This is a guest post by my talented artist friend Genesis Whitmore.

I powwow with artists sometime and during one discussion the subject of people’s characters came up. I’m altering the specifics just in case someone is afraid I’m singling them out, but basically it came down to someone loudly insisting their character was unique because they had different colored markings. Their cheetah had blue and purple spots while someone else’s cheetah had purple and blue spots.

I can almost discern the age and creation timeline of someone’s character by their appearance these days. A lot of the old guard represent themselves with fairly common characters that resemble their creators. As time went on people started picking more exotic creatures, then we ended up with characters that had wings, multiple tails, horns, then hybrid animals, then exotic colors and more horns and wings and tails and elaborate tattoos and jewelry, and they were no longer known by their creator names. Joe Fox became Steeltalon Dragonwolfen (And if there is a Steeltalon Dragonwolfen, I apologize for taking your name in vain).

All this is well and good, but one of the problems is that people are creating characters for the sole purpose of them being different with no thought to design. They just want MORE wings, MORE bright colors, MORE words in the name, MORE hybrid.

One thing I find in common with the really detailed and strange creations is that the creator always has the same complaint about their commissions, “Nobody ever gets my character right!” It’s amazing how few people consider that they just have a crazy design that needs to be simplified or changed instead of simply blaming the artist.

During a livestream I pulled my blotter sheet under the camera view so people could see the mad swatches of color that covered it from me testing the hundreds of colors I use as I work. Then I got a black marker and drew a simple black rectangle next to it. I asked the audience which was more memorable and the answer was the black marking.

Look at iconic characters from comics and consider how many have very simple color schemes. Their uniforms are 1-3 colors. Some have weird physical characteristics but not all of them. The thing that makes the character unique is what it does and how it acts.

People are losing sight of what makes a character unique and turning them into impressionist paintings rather than characters. Having spots that are six different colors isn’t the thing that will make you stand out, and in the long run it might, in fact, make you more of a complicated mess that nobody really finds that memorable as it gets lost in a sea of sparkledogs.

Weird colors are fine, wings and horns and other things are fine as well, but remember that more isn’t always better, or as memorable.

It’s time for me to disappear. I’m so steenking close to finishing my next album, The Lives of Dexter Peterson, that I might go insane if it ain’t done soon. Rather than risk a padded apartment, I’m locking myself into the studio with a pile of fish and central coffee piped in. I won’t be blogging much, tweeting much, or seeing much sunlight until I have a disc ready to send for mastering. BUT I’LL STILL BE HERE.

In the mean time, PLEASE help me out by spreading the word about the upcoming album. If you’ve got friends that haven’t heard my music yet, burn ‘em a CD of your favorites and pass it around. One thing I really want to do (since the album’s also paired with a novella and comic) is play comic, sci-fi, and anime conventions once I come up for air again.

If you attend any of these kinds of cons, PLEASE drop the programming people a line and point them to www.matthewebel.com/geek

I’ll see you on the other side!

For as long as I’ve been writing short stories I’ve struggled to formulate plots and environments that immerse, entertain, and provide an escape for the reader. I say “struggled” because every time I write, that’s what’s happening. Some authors can craft fantastic realms that are so real and so engaging in a single brainstorming session at Starbucks.

Not me. I’ve found that, as far as fiction-writing is concerned, my comfort zone is in character creation. I love bringing someone or something to life and seeing what they can become as the plot progresses. For as many calories as I burn trying to write that plot in the first place, developing a character is actually fun. Hell, it’s practically the reward I get for working on the story itself.

One of my favorite examples lives in my current endeavor, The Lives of Dexter Peterson. At one point Dexter becomes the captain of a small starship and one of his officers is an entity named Huey. Here’s a blurb:

“Hang on to something,” [Dexter] interrupted, “we’re going for a field goal.” [Alexandria] looked confused for a moment but wrapped her arm around a nearby rail anyhow. Huey could be seen behind her, oozing about and generally enjoying the excitement. With no bone structure and a body that closely resembled key lime pudding, he never needed to strap in. The last Dexter saw of him, Huey had splattered all over the ceiling with an enthusiastic giggle.

I wrote the last two sentences as an afterthought- a “wouldn’t it be cute if” moment -never thinking a peripheral character like that would develop much. Then he grew on me. All it took was the image of a pile of goop riding out a space battle and screaming “wheeeeee!” Humans can be predictable and commonplace, but an amorphous space blob just proved too much fun to resist. The “wouldn’t it be cute if” turned into a serious line of questions that would define the character.

