For those who've been asking: no, I'm not leaving Nightwing. Dexter Soy, who's been my co-conspirator on the book since issue 119 across the Cirque Du Sin storyline, announced last week that 135 was his last issue on the title, and he'll
The writer Alex Paknadel likes to insist to me that Gotham City is Chicago. I tell him he's wrong, that it's bloody called Gotham, and Gotham does and always has meant bloody New York. It's a nickname born of Gotham in England, a village
Living 3000 miles from where I was raised, Britbox is my portal back home. A streaming service that's not jammed full of adverts, but instead loaded up with British television. I get my money's worth out of it, more than most others. It's full
As a writer, you can't learn much from David Lynch. I mean, you can do whatever you want, but I wouldn't advise it. And yes, I've read Catching the Big Fish. I've read Room to Dream. I enjoyed them, but I mean
Skipped last week's newsletter as I really hit a point where I had to take "if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all" to heart. I opened Microsoft Word to start composing a rough draft, and it tried to shove AI generative writing
Bless my cotton socks, this book seems to be coming out fast. Nightwing #122 week. This issue features an extended flashback to Dick Grayson's days as Robin, which I enjoyed writing. It also gives us the first clear look at the overarching villainy we've been pitting
Are we all feeling rested? Very good. I spent the holidays in Wisconsin, which means I saw my first white Christmas in probably a decade. Once snow appears on the ground, my Spotify inevitably becomes riddled with black metal. It's snowy music, but it isn't very
The Wound Man is a medical diagram that first showed up in the Fourteenth Century. It is meant to be something of a how-to manual for surgeons; designed to show every malady the human body could encounter, it was often the index page of the texts in which it appeared,
Hello. It's been a minute, hasn't it? I've been so swamped I took a bit of an unexpected hiatus from writing to you. I feel guilty sitting down to noodle with one of these letters when there are fires that need put out. But
Wrote the below a good few years ago on a trip to Rome, and found it in my files today. I still quite like it, and I'm still playing catch up after NYCC; so here you go. The room in which John Keats died is a claustrophobic box.
If you're looking to understand and study character, I'd highly recommend entering the savage world of UK Channel 4's Come Dine With Me. For the non-Brits: Come Dine With Me is a reality TV show in which four or five (depending on the season)
What's even worth saying? Writer's block does not exist, but tell me that at 2 am the day before a deadline- when the pile of scenes in front of me refuses to accrue into a story and I'm all out of Malbec- and I