Steve Draws Stuff

GOATS EAT CANS IS COMING!

2012-01-26T10:28:00.000-08:00

With the Forts series wrapped up, I've moved onto something else, and believe it or not that something else is getting released in March!

Goats Eat Cans is coming soon!

What the heck is Goats Eat Cans and why should you care about it?Trust me when I tell you that you're going to like this thing.

If you hated Forts and you hate me for writing Forts, you're still going to like this.

Goats Eat Cans isn't Forts. It's nothing like Forts.Nothing at all.

Click the picture below to head over the official Goats site.You won't regret it.

Maybe.

ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS IS NOW AVAILABLE!

2011-11-15T10:18:00.001-08:00

The final part of the Forts trilogy is now available in both ebook and print editions. For all the links fit to link check out MY WEBSITE!The Kindle edition can be found by simply clicking the picture above.Let me just say that it feels great to finally have this series wrapped up. Could things have gone smoother? Sure. Would I have preferred to not have the issues with the original publisher of the series? Of course. In the end, I wrote three books.Me. I did that.That's nearly 600,000 words and three years of my life. Despite everything that's happened and the way things played out, it's something to be proud of. I like Forts.It was important to me to write it and even more important that I finished it. It was fun and it was therapy, and I learned a lot about myself and my work from it, and in the end I wouldn't change a word.That's a pretty cool thing.Steven

ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS SAMPLE CHAPTER!

2011-11-02T08:44:00.000-07:00

The book is arriving soon. Really soon. Before you know it, I'll be asking you to fork over some of your hard earned cash to read it.

Until then, here's some free stuff.

16. TEMAZCAL
The heat was sweltering. The summer had been particularly rough and dry, and altogether uncomfortable. This was an angry heat, tailor-made for the suffering of those forced to live through it. In the backyard of the Jarvis family, tucked safely beneath the shade of a thick-trunked Oak Tree, sat the house of the family dog, Mr. Button. Built when Button was a pup, the years were noticeably rough on the modest dwelling. The rain had warped its walls and rusted the nails holding them perilously in place. Once a crisp, almost blinding shade of white, the paint had been peeling away for quite some time, exposing the worn and damaged wood beneath in softball sized clumps of pure ugly. The roof was little more than ragged jumble of partially rotted materials, and the likelihood of the structure's collapse grew substantially with every passing day. So pathetic was this shell of a once proud doghouse that Mr. Button had taken to lying outside rather than in. Even he was capable of understanding it was a disaster waiting to happen.
Despite the heat and the ever-present fear of being buried beneath a heap of rotted wood, jagged sheet metal and copper colored nail chips, eight year old Tommy Jarvis had been sitting cross-legged inside the funky-smelling piece of construction for hours. His hair was soaked with perspiration, his clothes drenched so thoroughly they could literally be ringed out. The dirt beneath him transformed into a moist, muddy-wet stew of yellow-tinted sweat and soil that smelled as bad as it looked. His throat was dry and his lips cracked to the point that that act of running his tongue across their surface no longer accomplished anything at all.
Despite his aching bones, and the fact that his vision had begun to blur, young Tommy had no intentions of leaving.
He was determined to remain exactly where he was. He wanted to sit there, and stay there, and keep himself angry, because anger was what he was feeling, and because it was all he wanted to feel. Would it have been possible, Tommy might have sat in that exact spot forever, until his skin peeled away, caught the breeze and fluttered off, until his bones turned to dust and became indiscernible from the ground beneath.
That would teach them: his mom and his dad, that annoying jerk Donald Rondage. That would teach them all.
From just outside the doorway, on the wobbly roof of the modest doghouse, came a series of knocks that gently rattled the warped timber of the surrounding walls. Tommy didn’t look up. Instead, he pulled his knees close to his chest, folded his arms around his shins, and buried his head against the dusty-moist denim of his pants.
“Tommy? Come on out, bud.”
It was his father’s voice. His father was the last person he wanted to talk to. His father would try to calm him down, try to make him forget how angry he was. He wanted his father to go away.
“Come on Tommy. You can’t stay in there all day. I know you think you can, and I bet you want to, but you can’t.”
“Yes I can.” Tommy mumbled into his drawn legs defiantly. And he believed it.
He would have stayed there all day, and all of the next day and the day after that. He would have done anything to prove his father wrong.
Then they’d see. Then they’d all understand.
Outside the doghouse that Mr. Button previously resided and was now home to his son, Chris Jarvis wiped a puddle of sweat from his forehead and glanced briefly into the sky. The heat was unbearable, and he was overdressed. He wanted a cool drink. He wanted to go inside, to sit just below the vent on the ceiling in the living room and let the air conditioning chill his troubles away. As hot as it was outside, he imagined it was doubly bad for his son. Though the doghouse was in the shade, it was small, and the metallic roof was undoubtedly absorbing the heat and locking it within, essentially transforming it into a stinky, dog-smelling hot-box. According to his wife, Tommy had been sulking inside Mr. Button’s humble abode for hours, ever since he got home from school. Chris needed to get his son out. His day at work had been extra-long and more frustrating than normal, but his son was his priority. Rest could come later.
“Well, if you won’t come out, I’m just going to have to come in.”
Dropping to his knees, Chris managed to wedge the top half of his body through the tiny doorway before realizing it was as far as he could go. The heat inside was absolutely blistering. Less than a second after jamming himself in the doorway, he began to feel lightheaded. A moment after that, breathing became noticeably more difficult. A few feet away with his back to the rear wall and his knees pulled tightly to his chest, Chris spotted his eldest son. Though the boy’s face was buried in the folds of his light blue jeans, Chris could tell Tommy had been crying. This information didn’t make things any simpler: quite the opposite, in fact.
“So you want to tell me what happened, bud?” Chris asked calmly while digging his elbows into the dirt and propping himself up.
Tommy chose to remain mum.
With the top of the doorway slicing into his back and resulting in considerable discomfort, Chris took a moment to reposition himself before continuing. “Come on. I can’t help you if you won’t let me.”
Again his son remained stoic, his stringy blond hair dripping with perspiration created by the immense heat.
“You know, this isn’t how we handle problems in our family, Tommy. We don’t run away from them. We don’t hide away and avoid them, and we don’t pout. Things don’t ever change unless you change them yourself. I know that kind of sucks, but that’s just the way it is.” Reaching forward, Chris gently placed his hand on his son’s sweaty head and massaged the clumps of damp hair. “Tell me what happened and we’ll take care of it together. That’s another thing we don’t do in this family; we don’t handle things alone. Your mom and I are here to help you whenever you need it. Whatever happened, we can fix it. I promise.”
Tommy could feel the palm of his father’s hand on his head, feel it mashing against his skull, feel his fingers moving reassuringly across the tender skin of his scalp. Despite his anger and in spite of his frustration, the boy could not deny the fact that the simple gesture almost instantly caused him to feel better. His father always had the ability to fix him when he was broken, and with very little effort. It came so naturally. As much as any young boy of eight possibly could, he trusted his father. His father meant everything to him.
Chris smiled subtly as his son lifted his head from between his knees and glanced through watery-red eyes in his direction. The fact that Tommy even bothered to look up meant that he was listening, and if he was listening, maybe, just maybe he was hearing.
Stretching himself forward, Chris put his hand on his son’s shoulder and patted gently. “You want to come inside and we’ll talk about it?”
Tommy forced himself not to respond. He was still a bit too mad, and he wanted to remain that way. The fact that his father was attempting to coax him into the exact opposite was only making him madder. He was sick of getting picked on at school, sick of Donald Rondage shoving him in the mud and calling him names, sick of being the wall against which the ball was bounced. He wanted to be the ball for once in his life. He wanted to do the bouncing.
Though Chris had no idea exactly what happened at school to put his son in such a state, he believed he had a general idea. Tommy had been having problems with a boy named Donald for some time. His wife had talked with his teacher about it, but his teacher could only be expected to do so much, and apparently what she’d done wasn’t nearly enough. As Tommy buried his head into his jeans once again, Chris Jarvis was momentarily bought back to his own youth, to the fourth grade and to a smarmy little jerk of a kid by the name of Ricky Emerson. He hated Ricky. He hated him so much. For years Ricky made a habit of pointing out little Christopher Jarvis’s every mistake. The kid seemed to relish doing it, and the reaction it garnered from the other children. After an unfortunate accident in the second grade, Ricky even gave Chris a nickname: Christopher Pisstopher. The name stuck and followed Chris all the way through middle school before finally fading away.
Chris sighed, staring blankly into the distance while remembering Ricky’s greasy little face and those pants with the holes in the knees he was always wearing. Surprisingly, despite the onslaught of awful memories, he smiled. Tommy was a lot like he’d been at that age. He thought too much. Sometimes he felt too much for his own good.
There are certainly positives to being blissfully unaware.
Wedging his hand beneath Tommy’s chin, Chris lifted the boy’s face so he could look him in the eye.
A puddle of sweat had formed on his forehead and was now leaking down the sides of his face like splatters of rainwater against a pain of glass. “You know none of this matters, right, kiddo?”
Tommy’s eyes remained downcast, his features slippery with perspiration.
“You’ve got a long life ahead, and the years are going to throw an awful lot at you. I guarantee the day will come when all of this…stuff…when none of it means a thing. Believe it or not, it’ll even seem a little silly.”
Though young Tommy Jarvis could clearly hear his father’s words, he didn’t believe a single one of them. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t, not yet, anyway.
Words are weird that way. They can mean entirely different things at various points in life. While some might claim their meanings are unchanging constants, those some would be wrong. Words adapt and evolve like all things in the universe, even eight-year old boys.
“Come on. It’s time to come inside.” Lovingly squeezing his son’s shoulder, Chris began pulling him in toward the door in which he was currently wedged. “Your mom will kill me if I walk into the house without you. I’m not asking you to be happy about it. You can hate me if you want. That’s okay. Right now I need you to crawl out of this toaster and come inside. You’ve been out here long enough. It’ll be dark soon. Come on. Do as your father says.”
Though Tommy’s mind wanted to fight for his position and remain exactly where he was, his body relented. It had just about had enough. It was drained and worn, and left to stew in its own juices. It wanted out. After crawling from the beaten shell of Mr. Button’s once proud residence, father and son walked slowly across the yard and into the house through the glass slider in the back. Chris rested his arm on his son’s shoulders the entire way.
Tommy was happy to have it there.
A part of him wished it could stay forever.

ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS HAS A RELEASE DATE!

2011-10-20T21:41:00.001-07:00

That's right, the final piece in the Forts Trilogy arrives on the 14th of next month!If you were planning on reading the series from the beginning and just haven't gotten around to it, there's no time like the present to get started.
The links are HERE and the first book in the series is still a measly $0.99 for all the kindle owners out there.
Get on it.

WHAT HAVE I BEEN UP TO?

2011-09-21T14:19:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I updated over here, so what have I been up to?Working mostly.Was that a boring answer?I guess it was a bit of a boring answer and I guess I should elaborate.The final piece of the FORTS TRILOGY is on schedule and expected sometime before the end of the year (November). If you haven't yet scooped up a copy of the first two, my suggestion is to get on that. If you have no interest in scooping up the first two, prepare yourself for one of my patented knuckle sandwiches. Beyond that, I'm currently illustrating a picture book for Featherweight Press, and I've been slowly piecing together my next project.Check out the trailer below:The first volume of Goats Eat Cans is in the hands of my editor and set for release early next year. You can find more information at the OFFICIAL SITE.Even if you hated FORTS, give this one a try. It's nothing like FORTS.Nothing at all.Seriously.

FORTS: ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS COVER REVEAL!

2011-08-19T07:12:00.000-07:00

It's official!

The above image is the final cover for the thirds and final book in the Forts series, Endings and Beginnings!

The OFFICIAL WEBSITE is also in the process of being updated to reflect the look of the new book and I'll be adding some goodies on there over the next few weeks!

Steven

NEW BOOK, NEW COVER

2011-08-16T08:20:00.000-07:00

I recently finished up a cover for a new series I'm planning on releasing over the course of 2012. The first volume with basically be a bunch of short (humorous?) stories from my life and it'll be followed by two more. I'm hoping to get them all out over the course of the year, but laziness might yet win the day.

It's a whole lot different than what I did with Forts, but I felt like I really needed to try something different.

I'll have some more details soon.

Anyway, that guy on the cover is me.

Aint' I cute?

Steven

FATHERS AND SONS IS $0.99!

2011-07-14T14:52:00.001-07:00

That's right, for a limited time the first novel in the Forts series, Fathers and Sons, is a measly $0.99.

That's almost nothing.

That's less than a Snickers bar.

It's slightly more expensive than a penny candy, but this isn't 1942 and those don't exist anymore.

There has never been a better time for all the Kindle users out there to snag themselves a copy.

Just click the link below!

PEN MAN

2011-07-11T19:07:00.000-07:00

Okay, so here's the story.

In one of my grade school science classes, my teacher asked the class to bring in something from home for an experiment the following week. He suggested maybe a baseball might work, or a basketball, or an apple. You get the idea, right? Something roundish. Something that could be easily rolled.

Honestly I don't recall the specifics of the experiment or what we were testing. More than likely this is because I honestly didn't care.

I was a terrible student.

I was a worse student than Dr. Phil is a therapist.

Anyway, most everyone int he class managed to bring in something roundish, and something capable of rolling. Most everyone, except my friend, Mark. Mark was a dunderhead. (Yep, I typed the word dunderhead) and Mark forgot to bring something in at all. With nothing available, he opted to try and roll his pen.

He failed miserably.

And I mocked him mercilessly for it.

Just when he thought I was done making fun of him, I decided to make him the lead character in a comic book called Pen Man.

Soon enough my little seven page joke was making it's way around the class. My friends liked Pen Man. The class liked Pen Man. A few of them wanted a copy, so I made some photocopies and sold them for a buck each. It wasn't long before they wanted a second issue.

People started calling Mark, Pen Man.

In fact, they called him Pen Man more than they called him Mark - which annoyed him to no end.

When I moved away a few years later, I kept on drawing Pen Man.

I don't really know why I did it. Pen Man expanded into other books and soon enough my little brother (who came up with some characters of his own) and I had created, Novak Comics.

When I got into High School, I was still drawing Pen Man. I drew him in the library. I drew him at lunch, and I drew him in class when I was continuing my legacy of awful studentry. (Which I know isn't a word, so shut up.)

You might think I would have stopped scribbling on typing paper in my free time and stapling the pages along the edge, but I didn't. Pen Man was still a part of my life. Though the time I had to draw Pen Man had dwindled to almost nothing, I was still plugging away.

When I graduated, moved to California and got married?

Yep, still doing it - at least for a little while.

Eventually I did put the kibosh on the adventures of Pen Man and the whole Novak Comics thing as a whole. It was hard to do, but it had to be done. By that time I'd probably drawn well over five hundred issues - which is both sad, and a bit remarkable.

Mostly sad, though.

For years now these books have been gathering dust in my office. The paper is crinkling. It's turning yellow and its getting brittle. These things simply weren't made to last, and because of that I've been slowly scanning and converting them to digital files.

Because I have nothing better to do with my time and apparently love to embarrass myself, I've decided to turn them to PDF's and upload them all to Scribd for the world at large to "enjoy."

A part of me hopes Mark is still out there somewhere and he'll stumble onto them.

Maybe, for the briefest of moments he'll remember how much he hated it when everyone called him Pen Man and cruse my name through clenched teeth.

Thats the kind of stuff that brings a smile to my face.

