I took a (cyber) trip to Australia to talk to Dave at the Signal of Doom podcast. We discussed Caped Crusader, the Kraven What If?, my novel Dark Future, and much more. You can listen right here.
Monday, August 31, 2026
Saturday, August 29, 2026
HERE THERE BE DRAGONS!
Dragon Con 2026 is coming up fast. I'll be there Friday, Saturday, and Sunday (September 4th, 5th, and 6th)—meeting fans, signing books and posters, doing panels, and hanging out with my son and daughter, who'll both be around to assist me at my booth. I haven't been to Dragon Con since 2019 and I'm really looking forward to heading back to Atlanta. If you're there, please stop by my table and say hello.
Friday, August 28, 2026
KIRBY DAY 2026
If anyone in the history of comics deserves to be called a genius, it's Jack Kirby: artist, writer, visionary. We all stand on his shoulders.
Like most people too in love with their own opinions, I’m fond of sweeping statements, and one of the sweeping statements I often toss out when the subject of comic books comes up is this: Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, the two formidable talents who forged the Marvel Age of Comics—and, one might argue, all comics that followed—were the Lennon and McCartney of their medium. Rock and roll and comic books were two of my greatest passions growing up and the link has always seemed obvious to me. The Beatles, led by John and Paul, redefined popular music in the sixties, just as Marvel, led by Stan and Jack, redefined comics. (Not that DC was sitting around doing nothing, mind you...any more than Dylan, the Stones and the Who were; but the Beatles and Marvel, at least in this writer’s opinion, were way ahead of the pack.) But all that blew apart when the decade turned.
Those of you too young to have been comics fans in 1970—that tumultuous twelve months of Kent State, student strikes and Richard Nixon’s sweaty upper lip—can’t begin to grasp the impact that three words—”Kirby Is Here!”—had when they appeared on the cover of, believe it or not, Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen. I was sixteen, a devoted Marvel follower, and still naive enough to believe that Lee and Kirby were as inseparable as, well, Lennon and McCartney. Of course 1970 was also the year in which the Beatles publicly disintegrated, as well. “The dream is over,” John Lennon sang—and it certainly was. Across the board. Across the country. The idealism, the optimism, the inspired lunacy of the sixties—which had spread throughout our culture via music, film, novels, and, yes, comics—was beginning to turn sour. Let’s face it: if Stan and Jack, if John and Paul, couldn’t keep it together, what possible chance did the rest of us have? (This sounds incredibly silly now, but, believe me, this was an unbelievably urgent question then. At least to me.)
But the energy and enthusiasm of those years was still pushing us forward and, in some ways, the creative energy of the early seventies surpassed the sixties. Sure, the Beatles were a dead issue, but the music Lennon produced in the years after the split, most notably the brilliant John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band album, was some of the most powerful, important music rock and roll had ever heard. (I told you I was fond of sweeping statements.) And this music was produced as a direct result of Lennon’s boredom with the Beatles, of his pulling away from McCartney’s influence, from the security of success. He danced out on a limb, the limb held, and the result was Art.
The same can be said of Kirby. With Lee, he had taken mainstream comics and turned them inside out, upside down, and left his mark forever (just as he’d already done, in earlier times, with Joe Simon: Kirby, it seemed, never met a revolution he didn’t like). But, as his later Marvel work too clearly showed, he was bored. How many times can the Thing turn against his partners? How often can Loki tiptoe past Odin’s bed and usurp the throne of Asgard? Pretty often—but too often for a restless limb-dancer like Jack Kirby. As with Lennon, Kirby’s vision was unique, singular; and, if his collaboration with Lee (as important to Marvel’s success as McCartney was to the Beatles’; neither man should be underestimated) brought Kirby to new levels, those levels had now been attained, a plateau had been reached, and it was time to move on. Without collaboration. Artists, real artists, tend to burn. When they’ve burned long enough, the smoke starts pouring through their lips and they’ve got to spit the fire out.
In 1970, Jack Kirby jumped from Marvel to DC and started spitting fire. The fire was called The New Gods, Mister Miracle, Jimmy Olsen and Forever People. Books as important to comics as Lennon’s POB album was to rock. Books that opened new doors, set new standards, did things that comics had never dared to do before. New Gods was clearly the most focused, perhaps the best of the bunch; Mister Miracle offered the most flat-out fun; Jimmy Olsen was as wonderfully bizarre, in its way, as those Silver Age stories that featured Jimmy turning into aliens, werewolves and giant turtles. Forever People—which featured Kirby’s cosmic hippies, the embodiment of youth and naivete, idealism and dreams—was my personal favorite; encapsulating, as it did, Kirby’s (and my own) hope for the future. True, the dialogue in these stories was sometimes awkward—but dialogue was never Kirby’s forte. Story-telling was. Spirit was. Vision was. And these stories had them all. They ran, they rambled, they surprised, they exploded. (The language often did the same thing: the dialogue, as noted, may have been clunky, but Kirby’s prose was also so wildly passionate, so utterly idiosyncratic, that it achieved a kind of mad poetic grandeur.)
