One of my very first long form interviews and one that I thought was lost! This was done way back in 2008 with James Hendricks, then host of Talk Ottawa here in Ottawa, Ontario. This interview meant a lot to me since I was basically just starting out and he and the producers of the show were very open and welcoming.
James and I chat about comics and graphic novels, the challenges of being an indy artist, and the changing face of technology and how that applies to comics. We also do a deep dive into my very first graphic novel, titled “the road to god knows…”, that deals with parental mental illness. In the case of that comic, I drew on a lot of my own experiences growing up with my mom; she was diagnosed with schizophrenia when I was very young. We talk about that, too.
Oh! My art that was presented in the original video was pretty rough, so I decided to update it with art revisions I did some years ago.
It’s always a bit weird to be writing this, but here goes. I’m
one of the winners of a 2019 CBC Trailblazer Award. With a trophy and
everything! I have to admit to having mixed feelings about awards*,
but it’s still pretty neat to have won one. And since this is
the second award I’ve won for my art-related activities, it is
another “arrow in the quiver,” especially given how hard
it’s been to get to this point.
Hard?
Hell,
yeah.
Art,
as a career, is not the easiest thing in the world to make a “go”
of, especially given the austerity-fueled times we live in. And it
has taken me a long time, longer than I would have liked, to reach
the point that my art is, for lack of a better word, “professional.”
‘Course, one of the interesting things about art is what one
means by “professional” can take on all kinds of
different meanings. It really depends on who you are and what you
like.
In
my specific case, I knew I was pretty rough, but we really do learn
by doing.
“Doing”
also meant falling on my face. A lot. I’ve covered that in a
piece I wrote called “On Getting Stronger” so I won’t
cover that again here.
I
think one of the interesting things about the Trailblazer Award is it
really is recognition for the work I continue to do around my first
graphic novel, the road to god knows...
Who knew, when I first self-published it almost ten years ago, it
would still be finding a life
now? That’s in large part thanks to the documentary film I Am Still Your Child, written and
directed by Megan Durnford, produced by Katarina Soukup and the fine
folks at Catbird Productions, and
supported by all the creative folks behind it (including “behind
the scenes” people like Alex Margineanu, Howard Goldberg, Kathy Sperberg, Stéphanie Couillard, and Sara Morley, as well as folks like
Jessy Bokser, Sarah Leavens, and Marie Leavens who I shared screen time with). The
film gave a “second life,” so to speak, to the graphic
novel and has led to speaking engagements, panel discussions, Skype
conversations, and on and on.
And,
more concretely, it’s given me an opportunity to talk about my
mom. Not just her battle with schizophrenia, but also the poverty we
battled combined with the lack of social programs to help her. To
talk about the immense courage she showed (courage I’ve
really only became truly aware of as an adult) while she fought a
lonely and often terrifying battle to navigate a truly unforgiving
health care and social aid system. And
what it was like to grow up with her, for both good and ill.
It’s
funny; my mom died pretty young, at 48. And I’m slowly but
surely approaching that age myself. In fact, I’ve now lived
longer without her in
my life than I did with her (she died when I was 20, and I’m
now well-past 40 myself). But the memory of her stays with me still.
That’s partially because I loved her, of course, but also
because I still find, to this day, how unfair her situation was. And
the fact that it never had to be that way. Despite all of the “by
your own bootstraps” nonsense we live in (you know, that idea
that any failure, let alone any health issue, is a sign of personal
rather than societal failure), what happened to my mom was grossly
unfair. What is heartbreaking to me is that the unfairness she
experienced is experienced by so many other people right to this very
day.
Yeah,
yeah, awareness about mental health and mental illness is better.
There’s more open and frank discussion around it. Sure. But
poverty has not gone away. The lack of social support really hasn’t
changed. Welfare rates for anyone (let alone single moms) have, if
anything, gotten much worse. We can talk about “resilience”
and “perseverance” as much as we’d like. We can
even point to individuals who’ve managed to do just that, but
what about those who can’t? There’s still a chronic lack
of systemic support.
There’s still a culture that desperately needs healing (don’t
believe me? Look at the
suicides that are still occurring in the wake of the Parkland
shooting).
I’m
pleased to do what I can to help. And I’m proud, damn proud, to
talk about my mom. To help put a face on what otherwise might be
simple dry statistics.
To use my art, as best I can, to show what some of this is like. But
it’s hard not to escape the idea that in a very real way, the
2019 Trailblazer Award should not have gone to me.
It
really should have gone to my mom.
She
died in 1994, alone and isolated. I had moved out some months before
because I had to, for my own sanity and self-esteem.
What
I try to stress to people, though, is that she had hopes and dreams.
Things she still wanted to accomplish. Who knows what she might have
done if she had managed to beat a truly vile disease and get
healthier? She’d be 73 right now, probably feisty as all get
out, and probably telling her own story to people, trailblazing
change.
I
don’t doubt that for a second. But it was not to be.
I
placed, a long time ago, the grief along with the disappointment of
what could have been. It is what it is and it happened a long time
ago. But other people, right now, are going through similar things.
And even if mental illness is not a part of it, there is still
crushing poverty, a cold and often hostile health and social services
system, kids going hungry, massive personal debts, and horrible
unhappiness. All the celebratory economic statistics in the world
doesn’t change that. There is a lack of solidarity with each
other, not just with our fellow citizens but a lack of solidarity and
fellowship with people around the globe (don’t believe me? Look
at all the hate against immigrants and refugees we’re seeing
now).
We
have to overcome this.
And
what about me? Well, I continue to grow and get stronger, especially
with my art (both visual art and my writing, too). And with my art I
try to not just focus on the past (though always to honour it), but
to move forward with new stories and new adventures. One of the
things about falling in love with art, with comics, and with visual
storytelling, is that the growing and learning never stops.
Using
comics to tell stories has been, I think, the most rewarding thing
I’ve done as an adult. And I can still remember where I was
when the journey started to where I am now. Harder than hell, yeah,
but rewarding all the same.
I
can’t wait to see what happens next.
*
The late Harlan Ellison, back on the “Awards” episode of
the TVOntario program PRISONERS OF GRAVITY said it best: “I
think awards are bullshit. I think awards are detrimental to
the writers…You win a Hugo, you win a Nebula, you win a Horror
Writer’s Award, you win an Edgar, I’ve won all of them in
multiples for god’s sake. What you’re getting are
popularity awards.
