Spread 1
Artie:                                 This is me.

And this is trouble.

Artie comments:        These jeans were not fashionable when I got them, I’m just too cheap to buy new ones.

                                             Must’ve been a good night, there’s normally a lot more paper wads.

Description:                  (finished art available for this spread) A skinny young man leans over a work desk with his pen scribbling furiously. His tongue pokes out as he tries… again. The floor is littered with crumpled paper and the trash can overflows with more. His desk has one massive pile of papers and books and other random supplies. On top of the pile is a (unnoticed) small gray goblin, lounging smugly. The artist and all his stuff are in full color. The linework on all things associated with Artie is clean except in the shading, (and his unruly hair) where it devolves to very intentional scribbles. Artie is trying to be an artist… but he needs more practice. Snishwimble, the goblin, is dark gray with black crosshatched shading and white highlights. The only color on him or any of the other goblins is their mismatched and way-too-huge socks. As this book is supposedly written by Artie, himself, the lettering is all hand-drawn, veering from obnoxiously ornate to clean/readable to letter-ish shaped splotches.

Spread 2

Artie:                                  Thrice upon a time and no fewer than four times last Wednesday, I was tormented by goblins. And these were not the run-of-the-mill, make-things-spooky-at-Halloween-type of goblins. Nope, they are masters of making messes. They specialize in ruining days. They call themselves the Calligrafae and their favorite victims are artists. I know this because I happen to be an artist. Or, at least, I’m trying to be one. I need more practice.

Artie comment:             Thrice means three times.

Description:                     (finished art available for this spread) Three lavishly-dressed goblins look onto Artie’s ornate lettering – a proper beginning to a fairy tale with Acanthus leaves and curly-ques. Behind them is a very large and concerned close-up of Artie’s face.

Spread 3 (page 6-7)

Artie:                                     Actually, I guess I should introduce myself first. I’m Artie. I work at an art museum during the day as a tour guide. It’s not much, but it pays the bills and after looking at masterpieces all day, I come home inspired. Every night I practice my own painting and drawing so that one day, my work will be in a gallery. Then my work could inspire the latest generation of would-be artists working as tour guides. For now, though, it’s a quiet life with little colorful splatters here and there. My parents wanted me to be an accountant… that’s a whole different kind of quiet life. Nope. I just couldn’t do that. And I think they’re finally okay with my non-calculating choices. Now let’s get back to the interesting part.

Artie comments:            Every morning  I use a ton of Mousse
                                                The results are… unsatisfying.
                                                The mousse gives out by noon.

Description:                      (finished art available for this spread) Artie holds up a small flag next to an ornate frame. He’s in dress pants, a blazer and a tie. His hair is … lumpy at best. Another Artie sits in profile on the floor sketching in a notebook with his tie wrapped around his head. One last Artie is looking up toward the exaggerated text with swirls and flourishes as if in a daydream. His hair is back to its curly poof ball.

Spread 4 (page 8-9)

Artie:                                     A little more than a month ago, I was practicing with my paints and inks when out of the blue, I sneezed. It was a sudden, violent, ferocious sneeze that sent my papers flying and my ink spilling, and it took me the rest of the night just to clean it all up. I tried the next day and the same thing happened again. I thought that I must be getting sick, or maybe was allergic, so I spent the whole next day cleaning. My little studio apartment was spotless. There was nothing upstairs or down that could cause a sneeze. I even emptied out the spice rack and the pepper mill. I was taking no chances. I drank an entire gallon of apple juice to keep off any lingering sniffles, then got ready to try again.

Artie comments:             Achoo

Description:                      (finished art available for this spread) The entire page is covered in a massive sneeze explosion cloud. Papers flying and ink blots add to the chaos. There’s at least one flying peppermill. The text for “sudden,” “violent,” and “ferocious” ooze across the page.

Spread 5 (page 10-11)

Artie:                                     The next day I wore a mask, just in case. And everything was going smoothly. My pens were dancing along the page and my watercolors were drying quietly. Then it happened. It was the sneeze to end all sneezes. Paints went everywhere. Papers spiraled around in a tiny tornado. I blew my mask out so far that when it snapped back, it covered my eyes. I fell to the floor sniffling, unable to see and groping around blindly in the mess of my gigantic achoo. That’s when I heard it. Someone or something was giggling. So, I grabbed at those giggles. When I pulled my mask back down, I had caught – something – by his big toe. He wasn’t giggling anymore, but I wasn’t letting go.
Artie comments:               ACHOO
Description:                        (finished art available for this spread) Another sneeze explosion cloud dominates the page, but underneath, multiple Arties are in various uncomfortable poses mid sneeze or mid fall, another kneels down, having caught something small and gray. A much larger and perturbed Snishwimble hangs from the top right corner of the spread – upside down with his arms folded menacingly. SFX bursts litter the page, leading from “achoo”, “toing”, “snap” to “snatch”.

