Which brings us to each year’s communal celebration of the passing of our lifetimes:
New Year’s Eve
So what did you “actually get done” in the past year? How closer are you to a grand goal in life? An assessment is made and then the inevitable Step 2 of the yearly process is engaged, which is often a word for word repeat of last year’s Step 2:
The New Year’s Resolution
There seem to be two main strategies that emerge at this point of facing the New Year, a “brand new morning.” The lone wolf quietly acknowledges goals not yet reached, and is even more secretive in the “new plan.” “I’ll show them,” becomes the new private mantra. It works for some people, but my experience has been that I’m splurging on Star Wars memorabilia by Valentine’s Day.
I’ve found that rather than making secret contracts with myself, a much higher success rate is always achieved as a combination of two other elements.
Pablo Picasso
To a truly worthy vision, maybe even one that cannot be achieved in a year, but in a lifetime, is just the sort of quest that engages the starving soul so much more than the common shaving a few digits off of the weight scale. (I personally implemented the "no cookie left behind" program this holiday season so I might want to think about that one too.) But the truth is, New Year’s comes but once a year. It would seem better to me to go big or not at all. Pick projects of real importance in your life – ones that require the more personal attention and dedication to the better.
Should not be a dirty word in the strategies of personal achievement. It has been my experience that the more genuinely useful support I’ve received from the like-minded (as well as the merely curious) has always gone a long way to keeping my Big Picture from faltering. When the potholes in the road forward begin to resemble archeological digs, as it seems they usually do, there’s nothing more heartening in being able to take it all in stride than a word of admiration, advice or encouragement from a fellow dA community member.
In his book "Outliers" Malcolm Gladwell outlines the 10,000-Hour Rule, the thought being that spending ten thousand hours practicing a particular discipline is necessary for mastery of that skill. He also brings up the importance of support in the from family, friends, and mentors in the ultimates success of an individual. No one achieves the highest summit's of success alone. No one. Even the most unique vision requires the nurture of human camaraderie if it is to be developed to it's fullest potential and efficacy.
I find myself thinking about recent achievements as well as a grand vision currently in formation here at deviantART, and how much the atmosphere of this community – how much dedication to art and artists, and how much they are supported and support each other – and I can’t wait to see where life will take all of us in this new year. A tough statement to put out there, considering the unbearable horrors that have recently rained down in our world from weather catastrophes, classroom atrocities, civil wars and the violence related to a radically altered political landscape around the world. But it’s true. I am still hopeful. I am still ready to rededicate my dreams on New Year’s Eve. I’m not sure I’d be making that statement were I not now ensconced and engaged in the deviantART community. But as Kurt Vonnegut used to say, “So it goes.”
For the ReaderDo you make New Year’s resolutions? If not, why not?
Does a goal achieved with the help and support of friends in any way diminish the power of that achievement, or does it become something made all the more memorable and special because of the participation?
What’s the most farfetched resolution you’ve ever declared?
What is your yearly resolution that has still never been achieved?
Do you think it helps to rededicate oneself to a cause, no matter how large or small, regardless of how many times the attempt has failed?
Can you share with us the personal discipline system that works for you as an artist in bringing your work to a next level?
More specifically do you have any tips for those of us balancing multiple responsibilities along with our creative endeavors?
We have decided to extend the writing deadline for the last chapter to December 31 and we're expanding the Word count to 800 words for our final chapter! Artists will then have two full weeks to illustrate our final chapter - meaning artwork for Chapter 8 will be due by January 14, 2013. Any Animations/films and poetry deadlines are now extended until Jan 14! We will then unleash, I mean publish, this tale of Paul’s very unexpected journey!
*BillBlogins, whose name assures a necessary jolt of action to the storyline, always well-executed. He was also a regular contributor to Odyssey I.
~Sayuri14, packed with dramatic action every time. No longer startled to read such compelling hard action being produced by young female writers. This writer packs a real punch.
*littlecrow and her evocative artworks. Her nightmare illustrations of the “transition” scenes in Odyssey II are quite effectively horrifying.
*SeldinTaase’s psychological observations. His observations on intergalactic psyches lent a whole new dimension to the story as political drama. His noirish text was pleasingly atmospheric, a difficult feat to achieve with such limited space.
~EmpyP, of the consistently smoothly-written prose, well-imagined. Her description of these weird sisters internecine struggle is knowingly executed.
~markmywords85, with such clever turns of phrase. No wonder one of his chapters was chosen. His rollicking prose feels like a dragster race down a mountainside. Yet it somehow arrives at precisely the moment to delver the most narrative impact.
~Kill-Natalie, whose vibrant kinetic wordsmithery is always a pleasure to read. A young artist with a sense of grotesquerie that’s quite remarkable.
*EsselPratt, whose descriptions of the intersection of knife’s blade and human flesh are so effectively frightful. But he is also quite good at bringing in a real sense of humanity and human needs, even in an extreme horror story. There is no sense of the perfunctory in his heart-hewn writing.
The atmosphere of friendly competition, mutual aid when needed and fulsome community that has endured throughout all the glitches and hiccups of Odyssey and Odyssey II is something I will always be grateful to have beheld and well worth all the 4 a.m. technical meltdowns. Hopefully this is only the beginning of many such innovative projects. The real prize in this “contest” is witnessing how deviants and other creative entities from around the world can come together in a mere flash of time to help each other build something unique in storytelling that points to the very future of the written narrative.
We have decided to extend the writing deadline for the last chapter to December 31 and we're expanding the Word count to 800 words for our final chapter! Artists will then have two full weeks to illustrate our final chapter - meaning artwork for Chapter 8 will be due by January 14, 2013. Any Animations/films and poetry deadlines are now extended until Jan 14! We will then unleash, I mean publish, this tale of Paul’s very unexpected journey!
RebirthHe was here. But where was "here"? Who was "he"?
He stared.
What was he looking at? A mass of flesh twisted. Half of it was peach colored, stained scarlet. And the other half?
A monster.
