From today's Pop Candy blog (not reading Whitney? We love her!)
Capes and castaways collide
Do you like Lost? Do you like comics? I just got a scoop from DC Comics that the introduction for Brad Meltzer's forthcoming Justice League of America hardcover will be written by Lost executive producer Damon Lindelof. Yay!
"I met Damon at the super-geek-happy-clubhouse (first rule of the super-geek-happy-clubhouse -- there is no super-geek-happy-clubhouse)," Meltzer told me via e-mail yesterday. "Damon is one of the kindest, nicest people around, so I just begged and cried and held tight to his ankle until he said yes.
"Plus, every time he's on TV, I get a hundred e-mails telling me they just saw me on television (bald and in the comic industry, like that's hard to do). And what he wrote about JLA is as insightful and cool as Locke getting out of that wheelchair."
The book comes out June 7. Meltzer is also the author of the best-selling novel The Book of Fate, which just came out in paperback this week. Check 'em out.
PS here is a reprint of the "Celebrity Blog Tour" Q&A with Damon from The Book Of Fate release last year.
Damon Lindelof: When you were a little kid, what was your favorite thing to do in gym class? I ask this because most of us spazoids were terrible at the jock-attracting activities like basketball, football, baseball... well, ANYTHING with a ball really... but yet elementary school gym offered a wider curriculum of activities. So give it UP!
Brad Meltzer: Red Rover, Red Rover, we call Damon right over. No ball, no brawn, no athletics involved -- and the first little mind game they let us play. I wasn't strong or fast, but man, did the meatheads get pissed if they didn't get their name called. I took the smallest amount of pathetic joy in that.
Lindelof: You have a time machine. You can go back to ANY time in your own life and tell yourself to do something differently. You may NOT place any bets or give stock tips. To what point in your life do you travel and what do you tell yourself? Paradoxes are welcomed.
Meltzer: Brooklyn, New York, July 5, 1984. The day my family left Brooklyn to move to Florida. I was fourteen, my mom and dad had no jobs, no place to live, and only $1,200 to their name. They packed me and my sister in our crappy Dodge and began driving to Florida. So there, yes, it would've been nice to have someone whisper in my ear that things would be okay. But I was a cynic at fourteen and would've thought the current Me was a bald, uncool white dude, so I would've screamed, "Stranger!" and run away, thinking, "What a turd." Nice going, Me--brilliant at fourteen. Besides, all that fear and anxiety is the core of everything in my belly, so I'm glad I'd think I was a knob. Go, young cool Me!
Lindelof: Would you rather be referred to as a comic-book writer or a novelist in your obituary. You can only choose one.
Meltzer: This question haunts me. Daily. It cuts to the heart of all my fears and self-focused fantasies. Novelist is easily more "impressive" to the large group. It impresses my mom. It lets her brag to her friends. But as a matter of pride, I’m truly more in my own skin in the world of comics. I didn't read novels growing up. I don't read that many novels now. But comics? I read comics. I know them. I understand them. And they let me be part of the coolest, geekiest, saddest, happiest, smartest secret-club around. Comics are like high school sweetheart, and novels are like the sexy sultry blonde who would never date you when you were nothing, but shows up now once you've found a sliver of success. But even with all that ridiculous self-confession -- I still have to say "novelist" for my obituary. Not because it's cooler or more prestigious or more impressive to my mom. I say it because, when I write a novel, it's mine. The creation is mine. The creative process is mine. And to build that entire house with nothing but your own hands...to be the sole architect from idea to end...and to not need a large conglomerate's property to do it...that's something to be.
And Damon, I owe you a good two bills for that therapy session.
Lindelof: Earth has been ravaged by a hundred year war as humanity is forced below the earth, cowering in underground caverns until a victor is declared between the two mighty combatants. Robots vs. Zombies. Who wins that war?
Meltzer: Zombies, easy. Please, it's the first rule of Zombies: Nothing stops Zombies. Robots may make it through a sequel or two. The cybernetic forearm may survive until they can afford morphing effects. But lava eventually stops robots. Keanu stops Robots. Nothing stops Zombies. (Tomorrow I'm changing my answer. Robots can always create more of themselves).
Lindelof: What is the WORST ending of the BEST story?
Meltzer: I hate giving this answer--I actually regret it as I say the words: The easy answer is The Phantom Menace (just a shame), but the real answer has to be the last two Matrix movies. I remember exactly where I sat in the theater when I saw Star Wars at age 7. I remember where I sat when I saw the first Superman movie. And it never happened again until The Matrix. It was like that scene in Kavalier & Clay where they see Citizen Kane and they feel like the whole wide world just opened and expanded. That's how I felt with The Matrix. I came out of there and just felt the whole world of fantasy and geekdom and film and story all change at once. I was thrilled, inspired -- thankful even -- just to witness it. But the sequels...all the emotion was gone.