newmanpicturesblog

cream soda

2012-02-09T14:10:00.000-05:00

steven l. 3, volume 2

2012-02-09T10:06:00.000-05:00

giant

2012-02-02T12:04:00.003-05:00

lou

2011-10-03T09:00:00.000-04:00

steven l. 2, volume 2

2011-09-22T13:43:00.000-04:00

steven l. 1, volume 2

2011-09-21T16:04:00.002-04:00

tuesday 2

2011-08-23T09:19:00.007-04:00

After some (cursory) research, I still have no idea why books (not to mention albums and video games) are released on Tuesday. Is it because sales figures are tallied on Monday, making Tuesday the beginning of the retail week? Or is it because Tuesday sales are traditionally the lowest, and are therefore boosted by the purchase of new releases? The one website I looked to for this information couldn't say (I did say my research was cursory). However, there seemed to be a consensus between its forum members that a possible reason is "no one likes Mondays". Sure, why not.

The point is, buy my new picture book, Hand Book. It's available today, and here's what Kirkus Reviews, who gave it a star for merit, had to say about it:

Through simple drawings of hands in action, Newman deftly illustrates both the progress of a person’s life and the cyclical—and hopeful—nature of the human condition.

“One hand. / Two hands. / Two hands clap.” So begins this rhyming, universal tale about a child learning to live. He eats and swings, washes and waves, falls and gets up. As a teen, the boy studies and types; as a young man he soul-searches and job-seeks, feels defeat and accomplishment…and finds love. Newman’s two-word sentences, woven with his spontaneous, expressive drawings, lead to affecting phrasing that’s poignant and stirring. The line drawings, done in ink (or marker) with solid colors filling out the forms of the hands, are in an Al Hirschfeld– or Jules Feiffer–style of caricature or editorial illustration. Loads of white space allows the artwork to breathe; after one powerful pause, Newman returns to his opening lines, where childhood begins again, and the struggles and joys of life are reaffirmed.

A lovely tribute to growing up that will endearingly mature with its readers.

YOU: "Hey, that sounds pretty good. I think I'll go pick up a couple three."

ME: "No! It's too dangerous!"

YOU: "Trust me, doll."

ME: "You rogue!"

ME slaps YOU, storms off stage.

END OF ACT ONE

girl 2

2011-08-22T15:17:00.000-04:00

swell

2011-08-18T14:04:00.002-04:00

gary chocolate-bear will never meet freddy krueger

2011-07-26T14:40:00.004-04:00

Gary Chocolate-Bear’s only desire was to box with and defeat Freddy Krueger in a third round knockout at Madison Square Garden on the 8th of May, 2019. So, he was pretty upset when the world exploded a full seven years before his dream could be realized.

As he and the rest of the Chocolate-Bears, who were understandably dead, slowly spun across the great expanse of the Milky Way, Gary wondered aloud what caused him to harbor such a ridiculous ambition in the first place.

“Eggs,” said the uninterred skeleton of Mussolini.
“No,” said Gary. “It can’t be that simple.”
Musskeletini sighed, “You’re right. I just hate to see you sad.”
Gary patted him on the spine. “You’ve always been a good friend.”

But you and I know Gary was only being kind. He’d never forgiven his companion for that one time with the thing and everything.

The End.

faun

2011-04-13T08:59:00.000-04:00

killdren

2011-03-31T17:48:00.001-04:00

ten gallon bird

2011-02-12T11:28:00.002-05:00

man 2

2010-05-18T13:40:00.001-04:00

i win

2010-04-01T10:00:00.000-04:00

Got it. Thanks to everyone who voted.

two-star

2010-03-30T11:44:00.005-04:00

The last thing I should do is the one voluntary function I am compelled to do. I read reviews of my books. All of them. Including the ones on Amazon.com where, at the moment, The Boys is one customer-click away from covering the star spread. I've got the five-stars, I've got the one-stars, and I've got everything in-between, except for the rarest and most elusive of all reviews, the two-star. The two-star review says "I hated this book, but liked the paper stock". It's the "I can't bring myself to kill this book, so I'll abandon it in a forest, instead" award. I want that award. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

tuesday

2010-02-22T11:37:00.004-05:00

I'm happy to announce that The Boys will be released tomorrow, Tuesday, February 23. I have no idea where you'll be able to buy it in the real world, but you can always try the internet.

