"What makes a man turn neutral? Lust for gold? Power? Or were you born with a heart full of neutrality?"

Project TROIKA
Three weeks ago tomorrow, K. Steeze I.M.ed me and proposed a partnership: he and I would develop characters and a story based upon a title given him by the Muses and an idea he'd had for a painting. Once satisfied with the fruits of our labor, The Professor would take our framework and author from it a novel. Without a moment's hesitation, I pledged myself to the endeavour to the bitter end. Was this because I recognized a golden opportunity to make a beginning in fulfilling my recent decision to give my all in a sincere attempt to become a professional writer? Nay, though I have since come to regard this effort as such. The truth of it is that my friend asked me and I said yes. Unless I have a substantial reason to decline, I will accede to almost any request made of me by a friend. Is that not one of the pillars of friendship, unconditional aid? Please do not think I am attempting to paint myself as a paragon. I am a wretched tangle of contradictions, but to this simple principle I am a zealot: the reason for friendship is affection, but the foundation of friendship is loyalty. And loyalty requires doing whatever your friends ask of you as long as it is within reason, but most importantly when it is beyond the pale. The old saw, "Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies."

So now I find myself in the familiar but mildly uncomfortable position of collaborating on a creative venture, one that we both intend to see to a successful conclusion. Most likely the Professor, too, making it "all three of us," but he and I have not yet spoken of this and I would not want to put words in his mouth, even though I know how he'd answer.

As aforementioned, working with a partner never been my preference. The reason for this is simplicity itself: I have a massive but prickly ego that bristles at the merest hint of critique. There is a voice within me, residing in the same neighborhood as the dark bastard, that screams, "These are gold-standard ideas! How dare you even question them?!" But I wish to one day write comic books, and yet I cannot draw. It follows, then, that I shall be required to collaborate with artists, to use their amazing talents to breath life into my words. So, I must tame the prickly bastard, and what better opportunity to bring him to heel than in collaboration with my dear friend, an artist whom I deeply admire?

Because of the future copyrighting of "Project TROIKA" material, Steeze has counseled that I refrain from exposing our work to the vagaries and depredations of such a public forum. The Secret Base has ever been and ever shall be an open bloggy blog; I view this as a strength, but it also leaves all that transpires here easy fodder for whatever foul lurkers and skulkers may be abroad. Yet The Secret Base is a source of tremendous catharsis, release quite necessary given the dual stresses of creation and collaborative compromise. I will be blogging about the adventures and misadventures of the coming effort, but never directly, thus the Project TROIKA codename, and I shan't be discussing the work itself, only its geneses, triumphs, and travails. In the parlance of our times, I shall be venting and celebrating, largely without context. How fun for you.

And in closing, an idea of which I was ashamed the very moment it coalesced in my mind: the forerunner of Project Mayhem was Fight Club. What was the forerunner of Project TROIKA, "Write Club"? And speaking of bad ideas, remind me sometime to regale you with the story of The Gargoyle's "Drunk Page." Or ask The Bradman, he lived to tell the tale.

Welcome to Project TROIKA. Grow or die.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Reel Big Fish, "The Bad Guy" from We're Not Happy 'Til You're Not Happy (T.L.A.M.)