RIP Dennis O'Neil

I have written and rewritten hundreds and hundreds of words since I got the news first thing this morning. And none of those words seem right. None come close to capturing who Denny was or what he meant to me and my life. I don't have anywhere near enough skill. And even if I did, I just...I can't right now.

The world feels different today. It's like gravity has shifted somehow—not so much less of it, or more or it. More like...it's not quite straight down any longer, but is now off to the side somewhere. Not a ton. Just a bit. But enough to make everything feel off-kilter, askew. The planet's still revolving, still rotating. But it's not the same. It's not the same.

illustration by the incomparable Brian Stelfreeze

Batman: Kings of Fear — That 25 Panel Page

When Kelley Jones and I first starting talking about Batman: Kings of Fear, one of the many things we discussed was our mutual love for pages with a lot of panels on them. The earliest comics had 8 panels on the average page. By the 1970s, the average seems to have been more like 7 panels per page. By the 1990s, for a variety of reasons, the average comic page probably had 5 panels. (Except for the Kelley Puckett/Mike Parobeck/Rick Burchett/Rick Taylor run on The Batman Adventures, which I insisted never have more than four panels per page at the very most...but that's another story.)

But, of course, in the 1980s, the 9-panel-grid became quite popular, thanks to its prominent use in Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons' Watchmen, one of the two most influential comics of that (and maybe any) decade.

(For example.)

Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns (the other most influential comic of the 1980s) used the 16-panel-grid to devastating effect.

Not to be outdone, Matt Wagner decided to up the ante in Grendel, going for a 25-panel-grid.

Kelley and I talked about all this. Feeling perhaps just the tiniest bit vexatious, I wrote this into the script:

Page Six 

Panels One to Whatever 

Kelley! This is one of those pages we talked about, going for something crazy, like a 12- or 16-panel grid or something insane like that, the kind of thing that, let’s be honest, no one would willingly attempt these days. No one sane that is. In other words, go nuts! Have fun! Remember to keep well hydrated!
So. I think what we’ve got on this page are ECUs on the Batman taking out every badguy in the place. His elbow connecting with a nose, his boot with a knee, his hand grabbing a weapon, a palm strike to a chin, teeth flying, blood spatter, cape whirling, a terrified eye peering around a razor-sharp bat-ear, that kind of thing. As many as you want. They could be all the same size or they could get smaller as the page goes along and he goes faster and faster? They could start out tight and keep getting tighter until the final ones are almost just shadows? Your call—you’re the master.

Kelley read that panel description, said "hold my beer," and delivered...this.

My jaw hit the ground when I saw it and neither my jaw nor the ground have fully recovered yet.

(And Kelley sent me the pencils to that page over three years ago and I couldn't tell anyone. Job looks at me and is, like, "damn, sam, you're patient.")

Impossibly, brilliant colorist Michelle Madsen did the impossible and actually made the black and white art look even better, which is just...impossible.

I think Kelley thought the way he took my idea and ran with it to Proxima Centauri and back would shut me up. Little did he know it simply encouraged me to throw more and more unreasonable demands his way...which brings us to the fifth issue, which he happens to be drawing today...

Detective Comics #726

I've been a fan of Gotham Calling for some time. And this particular installment was a lot of fun because, despite the fact that I worked, in some manner, on almost every book listed, I have very little memory of most of them. And yet just the sight of the covers brought back a rush of pleasure. It was a heady time to be working in comics, and especially on the Batman.

But this one bit especially tickled me:

[I’ll skip Detective Comics #726, which is clearly an inventory story used as a fill-in – it’s a neat standalone tale, but it doesn’t seem to take place in this era of Gotham.]

because, although of course there's absolutely no way he could have known, he also could not have been much more wrong. This was no inventory story—far from it. This was an issue planned long, long in advance. 

Detective Comics #726 was the 700th issue of Detective Comics since the Batman's first ever appearance, way back in Detective Comics #27, cover date May 1939. 

I wanted to do something special to mark the occasion, but I also wanted it to be understated, given the huge crossovers we'd been doing for a few years at that point — Knightfall, Contagion, Legacy, Cataclysm — and the ginormous crossover — No Man's Land — we were about to undertake. So I wanted something worthy of the occasion but something that, at the same time, was in some ways, not all that big a deal. 

So I decided to just do A Very Special Batman™ sort of issue. First, I decided it would feature the Joker, because of course it would. Chuck Dixon would write it, as he was the book's regular writer and one of the greatest Joker writers in the character's history. And I decided to get the impossibly brilliant Brian Stelfreeze to illustrate it, because he's impossibly brilliant and because it would be the first full-length comic book he'd illustrated in nearly a decade and that alone was special. 