Steven

You can find all 35 issues of the original PEN MAN series HERE with more on the way.

GIVEAWAY!

2011-07-01T06:52:00.000-07:00

If you're one of the lazy schmoes out there that hasn't purchased the book yet, Jenn over at Booksessed is offering up a chance to win not only a copy of Fathers and Sons, but Liars and Thieves as well.

That's right. Two books for doing almost nothing at all.

It's that easy.

Oh, and there's also a free piece of original art thrown in there.

Giveaway ends on the 10th. click the linky-link below and get on it.

BE A JERK AND YOUR CHARACTERS WILL THANK YOU FOR IT

2011-06-14T07:52:00.000-07:00

This post originally appeared as a guest blog at OwlReviewaBook.

BE A JERK AND YOUR CHARACTERS WILL THANK YOU FOR IT

Bethany asked me to write a little something about character development, so here I am attempting to write a little something about character development.

There’s one major problem.

I honestly don’t know anything about character development.

Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating just a little bit for the sake of comedy.

The truth is that I don’t know anything that I’m supposed to know about character development. Plus, I’ve always found it a bit weird for me when someone asks me to write about the “craft” of anything.

The only real “craft” I have any right lecturing on is Kraft Macaroni and Cheese – which happens to be the only food in existence with a taste wholly dependant on your mood. If you’re depressed it’s awesome. If you’re happy, it’ll make you depressed.

That should be their slogan.

The only real bit of advice I can offer up when it comes to your characters is this: Be a jerk.

As a writer you’re in control of every aspect of your character’s lives and it’s pretty safe to assume that you feel a certain love for them. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s great actually. You should love them. If you don’t love them, the fact that you’re going to spend endless hours and upwards of a 100,000 words writing about them would just be silly.

A problem arises when you love them so much that you start treating them the way you want them to be treated, rather than the way they need to be treated.

If it makes sense for them to get hurt, be prepared to hurt them. If they have to die to get across your point, I suggest you find yourself a sturdy tree and pull out the hangman’s noose.

Remember that great story where everything always worked out for everyone and everything was fantastic all of the time?

No?

That’s because it doesn’t exist.

You can’t be a good friend to your characters. You have to be a terrible friend. It’s a necessity of the relationship. At some point you’re going to make them hurt. You’re going to drag them through the mud and make them cry. You’re going to take them to the lowest of lows and just when they think you’re done hurting them, you’ll slap on some more.

It’s for their own good.

It has to be done and you’re the heartless jerk that has to do it.

In my opinion the love you feel for the characters you create has be a tough love. Anything else is a detriment to your story. It does them an injustice, it does you an injustice, and it does the term injustice, injustice.

Wait…

That last part didn’t make any sense.

Ignore the fact that I typed it.

Love your characters and love your story enough to be the jerk they need you to be.

Wow, that almost sounded like I knew what I was talking about – a little bit anyway. And I wasn’t even ruminating on the pros and cons of Velveeta Shells and Cheese as opposed to Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.

Don’t even get me started on that battle of the unhealthy titans.

We’d be here for hours.

Steven

AUTHOR WEEK AND GIVEAWAY!

2011-06-04T16:06:00.000-07:00

My pal, Bethany, over at OwlReviewaBook reviewed Fathers and Sons on Saturday morning, gave it a whopping five stars, and has decided to dedicate an entire week to little ol' me and my little ol' book.

The best thing about it is that she's giving you a chance to now only win a SIGNED COPY of Fathers and Sons, but an original piece of art as well.

That's right, here's your chance to get your hands on an ACTUAL chapter illustration from the ACTUAL book! It's the only copy in existence and it can end up on your wall, your desk, or in your trash can.

You can even burn it in the backyard and make me cry.

Or sell it on ebay.

Or sell it from the back of your van.

Or use it to scoop up the dog crap in your back yard.

Do with it whatever you want. It's yours.

Click the link below to head on over to Bethany's blog for your chance to win.

The festivities for the entire week will go down like this:
Saturday - Forts: Fathers and Sons review.
Sunday - Giveaway of a SIGNED copy, with an ORIGINAL chapter illustration from the book.
Tuesday - Interview.
Wednesday - Review of Forts: Liars and Thieves.
Friday - A little guest post by me.
Sunday - Announce the winner of the giveaway.
Steven

TRAILERS, TEACHERS, CHOCOLATE AND SOME RANDOM BABBLING

2011-05-18T10:23:00.000-07:00

It’s been a busy week around here and because of it I haven’t had a whole heck of a lot of time to write.

Which pretty much sucks.

For anyone that doesn’t know, my wife is a sixth grade teacher and her school year is winding down. If you, yourself happen to be a teacher or perhaps you’re married to one, I’m sure you’re well aware of the fact that things can get a bit – crazy – around this time of year.

When I say crazy, I really mean testy.

When I say testy, I guess I actually mean wackadoo.

When I say wackadoo, I’m actually just taking the opportunity to type a silly word.

Anyway, the wife is pretty much bonkers at the moment and it’s basically my job to keep a safe distance and offer up a steady stream of chocolate whenever she starts to freak out.

Despite the wackiness of both work and home, I did manage to find the time to get Fathers and Sons into the hands of a few quality bloggers (reviews should start rolling in next month – hopefully good), record another podcast with one of my good friends and fellow LitU author, Nina Perez, and whip up a little teaser trailer for the finale of the series.

Speaking of the finale of the series – I guess I should finish writing it.

That’s sort of an important part to the whole process, isn’t it?

I Suck at Promotion

2011-05-12T08:42:00.000-07:00

I’m a terrible promoter.

I really am.

The problem isn’t that I’m lazy, or that I don’t put forth the effort, or that I’m unwilling to put in the time. It’s none of that stuff.

I’m actually not the least bit lazy, my effort-abilities are second to none and I have nothing but time on my hands.

The actual issue is that my personal persona and my business persona get mixed up a lot. A whole lot, actually.

I say stuff I shouldn’t. I put things out there that I should have locked a safe, wrapped in a chain and tossed into the ocean.

As much as it pains me to admit, I’m an idiot.

The fact that I’m writing these very words at this very moment proves I’m an absolute dolt and that I’ll never learn.

Do the followers on Twitter that are interested in my YA novel or my artwork really need to know that I spent the night bent over the toilet due to a nasty bout of food poisoning? Probably not.

Did I tell them? Yep.

Was it necessary to let them know that because of it I spent the entire next day breaking wind like Chris Brown breaks ladies’ faces? Most definitely not.

Was that Chris Brown joke a massive mistake?

You better believe it.

I’m a goof-ball and I don’t know when to stop.

I spend so much time cracking wise and making you feel uncomfortable with awkward-delicious nuggets about my personal life that I sometimes forget I’m trying to sell you something.

Then the bill collectors come calling. Then my wife shakes her head and I pull out the lining of my pockets and shrug my shoulders. Then she hops on-line and types the words “divorce attorney” into Google.

It’s a vicious cycle.

So how do I plan on solving this little problem of mine?

I have to get serious. I have to get more professional.

I’ll need a briefcase of some sort . Maybe some papers to put in it.

Wait, wait, wait - maybe I don’t need the papers at all. I mean, what are the chances anyone will actually ask to see what’s inside, right?

Combing my hair, putting on a suit and brushing my teeth more than once every other day just isn’t going to cut it anymore. It’s not enough. I have to take things to the next level. I’m going to have to make some drastic lifestyle changes.

I’ll need to straighten that hunch in my back and smear that sloppy-creepy grin off my face.

Maybe I’ll even shave.

I’ll have to mind my P’s and Q’s while making sure my F’s and U’s are never allowed in the same sentence together.

I’ll need to be better than the sum of my parts and better than the sum of the sum of those parts.

I’ll have to blog about books and writing, and the writing process and the process of writing.

Speaking of my blog, I’ll need to maintain it a bit more diligently. I guess I should watch that I don’t accept a friend request from anyone and everyone on Facebook. I should also try and make sure current and prospective clients don’t catch wind of my uncontrollable post-puke wind breaking in one of my many unnecessary status updates.

Breath mints will be important.

New shoes too. New shoes are a given. Shoes are the first thing people look at. I heard that somewhere.

No more gobbling on burgers so stuffed with goop the juices leave stains on my shirts. Nope – gonna have to put the kibosh on that one.

I’ll need some new shirts as well.

Maybe I should change my name? It might be smart to change it to something a little more professional sounding.

Max Hardcopy?

How about, Patrick Gitstuffdun?

No, wait…Stephen Nowack.

No one commands respect like a Nowack.

Or maybe I shouldn’t do any of this nonsense.

Stephen Nowack? Seriously? That’s just silly.

Breath mints? That’s even sillier.

Maybe I’ll just do what I do, be who I am, and let the chips fall where they may. I have a hard enough time just being myself. Trying to be someone else is a disaster waiting to happen.

Maybe I am my own worst enemy, but so what?

I guess there are worse things I could be.

Like, Chris Brown.

~Steven

I recently discussed Forts, writing, and a bunch of stuff I shouldn't have discussed on an episode of the Lit-Pod Podcast. If you're bored, have a listen.

Second Editions and E-Books

2011-03-31T08:19:00.001-07:00

The second edition print version of Forts is now available!

It's been a long and frustrating process getting to this point, but I'm pretty happy with the direction things are headed these days. It's starting to feel like everything is back on track. If you've already purchased the first book, there's not any REAL reason you need to pick up this new one - you know, unless you're just a really nice guy.

There isn't anything "new" added to the story, but he printing is better, the editing is sharper, the price is cheaper, and the cover is a lot crisper looking.

All in all, it's a far better experience.

Just click the picture below.

For those that have lost interest in all things print, there's also versions available for the Kindle.

And of course Nook

Book 2 should be arriving in the next couple months. There's some last minute editing being done on it as I type, and based on the incredible amount of errors in this blog post, you can understand what a difficult task it is for my poor editor.

I want to thank everyone out there for sticking with me through this. It's been a rough year or so since the book was first released and things went south with the original publisher.

Everything happens for a reason though, right?

Despite the craziness, I couldn't be happier with the people I'm working now and the direction the series is headed.

Steven

SAMPLE CHAPTER - BOOK TWO - CHAPTER TWO

2011-03-21T18:15:00.000-07:00

Liars and Thieves will hit in both e-book and print editions in the next couple months. In my eternal attempt to keep you interested, I'm going to be offering up some chapters leading up to to the release.

If you want to get caught up before Book 2 becomes available, the cheapest method is to snag yourself a copy the Fathers and Sons "Special Edition" for Nook or Kindle at the link below.

CLICK HERE

Okey dokey, enough with the babble.

Enjoy Chapter 2!

2. Family Visits

“Boys?” Edna Williamson called out from the bottom of the stairs. “Your father and the chaperone should be here soon! Why don’t you come downstairs?”

Both Tommy Jarvis and his younger brother Nicky clearly heard her words, yet neither made a movement toward the bedroom door. It had been months since either boy had been in the same room with their father. The abuse allegations, and subsequent investigation proving them to be true, resulted in their removal from his care and placement with a foster family. For almost half a year they lived with a couple of retirees named Ed and Edna Williamson. In spite of their comically similar first names, the Williamsons proved to be decent, caring people — not perfect people by any means, but good people — the kind of people Tommy and Nicky barely believed existed anymore. Neither boy had forgotten about their father, yet at the same time they were only now beginning to settle in to their new life with the Williamsons. Things were easier for them here, quieter and certainly a lot less painful. The truth of the matter was that neither boy found the idea of introducing their father back into their lives even remotely appetizing. A week and a half before, a social worker for the state sat the pair down, telling them that Chris had been attending his meetings, that he was sober, and remorseful, that he was making great strides, and was anxious to see them again. Of the two, Nicky was slightly more open to the idea of reuniting with their father, but then Nicky’s past experiences with the old man were quite different from Tommy’s.

The memories – the awful, stinging memories –just recently began melting away for the fourteen year old Tommy Jarvis. What would happen now though? What would happen, when after all these months, Tommy came face to face with his father? Would the very old, very thick anger boil up from wherever he’d managed to shove it down deep inside his belly? Would the pain attached to those memories like a nasty parasite feeding off a half-starved host prove too much to bear? There were some questions in life for which one simply didn’t want answers. For Tommy Jarvis, these were those very questions.

“Boys? Come on now, don’t dawdle . . .get your behinds down here.” Edna yelled out a bit more forcefully from downstairs.

Propped up on his elbows, Nicky reluctantly slid his feet over the side of his bed, sighing deeply. Across the room Tommy remained on his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and sinking patiently with each breath. Tommy didn’t want to forgive his father, and he couldn’t understand why everyone seemed to expect him to. Even if the old man had changed – even if he never again laid a hand on him, or screamed at his little brother – so what? The damage had been done.

Some things, once done, can never be undone. It was as simple as that.

Things were by no means perfect with the Williamsons, but they were certainly better than anything the Jarvis brothers had experienced in a very long time. Tommy understood completely that he and Nicky’s time with the Ed and Edna was limited - a temporary solution at best. Temporary or not, it was something he wasn’t ready to let go of. Nicky was speaking again and doing better in school. Last week Tommy spotted his little brother talking to another boy outside the building after school ended. Nicky had a friend - a real, living and breathing friend. Things were getting better. For the first time in years, happiness – even on the tiniest of levels – seemed attainable. It could all go away with the snap of the fingers — or the stinging crack of a backhand across the face if they were forced to move back in with their father. Only recently, Tommy had experienced, for the very first time, the wonderful sensation of going to bed without a welt on his leg, a scratch on his arm, or a fractured bone inside his chest. Lately his sleep had been deep and comfortable and warm, his dreams non-existent. How utterly amazing it had been to simply sleep, free of nightmares and without worry. It was luxury he had forgotten existed. What did a life with his father have to offer? Why did he deserve a second chance? He didn’t.

“Are you coming down?” Nicky asked Tommy while standing next to his bed staring at his older brother from across the room.

Tommy breathed deeply, turning his head slightly in Nicky’s direction. “No . . .and neither should you.”

“We have to.”

“We don’t have to do anything Nicky . . .especially not for him.” Twisting his body sideways while pulling his knees to his chest and curling into a half-fetal position, Tommy turned away from the confused face of his little brother and toward the opposite wall.

At the bottom of the stairs, Edna Williamson was a moment away from calling to the boys again when she noticed Nicky slowly making his way toward her. Tommy, though, was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s your brother?” She asked the youngest Jarvis boy as he passed her on his way into the kitchen.

“He doesn’t want to come down,” Nicky responded softly, never turning in her direction.

From the opposite end of the room, Ed Williamson sighed with a deep, noticeable frustration while tugging his aching body up from a very comfortable position on the couch.

“I’ll go have a talk with him,” he grumbled, slowly beginning the long journey up the stairs.

“Don’t you go flying off the handle, Ed . . .this isn’t easy on the boy.”

“I know Edna, I know. Give me a little credit will you. I’m just going to have a little chat with him, that’s all.”

“If he’s not ready to come down, the social worker said we shouldn’t push too hard . . .especially not for the first meeting.”

Ed was near the top of the stairs now, his chest straining, his aged knees aching from the journey.

Stopping momentarily to catch his breath he looked down at his wife of so many years while rolling his eyes, “I remember what she said . . .I remember. If there’s anyone in this house that knows what he’s going through, it’s me. Relax. I’m not going to push the boy, trust me.”