There seemed no definite beginning, middle, or end; there was just the constant search, the quest for an intangible something that could never be defined. The characters themselves couldn’t be called three dimensional, in the conventional sense, but they existed in a dimension all their own. Orion and Lightray, Scott and Barda, Big Bear, Serafin, Desaad and, perhaps the greatest villain in the history of comic books, Darkseid: these were people that I, as a reader, cared passionately about. I enjoyed their company—and looked forward to their evolution. Unfortunately, for reasons that I’ve never heard adequately explained, that evolution was cut short. With the exception of Mister Miracle (which staggered on for several more issues), all the “Fourth World” titles were axed.
But you can’t kill a dream—and these stories live on, resonating not just through the DC Universe but all of popular culture. The word genius is one that’s often overused, and cheapened by that overuse, but if the comic book business has ever produced a genius, Jack Kirby was it: a genius who taught me that keeping my eyes wide, focused both on the limitless heavens and the infinite universes within the human heart, is the surest way to creating stories that matter.
The “Fourth World” saga was unquestionably Kirby's magnum opus. If you’ve read it before, I urge you to read it again. If you haven’t read it, I urge you to put aside your preconceptions, grab the first volume of the Fourth World Omnibus and surrender to one of the 20th Century’s master storytellers.
©copyright 2026 J.M. DeMatteis
Here's a Kirby tribute I've posted a couple of times before—focusing on Jack's magnum opus, "The Fourth World Saga"—and I post it again in praise of a man whose imagination has inspired generations, and will go on inspiring us for generations to come.
Happy Birthday, Jack—wherever in the cosmos you are!
Like most people too in love with their own opinions, I’m fond of sweeping statements, and one of the sweeping statements I often toss out when the subject of comic books comes up is this: Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, the two formidable talents who forged the Marvel Age of Comics—and, one might argue, all comics that followed—were the Lennon and McCartney of their medium. Rock and roll and comic books were two of my greatest passions growing up and the link has always seemed obvious to me. The Beatles, led by John and Paul, redefined popular music in the sixties, just as Marvel, led by Stan and Jack, redefined comics. (Not that DC was sitting around doing nothing, mind you...any more than Dylan, the Stones and the Who were; but the Beatles and Marvel, at least in this writer’s opinion, were way ahead of the pack.) But all that blew apart when the decade turned.
Those of you too young to have been comics fans in 1970—that tumultuous twelve months of Kent State, student strikes and Richard Nixon’s sweaty upper lip—can’t begin to grasp the impact that three words—”Kirby Is Here!”—had when they appeared on the cover of, believe it or not, Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen. I was sixteen, a devoted Marvel follower, and still naive enough to believe that Lee and Kirby were as inseparable as, well, Lennon and McCartney. Of course 1970 was also the year in which the Beatles publicly disintegrated, as well. “The dream is over,” John Lennon sang—and it certainly was. Across the board. Across the country. The idealism, the optimism, the inspired lunacy of the sixties—which had spread throughout our culture via music, film, novels, and, yes, comics—was beginning to turn sour. Let’s face it: if Stan and Jack, if John and Paul, couldn’t keep it together, what possible chance did the rest of us have? (This sounds incredibly silly now, but, believe me, this was an unbelievably urgent question then. At least to me.)
But the energy and enthusiasm of those years was still pushing us forward and, in some ways, the creative energy of the early seventies surpassed the sixties. Sure, the Beatles were a dead issue, but the music Lennon produced in the years after the split, most notably the brilliant John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band album, was some of the most powerful, important music rock and roll had ever heard. (I told you I was fond of sweeping statements.) And this music was produced as a direct result of Lennon’s boredom with the Beatles, of his pulling away from McCartney’s influence, from the security of success. He danced out on a limb, the limb held, and the result was Art.
The same can be said of Kirby. With Lee, he had taken mainstream comics and turned them inside out, upside down, and left his mark forever (just as he’d already done, in earlier times, with Joe Simon: Kirby, it seemed, never met a revolution he didn’t like). But, as his later Marvel work too clearly showed, he was bored. How many times can the Thing turn against his partners? How often can Loki tiptoe past Odin’s bed and usurp the throne of Asgard? Pretty often—but too often for a restless limb-dancer like Jack Kirby. As with Lennon, Kirby’s vision was unique, singular; and, if his collaboration with Lee (as important to Marvel’s success as McCartney was to the Beatles’; neither man should be underestimated) brought Kirby to new levels, those levels had now been attained, a plateau had been reached, and it was time to move on. Without collaboration. Artists, real artists, tend to burn. When they’ve burned long enough, the smoke starts pouring through their lips and they’ve got to spit the fire out.
In 1970, Jack Kirby jumped from Marvel to DC and started spitting fire. The fire was called The New Gods, Mister Miracle, Jimmy Olsen and Forever People. Books as important to comics as Lennon’s POB album was to rock. Books that opened new doors, set new standards, did things that comics had never dared to do before. New Gods was clearly the most focused, perhaps the best of the bunch; Mister Miracle offered the most flat-out fun; Jimmy Olsen was as wonderfully bizarre, in its way, as those Silver Age stories that featured Jimmy turning into aliens, werewolves and giant turtles. Forever People—which featured Kirby’s cosmic hippies, the embodiment of youth and naivete, idealism and dreams—was my personal favorite; encapsulating, as it did, Kirby’s (and my own) hope for the future. True, the dialogue in these stories was sometimes awkward—but dialogue was never Kirby’s forte. Story-telling was. Spirit was. Vision was. And these stories had them all. They ran, they rambled, they surprised, they exploded. (The language often did the same thing: the dialogue, as noted, may have been clunky, but Kirby’s prose was also so wildly passionate, so utterly idiosyncratic, that it achieved a kind of mad poetic grandeur.)