If you were a good boy that year. If you were published in the right
place. If the right people read
it. If stories that were five times better than yours were published
in places no one saw them. Then you get an award. They’re
meaningless.
They
had value, years ago, as being, you know, you could put them on a
cover of a paperback. “Hugo Award Winner.” Well, every
book you pick up now is a Hugo Award Winner or Hugo Award Nominee. Or
someone thought this should have won a Hugo. They
don’t mean squat.
The
minute you start thinking that you’ve won an award because
you’re a terrific writer, you’re dead.”
Always
good to keep in mind, right?
Postscript
Here's the CBC Video Interview with me about the Trailblazer Award:
Just prior to the September 27, 2018 screening of the documentary film I AM STILL YOUR CHILD in Montreal as part of the 2018 Low-Beer Memorial Lecture (photos from the event are here), I scampered over to CBC Montreal to do an interview with Sue Smith on the drive home show "Homerun." And thanks to the CBC's Loreen Pindera, I now have an audio copy of the interview I can share!
You can listen to the interview by clicking here or by clicking play on the old timey audio player below. In addition, a lightly edited transcript is provided below.
Lightly Edited Transcript
Sue
Smith: You know, we often talk about getting resources for people
struggling with a mental illness. But what we don’t hear about are
the children who act as caregivers for their own parents who live
with a mental illness. Montreal filmmaker Megan Durnford saw this as
a problem. So she made a documentary featuring three people who grew
up as child caregivers.
Audio excerpt from the documentary film “I
Am Still Your Child”: It can be a lot with mom and school, but
like, thankfully she’s not super needy right now and I help her
when I’m able to. You know, if something happened with her, I don’t
care about my essay. Like, I’m going to do whatever she needs me to
do because her mental health is more important than my grade for this
class.
Sue Smith: That’s the voice of Jessie Bokser, one of three
people featured in the documentary, “I Am Still Your Child.” Von
Allan is also in the film. Von’s mother struggled with
schizophrenia. She died more than 20 years ago. And Von joins me in
the studio. Thanks for coming in, Von.
Von Allan: Oh, you’re very welcome. Hi.
Sue Smith: Hi. So I just came from the film. I’ve just finished
watching it. It’s pretty emotional.
Von Allan: Yeah.
Sue Smith: So tell me a little bit about your story. What was it
like growing up with a mother with schizophrenia?
Von Allan: It was tough. My mom had problems even before I was
born, I’ve subsequently found out. So she was ‘mom’ when I was
a little kid. And it was only as I got older, probably around nine,
maybe even ten, that her problems —
I think her ability to hide her problems from me diminished. And I
was an only child. It was just me and my mom. And then her ability to
want to talk to me more about it —
to be more open about it —
also increased.
But at the same time, her situation was getting tougher. She was
having nervous breakdowns and [would be] hospitalized for a while.
And so she would sometimes disappear for a few days, a few weeks. And
then she’d be back and she’d be ‘mom.’ In hindsight, it was a
more disruptive upbringing. At the time, I knew we were poor. I knew
we were struggling. I didn’t know that things were, quote unquote,
‘wrong’ with my mom, until I became an early teenager. And I sort
of realized ‘she’s not really like other moms.’ She’s smart.
She’s capable. And then sometimes she’s not. So it was a unique
upbringing. And there wasn’t anybody to talk to about it either.
Sue Smith: No. And you have this line that you say in the film
that just came back to me as something like poverty, bankruptcy,
schizophrenia, all three together. That was rough. I mean, that’s
rough.
Von Allan: Yeah. Yeah. Well, I mean, I’ve particularly as an
adult, I get sometimes stunned by the courage it must have taken my
mom to be trying to raise a kid, having these issues, and then —
because we declared bankruptcy around when I was 12 or 13 and then we
were on welfare in Ontario —
she was trying to navigate a somewhat dysfunctional social service
system then. And in many ways, it’s gotten much worse now. And I
don’t know how she did it. And she did it without an ombudsman or
an advocate. I was too young. There wasn’t anybody else. My mom and
dad split when I was very, very young.
Sue Smith: Although you talk about the spaghetti incident in the
film as a time when you did call your dad in. So it does seem like
maybe once in a while he was able to help you.
Von Allan: Yeah, I think I was lucky for some of that stuff is my
dad was in my life. I wasn’t living with him, but he was in my
life. And through sort of the separation agreement, I would see him
fairly regularly. So he was somebody there that I could, when things
got really bad, between when my mom was hospitalized, I could stay
with. So I wasn’t being, you know, put into foster care.
Sue Smith: Well, that’s what I was going to say. It’s kind of
remarkable that your mother was able to keep you.
Von Allan: And I really wonder about that. Again, it’s one of
those things where, as a kid, I have memories of social workers
coming into our house and our house was pretty crappy. Our apartment
was pretty crappy. And I know I was embarrassed by it a lot. But
these —
strangers from my point of view —
would come in and sort of evaluate. And I have no idea to this
day; was it close that somebody was like, “this kid should
be somewhere else?” Or was it not? I have no idea. It’s those
things that —
particularly when you’re a little kid or even just a kid —
you don’t have the context unless somebody really sits you
down and talks to you about it. And for the most part…
I mean, my mom was pretty open about some of what she was going
through, again, into my teen years. But things like that, I had no
idea.
Sue Smith: Now, you’re a graphic artist and you wrote a book
about it, which is featured in the film, “the road to god knows…”.
How did that or did that help you sort of somehow process some of
this stuff? Because this is like really tough stuff for a
nine-year-old, a 12-year-old. Even as an adult, it must be hard to
process.
Von Allan: Yeah, well, it was certainly tough to kind of revisit
it. But in a way, particularly after my mom died and I sort of set
out on drawing and what have you, I knew for was my first book —
particularly for a first story —
I wanted to do something that was really personal to me. And
at that time, looking around, there wasn’t anything else like that
out there. So I thought this might be the kind of story that’s
worth telling.
It’s fictionalized. So the main character is a girl named Marie,
not me. So it’s sort of a fictionalized biography or autobiography,
but that allowed me to play with a bit of time and compress certain
events. But yeah, for the most part, all of it is true, except for me
fictionalizing some of my friends a little bit.
Sue Smith: Yeah, of course. That’s why they’re still your
friends, probably. So one of the things that’s really brought up a
few times in the film is how when you have a parent who struggles
with mental health issues, that affects your own mental health as a
child. How has that affected your own mental health or even just
worrying about your own mental health?
