Star Trek: Course Corrections, Part 5 (of 10)

Continuing my unpublished Star Trek prose short story. Part 1 can be found here parts 2 & 3 can be found here and part 4 here.

STAR TREK: COURSE CORRECTIONS, PART 5

            A doctor should never diagnose himself, McCoy thought recognizing all the signs of depression setting in as he wandered the darkened halls the Enterprise.  Not only was Ensign Perez's fate uncertain and new fleet commander who would probably push Jim into a desk job taking command, but now one of Starfleet's best and brightest was wanting to paint a bullseye on his back for the immediate future.  He desperately wanted to go back to Scotty's office and prescribe himself the remainder of his brandy but that would only get him through the night. The problem would still be there when the bottle was dry. Perhaps it wasn't really about Perez, Nogura, Jim or Chekov. Maybe it was about his own future. Maybe he was getting all fired up because he really hadn't given his own future any thought. Jim is doing what very few Starfleet captains have done: Bring his ship and crew home intact. The Exeter was still in service but just a few years ago it lost all hands but one: Captain Ronald Tracey. Tracey was left, in McCoy's professional opinion, as nutty as a fruit cake. The Intrepid and the Defiant were both lost with all hands as was the Excalibur. The Constellation was sacrificed after Commodore Matthew Decker lost his entire crew leaving him with only a scant few more marbles than Ron Tracey. Damnit, McCoy thought, maybe Jim does deserve a promotion and to be kicked upstairs. At least someone at command wouldn't be a total jackass. He considered that Chekov might even have a point about security. Sure, the danger is high but so is the reward. Even Jim first caught the eye of the brass working a security detail as a new fledged cadet at Axanar. Perhaps he was underestimating the young man. Instead if ending up fodder for the unknown he could end up with a chest full of ribbons and a quick path to the center seat.

            So what the hell is really eating me? McCoy wondered. What did I expect? He knew what he wanted. He wanted to get home, spend some time on Terra Firma while the Enterprise was refit by Scotty, then ship back out with Jim. Hopefully Christine, M'Benga, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, Giotto as well as some of the others like Kyle, DeSalle, Riley, Brent, Kelowitz, Arex, M'Ress and Hadley would sign on again. Hell, maybe that pointy eared hobgoblin would decide to stay on with Jim, he thought, they worked well together, so it would only be logical.

            That was what he wanted.

            Maybe you can get yourself a pony, too, McCoy admonished himself. That kind of thinking is just not realistic. The reality is that Jim deserved a promotion and Spock was the best first officer in the fleet and deserved a command of his own. Both Sulu and Uhura would be in line for promotions to Lieutenant Commander and thus would have the rank to be first officers to some lucky captain. Face it, Leonard, he thought, when you ran away from Earth, you found a family on the Enterprise and now you're being a selfish old bull because you don't want it broken up.

            Reality versus fantasy. Maybe that's why I feel so damn cranky all the time, McCoy wondered. My expectations are too far from reality. His mind briefly flitted to the last days of his marriage and he quickly shoved it back down into the emotional black box where he usually kept it. Don't go there Leonard, he thought to himself, you better go be around some people so you don't go down that particular rabbit hole again.

Star Trek: Course Corrections, Part 4 (of 10)

Continuing my unpublished Star Trek prose short story. Part 1 can be found here and parts 2 & 3 can be found here.
 

STAR TREK: COURSE CORRECTIONS, PART 4

            McCoy was halfway to Chekov's quarters when he realized he left his brandy and glasses in Scotty's office. Truth be told, Scotty would probably bring it by sickbay, since he was more of a scotch man, so that was not the issue. The problem, McCoy realized, was that he was now missing his excuse for stopping by the young Ensign's living space. Liquor made a great social lubricant. Let's have a drink, was a great way to get a foot in the door. Once there, it loosened up the patient and opened the flood gates to the problem. Sure it was sneaky, but it worked on most of the crew. Only on the recovering alcoholics, tee-totalers and a certain stubborn Vulcan were his methods lost.  

            McCoy rang the chime and the door slid away to reveal Chekov's roommate Ensign Drake. Drake was an older officer in spite of his junior rank. Starfleet was not Drake's first career. He started out in private security and was in this thirties before he went to the Academy. Roommates were carefully chosen by Starfleet analysts. They probably figured Drake's age and security experience would balance out with Chekov's youth and abundance of education in the sciences and engineering.

