USA Today 7/8/10: Michael Easton Guest blogger: By day, I star on a soap opera. But after work? I write comics ...
By Michael Easton Jul 08, 2010
The question I get a lot these days is, "How does the nude model in Ally McBeal's sculpting class end up writing a book with best-selling author Peter Straub?"
They're referring to the graphic novel The Green Woman, which Vertigo is set to release in October. And to be honest, I'm trying to make sense of it myself.
Bukowski said, "The difference between a bad poet and a good one is luck." Besides finding my wife, meeting Mr. Straub was my good luck in life. Although, looking back, maybe fate had a little something to do with it, too.
As long as I can remember I wanted to be a writer.
Well, first I wanted to be Joe Strummer. That dream died a hard death in the fall of '81 when we lost the junior high talent show to an Adam Ant impersonator. Soon after the band called it quits over creative differences (also the kid with the drum kit got a girlfriend).
In the months that followed, I became a little more withdrawn. I liked to lock the bedroom door and feel safe living in my own head. I wrote stories and drew pictures. I read comics. I was often referred to as "a moody little sh-t."
But that was OK. I was going to be a writer. One person believed I could do it: my mom. Having her faith in me was like carrying around the Hammer of Thor.
My mom didn't write, but she loved to read. She liked books "that made you a little nervous." Stephen King, Dean Koontz and Peter Straub were the three wise men of our family bookshelf.
I knew her tastes well, because in the last year of her life I read a lot of books to her. She battled chemotherapy for a year (the chemo fights the cancer, you fight the chemo) and I would take her to the infusions every week where I would read to her while she was given the intravenous drip.
We were halfway through the novel Koko when my mom passed away in 1994. I finished reading it for her.
I wrote some poetry about that time, a short collection called Eighteen Straight Whiskeys, but not much else. I was in and out of odd jobs and quickly realized I had no real discernable skills ...
... So I become an actor.
It's a good place to hide out when you're wounded. You're in good company. You're encouraged to be a little crazy. As an adult, there's not many places you can do that without getting locked up.
I was fortunate. I worked hard and caught some breaks. Nothing entirely memorable, but a few good efforts. I worked with some incredibly talented people: David E. Kelley, John Sacret Young and Stephen J. Cannell, to name a few.
I listened, learned and was able to carve out a living. But I never forgot about being a writer. One night, I locked the bedroom door and started living in my head again.
I wrote a graphic novel called Soul Stealer with big, beautiful, epic artwork by Chris Shy. It grew into a trilogy. Hollywood came knocking. They were kind enough to make offers, but I decided to keep it tucked safely up my sleeve. I'm waiting on the magic guys to see it: Ridley Scott, James Cameron, Tim Burton. You've got to hang on to a couple of grand dreams.
Besides, I had a day job to keep me going.
Jump ahead to 2006, ABC Studios, New York City. On the set of One Life To Live, where I now play a character named John McBain. On the way to the stage floor one day, I see a man and his daughter in the hallway. They're on a "behind the scenes" tour of the show.
He looks familiar. I nod, and he says hello as I pass.
Later that night, I go to my mailbox at the studio to pick up my script for the next week. Instead, there's a book. It's inscribed: To Michael Easton. Best Wishes, Peter Straub.
Twelve years later, Koko strikes again.
It takes me two months to write and say thank you. It stirred up a lot of memories (or perhaps I'm just an inconsiderate jerk), but I like to think it was the thoughts of her.
I meet Peter for a drink and tell him the story. We have a few bourbons. We both like Pappy Van Winkle. We become fast friends.
We have a few dinners. I meet his family. Peter actually watches One Life To Live. I tell the producers, and they write Peter onto the show as a recurring character named Pete Braust. He's a good actor right out of the gate.
At this point our ongoing bar tab at O'Neill's pub is getting pretty hefty. We start jotting down the outline for a horror tale on napkins while we drink. Maybe we can sell this story and pay off our debt. Twenty-one-year-old Pappy don't come cheap.
My favorite comic book is Preacher. Peter's is Sandman. Why don't we call up Vertigo? Maybe they'll put us to work?
They let us write the The Green Woman and toss in a genius artist (John Bolton) to boot.
Collaborating with Peter is like going back to school but being let into the master's class. I think it was Coleridge who said something like the difference between a writer and a poet is the writer puts words in the right order; the poet puts the best words in the best order.
Peter is a poet.
Me? I'm just trying to be the writer.
Soul Stealer: Last To Die is in stores now. The Green Woman is available for preorder on Amazon.com.
©
USA Today