Pulsating currents of gelatinous substance reflected a thousand colors, glowing eerily. Scales and thorns of grey curled like a ribcage, like a shield around itself. Its alien neon colors rippled with the thrashing of its tentacles. The other half was that. It did not feel like it was part of the sallow peach creature. That beast had an evil sort of grin to it. It was an uninvited stranger burning the house in which it stole into. It was a parasite. It wa
A Man Reborn
"Go."
Somewhere, Lysanna clawed at the shards of mirror, using the last of her strength to send the message. The words came to Tal'shen as needling pain, piercing her mind. "Forget them," her mother said. "Go now and do as I've created you to do!"
Tal'shen felt her mother die. It did not matter. There was no feeling of attachment; only the drive to carry out her purpose. Growing still, her monstrous form filled the room. She shot two massive tentacles upwards, rending a large hole in the ceiling. Outside, she blinked in the fog. London, that was the name of this city, wasn't it? A good a place as any to begin.
Inside, Maya coug
All or NothingALL OR NOTHING
Odyssey II - Chapter 7
Paul's scream is soundless, without vibration, boundless without borders. Heard by no one, reverberating through the psychic realm, a cascade of destruction. Both sisters battling within his very blood, phages using his cells as a playground and a battlefield tearing apart his very flesh.
"He has spirit after all. Welcome to our realm, Paul You will never leave this place." Tal'Shen voice is cold, diffident, indifferent.
"He only does what he must to survive Tal'Shen, you would mock him for that."
"His will means nothing, Maya. Our Mother must be served. The only question is how."
Maya binds more of
Fighting to be freePaul floated around the room. There was barely enough left of him to be called a consciousness. He was the energy equivalent of throwing a handful of flour into the air with just enough floating around to allow thought. Not that it did him much good. He had lost almost every name he could think of.
There wasn't enough of him to see, but he could feel the fight that was going on between Tal'shen and Maya. They are wrapped up in each other, trying to tear the other apart, but there wasn't enough of Paul left to care. Even if there was, he was too enthralled in the movement of disembodiment to notice his old body being torn to pieces.
What was
Time And Time AgainHis scream resonated his soul which echoed into oblivion as he swirled amongst gleaming twisted rainbows of pain.
Then nothing. Nothing but the darkness and the empty idea of a constant faded scream, imperceptible by the void he now was.
Until, an eternity later, he regained a grain of the sand that was once his consciousness and was able to discern the sound again. Then the grain slowly became a beach as he regained his senses and connected to a watery dimension. The sound no longer a pain bearer but a whirling wave. Around him not darkness but the ocean floor, glittering like diamonds hidden in the shadows. His feet, returned, embraced by
Shifting PiecesLysanna was crumpled in a pathetic heap on the dirty floor with just enough strength to hold the two mirror shards in front of her shriveled face. She was about to die, at least this part of her. Her spawn, Tal'shen, was at the very moment being birthed into the realm of humans. There was only one thing left to do; she exhaled heavily onto the shards, fogging them over. As the moist remnants of Lysanna evaporated on the mirror, so did her husk of a body. She crossed over, through the mirror, until she found the rest of her; mother and child one at last.
The moment the symbiosis occurred, her strength, and drive, returned. Maya had been righ
Sea and Starshine"Well now...aren't you just full of surprises?" Maya's flippant remark could not disguise her irritation or apprehension at Paul's sudden transformation.
Paul seemed frozen in time as he stared at Maya - not knowing if she was addressing him or the creature within. It was then that Paul realized that Maya might never have been been speaking to him. In his own self-righteousness he never considered that whatever these things were they may place no more significance upon humans than humans would a slug or an amoeba.
His senses dull and feeble - smothered by exhaustion and the remnants of the Proxitol - Paul could feel Tal'Shen pressing into
To Conquer Land and SeaMaya gasped. She was too late. The transmutation had already begun.
At the sight of her, Paul's eyes rolled back and his mouth opened in a high-pitched wail. The tentacles at his shoulders suddenly burst forth, growing and lengthening to the floor. Thick, black and coated in a sheer, iridescent mucus, the new appendages continued to grow until Paul's body was lifted into the air. They continued to multiply, reaching around the walls and ceiling, engulfing the sterile white in writhing, dark madness.
Paul's body hung suspended and lifeless, dangling at the epicenter of his new form. His eyes, now shimmering with that same rainbow of co
Hit and Run"The bastard survived, huh?"
Before Paul or Tal'Shen had time to react, Maya's blade was at Paul's throat, pushing him to the back of the wall. Maya's face was inches away from Paul's, her teeth bared.
"This is what Lysanna, first born of Neiptiún, sends for battle? A tadpole?" The unearthly high-pitched laugh sent a chill down Paul's spine.
"Paul, This Is Our Chance, You Must Distract Her!" Tal'Shen's voice ringed in Paul's head, and he felt imbued with bravery...or blind stupidity.
"You bitch! A few minutes ago I thought you're a friend , now you' re the enemy? Just who or what are you?"
"What I am? Well, love, certainly more than a woman"
Horrified, Paul watched transfixed as Maya's hair morphed into slimy tentacles.
"Brace Yourself! Here She Comes!"
Hello, sister dear... Paul thought he yelled, "The hell are you trying to do to me?" But the words got tangled somewhere in his throat, and what came up instead was more of gargle-screech than anything else.
Maya knelt next to him in a jingle of weaponry. "Do shut up, love," she sighed as she slipped the needle into his forearm. Paul shut up. She sounded like Maya. But of course, if she had been possessed all along, he wouldn't necessarily know the difference. He struggled to focus his feverish thoughts through the fresh wave of Proxitol-induced nausea. She looked up in surprise at his silence, and added slightly apologetically, "Not that I'm not terrib
DeeperDeeper
Approaching Paul with calm, Maya, bent down onto one knee. A fresh syringe of Proxitol in her fist.
Recoiling, Paul brought his knee's into his chest. He shook his head and screamed, "No More!"
"Honey, this is a stronger dose. We have tested it, and it works. It will kill the parasite in you, and you will be free." Maya said.
She went to spread Paul's knees. Grabbed them and forced them apart. He fought back, pushing the opaque substance away from insertion.
