on your 3D glasses! This is what I found in my email a few hours after publishing my blog post:
I’ve loved 3D since I was a kid. When I first popped on those glasses and read some 3D comic books, I was hooked. It was a bummer that the trend never caught on. Of course, the big upside of being nichey is that any new 3D comic is super special.
I don’t think anything will ever match this illustration, though. Not in my opinion. Thanks Nathan! Now Shirley is that much more real.