            "Hey, Ensign, I was in the neighborhood and thought I would check in on Pavel," McCoy said.

            "Sure Doc, I'll get out of your way so you all can chat," Drake replied.

            As he passed he whispered, "Maybe you'll have better luck than me."

            Although McCoy didn't know him well, he did know him well enough to get a sense that Drake was decent man. They had only been on a few landing parties together, and beside his quarterly check-ups, the only other time they had spent any time together was when Drake did a brief stint in Sickbay to brush up on emergency triage. The memory made McCoy wince inwardly. That was around the time Doctor Sevrin's cult took control of the Enterprise, McCoy thought. Boy, would I like to forget that debacle.

            "Something wrong, Doctor McCoy?"

            The young ensign's voice broke McCoy's reverie.

            "Everything is fine Pavel," McCoy said trying to sound casual.

            "How is Ensign Perez?"

            "Stable. Christine and Doctor M'Benga are keeping a close eye on him," McCoy said.

            The ensign seemed to relax a little. McCoy looked around. The double quarters were painfully cramped. He silently vowed never to complain about the size of his living area ever again. He knew some of the other ensigns like Garrovick and Lemli opted out of the claustrophobic housing by participating in "hot cotting." They got a single living area like the senior officers but shared it with another. Their schedules were always opposite so one would be on duty while their roommate slept. I'd rather be cramped than share my bed, McCoy thought. It was another reason to hate the military mentality. Give the crew room for a bowling alley and a theater but some of the bottom rung officer's don't even get their own bed.

            "Thank God I'm a doctor and not a soldier," McCoy said.

            Chekov screwed up his face with confusion.

            "Vhat?"

            "I'm sorry, Chekov, I don't make many house calls and sometimes I forget how cramped it can be for junior officers," McCoy said.

            "You get used to it," Chekov shrugged.

            Chekov eyed the doctor and McCoy decided truth would be the best remedy for the situation.

            "I'm not going to lie to Pavel. I just spoke with Commander Scott, and he feels you are unnecessarily blaming yourself for what happened to Takahashi and Perez," McCoy said.

            Chekov's cheeks flushed slightly and he turned away. McCoy wanted spin to him around and shake him. He wanted to scream the multitude of ways it was not the young ensign's fault. Instead, he waited. He has to want to talk, he thought. I can't force it out of him.

            Chekov turned back around slowly.

            "I blame myself because it vas my fault."

            "Now, Pavel..." McCoy began but was silenced by the ensign holding out his hand.

            Chekov took a breath, and it all seemed to tumble from him at once.

            "I vas distracted. I vas looking at my tri-corder readings vhen the Klingons beamed aboard. I vas trying to get some additional readings that might help Meester Scott. I vas caught completely unavares. The Klingons started firing and Takahashi jumped in front the disrupter blast meant for me. She should have been looking after Keptin Kirk. Instead she died because I vas too concerned with impressing my superiors by doing something I vas not asked to do."

            Chekov took a breath and continued before McCoy could say anything.

            "Perez is my fault too. I realized the Vendresi used a particular frequency for their defensive systems. I relayed the information to Meester Scott while the keptin and Perez vere trying to hold off the Klingons."

            "And..." McCoy prompted.

            "It vorked. But the Vendresi defensive measures included a suppression system that dampens energy veapons," Chekov explained.

            "Your phasers and the Klingon disrupters stopped working," McCoy confirmed.

            "Exactly, then the Klingons pulled out bladed veapons. It's the tventy third century, who carries a sword when you have varp drive and energy veapons?"

            "And one of the Klingons stabbed Perez," McCoy said, filling in the blank.

            "They didn't just stab him in battle; he was protecting me. I vas not fighting because I was trying to change the frequency with my tri-corder so we could use our phasers."

            McCoy let the confession hang there for a moment then decided on some tough love.

            "In other words they did their jobs, and now you feel bad."

            Chekov's jaw dropped.

