Tag Archives: artist

On the Passing of Alan Rickman

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Alan Rickman

In Memoriam Alan Rickman, by Monica Marier

Every time someone I admire dies, I try to draw an in memoriam picture. This is the only one that’s ever come out looking right.
Writers like to have a “stock cast” when they’re looking for characters to bring to life. We’ll often enlist our favorite big screen actors to play roles to help us flesh them out.
I cast Alan Rickman several times in my books and series.

He gave Gruthsfield his deadly chilliness,

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Tyrrus Gruthsfield, by Monica Marier

Vilori his hauteur and dry humor,

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Vilori Reagan, by Monica Marier 

and Dunstan his grit and his soul

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Dunstan by Monica Marier courtesy of tangentartists.com

 

…not to mention countless other gifts to characters. And in losing him today I feel like I’ve lost a muse and an imaginary friend. I’m blubbering a bit as I type this.
God speed you on your journey, Alan, and continue to inspire from beyond the stars.

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Another Twist in the Road

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Well, okay here we go. I’ve been putting off writing this, because I’m still figuring it all out, but I’ll do my best.

Hunt Press and I have mutually parted ways and I am currently without a publisher. They wished me all the best and I wish them the best of luck. I’ll never forget that Angela was the first publisher to believe in my and my work. They were my first break and my first fans. But things came up and they optioned me the rights to my works back and we both agreed that would be the best course. Thanks for everything, Angela, Barrie, Laureen, and Tamala, and I’m glad we’re all still buddies.

I’m excited and scared and a little overwhelmed.

What does this mean? Well it means that currently my Hunt Press works are unavailable for purchase at this time. If you REALLY need one, I have a grand total of 3 books left (2 of Runs in Good Condition and 1 of Madame Bluestocking’s Pennyhorrid. Email or message me if you want to buy them.) I’m working to rectify that which means, for the time being, I will be publishing my past books through my LLC, Tangent Artists. We’re the guys who came up with “The Handbook for Saucy Bards,” and “A Cleric’s Guide to Smiting,” so I think they’re in good hands.

So what now? Well, my top priority right now is getting Book 3 in the Linus Saga, “No Shoes, No Service,” out there for those who have been waiting so patiently (and for those who have been waiting impatiently). I don’t want a five-year-gap in releases to become a six-year-gap. Then maybe I’ll go down the line with re-releases of Book 1 “Must Love Dragons,” Book 2, “Runs in Good Condition.” And maybe then I’ll even be able to release the prequel I’ve been working on, “Must Love Humans.”

The reason I say “maybe,” for all of this is because after all these years I’ve realized that doing it on my own isn’t helping my career any and I will begin soliciting for an agent. I am currently looking for someone to represent me, so if you like my writings, musings, and other things and want to see more of them, any help you can give me in this matter would be spectacular.

This is where you can help: as most of you know, I’ve dedicated several years of my life to working on these projects. I’m also writing 3 webcomic series that I publish every week for free. GRATIS. By publishing books, and doing freelance work, the money I make goes to, not only help my family, but it also pays for the equipment and time spent on providing free entertainment to the internet for all to see. Please consider visiting the Tangent Artists storefront and purchasing something. Every little bit helps. It will also raise funds to help produce Book 3, so I don’t have to go too deep into my pocket to do it.

Tangent Artists also has a FULLY BACKED kickstarter that’s ending in only a few hours. If you like to play FATE rpgs, or know someone who does, the Fate Accompli erasable game aides are a great product, and a SURE THING crowd-funding-wise.

Okay. I know you all got my back on this. I’m so honored and blessed to have so many people gunning for me, buying my books, asking for more, giving me assurances and encouragement, and spreading the word. I’m so grateful that my fellow Tangent Artists have got my back too and are willing to set aside comic-making time to help me get this done.

And you. You, the person reading this, you are my reason for doing this. Thank you. Thank you for everything and let’s continue in this vein and grow old together as I work hard to make more stories and art to entertain you. It’s going to be a wild and crazy ride, and this is just another hairpin turn in the “flying dutchman” coaster that is life, so let’s just throw our hands up in the air and scream for the fun of it… and hope we don’t get clobbered by a random seagull like Fabio did.

Love to all,

Monica Joanne Marier

ADVENT CALENDAR DAY 21

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START AT THE BEGINNING

Let me see some tenderness connected with a death,’ said Scrooge;’ or that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left just now, will be for ever present to me.’

The Ghost conducted him through several streets familiar to his feet; and as they went along, Scrooge looked here and there to find himself, but nowhere was he to be seen. They entered poor Bob Cratchit’s house; the dwelling he had visited before; and found the mother and the children seated round the fire.

Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Cratchits were as still as statues in one corner, and sat looking up at Peter, who had a book before him. The mother and her daughters were engaged in sewing. But surely they were very quiet.

`And he took a child, and set him in the midst of them.’