The Boys received an excellent, thorough review from Betsy Bird, over at A Fuse #8 Production, and a starred review in the latest issue of Kirkus Reviews. Unfortunately, I don't have a subscription to Kirkus, so I can't link to the full review. This is what it says:

It’s a new town for a baseball-loving protagonist. Newman wastes not a moment, setting the stage with the title page: A lone moving truck chugs along a house-lined street, skyscrapers looming above. A white spread possessing only one word, ‘Tuesday,’ greets readers, with single brush strokes and blocks of color denoting a glove, a ball, a bat and a solitary boy lacing up his shoes. But the anticipated game is not to be, as the shy hero watches the sport longingly from afar. Crest fallen, he sits by a set of elderly men, and baseball dreams are traded for books, then costumes, as the child determinedly tries to stay on the bench of retirees until the old-timer’s ball game reawakens the boy’s confidence. Effective visual storytelling realizes the aching love players can feel for the game, and in one lovely, lonely beat, the boy’s self-imposed rejection turns to resolve, as the tyke asks to join in a kids game. Through confident brushwork, done in a stylized 50s modern aesthetic, the artist’s images reveal sports’ deep truths about acceptance, a willingness to try and the intergenerational connections they bring.

I also participated in an interview at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast. Thanks, Jules, for having me as a guest.

On a personal note (which every post on this blog is, I guess) I want to say to my family and friends, and especially to my wife, Jodi, who, although she probably wouldn't describe herself this way, is the most patient person I've ever met, that I couldn't have finished The Boys without your encouragement.

I promise the next one won't take so long.

werewolf

2010-02-12T01:48:00.000-05:00

soldier

2009-11-11T13:12:00.001-05:00

pipe

2009-11-10T08:40:00.000-05:00

wildebeest

2009-10-21T08:31:00.000-04:00

gary chocolate-bear may have/might have eaten bread

2009-03-02T15:16:00.003-05:00

Gary Chocolate-Bear, by a strange confluence of non-events, namely non-events of the never-eating-bread kind, had never eaten bread. At some point between when he first never ate bread, and when he, at the time of this story, which isn’t so much a story as it is not a story, had never eaten bread, Gary developed an irrational fear that America’s favorite sandwich bookends would, upon ingestion, turn him rabid. And when Mrs. Chocolate-Bear confronted her husband over breakfast about his peculiar belief by reciting Eleanor Roosevelt’s maxim that a person should do one thing that they fear to do every day of their lives, Gary simply responded that he was “sure she didn’t mean ‘eat bread’, though.”

Coincidentally, Gar (I call him Gar) was right. Eleanor Roosevelt, as Mrs. Choclolate-Bear was well aware, being an amateur Rooseveltologist, indeed meant everything but ‘eat bread’. Furthermore, she (Mrs. Chocolate-Bear, not Mrs. Roosevelt) knew that Eleanor Roosevelt meant everything but ‘eat bread’ because she herself (Mrs. Roosevelt, not Mrs. Chocolate-Bear) inexplicably contracted Rabies after eating what was evidently Rabies-inducing bread at her husband’s inaugural banquet. Mrs. Chocolate-Bear (not Mrs. Roosevelt), wisely, in my opinion, mentioned none of this to her husband, neither at that particular breakfast, nor at his inaugural banquent. Did I say banquent? I meant banquet.

Point is, Gary Chocolate-Bear never ate bread. Unless you consider a scone, bread.

Then, never mind.

The End.

litter

2009-01-25T12:11:00.002-05:00

jekyll

2009-01-13T23:17:00.000-05:00

hyde

2009-01-12T21:36:00.003-05:00

legs

2008-11-05T13:33:00.001-05:00

trap

2008-10-16T10:16:00.000-04:00

live from the bottom shelf

2008-10-14T08:16:00.004-04:00

It's up. Thanks, Minh!

wichita lineman

2008-10-07T07:16:00.005-04:00

A few months ago, in the dead zone of Newmanpicturesblog, Minh Le, or rather, Roscoe P. Hargrove, over at Bottom Shelf Books posted a hilarious and weirdly insightful critical analysis of Hippo! No, Rhino that is one of the coolest souvenirs I've collected (insofar as one can collect a piece of the Internet) from my short children's book career. I emailed Minh to let him know how much I liked it, and that led to an interview that we just finished up last week, in which we talk about all sorts of things, including the song I want played at my funeral. It might be Wichita Lineman. And then again, it might not. I'll post a link once it's up.

box

2008-10-04T00:09:00.002-04:00

i love your (my) blog

2008-10-01T18:46:00.047-04:00

Since my writing skills have admittedly worsened in the last four months, I find it difficult to put into words my thanks to Matt Cordell for tagging me with this "I love your blog" award. And I mean it. I really can't remember which words to use, or how to string them together, grammatically. If anyone can help me construct a note of appreciation, you'll be rewarded with a letter from me, written by you, expressing my heartfelt gratitude.

