The Night the Power Went Out has come to a close, and thanks to everyone for reading!
Writing a long-form poem in iambic pentameter has been something I've wanted to do since reading the Canterbury Tales in high school. Weird, I know, but I always thought it would be fun and challenging to try. I practiced a few, and never got that far, mainly because it's really, really hard to both rhyme and keep to the meter. I cheated here, some, but if you ever try it, you'll see why it's basically a necessity.
Thanks to Barnaby Bagenda for his fantastic art. He really brought the characters to life, and I wish him all the best in his career. If the major comic book companies don't snap him up, they're missing out on a great artistic talent. His style reminded me of Alex Ross, and I don't think I could pay a higher compliment in comic book artist world.
For the readers, I genuinely appreciate you for sticking with it, and I appreciate the comments (even and especially the critical ones, which help the most with trying to improve things). It's a strange format and poetry that follows rules isn't very popular these days, but for anyone who wants to learn to be a better writer, there's nothing I can think of that's a better way to practice. The rules may be arbitrary, but they force you to be creative to work within them. When you go back to writing without restrictions, everything seems so much easier.
Thanks to you all, and if you didn't like the poetry, I hope you at least liked the pictures.
For everyone who stuck through to the end, you probably know from the sidebar that I'm switching to writing novels (art is great, but it costs a lot of money for someone like me with no talent for it beyond stick figures). If you're interested, below is a teaser blurb for my first book, which I'm hoping to put on Amazon at the end of June. You can sign up for an e-mail notice on the sidebar, or I'm sure I'll plaster all the Minion Comics sites with ads once it actually comes out. It's inspired by another epic poem, Paradise Lost.
"They say that long ago, there was a rebellion in Heaven. That an army of angels sought to seize the throne, and were cast down into the pits of Hell in punishment. Those are the affairs of angels, and everything would have been fine if they’d kept them to themselves. But there’s been another uprising, and another Fall. Cast down to Earth, the rebel angels ravaged the globe in an orgy of sin and violence as they indulged in their newfound freedoms. Their new home is the Perch, a black, towering monstrosity that blights what’s left of the New York City skyline.
Life inside the Perch means you watch your tongue, if you’re a servant. Jana has lived there since she was a child, and now she’s found herself thrust into the middle of angelic politics. Some of them want to torture her, just for the fun of it. Others say they want to protect her. And Rhamiel, a charismatic and powerful angel with one of the few faces that wasn’t burnt and scarred by the Fall, is relentlessly pursuing her affections.
Life outside can be just as dangerous. Strange things fell with the angels and wander the countrysides. The roads are filled with Vichies, cringing humans who’ve thrown their lot in with their oppressors and won’t hesitate to take advantage of the weak. But some are still fighting, including William Holt. He leads a small cell of fighters, searching for a way to strike back against the angels without getting themselves killed in the process. And all around, the fallen angels inflict their savageries on the dwindling remains of humanity, enjoying every vice they’d been forbidden during their long centuries of service."