Frankenstein’s Support Group


How You Got Your Superpowers


I have such news, folks! SUCH NEWS! News that I CANNOT TELL YOU ABOUT. But know now that it is wonderful news, involving STARDUST.

If you will recall, STARDUST,  is the queer-in-every-sense project that I last spoke about in…January it turns out (being a Professional Creative Person is such a Long Game, innit?). I can’t talk about it because that’s how it goes when you’re working with a major publishing company. But! Know that it is wonderful news that brings the project ever closer to being a Real Thing That You Can Read, which is honestly the best thing a writer can hope for.

It’s still not a sure thing yet–there are so many possible bumps in the road that might derail this queer little buggy, you have no idea–but we did pop some champagne. You gotta take your celebrations where you can.

There’s been two Frankenstein’s Support Group For Misunderstood Monsters comics since the last newsletter. The first is an examination of modern monster-dating conventions and some personal history of FSG’s resident mummy, Imhotep. The second involves Emi helping Ginger spruce up her image.


I decided to do some microfictions on my Twitter yesterday, telling anyone who asked how they got their superpowers. I may do more of this in future, as it was very fun and people seemed to dig it. Here’s all of them, ’cause I wanted ’em all in one place:

They said it was a rock. A cold, dead rock from outer space.

But it couldn’t be. Not to you. Rocks don’t sing. And you had never heard a more inviting song in your entire life.

The sword had been your mother’s, your grandmother’s, all the way down the line to the one who stood by the lake & took it back after King Arthur showed how he was the one man in human history worthy enough to wield it, by returning it.

Now Excalibur is yours.

The aliens were sorry. They didn’t mean to hurt you, but human bodies are so fragile. They didn’t know.

They made it up to you, though. They remade you better. Though “better” to an alien doesn’t quite line up here on Earth…

The jacket was woven with silver thread, like strands of frost. It was cold to touch to everyone. Everyone but you. To you, it was warm as the breath of a old friend.

It was, naturally, a perfect fit.

A version of yourself from an alternate reality gave them to you, just as another had given them to him.

“It’s just the way it’s always done,” he said. “When you don’t need these anymore, you’ll pass them along to the next one.”

Everyone else said the experiment was disaster. A failure. Science ran amok.

But not you. Not when such an “accident” opened up such new and exciting possibilities.

It was shaped like a ring. It’s wasn’t–rings are jewelry, cold gems and gleaming metal. This was something else. Something that pulsed on your finger with an energy you couldn’t begin to comprehend.

It does so much. You can’t imagine taking it off.

A manifestation of the Infinite collapsed in your arms, dying. You held it close as it’s countless eyes darkened, one by one, singing it songs of endless love and boundless hope. It died reassured that some things still go on forever.

And now so do you.

Your long-forgotten imaginary friend returned, panicked and stricken, with key that unlocked the untold power in your heart.

They had hoped this day would never come.

It was, the scientists admitted later, a procedure they never expected you to survive. No one else had.

You were stronger than they gave you credit for. And now you’re stronger than they ever considered.

They said it was a lightning strike, but it couldn’t have been. After all, there was no storm. And it didn’t hurt when it hit you. Quite the opposite.

It was as if you finally felt alive for the first time.

The tattoo just appeared there one morning, after a night of drunken revelry. It was an odd, rune-esque design, but you always felt you could have ended up with worse…

…until the tattoo spoke.

A glowing ball of energy appeared one night when you were 5, hanging in the middle of your bedroom. It spoke to you in a voice full of static, something about how time travel was inexact…better to overshoot…too early…

Overwhelmed with curiosity, you reached out to touch it.

The gloves were metal, but moved like fabric when you put them on, their unyielding surface rippling like liquid over your fingers.

Sometimes you forget you have them on. Sometimes, when you don’t have them on, it feels like something is missing.

Technically, your dog has superpowers, but he lends them to you when danger arises, and you take him with you on adventures.

He’s a good dog.

Each universe chooses a particular place that suits its needs to be born. Some choose the churning, burning middle of a star, others, the freezing emptiness of a black hole.

This one found everything it needed in the middle of your heart.

Some discomfort is to be expected.

It was a book. Left on your doorstep, wrapped in paper that managed somehow be plain and brown while also being shiny and shimmery. Your name was written on the wrapper–misspelled, but definitely your name–and there was no return address.