Now, I don't know where this award originated, but it's an award, and that's good enough to satiate my ego demons until the next full moon. As I understand it, I now have to pass this award along to seven other blogs, or I will die.

Here are the blogs (asterisk = not safe for kids):

1) *The Adventures of Blanco Niño
2) *Things My Boyfriend Says (tragically cut short, presumably because the author stopped dating her boyfriend)
3) *Greenspeak
4) *Ralph Snart
5) The {Prefix}iest Thing I Saw Today
6) E is for Eric
7) John K Stuff

Of course, my love does cost a thing, so functioning blogs that I mentioned, listen up. According to the official rules crafted by the faceless and probably sinister entity that also created this award, rules which have been passed down through potentially thousands of anonymous hands, calling into question their very authenticity and value, you must:

1) Add the logo of the award to your blog
2) Add a link to the person who awarded it to you
3) Nominate at least seven other blogs
4) Add links to those blogs on your blog
5) Leave a message for your nominees on their blogs

Failure to comply will result in you not publicly admitting that you love other blogs. Not death. I lied about that to get you to do it.

neck

2008-09-26T16:08:00.001-04:00

"the blasted treeline"

2008-09-23T13:50:00.009-04:00

day two

2008-09-23T06:40:00.005-04:00

God, this is hard.

But at least something happened to me yesterday, so I can write about that. If I can remember what is was. I mean, I know something happened. I made a mental note to the effect of "blog about this tomorrow", but I guess the note should have been about what it was, rather than its noteworthiness. Or maybe the note should have been half about the nature of the event, and half about its importance, because if I just remembered the event, instead of remembering to write about it, I'd be in the same boat I'm in now. Then again, if it was an event of note, I probably wouldn't need to remind myself to write about it. I'd just write about it.

What was I talking about?

writing season

2008-09-22T09:27:00.003-04:00

You know how, when you stop doing something, like writing, for instance, or you only intermittently do that thing, like occasionally writing a dumb story about a family that goes to the moon, you start to forget how to do that thing. You know, like writing, for instance? Yeah, well, I didn't forget how to write. I just wanted to know if that's ever happened to you. That's all.

See, I can totally write. I just haven't. I just didn't want to for the past four months, because it was, like, summer and everything. And that's the only time I can do squat thrusts on the beach and bench and stuff. It ain't easy to write with your hands wrapped around sixty pounds of cold steel. That's sixty pounds in EACH HAND, btw. Go ahead, try it. I'll wait.

What'd I tell you, bro? I don't lie.

But now that it's fall, I might give this writing thing another go. If I don't find something better to do.

gun

2008-08-13T21:31:00.006-04:00

doctor weaselbomb

2008-08-07T10:41:00.000-04:00

chocolate-bears go to the moon

2008-08-07T10:37:00.006-04:00

On Thursday morning, the papers announced that Gary Chocolate-Bear and his family would be the first Chocolate-Bears in space.

“Congratulations on the moon trip, Gary”, said Ronald Tewilliger, the Chocolate-Bears neighbor, as Gary was leaving for his job at the sewer factory.

“Thanks, Tewilliger”, replied Gary, and he drove into Tewilliger’s mailbox with his Hummer. The Hummer was Gary’s first big purchase from the endorsement money the Chocolate-Bears had received for winning the space contest. Oh, and he hated Tewilliger. That part is important since it would seem odd, based on their brief exchange, for Gary to have reacted in such a manner, unless it was an accident, which I’m telling you it wasn’t. He hated him. It doesn’t matter why.

The space contest, or the Space Race, as the Chocolate-Bears had come to call it, was just that: a race. So it really was neither strange nor clever that they referred to it as such. As it turns out, millions of Americans were doing the same thing, including most of the press. But by a rare coincidence, none of these people happened to know the Chocolate-Bears, nor did anyone in the family read the phrase in print, or hear it on television, so they were unaware that their "beats were stale", to quote a great, fictional doctor and part-time deejay.