If he’s not humanoid, how does he move?

What kind of voice would a pile of goop use, if he spoke at all?

Does Huey eat? How? What’s his diet like?

The questions kept coming and, as I learned more about Huey, he became more than a prop. Huey was alive.

I decided to make Huey a simple-minded creature because I couldn’t imagine any reader taking a pudding-based life form too seriously. The simple mind gave Huey an innocence that further endeared him to me, so I couldn’t kill him off in his first scene. That’s a trap I’ll often fall into; if I end up liking a character, I really don’t want them to go away. I wanted the readers to learn more about him.

Okay, that’s a lie. I wanted to learn more about him. Playing with an intelligent pile of goop was like finding that one Lego that fits a hundred different ways into whatever you’re building. The possibilities stacked up quickly and as I wrote I was almost giddy with fascination. Okay, that’s another lie, I was giddy. At points I actually giggled like a schoolgirl in whatever coffee shop I wrote in. People must think I’m weird.

In any case, as I write more fiction (and, on occasion, song lyrics) I’m always looking out for those characters that I can fall in love with. Whether or not my settings and story progression suck, at least I’ll be surrounded by good company.

Sometimes the muse just ain’t kicking in the way you want her to.

Planning a long-term creative project is like planning any other business venture: If you’re only planning for success, you’re planning to fail. If your budget doesn’t account for the inevitable months or even years of sluggish numbers, you’re looking at your business through rose-colored glasses. Smart businessfolk plan their futures assuming some shit will eventually hit some fan somewhere up ahead.

The same is true for creating a new world. One of the reasons I was so excited about doing The Lives of Dexter Peterson was the fact that it involved more than one creative outlet. I, like you, am rarely ever out of ideas. Even if I’m staring at the keys unable to conjure up a melody, there’s a good chance I’m thinking about some lyrics or another chapter of the story itself. When I started this journey I knew there would be times when I just didn’t feel like making music.

Right now I’m in a lyrical trough. I’ve got a ton of interesting musical ideas in my head, but nothing to say. Even guided by the now-complete story itself, I’m stuck without words. And that’s perfectly fine.

Eventually, words will come. Right around the time my Tonal muse disappears, the impish little Lyric muse will show up again. I can’t plan on when these muses shift, but I keep all the different aspects of this project at the ready. When I feel a creative shortfall settling in, I’ve already got a Plan B.

Music piracy, as we all know, is the sole reason for the downfall of the Big Label Music Industry™, right? Those damn kids with the BitTorrents and the WiFi’s, P2Peeing all over my lawn like they own the place. They don’t value music at all anymore, so musicians will have to earn their living selling shirts or with a side job. Right?

Bullshit.

My industry, like many right now, suffers from one major source of adversity: De-humanization. For twenty to forty years “stars” had been bred as an image of an elite icon, something above the rest of us. Rock stars are whisked away after the gig into a locked bunker where only the VIP’s are let in. Rap stars drive Bentleys made of solid gold, at least according to all of their videos. Country stars are driven to the Nipper’s Corner Starbucks in a Hummer limousine, yet are expected to sing the ballad of the blue-collar working man.

When the peak of “legitimacy” in your industry is to become an icon so far removed from reality, you rob the entire process of its humanity.

It’s something like the tale of Icarus from Greek mythology. The larger-than-life images are like wax wings, taking the industry higher as the fantasy appeals to the buying public. Soon thereafter, the perception of music itself changes: Regular human beings don’t make this stuff, rock stars do. There’s no emotional or personal connection with the human being that made that album on that torrent site, so it’s much easier to download it without feeling guilty. The human being simply isn’t perceived as a part of the process anymore.

The wax wings just took the industry so high that they melted under the heat of reality.

At the heart of all creations- music, textiles, cars, websites -there is a human being burning calories and sweating to make it happen. There always has been. We don’t value music or toasters or plumbing nearly as much as we value each other. This new world of new media has made it so much easier for fans to connect with the artists they love. Maybe we can still be larger than life, just not so far above it that our own hubris brings us down again.