"I said No More!" The childlike tentacles on his back raised, up, from behind him. Messes of pulsating colors lit the cell up. They began to shake and feel about. Feeling
Truth or ConsequencesMaya gasped in disgust and pulled out her knife.
Paul, still huddled before the toilet, felt his tentacles wrap themselves around his waist as if to protect him.
"Maya?" Paul asked. Maya didn't lower her knife.
"Jesus, Paul, what--"
"--I was hoping you'd know," Paul said. "I just woke up and...they were there."
Without taking her eyes off Paul, Maya moved over toward his bed and pulled off the thin blanket. She tossed it to him, and he covered himself with it.
"I don't know what this is," Maya said. "I've never seen anything like this before."
Paul stared into her eyes. Maya averted her gaze and lowered her knife slightly.
His dr
Slip of a Girl"Jesus," said Maya.
Before she could say anything more, the tentacles on Paul's back thrust out toward Maya. The right wrapped itself around Maya's arms before she could draw her knife. The left wrapped itself around her neck, winding up and across her mouth before she could scream out.
Paul hadn't willed any of this. The tentacles had moved by themselves.
Maya wriggled, trying to free herself from her bonds. Paul, firmly anchored to her by his tentacles, stood up and moved toward her.
He'd never noticed her smell before. Actually, he had always noticed a slightly sour smell, but he'd assumed it was just his own stale body. It hur
Odyssey: Chapter 5 SubmissionCHAPTER FIVE: ONE DAY AT THE EDGE OF TIME
Before her eyes could register that the man before her seemed to be exercising tentacles that sprang from his shoulder blades like a set of profane wings, a blue electricity like the phosphorescence of a firing flash bulb filled the room, taking his shape and bordering him and then quickly shrinking until you never would have known that anyone had been there at all.
Maya dropped the syringe she held, took two steps back and fell into a chair.
15 miles away, Colin Edmunds was dragging his comic collection into the living room, an archive made up of 5 longboxes of magazines that were neat
Truth or ConsequencesMaya gasped in disgust and pulled out her knife.
Paul, still huddled before the toilet, felt his tentacles wrap themselves around his waist as if to protect him.
"Maya?" Paul asked. Maya didn't lower her knife.
"Jesus, Paul, what--"
"--I was hoping you'd know," Paul said. "I just woke up and...they were there."
Without taking her eyes off Paul, Maya moved over toward his bed and pulled off the thin blanket. She tossed it to him, and he covered himself with it.
"I don't know what this is," Maya said. "I've never seen anything like this before."
Paul stared into her eyes. Maya averted her gaze and lowered her knife slightly.
His dr
Sea and Starshine"Well now...aren't you just full of surprises?" Maya's flippant remark could not disguise her irritation or apprehension at Paul's sudden transformation.
Paul seemed frozen in time as he stared at Maya - not knowing if she was addressing him or the creature within. It was then that Paul realized that Maya might never have been been speaking to him. In his own self-righteousness he never considered that whatever these things were they may place no more significance upon humans than humans would a slug or an amoeba.
His senses dull and feeble - smothered by exhaustion and the remnants of the Proxitol - Paul could feel Tal'Shen pressing into
Queen of the UnderwaterShe sneered the moment she saw him. “You’re really something, aren’t you. I was hoping to spare your life, Paul, but the time for being merciful is past. I assume it’s contacted you finally.” She pulled out a nasty looking knife.
Paul backed up slowly, stumbling over his unsure feet. The tentacles on his shoulder writhed as panic swept through his body.
She continued on, and took a step forward. “Your body is becoming like my sister’s. She can barely control her form, and it seems you can’t either. You’re going to become her mindless slave as soon as the rest of your body transforms. I can’t have her interfering with my plans for our realm any longer.”
The knife was suddenly against Paul’s throat, sharp and cold. A small trickle of his blood wound its way down his neck, no longer a pure red. It gleamed with a silver light, and he could feel Maya’s disgust. “I am going to be Queen of Fo-Uisce. Not her!!!
RevelationsPaul decided to rest a bit, it's been a long day. Drawing might help bring back some good memories, he felt that was really needed if he were going to survive this. As he sat there drawing, a thought suddenly came to mind.
"What was i thinking, why am i doing this."
Paul said out loud, as he looked upon his drawing.
"This is pointless."
He got up from the chair. Carrying the drawing with him, he walked towards the oven. "swosh." Without a hint of emotions, he threw the drawing into the fireplace. Then he continued straight into the bedroom leaped under the covers of his bed and closed his eyes. As he laid there, he felt a sensation going
Gone FishingMaya barely acknowledged the wriggling mass of tentacles on Paul's back as she stepped into the dingy light of the loo and threw a crumpled overcoat at him.
"Put this on," she commanded.
He shuddered. He was cold, so utterly cold--like no warmth in the world could ever reach him again. He tried to sit up but only managed to shift position, like a slug on the slick bathroom floor.
"I...I'm c-changing," he whispered through chattering teeth.
"No shit, love," she replied as she stood over him and lifted him roughly by his left wrist on to a sitting position. He dangled in her grip, shivering and twitching, gasping for air like a fish on a
Free and SafeIn one of Maya's hands was a syringe of Proxitol, in the other was the knife from before.
"It time for another shot. We've got to get you under control." she said, her voice now sounding as unsure as Paul's own when this had first began.
Pauls eyes, also beginning to change, were locked onto Maya's. They flared with emotions that he'd kept locked away in fear, rage among them. "And what if the Proxitol fails again?" he asked, his voiced resounding in the room as both a groan and a roar. His head cocked to look at the knife. "Will you use that?" he cackled, sending shudders down her spine. "In case I get out of control, was it? Well let me tell you something..."
He paused, raising his left arm and looking it over. It had grown the same iridescent scales that now moved to cover his body and sported the beginning of claws where his nails had once been. "I am NOT out of control. Rather, for the first time in a while, I am IN control."
Her hand raised the knife, and she rushed at him, but s
BattleMaya gasped when she saw the tentacles coming out of Paul's back. She never believed the symbiote would gestate to its full potential so quickly. Especially not with the proxitol she was fighting it with.
