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Alright, so as my post yesterday mentioned, I’m taking a Main Title Design course, taught by Ash Thorp over at LearnSquared. This lesson was about typography. The homework was to choose a sample logline and create three different cast-and-crew mock-ups, using different variations of the same font family.

I chose a horror sample called "Three Points," the logline of which is: A World War I pilot briefly loses consciousness inside of the Bermuda Triangle and upon waking, fails to discover land or water, and his gas tank remains full.

Playing around with the fairly standard font family Agency, I created three shots from three different title sequence options. I tried to keep the font fairly intact, making only a few subtle changes to hopefully connect it more to the plot ideas, of mystery and horror.

(Images 1-3 are one set, then 4-6, and then 7-9.)

@ashthorp

Haptic Glare

The Waves’ Revealing

Glow-wave.

When the World was Black and White.

ROOK. Favorite. Done.

“Many say the moon is closer to the dead.”

This is COLOR OF A MIRROR, my debut novel with an original, dark ambient soundtrack by composer Josh McCausland to go along with it.

Written, designed, and published by me, it’s the culmination of years of work, and it’s exactly the story I wanted to tell. It’s not loud or bombastic, but rather a cerebral, slow-burn cyberpunk narrative lingering on themes of fame, paranoia, religion, and technology. If you’re a fan of the brooding futures of William Gibson, Blade Runner, or anything with a mood like the movie Drive, I think you’ll find something to love here.

Available exclusively on my website, it comes in limited edition deluxe-hardcover, softcover, and e-book. (And if you’re a vinyl lover, the soundtrack is pressed in 180g Moondust White; also available on my site.)

Welcome to the Dive. Hope to see you around.

-Dan

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colorofamirror.net

(Book photos by Josh McCausland.)

Beginning of a Totally Unrelated-to-Anything Scene

The place was called “Executive Hotel”—it took a conscious effort to keep from thinking what sort of low-life executive would choose to stay in such a pisspot.  It looked more like a prison compound than the “Most Comfortable Stay,” as the sign out front bragged.  Sleeping beneath an overpass might have been better.

White paint peeled from the exterior walls, streaking the dingy surface with scars of brown.  Either it was the paint peeling to reveal half-rotted wood beneath, or it was mildew caused by some awful roof runoff.  I was certain to stay far enough away so the distinction couldn’t be made.  And the cars parked in the lot were in much the same condition, nearly every one of them a beater joint fit to throw a piston and clatter to a stop at any moment.  Paint jobs all dull tans, beiges, and sickly olive greens—or at least they had been, before the rust had begun to corrode the old steel frames—did nothing to improve my already low opinion of this fine establishment.

It was enough to make a man rethink the choices he had made in his life.  And as the shoddy suspension of my loaner car—only earlier that day, I had saved it from the scrapper with a quick exchange of five, crisp one hundred dollar bills—bounced over the broken cracks of the uneven lot, rolling like a drunken mule into the space outlined by two non-existent yellow stripes, I found myself doing exactly that...

On the Rail.

Modern Nouveau... Another one that I've come to like, abstract lines and shapes with hints of art nouveau.