            "Look son, I'm not going to sugar coat it," McCoy began, "Exploring space is a dangerous job. You know it. I know it. Takahashi and Perez knew it, because, let's face it, no one in the fleet knows it better than the brave men and women who serve in security. They know at any minute they will have to lay down their life for the captain, or me or some other science or engineering specialist. You are one of the latter. When Spock recommended you be assigned to the bridge so he could work with you in the sciences, Scotty threw a fit. He said you were one of the most promising engineers to come out of the academy. Spock said, and mind you this is Spock, very few live up to his expectations. Spock said you were one of  the most promising scientists to come out of the academy. Captain Kirk granted Spock's request but modified it. He made you our primary navigator. We hadn't had a regular navigator since before I came on board and from what I understand Commander Mitchell was one of the captain's best friends. He put you there not because Scotty saw you as a potential engineer or Spock saw you as a scientist. He put you there because he saw you as a future Starfleet captain. You are a Starfleet asset. All the command staff see it, and I suspect Takahashi and Perez saw it as well, that's why they did their job to do what was needed for the good of Starfleet."

            Chekov's eyes were red. He was on the verge of tears.

            "I hope they are not disappointed with me when I let them know."

            "Let them know what, Ensign? You're not going to do anything foolish like leave Starfleet are you Pavel?"

            "No, Doctor," Chekov replied, "I have decided that in true navigator fashion, I am going to make a course correction in my Starfleet career."

            "A coarse correction?" McCoy repeated, not liking the implications.

            "Aye, if you recall I took some time off from my bridge duties earlier this year to do some security vork," Chekov said.

            "Yea, I remember, the captain thought it would continue to make you a well rounded officer, and give Mr. Arex more time at navigation." McCoy replied, unsure where the young officer was taking things.

            "When we get back to Earth, I am going to go back to the Academy and pick-up some classes in security," Chekov said.

            "Security work is the most dangerous in the fleet, and a waste of your talent," McCoy said.

            "I disagree, I feel all my other vork vould make me a superior security and tactical officer," Chekov said.

            "Pavel, don't let one incident derail your career," McCoy said.

            "Did you have a moment, vhen you realized you wanted to be a doctor?"

            "Well, yes but that was different..."

            "How?"

            "Well, it just was. You saw something horrific. It's bound to spin you around."

            "I realized, that I wanted to be the one protecting Takahashi, Perez and the Keptin. It was a moment of clarity. I realized more than science or engineering or command, I wanted to protect my fellow crewman."

            McCoy started to protest but saw the look in the younger man's eyes and relented.

            "Just promise me one thing, Pavel," McCoy asked, "You have several months before we get back to Earth. Think long and hard before you commit to anything."

            "I have made up my mind, Doctor but I promise, I will spend considerable time thinking about it before we get home."

            McCoy was too tired to fight Chekov, so he promised himself he would revisit the issue in a few weeks, and hope that a cooler head would prevail.

Star Trek: Course Corrections, Parts 2 & 3 (of 10)

Continuing my unpublished Star Trek short story and  below are parts two and three. If you haven't read the first part you can read it here: Part 1  Unfortunately still haven't figured out how to fix the spacing issues for that segment.

STAR TREK: COURSE CORRECTIONS, PART 2

            McCoy worried about his friend as he wandered the simulated night of the Enterprise corridors.  He knew Jim was always harder on himself than he needed to be. That personality quirk helped him rise to his current position, but it put way too much stress on him. Damnit, being a ship captain is stressful enough, why in the world would someone like Jim want to pile on with unnecessary guilt, he wondered. Because he's a good man, came a counterpoint from somewhere in the back of his brain. Over the last half decade, McCoy figured he had been on perhaps eighty percent of the landing parties. Spock had probably been on even more, and could probably calculate to the last decimal the percentage when neither he nor McCoy had accompanied the captain. That was the mistake, McCoy thought, between the two of us Spock would give him logical options and I would give him the correct ones, and he would make his decisions and known they were right. He wouldn't be torturing himself like this if one or both of us had been with him this time. He paused at the irony. Now he was doing it. Blaming himself for the fact that space exploration was a dangerous job.

            He found himself at Scotty's cabin and rang the chime. There was no answer. He continued on down to Main Engineering. Scotty was never really off duty. Sure, he was only on the schedule for a standard eight hour shift but, if his belly was full and his technical journals read, he always found a reason to go to Engineering. It was a struggle in the early days of McCoy's assignment to the Enterprise to get the Scotsman to take a break. It was only when McCoy realized that Scotty so loved his job and so loved tweaking the machine they called home, that McCoy gave up. He worried about Scotty being a workaholic who would burn himself out, but then when he saw how the egineer relished shore leave, he realized the concerns were unfounded. Scotty worked hard and played hard and in between he tinkered to relax. McCoy mistakenly mistook tinkering with work.