There seemed no definite beginning, middle, or end; there was just the constant search, the quest for an intangible something that could never be defined. The characters themselves couldn’t be called three dimensional, in the conventional sense, but they existed in a dimension all their own. Orion and Lightray, Scott and Barda, Big Bear, Serafin, Desaad and, perhaps the greatest villain in the history of comic books, Darkseid: these were people that I, as a reader, cared passionately about. I enjoyed their company—and looked forward to their evolution. Unfortunately, for reasons that I’ve never heard adequately explained, that evolution was cut short. With the exception of Mister Miracle (which staggered on for several more issues), all the “Fourth World” titles were axed.
But you can’t kill a dream—and these stories live on, resonating not just through the DC Universe but all of popular culture. The word genius is one that’s often overused, and cheapened by that overuse, but if the comic book business has ever produced a genius, Jack Kirby was it: a genius who taught me that keeping my eyes wide, focused both on the limitless heavens and the infinite universes within the human heart, is the surest way to creating stories that matter.
The “Fourth World” saga was unquestionably Kirby's magnum opus. If you’ve read it before, I urge you to read it again. If you haven’t read it, I urge you to put aside your preconceptions, grab the first volume of the Fourth World Omnibus and surrender to one of the 20th Century’s master storytellers.
©copyright 2026 J.M. DeMatteis
Tuesday, August 25, 2026
SHAZAM!
Director Dan Riba and I join James Enstall and my favorite Wonder Woman, Susan Eisenberg, to discuss the Justice League Unlimited episode "Clash"—which features a classic battle between Superman and Captain Marvel. It's one of my favorites among the multiple JLU episodes I wrote.
You can listen below. Enjoy!
You can listen below. Enjoy!
Friday, August 21, 2026
RAY DAY 2026
Tomorrow is Ray Bradbury’s birthday, but I thought I'd start the celebration early.
I’ve written about Bradbury many times here at Creation Point and, rather than try to rephrase the same thoughts, I offer up a tapestry of selected passages from previous posts. Happy Ray Day!
***
As I've made clear many times, there are few people on the face of the planet who have influenced and, more important, inspired me as much as the great Ray Bradbury. Reading a classic Bradbury short story or essay on creativity, immersing myself in his novels (especially Dandelion Wine, one of the most glorious and magical books ever written), is an experience that strips away the layers of what I call the CNN Reality—the voices of Doom and Naysaying Cynicism that seek to tell us that we're small and helpless, ordinary and afraid—and opens our hearts and minds to a deeper, truer, more joyful reality: one where life is sacred, creativity is an expression of pure delight and the universe is viewed with eyes of innocence and wonder. Bradbury's words set fire to my soul decades ago and they still do the same today.
***
People call Bradbury a science-fiction writer, a fantasist, but I don’t think either label applies. He’s a preacher, a rhapsodist, an interfaith—no, interdimensional—minister. I’ve rarely encountered anyone who more eloquently encapsulates the sheer sacred joy of life. When I read a Bradbury story, I not only want to race to the computer and create literary wonders of my own—the greatest gift a fellow writer can give you—I want to race out the door and up the street with my arms wide, embracing the entire universe.
***
Reading Bradbury—opening your mind and heart to that unique voice, that amazing spirit—it’s as if the author himself arrives at your house. The door bursts opens, nearly flying off its hinges, and Ray races into the room, enveloping you in a bear hug—nearly cracking your ribs—spinning you around in circles as he bellows with laughter and perhaps sheds a tear or two, touched, as he is, by this reunion. He’s a one-man Imagination pantheon, an explosion of gods and goddesses, each one with a unique story to tell. You get him to sit down for a minute or two, have a sip of wine, but he’s soon up on his feet, dragging you to the window, pointing to the clouds, the moon, the stars...the whole wide universe. You watch in wonder and delight as Bradbury reaches out, wraps his arms around God, yanks him down to earth and kisses Him full on the mouth.
When Ray’s done, when he’s given his last oratory, spun his last tale, he crushes you in another bear-hug then races out the door, leaving you utterly exhausted, inspired—and grateful to be alive.
***
Here’s a passage from Bradbury’s essay “Predicting the Past, Remembering the Future” that, for me, boils the man down to his cosmic essence:
My own belief is that the universe exists as a miracle and that we have been born here to witness and celebrate. We wonder at our purpose for living. Our purpose is to perceive the fantastic. Why have a universe if there is no audience?
We are that audience.
We are here to see and touch, describe and move. Our job, then, is to occupy ourselves with paying back the gift.
***
Read Bradbury. Listen to Bradbury. Unfold your soul and let his words wash over you. If you're a budding writer, he'll fill you with burning passion for your chosen field. If you're an old hand like me, he'll make you feel like a newborn, just beginning on the most miraculous path God ever created. And if you're not a writer, I suspect he'll touch and move you in surprising ways that will echo on through your heart—and through your life.
