Long Story Short ★ with MARK SCOTT RICKETTS

How one creator's hatred of nature led him to stay indoors to make cool stuff!

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Find out how creator MARK SCOTT RICKETTS near-rockstar experience almost deprived us of his writing and art all while battling ticks and the real wildlife in the deep woods of Maine.

BTP: Tell us a little bit about yourself and why you decided to pursue your career as a creative storyteller.

This is me: I was born in Arkansas, was kidnapped by a rock band and moved to Illinois, got married and escaped to Maine. I’ve been a cartoonist, a singer, an illustrator, a comics writer, a children’s book writer, a humorist, a crank, a coffee enthusiast, and a total nerd. My headstone will probably read: 

He never knew what he wanted to do, and he never grew up. Too late now.

Flashback to a high school study hall. See the Freshman doodling in a spiral bound notebook? That’s me. Emulating the comics work of Jack Kirby. My best friend is in the desk next to me, blowing bubblegum bubbles to impress a girl. He dedicates a Guinness Book world record bubble to her. When it POPS!, the noise draws the attention of a prickly teacher/study hall monitor/would-be prison guard. Gum chewing is PROHIBITED on school grounds and this lady is a real stickler for rules. 

My buddy is forced to face his peers, spit the offensive gum into notebook paper, and deposit it in a trash can. He, of course, flashes goofy faces the whole time he’s being reprimanded. This kind of flippant behavior is unacceptable. The agitated teacher/monitor sends my friend back to his desk and tells him to spend the rest of the hour writing an essay explaining his reason for breaking the chewing gum rule. My friend’s bravado is suddenly deflated. He’s a clever, wise-cracking clown, but not much of a writer. 

It’s painful watching my friend struggle — writing, erasing, crossing out lines. I can’t let him suffer, so I help by taking on the project myself. Pencil to paper, I conjure a story about a chewing gum junkie. A heart-wrenching tale of a strung-out kid scoring Black Jack in back alleys. Juicy Fruit high one minute, then undergoing Wrigley withdrawal the next. Stealing packs from stores. Mooching sticks from anyone holding. A wasted, tragic life spent jonesing for his next double bubble fix.

Story finished, I sneakily pass it to him. He copies it in his own handwriting, and hands it in to the teacher/monitor when the bell rings. Chew on that, lady!

My story is a HUGE HIT in the teacher’s lounge. Next day, my friend is asked to read it at a school assembly. The story gets uproarious laughter and thunderous applause. The Teacher/Monitor sends it off to a young writer’s competition and it wins first place. My friend and the Teacher/Monitor travel to the awards presentation.

My buddy’s parents make him place the award money in a savings account. I never see a dime.

I’m jealous of his success. BUT we never tell anyone it was me that actually wrote the story.

Here’s the thing: I may not have gotten the accolades, but that incident did give me the confidence to continue writing and creating. A major step forward. I had goals now. And with my love of drawing, maybe I could BE Jack Kirby. Ha! I wish.

BTP: That’s amazing! You were obviously born to tell stories. Yet, how did you learn to write as well as you did? Were you an avid reader?

When I was a kid, my mother would take me to the library and set me loose. And I was a rabid comics reader. But reading did not make me cool.

I remember a time in high school when my Art teacher caught me reading Whitman’s Leaves of Grass.

Art Teacher: (Lit teacher’s name) has you reading that one, huh?

Me: No. I found it in the library.

Art Teacher: C’mon, you’re not really reading that are you?

Me: I like it.

Art Teacher (shaking head): Right. Sure you do.

A friend came in my college dorm room without knocking.

Friend: Let’s go!

I set the book I was reading aside. My friend picked up the book, opened it, and read the title of a poem.

Friend: In Celebration of My Uterus? Are you —ing kidding me?

Me: Shut up.

Friend: If you’re trying to impress girls, you’re going about it the wrong way.

There is one book I’ve read at least 15 times — One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I love that book and the translation by Rabassa is beautiful. Makes me wonder if the book is even better in its original Spanish.

My graphic novel Nowheresville is chock full of Beat Lit references.

I like books. And yeh, reading fiction and reference books taught me how to write. But just being alive and observant has taught me how to be a creative writer. I have real life stories, baby, I didn’t just have my nose in a book.

I never really studied writing. Well, I took McKee’s Story class after reading his book on screenwriting.

BTP: Who was your first advocate or earliest mentor that helped in your pursuits?

My mother encouraged creativity. My sister wanted to learn piano, so she got lessons. I wanted to be an artist, so my mother enrolled me in an Arts program. Every Saturday morning, we drove from my small town to an Arts Center in the city. After a month of lessons, mostly working with clay, pottery, and wood, the Teacher, a Sculptor, told my mother that I didn’t have what it takes to be an artist. My stubborn mother thought she knew better. She found me a tutor, an old artist who lived nearby. He had bad breath, a terrible disposition, a funny name (Finken), and a German accent that was sometimes difficult to understand. However, he really was a gifted artist. Every session, he would put some Stravinsky on his portable record player and we would draw. 