Where had Scrooge heard those words. He had not dreamed them. The boy must have read them out, as he and the Spirit crossed the threshold. Why did he not go on.

The mother laid her work upon the table, and put her hand up to her face.

`The colour hurts my eyes,’ she said.

The colour. Ah, poor Tiny Tim.

`They’re better now again,’ said Cratchit’s wife. `It makes them weak by candle-light; and I wouldn’t show weak eyes to your father when he comes home, for the world. It must be near his time.’

`Past it rather,’ Peter answered, shutting up his book. `But I think he has walked a little slower than he used, these few last evenings, mother.’

They were very quiet again. At last she said, and in a steady, cheerful voice, that only faltered once:

`I have known him walk with — I have known him walk with Tiny Tim upon his shoulder, very fast indeed.’

`And so have I,’ cried Peter. `Often.’

`And so have I,’ exclaimed another. So had all.

`But he was very light to carry,’ she resumed, intent upon her work,’ and his father loved him so, that it was no trouble: no trouble. And there is your father at the door.’

She hurried out to meet him; and little Bob in his comforter — he had need of it, poor fellow — came in. His tea was ready for him on the hob, and they all tried who should help him to it most. Then the two young Cratchits got upon his knees and laid, each child a little cheek, against his face, as if they said,’ Don’t mind it, father. Don’t be grieved.’

Bob was very cheerful with them, and spoke pleasantly to all the family. He looked at the work upon the table, and praised the industry and speed of Mrs Cratchit and the girls. They would be done long before Sunday, he said.

`Sunday. You went to-day, then, Robert.’ said his wife.

`Yes, my dear,’ returned Bob. `I wish you could have gone. It would have done you good to see how green a place it is. But you’ll see it often. I promised him that I would walk there on a Sunday. My little, little child.’ cried Bob. `My little child.’

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My little, little child.’ cried Bob. `My little child.’ He broke down all at once. He couldn’t help it.

He broke down all at once. He couldn’t help it. If he could have helped it, he and his child would have been farther apart perhaps than they were.

He left the room, and went up-stairs into the room above, which was lighted cheerfully, and hung with Christmas. There was a chair set close beside the child, and there were signs of some one having been there, lately. Poor Bob sat down in it, and when he had thought a little and composed himself, he kissed the little face. He was reconciled to what had happened, and went down again quite happy.

They drew about the fire, and talked; the girls and mother working still. Bob told them of the extraordinary kindness of Mr Scrooge’s nephew, whom he had scarcely seen but once, and who, meeting him in the street that day, and seeing that he looked a little -‘ just a little down you know,’ said Bob, inquired what had happened to distress him. `On which,’ said Bob,’ for he is the pleasantest-spoken gentleman you ever heard, I told him. `I am heartily sorry for it, Mr Cratchit,’ he said,’ and heartily sorry for your good wife.’ By the bye, how he ever knew that, I don’t know.’

`Knew what, my dear.’

`Why, that you were a good wife,’ replied Bob.

`Everybody knows that.’ said Peter.

`Very well observed, my boy.’ cried Bob. `I hope they do. `Heartily sorry,’ he said,’ for your good wife. If I can be of service to you in any way,’ he said, giving me his card,’ that’s where I live. Pray come to me.’ Now, it wasn’t,’ cried Bob,’ for the sake of anything he might be able to do for us, so much as for his kind way, that this was quite delightful. It really seemed as if he had known our Tiny Tim, and felt with us.’

`I’m sure he’s a good soul.’ said Mrs Cratchit.

`You would be surer of it, my dear,’ returned Bob,’ if you saw and spoke to him. I shouldn’t be at all surprised – mark what I say. — if he got Peter a better situation.’

`Only hear that, Peter,’ said Mrs Cratchit.

`And then,’ cried one of the girls,’ Peter will be keeping company with some one, and setting up for himself.’

`Get along with you.’ retorted Peter, grinning.

`It’s just as likely as not,’ said Bob,’ one of these days; though there’s plenty of time for that, my dear. But however and when ever we part from one another, I am sure we shall none of us forget poor Tiny Tim — shall we — or this first parting that there was among us.’

`Never, father.’ cried they all.

`And I know,’ said Bob,’ I know, my dears, that when we recollect how patient and how mild he was; although he was a little, little child; we shall not quarrel easily among ourselves, and forget poor Tiny Tim in doing it.’

`No, never, father.’ they all cried again.

`I am very happy,’ said little Bob,’ I am very happy.’

Mrs Cratchit kissed him, his daughters kissed him, the two young Cratchits kissed him, and Peter and himself shook hands. Spirit of Tiny Tim, thy childish essence was from God.

