An interview with Devin Grayson

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By Shane Dingman

Continued from page 10

In terms of acting: Is the dramatic thespian urge in a lot of creators, writers and pencillers, and are comics particularly suited to express that theatrical desire?

I don’t know about the pencilers, but yes, several writers I’ve spoken to have confessed a long love affair with the dramatic arts. And I don’t think you have to narrow it down to comics — acting and fiction writing are kissing cousins. In acting, you give your body over to a character, let them inhabit your skin, move your muscles, speak through your mouth. Fiction writing is the same, only this time you’re offering your mind and experiences and powers of observation. But both jobs are about listening for truth and then expending inordinate amounts of energy bringing the metaphors forward as living, breathing characters and stories. Great actors and great writers both talk about a sort of possession, a willingness to give themselves over to this other world and its inhabitants. I studied acting quite seriously up until college, and I still rely regularly on the characterization exercises I learned in the theater to help me create characters in writing. In fact, I’ll go as far as to say that acting classes are one of the single most beneficial things you can do in your effort to become a writer or story-teller.

Talk to me a little about New York, you spent four years there. what do you miss, and why did you move back to California? And generally speaking, which states haven’t you lived in (it seems like it might be a shorter list!)?

I’ve really only lived in California and New York. I was born in Connecticut, but we left before I was two and I don’t remember anything about it. And I lived very briefly in Pennsylvania, but the whole time I was there I was pretty much “in a New York state of mind.” (Though my cat loved the mousing there — she would leave a field mouse for me on the welcome mat almost every single morning. Here in Oakland she comes racing in with a raccoon on her heels — can’t be quite as much fun).

I went to college in upstate New York and moved to San Francisco after that because both my girlfriend and I had spent our teenage years in Northern California and it was a place in which we felt comfortable and thought we could make a go of it. We also both had family in California, though at the time I’m not sure how much of a draw that was.

The second time I moved to New York it was in direct response to the comics industry. I’d been working for editors at DC for about two years and really wanted to meet everyone and be part of “the scene.” Writers and artists working in comics live absolutely everywhere, but there’s no doubt that being able to stop into the DC or Marvel offices on a regular basis is helpful. It was also a nice way to take the edge off the loneliness — I think most aspirants have no idea how isolating it can be to work as a freelance artist. Whether you’re writing or creating visual art, you’re spending weeks at a time completely alone with your work in a home office or some such. No one ever walks by the water cooler, there’s no one to go to lunch with, you never meet anyone new. You just talk to editors and artists on the telephone once or twice a week and spend the rest of your days with your head down and pencil (or keyboard) in hand. So being in New York meant, for me, that I got to feel a part of the team in a more concrete, social way. I could go in for lunch or hang out in the offices in the afternoon and annoy the editors to my heart’s content. Local artists and visiting writers would come in and out for meetings or to drop off their work — I found that experience very galvanizing.

It also meant that people who were work colleagues could become friends. My very first day visiting the DC offices, for instance, Phil Jimenez stopped by and swept me off to lunch and it was so kind of him and so much fun. Later Denny O’Neil and I got in the habit of going to lunch two or three times a month, and of course we’d talk about work a little, but we were also both vegetarians and students of Buddhism and skeptical idealists, and it was so cool to be able to get to know and befriend him on that level. I mean, the first time I met him I was shaking in my boots! He’s a legend and, as it turns out, he’s somewhat shy, which in an office setting usually plays as quiet which, when you’re a newbie freelancer, you’re likely to interpret as disinterest or disapproval. So to see that kind of impassive, serious face break out into a grin suddenly...I still count him among my mentors and all-time favorite people to work for, but he’s also one of my all-time favorite people, and that couldn’t have happened if we hadn’t been in the same state.

Beyond that...New York is...you know, man, New York! There’s no place like it on earth and it really is a place everyone should try to live in at least for a little while and when they’re young enough to recover from it. My mother’s parents were from New Jersey, so NYC had always had a sort of mythical status in my family. My folks lived there for a while before I was born and have all these great stories about the village and all the artists they hung out with, my mom and grandma took me in from New Jersey once when I was nine or ten and we saw a Broadway play and the whole thing...living there as a grownup and getting to make my own discoveries — the roof garden on top of the Met, the castle in Central Park, the walk across the Brooklyn bridge — well, it is Gotham in many ways, so there’s lots to pull on there, and also it’s just an amazing place filled with amazing people and amazing culture. Everyone says that, but you know what? It’s because it’s true. There’s literally an electricity in the air — everyone is on this constant buzz and WAY nicer than you’d guess.

I remember one summer day I was walking out of Central Park after lunch as was a Prototypical New York City Business Man in his three-piece suit. If I had to guess, I’d say he was a lawyer. He leaves the park with his jacket slung over one shoulder and this shit-eating grin plastered across his face, and then literally the moment he passes through the park gate his face hardens into that no-nonsense business scowl, you know, like he was putting the Mean New Yorker mask back on. And I just laughed out loud and said “Dude, I saw that!” and he cracked up and walked at least three more blocks smiling. Everyone in New York is, at some level, aware of the privilege of it, just thrilled to be there (and exhausted and fed up and sick to death of it, too, of course) and once you’re part of that...I don’t know, in a lot of ways it was the least scary place I’ve ever been.

I was living in Brooklyn by the time I decided to move back to Cali. Brooklyn was reminding me a lot of Oakland, where I grew up — both are hardcore sister cities to urban big guns and both are incredibly diverse and surprisingly large and very loyalty-inducing places. I think in some ways, Brooklyn was making me homesick for Oakland. The editors I adored at DC were all leaving the company, I was having some personal issues, and mostly I was feeling like I was ready to start putting down some roots — I really, really wanted to buy a house, which is a major commitment — and as much as I love New York, it became very clear to me very quickly that home would always be the Bay Area — both because of the people here (biological family and even more importantly my “pack,” my true, long-term, non-industry friends) and because even though I just spent two paragraphs raving about New York and still visit every chance I get, the San Francisco Bay Area is the most wonderful, comfortable, exciting, challenging, interesting, diverse place I’ve ever been. Literally every friend I have from another state who visits me here ends up moving here within a year. It’s a pretty incredible place. I bought my house — a 1906 Victorian duplex near Lake Merritt — and I’m here to stay.