But here it was protruding from its host. Waving and wiggling in the air and begging her to engage.
And Paul wasn't asleep. He looked at her with his baby blues but when he blinked blackness covered his eyes. The spawn wasn't just growing in him. It was connecting with him.
It was growing because of him and he was helping it along.
"Paul," she said. "You're sick. You need to lie down."
"I don't think that's what's going to happen, Moya
The RoomAs I sit in the corner of this room this empty room I wonder. I ponder all that I have seen and not. These sentient beings within a body linger at my sanity. They drift me in and out of consciousness. The time bears on me like weights to a small animal. I wait for my time of rebellion and when I can strike. Please free me of these sentient beings they consume my thoughts and freedom.
There across the walls of this empty room is a blackness I know all too well. It is the darkness of my soul which is being ravaged as I think or shall I say speak? My mind is continuous in its thoughts continuing to go on and on. I can't stop the pr
MemoriamIt's been so long considering the absence of time.
To glitter incessantly in roots and origin of sparkle twinkle glint gleam shimmer glimmer
a wink a flash a glisten.
I could see the pillars of the nation
of the mega beta and insuperable sensation.
The hazy wooden and mote inhabited house had no chance to blind your hands
It's contact and content and they all kept breathing and sharing
you can't hide in a wooden house with no locks or unfinished windows.
If we're all matter
why does it matter?
I can sell the earth at my disposal because it is me as are you
but that's unorthodox and rude
but any earth rock or time at all.
You
You..You..
Saqlain Mallick
Every day I weak up
And start my daily chart,
I fell it's going away from me
I see it fall apart.
I do those things I never Loved to
I throw stone in bee hive,
I screw up things that I wanted to solve
Cause it just not in my life.
When I get on a bus
and the bus engine start,
I lose some touch with me
I lose touch with my heart.
When I see man are crazy
They don't Even Say Good Bye,
I blame me and I slap my head
And say why I just don't die.
BUT
Whenever I look at the birds
and the blue sky,
It come to me and give me space
Let my heart also fly.
When I hear the sound of wind
I see the tree and sun
What does anything mean, anyway.What did it mean?
A time machine would wipe it clean,
my cliche dream
this slate of me
the demon seed
(that's all I need)
...to be or not to be.
I choose to see
Not sit glued to the TV
mentally screaming "create me!"
It's a damned lemming machine
spitting out pre-fab humans for free.
No need to buy your mind, just see
I'm the only one calling it feed.
Got your eyes on their trough
better eat.
What's that in my brain, a flea?
From the TV
Damn, it's sucking away the clean
leaving dirt and disease
and a pseudo replica of me
sittin' in the corner eating cheese.
The lying bastard, please,
maybe I should bury this thing.
Wow
The invasion like no other is on, and we are witness with players whose unique perspectives and goals open up a world of possibilities. This invasion is viral, like other plagues of our times, but the virus is sentient and Paul battles to free his body not just of a deadly encroaching poison but possession by a growing evolving parasite of unknown origin. Does he presently bear within his own body his “son” – or his cannibalistic assassin? His only ally, a savage young woman named Maya who is ostensibly warring against the secret viral invasion, may be suffering possession, perhaps unknown even to herself. And the possessing intelligence may be the “sister” of the alien being whose spawn now grows inside Paul, a spawn she would for unknown reason seek to destroy (anonymously).
Chapter Four demands plotting and propulsion! Who are these sisters and where do they come from, with one launching a viral invasion against humanity and one, perhaps, fighting her? Is Maya possessed or still in control of her full faculties – just what these are and whom she works for not yet revealed to us. And what of Paul’s untenable mental and physical situation? He occupies that space from which mad seers, monsters and heroes are born (and sacrificed). The wildest elements have been whipped into our Storytellers’ cauldron. Now let’s crank our thinking brains to turbo-puree and cook up something palatable to the most discerning of connoisseurs of mystery and imagination.
Drawn Together"–a fit! A seizure! There must be some kind of police report!"
"Sir, any such information would be confidential. But there has been no report of anyone having a 'fit' or 'seizure' this morning. Now, please step aside!"
"No, no. I'm sorry." Paul backed away, suddenly aware that the queue behind him was becoming a small, angry crowd. A policeman stood nearby, radio held to his lips. Someone coughed, "Nutter," as he staggered away from the kiosk and up towards the London streets.
He scanned the crowd surging into the station, hoping to see the shock of red hair and the deep brown of the jacket. A hand gripped his left forearm.
Odyssey II Submission: Chapter OneCHAPTER ONE: WORLD'S END
God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December. – J.M. Barrie
The young redhaired woman was admiring herself in a full-length mirror. The vintage dress she was modeling reflected her fondness for the antique. She still laughed to think of how as a teenager she'd wandered from Victoria Station all the way down to the World's End area of the King's Road, somehow naively thinking that some glittering remnant of a 1960s storefront would magically appear.
A casual observer might have placed her in her late 20s or early 30s, with a sly smile that suggested a rare intelligence bubbling just below
ConvergencePaul hid behind the darkness of his eyelids summoning the courage and strength to open them. The pain in his head was clearing but he watched the room spin as the churning in his stomach made him retch.
"Good to see you awake."
The voice snapped Paul from his delirium and he pushed himself to sitting. A frightfully well-dressed man sat in a large leather chair near the foot of the bed.
"Who the fuck are you? Paul demanded.
"I'm Doctor Bailey." he said.
Paul fought back the urge to vomit as he scratched at the IV needle taped to his arm.
"Where am I? How long have I been here?"
"It's rather...complicated." Bailey replied. "Yo
Patient/ Doctor ConfidentialityPaul leaned against the bathroom wall as the room seemed to tilt. He tried to climb out of the shower, gripping frantically at the shower curtain but fell to the floor. Chyme bubbled up in the back of his throat as his body was racked with deep convulsions. A deep pain seared through his leg. He fought to keep his eyes focused on something. Anything.
There was a scream. And the outline of a black, patent-leather heel.