Of course you read it. Of course.

Once, when you closed you eyes and focused, you could feel yourself reaching out, down, down, through the Earth, grabbing the molten center of the planet in a loving, powerful embrace.

You’ve not let go since.

The weapon was never supposed to be yours. A champion had been chosen, after all.

But when he cast it aside and ran in terror at the coming danger, well, it was just lying there.

SOMEONE had to pick it up and fight.

They say the dead tell no tales, but one did. When you leaned down to kiss your grandmother goodbye one last time in her coffin, she whispered to you secrets about the walls between this life and the next.

She told you how to bend those walls. And how to break them.

Demonic possession gone wrong. At least, that’s according to the cultists.

From your point of view, it turned out very right, indeed.

A lot of kids tied towels around their neck attempting to fly.

Yours just happened to work.

An older you appeared, having traveled back in time, and gave you the powers that they had received when they were your age.

When you ask them where the powers came from originally, they just smiled wryly and said “I didn’t get a satisfying answer to that, either.”

You’ve always had them. You just forgot.

Because sometimes forgetting is easier than remembering.

The strange woman who everyone said was your aunt gave you a wooden box carved to look like a sleeping bat when you were 6, as a thank you for drawing the whole family & making her the tallest.

You couldn’t get it open then. You just found it again yesterday & it opened right up

It was strange bug in the cornfield–something like a caterpillar but neon pink and yellow and covered in spines.

You didn’t want to touch it, but somehow, for some reason, you knew that IT wanted you to.

And when it crawled onto your hand, you understood.

It wasn’t really government property, no matter what your lousy supervisor said. You built it, it’s yours.

And damn if you aren’t going to be the first person to try it out.

It was always going to be you. There were countless prophecies, many foretoldings, and quite a few precognition. It was you. It was always going to be you.

Thing was, nobody bothered to tell you until the last minute.

They told you could do anything if you set your mind to it.

They just never realized how far a mind like yours could go.

Some of these are going have to be real stories at some point. But some of them I quite like just as they are.

Good luck with the dragon.


Up The Wolves

Hello! You look nice today. That makes two of us.

Eagle-eyed readers will note the lack of an Instagram filter in the above folder, and remember back when I sung the praises of blurring out the details so that one can better enjoy the whole. Not using filters is a Big Deal for me when it comes to my appearance. It shouldn’t be, but that’s Trans Life in the 21st century for you. So, what changed? Well, 3 months of hormones, mainly.

I’ve also gotten pretty good with eyeliner, but it’s mostly the hormones.

(This feels a bit weird to talk about, but if I was reading this blog, I would want me to talk about it. Plus, I already posted all of this on social media, so it’s not like this is secret info, or anything.)

Three months on hormones and the results have been absolutely magical. I’ve got noticeable breasts, heavier thighs, smoother skin and my body hair growth has slowed. There’s been some subtle changes to my face, where what few edges I had in my round face have been softened to match the rest of it. Also, my nose has shrunk.

All the cartilage in my body has shrunk. My feet are a size and half smaller than they used to be, and I’m an inch shorter.

Of all the changes, that’s thrown me for a loop the most–I’ve been 5’11” with giant feet since I was 13. And it’s not that one inch or a shoe size is really that big a change, just that it changed at all.

I don’t like to think of myself becoming an entirely new person–though I know a lot of trans folk do, and that distinction is something they need. I wanted to think of this as just another step in who I am, like when I started wearing ties all the time. But when there’s physical changes like this, it’s clear that there’s more going on. I look different than I did a year ago. Not a lot, but it’s there. And the changes are only going to get more pronounced.

This is wonderful and exciting and…scary. It feels like one of those fairy tales where you find out the cost of getting your heart’s desire. I’ll finally be the “me” I always wanted to be, but I’ll have to figure out who she is.

And I suppose that should have been obvious, but it only hit me when these clear physical changes started happening. Blame it on being a visual learner, I guess.

I should add, that this level of change so quickly is not an average experience. In fact, I was mentally prepared for things to take a lot longer. Every body reacts to HRT differently. My body is either very comfortable with change–I used to put on muscle very quickly, too–or this is something my body has been wanting for a long time.

Either way, I’m ecstatic that these changes are happening, and I am looking forward to see where they lead.