Spread 6 (page 12-13)

Artie:                                   This something was all gray, about as tall as one of my pencils and wore very elaborate, old-fashioned clothes, like a fairy tale prince – well, a prince with no shoes, but very colorful mismatched socks that were eight sizes too big. His face was definitely not princely. He had a massive nose and wild feathery hair that fluttered out in every direction. He had big bulbous eyes, one long ear that flopped at the end and – at the moment – a frown that could make the grumpiest vice-principal take a couple steps back.

Snishwimble:                   Unhand me you brazen oaf! Do you know what noble person you hold by his big toe?! I am Lord Snishwimble, of the mighty house of Gur, seventh son of the seventh son of his righteous majesty, King Fluffbundl of the Calligrafae!

Artie:                                    Well, I think I’m holding a pipsqueak monster that made me sneeze up this disaster!

Snishwimble:                   Pipsqueak?! Who are you calling a pipsqueak, hurricane nose!

Artie:                                     I caught you red-handed you little whatever-you-are, so now you have to give me a wish, Mr. Hoity Toity Snishy Poo.

Snishwimble:                    It is Snishwimble! And why on earth would I give you a wish?

Artie:                                     That’s what happens when you catch a leprechaun or a fairy. There are rules about catching magic things. I read all the fairy tales when I was a kid.

Snishwimble:                     Do I look like a leprechaun or – ick – a fairy with or without a tail ? I’m a Calligrafae – when you catch one of us, the rules say you get a curse!

Artie comments:              Wait, some fairies really have tails?

Description:                        (dummy sketch) The back and forth of the text dominates the spread with one image of Artie pulling a face at Snishwimble and one (upside down) image of Snishwimble pulling a face back.

Spread 7 (page 14-15)

Artie:                                     I dropped the little creature at the thought of being cursed. What else could he do to me? That sneeze had left my whole head pounding and my ears felt like they were full of cotton.

Hey, I’m sorry, I just couldn’t see after that sneeze, and I was trying to slow down the mess.

He started dusting himself off – though there was no dust anywhere in my house. There were paints dripping from every surface and shreds of papers that had once been drawings. There was a mess bigger than I’d ever made before, but no dust. He didn’t seem to notice any of it, pacing back and forth leaving inky squiggles where his socks went through some green ink.

Snishwimble:                      Well, that’s better. At least you apologized. It won’t save you from my terrible wrath, of course, but it’s a start.

Artie comments:               I liked him better upside down.

Description:                        (dummy sketch) A large Snishwimble shakes a finger toward the reader. He looks smug once more.

Spread 8 (page 16-17)

Artie:                                     Listen, all I wanted to do was to practice my art in my own home. Why would you even bother with me if you’re a royal goblin? I’m nobody, not even a real artist yet. I’m not even worth cursing. I’m not worth your time at all, really. I’m sure you have much more important things to do – things far, far away.

Snishwimble:                      Indeed. And you aren’t an artist. But you could be – and that’s why you’re on my list. That’s how anyone gets on our lists – potential. But I don’t really want to be here. I don’t even much care for all the bluster and grandness stuff.

Artie:                                     He sat down with a huff.

Snishwimble:                      This is just my job.

Artie comments:               He looked miserable.
                                                If I wasn’t dripping black India ink and green gouache, I might’ve felt bad for him.

Description:                        (dummy sketch) A large sad Snishwimble sits on the spread with his socked feet in front of him. He seems… pitiful.

Spread 9 (page 18-19)

Snishwimble:                      I make people sneeze at the worst time, and it’s steady work. I’ve got you, a writer in California with hay fever and a tendency to leave windows open, then a painter in Hong Kong who is just about to finish a huge piece that’s taken him five months – all tonight. I’m exhausted and bored and can think of a dozen places I’d rather be. Then you have to go and get grabby, meaning even more work for me. Curses don’t just cast themselves. They take weeks of planning and there’s always got to be that one ray of hope to get out of it that’s all but impossible so you can swoop in and crush them even harder when they fail. My dad loves a good curse, but shooooooo, they are a huge hassle.

Artie comments:               Note to self: when goblins poof/disappear, it smells like raspberries and herring.

Description:                        (dummy sketch) Frame 1: A writer scribbles along near an open window showing a landscape of evergreens. A small Snishwimble lounges on a shelf above the window. Frame 2: An artist looks critically at a painting on a canvas. The top of Snishwimble’s head peeks over the top of the canvas. A larger Snishwimble lays down at the point the two frames overlap, yawning and stretching.

Spread 10 (page 20-21)

Artie:                                     If you want to forget the curse, I won’t tell. You could just leave. I’ll even take the rest of the night off from practice to be convincing. No one needs to know.