The wrinkled, slightly more crooked than it was twenty years ago smile on her husband’s face instantly reassured Edna Williamson. She loved Ed. She loved him as much as the day they were married, though for entirely different reasons. Love is funny like that, having the uncanny ability to morph into something completely foreign while still holding onto the things that made it so unique, wonderful, and safe in the first place. The sixty-three year old Edward Williamson was a good deal different from the twenty-four year old version. In his heart though, despite the changes brought on by age and experience, he was still the same man she fell in love with and still a comfortably perfect fit for her.

Reaching the door to the boy’s bedroom, Ed stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts. Rubbing his hand across his balding head covered sparsely with stringy gray hair, he sighed deeply. His mind wandered back many, many years to his own father, to the unresolved issues he allowed to remain unresolved until the day his father died. As frustrated as young Tommy Jarvis had occasionally made him over the last six months, he cared about the boy. In fact, he cared about the boy so deeply that it surprised him. When Edna suggested they become a foster family, the one thing Ed never counted on was forming any real, serious feelings for the children sent to live with them. After his own son’s untimely death so many years ago, he simply didn’t think he was capable of such a thing anymore. Having loved a child so deeply only to have that love taken away – he always believed it left him hollow and incapable of reaching that peak again.

The appearance of the Jarvis boys had proved him wrong.

After mustering up a bit of courage, he pushed the bedroom door open gently, “Hey pal, why don’t you . . .” Ed’s voice quickly trailed off.

The room was empty. Tommy was gone. The window on the opposite wall was wide open, loose drapes flapping softly in the fall breeze.

Shaking his head, Ed calmly called out to his wife from the top of the stairs, “I think Tommy is going to sit this one out, dear.”

SAMPLE CHAPTER - BOOK 2 - CHAPTER ONE

2011-03-09T09:02:00.000-08:00

The released of Liars and Thieves is just around the corner, as is the Re-Release (Special Edition) of Fathers and Sons! Because I'm a really nice guy, I've decided to post a few sample chapters to wet your whistle. (Which is sort of a gross saying, but whatever.)

I figured it best to start with Chapter One.

Enjoy!

1. Traitor to the Cause

“Tell me what you’ve done with it, and I will consider sparing your life.”

For him, time ceased to have meaning long ago. How many days had he spent shackled in the king’s dungeon? Could it be weeks? Months even? Long enough that the heavy chains around his ankles sliced into his skin, merging with the muscle underneath and forcing the flesh to heal grotesquely around them. How often was he dragged from his cell and beaten? How many times had he teetered through a wobbly haze, barely conscious on the razor-thin line between life and death? Two hundred? Three hundred? Maybe four? His body no longer resembled the one he’d spent a lifetime becoming familiar with. Quite adept in the dealing of punishment, the guard’s fists had changed him into something else. Like a reflection in a broken mirror, he was shattered, distorted, and barely recognizable. Busted numerous times, his jaw dangled from his face, useless. All but a few of his teeth had been removed — some ripped out during hour-long torture sessions, others knocked loose during any one of the regular beatings. His skin, once a healthy dark green, had become a disgusting, blotchy mess of purples, blues, and deep grayish-blacks. Even the most minute of movements on his part brought forth worlds of agony. The gentle breeze from a window nearby instantly reduced him to tears. His limbs had long since ceased functioning, devolving his form a million years and making upright movement impossible. Having suffered through things no creature should ever be forced to feel, he found himself crumpled in a garish heap at the feet of the massive, stone-faced tyrant king of Ocha. A small part of him wondered if he’d made the right choice. This pain could have been avoided. He brought this on himself.

Gently nudging the broken, tangled body of the creature sprawled before him, the massive king sighed deeply. “How sad it is to see you like this, Krystoph. I had such high hopes for you. You were so very talented in the art of killing … so frighteningly, wonderfully talented. There was a time, not too long ago, when my opinion of you approached admiration.”

Shaking his head while flashing a disgusted look at the broken lump, the king turned swiftly, pacing back to his throne before reclining with yet another heavy sigh. “I gave you everything, and what did you offer in return — deceit, lies, and thievery? You’ve shamed your king. You’ve shamed your country and all those calling it home. You’ve shamed yourself.”

His ears smashed and barely of use, the broken lump of flesh that once answered to the name Krystoph was able only to make out half the king’s words, and even they seemed distant and jumbled. Despite this fact, his clouded brain managed to put the pieces together well enough to get a general idea of the point the ruler of Ocha was trying to make. Doing his best to ignore the unbelievable amount of pain shooting through every centimeter of his body, Krystoph lifted his weary, half-conscious face with a shaky defiance to the creature he once admired beyond all others.

While using a hand consisting mostly of broken fingers to hold his jaw in place, he grumbled, “Y-you … ki-killed m-my … my … family.”

Quietly the tyrant King Kragamel chuckled. “You are mistaken old friend. Long ago you gave you life to me, and in return I allowed you the privilege of serving as a general in the greatest army the world has ever known and will ever know. In doing so, your family became my family. You see, unlike what you’ve stolen from me, their lives were mine to do with as I pleased. They were mine to kill.”

In direct response to the words, Kristoph’s distorted excuse for a body lurched forward angrily. His broken legs awkwardly thrust the mass of wrecked bones and torn muscles in the king’s direction. Something more a guttural noise than a fully imagined word rose up from his belly, exploding from his mouth like searing magma. Despite the fact that his fingers had been shattered beyond the point of usefulness, Krystoph reached for the king’s foot, clawing at his thick leather boot. The rabid, snarling growl did little to frighten Kragamel though. His expression remained stoic. Many times in the past Kristoph had proven the most capable, the most willing, and the most vicious soldier his army ever produced. The snarling, sniveling mass of bloody flesh kneeling before him now – this was not Krystoph. Nothing remained of Ochas’s most feared general, and the revolting thing he’d become was of no threat. Placing his foot on top of Krystoph’s head, the king easily shoved the broken lump of flesh away as two beefy guards rushed in, pulling Krystoph further still from Ocha’s benevolent leader. The flow of adrenaline having passed, Krystoph began at last to feel the result of his outburst. His body was in no shape for such an act. Now he found himself struggling not only to reclaim his escaping breath but also to deal with the flashes of deep, searing pain tearing him apart from within.

“I will give you one more chance old friend.” The king offered sternly from atop his throne. “Tell me where you’ve hidden it. End this nonsense. You know I will locate it eventually; you will have suffered for nothing. Why take your misguided hatred for me out on the Ochan race? Should this great nation suffer because of your random loss of common sense? Tell me where it is … tell me where it is and this all comes to an end. Tell me where it is, and I assure you I will make your death quick and painless.”

Though one of his lungs was punctured months ago, Krystoph breathed in deeply, managing to momentarily gain control of the pain pouring over him like molten steel. His brain was on fire, his head on the brink of an explosion. Grimacing through eyes drowning in blood, he attempted for the first time in weeks to pull his twisted, mangled body upright. Seeing this, the two guards hovering nearby immediately moved close and shoved him back to the floor. With a flip of his wrist and a slight gesture of his fingers, King Kragamel ordered them to stand down. Managing successfully to maneuver himself to one knee, Krystoph bit down on his lower lip with the few reaming teeth in his mouth and grunted deeply, eventually hoisting his tattered, starved, frail body upward. Teetering atop wobbly, useless legs, he raised his shaky head, staring defiantly into the eyes of Ocha’s most feared king.

With a voice of whispered rage he choked out only a single word, “No.”

Overcome with the undeniable urge to rip the head from his former general’s shoulders and place it on a pike in the center of the castle courtyard for all to see, the king instead shoved his emotions down, successfully centering his rapidly expanding rage.

Krystoph would have loved nothing more than to see him frazzled, and because of this, frazzled was by no means an option. Calmly looking past Krystoph’s unsteady form, Kragamel called out to the back of the room: “Gragor!”

From the opposite side of the massive throne room, the then newly-appointed, still young, fresh, and anxious to please general of the king’s armies moved across the floor in long, determined strides. Stopping alongside Krystoph, the massive Ochan dropped to a knee, bowing his head in reverence of his king. “Yes sire?”

“We could torture this traitor until the end of our days, and it is unlikely he will ever tell us what we need to know; he has been trained too well. He has outworn his usefulness. I shall waste no more time on him. I want you personally to take him to the fire caves, open his throat, and watch the life bleed from his sad excuse for body. Do not burn his corpse though … let the combustion beetles make a meal of him instead. This fool is undeserving of a proper torching.”

Though barely noticeable to most in the room, Gragor grinned ever so slightly. “Of course sire. Consider it done.”

Still wobbling, his body shaking violently as a jolt of pain traveled up his spine, Krystoph managed to remain standing, his steely gaze never once moving from the king. Even after hearing the words from Kragamel’s mouth, at no point would his expression falter.

The king would have loved nothing more than to see him weakened and because of this weakness was simply not an option.

Gragor locked his muscular arms around Krystoph’s torso, tugging his busted, useless form backward across the cold stone floor. From his throne the tyrant king of Ocha watched intently until his former general was pulled from sight. He allowed himself only a moment to dwell on his choice before moving to the next order of business. The king had ordered many to die during his tenure. Krystoph was no different than any of the others.

Once dead they are gone and once gone they never come back – this was the way of things.

NEWS AND NOTES

2011-03-07T09:55:00.000-08:00

Gah...

It's bee a while since I updated, hasn't it?

The difference between this time and all the others is that I actually have an excuse. I've been busy - really busy - so busy that busy people look at me and say, "wow, that dude's pretty damn busy."

First and foremost the first issue of THE BAD GUYS has finally found its way to e-readers everywhere! (Click the picture above for purchase details)

It's a decent little read at a decent little price and I PROMISE you that if you stick with the series you'll like what you see. I've wrapped up the second issue, and not only does the book really pick up, but it ends with a surprise that you won't see coming.

Unless you're me - then you might have seen it.

Also, for those of you out there that read my stuff back in the day when I was blogging on a regular basis, I posted a guest blog over at litUnderground.com

You can find it here: The Business of Art

While you're there check out the LitUnderground site. I'm going to be working closely with them to get out the final two Forts books, as well as a special edition of the first one.

Good people.

Scratch that - great people.

It's an honor to have my name alongside any of them.

Lastly, I am going to make a REAL attempt to update this place a bit more - especially considering all the stuff going on right now. If I don't toss up (at the very LEAST) a sketch sometime this week, I'm giving you permission to punch me in the face.

Full power.

You can wind up.

Steve

THE STATE OF FORTS ADDRESS

2011-01-29T08:19:00.000-08:00

The Forts series has found a new home!

More than likely you’re silently saying to yourself, “Oh that’s too bad. It must not have sold well. That poor, poor man.”

Let me assure you, that’s not the case – far from it in fact. The choice to continue the series with someone else was actually mine and mine alone. I never signed a contract for the series as a whole and after my experience with the first book there was no way that was going to happen. It wouldn’t have been the right choice.

I don’t see any reason to go into the details of the “breakup” (for now), but I will say that Forts is moving to greener, less frustrating, and far more professional pastures.

So what does this all mean to you?

Well, it means that the copy of “Fathers and Sons” you no doubt have sitting in a place of prominence on your bookshelf – or next to the crapper, either way. That copy of Forts will very soon be an out of print collectors edition!

That’s right, I said collectors edition and I meant it!

Will you be able to sell it on ebay to pay the rent? Eh, I wouldn’t count on that.

Will you be able to trade it for a pack of gum and maybe a Butterfinger bar? Yep, I think you might be able to pull that off.

Still, your copy is special now. It’s unique. If you sent it to me to get autographed it’s even more unique. You own it, some other people own it, but no one else is ever going to own it – ever. That’s pretty cool, no?

For those of you that haven’t got your hands on a copy yet, a second edition print version of the book will be arriving with a brand new cover before you know it. (Probably within the next few months in fact.) Along with the print version, the book will FINALLY make its way to e-readers everywhere! (This is long overdue.)

Oh, all those editing flubs the original publisher left in – you know, the ones that caused the sentence “This could have been a fantastic book if it had a good editor” to appear in nearly every review. Thankfully those are going to be fixed up for the second edition.

For those of you waiting patiently for “Liars and Thieves,” right around the time the second edition arrives book two is going to hit the shelves! It’s a heck of a lot later than was originally planned, but I’m hoping it’ll be worth the wait.

The nonsense of the past is in the past and hopefully that’s where it’s going to stay. Writing has officially picked up again on the final book in the series and I’m probably only 40,000 words or so from finishing it up.

Forts has a new home, and this is a good thing.

Scratch that and revise: Forts has a new home, and it’s a giggity-great thing.

It’s better than a steaming hot pizza and a tub of ice cream served to you by Rosario Dawson in a French maid’s outfit.

Okay, maybe it’s not that good…

It’s still pretty fantastic though.

Steven

WORK IN PROGRESS - FORTS THREE COVER

2010-11-22T12:05:00.000-08:00

The basic art for the Book 3 cover has been worked out! This is a spoiler-heavy image as you're getting a look at a few new characters.

That's how I roll.

Steven

WORK IN PROGRESS - FORTS THREE COVER

2010-11-17T06:44:00.000-08:00

Progress on the cover for Forts 3 continues to putter forward. It feels pretty good to be woking on these characters again. I took too much time away.

Art has always been therapy for me and this has been a rough year.

Steven

WORK IN PROGRESS - FORTS THREE COVER

2010-11-15T06:59:00.000-08:00

I decided to get to work on the cover for the third book in the Forts series over the weekend. I will of course, keep you updated.

I have a good feeling about this one.

THE BAD GUYS ARE COMING

2010-10-22T08:25:00.000-07:00

Well, it took me only a week to fail on my promise to get a new sketch up every friday.

Yep, I kinda suck.

Maybe this will make you feel a bit better.

I've recently decided to do something I've always wanted to do, but for whatever reason always backed out of - a webcomic.

I've loved comics as a medium since I was a kid and I've always thought doing a webcomic on a regular basis might be fun. That being said, I don't have a ton of extra time and I didn't want to get something started and never see it through.

I'm not saying there's no chance of that happening this time out, but I've chosen sort of an easy-breezy style of art and I'm going to give it my best.

I want to get a few pages ahead of the game before I start posting stuff, so I'm looking at getting up and running by the end of next month - hopefully. I'll have mo information as I get closer.

In the meantime, here's a little something to wet your whistle.

Steve

FRIDAY SKETCH

2010-10-08T08:37:00.000-07:00

I'm going to make an effort to update the blog more, and because of that I'm promising at least one sketch a week - every Friday!

Excited!?

You shouldn't be.

If history is any indication, the chances of me following through on this promise aren't that great.

Steve

DONATE FORTS - 1,111 Books for 11/11

2010-09-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

The publisher of the Forts series, CANONBRIDGE LLC is working alongside the SOLDIERS' ANGELS charity and has reduced the cost of the book in hopes that you'll purchase, donate, and get it in the hands of the soldiers overseas. This is not only for Forts, but some of their other titles as well.

If you're interested, click the words CANONBRIDGE LLC for more details.

See how easy I made that for you?

Go me!

Steven

100 CREATIONS

2010-09-20T14:04:00.000-07:00

I'm bringing back the "100 blah, blah fill in the blank" thing I did for "Fathers and Sons" as we slowly approach the release of "Liars and Thieves."

Basically you get to watch me draw something quickly.

Sound fun?

Of course it does.

It starts here.

WORK IN PROGRESS - ALBERT PAGE

2010-09-13T15:15:00.000-07:00

I've been hard at work on the sequel to the first Cousin Albert book lately (among about a thousand other things).

