Soon after starting "Love and Rockets," while still living in Oxnard, Hernandez and a friend met a boy of 9 or so who insisted they give him a ride. The kid sat in the back seat, playing with an army tank and talking a mile a minute.
At the time, they thought it was funny. But looking back, Hernandez realized how vulnerable kids are. "He was lucky he picked the right guys; we were the last ones to give him trouble." The new book, "Chance in Hell," takes an innocent and puts her in what he calls "a more harrowing setting."
Walking around for years with ideas that only gradually develop into full-blown stories is typical for Hernandez's way of working. But some things have changed since the days of "Love and Rockets."
"In the old days, it was like I was writing the Great American Novel: I only worked when the muse came; I couldn't force it. Now I know you can do a lot of boring, technical stuff while you're not inspired . . . so I don't waste time."
And these days, he said, he's not afraid to be indulgent and admits that much of his recent work is "near ragged. These days I make the mistakes. Because there's an energy to the way a filmmaker or artist or writer works at the beginning.."
As for Vegas, he still seems baffled by the Strip: "Once in a while I'll take a trip there with friends and go, 'Oh, yeah, this is where I live.' "
But his attraction to larger-than-life-characters in his comics may explain it in part.
"The professional fraud -- the blowhard -- has always fascinated me. As a storyteller, I've always liked the good lie." He's always been interested in professional wrestlers, as well as outrageous characters such as Liberace and the schmaltzy hosts of old horror films.
"People say, 'That's not true.' But I don't care -- I'm in this world where the story is enough for me."