            When McCoy entered Main Engineering, he heard Montgomery Scott before he saw him.

            "Blast it! That shoulda worked."

            McCoy looked around and saw a skinny young Ensign kneeling in front of an open panel.

            "But sir, efficiency ratings are well above accepted parameters."

            Scotty worked himself out of the mechanical hole.

            "Efficiency ratings," Scotty repeated as if something sour had found its way into his mouth. "Feh, those ratings are established by planet bound desk jockeys. They do nae have to give the captain all she's got when he needs it. We do."

            The ensign blanched as Scotty rose to his feet and continued, "Ye dinae need worry about their parameters, ye need to worry about my parameters, understand lad?

            With a gulp, the ensign nodded. McCoy decided he would rescue the kid.

            "Scotty," he called out, his voice echoing in the large chamber, "care to take a break for a nip of the true?"

            Scotty dismissed the junior officer through pursed lips that underscored his displeasure before turning to the doctor and allowing a smile to split his face at the sight of the curved bottle and duo of glasses.

            "Aye, that sounds like just the prescription this engineer needs," Scotty said, "Let's go into my office."

STAR TREK: COURSE CORRECTIONS, PART 3

            Scotty escorted the doctor into his private office, and noticed the doctor looking around.

            "You know, I don't think I have ever been in here."  McCoy said.

            "Aye, I dinae use it much. It's more of a storage place for, well, all o' this," Scotty said with a wave of his arm.

            Scott was amused as McCoy took in the piles of papers and blueprints.

            "Is all this the Enterprise?" McCoy asked.

            "Aye."

            "Scotty, you, ah, you do realize it's all available on the ship's computer?"

            "Aye, but what if the computer is down and ah need the information?"

            Without missing a beat. McCoy scrunched up his face. "Never mind, I don't want to think about it," he said has he took a seat in the chair in front of Scotty's desk.

            "We'd be up the proverbial creek and ah good engineer always needs ah paddle."

            "Here's my paddle," McCoy said hefting the brandy bottle.

            "What creek are ye up doctor, did Ensign Perez not pull through?"

            "We're at a wait and see point. Dr. M'Benga is keeping an eye on him, if he makes it through the night..."

            "I'm sure ye did all ye could, doctor," Scotty said pulling a bottle of scotch and a glass more than twice the size of McCoy's from beneath his desk.

            Scotty filled it almost to the brim and held it high.

            "Ta makin' it though the night."

            Scotty emptied the glass in three gulps and took a seat as McCoy replied in kind.

            "How's the captain doin'?"

            "I don't want to speak out of turn. I'll just say the usual and leave it at that," McCoy said as he shifted uncomfortably, probably worried about stepping over a confidentiality line.

            Scotty knew Captain Kirk always fretted about his crew but there were so many random encounters that no amount of planning could account for. That's why Scotty loved machines, the math was simple. If X doesn't work then do Y to fix it. The idea of the captain blaming himself for the actions of a bloody Klingon caused a flash of anger.

            "Bloody hell, I hope ye nipped that in the bud. There was not a bloody thing he could do."

            "You saw it?"

            "No. I was trying to get the Vendresi defense system up with Lieutenant Washburn. But I heard when the Klingons beamed aboard they just started firing. Poor Ensign Takahashi was vaporized before anyone could react. The captain, Chekov, and Perez were lucky they made it."

            "How is Chekov?" McCoy asked, realizing he had yet to check in on the young Ensign.

            "Och, he's just as bad as the captain. Blames himself."

            "Figures, I don't know who has corrupted the boy more, Jim or Spock."

            "Today, ah'd say it was the captain," Scotty said as he poured another drink.

            "I guess I should stop by and check on him. Self blame is no doubt a Russian invention," McCoy said trying, and failing, to get his southern mouth to emulate the young navigator's thick accent.

            "Ye might want to talk to Uhura as well," Scotty said. "Sub-space chatter is that a new head o' Starfleet was appointed. It may effect assignments when we get home."