***
The writers that matter most to us become our dearest friends and companions. I’ve traveled the universes with my friend Ray for the majority of my life and, with luck, I'll keep traveling with him for years to come.
©copyright 2026 J.M. DeMatteis
Friday, August 14, 2026
CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE SUPERMAN KIND
As under-the-radar projects of mine go, this one's really obscure: Superman—The Kansas Sighting. Call it a fusion of my love of UFOlogy and my love of the Man of Steel. This excellent video (which is part essay/part audio comic) takes a deep dive into the story. I'd forgotten most of the details, so watching this was almost like experiencing it for the first time, which made it great fun.
If memory serves, The Kansas Sighting originally appeared as two 48 page prestige format issues. I would love to see DC Comics reprint it.
Monday, August 10, 2026
BATMAN MEETS KRAVEN
I talk to the gang at the Capes and Lunatics podcast about Batman: Caped Crusader, the Kraven What If? story...and many other things. You can listen below. Enjoy!
Tuesday, August 4, 2026
OUR FAVORITE REDHEAD
One more summer release, on sale tomorrow: Mary Jane: Face It, Tiger is a one-shot anthology celebrating 60 years of one of comics most dynamic and memorable female characters. My story—beautifully illustrated by Andrea Broccardo—picks up on a plot element from my second Spectacular Spider-Man run, as MJ deals with the fallout of her confrontation with the Chameleon. You can see the list of other contributors below. I'm delighted to be in such impressive company.
If you're an MJ fan—I have to say it—you've just hit the jackpot.
Thursday, July 30, 2026
CRUSADING
Tomorrow is the day when the long-awaited second season of Batman: Caped Crusader arrives on Amazon Prime. My episode—I believe it's the fifth in the season—is called "The Spectral Hand" and it's a Christmas tale, but this being Gotham don't expect angels and hot chocolate. This one gets very strange.
Hope you all enjoy my contribution—and the entire season from Bruce Timm, James Tucker, Geoff Thorne and the whole Bat-crew.
Wednesday, July 29, 2026
HIS MIGHTY SHIELD
Had a great chat with the guys at the Captain America Fans Podcast—talking about Cap, the Kraven What If?, Rocket Rewind, and much more. You can watch it below.
Enjoy!
Tuesday, July 28, 2026
POST-GALACTIC
A great weekend at Galaxycon Raleigh—meeting heartfelt fans, seeing old friends (like Bob Budiansky, Ralph Macchio (the editor, not the Karate Kid), Ron Marz and more) and, best of all, hanging out with my beautiful daughter (and brilliant booth assistant), Katie.
Next up, in September: DragonCon and FanX Salt Lake. There might be one more convention later in the year, but that's still up in the air.
TOMORROW!
Two books coming tomorrow from Marvel: What If...? Spider-Man—with extraordinary art by Yildiray Cinar—which revisits Kraven's Last Hunt and asks the question "What if Kraven survived his last hunt?"...
..and Rocket Rewind, which features the first ever meeting of Rocket Raccoon and his progenitor Rocky Raccoon. (Read the story and you'll understand.) This wonderfully absurd tale is perfectly illustrated by my old friend and collaborator Shawn McManus.
Hope you enjoy them both!
Tuesday, July 21, 2026
THIS WEEK!
It's almost time for GalaxyCon Raleigh! As the hipsters (well, the ones from the 1950s) say: "Be there or be square!"
Friday, July 17, 2026
UNDERGROUND
Had an interesting chat with the guys at the Illustrated Underground Podcast, talking about everything from my work back in the 80s to my recent time travel novel Dark Future. You can watch it below. Enjoy!
Thursday, July 16, 2026
END OF AN ERA
The word is out (via The Hollywood Reporter) that Marvel Comics is leaving New York and moving to Los Angeles.
Back in the 1980s and 90s, a trip to the Marvel offices usually meant I’d be spending the entire day there—not just discussing work with my editors, but catching up on our lives, discussing (to purloin a phrase) life, the universe, and everything with an extraordinary editorial staff that included Danny Fingeroth, Tom DeFalco, Mark Gruenwald, Mike Carlin, Bob Budiansky, Carl Potts, Ann Nocenti, Glenn Greenberg, Eric Fein, and many more. These folks weren't just my editors, they were friends—and the Marvel office was a kind of home away from home. (The same was true of the Distinguished Competition. I'd often spend one day at Marvel, another at DC. Different faces, same vibe.)
Those offices were a place to work, but they were also places to hang out, meet up with fellow freelancers, goof around, share ideas. So much history, so many wonderful memories. Knowing both companies are gone from New York makes me sad.
I'm still working with Marvel all these years later. The current staff is a talented group of good people—and I send them all my very best as they wrestle with tough decisions in the months ahead.
Calling something the end of an era is a tired cliche, but, in this case, it's justified. Comic books and New York City have been synonymous since the dawn of the industry. Not anymore.
Friday, July 10, 2026
SILENCE DAY 2026
Wishing a happy, blessed Silence Day to my Meher Baba family around the world.
"Everything else may fail—Love never fails."—Avatar Meher Baba
Wednesday, July 8, 2026
AMAZING!