Von Allan: Yeah, I think worrying. I’ve probably been lucky, and
it’s one of those things especially with schizophrenia, as more
data comes out, it seems to be more of a genetic disease than
anything else. So I remember, particularly in my 20s, kind of
wondering, because my recollections of my mom were lots of moments;
like days, weeks, months of lucidity, and then ups and downs, really
just bumpy and unpredictable. So very, very strange.
And also her sense of reality, particularly with that disease, was
very, very tough. Certainly things I knew she told me didn’t
happen, but then there were other allegations, particularly sexual
abuse and stuff, that may have happened and may not have happened.
It’s impossible to disentangle. And in that case, everybody is
dead. So there’s just no way to know. And so for myself,
particularly at that time, it was tough and I worried a bit about it.
But as you get older and you kind of navigate your own life and
what have you, it’s okay. So certainly there are… Because with my
mom, there’s a difference between being unhappy —
being discouraged by events —
and being devastated by them. And I have memories of my mom
not being able to get out of bed. Like she just… I’d get up to go
to school, get my own breakfast, off I go, come home, and she’d
still be in bed. And it’s just there were… she had anxiety issues
on top of everything else. And then when you throw in depression, she
also had migraines. And then I think it’s important to say, too, is
that her physical health — particularly into her 40s, and she died
at 48; she died very young — that also started to play an
increasing role in all of the difficulties. So she’s not only
dealing with a mental illness and trying to navigate a social system
and get the help that she needs. And she was able to do some of that.
But then her nutrition was awful. She gained a lot of weight. I have
vivid memories of… She lost teeth. So, she couldn’t smile
properly anymore. So it was just… you throw all of this stuff
together and it sort of means that your sense of dignity — your
sense of self-esteem — really diminishes. And you’re getting hit
from what you’re struggling with, and then you’re getting hit
from an outside, all these other events that are happening around
you, and particularly poverty. It’s really tough.
Sue Smith: I mean, all these things that you’re talking about —
poverty, mental illness, and the kind of, you know, letting
yourself go, fearing your own mental illness —
these are all really taboo subjects. And you are speaking
about them super openly. Why is it important? Why did you decide to
do this? What do you want people to know?
Von Allan: I think the bottom line is that a mental illness —
any mental illness —
is just that. It’s an illness. It’s a disease. It’s
like cancer. And the people who have it, it’s not because they
screwed up. It’s not that they’ve made personal decisions and
they haven’t taken personal responsibility for their actions. It’s
dumb luck. And it’s bad luck. And I think the worst thing
that people can do is be scared of it. And in a way, because of the
way I grew up…
Sue Smith: But it is scary.
Von Allan: It is scary, but a lot of things are scary. A lot of
diseases, a lot of things that go wrong with our bodies, in just the
physical sense, can be really scary, can be really difficult. But it
didn’t mean my mom was any less loving. It didn’t mean she was
any less compassionate or empathic or anything. She was, in her own
way, a remarkable human being. And I still find to this day the thing
I find most unfair about it is she died when I was 20. So I never got
to know her as an adult. I came to art late. She never saw me draw.
I’ve been married for 20 years. She never met my wife. This stuff
is… All of these things are the costs that any illness, but
mental illness, can
extract on people, on human beings, on families. And it’s tough.
And it’s not fair.
The big reason to get involved in the film and do the graphic
novel is to help share her story. And to tell people, ‘yeah, there
are scary moments.’ I’d be lying if my mom didn’t scare
me at times. There were really terrifying things. The spaghetti
incident is one, you know. She basically lost it and went crazy for a
little while. And I don’t use that word lightly, but she scared the
crap out of me when I was about 11 years old. And started smashing
things and what have you. But that was a very small microcosm of what
her entire situation was. And honestly, when you go through this, it
gets less scary. So the first nervous breakdown, very
scary. You know, the first episodes that she had —
schizophrenic episodes —
was very scary. The fifth, the sixth, less scary. It just is.
You get more experienced with it. And at the same time, I think the
lucky thing for me as a kid, I was getting older. So it got easier.
Sue Smith: It’s just a really compelling story, Von. And you
tell it in a wonderful way here in person, but also in the film.
Thank you so much for coming in.
Von Allan: You’re very welcome.
Sue Smith: My guest is Von Allan. He’s one of three people
featured in the documentary “I Am Still Your Child.” There’s a
free screening of the film tonight. It’s at Oscar Peterson Concert
Hall at 7 o’clock. That’s at Concordia [University], at Loyola
[Campus]. There’s going to be a panel discussion with the cast and
crew. Our Loreen Pindera is leading that. And it’s online. It’s
part of our ‘Absolutely Quebec’ film series here of CBC
Montreal. And we will tweet out that link. It’s really
excellent.
As I noted in my last post, I was invited to participate in AMI Quebec's2018 Low-Beer Memorial Lecture that featured I AM STILL YOUR CHILD, the documentary I'm involved in. The screening and subsequent panel discussion was held at the Oscar Peterson Concert Hall on Concordia University's Loyola campus in Montreal. It was a terrific evening. Possibly the best part for me was just being able to reconnect with so many of the awesome people who were involved in the film (writer/director Megan Durnford, producer Katarina Soukup, designer Sara Morley, as well as film participants Jessy Bokser, Marie Leavins, and Rebecca Heinisch). And to meet new people, including our fantastic moderator Loreen Pindera of the CBC and AMI Quebec's Dr. Ella Amir.
The filmmakers behind the documentary I'm involved in, I AM STILL YOUR CHILD, have released a number of short supporting videos that focus on different aspects of living with a parent struggling with mental illness. The one below deals with the financial impact of mental illness. Simply put: it ain't easy.
The entire video series can be viewed on their Youtube site and add up to over 30 minutes of bonus content. While the documentary is only available for streaming inside Canada right now, the short videos should be watchable anywhere in the world.
Well, this is pretty neat! Reporter Blair Crawford along with photographer Julie Oliver from the Ottawa Citizen did a feature story on yours truly. The story explores my childhood, my mom's struggle with mental illness (specifically schizophrenia), my graphic novel the road to god knows..., and the documentary film I'm involved in titled I AM STILL YOUR CHILD.
I should add that the online article also contains a short two minute video interview with me. Plus the great and mysterious Corbin makes a surprise guest appearance! I've embedded the video below:
Scans from the Ottawa Citizen are below:
And the interior page (the scan is a bit hard to read, but the full article can be found online here):
Update!