            That stopped McCoy cold in his tracks. Scotty figured it would.

            "Who?"

            "Nogura."

            "Awe, hell," McCoy said.

            McCoy's reaction was what Scotty suspected it would be. Nogura was one of the few thoughtful Admirals in Scotty's opinion. Most didn't know their elbow from a anti-matter pod. However, Nogura was big on "rewarding" success. So far, both Morrow and Cartwright had been promoted to Admiral when they got back to Earth after their missions. Both were heavily advocated by Nogura and now that he was in charge of the fleet he would push Captain Kirk hard to take an Admiral's position. Most assumed he would be offered another deep space mission after getting the Enterprise a proper refit and most of the crew, Scotty included, wanted to sign on again under the captain. But now, one could only assume Nogura would want the captain at Starfleet Command. Now that he was the top dog, Nogura would get what he wanted by hook or by crook.

            "If Nogura catches Jim at the wrong time..."

            "Aye, the Enterprise would lose the best captain in the fleet."

            Scotty could see the wheels turning behind McCoy's eyes and tried to console him.

            "We're still ah few months from home, the captain will nae make a rash decision, there is still time to sway him, if'n we think he's about to make a poor decision"

            "I'll talk to Chekov, then see what Uhura has heard," McCoy said as he paused at the door, "However, if Jim takes a desk job, I swear, I'll leave the fleet."

            Scotty filled his glass again and hoisted it in the air.

            "Then good luck to ya, Doctor McCoy cause I would hate to lose the best captain and the best doctor in the fleet."

Star Trek: Course Corrections, Part 1 (of 10)

        So I worked up a short story submission recently for the Star Trek: Strange New Worlds anthology. It didn't get selected and, to tell the truth, I'm not surprised.  When I started, I had a story planned about post traumatic stress disorder and took a look at the original series crew in the aftermath of a horrifying battle, while flashing back to the action beats that involved first contact with an alien race and an attack by Klingons. I would gradually dish out the events but, as I got into it, I felt the action beats were too familiar and the PTSD was just a little too cloying and disingenuous. At that point, I realized the story I REALLY wanted to tell was not about "out there" but an internal one that was completely character driven.  I wanted to see a character make a life altering decision and how he comes to that decision over the course of an evening. It's not the action story you might get when you pick up their book (which I'm sure will be very good) but I think it's a great character piece. If you really love the classic characters (particularly McCoy) and would like to spend some time just hanging out with them, this little tale might be for you.  I made a few changes (to include continuity from the animated series which was not allowed in the original submission) and I will release it in ten parts/eight entries. For some reason the conversion keeps putting extra spaces in the published version that are not visible in the draft version I hope I can eventually figure out how to fix it. Until then, I hope you enjoy the story.

STAR TREK: COURSE CORRECTIONS, PART 1

            Jim Kirk opened his mouth to speak, then paused. He slowly closed his mouth and worked his chin back and forth in frustration. Finally, he mercifully ended the recording by giving a button below the monitor an angry jab with his thumb. With a heavy sigh, he sank back into the chair contemplating his next avenue of attack. For a brief moment the smiling face on the monitor seemed to mock him. The door to his cabin chimed and, for a moment, a flash of irritation shot through his body. It quickly subsided when he realized he really didn't mind a distraction from his current duty.

            "Come."

            The door parted with a soft shush of air to reveal Leonard McCoy. The doctor looked tired and took long slow strides across the captain's quarters and dropped into the seat on the other side of the desk. As he sank back, he deposited a curved bottle of brandy and two small gasses on the work surface between them.

            "I know that look," Jim said. "Is he..."

            "Alive, for now," McCoy said. "I've done all I can. If he makes it though the night..."

            McCoy allowed his thought to trail off before snatching the bottle back up and pouring two fingers worth of liquid into each glass. Without pause, in what appeared to be a single motion, McCoy had returned the bottle to the desktop, hefted the small glass, drained it's contents and was already pouring a refill. Jim would have been impressed with the surgeon's dexterity, if he hadn't seen his Chief Medical Officer's "disappearing" act multiple times of the last four and three quarter years.

            Jim picked up his glass and contemplated it.

            "Damnit, Jim," the doctor said slowly, "I'm getting tired of having to remind you that everyone on this ship volunteered for duty knowing the risks."