Now, as I said, this contest, the contest won by the Chocolate-Bears, was a race, and in particular it was a race from Boston Harbor to the beaches of Peniche, Portugal, sponsored by Crest. The contestants were not allowed to use boats or planes, or any means of transportation other than their own limbs; however, they were allowed to carry with them as many tubes of toothpaste as they could manage. And it was this gift of hygiene that cost the lives of several hundred entrants, including the Chocolate-Bear’s youngest, Trudy, who, like her fellow departees, used her fingers to brush instead of swim. Mrs. Chocolate-Bear lamented the family’s loss in a brief, impromptu, floating funeral, claiming that “it was worse’n when somebody gits hit by a truck wearin’ durty drawers”, because, let’s face it, no tooth has ever been cleaned with a finger brush no matter how vigorous the scrubbing, and to meet one’s fate with a scuzzy mouth is probably the worst thing that could ever, ever happen to anyone, anywhere. But the Chocolate-Bears had entered the Space Race with great determination to win, and at all costs. And they did. I said that at the beginning of this story, and again in the first sentence of this paragraph.

And now the four Chocolate-Bears, previously known as the five Chocolate-Bears, were going to the moon. The moon, where seldom man has tread.

And they did.

The End.

mike and jeff

2008-07-30T21:20:00.000-04:00

coyote

2008-04-30T23:22:00.001-04:00

true story

2008-04-30T20:56:00.008-04:00

I'm getting married in just over a week, so things have been pretty hectic, lately. On top of the typical wedding stuff that most couples have to deal with, Jodi and I are doing the design and signage work for the whole event, ourselves. Okay, Jodi's doing most of the design work. Okay, all of the design work. But I am contributing the cover of our ceremony program, a comic stip relating the bizarre but true story of how we met. It's a little ditty I call "Modern Love".

skull 3

2008-03-28T13:16:00.000-04:00

double date

2008-03-26T10:11:00.002-04:00

Last Wednesday, I drove down to Chicago to meet with Aaron Reynolds, who's writing the next book I'm illustrating, The Carnivore Club. We had a serious discussion about, among other things, animals wearing hats, and the comedic principle that a shark getting wheeled around in a bathtub is funnier than a shark walking on its fins (originally proposed by Sid Caesar, I believe), before heading out for dinner at a place called Carnivale. I always have a tough time distinguishing between various Latin cuisines, but the abundance of plantain and pork products on the menu clued me in that restaurant was probably Cuban-themed. In any case, they made the best raspberry mojito I've ever tasted. Yum.

The following Saturday, I was in the car again, this time heading to the fabled Brat Stop, where, for the second time, I lunched with my boy Matt Cordell. He brought along a couple of books by Saul Steinberg and Jean-Jacques Sempé that were just jaw-dropping, along with some samples of his own work which are nothing to sneeze at, either. Here's an image from his upcoming picture book, TOOT! TOOT! ZOOM! (written by Phyllis Root, to be published by Candlewick in the Spring of 2009):

home slice 1

2008-03-24T18:03:00.000-04:00

reggie veggie head

2008-03-10T15:27:00.002-05:00

Here's a little picture that slipped through the cracks during the whole Omro Oeuvre thing. My apologies to Mr. Wrage.

2008-03-10T10:37:00.022-05:00

The Boys is in the can. My vacation is over. Work beckons. And now that contracts have been signed, I can finally talk about what's on my "to do" list for the next several months (and beyond).

First up is a picture book called The Carnivore Club. It's about a self-loathing trio of meat-eaters (including the Timber Wolf, below) that band together to confront their secret shame. I'm sure I'm making it sound funnier than it is.

Aaron Reynolds (Chicks and Salsa) is writing it, I'm (Hippo! No, Rhino) drawing it, and Chronicle Books is ponying up the cash to bind it all together in a flippable format. I'll be heading down to Chicago next week to meet the author for the first time (a rare opportunity in this business, especially when you live in the Midwest), so I'll be sure to report back on how it went.

After that comes my second book with Simon & Schuster (publisher of The Boys), which will either be called It's Mouse in the Morning...Starring Mouse!, or What's That Up Ahead?, depending on which idea gets the thumbs up from my editor. On the other hand, he could squash both of them, and send me back to the drawing board. But as I'm legally required to make another book for S&S, you can count on seeing something in the intervening years between now and the end of my life.

Last but not least, I'll be illustrating Joseph Bruchac's Rabbit's Snow Dance for Dial. Everything I know about this book I learned from the plot summary on my contract (it's the story of how the rabbit got its fluffy tail), which goes to show you the level of discrimination I exhibit when selecting jobs. Still, I hear the author's good, and snow is easy to paint.

More news as it develops.

steven l. 9

2008-02-27T18:38:00.001-05:00

joker

2008-02-17T22:00:00.002-05:00

nice try, roscoe jenkins

2008-02-17T20:41:00.002-05:00

Thursday was Saint Valentine's Day here in the Milwaukee, and perhaps where you live, as well. It was also the day that I mailed off the illustrations for my third picture book, The Boys, and the day I did not see box office sensation Welcome Home, Roscoe Jenkins.

