72. TAXES 2005

The weekend of Thanksgiving 2005, during all the online sales, I decided that if I'm going to buy a laptop, I might as well do it now, so that I could claim it for my 2005 taxes. I tell you, it and my ipod have changed my life. These diary entries are so much easier with my laptop.

I was able to throw together my taxes much easier this year, because I could take my laptop with me wherever I went - to work, on trips, into the family room - and punch in all my receipts and throw all the numbers together whenever I had a spare moment here and there.

If I'm at work, and I get a break, I can work on scripts, or diary entries, or whatever. I'm loving having a laptop. How did I do without it for so long?

2005, thanks to a great big royalties check for Ojo - and I mean HUGE! - I made twice as much money as the year before. I also claimed about half as many losses. But we punched in our numbers and found we were still due another huge write-off. The same amount as the year before. It turns out Elizabeth had gotten a raise, working for the state, and I guess that bumped her into a new tax bracket or something, and they took more out for her. Even though I personally owed more taxes and wrote off less, we're due back the same amount.

Last year I was a little nervous about an audit, because I lost so much money with my comics-creating business. But I felt all my claims were legitimate, even though they were huge. Now, this year, I was beginning to really sweat. Not only because I'm nervous about an audit. Not only because I've claimed stupidly large losses for the last two years, thanks to an impossible industry you can't hope to make a living at. But because I realized that if I don't start making a profit next year (2006), it may be hard to justify that I'm trying to do this as a living, and that it's not a hobby. The tax rules state that a business needs to make a profit three out of five years. This is my second year of not making a profit. If I don't make a profit next year, I can't make a profit three out of five. If the IRS feels strongly, they will be sure to call me on it, and not let me claim all my printing, advertising, convention costs, let alone all my comics, DVD, and book purchases.

And next year, I don't have any books lined up with Sam Kieth, to make me five times what I make on my own books. And in fact, I can't imagine publishing more than two books this year. I'll pop out a trade of my Doris Danger stories, and I'll collect the Lump into a trade, but by the time I finish those, the year will be over. I'm beginning to worry I could be screwed.

So, upon filing my 2005 taxes, I'm realizing this may be my final year to tell the IRS I'm a "Comics artist." They may say, Look, punk, you don't make any money. You're can't be a "Comics artist" anymore.

71. SELF-PUBLISHING BY AN ACTUAL, ESTABLISHED COMICS GUY

In the winter of 2005, Steve sent out an email announcing his plans to begin self-publishing "The Moth" and "Nexus," and asking fans what would be the best format. He was leaning toward a bi-monthly book of each, alternating months, or else a double-sized anthology, with both stories in it.

In my opinion, that takes a hell of a lot of balls, being a professional artist, who's done plenty of work for hire at all the big companies, and has admiration of the professional community and plenty of fans, to say, screw this business of working my balls down to little nubs, trying to get other people interested in a project I want to do. Screw all the big companies who think my project isn't marketable, isn't making the sales figures they need. Screw making all these calls and emails, trying to find someone who will back this, and getting the runaround, or else getting demands of what they want, which isn't what I want.

He said he'd spoken with and gotten advice from Mike Allred, who may be the only established professional I know who is able to regularly, successfully self-publish.

I want to do the stories I want to do, ge decided, and if no one will back me, I'll put my money where my mouth is, put aside all the hours and hours of extra time to get things printer-ready, get the graphics and logos and letters and title pages together, and just do it myself.

Steve had told me, during our phone call when he was working on my pin-up, that he was never really able to stick with one comics company for this very reason. Doing World's Finest or Fantastic Four or Spider-Man or Thor or Captain America may pay the bills, and be a nice project for a few issues, but he wanted to do books that satisfied his artistic needs. So he saw himself in me a little, I guess, since I just put it out there and published the stories I wanted.

Now of course the drawback is that these major companies get all the attention. They get all the front pages in the distribution catalogs. They get all the space on the racks in the stores. They can advertise their own books, inside their books, so that everyone who buys one of their books can know all the other books they need to buy. They've got all the money, and can afford to spend big on advertising. They have the name recognition from their video games and cartoons and movies and toys. And every time a self-publisher tries to go against that, it's a hell of fight trying to make it. Most of the time, people don't even realize you've put a book out, because it just gets buried under everything else.