The above is a an unfinished page. Unfinished means not done - so I don't want any comments from the peanut galley.

It's an elephant with a bruise on her butt.

Quality stuff.

Steve

SAMPLE CHAPTER - BOOK 2 - CH.17 LIARS

2010-09-03T09:32:00.000-07:00

I promised you a snippet from book 2 before the end of the week and that's exactly what I'm giving you.

Liars and Thieves is only a couple months away!

Which is Just in time for Christmas - go figure.

*wink, wink, budge, nudge*

Oh, don't worry about spoilers. The chapter I'm offering up is a flashback, so no major plot details are leaked. I'll save that for a little later.

Steven

Every breath was like a knife stabbing the twelve year old Tommy Jarvis in the chest. Even the most simple of movements sent a torrent of unrelenting pain flashing throughout the entirety of his body. Outside the cold window pressed against his shoulder, the darkened world passed by in flashes. Streetlights soared like shooting stars, dragging behind them ghostly trails that wagged across the blackness like the latent images of never-there monster tails. In desperate need of a tune-up, the car underneath him clanked and creaked, its engine struggling to maintain even the most average of speeds for any significant amount of time. Across from Tommy, only half awake and hunched over the steering wheel, was his father. The eyes of Chris Jarvis were wide, the stubble on his face at least two days old. Since the funeral for his wife earlier in the week, Chris had spent his days fading in and out of reality. This was due in no small part to the endless stream of mind altering, wonderfully numbing liquid consistently making its way down his gullet and back up again into his brain. Problems were easier dealt with when one had the help of friends – Chris had found his friends in bottles. Faced with a red light, Chris slammed on the breaks, bringing the car to a screeching halt. Briefly glancing to his right, he watched with the slightest bit of worry as his eldest son clutched at his chest, a strained grimace stretched across his boyish features.

Gripping tightly on the leather of the steering wheel, he looked away, his breaths coming in more rapid succession with every passing moment, “We’ll be there in a minute…”

The hospital was still six blocks away but it was not the time or even the amount of pain his son was in that worried Chris at the moment. There were much larger things at stake; things involving his personal well being and things involving the truth. The sweat pouring down his forehead seeped into the crack of his lips – salty and warm, he awkwardly swallowed it down. From two feet away, Tommy groaned deeply, the boy’s breaths seemed labored and anguished, as a barely there wheeze escaped his lips. Chris asked himself, ‘How did this happen?’ Sifting through the blurry memories scattered across his mind like debris from an explosion, he found little answers. How could he do this? How could he do this to his own son? Worse yet, what if someone found out?

Before he even realized what he was saying, the words were leaving his mouth, “It was an accident Tommy…you got in a fight at school…you didn’t tell me until just now…it was an accident.”

Tommy could only barely hear his father. Stretching his neck upward, he twisted his nose toward the fresh, moist air pouring through half-opened window next to him. The dewy smell of early morning entered his nose and traveled down his chest, caressing his injured ribs from the inside. The momentarily relief carried with it an all too brief moment of clarity, making it possible to once again put to use his other senses.

Again came his father’s voice, clearer this time, more insistent now with the hospital only a few blocks away, “Do you hear me Tommy? It was an accident, right? Look at me and tell me it was an accident…”

Reluctantly Tommy turned his head to his father, the pain in his chest moving outward once again and pouring over him like molten lava and scorching his insides. The person sitting across from him bore little resemblance to the man he’d known for the entirety of his young life. His father had changed. Whether by situations beyond his control or on account of a weak will, the father Tommy once knew and once loved was gone. In his place there sat a drooling, wide-eyed, frightened and confused monster – an only partially existent thing that had lost control of everything in its life, including itself. Pulling into the hospital, the rusty car at last came to a stop and the engine puttered off.

Again Chris turned to his son, “I’m not going to ask you again Tommy…look at me and tell me it was an accident…tell me you got in a fight at school…”

His voice barely a strained whisper, Tommy Jarvis at last relented, “I…got into a fight…”

“Into a fight where?”

“At…at school…”

“And you didn’t tell me about it until this morning.”

“No…I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

“Tell…tell you about it until this morning…”

“It was an accident.”

“It…it…was…an accident.”

While escaping Tommy’s cracked lips, the words stung far more than the pain in his chest.

Inside the hospital x-rays were performed, showing beyond a doubt that the boy did indeed have not one but two broken ribs. While being pumped full of wonderful pain relieving fluids, the doctor asked him how such a thing occurred. Tommy recited his father’s story verbatim. The doctor was surprised the boy lasted as long as he did without telling anyone; he said the pain must have been unbearable while glaring at Chris questioningly for a moment - choosing for whatever reason not to voice his concerns. As if reading from cue cards or recalling a well-rehearsed speech, Tommy again fed the young doctor the story – again he lied. He didn’t know why he did it really – realizing that it made no sense whatsoever – and yet, the words existed. Traveling from his brain, they exited his mouth and were given form, becoming an independent part of the universe. Like the mad scientist’s monster, they were now alive, hungry and dangerous. This was only the first time Tommy would lie for his father. There were to be others – many in fact. With every one, the boy’s resentment grew. With every false truth, the pile of rancid, slimy blackness building in his gut expanded, pressing against his interior like a great cancerous tumor. Much the same as a virus, Chris Jarvis’ disease infected his son, twisting the boy into a distorted, grotesque funhouse reflection of himself. Eventually the day arrived when the lies came easier for Tommy, when he didn’t bat an eye or offer even a second thought. It is on this day that Tommy at last determined the price for years spent wading through lies, for time spent covering up his father’s misdeeds – forgiveness.

Perhaps not so strangely, he found some semblance of peace in this decision.

FORTS: THE MOVIE

2010-08-11T14:03:00.000-07:00

Nope, Forts isn't gong to be made into a movie anytime soon. Sure, it would be nice, but it isn't very likely.

Damn Hollywood fatcats!

With the help of a little extra time though, google images, and my handy photoshop skills, I put together a poster anyway.

I'd pay seven bucks for that.

Steven

WORK COMPLETED - ALBERT AT THE ZOO COVER

2010-08-02T07:41:00.000-07:00

I polished off the cover for Albert at the Zoo early last week, and I'm pretty pleased with the results. It's a nice looking cover. I think it relates to the first book well.

This edition is going to have full color interiors, so I've got a lot of work ahead of me and a very little window in which to do it.

Ain't it always the case?

Steve

WORK IN PROGRESS - Albert Zoo Cover

2010-07-21T06:50:00.000-07:00

Along with the ten-thousand other things I'm currently working on is the sequel to Paul Wood's "Cousin Albert" Series. Not only is Albert taking a trip to the zoo this time out, but he's doing it in full color. That's right, no more black and white interiors, this time it's color all the way.

While I haven't seen the full manuscript yet, I have gotten started on the cover. I'm pretty pleased with the overall design - think it'll be a quality piece when completed.

Hopefully it will...

Otherwise, as an eight year old might say, I'm in deep doo-doo.

On another note, it's only about four months or so until book 2 in the "Forts" series comes out. I'm excited. A part of me thinks it'll be the one people remember the most. It really is the "Empire Strikes Back" of the series It's a bit darker, the ending will leave you wanting more, and once it gets rolling it doesn't stop.

Then there's Krystoph...

You're going to like Krystoph.

WORK COMPLETED - LADYBIRDS

2010-07-02T13:39:00.000-07:00

I finally finished up the piece for my brother and his wife in honor of their impending twins (who are due in August). Overall I think it came out pretty good. Hopefully they like - at least pretend to like it.

Either way is fine by me really.

WORK IN PROGRESS - Lady Birds

2010-06-23T21:17:00.000-07:00

Here's a quick update on the piece I'm doing for my brothers impending twins. I spent much of last week in the hospital, so progress has slowed considerably.

Feeling much better though - thanks for asking.

Overall I like how the piece is coming along. There's a lot of work to do though, and they are due to pop out sometime in August.

I need to get my keyster moving.

Steve

David Reviews Forts...

2010-06-14T08:57:00.001-07:00

Here's a quick little video I put together of a sixth grader reviewing "Forts: Fathers and Sons."

He was more than a little nervous about the whole thing - which is obvious.

A big thanks to david for even agreeing to do it!

Steve

DRAWING DAY SKETCHES

2010-06-07T08:13:00.000-07:00

I wasn't able to dedicate as much time putting pencil to paper as I would have liked on this years drawing day, but I did get a few sketches completed.

The first is of Me, Sayid from Lost and Liza Minnelli as a dangerous trio of rebels roaming a post apocalyptic wasteland in search of the scarcest resource of all - our humanity. It's all very deep and meaningful.

The second is a sketch of a Beaker plush doll in my office. Why Beaker? Why not?

Steve

WORK IN PROGRESS - Lady Birds

2010-06-02T11:14:00.000-07:00

So my brother and his wife are going to have twins - twin girls in fact. Instead of buying them a super-expensive gift to celebrate the joyous occasion, I've opted to go the cheapo route and paint them a pretty picture for the nursery.

I'll try to convince them it'll be worth something one day...

It won't.

Anyway, I started on it last night.

It may not look like much at the moment, but I'm liking the early direction and have high hopes.

I'll cross my fingers and you cross yours. Deal?

Steve

READ 42 PAGES of "FORTS" ONLINE!!

2010-05-27T14:24:00.000-07:00

That's right, as of this morning there are not one, not two, not three or even four, but forty-two pages of "Forts: Fathers and Sons" available for you to read online!

Get this...

It's totally free!

Don't say I never gave you anything.

Why not click the link below and take a look? What have you got to lose? Nothing.

Or did you already forget that I said it was free?

Damn you and your short memory.

Steve

FORTS SAMPLE CHAPTER - Slaughter of the Innocents

2010-05-15T07:30:00.000-07:00

Because I'm a nice guy I've decided to toss another sample chapter your way. If you haven't yet purchased book one, what exactly are you waiting for?

Get your butt in gear.

Don't make me tell you again, or else I might just have to tell you a third time - in a far sterner tone.

You don't want that and neither do I.

The pale-skinned children from the hundredth world brought with them an infectious feeling of possibility that permeated the streets of Tipoloo. It slid under every doorway, through every crack, into every home, and filled the city’s inhabitants with a wonderful, warm feeling to which they were not accustomed. This was an odd feeling, a new feeling, a beautifully strange feeling that some of the younger children, those who had been born inside the city walls, had never felt. On every corner of every street, large groups of vastly different species talked amongst themselves, hopeful smiles spread across their tired, beaten, war torn faces.
It appeared as if the prophecy was more than just words. It had turned to flesh and blood. It was real, and could put an end to the incredible hardship they had come to know as simply being alive.
As Zanell turned the corner on her way to her grandfather’s dwelling, she passed a family of Huerzo Snubs outside of a tiny dwelling cut into a section of the city’s earthen walls. In many ways, the four foot tall Huerzo Snubs resembled ladybugs. Their enormous oval shaped bodies seeming impossibly large for their spindly legs, and yet they managed to move with an inspiring gracefulness. This was mostly due to the aid of a pair of nearly transparent wings attached to their backs that constantly flapped, enabling them to maintain their balance. The mother Huerzo sat quietly on a rock outside of her dwelling watching her two young children playfully wrestle in the street a few feet away. Each time one of the children was knocked over it rolled through the dirt like a marble on a sidewalk, its tiny legs flailing wildly in the air. As Zanell passed, the mother Huerzo looked up at her, smiling a timid smile in a way only a Huerzo could do justice. Zanell hadn’t seen a smile of this nature on her face in a very long time, not since her mate was captured a few years back above ground while searching for food with a gathering party.
The tiny bit of happiness in the mother Huerzo’s expression momentarily warmed Zanell on the inside. How uncommon, how truly wonderful and uncommon. This was exactly what the boys’ appearance brought to Tipoloo. This was exactly what Tipoloo needed.
Zanell noticed similar smiles all day long. In fact, the smile of the mother Huerzo became the rule rather than the exception. A small group of four or five Ricardian children passed by Zanell. She could overhear them whispering to each other about the way Tommy Jarvis blasted a massive hole in the city’s wall just a couple of days earlier.
“I heard that he blew a hole in the wall, and vaporized four of the king’s guards with it!”
“Shut up…that’s not what happened…it was seven of the king’s guards! Afterward he opened up another hole in the ceiling and flew off into the forest. I think he’s on his way to take on Kragamel one-on-one!”
“Now you’re the one who needs to shut up. He can’t fly!”
“Can, too! I saw it with my own eyes!”
“You didn’t see anything, liar. You were with me when it happened!”
“Well…whatever happened, I know that crusty old king is in for a serious beating when Tommy and Pleebo get hold of him!”
Ricardians were well known as a race of wonderful storytellers, and wonderful exaggerators. Ricardian children, on the other hand, were known to take exaggeration to unbelievable levels. Zanell smiled slightly, laughing a bit on the inside at the sweet, overzealous innocence in their words. At the same time she couldn’t really blame them, because she felt it, too. She believed in her grandfather, she believed in the prophecy, and because of this she believed in the possibility that Tommy, Donald and the others might be the catalyst that ushered in a bright new world. Hidden deep beneath her hopefulness, though, she was worried about her older brother. Zanell had never been away from him for more than a day, and she already missed having him around. From the day their mother died, Pleebo was more than just a brother to her. In many ways he was her parent, and even more importantly her best friend. If anything happened to him – well, she simply wouldn’t have any idea what to do with herself.
If only her grandfather had let her go with them, then she could watch him. Then she could keep an eye on him and make sure he was safe.
Zanell opened the door to her grandfather’s dwelling, stepped inside and closed it gently so as not to frighten him. “Grandfather?”
She set a bowl of Fluto root she had brought on a small table nearby, along with a goblet of water. The room was dark, the air stuffy and stale. It smelled of age and experience and knowledge. From his bed in the corner of the room, the elder’s tired, creaky body pushed and pulled itself slowly into a sitting position. Each of the ancient creature’s joints cracked and popped.
Zanell quickly made her way to his side, and helped him sit fully upright. “You need to eat, Grandfather. I’ve brought you some dinner…Fluto root…your favorite. I even mashed it up for you so you wouldn’t have any problems getting it down.”
“Thank you, Zanell,” the old creature said as he finally straightened up.
Once she was convinced he wouldn’t immediately tip over, Zanell turned back to the mashed Fluto root on the opposite end of the room. The elder reacheed out, grabs her skinny arm and turned her to face him again.
“What is it, Grandfather?”
Reaching up, the old creature touched the side of her face, his eyes half closed, his lips forming a dry, dusty, ancient smile. “Don’t worry about the root, Zanell. Save it for yourself. I won’t need it.”
“What? What are you talking about? Its been too long since you last ate grandfather…you need to keep your strength up.”
With his bony hand, he gently ran his fingers through her stringy white hair. “You look so much like your mother, Zanell. Both you and your brother…you both look so very much like Lanell. I was so proud of her…so proud of the Fillagrou she grew to be. You’ll…. you’ll make me…equally as proud, Zanell. In fact, you already have. I only wish…that I could be alive to see the wonderful things your future will bring…”
Zanell tried to ignore her grandfather’s words. He often complained about his age, regularly making jokes or little comments about how much time he had left to live.
She convinced herself that this was exactly what he was doing now. “Shut up, Grandfather…you’re going to be around for a long time. You’re as healthy as a Subertivean Ox.”
The old creature sighed deeply. “Every journey comes to an end Zanell.”
“What are you talking about? You look fine. You’ll eat something, and you’ll feel much better, like always. Stop talking like that.”
Reaching up slowly with both hands, the elder placed them softly on either side of her face.
With a half sad, half contented smile he looked directly into her enormous red eyes. “There is a wonderful beauty in endings, Zanell. Were it not for the pain of endings, we would never experience the exquisite hopefulness that can come only with a new beginning.”
Suddenly Zanell no longer thought her grandfather was simply complaining for the sake of complaining. Every crease and wrinkle in his face screamed of stern seriousness. He knew something that she didn’t. A lone tear slipped from her right eye, rolling down the side of her soft, drawn skin. Her thin lips began to quiver as she tried to formulate words. She found only the sound of her increased breathing.
Pulling her forward, her grandfather kissed her gently on the forehead. “I need you to run, Zanell. I need you to run to the southern passage and keep running until you’ve entered the forest. I need you to do this right now, my dear.”
“Grandfather…I…I don…why?”
“Have faith in my words…this one last time. Go…go and don’t look back.”
Almost on cue, the ground beneath Zanell’s feet shook violently, sending her careening into a nearby wall. A few seconds latr the ground shook again – this time even more aggressively. The blue burning candle in the corner of her grandfather’s dwelling tipped over, and fell into the dirt, smothered into oblivion. Zanell forced herself back to her feet, and quickly rushed to her grandfather.
Wrapping her arms underneath him, she tried to lift him from his bed. “SOMETHING’S WRONG, GRANDFATHER! COME ON, WE HAVE TO GO!”
The elder’s body flopped around like a heavy, useless rag doll. Even if the ancient creature had desired to move there was no way he could ever hope to run. To escape what was coming was not his fate, and he knew this.
Using what little strength remained in his tired body, he pushed Zanell away from him. “No! I can’t go anywhere, Zanell! This is exactly where I’m supposed to be. You have to trust me! You have to run, now!”
Zanell wiped away the torrent of tears flowing from her face as the ground rumbled yet again. This time thick chunks of dirt fell from the ceiling. “NO! I WON’T LEAVE YOU! I CAN’T!”
Again she reached out for her grandfather, and again the old creature pushed her back. Suddenly the city shook with such incredible force that it sent her falling backward, slamming against the creaky wooden door. Massive amounts of dirt and stone came loose and fell from the ceiling. A few of the larger chunks hit her on the top of the head.
The entire room was covered in a thick brown mist. “GRANDFATHER!”
From somewhere inside the cloud of dirt came the elder’s far away voice. “RUN, ZANELL! TO THE SOUTHERN PASSAGE! GO NOW!”
As she attempted to stand, another violent shaking caused Zanell to roll backwards through the door and out into the street. Everywhere around her the inhabitants of Tipoloo were frightened and screaming, scattering in every direction without rhyme or reason. Some seemed to be looking for shelter, some for family and some for weapons. Near the end of the street the ceiling collapsed inward viciously, as if a bomb had been set off somewhere above. The head of an enormous gray beast blasted through the earth and slammed to the city floor, chomping away every ounce of soil in its path with its massive open mouth. It swallowed the dirt it had just torn away, shook its head from side to side wildly, and pounded against either side of the street in the process. The massive cranium maneuvered itself parallel to the ground, blowing the excess dirt and sand from its nose. Opening its gigantic mouth, the terrifying thing let out a growl so ear piercingly loud that the entire street vibrated. Zanell immediately covered her ears, her body now scooting backward across the ground, away from the growling, monstrous beast. As quickly as the enormous head arrived, it shot back into the sky leaving a gaping hole in its wake that led into the forest. The city of Tipoloo looked like a war zone. Mounds of dirt and rock continued to fall from the ceiling high above the street. Clouds of grainy, thick sand rose up around Zanell. It made it nearly impossible for her to make out anything that was more than three feet away. More crashes, shakes, and noises rose up from inside the destructive cloud. No doubt these sounds were the result of other massive holes opened up by equally angry beasts at various other points throughout the city. The incredible amount of noise drowned out the horrified voices of the city’s inhabitants, making communication of any kind between them no longer a viable option. The sounds, the sights, and the harsh reality of what Zanell was witnessing quickly became too much for her to process. Everything was happening fast. She had seen battle before. She has seen the dead and injured, but never in Tipoloo, and never on this scale. It all seemed unreal.
She stumbled back to her feet just in time to see armed guards with weapons drawn, repel downward through the incredible hole the creature’s head had opened up. A few of Tipoloo’s inhabitants grabbed clubs or crudely made spears and attempted to engage the guards in armed combat. They were no match for the well trained, massive bodied, angry and determined soldiers.
Everywhere around Zanell, their forms partially obscured by the clouds of dirt and dust, innocents were being slaughtered.
With deadly precision, without regret or remorse, the Ochan army was doing exactly what they were trained to do. They were killing everything. The city of Tipoloo had been the single stain on the legacy of their people for years – an embarrassment to the glory of the empire. Now, with the chance to take care of that which had eluded them for so may years, they were assuredly making the most of the opportunity.
Zanell’s tears were thick with sand and soot. When she wiped them, it smeared across her already dirty face, sticking to her skin in clumps. She looked in the direction of her grandfathers dwelling. It was now totally obscured by the smoky madness that had engulfed the city.
Softly through her shivering lips she whispered, “I love you” to her grandfather and turned and ran toward the southern passage as fast as her shaky legs would carry her. Behind her, nearly everything she had ever known and loved - died.