As it turns out, the Citizen's sister paper the Ottawa Sun also ran a story. This is pretty much the same thing, though there are a few minor differences. I'm not crazy about the headline, but pretty neat all the same.
This is a short (approximately 4 minute) CBC Arts profile on yours truly. In it, I discuss art and comics, growing up with a parent that's mentally ill, and also my process of making art. I should add that this short is actually part of a larger documentary, titled I AM STILL YOUR CHILD, that is available to stream anywhere in Canada right now. Information on viewing it in other parts of the world should be known soon. The documentary's official website is a good way to keep on top of this.
As noted in the accompanying CBC article, the documentary I AM STILL YOUR CHILD gave me an opportunity to revisit the artwork from my graphic novel the road to god knows.... This is mainly because the original graphic novel was published in 2009 and the film premiered in 2017. That's a long time and my art has grown and developed between those two dates. For those who'd like to learn a little more about this, I did a short essay discussing the changes (including direct comparisons with the art).
If the player doesn't work, you should be able to find the video here.
I wrote and drew a graphic novel titled the road to god knows...,
which was published in 2009 after about four years of development.
The story dealt with a young teenager's struggle to cope with her
mom's schizophrenia. It's pretty autobiographical; to tell the story,
I drew on a lot of my own experiences with my own mom's
schizophrenia. It's fictional for all kinds of reasons, but the main
one was that I wanted some distance from the story.
That said, the graphic novel was self-published and, art-wise, it's rough.
I think there was a lot of heart to it, but my visual art was pretty
weak. Figure-drawing problems, perspective problems, composition
problems, value problems...you name a problem and road had
it. In spades. I came to art very late and learning to draw is not
the easiest thing in the world to do. Comics require a great deal of
knowledge to do well. Those problems I mentioned? Well, you need
everything to work together extremely well to create a comic. If that
harmony isn't there...well, you get a pretty rough comic. And that
certainly was an issue with road.
But we learn by doing and I'm still proud, to this day, that I
managed to do it. Rough spots and all.
So
I published it and it did as well as could be expected, especially
given my art skills at the time. And though it still sold a bit every
year, I stopped thinking about it. I moved on with my life, continued
to make art and comics, continued to get stronger, but putting that
rough first graphic novel behind me.
Flash
forward to April 2015 and I received an email out of the blue from a
writer/director named Megan Durnford. She's working on a documentary
film about the impact of parental mental illness and wanted to talk
with me about road. To
make a long story short, the film (titled I Am Still Your
Child)was
made (amazing!) and I was a part of it (shocking!). And it was made
with empathy and sensitivity and deals with an issue that really
isn't discussed much in public at all. I was (and am) very pleased to be included in the film.
The
making of the documentary led to an interesting situation. Megan
wanted to use artwork from the road to god knows...
in the documentary. And...that was not good. I hadn't looked at the
art in a number of years and, when I revisited it, I was dismayed
(maybe horrified would be a better word). The art was rough. Really,
really rough. And it put me in a bind; I didn't want to have road
represent where I am now.
That may sound weird; I think it did with the folks involved in the
film, but because the graphic novel was such a personal project for
me and because my art had certainly improved quite a bit from back
then, the idea of seeing that
art in a documentary left me cold.
So
we worked out an interesting solution. I would revisit road
and redraw selected pages and panels from the graphic novel that
Megan wanted to include in the film. As it turns out, that was one
helluva big job.
Some
of the work was emotional; I was revisiting themes that in some ways
I didn't want to revisit. For example, I was revisiting the death of
my mom; the graphic novel is pretty autobiographical and while my mom
died long before it was ever published, her presence is a big part of
of the story for me.
Some
of the work was practical; in order to keep the pages similar, I had to stay
pretty close to how I did things almost a decade ago, even though I would not necessarily write or draw the
same way now. That wasn't
easy; how I approach composition is different now. My thoughts on how
a comic book page is put together is different now. How I write is
different now. And on and on. Plus there was that pesky fact that the
original art was pretty rough. I could use it as a guideline, really
a very loose thumbnail, but that's it. I would have to draw most of
it from scratch, as if it was a brand new story.
The
actual redrawn art presented another problem. By redrawing the art, I
could accidentally give the impression that the new art is what the
graphic novel actually looks like. I felt a little sick when that
dawned on me, so the solution was to avoid it completely by making
the graphic novel out of print. I realize that there still a few
copies “out there,” but it's fortunately not so easy to
find and hopefully anyone who sees the documentary (along with the
caveat about the art in the film credits) will understand. It's one
of those weird situations that is almost counter-intuitive; in a way,
the documentary will bring more attention to the road to
god knows... then it ever had
before. But to redraw the entire graphic novel (to “fix it”
if you will) would be a monumental undertaking. Even with the redraws
I did for the documentary, I only wound up touching something like
10% of the book. To redraw the rest would require...well, certainly a
very keen and excited publisher. For me to do that other 90%? Nope.
Tempting, but nope. I would rather move forward then go backward.
Given
all that, the redraws represent an interesting and fairly poignant
“what if.” What if I hadn't published the graphic novel
when I did? What if the entire graphic novel looked the way the
redraws do? Would it have found a broader audience? Would it have
found a publisher? What if?
Ultimately,
who knows? We learning by doing. I did the best work I could on the
road to god knows... back in
2005-2009. That the work wasn't the
best is unfortunate, but that's life. If I hadn't done it, would I
have given up on art by now? Who knows? Do I regret doing it? No, but
I'd be lying if I didn't say that I wish the art in the original
version was stronger. It was hard to revisit on that point alone.
You
may note, by the by, that I don't say that I've gotten better.
Better, in art and in life, is
a judgment call that's difficult to make. Who's to say? What is
better? But I know that I have gotten stronger.
And that's enough.
It
is pretty amazing to find that road
still touches people, enough to be included in a documentary almost
eight years after it was published. Enough that the book is still
talked about today. I occasionally get emails, like the one I
received from Megan back in the spring of 2015. And, despite my
misgivings, I'm happy the book keeps touching people, even in its
rough form.
And
road, despite its
flaws, taught me one thing. I love to draw. I wish I had found that
out earlier, but I know it now. And that's not nothing.
The Redraws
What
follows are a series of images from the original published version of
the road to god knows...
and the re-draw versions. These are presented side by side, without
further comment from me.