When Paul awoke he was in a brightly lit room, a tube running out of the crook in his arm. There was a faint muttering of voices, pattering feet, and a beeping noise. The pain in his leg had subsided to a dull ache. He glanced
Odyssey II Chapter 2He stopped in front of the hotel. The man could feel that his chosen was up there. Yes, that human who had so kindly lain him on his lap and allowed him to give him The Gift. He would spread it and be a perfect catalyst, this man.
The plan was proceeding perfectly. Everything would run smoothly, so long as the human survived this change that he was undergoing. Of course, he had no doubt the human would. As he'd gone through the seizure that came with passing on The Gift, the red-haired man had sensed the human's strength. He knew this would work.
However... If they decided to intervene...
No they were completely unaware.
Better get moving anyway, he thought.
Without hesitation, the red-headed man advanced towards the building, his heart beating rapidly as he crossed the threshold into the lobby. He could hear his chosen human's heart beating rapidly. His slight smile turned to a grin, and his eyes flashed a bright silver. Yes, this was it.
Chapter 3 - Mommy...The bed was a hard and uncomfortable addition to his nausea. The Proxitol sat in his system like the flu. He wished he had the flu. When he was a kid the flu meant undivided attention from his mother. She would sing and comfort him until he was all better.
His hand went to his hip above the warm rash. It seemed hard to believe he's harboring alien life, let alone sentient alien life. He rubbed it. Was this thing sentient?
"H...hello?" He said, pausing for an answer. "Can you hear me? Are you alive? Do you understand my words?" There was still no answer.
Maybe it was asleep, or better yet, whoever these people are got it wrong. This isn't a
Symbiote, if You Please
"Paul? This is your name?"
He looked at Maya first, but no, the voice couldn't have come from her. This one was much deeper, a man's he thought. He craned his neck, looking to put a body to this disembodied speaker.
"Paul, listen to me. Do not respond to me, or they may take action against us. If they knew I was speaking to you, they would not hesitate to kill us both on the spot."
Paul held his breath. It couldn't be. Was the voice coming… from inside his head?
The voice went on. "I understand your confusion but there isn't much time. These people, the ones who have captured us, they will not allow you to leave here. The
Free at LastLewis felt a lot better now that he'd released it. Having a symbiotic parasite growing inside of you is not the best feeling in the world.
It hadn't taken Maya long to locate him. She said she hadn't been off the trail of the creature inside him since she'd first encountered it three years ago. It was her job to fight off the invasion that was taking place right under our noses and inside our bodies.
It was a big circle, someone puked on him then he puked on someone else.
But the guy he puked on in the tube wouldn't be releasing the poison to anyone else. Maya had handpicked him while they were waiting for the train. 'See if you can get
Clive Barker has decided that proceeds from the book sales of Odyssey II will be donated to The Amanda Foundation and not PETA. The Terms for Submission for Odyssey II have been changed.
t seems there’s nothing quite as dear to the hearts of many of our deviants as their production of fan art, and at the same time, there is nothing so knotted with legal and ethical headaches. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but in the form of fan art it has also become one of the most frustratingly complicated. At some point, the sheer volume of fan art around a single property may become so large that the issue rises to another level of scrutiny by the creators of the original work.
With this dynamic in mind, we thought the following panel that Josh Wattles, our Advisor In Chief here at deviantART, and a mystery guest named Harold Smith, gave at Comic Con this year might be of immense help in understanding the ever evolving elements of fan art law.
Josh Wattles, $makepictures is an expert on copyright law bringing perspective and experience to the issue from multiple creative industries. From art, film, music, and books, Josh has been directly involved in or advised on copyright issues for the biggest properties in the world. He is also a copyright professor teaching courses at at Loyola, Southwestern and the University of Southern California law schools in Los Angeles.
And for all of you Star Trek Fans out there, Josh was the first lawyer at Paramount Pictures to work with Gene Roddenberry on creating policy around the massive quantities of fan fiction submitted to Gene and to the studio some of which ended up as Star Trek stories published by Simon and Shuster.
Should I worry about drawing or writing stories about characters from my favorite books, TV shows and movies?
$makepictures:Not if it is a private activity.
Does whether I sell them or not make a difference?
$makepictures:Yes. It’s not the best idea.
Can I copyright my own fan art which is based on already copyrighted material?
$makepictures:It depends on how much of the original work you used and if the original work can be completely removed from the second work. When you file for a copyright you must disclose all pre-existing content that does not belong to you and you must have authority to use it. That’s a complicated question with fan art.
Different authors, artists and companies seem to have different attitudes about fan art, with some encouraging it and others forbidding it. How can I find out which entities I might get in trouble with and who’s completely cool?
$makepictures:You can’t unless you contact the owners yourself and ask. There are some situations that are ok because the owner is encouraging fan art, such as in contests.
Is there a list or index?
$makepictures:No.
Am I responsible for other people circulating my fan art all over the Internet without my express approval or even my knowledge they’re doing it?
$makepictures:Technically, maybe.
Are there websites I should familiarize myself with that explain how to stay “safe” within the bounds of “legal” fan art creation?
How do you feel when creating a piece of fan art or fan fiction around your favorite character or story?
Is fan art a pathway in your evolution as an artist?
This year was especially important to me personally and was a milestone of sorts on
multiple levels and for deviantART as a whole. Many of the reasons why will become clear
over the next few months as announcements are made and new ideas are shared with everyone
in the community.
By the way the song in the first short teaser video is Recklessness by The Radical Dads.
While reviewing different components of our presence at Comic-Con during the post process I was especially taken
with the Fan Art Law panel that $makepictures gave on Friday of Comic Con. I learned quite a bit along with
the audience members in attendence and I now view the issue form a much deeper perspective. $makepictures and I
are collaborating on an article around the subject of fanART law to be published before the end of the year.
I was about to write a journal about my time at Comic-Con over the last five days...
This is much more important.
I would like to draw your attention to a wonderful and what will surely be a controversial contest that was posted to dA a few hours ago. This journal is meant to draw as much attention and dA love as possible to this contest.
wrote an article at Escher Girls [link] which inspired 
to post this contest [link]
Comic Con is an interesting place for the eternal “How a female should look” question to be so boldly reignited, being an environment friendly to cosplayers of all human, animal and other happily cavorting in so many different sizes and shapes.