The massive Amazing Spider-Man #1000 is coming your way in September and I've got a story—focusing on Peter Parker's tangled, traumatic relationship with the Osborn family—in the collection, illustrated by the great Humberto Ramos. If you could see Humberto's pencil art for this Goblin-centric tale, your eyes would pop out of your head (in the very best way).
Can't wait for everyone to read this one. For now, enjoy Humberto's variant cover!
Update: AIPT just released a preview page (minus lettering) for our story and you can see it below. Fantastic, isn't it?
Thursday, June 25, 2026
WHAT THE IF?
I had a chat with the fine folks at CBR about my upcoming What If? tale that takes a new look at Kraven's Last Hunt. The amazing art (by Yildiray Cinar) and color (by Alex Sinclair) alone is worth the price of admission. You can read the article right here.
MORE CAPED CRUSADER
The second season of Batman: Caped Crusader is coming to Amazon Prime Video on July 31st and you can watch the trailer below. What's my episode about? I've signed an NDA so I can't reveal a thing (beyond the fact that, y'know, Batman is in it), but you'll be able to see it soon enough. Here's to more Cape to come!
Friday, June 12, 2026
GOING GALACTIC
I've got two conventions coming up in July. First is GalaxyCon New Orleans (July 10—12) and then comes GalaxyCon Raleigh (July 23—26). For some reason I'm not listed on the GalaxyCon site for either convention, but I suspect that will be corrected shortly.
These will be my first cons of the year and I'm really looking forward to getting back out there and meeting the folks who read, and appreciate, my work.
Update: For reasons too complicated to get into here, I will not be at the New Orleans GalaxyCon. GalaxyCon Raleigh—July 23—26—is still a go. See you there, I hope!
LEN DAY
The great Len Wein would have been 78 today. Here's an excerpt from a tribute to Len I wrote, and posted here, back in 2014.
We miss you, Len.
We miss you, Len.
***
When I first began working with Len, he was—despite being just past thirty—already a legend in the industry. This was the writer who, with the equally-legendary Bernie Wrightson, created the groundbreaking Swamp Thing series. Unless you were around when that book debuted, you can’t really grasp how truly revolutionary Swamp Thing was, how different from everything that had come before it. I remember being floored by the emotional power of the art, the pulp-poetry of the language and the big beating heart at the story’s core. You couldn’t read an issue of Swamp Thing without feeling something, without being moved.
If that series was all Len had done, his place in Comic Book Heaven would be secure, but he was also the guy who co-created Wolverine, one of the most successful, and popular, characters in the medium’s history... resurrected and revitalized the X-Men franchise...had memorable runs on everything from Justice League to Hulk, Batman to Spider-Man...and, oh, yes, was editor-in-chief of Marvel Comics along the way. Len could do slam-bang superhero adventure with the best of them, but the hallmark of a Wein story wasn’t the action, it was that aforementioned beating heart. All of Len’s best work was marked by a deep humanity and a profound compassion.
Which is why, when I entered his office in the spring of 1979, I counted myself among the lucky ones: I didn’t realize just how lucky until I got to know Len. There are some writers whose work you admire, but then you meet them and it’s impossible to make the leap from the words on the page to the person across the table: there seems to be some great cosmic disconnect—and, yes, a great disappointment, as well. (It’s unfair to expect a writer or actor or musician to somehow be the embodiment his art—the work alone should be more than enough—but we hope for it nonetheless.) With Len, though, the man and the work were one. He was just like his stories: charming, funny, eloquent and all heart. He extended that heart to me. There wasn’t a hint of self-importance to the man. His editing style was warm and welcoming. He taught through encouragement, enthusiasm. Even if he didn’t like a particular story—and, believe me, some of my early scripts were massively flawed—he never eviscerated the work, never bullied: just found a gentle way to guide me out of the morass of my own inexperience and onto solid creative ground.
In a very short time, Len became not just my editor, but my friend and first real mentor in the comic book business. He saw a spark of something special in my stories and, through his patient guidance, helped fan that spark into a flame. There I was, an insecure, working class kid from Brooklyn, uncertain of my own talent, wondering if I could carve a career for myself in this wonderful, and hugely peculiar, business—and there was The Legendary Len Wein providing the answer: “If you want it, you absolutely can.”
You can’t put a price on that.
When I first began working with Len, he was—despite being just past thirty—already a legend in the industry. This was the writer who, with the equally-legendary Bernie Wrightson, created the groundbreaking Swamp Thing series. Unless you were around when that book debuted, you can’t really grasp how truly revolutionary Swamp Thing was, how different from everything that had come before it. I remember being floored by the emotional power of the art, the pulp-poetry of the language and the big beating heart at the story’s core. You couldn’t read an issue of Swamp Thing without feeling something, without being moved.
If that series was all Len had done, his place in Comic Book Heaven would be secure, but he was also the guy who co-created Wolverine, one of the most successful, and popular, characters in the medium’s history... resurrected and revitalized the X-Men franchise...had memorable runs on everything from Justice League to Hulk, Batman to Spider-Man...and, oh, yes, was editor-in-chief of Marvel Comics along the way. Len could do slam-bang superhero adventure with the best of them, but the hallmark of a Wein story wasn’t the action, it was that aforementioned beating heart. All of Len’s best work was marked by a deep humanity and a profound compassion.