I also decided to play to both those gentlemen's considerable strengths. So the story would go back and forth between two (and ultimately three) different timelines. So on one page, we'd have six-panel-grids of the Batman simply talking to the Joker in his cell in Arkham Asylum, each trying to outwit the other. On the subsequent page, we'd have a full page splash of the Batman in action, facing impossible odds and, of course, ultimately succeeding. No one does clearer, more exciting action than Chuck Dixon or Brian Stelfreeze. And, although it's not what they get called upon to do nearly as much, no one does better incisive, emotionally compelling quiet scenes than Chuck Dixon or Brian Stelfreeze.

We wouldn't worry about continuity—we made sure that if there were no direct allusions to ongoing storylines, there also wouldn't be anything which might contradict current continuity either. Basically, it should be able to fit in just about anywhere in the Batman's history.

I also wanted a story which, if you were unfortunate enough to never read it, well, that sad fact would do absolutely nothing to ever detract from your understanding or enjoyment of any other Batman story. But if you had read it, every subsequent Batman story would be just the teeniest, tiniest bit different for you. Easy-peasy, right?

And since that wasn't quite enough, I decided to force my brilliant and oh so accommodating creative team to jump through one more hoop: the kidnapping victim would be played by my own daughter, Kate, then all of three years old.

the original photo reference

original artwork gifted by Brian Stelfreeze to his young cover model

And because those guys are those guys they did everything I could ever have hoped for and more. I guess it's not surprising that 20+ years later, it remains one of my favorite things to have ever worked on.

model and artist, reunited many years later at SDCC

Bruce Wayne by Brian Stelfreeze

And sometimes when you're packing for a big move you find yet another Brian Stelfreeze painting and for a little while you forget how tired and dusty and cranky you are.

Black Panther: a storytelling masterclass

When I heard that Ta-Nehisi Coates—long one of my favorite writers—and Brian Stelfreeze—long one of my favorite artists, not to mention favorite people—were teaming up to work on a Black Panther monthly, I was over the moon excited. These pages show exactly why.

All right. So this is from the fourth issue. By now the readers are already well acquainted with these characters: T'Challa, who's the king of Wakanda—as well as being the Black Panther, of course—and Ramonda, his stepmother, the queen mother. But even if you didn't know any of that, even if these were the only two pages you'd ever read, you'd get much of that from the dialogue, which uses their names and/or titles unobtrusively, clueing you in to their relationship and artfully filling in some previously unknown but important backstory, as well as some of the nuances of their own relationship.

Now look at the elegance of the way each page is composed. The first with its bookends of widescreen panels, while the middle tier is composed of identically sized vertical panels, is a model of balance. The two widescreen panels show essentially the same thing, T'Challa and Ramonda having breakfast. But because the second is significantly panned in, there's nothing monotonous about repeating a similar shot. Similarly, each panel in the middle tier is the same shape and size (save for the round panel borders on the first two, denoting that they're flashbacks, and major damn props for the old school storytelling there), with one character in each the primary focus. But because Brian moves the camera in and out, up and down, each image feels fresh. Adding to all this, of course, is absolutely stellar color work by the magnificent Laura Martin, who not only renders the very first panel as though Maxfield Parrish were painting a Wakandan cityscape, but adds to the clarity of the flashbacks by going monochromatic, but using a different palette for each, to denote different times in the past.

The second page, by contrast, is just as elegantly laid out, but Brian chooses an alternate approach: again, three tiers, but this time only the middle tier is widescreen, while the first has three equal sized panels and the bottom two. Again, a perfectly balanced page, but with enough variety to keep the eye fully engaged—and note, too, how often on this second page we're treated to subtle downshots: literal bird's eye views of this high high above the city's streets scene.

But here's the thing. Check out the way Brian reveals how T'Challa is feeling during this conversation. It starts with him sitting at the table, but as the talk progresses, he moves further and further away from his stepmother—except that they're on a balcony, so there's only so far away he can move. But he gets every bit as far away as possible, until by the final panel, his heels seem to literally be hanging over the edge.

Now, if he were any other character, you'd infer from this that the guy was suicidal, or at least reckless, or perhaps drunk or even just plain stupid. But T'Challa is precisely none of those things: he's the Black Panther, which means he's in complete command of his body. He knows exactly where he is and what's perfectly safe for him to do, even if it wouldn't be for just about any other human. He knows he's not going to fall, but if he were to, he wouldn't be killed on account of his suit—although, even then, things probably wouldn't get to that point, as he'd be able to arrest his fall, most likely, because, again, he's the Black damn Panther, and that's how badass he is.

Or how badass he can be. He's only this badass in this exact situation because of the choice his badass artist made to show, in one small understated panel, this subtle, incisive bit of characterization.

Brian Stelfreeze: The Flash!

So I've been asked to write a piece about Brian Stelfreeze, which is convenient, since it's one of my favorite things to do anyway. I start writing about a poster of The Flash Brian painted back in the 90s but for once my normally outstanding google-fu is failing me; according to the internet, Brian did no such thing. But I'm sure he did—it was hanging up all over the DC Comics offices. And yet.