Now, you might be asking yourself, "How can he equate the achievement of completing a book to the achievement of not seeing box office sensation Welcome Home, Roscoe Jenkins?" To which I might respond "I didn't. That's why I mentioned Roscoe Jenkins second."

Look, I am definitely more proud of finishing the book than not seeing Welcome Home, Roscoe Jenkins. The Boys took four years of my life to complete. It just so happens that on the last day of those four years, something else of note didn't happen. And why shouldn't I be proud of that? I mean, have you seen the ads for this thing? If you can resist the wild-eyed antics of funnyman Martin Lawrence, then you would have been a better man than me had I not also resisted the wild-eyed antics of funnyman Martin Lawrence.

But don't for a moment think that I think not seeing Welcome Home, Roscoe Jenkins is as noteworthy an event as turning in my book. It was a much more rewarding experience in just about every way imaginable, except in the way that it was not another potentially hilarious movie in which Mo'Nique slaps some fool for disrespecting her I didn't see, despite commercials compelling me to do otherwise. And I'm going to celebrate by taking the entire day I didn't see Big Momma's House 2* off.

*formerly President's Day.

hot poop 2

2008-02-01T21:42:00.002-05:00

What, whaaat? The second episode of Hot Poop, the Internet's eight-hundred and forty-second celebrity commentary show, is now ready to pop up out your hamper, and make y'all scamper. Get familiar by clicking on the link.

hot poop 2

car 2

2008-01-26T23:24:00.001-05:00

lion

2008-01-22T10:20:00.002-05:00

condiments

2008-01-01T23:12:00.000-05:00

we wish you a very special blog post

2008-01-01T23:11:00.001-05:00

Happy New Year, everyone.

Firstly, I want to apologize for not being around, lately. And secondly, I want to apologize for apologizing for that. It seems to me that when people apologize for not keeping up to date on their blog, that apology post is sometimes their last. I assure you that won't be the case, here, even though I've just undermined that sentiment by writing an apology post. Which means this may or not be my last post, although I can give you a guarantee of questionable merit that it won't be.

The third and final order of business is to announce the winner of the latest The Great Shroogly-Dunk Giveaway: it's Missy from Minneapolis, Minnesota, and The [Prefix]iest Thing I Saw Today! As with all but one of the previous Giveaways, the winner was also the sole entrant, proving conclusively that it's almost impossible to lose this contest, so much so that it actually makes me angry at you—yes, all of you—for not winning in the past, and pre-angry at you for not winning in the future. If you are a future winner, please e-mail me at jeff@newmanpictures.com, to let me know if we come out on top in the coming robot war, or if, in a cruel twist, we become servants to the machines that once served us.

fun with mad libs

2007-12-09T20:06:00.000-05:00

the brat stop

2007-12-09T09:48:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I drove thirty miles south to Kenosha, Wisconsin to have lunch with Matthew Cordell, an author and illustrator from Gurnee, Illinois, and a fellow contributor to this year's Robert's Snow: For Cancer's Cure, at a place just off Highway 94 called The Brat Stop. As you may or may not be aware, the frequency with which bratwurst is consumed in the upper Midwest is alarming, hence a restaurant named for the sausage, and this picture I took in a gas station parking lot last summer:

But I digress.

Matt and I had a great time talking shop (which I don't get to do nearly enough). You can check out some of his fantastic work here.

pencilchutes

2007-12-07T16:33:00.000-05:00

night of the living great shroogly-dunk giveaway

2007-12-07T14:44:00.000-05:00

I've been away. We'll get into it later. Or not.

At any rate, I'm back, and I want to give you two Shroogly-Dunks.

What are Shroogly-Dunks, you ask? Well, once upon an altered reality, they were known as Shrinky-Dinks. But there was...an incident, and now they've always been Shroogly-Dunks. It's a long story. All you really need to know is that they're little plastic chips with drawings on them.

In order to receive said Shroogly-Dunks, you must be the first person with a valid mailing address to send an e-mail, with the subject line "dink", to jeff@newmanpictures.com. You must not be someone who could describe my face to a police sketch artist without referring to a photograph, or someone who's won this contest before (thanks for the reminder, Kyle). If this turns out to be you, then two weeks after your email is received (longer if you reside outside the United States), an envelope will arrive at your residence. Whatever you do, do not open this envelope. The following day, another envelope will be delivered. That's the one carrying your Shroogly-Dunks. You'll know you've opened the wrong one if you explode.

