No Death Bar today. For one thing, it’s a bank holiday here, which I’ve decided gives me a Death Bar Holiday. For another, I’ve been working for the last four or five days straight on the final seven episodes of FREAKANGELS. And I have just filed them with Avatar. 42 pages of comics, completing an 864-page graphic novel across six printed volumes. I am done with FREAKANGELS.
Episode 134 goes live Friday, I believe, meaning that (bar skip weeks if something affects Paul’s schedule) FREAKANGELS will be completely serialised ten weeks later. I’ll save my proper post-mortem, if I have one, for after that. Certainly I should write something to thank the amazing Paul Duffield, who’s coped with the roughest “debut” job imaginable with style and grace and incredible growth. One presumes he’ll be able to write his own ticket afterwards. If he’s still alive. (There’s some shots in episodes 138 – 141 that I will have to apologise to him for later.)
But I am done. I am exhausted. The only thing I’ve written that’s been longer is, I think, TRANSMETROPOLITAN. When you get to the ending of something that long, the last thing you’re thinking about is whether or not people will like it, or whether they’ll hate that it’s ending. You’re just trying to get down the ending that you thought of at the start, and making sure everything fits, and killing a last few darlings to smooth out the joins, and doing your best to ensure the thing holds together the way it should. And I’m done with that, after four and a bit days down in the mines with it.
Time for The Cigarette Of Victory, I think.
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