Speaking of going through changes, there’s been two Frankenstein’s Support Group for Misunderstood Monsters since my last newsletter. Both of them focus on Ginger, a werewolf variation I’ve really been enjoying writing. Click on the tiles below for Chapter 2:



And Chapter 3:


And of course, there’s always Chapter 1, if you need a refresher.

I really love this comic, and if you love it to, spread the word! The more people see the comic, the longer Quirk will have me do it!


We took Wednesday to Target the other day, and came face-to-face with the merchandising juggernaut that is Star Wars paraphernalia. While fans of anything that has “Star” in the title, our house is mostly free of LucasFilm merch, beyond the odd t-shirt, art book and my hand-crafted lightsabers. All that changed when our darling daughter came face to fuzzy face with a porg. Porgs, for those who don’t know, are little aliens indigenous to the planet Luke Skywalker has been hiding out on, and they are industrial-strength cute. Our daughter could not resist. She grabbed a stuffed plush porg off the shelf and didn’t let go.

This is a pretty mean feat, as Wednesday has just learned how to control the “let go” function of her hands. The porg’s desirableness overwhelmed her love of grabbing things only to drop them. The fact that she held onto it for any length of time is a tribute to the designers.

It also does these little chirping sounds when you squeeze it that make her giggle. So of course, we had to get one.

We’re doomed, aren’t we?


Frankenstein’s Support Group

Oh, wow. Been awhile, hasn’t it? Here, lemme blow all the dust of this newsletter and we’ll see if she still works. Test the gears, pump the breaks, make sure the crystals are still in alignment, all that jazz.

How have you been?

I’ve been spending a lot of time with my new daughter, Wednesday. She’s pretty cool. You’d like her.

But! I’m not here to talk about her!

I’m here to talk about Frankenstein.


Frankenstein’s Support Group For Misunderstood Monsters, to be exact.


It’s a very fun comic I’m doing with Quirk Books, and I hope you dig it.

Oh, and if you do like it, maybe leave a comment on the Quirk website? They’ve been real great about this very, very weird project, so it be nice to show them their faith has not been misplaced.



In case you missed it, the VFPX live show that we did at the Philadelphia Podcast Festival was put on the feed for your listening pleasure.

The Voice of Free Planet X returns to The Philadelphia Podcast Festival with a brand new live show! In an effort to bring an understanding from two sides of an intergalactic conflict, VFPX host Jared Axelrod invites Salamander Keep (Phil Thomas) and Loam Sodden (Andy Holman Hunter) to debate. But how can they when they keep getting interupted by time-traveler Tiff Tock (Lizzy Hindman-Harvey)? And why is the Devil himself, Lucifer, Who Is The Morningstar (Russell G Collins) hanging around in the audience?

From the ends of space to the depths of Hell, The Voice of Free Planet X brings you the universe to the comfort of your seats at Tattooed Mom! Featuring a live musical performance by Gina Martinelli!

A note about the audio: We had some wonderful mics provided for us by Bridge Set Sound, but I wrote an episode that had everyone running all all over the place. So, some parts were not picked up by the good mics, and I’ve edited in bits recorded by my handheld recorder that I had going just in case. I’ve tried to make the edits as unobtrusive as possible, but there is a difference in sound quality.

We had a great turn out–thank you, all who showed up–and PhillyPodFest continues to be the best. Can’t wait until next year!


Seeing as how I’ve been immersed in comics recently, I’ve been wondering if I could I get away with a superhero comic without fight scenes? Where it was all the stuff surrounding the fights, but when one started, it would cut to the end.

“Yay, the hero won! Now back to the interpersonal drama…”

See, Chris Morse got me thinking about Power Rangers, which got me thinking about my sweet, sweet ghost children Ressha Sentai ToQger. who proved that superhero story structure is a lot sturdier than we think, and a lot of parts can be removed & it will still stand up. Which then got me thinking on how much of a standard superhero story I could break. I realize there’s a lot of superhero comics and movies that do this, but they’re either parodies or stripped of all the genre’s glorious weirdness in favor of a more “grounded” approach.

The closest thing to what I’m thinking of is Hannah Blumenriech’s Spidey comics, but I’m not sure if that would work with a totally new character. Maybe it would? I dunno. I’ll stew on it.

Right now, though, I’ve got play with my baby and draw more Frankenstein stories!

Good luck with the dragon.