So this is what I felt even a respected, well-established professional like Steve would have to overcome.

I wrote to him about my experiences, and how I'm finding the best bet for making some money would be either to put out one book about one character, or even better, put out one even bigger, more expensive book with one character, because nothing else sells in this market, but if you put out a bigger book, you can charge a higher cover price. I acknowledged that he's in a very different league than me, as a self-publisher, but that I suspect the principles of self-publishing are the same, big or small.

I never got a reply from that email, but he got a lot of advice from a lot of people. I think he got a lot of good advice, because it looked like a lot of store owners wrote in, further explaining the market and what sells, and all their advice mirrored what I'd experienced myself.

Good luck on this venture, Steve. It's a hell of an industry, and it seems like not many people can survive the self-publishing fight. But that makes it all the more exciting to root for the big boys who take a chance and try to break even at it. Because that would mean that maybe, if luck swings our way, that there could be some hope for the rest of us.

70. TRYING TO DRUM UP MORE SUPPORT FROM THE SKEPTIC SOCIETY

October 2005

Now that the Tabloia run was over, and as I was realizing how much money I lost from self-publishing, and as I was trying to find companies that might hire me for comics work, one scheme I boiled up in my head was to try contacting the Skeptic Society again.

I thought maybe I could use my Dr. DeBunko character, and rather than have him here and there as a back-up feature in my sporadic comics, begin writing his adventures for the Skeptic Society's use.

Daniel Loxton, who's in charge of Jr. Skeptic, and whose research I'd quoted ("ripped off") for the Dr. DeBunko Yeti story in Tabloia #576, had contacted me after I sent him a copy, and had been very supportive. He read comics, and noted my Sam Kieth and Mike Mignola pin-ups, so I knew this was someone who appreciated what I was doing. And obviously I really appreciated what he did, because the Junior Skeptic articles were my favorites. It made me feel a little "not smart enough for Skeptic," I supposed, to appreciate Skeptic subjects geared toward "juniors," as opposed to the kinds of skepticism "grown-ups" would want to read. But his "Jr." features on UFOs and King Tut's curse and the Bermuda Triangle were the tabloid subject matter I was looking for in a Skeptics Society.

We had emailed back and forth a number of times, and we hit it off. He had mentioned trying to get copies of Tabloia sold through the Skeptic website, since they featured Dr. DeBunko. Daniel imagined pitching Dr. DeBunko as "bridging the gap between academia and youth culture." We discussed some possibilities, as far as them buying some of my inventory, selling my comics by commissions, doing a link to my site, letting me run an ad, selling Tabloia five packs or Dr. DeBunko t-shirts and billing them as gifts for "that niece with the nose-ring that you don't know what to buy for," but we were never able to make anything come of it, when you also consider the Skeptic Society's budget and warehousing space. He asked if I had any other thoughts, and so I thought, what the heck, it doesn't hurt to offer...

I emailed him back and asked if there might ever be any space for Dr. DeBunko to do appearances as a teaching tool or icon or mascot in Jr. Skeptic, or for me to write an original Dr. DeBunko story for Skeptic. I was open with format, since I knew they might not have a full two or six pages per issue to sacrifice to my comic.

He was actually kind of excited about the idea. He'd had a heavy workload, and envisioned a couple pages put aside for a Dr. DeBunko comic, featuring the subject matter that issue would discuss, to punctuate educational points. If he could save himself the work of throwing together an extra two pages, it would buy him some time to compile a collected Jr. Skeptic hardcover project they were in the process of putting together.

We spent a lot of time emailing back and forth, discussing possibilities. Not story possibilities, but possibilities for how we might make this work.