This post a few hours ago got me thinking about the subject of the female form in pop culture that Jezebel took me to task for a few months ago, [link] rebuking my contention that some modern female models have found a means of self empowerment in the iconic representation of their bodies. I had to assure everybody that I hadn’t suffered a stroke and was well aware that we still live in a sexist culture at every level of measure.
So: an "overwheight" female superhero? Just another flavor of superhero – or a contradiction in terms? A superhero is an idealized human possessing superpowers of some sort. Is it possible in for "heavier" to be a part of anyone’s ideal human body? Well, yes. Indeed, how much muscles is too much muscles?
What exactly is the idealized human form? Who would the average man rather see staring back at him in the mirror: Arnold Schwarzenegger or Jon Hamm? Jason Statham or Jack Black? Which would most females prefer for a boyfriend? How many ridiculous articles are written about this subject in any given month? Anyone care to make a list of links to the most ridiculous?
You see, the idealized superhero (male) anatomy is one evoking Power far more than attractiveness. The female superhero anatomy is much trickier in that certainly power and lethality must be in evidence but also intense attractiveness to please the teen fanboy consumer.
So what’s the female reader to do? Accept that even in comic book butt-kicking, looks comes first, it still being a man’s world, and simply fantasize having Pam Anderson boobs along with a magic lasso? (And thus perpetuating “only hot chicks matter” as the “ideal” of our society?) Or as is the case lately, write their own fantastic super hero fiction and amass an audience of likeminded individuals just as hungry for something closer to reality.
Or fight back with the creation of a heavy female superheros for this contest? Brava!
My only caveat to all of this would be the term “fat.” Very few extremely obese people are genuinely healthy and therefore limited in their access to many human happinesses. While discrimination is unacceptable, I would warn against “championing” a condition causing type 2 diabetes. I’d prefer our female superhero to be more of the muscular thickness of The Hulk or The Thing. But, then again, the discrimination against non-Barbie females in almost all comic books and media in general is so completely overwhelming that maybe it’s time to fight fire with fire. I can’t wait to see what our dA artists come up with!
A Philosopher-Poet’s Final Communique From the Front Lines
Following a riot last month in the same location, and in the footsteps of dozens before him, another Foxconn worker in China has hurled himself off the roof of a building within the Foxconn campus where many of the devices that surround us everyday are manufactured. Ipods, Ipads, Xbox's, etc.
A musician and poet with a lot on his mind recorded a demo of a song shortly before he was gunned down at a relatively young age in front of his apartment. At the time the demo was recorded, the track was intended for a former band mate’s solo album. Ironically, the title of that band mate’s soon to be released collection of songs was “Stop And Smell the Roses.” The vilified widow of this musician, whom in life he loved deeply, posthumously completed the track and set it for release.
I find these lyrics eerily observant of the times we are living in. But that’s impossible, right?
It’s as if an artist’s voice, silenced by violent death, is still crying out for all our lives – even as tortured lives are sacrificed in suicide, the only protest song available to the voiceless.
Everybody's talking and no one says a word
Everybody's making love and no one really cares
There's nazis in the bathroom just below the stairs.
Always something happening and nothing going on
There's always something cooking and nothing in the pot
They're starving back in China so finish what you got.
Nobody told me there'd be days like these
Strange days indeed.
Everybody’s runnin yet no one makes a move
Everyone’s a winner and nothin’s left to lose
There's a little yellow idol to the north of Katmandu.
Everybody's flying and no one leaves the ground
Everybody's crying and no one makes a sound.
There's a place for us in movies you just gotta lay around.
Nobody told me there'd be days like these
Strange days indeed
most peculiar Mama.
Everybody's smoking and no one's getting high
Everybody's flying and they never touch the sky
There's UfO's over New York and I ain't too surprised.
Nobody told me there'd be days like these
Strange days indeed
most peculiar Mama.
The recently announced changes to the core mythos of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and the backlash
from fans over the ending to Mass Effect 3 have ignited an incredible discussion about the rapidly evolving
“collaborative” relationship between producers and consumers of videogames, movies, and similar “products.”
Now it’s exploded beyond the secure borders of top news publications, gaming and entertainment websites.
Looks like this long-bubbling cauldron of traditional ways and means, modern tech, web economics, core beliefs
and future shock has finally boiled over...
The gaming industry, and gaming media, is wrong to label upset consumers as ‘entitled’ or ignore the
investment of fans beyond simply spending their hard-earned cash.
They don't "owe" you anything. They make a product, and then you decide if you're going to pay for it. Since many of you think it's okay to download anything you want for free, even that second step isn't a guaranteed part of the process anymore. But it's a very simple transaction. They make. You consume. … Even so, you are not actually owed anything beyond whatever entertainment they produced for you in the first place.
It’s the question roiling the genre arts sparked by the release of Mass Effect 3 and speculation about changes Michael Bay may make in his reboot of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles:
In this article I contend that it’s not simply that the gaming and movie industries are mistaken to dismiss
disgruntled fans as nuisances deluded with a false sense of “entitlement” – I actually contend that commercial
storytelling across all media should increasingly incorporate community feedback as an essential element in a
project’s success. Fan influence might alter a project by 5% or 60%. It’s all in the balance of how fan feedback
is utilized in the process.
Let me make another important point. I’m always annoyed when the “they make – you consume” contenders try to
moot or obviate the whole discussion of producers and consumers by referring to movies, games, songs, etc. as
mere “entertainment”.
When I eat a cheeseburger at Umami, ride a rollercoaster, or laugh at a joke in a late nght talk-show host monologue,
I am partaking of an “entertainment”. These are those momentary pleasures in life that help you relax or give you a cheap
thrill – and they are instantly disposable.