Which is why, when I entered his office in the spring of 1979, I counted myself among the lucky ones: I didn’t realize just how lucky until I got to know Len. There are some writers whose work you admire, but then you meet them and it’s impossible to make the leap from the words on the page to the person across the table: there seems to be some great cosmic disconnect—and, yes, a great disappointment, as well. (It’s unfair to expect a writer or actor or musician to somehow be the embodiment his art—the work alone should be more than enough—but we hope for it nonetheless.) With Len, though, the man and the work were one. He was just like his stories: charming, funny, eloquent and all heart. He extended that heart to me. There wasn’t a hint of self-importance to the man. His editing style was warm and welcoming. He taught through encouragement, enthusiasm. Even if he didn’t like a particular story—and, believe me, some of my early scripts were massively flawed—he never eviscerated the work, never bullied: just found a gentle way to guide me out of the morass of my own inexperience and onto solid creative ground.
In a very short time, Len became not just my editor, but my friend and first real mentor in the comic book business. He saw a spark of something special in my stories and, through his patient guidance, helped fan that spark into a flame. There I was, an insecure, working class kid from Brooklyn, uncertain of my own talent, wondering if I could carve a career for myself in this wonderful, and hugely peculiar, business—and there was The Legendary Len Wein providing the answer: “If you want it, you absolutely can.”
You can’t put a price on that.
Tuesday, June 9, 2026
THRILLS!
Got my copies of Thrilling Adventure Yarns 2026 and the book looks great. If you missed the Kickstarter and want to read short fiction by me, Steven Grant, Paul Kupperberg, Alisa Kwitney, editor Bob Greenberger, and many more, hop over to Amazon. The book releases in July. Hope you come along for the ride.
Thursday, June 4, 2026
RETURN OF THE CAPED CRUSADER
Looks like the premiere date for Season Two of Batman: Caped Crusader has finally been announced. Happy to have contributed to the new season. (And, no, I can't reveal what my episode is about.)
You can read more details and see some promotional art here.
You can read more details and see some promotional art here.
Monday, May 25, 2026
PROPOSITIONS
Had a fun chat with Chris Schnabel of the Mad Props podcast, talking about music, the creative process, Spider-Man, and other things. Enjoy!
Thursday, May 21, 2026
1994
A short one to let you know that the collected edition of Spider-Man '94 is on sale now. (If you want to read a review of the book, just hop over to AIPT for an enthusiastic thumbs up.) No official word from Marvel regarding a return to the '94 universe but—with or without my participation—I hope they do.
And while I have your attention, let me point you to this announcement, heralding the coming of Amazing Spider-Man #1000. Very happy to be part of the celebration.
And while I have your attention, let me point you to this announcement, heralding the coming of Amazing Spider-Man #1000. Very happy to be part of the celebration.
Thank you. That is all.
Friday, May 15, 2026
KRAVEN COMES ALIVE
Came across this on YouTube: a full-cast motion comic adaptation of Kraven's Last Hunt. I was very impressed with this and I think you will be, too. Congratulations to the folks who created and performed this adaptation. You did a fantastic job.
Saturday, May 9, 2026
COMING UP
Some fun projects coming up this summer from Marvel, starting with the Rocket Racoon 50th anniversary anthology, Rocket Rewind. I've contributed a story, illustrated by my brilliant buddy Shawn McManus, that both pays tribute to, and actually interacts with, the character's 1970s origin tale by Bill Mantlo and the late, great Keith Giffen. The book goes to sale July 31st.
On sale the same day is What If? Spider-Man—which asks the question: "What if Kraven survived his last hunt?" (I vaguely remember that old Kraven tale, but I don''t recall who wrote it.) The art, by Yildiray Cinar, knocked my proverbial socks off—and I suspect you'll have a similar reaction. This one-shot is part of Marvel's celebration of 50 years of What If?
And finally, on sale in August, is a celebration (yes, another one!) of one of Marvel's greatest characters, Mary Jane Watson, who debuted in Amazing Spider-Man 60 years ago. Mary Jane—Face it, Tiger features a story of mine, beautifully illustrated by Andrea Broccardo, that looks back at a pivotal moment for MJ, inspired by a story from my second Spectacular Spider-Man run.
Collect 'em all! (If you're so inclined!)
Wednesday, April 29, 2026
THE GAME'S AFOOT!
I recently wrote an introduction to Joel Meadows and Andy Bennett's excellent Sherlock Holmes reinvention, Sherlock Holmes and the Empire Builders—and you can read it below. (And if you want to buy the book, just click here.)
Growing up in New York City in the 1960s, the classic Sherlock Holmes films starring Basil Rathbone (with his deerstalker hat, raptorial features, and unerring intellect) and Nigel Bruce (stuttering, bumbling, and unfailingly loyal) seemed to be playing perpetually on our local TV stations, as omnipresent on weekend mornings as Abbott and Costello and the Bowery Boys. Rathbone and Bruce were my introduction to Holmes, a character who’s had an extraordinarily long life since he first emerged from the fertile imagination of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Like Batman, Superman, and James Bond, Holmes has far outlived his creator, assuming a kind of immortality, constantly resurrected and reinvented for new generations. We’ve seen innumerable literary incarnations (from life-long Sherlockian Nicholas Meyer to, of all people, Stephen King), movie interpretations (from the traditional Rathbone to the more anarchic Robert Downey, Jr.), and multiple TV incarnations (my favorite being Steven Moffat and Mark Gattis’s brilliant Sherlock). And we would never have had Hercule Poirot, Miss Marple, Lieutenant Columbo, Benoi Blanc, and dozens of other quirky, ingenious detectives had Doyle and Holmes not been there first.