His main concern was that Dr. DeBunko is pretty edgy, and Skeptic Magazine is not. Jr. Skeptic Magazine is supposed to be family friendly, and Dr. DeBunko is decidedly not. Dr. DeBunko is "mature" (meaning it's full of immature toilet humor and vulgarity), and Skeptic is appropriate and scholarly and ACTUALLY mature. He described Jr. Skeptic as the "Disney version of Skeptic: tight art, G rating, positive values." A mainstream, glossy production value. If Dr. DeBunko were in it, he would need to portray a different side. Be funny but educational, and not snide. Daniel said we should use Scooby Doo as our model, so that it's got some indie cred, but geared for grade 6-9, and parent and teacher friendly.

I told him I was willing to tone down the outright foulness of my stories, and could even do a cleaner art style. If he wanted to help with the themes or stories, that would be fine too. I'd be happy to work any story or style he wanted. I just thought it would be a fun experience, and a nice resume addition. So long as I had the rights to publish them myself at some time, I was open to the possibilities.

He finally said he would pitch the Doctor to the powers-that-be of Skeptic, as a one-time tryout. We could always wait and see how the reader response was. I thought it would be great to have a Dr. DeBunko comic published in my favorite, most highly respected magazine, by the only organization I've actually thought, I really want to support these guys. I was up for whatever they were willing to let me do. Daniel thought it was a win-win, and a good deal for them.

On October 21, 2005, Daniel wrote me the bad news that the higher-ups of Skeptic were not interested in adding a Dr. DeBunko strip to an issue of Jr. Skeptic. A number of reasons were given, many of which Daniel and I had already discussed. They didn't want to introduce fiction into the magazine, since they considered their publication an educational alternative to fiction. Humor didn't do well in their magazine, and the one humor column they had been including, they were planning to discontinue in the very issue Daniel had suggested bringing me in, due to poor response. They of course also thought my style didn't match up with their magazine's style. So it didn't work out.

Of course, I was disappointed, but far from devastated. I didn't know if it was going to happen or not, and wasn't getting my hopes up. And this was basically all the same experience I was getting from any editors I approached. They're familiar with my work (either because I sent it to them, or because they read Ojo), and some people even enjoy or appreciate it (or seem to), but don't have any work to offer me. If I get a response from them, it tends to be that they think I'm just not a fit.

I didn't want this rejection from editors to hold me back, so through it all, I just continued plugging away, writing and drawing whatever stories I wanted to tell. But this attempt at getting more Dr. DeBunko stories out had me thinking about and brainstorming some more Dr. DeBunko ideas. I went through my stacks of Dr. DeBunko notes at that time, and realized I had a few more stories I wanted to tell.

Within a few months, I would script, draw, and produce these stories as convention-only mini-comics.

69. BALTIMORE CON, DAY TWO

Sept 17, 2005

We went to straight to bed, once we found our hotel, then got up, showered, packed for our trip home (so we could leave straight from the con), and headed back to the con. We made even less money the second day than our pathetic first day!

We saw Mark Waid at breakfast, and good ol' Elizabeth sidled up and said, "Oh, Hi, Mark," and visited with him for a quick moment before we headed to the con.

As we came in, there was John Romita, sketching as fast as he could for a benefit auction, so we finally got to say hello. He was so sweet, and said his schedule is way too busy for additional work right now, but he still gave us his contact info. I was elated to get it from him. We talked a little about music, since I teach guitar. He plays organ, and said if he could have been a musician, he never would have gotten into comics. I had brought a hardcover of Spider-Man for him to sign. I wanted to bring two, because how do you decide if you want the one that has only his first two Spidey-issues, featuring Green Goblin, or the next volume, that was all his art. My backpack was so heavy, I couldn't bring them both.

Elizabeth went over and talked to Michael Lark, and let him know we were sad not to hook up with him last night. He said, when I told him about dinner with Dick Ayers, he wasn't sure if it was an invitation. Elizabeth said, "Michael, you're always invited." He said he saw Dick walking to the con this morning, and wanted to introduce himself, but didn't want to look like one of those shy fanboys. E offered to take him over and introduce him, but he declined. Isn't it funny how intimidated we get to meet the ones we adore?

I went to say good morning at Mart Nodell's booth. He's such a cute, sweet guy. I found out he's from Florida, and we're looking forward to seeing him in February at Orlando's Mega-Con.