FORTS BOOK 2 - COVER DEBUT

2010-05-07T07:59:00.000-07:00

I've finally put the kibosh on the cover of book 2 due out before the end of the year.

The overall tone of the book is a little darker, and I think the cover matches. If you liked anything about book one, the sequel is going to make you go bonkers.

You can hold me to that.

On another note, the profiles page of the Forts site has been updated to include four new characters. Two of them you'll be familiar with from "Fathers and Sons," the other two you'll meet in "Liars and Thieves."

Consider it the first preview.

CLICK HERE TO READ

Steven

FORTS BOOK 2 - COVER IN PROGRESS

2010-05-03T10:00:00.000-07:00

Well, book one is officially available everywhere. Book two is written, being edited, and the chapter illustrations are done.

So what am I missing?

Yep, a cover.

I did one a while back, but honestly it didn't quite sit right. The characters didn't work for me, and honestly it didn't capture the absolutely bonkers, surprise the poop out of you, and leave you shaking your head in disbelief nature of of the second book.

So I've started over.

I like this new version. I like it a lot in fact. Granted, it's still in the early stages, but I think it'll capture the intensity of book two much better. Things get much darker, much crazier, and much more unpredictable. I need the to make sure the cover reflects that.

If you haven't yet ordered a copy of "Fathers and Sons" I'm not exactly sure what you're waiting for.

What else are you going to do with your money? Pay bills? Save for retirement?

You're smarter than that.

Spend it needlessly on things you don't need.

Come on, all the cool kids are doing it.

Steve

P.S. Please ignore the messy desk - you know, because I'm messy.

LIARS AND THIEVES TRAILER & MORE!

2010-04-23T07:31:00.000-07:00

The trailer for book 2 is done. Be warned however, if you're currently still working your way through book 1, there are some minor spoilers here.

Otherwise, enjoy (Double Click to see in full size on youtube)

On another note, I'll be appearing on a segment of The Annie and Burl show this coming Saturday night! The show starts at 10:00 EST, and I should be popping up around 10:15. I'll be discussing the book and whatever else the cool table wants to toss my way. If you're bored, listen in!

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN LIVE!

Steve

COUSIN ALBERT AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER!

2010-04-21T07:24:00.000-07:00

A picture book I worked on last year, written by Paul Wood and titled "Here Comes Cousin Albert" is now available for pre-order on Amazon!

Here's the cover as well as a few of the interior illustrations.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER A COPY!

Steve

CHAPTER ILLUSTRATION - BOOK 2

2010-04-15T11:30:00.000-07:00

Well, the book is out. If you haven't yet ordered yourself a copy there are a LOT of buying options available.

Amazon UK is carrying it now, and it can be gotten through independent bookstores everywhere, with more to come.

CLICK HERE FOR A FULL LIST!

Some people that have already gotten their hands on the copy started sending me pictures of themselves with the book. Granted, it's a little unexpected, but I'm digging it!

Below is a picture sent to me by my pal Erik.

Cool pose, no?

Yes it is.

So cool in fact that I used it for reference when sketching up a chapter illustration for book 2 (which is hopefully due by the end of the year).

Will Erik be flattered? A little weirded out maybe? Call his lawyer and see if he has a case? All of the above along with an glass or warm milk to help him sleep at night?

Only time will tell I suppose.

GET YOUR COPY TODAY!

Steve

READER PICTURES ROLLING IN!

2010-04-08T10:51:00.000-07:00

It seems as if those that ordered the book immediately after its release are just now getting their hands on it?

How do I know this exactly?

Is it because of the psychic abilities I never speak of for fear the government will lock me up, carefully slice open my brain and perform all sorts of unspeakable experiments on me?

Of course not stupid. That doesn't even make any sense. I should smack you for even suggesting such a thing.

It's actually because they started sending me pictures!

I'm not entirely sure how or why this started, but I like it, and I'm appreciative of each and everyone that shells out a little cash for something I've written.

I just hope you like it - because there aren't any refunds.

KEEP THE PHOTOS COMING!

Steve

THE BOOK IS AVAILABLE!!

2010-04-05T08:19:00.000-07:00

The book is finally available! It popped up on amazon.com over the weekend!

CLICK HERE TO NAB A COPY!

To say I was excited would be the grossest of gross understatements in the history of gross understatements.

Does that make sense?

There are more buying options coming later in the week, but Amazon is the first to pick it up.

If you're feeling extra froggy and want to help me spread the word CLICK HERE Any help in spreading the word that you're willing to offer would be more appreciated than you could possibly imagine.

Seriously, I'll be your best friend and stuff.

Steve!

AUTHOR INTERVIEW with JA SOUDERS!!

2010-03-24T07:08:00.001-07:00

Yep, the book is still delayed. I'm hoping it'll be out sometime this week though.

Whenever it hits, you can count on me to inform you immediately as I am nothing if not a shameless self promoter.

In the meantime, I did an author interview with the indomitable JA Souders over on her blog! She's a true pro, a talented writer, and a grade a interviewer.

My interviewee skills however are still in question.

You'll get some information on the book, a little on me, and a heaping handful of my well documented "quirk."

Enjoy.

CLICK HERE!

She can also be found on Facebook here!

Steven

BOOK DELAYED A SMIDGE - HERE'S THE DEAL

2010-03-20T07:53:00.000-07:00

So it seems the book is a wee bit late in getting where it's supposed to get - which admittedly sucks.

However we're going to take this lemon and make ourselves a little lemonade!

Sound good? Of course it sounds good.

The delay give you yet another chance to get something free.

What I want you to do is keep an eye on - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/

You know, go there every few hours search for me, or the the title, or whatever and the minute the book pops up copy and paste the link then drop it in an email and send it to me at - novakillustration@yahoo.com

The first email I get with a valid link not only gets the book for free, but gets it autographed as well.

If that's not some sugary, tangy, delicious lemonade I don't know what is.

If you're too lazy to do any of this, no worries. I will undoubtedly be bombarding you with messages of some sort the moment the book arrives.

CONTEST WINNER!

2010-03-19T10:00:00.000-07:00

Well, the contest for not only a free but autographed copy of “Forts: Fathers and Sons” has officially concluded, and a winner chosen.

First off, let me just offer up a HUGE amount of thanks to everyone that entered.
The submissions were good – maybe too good. Scratch that, they were far too good. In fact, they were so good that picking one became quite impossible.

The decision making progress made “Sophie’s Choice” seem about as difficult as trying to figure out where to eat dinner by comparison.

I kid you not.

Some of you opted to go the sympathy route…

“…because I am a poor elementary teacher who may be jobless and can't afford to buy books! “

This is undeniably a quality approach. At the same time however it banks on the fact that behind my gruff exterior I’m really just an ol’ softy. Those of you going this route rolled the dice. In truth might just be a big ol’ jerk. Maybe there’s just darkness, and slime, and festering puss filled boils where my heart should be.

Others decided their best chance of success was to butter me up…

“…I really, really want a free copy of "Forts" because I want to get a better idea of the inner workings of the genius who is married to Tami.”

Calling me a “genius.” If that’s not buttering me up I don’t know what is. Admittedly this seems like the most obvious approach. I enjoy a good ego stroking as much as the next guy. Or do I? Maybe compliments make me uncomfortable? Maybe my brain is as black as my puss-boil-heart and I’d almost prefer being ridiculed?

Thus bring us to this approach…

“…because I am too damn cheap to buy a copy. That’s it…I'm also too damn lazy to write anymore reasons.”

I call this one the angry man. While on first glance you might not think it’s the most logical choice. If you know anything about me though, you know that I myself am a bit of an “angry man.” I’m also sort of lazy. It takes some research and a hefty set of scones to go this route.

There were of course a few completely bizarre submissions…

"…fish can't fly, and I'm terrible at pinochle."

Those choosing to go this option obviously know I’m a weirdo and played to those sensibilities. There’s a high chance of success here.

Some opted to flat out threaten me…

“…if I don't Chuck Liddel has promised to kick your ass, and to make matters worse he won't even let you video it to show anyone and then we will spread the rumor that your wife kicked the s&*t out of you while you were wearing ballerina shoes and granny panties.”

Interesting way to go – scaring me into giving away free stuff – I suppose it makes perfect sense on the most basic of levels. At the same time though, there is a flaw in this logic and this submission specifically. You see, I do wear granny panties, but I am not however ashamed of this information getting out.

They’re just more comfortable.

Then there were those that tried to take advantage of my love for the next generation…

“… because, from what I have seen, it will be the most beautifully illustrated story book that I have yet to read to my three children, sure to set their minds racing and inspire their own creativity.”

Do I really love the next generation though?

Some opted for reverse psychology…

“…I've been giving it some thought, and I've decided that I really don't deserve a free copy of your book. I think that you should give a copy to someone who is much more deserving.”

Others broke into a stand-up routine…

“…I was recently threatened with several copies of "Enemy Invaders" and I'm going to need something to hold them at bay."

I have a sinking feeling a few might have been dabbling in mind-altering substances while typing…

“…because, because of the wonderful things you've done, now I'm off to see the wizard & hope he can make my wish come trew of winning your book.”

Though I’ve only listed a few here, there were a lot of entries – a whole lot - all of them good for different reasons. You guys made picking a winner very literally impossible.

I couldn’t do it.

I tried, but I couldn’t.

It’s because of this I opted to get a winner old school roadside barker style.

Yep, I threw the name of every single person into a hat and drew one at random.

Honestly it’s a bit more fair this way anyway, isn’t it?

So who won?

Drum roll please…

No drum?

All right then, screw you.

The winner is Erik Johnson.

His entry?

“…Now, I dont have a sob story for you Novak. My life sucks for various reasons. The least you could do is send me the free f@&$ing book.”

To be honest I might have picked it to win anyway.

Once again, and in all seriousness I’d like to say thanks to everyone that sent an email my way. It was fun sorting through them – lots of fun. I laughed, I cried, I scratched my head and wondered where in the world I met you people. If there was any way whatsoever that I could send each you all a copy I would.

Don’t think for a second that I don’t appreciate each and every word of encouragement and bit of support sent my way, because I do.

I’m hardly deserving of any of it, but I’ll happily accept.