I've been fortunate enough to be involved in a documentary project focusing on the children of parents with mental illness (COPMI). It's a pretty amazing project and I've been thrilled to be involved. Megan Durnford, the writer and director, Katarina Soukup, the producer from Catbird Productions, Stéphanie Couillard, Alex Margineanu (cinematographer), Stéphane Barsalou (sound recorder), and the rest of the crew have brought an empathy to the film that is quite remarkable. There are still a lot of societal taboos regarding mental illness and I think this film might help challenge that.
So why did they get in touch with me? Well, my mom was diagnosed schizophrenic when I was quite young. I actually wrote and drew a graphic novel titled the road to god knows... that is an account (albeit fictionalized) of my experiences with my mom's mental illness and my growing awareness that she was not "okay." I didn't go the full autobiographical route for a number of reasons, but one of the main one's is that my mom died before I even started the comic and I wanted some emotional distance from the work and my own life.
The documentary uses quite a bit of my art through it, but I should note that I actually re-drew a number of pages specifically for the film (I'm going to do a follow-up post specifically on this subject in the near future).
The film will be airing on CBC Montreal through the documentary series Absolutely Quebec on Saturday, September 16th. It will have a wider release shortly after that. I'll update the website as I know more.
In the meantime, the trailer linked above really captures the tone of it very well. I think it's beautiful. For more on the film, keep an eye on the Facebook page and the official website.
TL Rader: Alright, the second half of the show coming up is jam-packed.
Derick Fage: It is.
TL Rader: You’re having an interesting conversation with Von Allan.
Derick Fage: Oh, this is great.
TL Rader: This is going to be neat. I can’t wait to hear you guys have your chat.
Derick Fage: He is a Lulu Award nominee. He’s actually been nominated for three of these awards. And these awards, as a matter of fact, are for books, graphic novels, books by women, for women. Von Allan is a man.
TL Rader: I know!
Derick Fage: So you can imagine there’s a bit of controversy around these nominations. And it’s a wonderful book. As you can see, my bookmark, I’m three-quarters of the way through. It talks about a very important topic. The main character, of course, is a woman.
TL Rader: Yeah, he was nominated in like three categories, right?
Derick Fage: That’s right. One of them being Best Newcomer. And I think that’s really the biggest, most controversial nomination so far.
TL Rader: Yeah, because one was for the character or something. So that’s, you know, but the fact that it’s Newcomer, but it’s a man.
Derick Fage: Yes.
TL Rader: Yeah, yeah, that’s interesting.
Derick Fage: So it’s going to be a great conversation. I’m looking forward to it.
[Transition Break]
Derick Fage: Welcome back to the show. I want you to imagine there’s a set of awards for comics for women by women. And you happen to be a man who writes a graphic novel, a comic, and is nominated for three of those awards. Well, there is some controversy involved. And Von Allan, the author of “the road to god knows…,” joins us on the show. First of all, congratulations on the book.
Von Allan: Thank you.
Derick Fage: And congratulations on the nominations.
Von Allan: Thank you very much.
Derick Fage: Let’s jump into the nominations.
Von Allan: Sure.
Derick Fage: Right off the bat, before we get into the book, because it must have… Did it come as a surprise to you when you found out? Because you were nominated for three awards, correct?
Von Allan: Oh, yeah. I was aware they… It’s all by popular vote. So I was aware that they were happening, and I mentioned to a couple of people online in like early August that, hey, you know, there’s a chance. Go nominate me. You know, what the hell. I suggested to people that, like, best book and maybe best character. I never thought that it would even necessarily be eligible for any of the other categories. So I’m still a bit stunned how it made the other category that’s the contentious one.
Derick Fage: Well, what’s the contentious one? What’s that other category?
Von Allan: Okay. It’s called the Kim Yale Award, and it’s in honour of a female writer named Kim Yale who died of breast cancer when she was 43, I believe. And it’s been around for a while, around 15 years as far as I know, and no man had ever been shortlisted in that category, I guess. So how I got shortlisted in that, I’m not sure, but as it’s turned out, I guess there was never anything in the statutes of that category that forbid it. It just never happened before.
Derick Fage: Okay. So if you win that award, then we could probably see this explode into even more controversy.
Von Allan: Yes.
Derick Fage: Well, let’s talk about the book itself. I had a chance to read it, and you really tackle an important issue that I think is taboo for a lot of people, but you decided to tackle mental illness. Why did you choose that particular topic?
Von Allan: Well, it was a couple of things. The really pragmatic choice is when you’re nobody and you’re trying to do a first book, you either… in comics, it’s primarily superheroes in North America, so you either do your riff on superheroes. Nobody’s ever heard of you. Why would they read it?
Derick Fage: Right.
Von Allan: Or you do something that’s personal. I used to run a bookstore. I know, regardless of subject matter, regardless of, you know, graphic novel or prose or what have you, how hard first-time books struggle with sales. So you might as well do something you believe in.
My mom was diagnosed schizophrenic when I was a kid. It meant my upbringing, I was a sort of single child — my mom and dad split up when I was pretty young — so it meant my upbringing was kind of unique compared to some other people I knew.
Derick Fage: Right.
Von Allan: And I looked around and I just didn’t see really any other graphic novels or comics tackling this subject matter. So I thought it was important. I thought I could maybe bring a bit of — maybe ‘insight’ is too strong of a word — but I had something to say about it. That’s why I did it.
Derick Fage: Yeah, you can share your personal story. I think what’s really intriguing is that you chose to do it from a female perspective.
Von Allan: Well, that was for a couple of reasons. One is I was really sure that if I did it from, if the main character had been a boy, then it would have been very clear, like, ‘hey, he’s talking about himself. Look, it’s right there. That’s him.’
Derick Fage: Right.
Von Allan: So I didn’t want to do that. The other thing is, as soon as I made the main character, Marie, female, it’s fiction. I could play with time. I could take elements that did happen in my life, but I could compress them into a narrative that actually worked for a pacing of the story. In real life, some of the stuff, really all the stuff happened in the book to me, but it would have happened over a number of years. So trying to make the narrative work just over about a month or so was a big deal when I was writing the script.
Derick Fage: Well, and her character has a best friend throughout this.
Von Allan: Yes.
Derick Fage: That’s a great support to her. Is that something that you had in your life? In your life? In your situation?
Von Allan: I did, but not so much through one person.
Derick Fage: Okay.
Von Allan: So Kelly, her friend, is sort of an amalgam of a number of different people. And that’s actually one of the other reasons why I didn’t want to do it as pure autobiographical material, because I’d have to okay this with people.