            "I'm responsible..."

            "Yea, yea, yea, you're responsible for your crew, but this is a dangerous job. I've been on enough landing parties to know, if anyone dies or gets injured it's usually in spite of your efforts, never because of them."

            "You weren't there, Bones."

            "I wish I were, for your sake, but I don't have to be there to know you did all you could."

            Jim stood up and carefully poured his drink back into the bottle.

            "I have paper work." Jim said, "I need a clear head."

            McCoy's eyebrows knitted in confusion.

            "The computer said you uploaded your log and incident report to Starfleet command over an hour ago."

            "I have," Jim paused briefly searching for the right words before continuing, "a more important report to send."

            McCoy, clearly still not understanding, moved to the corner of the desk and gathered the bottle and glasses. Jim noticed him sneaking a glance at the monitor. A look of understanding then washed over the older man's face.

            "I, ah, guess, I'll leave you to it then, Jim," McCoy said in a softer tone as he walked toward the cabin exit.

            The door swished open and McCoy paused and looked at the captain.

            "If you want to talk later," McCoy hefted the bottle slightly and put on a half smile, "The bar is always open."

            Jim, for the first time in two days, felt the corner of his mouth quirk up briefly.

            "Doctor's orders?"

            "Friend's request. Doctor's orders would require I waste the good stuff on you," McCoy said has he exited to the corridor, "Can't have that, can we?"

            With that the door slid shut, leaving him trapped with the absolute worst duty suffered by a starship captain. Jim thumbed the recording back to life.

            "Mister Takahashi, it is my unfortunate duty to inform you that your daughter gave her life in service of the Starfleet..."

A Prisoner to Recommended Reading and An End to Adventure

The Prisoner star Patric McGoohan from the opening credits.

First, a cheap but sincere plug for a buddy:
Fans of the cult television series The Prisoner, starring Patrick McGoohan, should check out an article by my old friend, Tom Mayer. Tom recently wrote the liner notes book that came out with the Blu-Ray of McGoohan's sole feature film directorial effort, Catch My Soul. You can read his piece at the Unmutual website here. The site is a fantastic resource for fans of the show and its multi-talented star. Tom got me into the show back in college when we were living in the same dorm and it was running on (then named) The Sci-Fi Channel.

A sad quick update:
As many of my twitter followers already know, the Adventures in Pulp website, for which I created and wrote five stories, is no more. You can still purchase digital downloads of my four short stories ("Dick Ruby and the Case of the Little Green Men," "Hawk and a Handsaw," "The Four Horsemen," and "Ashes of the Immortals") at Comixology here for the extremely low price of 99 cents each. Currently, 100% of the Comixology profits go to the artist. Unfortunately, Jigsaw World which was scheduled to run 88 pages (four 22 page chapters, all of which were scripted), will not be completed with only 30-ish pages finished. I've been encouraged to get another artist to finish the story, but the logistics are more of a hassle than I am willing to commit to right now with three television pilot scripts circulating with production companies both up north and out west and three comic projects (one I'm on deadline for getting a revision in and two others that I will speak more on after the contracts are worked out). Right now, I would rather work with artists as partners on either submissions or self publishing digitally via Comixology rather than do free writing for someone else and their webcomic again. However, for fans of Jigsaw World there is very slim hope. Before I completed the comic script, I adapted the story to a television pilot (one of the three currently making the rounds). At this point I cannot say anything more, but as soon as I can I will. Remember to give me a follow on twitter at @BrettTHarris.

The Art of Collaboration (or When Did You Stop Beating Your Wife?)

My Adventures in Pulp partner, Matthew Childers, recently decided to do a video series showing the process of illustrating a page in our comic, Jigsaw World. He posted part 1 "Thumbnails" here: http://adventuresinpulp.com/process

Not long afterwards, I was asked on Twitter if I minded that he changed my script. I've wrestled with a response for about a day now. Why didn't he ask me something easier like that old trick political question: "When did you stop beating your wife?"