That crazy old man forced me to see things in ways I hadn’t seen them before. He once took me outside to look at a manhole cover. Before that time, I’d never noticed the graphic design on the Iid that was keeping me from falling into the underground sewer. He also showed me a pencil rubbing he created from tree bark. I thought he was nuts. But he was fascinating. 

I had always had the urge to draw, but it was frustrating. I never could get on the page what I saw in my head. After a few months working with Mr. Finken, I wasn’t just noodling on the page, I was learning to be a somewhat, um, competent artist.

After two years, Finken retired. On our last session, he told me I should consider being an illustrator. “Your lines are very expressive,” he said. “And your fully realized drawings always seem to tell a story.” 

Well, that stuck. 

Many years later, I became obsessed with telling stories. And I eventually turned to other artists (whose work I admired) to realize those stories so I could concentrate on plot, character, etc. 

NOTE: When it comes to three-dimensional expression, I still suck.

BTP: Mentorship is such a lost art. Have you mentored anyone along the way? If so, how did it go?

Not in a personal one-on-one sort of way. I’ve given lectures on comics writing. Answered questions emailed by college students. I get invited to critique at a college portfolio review every year. I’m really not paying it forward, am I?

BTP: When compared to your early work experience do you feel like you were well-educated to step into a role or was there a larger divide between school and actual pipeline production?

I saw school as an opportunity to refine whatever skills I thought I had. And after years of small-town life, it was a revelation to hang with like-minded people. Sure, I partied, pretty hard, but I spent the rest of my time in the pursuit of an Arts education. I didn’t go to school to learn how to survive in the real world, I went to discover myself.

My favorite teacher was an impressionist painter obsessed with Pointillism. He would playfully groan when I questioned him about the choices he made in his work. “How do you know where to put the yellow dots?” It’s not like I had better ideas, I just wanted to see what he was seeing. I learned a lot about color. I also learned something about people, which helped build my writing skills.

While getting high with a teacher after a watercolor class, he told me I should probably drop out of school and pursue a career as an illustrator. He said I should stop wasting my time and get out in the world. He was really high, but I took his advice and dropped out early.

A year later, I got an illustration gig at Playboy magazine.

BTP: Wow…an art teacher telling you to just GO, DO THE THING! How much of a struggle was it until you were finally established? Did you get regular gigs?

It started out easy. It got progressively harder. I had to take on gigs that were offensive to me, just for cash. Here’s the big truth: The business of art sucks!! I’m sorry, but it does. Too many cooks in the kitchen. Too many crooks in your pocket. WAAAHHH!!! I just want to make stuff.

BTP: What are your biggest fears in your career currently and what are you doing to keep those in check?

At age 69, in quiet moments, I worry that I will no longer be relevant. That the world will pass me by. But when I’m in the middle of creating something, even refining something already created, I feel vital, fresh, and totally on point. Hold my beer.

BTP: I struggled with this in my 40s, which I guess was training for my 50s. Nice to know that it’s a monkey on my back for the remainder of my life. How hard is it to get work these days? What helps in your pursuit of financial stability when many of your peers are retiring?

It’s getting tougher. I try not to think about it, I just keep pushing forward. Even if I were rich, I’d still be cranking out art and stories. Can’t help it.

BTP: What advice would you give to your younger self regarding your life’s path thus far?

Hey, dummy! If you’re going to write/draw comics, get a grip on your diet and set aside time to exercise every day. Also, stop sweating small stuff and read these books immediately: Self-editing for Fiction Writers, The Elements of Style, On Writing Well, and On Becoming a Novelist.

BTP: All good books, and good advice. Taking care of ourselves is the best insurance policy we have. One of my favorite places I’ve visited in Maine is Acadia National Park. Just wonderful. Have you hiked around there?

I have. It’s beautiful. All of Maine is beautiful. I’ve written books about my love of the state — a humor title called A Flatlander’s Guide to Maine and a children’s book called Adventures in Vacationland. I also created a webcomic set in Maine. Here’s the kicker: I hate nature. Well, that’s not true. Mostly, I hate ticks.

BTP: Do you have any advice for up-and-coming creatives?

You’ll be surprised how far a healthy ego will get ya.

BTP: This is true. If we didn’t have a certain amount of hubris we might not do the thing we do.

Is this the time when I thank you for forcing me to evaluate my life? Well… thanks a load. No, really, I had fun. Though I probably shouldn’t have been so candid. Oh well.

BTP: Thank you for taking the time, Mark. Let us know what projects you have coming up that you’d like to share, too.

Website: mscottricketts.com

Instagram: marksricketts

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