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Written by Drew Edwards
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Tuesday, 05 December 2006 |
"Drew knew death goes hand in hand with life and unlike most of us, he didn't try to close one eye to it. Like his enduring creation, the undead hero Halloween Man, he faced the world with his skull-eye wide open and unblinking.
"Writers used to keep skulls on their writing desks. Memento mori, they were called, reminders of mortality. Keep writing. The clock is always ticking. Early tragedy showed Drew the truth of this and I think he always knew it. Rather than let it hold him back, it unleashed him. To paraphrase Jack LaLaine, he lived a Big Life and he was Worth It. RIP, Drew Edwards."
Howdy there folks. I'm Drew Edwards! If you're reading this, you probably know that I'm not actually dead. That's a real quote about my death though. So where did it come from? Well that's a story in and of itself. It comes from a column that's not going to see the light of day in it's original form (for various reasons). It what was going to be my Halloween column. Well as you know, the Scryptic site was down during October, so there's part of the puzzle right there. But why all the hubbub about my untimely demise? Well the truth is I was going to play a Halloween-time trick on you readers out there. I was going to "die" and that month's column was going to be people remembering me.
Later on I abandoned the idea of actually faking my death. It would be too much of a pain in the ass, as I'd have to hide out for weeks on end. So basically I settled on writing a dry parody of similar articles and that cat would be let out of the bag at the end. But as you can now see I didn't end up doing that either. And I bet (okay "hope") you're asking yourself "why?"
Me being me, I thought this was a REALLY funny thing to do. I was just giggling all day at the thought of it. I emailed several people to get quotes on my death. I wrote some fake ones. The whole thing was put together with love and care. Then I showed it to the two people I show all my work to first. My "test audience" if you well: my wife Jami and Halloween Man's esteemed editor Russell Hillman. Nether one of them thought it was very funny. Both basically asked the same questions in different ways. "Why would you want to write this?"
A fair question when asked by the two people who are more consistently subjected to my sense of humor than anyone. So the piece changed one more time. Why am I obsessed with death? My own death at that? Okay, I'll tell you (and probably work in some shameless plugging a long the way).
"It's always shocking to lose the young and gifted in such a senseless mannner. But, as Percy Shelley said in his epic poem Adonais: 'Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep, He hath awaken'd from the dream of life.'"
Park Cooper and Barb Lien-Cooper, authors of Half Dead
The obvious answer to the "why" lumped in front of me is that I am suicidal. This is incorrect, despite appearances, I love life. I've been blessed with a lovely wife, supportive friends, and a roof over my head. There's been hardships for sure, but I wear those scars as a badge of honor. While I've had suicidal thoughts in the past, I'd never treat them as a joke. Those were life trials that I'm beyond these days.
I'd argue my morbidity is a family trait. My father for many years has lived in fear of his own death, plagued by family members and friends that passed on to early. My older brother has wrestled with feeling truly suicidial in the past. This genetic quirk seems to have reared its head in a different with me. Over the years I've grown into being somewhat of a cruel clown. I laugh at what others find upsetting. I wrap death and depravity around me like a warm overcoat, finding comfort in the oddest of places.
This really came to a head after the death of my twin brother. The accident that killed him was also a point of rebirth for me. I dropped the punk rock style that had been a staple throughout my teenaged years and started dressing like the world's gaudiest funeral director. Even wearing my brother's old trench coat on a daily basis. My parents were concerned, but they shouldn't have been. I needed the change in apperance to get over what had happened to me. The clothing, adorned with skulls, coffins, and bats made me feel powerful and confident, not depressed.
"Obviously it's a shame to lose anyone from the community, but it's especially hard when we lose a young creator who really seemed to be hitting his stride.
"I got a chance to know Drew over the course of the past year, through his association with Scryptic, and I was always fascinated by his skewed point of view on the world. Silent Devil's Halloween Man collection should be a fitting tribute to his work."
This column was supposed to easy. Something light to help me ease back into writing Digging Own Grave. It turned into one of the hardest pieces I've ever put to paper.
Most writers will tell you that you should simply shrug off criticism and follow your dream. "Write for yourself alone" is a mantra I see repeated over and over again. I think this is a white lie that's repeated by the creative community. Something to make us feel tougher than we really are. It's also damaging if you actually do it in practice.
You do write for yourself, but you also write with a select few in mind. Call them your target audience, your muse, or whatever. In my case there's a few VERY real people that I write for. One of them is my wife. So her reaction to the abandoned version of this piece hit me very hard. My wife knows all the little oddities of my writing. She hated the column.
Jami is not a squeamish woman. (She owns her own coffin, for example.) A little morbidity isn't likely to square her away from something. But the piece turned off and again I was left with the question of "why would you write this?" So I started second guessing myself. Thinking on the past.
It's hard for me to remember when I first starting thinking about my own death. I remember planning my own funeral at the ripe old age of eight. Even down to the point where my friends and I starting crafting a small coffin out of ply wood.
The first time I recall seriously writing about it was in my teens. My twin brother and I were engaged in creating ghost stories, our own form of sibling rivalry. His story involved a young man trapped inside a wooden box, a sort of living ghost. My own was a little more self aware and certainly not as scary. It was about my own untimely demise and a subsequent haunting of our home. Mortality is easy to laugh at when you're a kid, it seems a long way off. My story was certainly not a classic, but it was a fun exercise.
Often people point to the death of my brother as the start of my obsession. It's an elegant and easy answer for those looking for one. But it really isn't the case. My brother was just as morbid as I am. If not a little more. My brother's death has been the cause of some the most intense moments in my life, I can safely say it didn't shape this part of me.
"Drew's death came as somewhat of a surprise to me. I have know him for a few years, and considered him a close and valued friend. Some folks you just expect to be around forever. Drew was one of those people. It's going to take a long time to accept that he's really gone.
"Drew had made it clear that if anything like this were to happen to him, he would want me to take over Halloween Man for him. I hope I can continue it in a way he would enjoy, as a tribute to his memory. It may change a little, but hopefully it will still be Drew's baby. Coming up next month are my first two stories: 'The Death of Lucy' and 'Solomon's New Look.'"
Russell Hillman, editor of Halloween Man
After over a months worth of soul searching and rewrites I don't have an answer for anyone. I don't know why I find death funny. I don't know why things other people find depressing make me giddy. At least I don't have any deeper answers than the ones I've already given.
I also don't know why I write the things I do. I don't think any writer does. As I've said before, you're called to it. And I don't think any writer has an answer for where the stories come from. They just form in your head. You can be inspired by the damnedest things.
What I do know is this column was a real challenge to write. One that I hope I met. It's certainly ate up enough of my life over the last few weeks. So now I present it to you, the autopsy of a still born column. The corpse hopefully reveals some of its secrets to you. At the very least I hope it reminds you to write every chance you get. The end is coming.
Drew Edwards isn't a corpse, he just smells like one. He's the writer/creator of the Halloween Man web comic series and the upcoming Halloween Man: Superdeformed from Silent Devil. He lives in McKinney, Texas with his widow Jami.
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