Newmanpicturesblog is in no way affiliated with Shroogly-Dunks or K & B Innovations, Inc., and does not account for the aesthetic tastes of any potential entrant when crafting prizes.

vampire

2007-12-01T08:44:00.000-05:00

vulture

2007-11-16T10:04:00.001-05:00

captain

2007-11-05T09:39:00.002-05:00

pumpkin

2007-10-28T23:52:00.000-05:00

sesame strip 2

2007-10-24T23:56:00.000-04:00

pickle with powers

2007-10-24T13:26:00.000-04:00

With a heavy heart, Newmanpicturesblog presents the final part of the most exhaustive collection of stories about dogs and pickles and t-shirts ever commited to paper, then commited to Photoshop, then commited to the Internet. It's been real...or has it? Kaden's "Pickle With Powers" has me wondering...

graveyard

2007-10-20T13:41:00.000-04:00

my new favorite song

2007-10-20T00:40:00.001-04:00

"Still Alive", by Jonathan Coulton, from Valve Corporation's recently released video game, Portal. I'm being so sincere right now.

a year of reading

2007-10-19T09:10:00.001-04:00

So, about my Robert's Snow snowflake...actually, all about it, along with some little known facts about the origin of Hippo! No, Rhino, a plot description of The Boys, and even a word or two about my hairstyle fixation, can be found today at A Year of Reading! Many thanks to Franki for hosting me, and for the very, very complimentary words about my work.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and tell myself I'm worthless for the next hour, just to even things out.

van

2007-10-17T23:20:00.000-04:00

"you don't ever do that!"

2007-10-17T23:13:00.000-04:00

A couple of Halloweens ago, my then-girlfriend asked me if I wanted to go to a haunted house with her. I agreed, but with reservations. Haunted houses, and we're talking about the temporary kind that advertise in the local paper around Halloween, scare me. They might even scare me more than actual haunted houses, because, unlike ghosts in an actual haunted house, the residents of "Mister McFright's Terror Mansion," are paid (or, much worse, volunteer) to freak you out. I told her as much.

"Don't worry," she said. "I promise to protect you."

And foolishly, I believed her.

It was only a week later, while being stalked by fake monsters in a formerly abandoned South Milwaukee office building, that I realized her promise meant squat. Not only did she fail to intercept any incoming frights, but she eventually got tired of me trying to use her as a human shield, and ditched me in a dark hallway all by my lonesome.

The hallway was little more than two enormous pieces of plywood propped on their sides, and a third, smaller piece of wood, about five feet square, that had been grafted onto the left wall at the far end of the hallway. I was under no illusion that it was anything other than a trap, that should I walk by that makeshift door (and I was certain that it was a door), it would burst open, and a surgeon with a bloody, rubber saw would pounce on me. But I had come too far to go back. I had to go on. So, I did what any half-insane, borderline feral man-child would do. I ran to the door as fast as I could and slammed my entire body up against it.

I immediately felt someone (or something?) push at the door from the other side. I didn't budge. The longer I held the door in place, the more insistent the pushing became. Still, I held my ground. I was not going to let this happen. I was not going to allow whatever wanted to get out, to get out.

Then came the sounds: a muffled roar of fury, followed by shrieks and curses the likes of which have seldom been uttered this side of Hell. The pushing gave way to a pounding. The door creaked under the onslaught of beating fists (or hooves?). I stood, paralyzed with fear, desperately wanting to run, but unwilling to move lest the terror behind the wall escape.

Suddenly, and at great odds to my current predicament, a calm swept over me, which I understand now to be the sense of peace that coincides with one's acceptance of inevitability. No matter what choice I made, I was doomed. I was just one man. I couldn't hold out forever.

Wearily, I peeled my sweaty back from the door, and turned to face my executioner.

The door exploded outward, revealing, as I'd expected, a pitch-black cavern that undoubtedly led to the Fiery Chasm itself. And from its depths marched a four and a half foot, sobbing teenage boy in a plastic demon mask and a brown velour track suit. He raised a shaking finger at me.

And this is what he said:

"You don't EVER do that!"

The next day, I broke up with my girlfriend.

amazing dog

2007-10-15T14:34:00.000-04:00

We've reached the penultimate chapter in the dog-pickle-t-shirt anthology, Auralea's "Amazing Dog". Or as I like to call it, "Merely Helpful Dog Without a Pickle or a T-Shirt as Should Have Been Included as per the Assignment Parameters."

ghost

2007-10-10T20:37:00.000-04:00

the cat voice

2007-10-10T12:24:00.000-04:00

I'm not a traditional blogger, in the sense that I don't use this blog as a personal diary. The reason for that is because I find my day-to-day experiences mostly dull, with the occasional weird moment thrown in to keep me from hanging myself in the shower (sorry, kids). So, I try to stick to making new things (drawings, stories, so on) based on my experiences, rather than reliving them blow by blow.