Derick Fage: Right.
Von Allan: Like, are you okay? Really? Oh, I didn’t represent you? Well, somebody’s coming at me with a knife, you know, or what have you.
Derick Fage: Right.
Von Allan: So fiction just opens up everything. It allows you to play with stuff. I was able to take some of the best elements, what I would consider the best elements of friends I had. And I didn’t have a large number of friends when I was a kid, and I was a pretty shy kid. But it allowed me to say, you know, these people actually did matter. They do help.
And when you’re going through some of this stuff, and you’re going through it alone, it’s very isolating. So just being able to hang out with a friend, blow off steam on a Saturday, or what have you, in hindsight, I had no idea how much that helped go through some of this stuff.
Derick Fage: Right. The character, obviously the main character, Marie, shows great strength throughout this book.
Von Allan: I think so.
Derick Fage: I mean, she really is a heroine. Did you find that you had that kind of strength when you were going through this?
Von Allan: No, but I mean, I think one of the things I tried to do with the book is, to my mind, the sort of the driving force is Marie’s growing up. She’s around 13 in the story. And the awareness she has, and it’s implied in the story, I don’t come out and say it, is she realizes that her mom’s messed up. She can’t solve that problem for her mom. She loves her mom, her mom loves her, but she can’t fix it for her. So Marie has to learn to let go. And in letting go, she’s learning to stand on her own two feet. And that, to my mind, is underlying everything, is the full narrative. It’s her awakening as becoming an adult.
Derick Fage: Right.
Von Allan: And it’s huge. So I mean, the strength is, it’s that awareness. And that she comes to that, I think is, to my mind, is the best part of the story.
Derick Fage: We’re obviously going to follow this story about the Lulu Award nominations and looking forward to that. You also have another book coming out called “Stargazer.” Which is very different from this one that you did. Tell us about the book coming out in November.
Von Allan: It’s about three young girls. It’s a fantasy. So it’s very, very different. “Road” is very much a slice of life story. So it’s about three girls who find themselves, younger girls, who find themselves magically transported to another planet.
And it’s funny because I wanted to do a story that was very different than “road” that actually still sort of hit on some of the same themes. So actually, what I was just saying, letting go is a huge part. These girls want to get home. Marnie, the main character in that story, is dealing with the death of her grandmother. And her inability to let go is a huge part of that story.
So when I came up with the idea, it sort of echoes “road,” but in a completely different way with a very, very different subject matter.
Derick Fage: Yeah, and I can see it too. Because being in that situation where you’ve got, you know, a family member suffering from mental illness and you’re young, you probably got away from it all by fantasizing, right? And going somewhere else.
Von Allan: I think people underestimate the power of escapism. You know, it doesn’t really matter what it is. Even if it’s crap, you know, it doesn’t really matter. Being able to, you know, on a Saturday evening, curl up with comics or watch a movie or something like that. Or as in “road,” you know, watch wrestling or something. Just to be able to take a break from stuff, take a break from your life and pull back is, I think, incredibly therapeutic.
Derick Fage: Yeah, I agree a hundred percent. The book launch coming up in November, tell us when and where.
Von Allan: It’s on November 7th at Perfect Books. It’s a Sunday. And Perfect Books on Elgin Street, 258A Elgin Street at about four o’clock and then we’ll see how long it goes. You know, hopefully lots of people, so it’ll go for a while.
Derick Fage: Well, congratulations. Real pleasure having you on the show. Really appreciate it. If you want to find out more information or follow the story on the Lulu Award nominations, you can visit Von Allan’s website at www.vonallan.com.
Don’t go anywhere. We’ll be right back right after the break.
Way
back in 2007, I had a very nice chat with Adrian
Harewood, then host of the CBC Ottawa radio program All
In A Day. This was actually a very special moment for me; I had
been a long-time fan of the show and I listened to it quite regularly
while I was working away at my drawing board. Needless to say it was
cool —
and intimidating —
to be invited on as a guest. I think I managed to over my
nerves pretty quickly and we proceeded to discuss comics in Canada as
well as my part in an art show at the Parkdale
Gallery (owned and operated by artist James Robinson). The show
was titled “Comic
Book Chaos” and featured a number of Ottawa-area cartoonists
and comic book artists. Sadly, the Parkdale Gallery has now closed;
running a gallery is never easy, but I was quite disappointed when
James was forced to shut it down.
You can listen by clicking
right here or by clicking play on the little player below. In
addition, a lightly-edited transcript of our discussion is provided
below.
Lightly Edited Transcript
Adrian Harewood: For decades it was seen as disposable art, but
throughout December an Ottawa Art Gallery is celebrating comic book
art. The Parkdale Gallery is holding an exhibit called “Comic Book
Chaos.” An Ottawa artist, Eric Julien, is featured in the show.
He’s the artist behind the graphic novel “the road to god knows…”
and he draws under the pen name Von Allan. Eric joins us in our
studio. Hi Eric.
Von Allan: Hi.
Adrian Harewood: Thanks so much for coming in.
Von Allan: Oh, my pleasure.
Adrian Harewood: Eric, you’ve been invited to exhibit as part of
this show. Why do you think comic strips belong in art galleries?
Von Allan: I think for the longest time they weren’t —
particularly the art form of comics — wasn’t really considered
that important.
Adrian Harewood: Why?
Von Allan: I don’t know. I think, well, I think part of it is
that one of the things —
one of my picky points — has
always been that a lot of people confuse comics as a medium and the
genre. And the genre in North America has traditionally been
superheroes. And not that there’s anything wrong with that, but
that would be like saying all literature has to be romance novels.
And there’s far more depth to the medium than that. And because of
that disconnect, you’ve had, to my mind, people thinking that
superheroes equal kids stuff. It’s not really relevant. So why
would it ever be in a gallery? It doesn’t belong there. So it
really has no place.
Adrian Harewood: It’s almost seen — perhaps in some quarters —
as being too popular, as serving the masses.
It certainly is and was a populist medium, for sure. I mean, there
was a time, not really that long ago, where comics were found on
every corner newsstand. And that’s where people would go. I mean,
the comic book shop as a retail store is really something that’s
only come in through the mid to late 70s. And that sort of changed
the purchasing arrangement of how comics were consumed. And it also
meant that they became more collectible. And it’s the collectible
part that kind of bugs me sometimes.
Adrian Harewood: How did you become a graphic novelist?