Naturally, I write Brian and ask him if I'm losing my mind. He draws one fewer Black Panther panels that day, instead sending me a copy of the mythical painting in question. It looks even better than I'd remembered, and I'd loved it at the time.

So it's official. I haven't completely lost my mind, not yet. And here, internet—this is for you: Brian Stelfreeze's painted Flash poster. You're welcome.

Detective Comics #726

Ran across this today. I think of this issue often, for a number of reasons, but I'd forgotten about this particular page. Which is kinda funny, since it features the Batman choking me out.

That's right, I'm the one Batman's choking with his right hand.

Also featured on this page are some of artist Brian Stelfreeze's other favorites, such as Cully Hamner, Karl Story, Jordan B. Gorfinkel (twice! boy, he must have really hacked off the Dark Knight), Darren Vincenzo and Mike Cotton.

Kinda weird that I sometimes forget about this page. Probably a spot of brain damage due to oxygen deprivation.

Showcase '94 #12

My first writing credit. I wrote about how it came to happen over here. Even now, I still can't believe my first story as a writer was illustrated by Brian Stelfreeze and (although not yet added to the credits box) colored by Mark Chiarello. Crazy.

I'm Telling Tales: The First Oracle Stand-Alone Story

In 1994, I wrote—and Brian Stelfreeze illustrated, to my everlasting delight—DC Comics' first-ever stand-alone story about Oracle. The other day I contributed a guest post about it to DC Women Kicking Ass's tribute to Oracle: The Story of the First Oracle Stand-alone.

Neal Pozner stopped by. “So,” he said. “A little birdie tells me you want to write an Oracle story. Great. Get me an outline by the end of the week.” 

 You can read the whole thing here.

The First Time I Met Brian Stelfreeze

It was early 1993 and Brian came to New York for what I might erroneously remember as the first New York Comic-Con. He stopped by DC and pretty much just hung out in my office. I’m not sure he’d told anyone he was coming, so he didn’t really seem to have any plans. Which was great, as far as I was concerned. He and I had spoken on the phone for I don’t even know how many hours—I’d guess at least a few dozen by that point, but maybe more like a hundred, but we’d never met or even seen a photo of each other, in those ancient pre-internets times. It was funny to watch the various editors and freelancers come in and be coolly polite…until I introduced him, at which point their eyes invariably lit up and they turned into gushing fanboys.

Anyway, he was just hanging out in my office when I got a phone call from the guy who was supposed to have sent me a cover that day. He said he’d missed FedEx but that I’d have it in the morning. Things were, not unusually, just the tiniest bit behind schedule, and if I didn’t have it the next day I was in trouble.

“You need me to do a cover?” Brian asked.

I shrugged. “Well,” I replied. “He said it was in FedEx…”

Brian laughed, “Yeah, but you know artists.”

I had to nod. Brian was not entirely unfamiliar with the occasional lapse in timeliness encountered by comic book creators.

“You got some paper and pens?” he said.

“I should have the cover tomorrow,” I said. “I don’t want you to have to draw an entire cover if it’s not necessary.”

Brian shrugged. “I got no other plans tonight. If you get the guy’s cover tomorrow, no problem. If not, you use mine.”

This was too good to be true. It was a win-win any way you looked at it. When your worst-case scenario is that you get a Brian Stelfreeze cover, your life is really, really swell.

So we went down to Production, and (again, if I’m recalling correctly) inker Ray McCarthy, then a staff production artist, set Brian up at a desk with paper, pencil, and a brush and ink. I’d given Brian the broadest of overviews as to what the story was about. “I’m on it,” he said.

Did he do a thumbnail? I assume he did, but can’t remember for sure. I do remember him penciling the cover in about, no kidding, 10 minutes. Needless to say, they were loose pencils…by his standards. But the basic drawing, no surprise, was absolutely flawless.

But then he started inking. And I watched as the cover seemed to materialize, like he was pulling it up and out of the paper. He kept rotating the board, spinning it this way and that way, ridiculously quickly, like a chef flipping pizza dough.

I had unbreakable plans with my then girlfriend, now wife, who was only in town for a few days, so I couldn’t stay. I watched as long as I could, then rushed out the door.

The next morning I walked in to find this sitting on my desk.



The perspective, the incredible sense of motion, the crazy-great drawing ability, even the delightful copyright infringements to which my editor’s eye was drawn instantly…it was humbling to be fortunate enough to work with someone that talented.

The cover from the original artist did show up in FedEx that day, but we later ran Brian’s as a pin-up since it was far too good not to be seen. And a while later he said, “Oh, hey, remember that cover I did for you in the offices that night? Yeah, that’s yours.” I put up the lamest of objections to such largess, but he could tell it was pro forma.

Like I’m gonna turn that down. Pretty good first date, all things considered.