Snishwimble:                      No, no. Rules are rules. If I let you slip off the list, then there might be another, and another – then chaos. Next thing you know there’d be goblins taking vacations and imps invading laundry baskets and polychrome pixies turning clear as glass. No, no. We must see this through regardless how little I want to be here.

Artie:                                     Uh huh… where would you go if you didn’t have me and the others to see tonight?

Snishwimble:                      I’d go visit Nixtricia.

Artie:                                     Is that your hometown?

Snishwimble:                      She is my lady-love, the Queen of the Polychrome Pixies, ruler of the realm of Noicrn-Zwart.
Artie:                                     Bless you.

Snishwimble:                      What?

Artie:                                     You sneezed.

Snishwimble:                      No – I can’t sneeze, it’s physically impossible. She lives in Noicrn-Zwart, land of the black ink imps. But even if I could see her tonight, it would do no good. Our courtship is doomed unless I can get at least a dozen nobles to agree to the match. You see, I’d have to leave the Calligrafae to marry her, and I am rather important to the kingdom.

Artie:                                     Do you love her?

Snishwimble:                      More than words can say. I love her so very much.

Artie:                                     At that point he started telling me just how many ways he loved her. He told me how smart and beautiful and graceful and punctual and …and… and … and… It was way more than words should say.

And does she love you?

Snishwimble:                      I believe so – yes.

Artie:                                     Then I really am sorry for you. There’s nothing worse than not being with the people you care about. I’d take all the sneezing in the world if it meant all my friends and family could be safe and near me forever.

Snishwimble:                      THAT’S IT!

Artie comments:               NOY•kern ZWART… noy•KERN ZWART…… noykern ZWAAAAAAART. Nope, still sounds like a sneeze to me.

Description:                        (dummy sketch) Frame 1 – Artie shrugs with all his questions, surrounded by text in the top left, The Bottom right finds a lovesick Snishwimble thinking of the black ink fairy Nixtricia in a giant heart.

Spread 11 (page 22-23)

Artie:                                     Oh no – what is it?

Snishwimble:                      Your curse! You will be cursed to have one member of my family visit you each night for two weeks. If you can convince twelve of them to agree to my marriage, you will be free from me and all the other Calligrafae forever – but if you don’t, you will sneeze every piece of art you make or even get near to pieces for the rest of your life.

Artie:                                     Hey wait! I didn’t agree to…

Snishwimble:                      It’s not an agreement, it’s a curse. Oh, and a delightful one it is too. Daddums will be pleased. Now I must be off, others to torment and much to arrange. Remember – Snishwimble and Nixtricia, you might want to write that down. In fact, given the colorful manners of my family, you may want to write a lot down. This shall be very entertaining! Tah. Poof.

Artie:                                     And then he vanished.

Blustering boogeys, this was not going to go well. Sneezing to pieces any art I make? That would kill any practice I’d try for the rest of my life. Sneezing to pieces any art I get near? There goes my day job. No, no, no, all I have to do is convince some goblin cousins to approve Snishy-grumble’s wedding to the perfect-in-every-way fairy queen and all will be right with the world again. I just have to make it through two weeks. I can do that – right?

Artie comments:               Right?

Description:                        (dummy sketch) A self-congratulating Snishwimble bounces on the left page while a tiny and very concerned Artie ponders his fate on the right.

Spread 12 (page 24-25)

Scrinch | Night 1 | Aunt Scrinch Marchioness

Artie comments:               Kind of shy until you get her talking about… squeezing
                                                She has more victims per night than any other goblin
                                                She will squeeeeeeeeeze everyone into her schedule

Description:                        (finished art available for this spread) Each night (and each respective goblin) gets one introduction spread to separate them like chapters. The spread includes a large portrait of the goblin standing in front of their name in large calligraphic letters. On the lower right is a much sloppier text block that says their name, their rank and their relationship to Snishwimble. Artie uses these pages to also add more of his own thoughts on each goblin (Artie comments).

Spread 13 (page 26-27)

Snishwimble:                      This is my Aunt, the Marchioness Scrinch. She will be your guest for the evening. She is already fairly on my side as far as the wedding, so this should be an easy one to start with. Ta. Poof.

Artie:                                     With the poof, he vanished, leaving me alone with a very skinny, bugged-eyed, lady goblin with curly hair that looked like it could eat my paintbrushes – or maybe had been used as a paintbrush itself?

Um – hi?

As soon as the little she-goblin entered my room, I noticed a change. Nothing seemed to fit in its place anymore. The drawers wouldn’t close because they were suddenly so full. My closet seemed to be stuffed to the point of bursting. And even the pages I was working on began to shift…so that nothing I was drawing actually fit on the page. At first, she just looked around. She seemed shy and didn’t really fit herself. I almost felt bad for her as she took a seat on the rim of one of my pencil mugs. She wasn’t going to feel any better just sitting there in silence. And I wasn’t going to get her to officially approve the wedding unless I did something. So, I started asking her questions.