AUTHOR INTERVIEW with LIZ CZUKAS!

2010-03-17T06:29:00.000-07:00

I did an author interview with the incomparable, goofy hat wearing Liz Czukas (No, I don't know how to pronounce it either) over on her blog! Despite the hat, she's a heck of a writer and it was a lot of fun.

You'll get some information on the book, a little on me, and maybe some you never wanted.

It was so much fun in fact, that I'll even forgive her for using the wrong cover image.

Maybe.

CLICK HERE!

Liz can also be found on Facebook here!

Steven

100 WORDS - 100 MONSTERS - EPISODE 3

2010-03-16T08:58:00.000-07:00

In the world of "Forts" there are a hundred doorways leading to a hundred different worlds. While I won't be able to visit them all over the course of the three books, I thought it might be fun to add to the mythology by sketching up a few alien races on the spot.

Here's the third in the series.

The book is being released Saturday the 20th!

Steve

FORTS SAMPLE CHAPTER - THE PROMISE

2010-03-12T09:24:00.000-08:00

Here's a little sample chapter from the upcoming book which is released on March 20th.

Hope you enjoy!

Steven

THE PROMISE

The long white hallway on the fourth floor of the Fairchild Medical Center was mostly empty and rather quiet. Occasionally a nurse or a doctor walked by with their head buried in a set of papers on a clipboard, their shoes clicking against the tile floor with every step. It was night, and with visiting hours coming to an end, most everyone, patients and family alike, had either drifted off to sleep or returned home. On an empty bench near the end of the hallway sat ten-year-old Tommy Jarvis. Too short to reach the floor, his legs swung back and forth over the edge of the bench. His hands rested softly on his lap as he twiddled his fingers quietly, trying his hardest to think about anything other than this place. Behind the door to his right are his mother and father.
For almost a year now his mother had become progressively sicker. At first the trips to the doctor were for small things like high fevers or sore throats or pain in her joints. In the last few months, the trips were more frequent. She was admitted to the hospital three weeks ago, and it was here that she remained. Every night like clockwork his father left him and Nicky with Auntie Carol and go to visit her. On the weekends – like today – he would bring them along. Nicky might be too young to really, truly understand every nuance of what was going on, but Tommy believed the young boy understood the basics of the situation. Their mother was sick, and she wasn’t going to get better.
She was dying.
No doubt Nicky couldn’t make total sense out of the concept of death, but he knew that a time would come very soon when he would never see his mother again.
Tommy looked up as the door to his mother’s room opened; his father stepped out with a sleepy-sad Nicky pulled tightly against his chest. He looked in Tommy’s direction. “Hey buddy…how are you feeling?”
Tommy didn’t know quite how to respond. The idea of summing up everything going on in his head seemed like a task more impossible than anything he had encountered in his young life. He saw no point in trying.
Chris Jarvis gently laid the half-awake Nicky down on the bench next to his older brother, softly brushing the hair from the boy’s eyes. When Chris looked down he noticed his hand was shaking. He could feel a torrent of emotions building up inside him, but forced himself to ignore them. He needed to be strong, even if he wanted so very badly to cry and scream, and denounce his faith in God, the universe, and whatever unseen force was putting his family through this. He wanted to yell at the doctors for not doing more, or curse the nurses for their pointless pitying looks, or simply run away and leave all the sadness and the stress behind, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do any of these things or a number of others. Not in front of his boys, and not now. These were things better left to the nights alone, shrouded in the darkness of his room, spread out across his marital bed with soaking wet eyes. He had to be bigger than that; he had to be better than that, for them – even if it hurt more than he could stand.
After taking a deep breath and wiping away a single tear in the corner of his eye, he knelt down in front of Tommy, gazing into the soft blue eyes of his eldest son. “Hey big man, your mom…your mom wants to see you alone for a minute. Would you like to do that? Are you going to be okay, or do you want your ol’ dad to go with you?”
Tommy noticed the shaking of his father’s hands as well. He spotted the very faint glimmer of wetness, catching the pale glow of the fluorescent lights, in the corner of his eye.
Despite trying so hard, Chris Jarvis could not hide his emotions well.
Tommy wanted badly to see his mother - to hug her and kiss her and hear her tell him that she loves him…and that she will always be there for him…but he knows that isn’t going to happen. Maybe it was the look on his father’s face or the eerie, bordering on downright frightening, silence coming from his mother’s room, but something inside the boy told him that if he went through that door, it would be for the last time. After today he was never going to see her again.
“Well buddy, is that something you think you might want to do? I know your mom would really like to see you.”
Despite his brain telling him to say “no”, Tommy nodded his head yes. He carefully slid off of the bench and moved toward the door to her room.
Gently his father patted him on top of his head, mussing his hair a bit, whispering in a shaky voice, “It’s okay, buddy…everything will be alright.”
Despite his best efforts, Chris Jarvis wasn’t convincing anyone – least of all, himself.
Once he put some distance between his father and him, Tommy heard his father’s voice crack silently as he struggled to keep from breaking down right there on the spot. It was this very tiny, yet extremely telling moment that would stick with Tommy for years afterward, because his father’s voice would never sound the same again. Not only did Chris Jarvis’ voice crack on that day, but his soul did, as well – a crack so deep that it could never be repaired – spreading slowly, until the dam of his emotions shattered completely, devouring everything in its path.
The hospital room was dark, barely lit by the glow of a television set hanging high in the corner, the volume turned all the way down. As Tommy approached his mother’s bed he noticed how small and frail her body looked. The light blue sheet hung over her as if it were resting on a skeleton. Her breathing was labored, her face gaunt, her eyes sleepy, distant and dreamy. She looked far away, almost as if her mind were off somewhere floating above, just barely clinging onto the motionless form that had been left behind, propped up on pillows. Tommy saw her left eye move slowly to the side, independent of her face, as she spotted him standing next to the bed gazing up at her. A weary smile cracked to shape on her worn face, but even the act of smiling seemed a painful experience for her. Her mouth opened as if she wished to speak, but only a puff of air and a gentle hum, just barely a sound, escaped.
Somewhat ashamed at her inability to form sentences, she squinted, focused her mind and tried again, “T…Tommy…ho…how is Mommy’s…s…special little…guy?”
Her hand crawled across the bed sheets like a pale white spider moving toward Tommy. When it arrived at the end of the bed the boy reached up and held onto it gently. He wanted to squeeze it as tightly as he could, but didn’t for fear that it might cause her pain in some way.
“Mommy…is…g…going to go away for a while…bu…I don’t want you…to…ever forget how…much I…I love you…okay, baby?”
The tidal wave of emotions Tommy had been doing his best to keep inside started to make their way out of him in the form of hot liquid now streaming from his eyes. His face instantly grew balmy and tepid, his lip started to quiver uncontrollably and his neck felt wobbly, unable to properly hold the weight of his head. While trying to catch his breath and failing, Tommy looked up at the motionless form that only slightly resembled his mother.
In between deep breaths he did his best to form a sentence, “Bu…but I don’t want you to go.” It wasn’t much, but it’s the best he could manage before breaking down completely.
Megan Jarvis started instantly to weep uncontrollably, as she saw the tears pour from her little boy’s eyes.
She had cried so much over the past year that she found it amazing she had any tears left, “No…no…don’t cry, baby…you need to be strong for Mommy…you…you need to be st…strong.” Using every last ounce of strength buried within her, Megan leaned over the side of the bed, ignoring the incredible pain shooting throughout her body. Reaching down with one hand, she pulled her son toward her.
Tommy moved closer, his face now sobbing into the thin, flower-patterned fabric of her hospital gown.
“This is just part of life To…Tommy. Ju…just another part…” Megan stuttered softly, pulling her first-born’s head away from her shoulder so she could look him directly in the eyes, “All of life is beautiful…all of it. Even…the parts we hate, and even…when it reaches its end.”
Tommy wasn’t completely sure what she meant, but he absorbed her every word like a plant absorbing the life-giving energy of the sun, promising himself that he would never forget even a single one.
“You’re a very special…boy…Tommy Jarvis. I…I…knew from the moment I saw…your tiny little…face. Promise me…promise Mommy that you’ll enjoy life. Promise…me…that you’ll look for its beauty. Promise me, that…you’ll be happy. Promise me…that you’ll do…do…everything that…”
She stopped for a moment, her lips slowly opening as if she is thirsty before continuing, “Promise me that you’ll…that you’ll do everything you think…you can’t…” Her voice had begun to trail off. Her eyes slowly looked away from him toward something she could see that he could not. The hot air softly blowing from her mouth and nose became shorter and colder against Tommy’s skin. Her neck grew looser and her head heavier. Her hands slid off of his face, floating downward, weightless, and landed softly on the sheet covering her body.
Tommy climbed onto her bed, wrapped his arms around her, and buried his face in her shoulder once again. Deeply he breathed in the smell of her hair, relishing it as it floated into his brain.
In between fits of tears, he whispered softly into her ear, “I Promise.”

FORTS: A Little Background, and What to Expect

2010-03-09T15:08:00.000-08:00

With book one in the “forts” series due out in just a couple weeks, and book two tentatively scheduled for sometime later in the year I thought I might type up a little something to give you an idea of what to expect.

I personally think the trailer is cooler than Steve McQueen in “The Getaway,” or a beat up Arnold in the chopper after he finished throwing dukes with the Predator, or even Cool Coolerson moments after winning the “National Cool Competition” in Coolsville U.S.A.

He edged out Coolton McCool for the title.

Honestly though, beyond being so darn cool – the trailer really doesn’t tell you a whole heck of a lot about the plot.

Lets start with a little background.

At roughly 120,000 words book one, which is titled “Fathers and Sons,” was written a little over two years ago and took me about year to finish. Why so long you ask? Well, I was only able to write between the hours of 10pm and 2am, and I did take a few months off sometime around June. Why the time off?

None of your business – stop being so nosey.

I shopped the book around quite a bit and amassed an impressive pile of rejection letters. Most were positive, “I like what you’re doing, but I’m just not interested at this time” sorts of things. There was one slightly pompous, “This is good but I’m just not feeling passionate about it, and I can’t get behind anything I don’t feel passionate about” response, and there were even a couple “I have absolutely no idea who in the world buy this” tossed in there.

With memories of my nerdy high school years rising to the surface once again, I had taken just about all the rejection I could handle and was ready to move onto the next project when Canonbridge came along.

Turns out all of those rejections were a blessing in disguise. Canonbridge has been a dream and at this point I can’t imagine there being a better partner in the publishing process.

I’m not saying that just to brownnose either.

Believe it or not that chocolate colored smear on my schnoze is actually nothing more than chocolate. I’m a messy eater. You know those pictures of little kids with bowls of spaghetti on their heads? I took one of those last week – of me.

When book one hits on or around the 20th of this month it’ll hopefully be some of what you’re expecting, and a lot of what you aren’t. If I can leave you surprised and wanting more I’ve done my job.

Without giving away too much of the plot let me tell you that you’ll get very real drama in a world familiar, and even more in worlds not so much. There are ancient prophecies, underground cities, castles, kings, swords, monsters so incredibly large their heads get lost in the clouds, and an army hell-bent on stacking the bodies of the dead just as high. At the center of it all is a group of five children from very different situations with abilities they can scarcely understand, let alone hope to control.

You’ll get some actions, you’ll get some tears, you’ll get some scares, maybe even a couple laughs here and there, and hopefully a few moments that will you feeling like you’ve been slimed.

I of course mean that in the most positive of ways.

In the end, I just hope you dig it.

I dig it.

If I didn’t I wouldn’t have written it, and would feel like the worlds biggest jerk trying to sell it to you.

Steve

100 Worlds - 100 Creatures Episode 2

2010-03-03T15:33:00.000-08:00

CONTEST TIME!

2010-02-26T10:06:00.000-08:00

I want to give away a free copy of the book.

Why? Well, because I'm a heck of a guy, that's why.

However, giving away something requires a contest, and contests are more often than not a pain in the poop cheeks of those putting them together.

If I'm going to do a contest I want to keep it simple - because I'm lazy.

To enter all you have to do is finish the following sentence:

"I really, really want a free copy of "Forts" because..."

That's it.

Just tell me why you deserve to get the book for free and email it to: novakillustration@yahoo.com

In the end, I'm the judge. I'll pick my favorite and when the book is released you'll not only get it for free, but I'll sign it and maybe even draw a little something on the inside cover. I'll do whatever you want. If you feel like you really need me to put on some lipstick, pucker up and give it a kiss I'll do that too.

Keep in mind however that asking me to do such a thing would be horrifying, and confusing request - no doubt instantly transforming you into a grade-A weirdo in my eyes.

Who knows, maybe you're cool with that? Maybe that's exactly what you're going for? I'm not here to judge really, just give away free stuff.

Make your response funny, give me a sob story, threaten my life and the lives of those I love - I don't care - do what you have to do in order to convince me that you deserve a freebie over the other dudes sending emails my way.

You could even bribe me, though that would seem to defeat the purpose.

THE DEADLINE FOR SUBMISSIONS IS MARCH 15, 2010. I'll announce the winner a few days later.

See, nice and easy. It'll take you all of fifteen seconds. Get to it.

Steve

100 Worlds - 100 Creatures

2010-02-23T14:54:00.000-08:00

COUSIN ALBERT COVER

2010-02-08T15:04:00.000-08:00

Here's the cover I did for a children's book called "Here Comes Cousin Albert" written by Paul Wood. It's due out sometime next month from BenToby Books, and a bit of the process in getting to the final design. First up is a basic character sketch. Below that is a rough of the cover, with some really quick-really basic colors thrown in via. photoshop. At the bottom is the completed cover in all it's glory.

More news when the book gets released! Be on the lookout!

Alright, enough with the shameless shilling for the day - back to work - or is it better described as avoiding work?

Whatever the case, time to get back to it.

Steve

WORK COMPLETED - Forts Club

2010-02-03T15:27:00.000-08:00

Spilled a drink on this one in the early goings. Being the stalwart illustrator that I am however, I rescued it.

"Stalwart" in this case of course means "too lazy to start over."

Which is weird.

A little under two months until the books release!

Steven

COVER ILLUSTRATION

2010-01-23T18:28:00.000-08:00

last year I did some cover work for a talented writer named Mary Ann Bernal and the novel was just released.

Click the picture above to have a look!

Steven

FORTS TRAILER!

2010-01-15T14:09:00.000-08:00

If you're bored (which you no doubt are if you're bothering to read this blog) why not head over and have a look at the unofficial trailer for the new book.

Clicky, clicky the linky below(y).

WORK IN PROGRESS - Forts Club

2010-01-07T10:50:00.000-08:00

I still have an awful lot to do on this one. It's a little promotional piece I'm working on for the book. Not that it has anything at all in common with "The Breakfast Club," nor do I really even like the movie. The pose is recognizable enough though.

Steven

TWICE IN ONE WEEK - SOME SKETCHES

2009-12-30T22:13:00.000-08:00

Two updates to the work blog in less than a week? Start building your fallout shelters because the end of the world is no doubt on the horizon. The sketches above are some rough character/concept stuff from a project written by a friend of mine. I think they came out looking pretty good.

I'm currently writing the third and final book in the Forts series, and finally feeling excited about it. For a while there I was struggling with how to start, and seriously lacking motivation for some weird reason.

You know...because motivation is never a problem for me.

(That last sentence was as sarcastic a sentence as I've ever written.)

Steven

FOUND A PUBLISHER!