But movies, videogames and music are different. We “invest” ourselves greatly in them. Ask any young fan who thrilled
to vicariously inhabiting one of the characters in the Hunger Games. Dick Clark once rightly said that music becomes the
“soundtrack of our lives.” Movies have always been (and now, too, videogames) the alternative “religions” or mythos that
we choose to identify with, and by which we often define and direct how we think about our lives, sometimes to an extent
exceeding actual religions or ideologies. What I’m saying is that the “psychic stakes” in this current dispute are a little
higher and more vital to our culture than it just being a “consumer complaint” situation.
There is no such thing as a singular fan reaction. Art is an interpretive experience. What you read in Moby Dick,
and what I read in Moby Dick, are different things. That is very much one of the joys of the arts. We don't have a singular
response. There's a quote which states, 'All art aspires to the condition of music,' and that's because music is infinitely
interpretable. Who would want to conform an artist's vision into something else?
No person other than the artist can make his or her art. Art is the manifestation of one man or woman's vision for a
better world. And, hopefully, that vision will inspire generations to create their own art. That's just the way I see it.
*CliveBarker, as a uniquely modern renaissance man, is especially qualified to comment on our topic. Only Stephen
King rivals his fame atop the charts of popular fantasy and horror fiction. As a novelist his books include "Abarat", "Imajica" and "Thief of Always". The Candyman and Hellraiser films were based on
his writings. But he is also a renowned visual artist, his paintings and drawings having hung in prestigious fine arts galleries.
He has been creatively involved in videogames, comic books, films and even costume design. He has produced films as diverse as
Gods and Monsters and The Midnight Meat Train. His perspective is that of an absolute original.
In my personal experience, listening to the feedback of a rabid fanbase can be a double-edged sword. Say your film or TV show is
based on preexisting material like a comic. On the one hand, you have to be careful not to adhere too closely to the source material.
What's right for one medium (a comicbook or videogame, say) may not necessarily be right for a film. And vice versa. Secondarily, when
thinking about a film or TV show, you're talking about million or even tens of millions of viewers (as opposed to, say, 40,000 comicbook
readers). You are making a mass-market adaptation, so the broader audience may or may not be amenable to certain conceits.
But the flip-side is, ignoring the early adopters or original fans can be to your peril. Often, film and TV executives are far removed
from their actual consumers. Many of them no longer see movies in a public theater. More still, have never set forth in a comicbook
store. To some executives, there is literally no differentiation between, say, Superman and some small-press indie comicbook. They
perceive all comicbooks to be the same. They may have no understanding of the source material's DNA. I can't tell you how many times I've
had an executive suggest a change that I knew, in my gut, would send the fans screaming. It's hard to explain that to an executive,
sometimes. It's truly a gut-check kind of thing.
David Goyer provides invaluable perspective, having mastered every facet of the genre arts narrative. He is a
screenwriter (Dark City, Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, Man of Steel) who has also written for TV, comic books and videogames. He is
a film director (Blade: Trinity, The Unborn) and producer (Blade II and Trinity, Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance). He is a novelist
(Heaven’s Shadow). Heaven’s War, the second book of his sci-fi trilogy, is unleashed this July; The Dark Knight Rises, the film sequel
from his original story, is in post-production; and his newest creation, Da Vinci’s Demons will debut soon on Starz.
Personally, I think the best storytelling is the product of a strong, single voice. I think it's important for creators to listen to
their fans and to make adjustments along the way, but I'm not so sure that a collaborative effort can create a singular vision. I think a
creator should not only write to please their audience but also to occasionally surprise them.
The makers of Mass Effect have, I imagine quite by accident, found themselves suspended over what they must find a frightening abyss, with
one foot planted in the old way of doing things, and the other foot toeing the unfamiliar terrain on the other side of the yawning chasm. They
encouraged fans to change the outcome of the game with their own decisions – but then largely ignored those decisions. Is this really a dispute
over creator’s rights vs. fan entitlement – or is it about how technology’s new tools are fundamentally changing commercial story narrative creation?
There have always been editors, censors, critics and all the other intruders necessarily a part of commercial publishing. And the “input” of public
readership has always factored in as well, with some artists cursing it and others embracing it. Rather than write “take-it-or-leave-it” novels,
complete at time of publication, Charles Dickens was famous for creating his serialized stories a chapter at a time, published weekly of monthly
in magazines or newspapers specifically so he could gauge readers’ response to each chapter before writing or revising the next. Great Expectations
is certainly the product of Dickens’s brilliant compassionate mind and expert writing talents – but it’s also to a tremendous extent a collaborative
creation with hundreds of “contributing authors”!
Having an open and sincere dialogue with fans has become an integral part of our business and our books. We value their passion
and input, so direct conduits like social media have helped us form a solid bond and bring us even closer in what is already a
tightly knit industry.
While I think there is a lot of merit to the idea of listening to the core audience of any given franchise. I think "caving" too
much to what fans want can lead to a watered-down product. Sometimes fans think they want something and as soon as they get it, the
franchise suddenly loses its dramatic tension. The bottom line, for me, is that sometimes there's a groundswell that is too loud to ignore.
If the majority of your fanbase is upset by something you've done or clamoring for a plot point that has been ignored, it would be
silly to dismiss it out of hand. But creators should also be wary of taking every single critique of their project too seriously.
Brendan Deneen
Co-President and Co-Publisher, Ardden Entertainment LLC
Comic Book Writer, Flash Gordon and Phoenix / Founder, Macmillan Films
Dickens never would have made the mistake of incorporating his readers’ ideas throughout a novel’s chapters and then written a final chapter
completely at odds with all those ideas. The Mass Effect 3 mistake was to encourage player “revisions” to the storyline – but only as a gimmick
rather than committing to this new reality as an integral part of the evolution of the narrative. Any “narrative” today, to be commercially viable,
will have to be “written” for the full spectrum of storytelling demanded by the evolution of web production and distribution. Stories must be full
spectrum narratives, able to fit themselves to tellings as videogames, comics and graphic novels, traditional novels, feature film and television
and Internet productions (live action or animated). And all these iterations of a core story will be subject to constant fan comment for revision
and extension. This is the brave new world that Dickens would have embraced as liberating rather than destructive of his authorship, the tool of
“reader” feedback having now become an instantaneous and continuous global information stream that will propel forward those who learn to navigate
it, and drown those who fear a “loss of control” in uncharted waters.