Inktober Day 1

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Okay, hoping to bump up some traffic on here, I’m now participating in a web experiment called Inktober. Here’s the text from the original poster: Jake Parker:

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31 Days 31 Drawings

Every October, artists all over the world take on the InkTober drawing challenge by doing one ink drawing a day the entire month. I created InkTober in 2009 as a challenge to improve my inking skills and develop positive drawing habits. It has since grown into a worldwide endeavor with thousands of artists taking on the challenge every year.

Anyone can do InkTober, just pick up a pen and start drawing.

InkTober rules:

1) Make a drawing in ink (you can do a pencil under-drawing if you want).

2) Post it on your blog (or tumblr, instagram, twitter, facebook, flickr, Pinterest or just pin it on your wall.)

3) Hashtag it with #inktober

4) Repeat

Note: you can do it daily, or go the half-marathon route and post every other day, or just do the 5K and post once a week. What ever you decide, just be consistent with it. INKtober is about growing and improving and forming positive habits, so the more you’re consistent the better.

That’s it! Now go make something beautiful. — reblogged from http://mrjakeparker.com/inktober

Pretty fun stuff, yeah? There were a few requirements as to the types of pens to use and materials, but I can’t really afford the new equipment, so I’m making do with the pens I use every week to ink my comics. I think this would be a good exercise for me because of one key thing:

I never get to practice inking. I’m either already inking stuff, or being busy with something else. When something becomes your job, you seldom have any time to actually practice it and get better, or even to try something different. Inking has always been one of my most hated tasks (closely followed by colouring), and I think it’s time for me to try to do it to the best of my ability.So without further ado…

Day 1

Day 1, Self portrait in Ink using brush-tip pen.

I’m not going to go on with the things I don’t like. They’re glaring and obvious, but I  am proud of how the hair came out. Hair, especially short hair, has always been a struggle for me. This is also using a brush-tip pen which is a pen I usually avoid using at all costs since I tend to press down on my pens like I’m etching things in silver.

Well, that’s it for Day 1. Stay tuned for Day 2.
(Note, some days will be combined if I don’t have access to internet (like I’m at a convention or whatever).

Hope you enjoy this and FEEL FREE TO JOIN ME and post a link to your page/posts! 😀

Character Spotlight: Avery Bachhaussen

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One of the classic rules of writing is that if you want your character to have extraordinary adventures outside of the ordinary you give him a) freedom, b) drive or c) money. Linus running for Union President, like he did in Runs in Good Condition happened totally organically, since I actually hate politics and never thought I’d write about an election. But as soon as I knew that he HAD to run there was a polite knock at my brain and there was Avery again saying, “Um, excuse me? Can I be of any service to you?”

 Avery Bachhaussen

 

Avery first made his appearance at the very end of Must Love Dragons. He was just a Ranger on Linus’ side who helps him out a bit. I had no idea that he was actually going to continue on into The Linus Saga as a character. He’s just one of those ideas that took on a life of their own.

When he started out in my brain he was just an extra that was a carbon copy of Crispin Bonham-Carter’s version of Mr. Bingley in the 1992 production of Pride and Prejudice. But even if he looks identical to that in my head, he’s taken on a character of his own in the process of writing him and turned out far more interesting than I had intended.

Avery is a privileged only son of Old Money, on par with hotel magnates and electronic company CEOs. He’s your classic nice guy. He always wants to help, he’s passionate about causes he believes in and never wants to have anyone mad at him.

But like the standard ‘nice guy’ of today he has a lot of flaws. He’s naïve and easily led by other people’s opinions, ready to accept them without consulting the facts or his own feelings. He takes everything at face value and is quick to divide the world into black and white, until he gets another opinion to zealously believe in. So, basically he’s that guy on Facebook that will share every “share if you want to stop/ help/support____” post, and writes “THIS” about articles outlining the latest injustice without actually reading them or checking the sources—the headline’s pretty much said everything, right?

So, Avery is a sweetheart, but he doesn’t have a single original thought in his brain. Unfortunately that’s starting to clash with his new family. He has a young wife and a (pending) child—another decision he made because he followed societal norms. The problem is that no one is telling him how to do this “family” thing or how to feel about it. There’s no one to form his opinions for him and no one to get him worked up into a fervor about it. How is he going to keep things going without passion for his loved one—passion he instead devotes to his work?

I’ll have to find out in a future book, I guess.

 

FUN FACTS:

*The one time Avery showed the world he was his own man was when he chose to marry someone without money. It was his one act of rebellion against his family, who still constantly criticize his involvement in civil affairs.

*Avery’s very altruistic and donates regularly to causes like, homes for orphans, widows pensions, schools, and apprenticeship fees for boys who might not otherwise be able to afford them.

*He’s also slightly patriarchal, willing to defer to men and let them lead him around by the horns but never thinking that women or children have anything of value to contribute. He himself is unaware of this and would be quite shocked if you told him this.

*Avery became a Ranger to get out going to parties and stuffy mansions. He enjoys spending time outdoors and is a formidable hunter and horseman.