2009-12-27T12:16:00.000-08:00

It's been a while, but thankfully I have some good news. I've finally found a publisher for the novel!

If your pants are a little damp after hearing this don't worry - the exact same thing happened to me. Rinse, wash, repeat and the stain should be taken care of.

In any case, I am eternally grateful to CANONBRIDGE for taking a chance with me and the book. It is being released sometime next year, and of course I'll keep you updated. I've started work on a small dedicated site. It's currently a work in progress, but feel free to have a look and bookmark.

FORTS BOOK 1 - FATHERS AND SONS

I'm going to make an effort to update the blog more often with stuff I'm working on. I've just been busy as of late - and yet, more lazy than usual - go figure.

Steve

FORTS BOOK THREE COVER

2009-05-12T08:16:00.000-07:00

Been a while since I've had time to put anything up in the old blog - too long.

Anyway, today the streak ends!

Steve

WORK FINISHED - Forts 2 Cover

2009-03-16T08:49:00.000-07:00

Here's the finished illustration featuring some of the characters from "Forts Book 2: Liars and Thieves." I like how this one came out. In fact, I liked it so much that I've already gotten started on the illustration for the third.

Am I getting WAY ahead of myself?

Without a doubt.

It's what I do best.

Steve

WORK IN PROGRESS - Forts 2 Cover Sketch

2009-03-02T15:07:00.000-08:00

Having finished up editing on "Forts," I've started the query process, as well as getting to work on the sequel. (Which I'll write even if I can't get it published.)

I've also sketched out a little something featuring the more prominent characters from the second book.

If you're interested, here's a link to the first book: FORTS BOOK 1: FATHERS AND SONS

Steve

Forts Spot Illustrations

2009-02-18T08:18:00.000-08:00

Here are a few interior illustrations from chapters in the book "Forts" that I'm currently working on. Nothing amazing, just simple black and white drawings to go over the chapter titles. I'll put up a few more in the coming weeks.

Steve

Pretty Decent Guy = Me

2009-01-29T08:01:00.000-08:00

I'm a pretty decent guy. I've got my faults of course; I'm sort of boring, kind of shy, sometimes I don't shower into well after one in the afternoon, but overall I like to think that the pros heavily outweigh the cons when it comes to your friendly neighborhood Steven. I'm sort of funny sometimes, there are a few people out there worse looking than me, I'm patient, understanding, and if you can manage to get past the Alcatraz-like that I tend wall that I put up, I'm a pretty good friend as well.

That's right, go me! NERD HIGH FIVE!

It's because of one of these good things that I agreed to take five or six hours out of my day last Saturday and put together the six logos above for my wife. The kids in her class at school came up with table names (some of them pretty creative) and she asked me if I would make a logo for each table.

I of course pretended like it was going to be a pain in the rear end of the highest order...you know...to make her more appreciative of the efforts, but in all honesty it was kind of fun. There were some pretty creative names in there, that sparked a lot of ideas, so I can't complain all that much.

Some of them actually came out looking pretty good.

That's right, go me! NERD HIGH FIVE AGAIN!

(I really should stop with the nerd high five thing...I'm starting to look like a nerd).

Steve

Grumpy's Logo

2009-01-21T07:39:00.000-08:00

Just recently finished up this logo for a company. Overall, I think it came out looking pretty good, and I thought I'd share.

No real news to report beyond that. A lot of the same really.

Work, sleep, wife, work, sleep, wife, work, sleep, wife, etc.

It's painfully boring being me.

Steve

WORK FINISHED - Forts Cover 2

2009-01-09T09:05:00.000-08:00

Finished!

Finally!

I have no doubt that if you were in the room with me, you would give me a congratulatory high five, would you not?

Steve!

WORK IN PROGRESS - Forts Cover 2

2009-01-03T17:29:00.000-08:00

I was able to make a little progress on this one over the holidays - not as much as I would have liked to, but progress none the less. Overall, I'm fairly pleased with the way it's coming out. I tweaked the large turtle-guy on the left an awful lot because a bunch of wisenheimers out there kept telling me that it looked too much like a "ninja turtle."

My argument is that an upright walking turtle is going to look like a "ninja turtle" no matter what. Then I told them to "put up their dukes and get ready for the thrashing of their lives!"

Okay, so maybe I didn't do the dukes part.

Steve

WORK IN PROGRESS - Forts Cover 2

2008-12-28T09:34:00.000-08:00

I'll keep this short and sweet.

Hope everyone enjoyed the holidays. Mine were nice and quiet. I made a dinner, put up some candles, and did the "romance" thing with the wife, so I have no complaints.

The above is a piece I'm working on featuring some characters from the novel I recently finished the first draft of. Like the book itself, it's a work in progress.

I like the colors - have high hopes for this one.

Steve

Gangster Strip Sketch

2008-12-19T08:14:00.000-08:00

The above is a sketch I put together for a comic strip that I put together for someone recently. The piece that I eventually did made after this sketch is pretty good. It's been a while since I've had the chance to do work of this ilk, so overall it was a fun little project.

This morning I'm going to put the big kibosh on the first draft of my novel. Feels good to actually FINISH one of these things. I have started so many novels over the years, and generally give up half way through and move onto something else. It's sad.

Maybe old age has brought with it a bit of patience?

In any case, I'm pretty pleased with the results. I like my characters, and I think there's some very real emotion in the pages as well. Could it use some work? Sure, what can't? I'm going to give it to some people, let them read, and hopefully get some good, solid feedback before I start tweaking, and cleaning it up.

Christmas next week. I won't be going home to see my family this year. The wife and I are planning a little candlelight dinner on Christmas Eve, and I'm considering dragging her to see either "The Wrestler" or "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" on Christmas day. It should prove to be a nice, relaxed couple of days, which is exactly how I like it.

Steve

Work in Progress - Forts Cover

2008-12-08T15:00:00.000-08:00

As I get closer and closer to finishing up the rough draft of the novel, I decided to put together a little an image/possible cover. I haven't decided it I'm going to do anything else to this piece yet, but I have some ideas.

Steve!

Frankensketch

2008-12-03T08:13:00.000-08:00

When bored, I sometimes sketch the most idiotic of things.

Hence the existence of the pen sketch above.

It's Frankenstein and his Frankenanimal pals.

Why on earth Dr. Frankenstein would decide that the world needed the creation of a Frankensloth is completely beyond me, but whatever.

Steve

The Holidays Approach

2008-11-25T16:59:00.000-08:00

It has been a while since I posted anything. Things got a bit busy, family stuff, yadda-yadda-yadda, and so on and so forth.

I recently finished up a couple greeting cards for a company called FargoneGreetings. They have a holiday theme and are geared towards runners. If you're interested, head over to their website: fargonecreetings.com and have a look.

Hope everyone enjoys the holidays!

Steve

Sample Chapter - Forts

2008-11-10T13:10:00.000-08:00

Been a rough couple of weeks for me. Nothing that I really want to get into, but lets just say that I've gone through better stretches in the past.

The bit of good news is that I am very near completion of the first draft of the novel that I've been writing for the better part of the year. My goal of finishing it before years end is looking like a possibility. Instead of scanning in, and posting an illustration this week, I've decided to put up a sample chapter from the book.

Remember, this is still a first draft, so don't judge me too harshly. Because if you do, I'll find you...

And send you a nasty email or something, I dunno.

That really was a hollow threat.

Anyway, enjoy.

Steve

The Promise

The long white hallway on the fourth floor of the Fairchild Medical Center was mostly empty, and rather quiet. Only occasionally did a nurse, or a doctor walk by with their head buried in a set of papers attached to a clipboard, their shoes clicking against the tile floor with every step. It was night, and with visiting hours coming to an end most everyone, patients and family had returned home. On an empty bench near the end of the hallway sat seven-year-old Tommy Jarvis. Too short to reach the floor, his legs dangled back and forth over the edge of the bench. With his hands resting on his lap he twiddled his fingers quietly, while trying his hardest to think about anything other than the hospital he currently found himself in. Behind the door to his right were his mother and father. For almost a year now his mother had been growing progressively sicker. At first she was making trips to the doctor for small things like high fevers, or sore throats, or pain in her joints. In the last few months the trips had become more frequent. Three weeks ago she was admitted to the hospital and it was there that she remained since. Every night like clockwork his father would leave both he and his brother with his auntie Carol and go to visit her. On the weekends – like today – he would bring both Tommy and his brother Nicky along. Nicky was too young to really, truly understand what was going on, but Tommy believed that the young boy understood the basics of the situation – his mother was sick, and she wasn’t gong to get better. She was dying. No doubt he didn’t completely understand everything about the concept of death, but he did know that a time would come very soon, when he would never be able to see his mother again.
The door to Tommy’s side opened and his father stepped out with little Nicky pulled tightly against his chest. He looked in the direction of his son, “Hey buddy…how are you feeling?”
Tommy didn’t know how to respond. The idea of summing up everything going on in his head seemed like a task more impossible than anything he had yet to encounter in his young life, and therefore he felt no desire to try.
Chris Jarvis gently laid the very sleepy Nicky down on the bench next to his older brother then softly brushed the hair out of his eyes. When Chris looked down he noticed his hand was shaking. He could feel a torrent of emotions building up inside him, but forced himself to ignore them. He needed to be strong. Even if wanted so very badly to cry, and scream, and denounce his faith in God, the universe, and whatever unseen force was putting his family through this. Even if he wanted to yell at the doctors for not doing more, or curse the nurses and their pitying looks, or simply run away and leave all the sadness and the stress behind, he couldn’t. He couldn’t do any of these things or a number of others. Not in front of his boys, not now. He had to be bigger than that, for them – even if it hurt more than he could stand. After taking a deep breath and stopping the growth of a single tear in the corner of his eye by wiping it away, he kneeled down in front of Tommy, and looked into the soft blues of his eldest son, “Hey big man, your mom…your mom wants to see you alone for a minute. Would you like to do that? Are you going to be okay, or do you want your ol’ dad to go with you?”
Tommy noticed the shaking of his father’s hands. He spotted a glimmer of wetness catching the pale glow of the fluorescent lights in the corner of his eye.
Despite trying so hard, Chris Jarvis wasn’t hiding his emotions well.
Tommy wanted so very badly to see his mother. To hug her and kiss her, and hear her tell him that she loved him, and that she would always be there for him, but he knew that isn’t what was going to happen. Maybe it was the look on his fathers face, or the eerie, bordering on downright frightening silence coming from his mother’s room, but something inside him told him that if he went through that door, it was going to be for the last time. After today he was never going to see her again.
“Well buddy, is that something you think you might want to do? I know your mom would really like to see you.”
Despite his brain telling him to say no, Tommy nodded his head yes. He slowly slid off of the bench and began moving towards the door to her room.
His father patted him softly on the top of the head, mussed his hair a bit then whispered through a shaky voice, “It’s okay buddy, everything will be alright.”
Tommy didn’t believe his words anymore than his father believed them himself.
Once he had put some distance between he and his father, he heard the old man’s voice crack silently as he struggled to keep from breaking down right there on the spot. It is this very tiny, yet extremely telling moment that would stick with Tommy for years afterward, because his father’s voice would never sound the same again. Not only did Chris Jarvis’ voice crack on that day, but his soul did as well – a crack so very deep that it would never be repaired – instead spreading slowly with every passing second, until the damn broke completely and drowned everything in it’s path.
The hospital room was dark. Only barely lit up by the light of a television set hanging high in the corner with the volume down. As Tommy approached his mother’s bed he noticed how small and frail her body looked. The light blue sheet hung over her skinny body as if it were resting on a skeleton. Her breathing was labored, her face gaunt, her eyes sleepy and dreamy. She looked far away, almost as if her mind was off somewhere, floating above, and just barely clinging onto the motionless form propped up on pillows in the real world. Her left eye moved slowly to the side, independent of her face, as she spotted Tommy standing next to the bed looking up at her. A weary smile formed on her worn face, but even the act of smiling seemed a painful experience for her. Her mouth opened almost as if she wished to speak, but only a puff of air, and a gentle hum that was just barely a sound escaped. Somewhat ashamed at her inability to form sentences, she squinted her eyes, focused her mind and tried again, “T…Tommy…Ho…how is Mommy’s…s…special little…guy?”
Her hand walked across the bed sheets like a pale white spider moving towards Tommy. When it reached the end of the bed he reached up and held onto it gently. He wanted to squeeze it as tightly as he could, but didn’t for fear that it might cause her pain in some way.
“Mommy…is…g…going to go away for a while…bu…I don’t want you…to…ever forget how…much I…I love you…okay baby?”
The tidal wave of emotions Tommy had been doing his best to keep inside started to make their way out of him in the form of the hot liquid now streaming from his eyes. His face grew hot, his lip started to quiver uncontrollably, his neck felt wobbly and unable to properly hold the weight of his head.
While trying to catch his breath and failing, Tommy looked up at the motionless form that only sort of resembled his mother. In between deep breaths he did his best to form a sentence, “Bu…but I don’t want you to go.”
Megan Jarvis started to cry almost instantly after seeing her son break down. She had cried so much over the past year that she was amazed she had any tears left, “No…no…don’t cry baby…you need to be strong for Mommy…you…you need to be st…strong.” She used every last ounce of strength buried within her to lean over the side of the bed while ignoring the incredible pain shooting throughout her body, and pull her son towards her.
Tommy moved closer to her and began to sob into the thin, flower patterned fabric of her hospital gown.
“This is just part of life To…Tommy. Ju…just another part…” Megan pulled his face away from her shoulder so she could look him directly in the eyes, “All of life is beautiful…all of it. Even…the parts we hate, and even…when it reaches its end.”
Tommy wasn’t completely sure what she meant, but he absorbed her every word like a plant absorbing the life giving energy of the sun, and promised himself that he would never forget even a single one.
“You’re a very special…boy…Tommy Jarvis. I…I…knew from the moment I saw…your tiny little…face. Promise me…promise mommy that you’ll enjoy life. Promise…me…that you’ll look for its beauty. Promise me, that…you’ll be happy. Promise me…that you’ll do…do…everything that…you think…you can’t…” Her voice began to trail off. Her eyes slowly looking away from him and back off into whatever it was that she could now see that no one else could. The hot air softly blowing from her mouth and nose became shorter, and somehow colder against Tommy’s skin. Her neck grew looser and her head heavier. Her hands slid off of his face and floated downwards, landing softly on the sheet covering her body.
Tommy climbed up onto her bed and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder once again. Deeply he breathed in the smell of her hair, and felt the softness of her skin on the side of his face.
In between fits of tears, he whispered into her ear, “I Promise.”

I Hate Busy Weeks

2008-10-29T12:58:00.000-07:00

I dislike busy weeks, I really do, and the last couple have been among the busiest in quite some time. The good news is that I have dedicated myself to finishing a first draft of my novel before the year ends.

Can I do it? Yes.

Will I do it? That remains to be seen.

I've reached the climax of the story and I can see the end in sight, the problem is simply finding time to write these days. Overall I think it's a pretty solid first draft thus far. It's basically a fantasy story about some kids who end up in another world (which has been done a billion times) but I think how they get there, and what happens when they do are both different and interesting. While it's fantasy, at the same time it's a story about terrible father figures, family, fate, and faith (which is a bit strange seeing as I am by no means whatsoever a religious man) so it works on a few different levels.

Or maybe it doesn't, I don't know. Maybe it's total crap.

Anyway, crap or no crap I'm going to finish the thing before January 1st rolls around.

The sketch above is a very rough sort of outline of a possible book cover. (Really just an excuse to draw some of the characters.)