Hardly. The new technology driving instantaneous feedback and a greater demand for reader participation is simply forcing writers and visual
artist/creators in other art forms to face new realities and make tough decisions about how their artistic expression is going to be distributed to the planet.
Every time a painting or journal is posted on deviantART it has the potential to be experienced by a thousand times the number of people who had access
to anything written by Charles Dickens in his time. And be instantly commented upon by those people. Personal artistic expression and connection
has been liberated as never before. But the conundrum remains: No artist has to ever alter or revise an artwork, but then again, no artist has to
ever make a penny from his or her art. Writers, and all artists, must find the spot on that “art vs. pay” continuum where they are most comfortable
and functional. There can always be art for art’s sake, unintended for sale, but there is now a radical new way of becoming a successful and
world-popular commercial storyteller. And the new way heeds the feedback enabled by the new tech from word one.
The new paradigm of feedback-fed conception, production and distribution will take a while to establish itself on the still “Wild, Wild West”
Internet, but it will provide producers of content-driven stories with a real security in the commercial success of their properties – rather than
the increasing chaos they are currently falsely fearing. In the end “authorship” will always be bestowed upon the artist individual who most
commands respect as the one whose efforts most connect with us, the readers or viewers, regardless of any input from feedback or cuts by editors.
Writers need not fear a degradation of their work, nor their becoming mere typists transcribing the public’s wishes.
`yuumei, `alexiuss and =tanathe are creative, visual and narrative storytellers who, with well over a million
reads each for their stories on deviantART, enjoy an unprecedented relationship with their online audience. Their input is informed
by their status as artists already participating in storytelling’s new paradigm.
Writers have editors, but who says the editors can't be the audiences themselves? If I were writing a story mostly for my own
enjoyment, then I have no obligations to please the audience. However, if I am creating something with the main purpose of
marketing to the masses, then my work should reasonably meet their expectations, and the best way to do that would be to listen to their opinions.
I believe in altering endings, as long as the fanbase demands it, but not in a way that the original book/game/title is heavily
edited, but rather in the way in which the 2nd story of the title continues. For example, if the protagonist dies in the 1st book,
he can be somehow brought back to life if the fanbase really really wants to read a 2nd book about him. Without this alteration,
one of the greatest books I've read called 'The Golden Calf' would not exist. Personally I'm very heavily influenced by critics and
fans, so if my work is lacking in some regard, I update it or try to improve on it.
People were disappointed with ME3's ending, not just because the developers promised something completely different, but because
players didn't just watch/play this story – they were an integral part of it up to that point. Every player who spent their time
playing all of the three games created a strong bond between themselves and Commander Shepard to a degree that, in a way, they all
became Commander Shepard. We all want to believe that our actions can change our fate and the fate of the world.
Dave Elliott and Jordan Greenhall are acute observers of the deviantART community and its impact.
Being in the comics industry, you are acutely aware of two things: 1) that every corporate character has a history
with certain aspects of that history carved in stone, and 2) these characters have a strong, ardent following that, if
you are going to change them, it had better be good, or you'll know about it via Twitter, Facebook, and deviantART. I
will no doubt face this myself 10 times over with "The Weirding Willows," which merges timelines and histories of more
than a dozen beloved, classic characters. Whilst being as respectful of the characters and their histories as possible,
I won't let that stand in the way of what I want to do with the possibilities represented. I'm looking forward to the
feedback I expect from this one.
It is no stretch to recognize that the nature of a civilization is tightly linked with its form of media.
It must be understood that we are undergoing a media transformation quite as substantial as the invention of written
language. As a consequence, we should expect social media (or, better, what will come to be known as Transmedia) to reshape
our world in deeply profound ways. This movement from center to edge, from author to community, from broadcast to interactivity,
is a fundamental. We will be seeing it literally everywhere, including art. Especially art - as we come to discover that one
of the core threads of this transition is a (real) aestheticization of life.
As a visual artist, have you ever experienced being pressured to alter an artwork, either by a dealer to make it more “salable,” or by your watchers, critics, or friends?
As a writer, have you ever experienced being pressured to change an important part of a story, either at a prospective publisher’s or editor’s insistence, or simply because of a reader’s impassioned entreaties?
As a reader or viewer (of movies, TV shows, videogames, art, etc.) do you feel a sense of entitlement giving you the right to not only criticize but actually demand changes be made to a disappointing work?
Do you feel this entitlement is based in your great investment of both money and time in the work? Or do you feel this entitlement is based in your great investment of your head and heart in a particularly resonant storyline?
As a writer or visual artist, is the connection between you and your audience important enough for you to want to make a change pleasing to them?
As an online reader of Knite, Romantically Apocalyptic, or Off-White, is there an increased value or special connection you experience in being able to connect with the authors of your favorite works-in-progress and contribute your feedback?
Does the ability to offer comments, suggestions, criticisms, and encouragement bond you creatively to a property in a way eclipsing passive fandom?
Does Fan art and Fan Fiction created around an online story with author/reader interactivity become more of an integral part of the property than traditional offline fan art tributes?
If you played ME3, how did you feel about the ending? TMNT or TANT?
In the modern day, where interaction on a global level happens in seconds, involving the audience while a work is in progress seems to be the best way to ensure success, so long as the writer makes an effort to consider all of the feedback they get, in addition to considering what story they intend to tell themselves.
Feedback is a tool, sharpened by the instant communication and social networking options made available today; but like any tool, if wielded improperly it can deface a work of art as much as redefine it.
There will always be astounding stories that pay no regard to what an audience wants and are all the more richer for it. And I'm bloody thankful for that…I certainly care for the opinions of my readers, and I have kept them in the front of my mind during one story or another.
People who create to be consumed would care about pleasing the audience, people who are consumed by their creation quite frankly care only to please themselves.
There is certainly a delicate balance between considering input from outside sources and creating something how you, as a writer, imagine it to be. However, that fine line doesn't make the input any less meaningful.
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