The beauty of an iconic character like Sherlock Holmes (“iconic” is a word that’s painfully overused these days, but in Holmes’ case, it’s appropriate) is that the template is so sturdy, with roots so deep and strong, it invites constant reinvention. You can bend and twist Holmes in dozens of directions and, as long as you’re true to the character’s essence, he won’t break. (We know, instantly, when someone has violated that essence and turn swiftly away.) Which is why writers are constantly returning to Doyle’s world, ready to bring what they hope will be a new and unique perspective to Holmes’s adventures.
That said, given the overcrowded ocean of Holmesiana out there, it takes a considerable amount of courage to stride into those waters and launch yet another version of the character, to believe you have something singular to say. Which makes the work of Joel Meadows and Andy Bennett even more impressive.
Their Holmes is grittier, harder edged, and the world he strides through, with his customary confidence (some might call it arrogance), is darker: a steampunk universe of violence and corruption. Meadows’s script rockets along with impressive speed and apparent ease (I say “apparent” because I know how much hard work goes into making a story’s flow seem effortless), providing the expected, and often unexpected, twists and turns one wants in a Holmes tale. In Meadows’s hands Sherlock Holmes—nearly 140 years old, way past retirement age—feels fresh, new, exciting, and that is no small feat.
But comics are a collaborative medium and the best script in the world will die on the vine without the right artist to bring it to life. I’ve learned, over the years, that I could hand the same script to five different artists and get five different stories back. A comic book artist is constantly making choices—about “camera” angles, body language, panel to panel flow—and the right artist can raise my story up to places I never dreamed, while the wrong one can tear it apart, leaving it in incomprehensible fragments. Meadows’s collaborator Andy Bennett brings this adventure to vibrant life with rock solid storytelling, powerful emotion, and fine linework reminiscent of a woodcut. The art feels simultaneously modern and Victorian, a perfect blend. (I’m especially fond of Bennett’s striking full page illustrations, like the wonderful shot where we see biplanes and dirigibles flying over London.) That the story is in black and white seems appropriate, carrying me back to those New York weekend mornings, stretched out in front of the television, watching Rathbone and Bruce solve mystery after mystery.
And now it’s time for you to stretch out, perhaps light up an imaginary pipe, and enjoy this engaging tale. A brand-new game is afoot, but only Meadows and Bennett know how it will end. Relax, enjoy. You’re in good hands.
Saturday, April 11, 2026
THRILLS!
If you missed the Kickstarter for the Thrilling Adventure Yarns anthology a while back, you can now preorder the book at Amazon. TAY features short stories by me, Steven Grant, Alisa Kwitney, Max Alan Collins, Paul Kupperberg, and many more. Edited by my old pal, and former DC Comics editor, the erudite and charming Bob Greenberger. It's a great collection and well worth your time.
Friday, April 10, 2026
AT THE CROSSROADS
Had an amazing time talking to my old friend Dr. David Tully and his co-host Deema Maghalseh for their Crossroads podcast. We took a deep dive into my new book Dark Future, my comics and television work, and the need for tales of spirituality and hope in dark times. You can hear our conversation here (or wherever you listen to your favorite podcasts). Enjoy!
Tuesday, March 24, 2026
A JUSTICE LEAGUE MIRACLE
I return to the Justice League Revisited podcast to discuss my Mr. Miracle-centric Justice League Unlimited episode "The Ties That Bind" with my favorite Wonder Woman, Susan Eisenberg, and the ever-amiable James Enstall: a perfect excuse to celebrate the genius of Jack Kirby. You can listen below. Enjoy!
Sunday, March 8, 2026
CON TIME!
My first convention of the season—GalaxyCon Richmond—is coming up (March 19—22) and I'm happy to be returning to Virginia for the first time in seven years.
I've got four more conventions set for 2026: GalaxyCon New Orleans (July 10—12), GalaxyCon Raleigh (July 23—26), DragonCon (September 4—7), and FanX Salt Lake (September 24—26). Might be more added to the list before the year is out.
Come join us!
Wednesday, February 25, 2026
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AVATAR MEHER BABA
"To penetrate into the essence of all being and significance and to release the fragrance of that inner attainment for the guidance and benefit of others, by expressing, in the world of forms, truth, love, purity and beauty — this is the sole game which has intrinsic and absolute worth. All other happenings, incidents and attainments in themselves can have no lasting importance."—Avatar Meher Baba
Monday, February 2, 2026
MORE SHENANIGANS
I return to the Comics Shenanigans podcast where host Adam Chapman and I take a deep dive into my new novel, Dark Future. We also have an in depth discussion about the just-concluded Spider-Man '94. You can listen right here. Enjoy!
Saturday, January 31, 2026
A TRIBUTE TO SAL
I joined Tom DeFalco, Danny Fingeroth, Roger Stern and our host Brad Douglas (of the Spider-Man Crawlspace podcast) for a sweet tribute to Our Pal Sal Buscema—and you can watch it below.