The only thing that will save the music industry- and any industry, to be honest -is a focus on re-humanization. Less of the factory-farmed processes and more of a real, personal “I made this” approach. Everyone loves a fantasy, but as any geek living in their mother’s basement can attest, eventually you must connect with other human beings as a human being.

People, at least in this life, are more valuable than anything else.

I am not a revolutionary. I am only a Voice, just like you.

I did not begin as a Voice, I began as a listener. Like many music fans I spent my childhood plugged into radios, tapes, even an old 8-track. I listened to the music that was given to me by those who controlled me: Parents, teachers, preachers, radio stations, and record labels. Back then I thought I had no choice.

I became a pianist because, even at age five, I wanted to become more than just a listener. For twenty years, however, I learned to listen and repeat. Bach, Mozart, Rachmaninov- they were all Voices, not listeners. I learned to mimic them for two decades or more, learning how to be a better Voice, if I ever became one.

Meanwhile those with power used their Voices every day. The message remained consistent: Practice well and someday one of Us will let you be a Voice. One of Us will anoint you and make you famous. Us chooses who climbs the charts because we make both the Voices and the charts they climb. You can become one of those Voices eventually, but first you must please Us.

I’ve never been good at pleasing Us.

I listened as best I could to my teachers and professors, earning a degree that made me a Better Musician™. Still, I was not a Voice. I worked for a record label that made the music I listened to, but still I was not a Voice. I played with some of those who had been anointed by the record labels in venues anointed by the Us of the media. Still, I was not a voice. I thought I’d done everything I was supposed to, just as Us had been telling me since I was five.

Then, in 2005, I met You.

You, like me, were taught that you were not a Voice unless Us decided you were. You listened and listened until finally You grew tired of the Voices that Us fed you. Like me, You saw technology as a way to reach more of You. Like me, You no longer wanted to wait for Us to make you happy. You learned that You were everywhere.

I did not find You, You found me. You anointed me because You made yourself into a Voice. You created podcasts and internet radio shows, You invited me to become a Voice along with You. You lived in virtual worlds when the world of Us did not suit you. Us taught me to understand and mimic the Voices, but You finally made me one.

Now Us is not pleased. Fewer of You listen to their Voices, but still Us fights to maintain control of You. Us will tell you that the Voices you choose- even your own -are the “Cult of the Amateur“. Us will tell you that only through their Voices will anyone else listen. A band is “just an indie” until Us makes them “legit” or “famous“. A show is “just a podcast” until Us broadcasts it with an hour of advertisements to weigh it down. An idea is “just a blog post” until Us prints it on dead trees.

Us wants you to listen quietly, but no one can stop a Voice. Us needs You.

We cannot destroy Us- we must not. Us is our past and our foundation. Like King David, Us is an example of both good and evil. We must learn from Us even as we free ourselves from its control. We do not fight to silence any Voice, we create them. We transform listeners into new Voices even as we teach old Voices how to listen.

Us taught me to listen, You made me a Voice. We must not stop fighting until all become listeners and Voices.

Now that the big conventions are all out of the way for a couple of months, I’m really trying to focus on the world(s) of Dexter Peterson. One of the things I love the most about writing is the experience of jumping into another person’s life for a while. It’s the cheapest vacation you’ll ever experience, trust me.

Right now I’m trying to become the Dexter Peterson that almost had his head blown off in France. I’m not a military guy, even though everyone in my family has enlisted in some form or another. One of my best friends from high school is still flying C-130′s over the desert and a local friend has been to Iraq a couple of times so far.

Yet here I am, a lifelong musician trying to write 20 pages about life in World War II. Given the nature of the story, it actually makes a bit of sense. Dexter gets no training and no shakedown before jumping into the next life, so he’s as clueless as I am. Every so often- while making a cup of coffee or taking out the trash or something -I’ll stop and think to myself, “what would happen if I turned around and suddenly found myself in a machine gun battle?”

I wonder if regular musicians writing love songs ever have to do this kind of abstract thinking. Shit, how many alt rock albums actually require library research and references?

In the back of my mind I can see crowded theaters and conventions where people waited in line in the cold to see me in concert… Yet I know that I won’t get to that point until I can place myself behind a filthy hedge row somewhere in France, ducking bullets and running like mad for a farm house a few miles away. If you need me, hit me on the radio and make it snappy- I may need to blow something up relatively soon.

You can get your face and likeness in my upcoming graphic novel project, The Lives of Dexter Peterson.