One reason I do Twitter and my blog (beyond shameless self promotion) is to discuss writing and things I like (I probably spend way too much time discussing my son, but I'm a proud poppa, so I ain't quittin' any time soon). In several of my writer's commentaries I have mentioned changes in scripts-to-page. Not every time, because when we started I told Matt he could change things and to use the script as a guideline when it came to panel descriptions. I try really hard to mention when things will be important later on. Most of the time when he makes a change the overall product is better, but I would be lying if I didn't admit there have been some times when it broke my heart to see things changed.You gotta give a little to get a little, especially in  a collaborative medium like comics.

I know what you are thinking, "Did the answer to the question just become BOTH yes and no?"

You betcha!

Let me dive into the "NO" side of the answer in general terms:

No, I'm not mad because, as I said, this is a collaborative medium. There are some writers who HATE when artists deviate from the script. Normally, I'm not one of them as long as the plot points are met. Artists need to be able to have creative freedom and you tend to get better artwork if the artist feels they are contributing creatively and not just looked at like a monkey with a pencil. Sometimes a writer might not like the change and my suggestion to writers is GET OVER IT as long as a plot point is not changed or missed that will affect the story later on. Everyone brings something to the party.  If a writer can't accept that, then they need to be a novelist.  Sometimes I will have a panel that just says "Medium shot of Dan and Cass" to give Matt the maximum amount of freedom. I love the synergy between a writer and artist. In creator owned independent press and webcomics you see more of it. However, once a writer gets to the big boys like DC and Marvel, he or she is playing with other people's toys in someone else's sandbox. You get to go to the dance but editorial sets the tune. They pay you to write a specific story.  Once it's done they will change it to fit their vision (with or without you). Writers should get used to change now, because it will only be worse later. In other words, SUCK IT UP, Princess.

And now let's address the "YES" side of the answer in general terms.

Sometimes artists can take advantage of the creative freedom. Artists need to be VERY selective when they deviate.  Writers tend to have material a certain way for reasons that an artist may not realize. An artist may have a script for a single issue, but the writer will have the whole plot for several issues ahead. It's a big faux pas to change a writer's words. The artist is slapping the writer in the face when they do it. If you are an artist and you make the call to do this, don't just consider why YOU want to make the change but consider WHY the writer had it that way to start with. If an artist can't answer that question, then I HIGHLY RECOMMEND they check with the writer before they change anything too drastically. As I said above, in creator owned independent press and webcomics, you see more synergy between artist and writer because of creative freedoms. However, once an artist gets to the big boys like DC and Marvel, a lot of artists (unless they are super stars) get a script that is set. It has been edited, re-written and agreed upon by an editorial staff. If you change it, you risk future work or going back and redoing panels or entire pages. If an artist changes an editorially set script he/she better have a REALLY good reason.

So all of that has been in general. Let's get specific. I was asked about a single panel in general. Page 7 panel 1 of Jigsaw World #2. Here is the script from the panel in question:

PANEL 1

Dan looking exasperated, his arms outstretched.

DAN

OK, assume I was living on the Moon for the last --

CASSANDRA (OP)

Twenty years.

DAN (new balloon)

Twenty years? OK, hit the high points.

In the video Matt's change is pretty minor. Instead of a shot of Dan, he added in Cass so that they both appear. No big deal. The main reason I wrote it to focus on Dan is because I wanted a panel that focused on his exasperation since his confusion/frustration should, logically, be at a boiling point. I felt Dan needed to be the sole focus without the distraction of having anyone else in the panel so that this emotional moment could be felt by the reader. Without that focus, his frustration might not be noticed by the reader who comes away with the erroneous feeling that "Dan seems to be taking all this in very easily." Matt disagreed and made the change. Sure, it would have been nice to have been consulted about it, but (and this is very important), we are discussing a thumbnail. He may very well have a vision that includes both characters AND conveys Dan's feelings of exasperation. We can't judge until we see the final page. He says in the video he has read the script several times, so he knows Dan is exasperated and while Matt appeared very cavalier about making the change and dismissing what was scripted very casually (which I think may have prompted the original question on Twitter) we don't know what his thought processes are. He may not have verbalized them very well by simply saying he "disagreed" in the video (keep in mind this is his first one) but he may have a good reason, artistically, for making the change.

Bottom line, it's too early to tell. Don't prejudge. I for one am looking forward to future videos in the series.

I know what you are thinking, again: "But he didn't answer if he was mad about the change."

Damn straight, I didn't and I'm not answering any questions about when I stopped beating my wife either.