Tuesday, January 27, 2026
REMEMBERING SAL
Yesterday would have been Sal Buscema's 90th birthday. Instead we got the word that Sal passed away last Friday: an enormous loss for our industry and for all of us who knew and worked with him. There's hardly a Marvel character Mr. B didn't leave his mark on, from Captain America to the Hulk, Avengers to Thor. Working with Sal for two years on Spectacular Spider-Man remains a highlight of my career. The best tribute I can pay to Sal is to repost the tale of our magical collaboration on Spectacular Spider-Man #200, which I think was a highlight of our run. You can read it below.
Safe travels, Sal. You will be missed.
***
There are two basic ways that comic books are written. The first is full script (that’s where the writer lays out the whole story page by page, panel by panel, including camera-angles, captions and dialogue) and the other is plot-first (the writer creates a detailed plot outline which then goes to the artist. When the writer gets the pencilled pages back, he then adds the dialogue and captions). Both approaches have their strengths and I enjoy working either way. The challenge of a full script is that every element of the story is in your hands. You're in full control of the material. The challenge of plot-first, of course, is that you’re often surprised by what your artist does—and your scripting is directly influenced by it. Sometimes that’s a wonderful thing, sometimes not. There are some artists who can draw very well but have yet to master the art of visual storytelling—and it can be difficult (to say the least) trying to make up for their shortcomings via dialogue and captions. But when “Marvel style”—another popular name for the plot-first method—works, it’s magical.
One of the most magical experiences I had was back in the 90’s when I was collaborating with the great Sal Buscema on Spectacular Spider-Man. Sal and I hit it off from the first panel of our first story and my admiration for him remains boundless. He can draw beautifully, he’s an impeccable visual storyteller and a total professional. Add to that the fact that Sal is a truly good person—I’d go so far as to use an old-fashioned word and call him a gentleman—and you can understand why I loved working with him.
My plots were usually very tight—page by page, panel by panel, crammed with camera angles, psychological shading and rough-draft dialogue—but whatever was on the page, Sal was always able to take it to another level and do things that many other artists couldn’t. Case in point: Spectacular Spider-Man #200, which featured the death of Harry Osborn (who was then making no end of trouble as the Green Goblin).
There was a sequence at the end of that story (perhaps my favorite out of all the Spider-Man tales I’ve written) where Harry, realizing that he loved Peter Parker too much to let him die, saves a drugged, weak Spidey from a death-trap. Peter, his wife Mary Jane and Harry’s son, Norman, all stand by, shocked and heartbroken, as Harry then collapses, overcome by the toxic Goblin formula.
On the final two pages, Spidey accompanies Harry into an ambulance, they drive off and Harry passes away, leaving Peter Parker to his grief and memories. When the ambulance arrives at the hospital, it falls to Spider-Man to tell Mary Jane and Norman that Harry’s gone. They react, we cut to a photo of Peter and Harry in happier days...and the story ends. The sequence was small, quiet, but, on an emotional level, it was massive.
I did everything I could to communicate the power of those last pages to Sal in the plot—along with my thoughts on how the sequence would be handled in the final script. My intention was to verbally milk the pages for all they were worth, wringing out every last drop of emotion; going big and melodramatic via captions, inner monologues from Peter or dialogue between the characters. (Another benefit of "Marvel style": I didn't have to decide then, I could make up my mind when the art was done.)
Then Sal’s pages came in: It was one of his finest hours. The panel to panel flow was cinematic and crystal clear, the characters dramatic and achingly human. And those final two pages? Perfection! At first—locked into my original vision—I began writing captions and dialogue for the end-sequence, but it quickly became clear that everything I wanted to say had already been said, and better, by Sal. It was all there in the pictures. He had translated my plot so expertly that words would have capsized the sequence and destroyed the emotional power of the moment. So I shut my big mouth and let Harry Osborn die in silence, with his best friend by his side.
That, too, is part of a writer’s work—especially in comics: deciding when to speak and when to shut up. Deciding whether to go for a barrage of machine-gun dialogue, a series of powerful captions or to surrender to equally-powerful silence. Whether we’re working full-script of plot-first, we make those decisions on every panel of every page.
And it certainly helps the process when you’ve got an artist like Sal Buscema bringing your story to life. Take a look at the images below and you'll see what I mean.
©copyright 2026 J.M. DeMatteis
Friday, January 23, 2026
A GLITCH IN THE MATRIX
For some reason, my Blogger account won't let me reply directly to comments right now, so I'll have to post separate comments instead of direct replies. Bear with me as I figure this out.
UPDATE: Looks like the issue resolved itself. The glitch in the Matrix has been sealed!
Saturday, January 17, 2026
GOODBYE '94
The final issue of Spider-Man '94 comes out this week. Here's the hype, straight from Marvel:
TIL THE ENDS OF THE EARTH! It’s the final battle between SPIDER-MAN and MORLUN—and you won’t believe how it ends! Kraven, Kaine, Mary Jane—it all comes crashing down! PLUS: One of the most heartfelt endings you’ll see all year!
Hope everyone enjoys our finale. You can see some preview art below.
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