While I was visiting, Walter Simonson had stopped over to say good morning. When I was working up the courage to introduce myself he took off.

E had told Michael he should come out to the West Coast Cons to hang out with us, and he told her that if we could all hang out together, he would. When I went over to see him, I reminded him that years ago I'd found his email online, not long after Batman: Nine Lives came out. I had written him and told him how awesome his film noir was. I assumed he was fifty or sixty, because who else would be into film noir?

I saw he had pages out, on his table, of a Spider-Man/Hulk battle. I wasn't aware of it; it had just come out. It looked gorgeous to me.

He said he's taking over the Daredevil books when Maleev leaves. I told him he'll do great on any of the noir characters, and he said, he does it like Toth, and just takes whatever character he's assigned, and makes them noir. Then he said, when Marvel wanted to put him on Captain America, he told the writer, I can't imagine doing Captain America unless it's during World War II, and the writer said, okay, and came up with a story. What fun.

He brought up the pin-up again, and sounded like he still wanted to do it. Somehow robots got brought up, and I told him no one's done a giant robot monster yet, and he got so excited, he said that's exactly what he's going to do. Said he's got a couple commissions and he'll do a robot too, and he's really looking forward to it.

Adam Hughes was at the con, once again mobbed and basically unapproachable. I tried a new approach. While Adam was visiting with his huge line of fans, I went up to his girlfriend, and told her about my project. I had spoken with her at San Diego. She seemed impressed with my book, like she was familiar with all the pin-up artists involved. I asked if he ever had time for a commission for something like this, and she convinced me that he's been busier now that ever. His work schedule is really heavy. He's got a top-secret new project in the works for DC, that could keep his schedule full for over a year. But in addition, he's got a heavy convention schedule. This year they did fifteen shows, and as a result he's been unable to finish all the work he needs to do. They were going to try to cut back to one or less conventions per month, to make time for this new, significant and high-profile, but top-secret-for-now DC project.

It was fun visiting with her. Enough so that I tried the same "get to the artist through the significant other" technique with Walt Simonson, who was mobbed every day.

At one point, I saw his line was short, but I soon learned it was because he was going to lunch, and the line was capped. He went to lunch with Michael Avon Oeming. Finally Louise came back from lunch, but Walter remained AWOL. I introduced myself to her, and she was quite pleasant.

Walter got back, and immediately had a crowd, and so I decided Louise was my in. I told her I wanted to show her my stuff, and she took her time and looked through all of it. She asked why Kirby-style giant monsters. I never did get a chance to talk to Walter, but I got his and Louise's emails from Louise. Walter, she said, continues to be very busy, but it won't hurt to check in every now and then.

We thought we wouldn't have to leave the con until 4:30 to catch our flight. The con ended at 5pm, so we thought we would catch most of it. I had gotten directions online that said the airport was fifteen minutes away. Even though our flight wasn't until 7pm, the car rental warned us that the airport is really busy Sunday evenings, and recommended getting there three hours in advance.

As I'm learning I just seem to fuck up anything to do with reservations or scheduling, this trip was no exception. The directions I had gotten were not for the airport we were flying out of. Our airport was actually an hour away, but only if there was no traffic or accidents. The moment I realized this idiotic error, we rushingly packed at 3pm and left the con by 3:30. As we bustled by, Matt Wagner saw us and shouted, "Chris, Elizabeth, are you guys leaving?" I was really touched that he called out to us to say goodbye. We quickly said our goodbyes to everyone else and headed to the airport.

We assumed the car rental dealer was full of shit, and just didn't want to get sued for idiots who miss their flights. But it turns out, that airport was a nightmare. We hit no traffic on the drive, and got to the airport right on schedule, at 4:30, checked the car in without a delay, and caught an immediate shuttle to the terminal, and were check in quickly. But the security check was a madhouse. It took us an hour to get through. The line looped back and forth across the airport, blocking exits, blocking everyone's check-in areas, winding snake-like up to the scanners. We watched a ton of people running with their bags, complaining their flights left, or lamenting all their missed flights. Amazing. I'm so relieved and shocked we caught our plane.