Von Allan: It’s a weird story. I used to run Perfect Books down
on Elgin Street. I was sort of selling other people’s creativity,
not my own. And I’ve always loved comics. They’ve always spoken
to me. And I was kind of a lonely, insecure kid. They were good
escapism for me. And it was totally superheroes I was escaping into.
And I never thought I could do this. I never thought I could draw.
And for a variety of happy circumstances, I took a shot at it. I just
got over that hump and I took a shot. I sucked for a long time. But I
started drawing and I got better. And I think I’ve gotten better
now. And it was just the leap of faith.
Adrian Harewood: Was it an epiphany? Did you just wake up one
morning and say, “I can do this as well.”
Von Allan: I thought I could write. I didn’t really think I
could draw. And then I was lucky enough to start meeting a few people
who were artists, partially through the bookstore. And I started
getting an insight into the work involved, the bad days, the
struggle, the struggle to get better, all that kind of stuff. And it
sounds so naive. I sound so silly with it. But I really thought that
artists of all stripes, not just comics, were kind of hit with a
magic wand when they were born. And they were an artist and the
talent was always there.
Adrian Harewood: They were made that way.
Von Allan: They were made that way. And if you didn’t have that,
if you weren’t part of that secret society, you couldn’t do it.
And that’s totally false.
Adrian Harewood: You’ve proved it. You have your your new novel
part of your graphic novel, “the road to god knows…” is
featured in this exhibit. And it was recently published online. Can
you walk me through the story?
Von Allan: It’s about a teenage girl dealing with her mom’s
schizophrenia.
Adrian Harewood: Her name is Marie.
Von Allan: Her name is Marie and she’s going through some tough
times. The story set in Ottawa. And it’s, I guess you would call it
is a “slice of life” story. And what I tried to do with it was
tell a story that hopefully resonates, if I’ve done my job right,
and doesn’t try to give any pat answers to what mental illness —
or in this case — what schizophrenia is. In a way, I think the
story might disappoint a few people who — by the time they end
this, like they’ve closed the last page — they might be a little
bit disappointed that there isn’t a happy resolution. Mental
illness isn’t something you resolve in one fell swoop. There is a
subplot. There is a subplot that keeps the story going that I think
will give it some closure. It was something I thought was important
to deal with. It speaks to me personally from some of my own
experiences in my life. And it was different than a lot of stuff
that’s out there.
Adrian Harewood: I was gonna ask you that question, because you
call it a slice of life story. How much of it is a slice of your
life?
Von Allan: If you can imagine I’m a teenage girl, it’s pretty
close. I drew a lot of my own experiences. Some comic book artists —
like Seth and what have you, Chester Brown — have done a lot of
autobiographical material. I was a little bit hesitant for a variety
of reasons. The main one is that I find fiction lets you play with
time a little bit. If it’s pure autobiography, you run into the
pesky details of representing real human beings who may not be so
keen on how you’re depicting them. With fiction, you can play with
it. I made amalgams of different people. I think I made amalgams of
myself in it. I don’t consider Marie myself. She’s one
permutation of what I could have been or who I might have been. And
it is a lot more freeing to write a script like that.
Adrian Harewood: Clearly, this is a story for people to read, to
look at. But how much of it is therapy?
Von Allan: I don’t think… I don’t ever want to call it that,
but it probably was therapeutic for me. I don’t want to be didactic
and getting up on a soapbox, or anything like that with it. I don’t
think there are any easy answers. I think in a way — again, if I’ve
done my job right — I’m raising questions about mental illness,
at least how one family copes with it. That’s probably as far as
I’m willing to go. This is just one look at it.
Adrian Harewood: What do you think graphic novels can do that
straight novels can’t?
Von Allan: They present visuals in a way that’s different than a
film or TV or anything like that. And can be differently nuanced than
fiction. I don’t think one medium is superior to the other or
anything like that. I love novels and I’ve happily sold fantastic
books that I strongly believe in. But I do think that it’s
something about the combination of how words and pictures — if you
get into “left brain, right brain” theory — works in a way
that’s different fundamentally than what film and literature bring.
It’s that very difference that makes comics and graphic novels so
special.
Adrian Harewood: How did you go about selecting which pages you
wanted to display in the gallery?
Von Allan: That was tricky. Partially because in a way it’s
almost counter-intuitive to what the graphic novel is supposed to be.
I mean, each page flows sequentially to try to tell a story. So
taking some of those pages out of context kind of concerned me a
little bit. Really, it came down to trying to find images that I
thought worked on their own, kind of told a story in and of
themselves. A lot of these were sort of splash pages, larger pages
that I thought would work okay on a wall. It’s still a bit of a
different experience. I’m hoping people like it. It is a little
unusual, though, to do it. I think I picked well. We’ll see.
Adrian Harewood: This really seems to be the golden age in some
ways for graphic novels. Even in this country, I’m thinking…
you mentioned Chester Brown and his great novel “Louis Riel.” One
person whom I love, Ho Che Anderson.
Von Allan: Yeah, Ho Che Anderson is amazing.
Adrian Harewood: What is it about? What’s going on in Canada
right now that we’re producing so many fine graphic novelists?
Von Allan: Without sounding too trite, I think the medium is
growing up. I think that, for a long time, it was that superhero —
sort of dogmatic, bam, that’s what it was. People are now trying
different things. Bookstores are way more approachable now with
carrying them. Almost every bookstore at least has a couple of
graphic novels in. There was a time if they were there at all, they
were in the kids section. That certainly helped. The talent has
gotten a lot better. It’s a lot more varied. We need more
publishers pursuing it and trying to find good works, bringing that
work to the public and showing it off.
Adrian Harewood: You’re trying to break into a pretty tough
industry. What do you think you need to do to succeed?
Von Allan: I wish I had the answer for that. It has been a really
tricky thing. And I ran a bookstore! I wish I had more insights than
I do. You keep pushing, you stay optimistic. You hope the work
resonates. Connections, you really you have no idea. I think
sometimes it’s a crapshoot. I will say I wish sometimes there was a
little bit more attention to graphic novels with some of the award
categories. But that’s a pipe dream of mine right now. That’s not
quite there yet.
Adrian Harewood: I want you to make your pitch right now. Why
should people go and go and see this exhibit at the gallery?