I take it that your specialty is making things not fit where they’re supposed to?

Scrinch:                                Oh, deary, that’s only the beginning. You should see what I can do if you try to measure something. It will always be juuuuuust short. I can make even the most precise person struggle with space. I just can’t stand it when things sprawl over the place. Did you know I’m the grand champion accordion player of all the Calligrafae realms? I can play for you if you like – it’s so much fun to squeeeeeeeeeeze things in. In fact, I’m the only accordion player in all the realms.

Artie comments:               As I talked with her, I felt more and more cramped. Uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.

Description:                        (dummy sketch) Frame 1: Snishwimble introduces Scrinch who somehow doesn’t quite fit into the frame. An accordion stretches across the spread while Artie gets squished between text boxes.

Spread 14 (page 28-29)

Artie:                                      I kept her chatting all night as I watched my sock drawer overflow into my shirts. My pens, pencils and brushes all squashed in together in a single cup. I found out she loved really long words like flibbertigibbet (a silly person) and pulchritudinous (pretty) because they never fit anywhere. She also loved soufflés and balloons since they can be squished down to almost nothing. She hated yoga and stretching out and would actively avoid people that do that before a project. And if someone ever wrote her name out wide enough to fill a whole page – she would never be able to visit them so long as that page were around.

Ah ha! I just learned how to ward off a powerful goblin! Isn’t that fortuitous (lucky)! Snishwimble was right. I did need to write down what I learned about all his family. Even if I didn’t survive his curse, at least I could document all the ways everyone else could keep themselves safe. That’s when I decided to write this book. There are goblins out there and people need to know how to keep them away. Even if I start sneezing like a maniac in two weeks, at least, I can get this out there and save someone else. That’s art-ish in its own way.

I tried to clean everything up as best I could once she left, but it was quite the challenge. It took all the next day too. I was not at all prepared when Snishwimble appeared with his latest family member.

Artie comments:               So, this is the book – if you’re reading this, I hope it helps!

Description:                        (dummy sketch) An overflowing dresser sits on the left, with a small Scrinch hiding behind a lamp. A larger Artie sits on the right with a Scrinch happily perched on his head playing the accordion as he writes in (presumably) this book. Some of Scrinch’s favorite things dot the page… a set of balloons and some very long words: Perspicuity, Magnanimous, Fastidious, Pulchritudinous, Revolutionary, Flibbertigibbet, Indubitably…

Spread 15 (page 30-31)

Glitchitt | Night 2 | Aunt Glitchitt Countess

Artie comments:               Has a surprisingly good singing voice

                                                Her dream is to cause a kingdom-wide blackout – permanently

                                                Loves the smell of fountain pen inks

Description:                        (dummy sketch) The spread includes a large portrait of the goblin standing in front of their name in large calligraphic letters. On the lower right is a much sloppier text block that says their name, their rank and their relationship to Snishwimble. Artie’s own comments are scattered on the pages.

Spread 16 (page 32-33)

Snishwimble:                      I am continuing with my ladies-first approach. Tis only polite. So, this is my Aunt, the Countess Glitchitt. Ta. Poof.

Artie:                                     As soon as the Countess appeared, my lights flickered and my ceiling fan began to make a weird, glunker grunker noise.

Glitchitt:                               I understand that you are to argue on behalf of my young nephew, human.

Artie:                                     As she spoke my printer began spluttering out pages of colorful gibberish. My laptop began blaring a Russian radio station and my poor phone began telling me the weather – backwards.

I am supposed to talk about your nephew, madam, but I’d much rather talk about you. Your power over technology is – intriguing.

My microwave decided to start dinging every thirty seconds as my dishwasher somehow learned to cha-cha across my kitchen floor.

And much like the first night, a little compliment and a little interest was all it took to keep the goblin talking all night. Although it didn’t stop my dryer from spitting out 17 unmatched socks that, honestly, I don’t think were ever mine.

Glitchitt:                                I truly hate all the electricity and wires running all over the place. Everyone is so thoroughly glued to their tablets and computers and phones that they forget about paper and pencils and scissors and doing things by hand. Do you see this?

Artie:                                     Is that a mace?!

Glitchitt:                               It is my favorite potato masher. Two swings and every potato in range is perfectly pulverized. No food chopper-upper will ever beat the classic. It also works as a door knocker, a lock pick, a paper-shredder and a conversation-ender.

Artie:                                     Don’t you mean a conversation-starter?

Glitchitt:                               I know what I said.

Artie comments:               The weather seems nice in… Omsk.

Description:                        (dummy sketch) Frame 1: Snishwimble introduces Glitchitt. A mace-wielding Glitchitt  and  a laptop-holding Artie fill the rest of the spread. The laptop appears to be giving a Russian weather report.