Genesis Whitmore

Any VIP or higher members of Matthew Ebel dot net can send me a photo and she’ll work them into the book… somewhere.

Think about it… You’ll be forever immortalized in the tale of a man surrounded by faces- always changing, temporary, and impersonal until he finally sees that one face that doesn’t change. With over eleven thousand groups of friends, enemies, lovers, colleagues, and family, there’s no telling who he’ll meet next. Or who YOU will be in that crowd. The only constant is the mysterious girl who never changes.

Are you not a VIP yet? Sign up at www.matthewebel.net today and put your face in this project!

If there’s one thing I learned from my former years playing in houses of worship, it’s that the Sunday morning experience is designed for maximum effectiveness. Granted, some churches are more finely tuned than others, but the principles of your average worship service should apply to every single concert you play.

• Start with an engaged crowd. Even if it’s just the first row or two, a well-timed “Hallelujah!” now and again will get the cold crowd to warm up a little.
• Appeal to all five senses. Studies have shown that we remember events better if all of our senses are engaged. The Church, in its various forms throughout the millennia, has evolved to adopt this level of impact.
  1. Sight: Robes, banners, crosses, flowers, statues, you name it. Stained-glass windows and flying buttresses were designed specifically to catch your eye.
  2. Sound: Obviously, a church service involves talking and music. If your shows don’t have either, you’re reading the wrong article.
  3. Touch: At some point in most services there’s a moment to shake the hands of people around you. Perhaps there’s a laying on of hands while a blessing is read. In a world where we’re naturally suspicious of everyone else, a gentle touch from someone with a good message can leave a lasting impression.
  4. Smell: Roman Catholics nailed this one by swinging balls of incense. Mine would hang evergreen boughs in the sanctuary during Christmastime. Maybe your church bakes fresh bread for communion. Maybe it’s just the smell of coffee before and after the service… One way or another, your nose is being spoken to.
  5. Taste: In my religion, this one dates back to the guy that started it. The tradition of a little wine and bread was coupled with a very specific statement: “Do this for the remembrance of me.” Not bad advice.
• Audience Participation! This one deserves its own exclamation point. The reformation introduced many concepts into the Christian church, one of which was the involvement of laypeople in the worship service. People are more likely to pay attention if they’re a part of the experience.
• Speak their language. Again, another gift from the Reformation. If the people speak German, why are the services in Latin? Sure, you can prepare your talking points before a show, but pay attention to your audience and converse with them on a level that they will understand.
• Give them a mission. If you’ve reached someone, they won’t want the experience to end. Give them something they can do after the concert is over- even if it’s as simple as “give this download card to a friend who’s never heard of us”.

I’m not suggesting for one second that you train your fans to worship you… but you can certainly harness the power of thousands of years of effective organization to spread the word about your band.

What makes a musician think he can become a comic book writer? Music is all I’ve done since I started playing piano at age five. I’ve toured as a professional since 1999, got my degree in Music, and I’ve been making my living entirely from my music for a few years now.

So what the hell am I doing attempting to release a graphic novel? I’ve never done anything like this before. I do not run in comic book circles, I’ve never been to a comic book convention, and one look at me will tell anyone “this is not a comic book person.” I feel like an interloper heading to foreign territory. Why am I going there?

The simple answer is that I’ve never been there. The smart business move is to play to your strengths, but creativity is a collapsing bubble. If we don’t work to expand our reach, our abilities will stagnate, shrink, and eventually just fall apart. I’ve had stories and characters in my head for years (some of whom I talk to when no one else is looking), I finally felt compelled to bring them to life.

Kinda hard to do with just music, right?

I’ll be honest, though, I’m a little nervous about this whole process. I’ve never published a book before, but that’s going to be part of the project. I’ve also never worked with a real collaborator before either. Session musicians, voice actors, sure, but those are volunteers and contract help. Without them, I could find a way to make a project work if I had to.

This time, The Lives of Dexter Peterson simply cannot happen without Genesis Whitmore. I’ve never relied on a creative partner before, but I know she’s as into this project as I am. We’ve bounced ideas off of each other and made Dexter’s world(s) larger.

I think we’ll pull off something wonderful by next year, but it’s an area I’ve never played in before. I’m diving in head first and hoping for the best. Who knows? Maybe by the end of this experience I’ll be a comic book writer instead of just a musician.