Since the beginning of October, as you may have noticed, I have not produced a single post. That's because real life has been happening way too much. For instance, last Wednesday:

Which got me wondering a) how long I could live on my savings, b) how I could possibly find such a sweet job stuffing envelopes ever again, and c) if the five-second rule applies to a hamburger dropped in a garbage can. But I didn't want to write about that, because how is that interesting in any way, and why the hell would I want to dwell on it?

And then, the next day:

For the record, this wasn't for anything felony-related. I was two days late with a tax installment payment. Apparently, this grants the government the authority to kill you.

Fortunately, I cried and got them to take pity on me. Unfortunately, I didn't stop crying for three days, and that made it difficult to want to do anything except watch Beauty and the Geek and eat Bugles and talk to the cat in the cat voice.

But I'm feeling much better, now.

hand

2007-09-30T00:21:00.001-04:00

gunpowder city

2007-09-28T18:47:00.001-04:00

Gunpowder city went kabloo
In the year of our Lord two thousand-two.
O, what a sight it was to see
Blessed be, artillery.

the dog that wondered which is the real pickle

2007-09-26T00:49:00.000-04:00

The nineteenth story from the Omro Elementary second-graders is Max's "The Dog That Wondered Which is the Real Pickle".

SPOILER ALERT:

It's not the black one.

boat

2007-09-25T17:11:00.000-04:00

poof

2007-09-20T15:40:00.000-04:00

As I was telling Missy over at The [fill in the prefix]est thing I saw today, I witnessed something this morning that's right up her alley: an unattended boombox on top of a newspaper stand in downtown Milwaukee, cranked all the way up, and playing "Promises, Promises" by 80's greats Naked Eyes. And just below that: an empty coat on the sidewalk. God, this is a cruel world.

robert's snow

2007-09-19T18:33:00.000-04:00

If you're looking to help out a worthy cause, and take home an original holiday ornament from one of your favorite picture book illustrators, please visit Robert's Snow: For Cancer's Cure, an online auction supporting The Dana Farber Cancer Institute. Bid on one, bid on many, but keep in mind that my snowflake is the only one to feature a Christmas tree-styled hairdo. I'm just saying, is all.

knish

2007-09-14T11:19:00.000-04:00

I don't know who wrote this, I don't know what it's called, but I'll tell you this much: I could really go for a knish. While I look for a kosher deli, please check out Untitled's "Untitled".

steven l. 8

2007-09-13T19:58:00.000-04:00

number two

2007-09-13T11:37:00.000-04:00

I've got this thing on my blog called Site Meter (if you blog, you've probably got it, too, or something like it), and it lists, among other information, all the URLs through which people link to this site. It seems that several visitors have found it by Googlin' the words "pickle dog", which, I think you'll agree, is kind of a weird thing to search for (though perhaps less weird than "smell of boobs", another search that has led one or two folks to this page). So, today, I did some investigating (by which I mean I typed two words and clicked a button), and found that Newmanpicturesblog is number two in Google search engine rankings for "pickle dog". Number two! I don't know what that means, but I am honored, nonetheless.

Thank you, people probably looking for this, the number one ranked "pickle dog" site, or perhaps some savory tubed meat, for giving Newmanpicturesblog its moment in the sun.

next stop

2007-09-12T14:01:00.000-04:00

Thanks to my awesome wife-to-be, I'll be attending the thirty-first Keene State College Children's Literature Festival at the end of October. I'm really excited to get back to the East Coast to see some family and friends, visit with other authors, illustrators, and picture book enthusiasts, and check in on my owl. If you've got some extra cash and live in the area, come on down. We'll do lunch.

jeff and the dog

2007-09-05T20:39:00.000-04:00

Outside of a few Pagan ritual mishaps, bone fires are responsible for approximately zero deaths throughout history. Lest we grow complacent, however, comes Will with a reminder that we can never be too scared of things that will probably never happen. Here's his story, "Jeff and the Dog."

sneak peek

2007-08-30T23:31:00.000-04:00

Here's a sneak peek at a finished illustration from my next picture book, The Boys:

a potato sings

2007-08-28T18:04:00.000-04:00

the dog show

2007-08-24T15:10:00.000-04:00

No dogs were made to jump through a flaming hoop in the making of Marissa's "The Dog Show." What a gyp.