Work in Progress - Tower Sneaker

2008-10-14T22:35:00.000-07:00

What a strange start to the week it's been. Strange in the way that flying a kite at night is strange. Strange in the way that cutting up a sweet gherkin and sprinkling it on a bowl of chili is strange. Even strange in the way that the fact that Mario Lopez made more money last year than I will make my entire life is strange.

That one is not only strange but it's annoying, frustrating, and just plain wrong to boot.

The above sketch is something new that I'm working on. I kind of like it. Really more about the architecture rather than the characters - very different for me.

Steve

Shameless Shill

2008-10-07T22:23:00.000-07:00

I just finished up the "From the Digital Files of Spacekid" calendar.

Give it a look by clicking the pic below, if you have time.

Alright, I'm outy. Two posts in one week is WAYYY over my quota.

Steve!

New Shirts Available!

2008-10-06T09:36:00.000-07:00

Things have been annoyingly slow around here lately and quite honestly it's driving me a bit bonkers. (Yes, I understand that a grown man using the word "bonkers" is more than a little lame, but this is what happens when you're driven bonkers...you start typing bonkers.)

I recently opened up a Facebook profile, after being talked into it by my wife, and have already run into a few people from my past. Not even High School past...I'm talking Grade School here. It's a little strange meeting up with people during that period of my life, because quite honestly that period of my life kinda sucked. Sucked hard. Sucked harder than the film "Mortal Kombat 2: Annihilation" even. Still, it's interesting to see how much people have changed in the time that has passed.

The difference between a snot nosed thirteen year old kid and a thirty year old man is pretty drastic. (Well, for everyone other than me anyway.)

My wife has the day off work, so I suppose I should wrap this up. Recently I've been working on a series of T-shirt designs called "Spacekid." For the most part, I think they look pretty good. I have a little something else planned for the character, and it should be ready by the end of the month. Until then, I still have a few more shirt designs to unveil.

Steve!

Work Finished - Bird Watcher

2008-10-01T09:42:00.000-07:00

I put the kibosh on this piece at around 1AM while sitting in my darkened home office watching MST3K on DVD, and listening to my wife snore loudly in the next room.

Life is a wondrous and splendid thing, is it not?

Some good news is that after a bit of a hiatus from my novel, I dove back into it yesterday. I think the time away from it did me good. Recharged the batteries. I'm on the homestretch now, and hopefully I'll be finished with my first draft of this thing in a month or so!

Steve!

Work In Progress - Bird Watcher

2008-09-25T01:25:00.000-07:00

It's been a long (and very rough) couple of days for me, so I'm going to keep things quick and simple: Here's the progress I've made on a piece I'm working on. Hopefully I'll have it done sometime next week.

Steve

I'm Such a Nice Guy

2008-09-16T16:21:00.000-07:00

No, seriously...I am. I'm a really nice guy. I'm not saying that I should be given an award or anything, but the fact remains that I am a decent, nice guy. Don't get me wrong, if you want to give me an award, that's fine with me...I won't turn it down.

My wife is a teacher and she moved to a new school this year, and out of the goodness of my heart I designed the schools logo...for free. Want to see it? CLICK HERE. Would a jerk do that? Nope. Would a nice guy? You better believe it bucko!

Not too long afterward one of the students in her class writes something in her reading journal about having trouble drawing noses, which prompts my wife to ask me, "Steven, would you do me a favor and draw some noses in her journal?" So I did. Turns out not only does the girl love the drawing, but the rest of the class does as well and wants me to draw something in all of their journals.

She has 30 kids in her class.

Being the nice guy that I am, I agree. (Not all at once mind, you...but a few a week).

Sound like something a jerk does? I think not.

It feels good knowing that I'm a nice guy. Good, and a little strange, because in all honesty, I wasn't that nice of a kid growing up. Maybe I'm just getting soft in my old age.

NOTE: The above sketch is just something that I'm tinkering with. Trying a different method of computer coloring. I'm still working out the bugs.

Self Portrait

2008-09-05T10:59:00.000-07:00

Thought I would post a recent self portrait I put together. There was a bit of experimentation going on in this one for me. Watercolor, charcoal, colored pencil, pencil, marker, ink, and a wonderful photo of my not so handsome face were used to pull this thing together.
Quite surprisingly, I don’t hate it.
I know, I know…me not hating something that I’ve done is no doubt the first sign of the coming apocalypse. I’m sorry that a pathetic self portrait by a nobody you’ve never met had to bring forth armageddon, but I guess that’s just the way the cookie crumbles.
Or I suppose the way the earth crumbles…as the case may be.

Steve~

Work Finished - Monster Train

2008-09-01T19:31:00.000-07:00

I was finally able to finish this one up last week. Overall, I don't hate it. Is it the best in the series? Naw. Is it the worst, Naw. It's decent, and decent is good enough for me at the moment.

It was sort of an uneventful weekend for me. The wife and I didn't really do much. I've had to take a bit of a break from writing the book in order to get some other stuff done, but hopefully I'll be able to get back to it sometime this week. I'm at a point (somewhere in the middle of the story) that has me a bit stumped. I know how the story is going to end, but I've written myself into a bit of a corner and I'm having trouble getting over a hump. I had hoped that taking some time away from it would help me sort things out in my head, but it really hasn't worked.

Not exactly the most well thought out plan, I know.

I saw a really good movie called "Son of Rambow" over the weekend. A really sweet little story, well directed, funny, had everything really. It didn't change my life or anything, but without a doubt it was a good flick.

Steve~

New Project, New Sketch, Same Old Me

2008-08-26T07:25:00.000-07:00

Not a whole heck of a lot to report today. The above concept sketch is from a recent project I picked up recently. Guy watches bird, giant dinosaur watches guy - fairly simple concept, no?

I hit a brick wall in the writing of my novel last night. Suddenly everything that I write is little more than a pile of poop, stacked on top of another pile of poop. Hopefully taking a few days away from it will clear my head and help me finish this thing. I've started so many novels in the past and have ALWAYS had problems when coming down the home stretch. Some of them I ended up finishing, but absolutely hating, while others I never touched again. I really would like to finish this one - so I need to get my act together.

In other wonderful news I have this weird thing growing on my eyelid. It sort of looks like a zit, but not really - it's a bit more like Quato from "Total Recall." I keep waiting for it to grow arms and tell me that I need to "start the reactor," but it hasn't happened yet.

Steve~

Work In Progress - Monster Train

2008-08-18T16:55:00.000-07:00

WOW! Last week was about as busy a week as I've had in a long time, and the really weird thing about it is that I didn't do a single piece of illustration or design work. Not one!

This week is my wife's first back at school and it's a new school to boot. Because of that I spent all of last week moving everything from her old classroom that we had plopped down into storage, out of storage and into her new room...by myself.

You may not think that sounds like a whole heck of a lot, but this woman has collected a LOT of books in her twelve years of teaching and a lot of books mean a lot of heavy boxes. We actually had to rent a 16 foot U-Haul in order to move all this stuff.

After the moving was done I spent a good eight hours a day, every day, moving desks, moving tables, organizing papers, papering her walls, hanging stuff on those walls, creating more stuff to be hung on those walls, then hanging that created stuff up!

Toss in the fact that the air conditioning wasn't working because the school was still being built, and it was well over 100 outside and you've got a recipe for a tired and very stinky me.

Anyway, all is well that ends well I suppose, and her first day back went decently so I guess it was worth it.

She's going to owe me though...oh yes, she surly is...

Hopefully I can find some time this week to put the kibosh on this darn monster piece.

Steve~

Forts Sketches

2008-08-05T07:54:00.000-07:00

Last night, after becoming bored with paying work (which is something my wife says REALLY needs to stop happening) I took a little break and sketched some of the characters from the children's novel I'm currently writing.

I would say that I'm about halfway though the story, which I think I may have to extend out to a second book in order to tell properly. Thus far, I like what I've written - which is weird because I'm usually my toughest critic.

This is either a good thing, or a very, very bad thing. Only time will tell I suppose.

Steve

Goodbye Sweet Andorian

2008-07-28T10:11:00.000-07:00

Above are a bunch of sketches from a recent project. Shown are four different ways of interrupting a story about a kid and his yellow balloon. Some are better than others I think. Feel free to let me know which one you like (without knowing anything about the tone of the story...which I guess makes it a bit difficult).

I dragged my wife back to the theater last weekend to see the new "X-Files" flick. Overall I can't honestly call it a "bad" movie, because it was pretty decent for the most part. My only issue with it is that it came across like little more than any random episode I could have seen on television. Everything from the look, to the story just seemed a bit "ho-hum" for my taste.

Work on my children's novel, which I have finally decided is going to be called "Forts" is coming along nicely. My wife loves it so much that she insists I attempt to write at least two chapters a day because she wants to know what happens. Though I think her blind admiration of is a bit tainted by the fact that she's my wife, her level of excitement is actually helping me to maintain mine...which means I might actually FINISH this one!

Lastly a recently purchased Andorian Star Trek figure I bought in Vegas broke on me over the weekend. I was trying to pose him in positions he simply wasn't made to be posed in and paid the highest price possible for it.

I've started absent-mindedly chewing on his severed arm, which has helped me deal with loss somewhat.

Steve!

Some Monday Morning Dutch Soccer

2008-07-21T07:51:00.000-07:00

Another Monday morning has arrived!

Actually, I guess I shouldn't have finished that sentence with an exclamation point. Maybe it should have read more like this:

Another Monday morning has arrived...ug.

Yep, that feels much more appropriate.

The above sketch features a few caricatures of Dutch soccer players. Do I know anything about Dutch soccer? No. Do I even know anything about the sport of soccer in general? Not really, no. We do what we can to get paid though.

I dragged my wife to the very first showing of "The Dark Knight" on Friday morning last week. It was at 9:00 in the morning, and I wanted to get there early so she had to get up and out of bed around 7:00 to go and see a movie she had no interest in seeing.

The woman really does love me.

She actually ended up liking it though, as did I, and my inner nerdiness was fulfilled for the day, so I suppose all is well that ends well.

Until this Friday that is...when I do the very same thing to her in order to see "The X-Files."

Steve~

A Busy Wednesday

2008-07-16T08:05:00.000-07:00

It's going to be a very busy Wednesday for me. I've got a lot of work to do and will most likely spend the vast majority of my day hunched over my drawing table in my dark studio with the blinds drawn. I won't take a shower until well after lunch which will make my hair slimy, and my skin greasy, and my teeth still covered with that pasty morning tooth film for most of the day.

That's right...I'm a bridge troll.

I'd tell you to "ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS THREE" before you continue reading, but I'm much to busy to come up with three questions, so instead I'll just wave you through.

The above sketch is yet another rough from the very same recent project the last rough was produced for.

Steve

Monday the "Bun" Day

2008-07-07T14:44:00.000-07:00

Nearly every monday for the last eight years of my marriage my wife has said to me, "Steven, it's Monday the bun day!" What teh heck is it supposed to mean?

I don't know.

No idea at all.

No whatsoever.

Not an iota.

Tuesday is the foose day. Wednesday is the bends day. Friday is the buy day (that one she often attempts to use as an excuse to buy shoes). Saturday is the matter day, and Sunday is the lunn day.

Yep, my wife is completely and totally insane.

The sketch above is a little something from a recent project. I did a couple sketches and this was one of the rejected ones.

Steve~

Just a Sketch, No "Witty" Banter

2008-06-23T09:27:00.000-07:00

Just a little something I sketched last night while laying in bed, half asleep. I'll save you the annoyance of sitting though any of my "witty" banter today.

Steve~

New Shirt Design

2008-06-16T08:01:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I put together a new zombie shirt (because I've been so busy) so I started on another design last night. I haven't even finished drawing it yet, but if you can guess what it is, I'll give you a gold star. (Which will actually just be me typing the words "GOLD STAR" in the comments...I know that's a bit of a let down).

Here's a hint: B.A.

Oh, and I've also (very slowly) been moving some of my designs over to zazzle as well, but that's taking a long time (you know, because of the whole "busy" thing again) I've included a link to the zazzle stuff in the sidebar.

make custom gifts at Zazzle

Steve!

Rough Character Sketch

2008-06-09T14:10:00.000-07:00

Not much to report today. The wife is down and out with back problems again. Things have slowed down a tiny bit as far as work goes, which has allowed me time to get some of my personal projects started...that, and lay around lazily. Nothing really changes around here.

I'm starting work on something new (that I can't really go into detail about just yet) and I decided to post one of my really early, really rough character sketches above.

Steve~

I'm Back!

2008-06-02T17:35:00.000-07:00

Holy toledo things have been busy lately!

Lots of work and lots of family stuff has made it a wee bit difficult to get around to posting on the ol' illustration blog. Add all of that to the fact that I've been having a lot of trouble sleeping and you've got a recipe for disaster more annoying than a weekend long marathon of Ben Affleck movies.

Anyway, hopefully I'm entering a bit of a downspell and hopefully that'll mean throwing something up on here more often.

Hopefully.

I don't like making promises, so we'll just stick with hopefully.

Anyway, my wife has been snapping some pictures of me early in the morning and we think that we've discovered the reason I'm not getting any sleep.

The stupid cats seem to think my head is their bed.

(Don't give me any guff on the black and white stripped quilt. I've had it since I was a kid, it's ugly as sin, it needs to be thrown away, I've heard it all from my wife more than once. I'll tell you the same thing I tell her...it's not going anywhere. That's right, I'm a thirty year old Linus. Deal with it.)

Steve~

Gator / Monkey Sketch

2008-05-19T10:38:00.000-07:00

Here's a little sketch I whipped up last night. Nothing really remarkable. A monkey riding a gator. I've been working on ways of cartoonizing (which I'm pretty sure isn't a word) animals.

My back is pretty much healed up. I don't think I even really get out of bed this weekend and I did the ice/heat thing almost constantly. The wife is still down for the count though (sort of) which sucks for her because she's got an exceptionally long day today. I tried to convince her to take the day off work, but she's dedicated and decided that she couldn't.

Yet another reason why I like working out of home. ;)

Steve~

The Broken Back Twins

2008-05-16T16:31:00.000-07:00

Both my wife and I have rather annoyingly been struck with some terrible back pains at the exact same time. This is especially sucky because both of us are hobbling around the house like a couple of injured camels, complaining, whining, and generally being a pains in the butt.

Yep...lots of fun at the ol' Novak household.

I put a few new zombie designs up recently over at redbubble, including one just in time for the new Indiana Jones flick. Feel free to check them out.

Steve~

Cat Sketch

2008-05-13T14:16:00.000-07:00

It's been a surprisingly light week, which has given me time to work on some stuff of my own, which is good.

At the same time it's also given me the opportunity to laze around my house wasting time and not showering until nearly three-thirty in the afternoon, which is not quite as good.

(My wife doesn't appreciate the odors).

The above cat drawing is a little sketch I finished off this morning for a possible job, proving that even on the laziest of weeks there is still work to do.

Steve~

Zuda Rejection

2008-05-08T13:54:00.000-07:00

Today I received my rejection letter from zuda comics regarding my webcomic submission. It was your basic "thanks for submitting" sort of thing. If I hadn't already received about ten million of them in my somewhat short illustration career I would be upset, luckily at this point in my career rejection letters are about as "fresh and new" as the high top fade.

Because I am completely incapable of simply leaving the story hanging I've decided to go ahead and update it and continue the story when I get the time.

Click the link above if you're interested or possibly just bored and give it a read.

Steve!