Von Allan: There is amazing stuff. And it’s not just mine. If
you want to see different artwork, artwork that will stick in your
gut, artwork that is colorful, it’s bold, it’s doing different
stuff. I mean, there’s Ottawa artists like Ronn
Sutton, who people don’t even know that are there. You know,
it’s magic. There’s some amazing work going on right there. And I
think it’s not all just comics or anything like that. But I think
you’ll be pleasantly surprised if you go. Take a look.
Adrian Harewood: Eric, great to talk to you. Nice to meet you.
Thanks so much for coming in.
Von Allan: Thanks very much.
Adrian Harewood: Eric Julien also goes by his pen name Von Allan.
You can check out his graphic novel “the road to god knows…” at
www.girlamatic.com.
Some of Eric’s work is also on display at the Parkdale Gallery as
part of the “Comic Book Chaos” Exhibit. And the show runs until
January 1st.
This is a radio interview I did with Erin Ashley on CCKC radio in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia in the fall of 2009. We discuss my graphic novel “the road to god knows…” and how Children of Parents with a Mental Illness (or COPMI) cope. Or at least how I did. You can listen to the interview by clicking here, playing it using the audio player below, or you can read the lightly edited transcript of the interview just below the audio player.
Lightly Edited Transcript
Erin
Ashley: My name is Erin Ashley. I am about to kick out the jams, but
I got one little thing left to share with you. And that is about
graphic novel “the road to god knows…”, which introduces the
reader to teenage Marie. She’s trying to adjust to her mother’s
recent mental health diagnosis. Now, schizophrenia is a lonely
disease, and graphic novelist Von Allan is one unfortunate soul who
knows all about it. Growing up, Von and his mother suffered through
her mental illness, but the experience wasn’t completely negative.
After all, he was inspired to write “the road to god knows…”, a
semi-autobiographical comic which he hopes will help others living
with the disease. I got a hold of him via telephone, and this is what
he had to say.
I’m curious about the circumstances around publishing this
novel. Is this something you put out yourself, or did you have to
shop it around a little bit?
Von Allan: I actually put it out by myself. I did shop it around a
little bit. It’s a first book, and I’m an unknown creator, so
it’s hard right now in publishing to get people to pay attention to
you. And I didn’t shop it around to too many publishers, but I
decided, you know, you sort of go through the rejection process and
what have you, and it’s pretty difficult for any author, no matter
how successful they are. And I just went, “it’s a pretty personal
book for me. I’d like to be able to control it.” Aside from
anything else, it’s pretty autobiographical. So choosing this
route, doing the self-publishing route, seemed to fit it really well.
And so far the reception is pretty good. Nobody seems to care all
that much that I self-published it. So, “yay” for that!
Erin Ashley: Now, you’ve written “the road to god knows…”
to create a dialogue about mental illness. Why do you feel a graphic
novel was the best way to achieve this?
Von Allan: Well, I love comics. I’ve loved comics since I was
about seven or eight years old. And I think comics have a unique
power as a medium to actually communicate a little differently than
how prose does and how film does. There’s been a lot of different
discussion in the past about why comics work the way they do. Some
people do “right brain, left brain” theory, that there’s
something about the combination of words and pictures, and how they
sort of just get right into your head that’s remarkably powerful.
And more pragmatically, too, is when I was sort of trying to
figure out what story I wanted to do for my first one, it seemed to
be something that not very many other people have tackled. So, as
opposed to doing another superhero story or something like that
that’s been pretty well done to death in comics, doing something
more personal, doing something that not very many other people have
tried to tackle, seemed to be a really good way to go.
Erin Ashley: Yeah, definitely. I know it says in your bio that you
kind of dealt with a lot of the same things that Marie deals with in
the graphic novel. And you actually took solace and refuge in
basically the land of make-believe, like wrestling and comic books,
like you were saying earlier. So what was so comforting about that
land of make-believe?
Von Allan: I think the big thing is that it’s escape. I mean,
one of the things when you’re going through something like this —
I’m saying this now that I know this. I’m an adult and I
can look back on it and what have you, but the story is really
autobiographical, aside from the fact that the main character is a
girl. Things are really confusing. My mom wasn’t well. I didn’t
know why. My mom had went through a lot of nervous breakdowns while I
was growing up. And a lot of things didn’t make sense to me. And
that confusion is scary. I was scared a lot. I remember being really
terrified a lot. Not so much of my mom, but I didn’t understand
what would trigger things. I didn’t understand why these things
were happening to her. And I was totally powerless.
You know, it’s my mom. I love her. And this stuff is happening
and I can’t help. I don’t have the tools to help her. And
nobody’s talking to me either. Nobody in the healthcare profession
or what have you at the time was able to really communicate with me —
sort of push me aside or pull me aside —
and explain what was happening.
So, what do you do? You know, you’re going to school. You’re
trying to do this stuff and you try to live your life. And I found a
sort of happiness and joy in escapism. And I think a lot of kids
probably do. So, for me, it was comics. I was lucky enough to meet up
with friends who were really into comics and I just fell in love with
them. Stuff as silly as pro wrestling like the book talks about. Also
science fiction and what have you. It was just things where what was
going on was really confusing in my own life. So being able to just
sort of stop thinking about it, stop worrying about it, even if it’s
only for a couple of hours, did me a lot of good.
Erin Ashley: Okay. So what’s next for Von Allan?
Von Allan: Well, I mean, I’m trying to get this book out there
now. And at the same time, I’m working on my next story. So this is
going to be very different. It’s called “Stargazer.” And it’s
going to be more of a kid’s story with adult themes. So I’m a
little this way, you know. I always like doing stories that have
reasonably heavy subject matter. So it deals with a lot of themes of
death and letting go of things because that’s part of life, too.
It’s funny. When I tried to figure out what to do, I was
thinking, ‘what could I follow up “the road to god knows…”
with?’ And I wanted to do something at least thematically similar,
if not exactly the same thing. So “Stargazer” is a fantasy. But
ironically, it does actually tie into that, you know, how “road”
works as well. It’s just I had some more things to say.
Erin Ashley: And so when “Stargazer” going to hit shelves, do
you think?
Von Allan: I don’t know. I’m 60 pages in. It’s going to
start as a webcomic; barring anything weird happening, it will start
as a webcomic first. So for free online. And people can find more
about that in my website. And that should actually happen in the next
month or so. And then we’ll see if it’s popular enough. Then
it’ll become a book, as well.
Erin Ashley: Thanks a lot for joining me today, Von Allan.
Von Allan: Oh, you’re very welcome. Thanks for giving me your
time.
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