lobster

2007-08-22T14:16:00.001-04:00

hot poop

2007-08-18T15:41:00.000-04:00

Jodi and I have been discussing starting our own celebrity-centric Internet show for a while now, and tonight, we finally got down to business. Volume fluctuations and frequent use of the letter 'p' aside, we hope you enjoy the first episode of Hot Poop.

hot poop

steven l. 7

2007-08-14T15:37:00.001-04:00

wino

2007-08-08T13:08:00.000-04:00

ross zellman's midnight sermon

2007-08-07T18:14:00.001-04:00

ross zellman's midnight sermon

hand

2007-08-04T00:01:00.001-04:00

dolls

2007-08-02T01:39:00.000-04:00

dolls

vespa

2007-08-02T01:05:00.001-04:00

Last night, my brother called me all bent out of shape. Seems someone turned his parked Vespa ninety degrees (so that it was perpendicular to the curb, instead of parallel to it) in order to make more room for a Cadillac. Naturally, he called the police. I thought better of telling him he was overreacting, because he's perpetually stressed out and, as this incident illustrates, liable to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation.

Instead, I recorded part of our exchange for my first attempt at audio blogging. Click on the link below to hear my response to his account.

vespa

steven l. 6

2007-08-01T19:34:00.001-04:00

in the woods up north

2007-07-30T13:35:00.001-04:00

Both hunters and hunted alike agree: Taylor's "In the Woods Up North" is "the most explosive story of the summer (Dead Squirrel, Dead Squirrel in a Stew Pot Monthly)", and "a real trip...pack your bags (Eustas X. Jones, The Crazy Old Hermiter)!".

late breaking news

2007-07-28T17:25:00.001-04:00

jeff goldblum hurt me in a way i'm not prepared to talk about

2007-07-18T14:25:00.001-04:00

For the last time, Nanny: I don’t want to talk about it. We’ve put the whole thing behind us. What? No. Forget it. I just finished telling you how painful it was, and now you want me to relive the entire excruciating ordeal? I’m not the one who brought it up! Forget it. No. Can we please change the subject?

What's that supposed to mean? Sure, Caitlin's fine. Of course she’s fine. Because she's my wife, Nanny. Why wouldn’t she be fine? Everyone’s fine. Everything’s perfect. The neighborhood is perfect. The new house is perfect. White picket fence. We love it. Yes.

Who told you about that? It’s nothing. Why would he tell you about that? It’s nothing. I can’t believe he’d tell you about that. Why does he care? It’s a gap. There’s a gap beneath the back door that’s letting all these flies into the kitchen. That’s it. Someone’s coming to take a look at it next week. End of story.

Why would you say something like that? It’s not ironic. It’s a coincidence, at best. Irony is...hold on...a literary or rhetorical device, in which there is a gap or incongruity between what a speaker or a writer says and what is generally understood, either at the time, or in the later context of history. What’s that? How does the reliability of Wikipedia pertain to this conversation? How do you even know about Wikipedia? What were you doing in a chat room for Dungeons & Dragons?

My point is, why would you go out of your way to say something like that? So what if everyone was thinking it? I can’t stop people from thinking things. You’re right, I can’t stop people from saying things, either, but I can hang up the phone. I’m entitled to hang up my phone. No, it’s not a threat...no, it’s not not a threat according to Wikipedia. Damn it, Nanny, it doesn’t matter that Jeff Goldblum was in The Fly! It matters that you’d feel the need to say that he was in The Fly, and that it’s ironic that we have a fly infestation in the kitchen, which it isn’t. It’s a coincidence, at best.

Because it’s cruel. Yes, it is. Yes, it is. Yes, it is. Beef Stroganoff. Yes, it is.

I’m upset because you won’t drop it. What do you want me to say? You want to hear how I can’t even watch Independence Day anymore without getting sick to my stomach? Nanny? You know how much I love Independence Day. Every time I hear Bill Pullman’s final speech to the Air Force, I feel like hijacking a crop duster and crashing it into an alien mothership. Besides Tootsie and Solarbabies, there aren’t too many movies that can make me want to to kill extraterrestrials.

Say again?

Yes, he was good in Spaceballs, too. No, not Spaceballs 2. They never made Spaceballs 2.

knight

2007-07-17T17:58:00.001-04:00

the dog with a black shirt with a pickle

2007-07-16T15:00:00.000-04:00

Put your fingers together for "The Dog With a Black Shirt With a Pickle", by Talia. Can you dig it?