68. BALTIMORE CON THAT EVENING, Sep 16, 2005

I got a lot done that first day, as far as hunting down all these artists, introducing myself, and getting their contact information.

We barely sold any books. Almost no one came over to our table. The convention was set up so that all the indie artists were along two back walls. It was a gaping, empty area. All the actual, known artists were inside the mass of aisles, amongst one another. We were over by the women's restroom, in the back-most corner.

As the con was about to end, Lindy, Dick Ayers' wife, came over and said they were packed up and going to start walking back to the hotel. She told me they walk slow, and she was sure we could catch up and find them. We caught up with them before they got out the door.

It was a really nice walk with Dick. He talked about how many pages he'd done in his career -- over 50,000! -- and how few he actually got back from the publishers, and how over the years he'd see these missing pages pop up for sale. Once he contacted the seller and explained the situation, and the seller gave the pages back to Dick as a gift. But on other occasions, the people had told them they were sorry, but they weren't giving the pages back.

Dick talked about his new book, Chipps Wilde, and how the publisher wanted him to do a Western, and Dick said he'd do it, but it has to be in the 1920's so he could draw cars and planes too.

On the walk back, we met Joe Field, owner of Flying Colors Comics in Concord and man responsible for Free Comic Day, and Joe Ferrara, owner of Atlantis Fantasyworld in Santa Cruz and winner of the Will Eisner "Spirit of Comics" Award. While we were in the lobby visiting, a woman walked over and started talking with Lindy and Elizabeth, and then her husband came, and before I realized this was John Romita and his wife Virginia, the pair had disappeared to have dinner. I couldn't believe my luck.

Mart Nodell and his son Spencer joined our group in the lobby. Mart created the golden-age Green Lantern, and I found out he also helped create the Pilsbury Dough Man! Next thing I knew, we were invited by the Joes to join Mart and Dick for a delicious dinner. Dick talked about some of the experiences he had just put in the third and final chapter of his autobiography, which hadn't been released yet. He said at the Angouleme Comics Convention in France, the mayor treated Dick like a war hero (He had fought in the war), had him sit in front, and awarded him with a medal.

We learned Joe Field originally ran Wondercon in Oakland, before Comic-Con bought it up.

Next thing we knew, we were stuffed and it was 9:45. As we left the restaurant, Michael Lark grabbed us and told us his friends were leaving the bar, and he was joining them, so we wouldn't get to spend any time together that night. We were disappointed but glad to catch him, and he let us snap a quick photo with him. As he left we told Joe Field who it was, and Joe said, "Oh man, I love Michael Lark!"

When my first issue of Tabloia had come out, a friend of mine had gone to his local comics shop and ordered ten copies, and asked the store to leave these copies on their shelves. It was my friend's way to try and get my book out there into new people's hands. Joe now told me that it was his store my friend had done this. Small world. Then Joe said he's actually planned to carry the book, and had already ordered copies for the store, before my friend gave him all these additional books.

It turned out both Joes had published a comic. Joe Field's self-publishing ventures had guest artists galore, and he only sold 1600 copies. Then Joe Ferrara piped in that he had self-published a book full of guest artists, with only slightly better sales. I told them Tabloia's first issue had only sold 660 copies. They told me living legend Dick Ayers's autobiography had sold even less. Of course, those numbers are different, because the book had four times the pages and cover price, but it's still really discouraging.

After dinner we still hadn't yet checked into our hotel. We had gone straight to the convention. Just the same, we now chose to go to the bar, where we bumped into Matt Wagner and John Snyder. Both were very friendly and we had a nice visit. Matt mentioned meeting Craig Fleisher, creator of the golden-age Sandman, and I wanted to ask him about deciding to revamp the character, but we ran out of time. I would have liked to have gotten a photo with them, but I missed my opportunity.

As we left the bar, I realized I didn't know the name of the hotel I had booked, or where it was, and I had managed to leave our reservation info and directions in the convention hall. Between Elizabeth and I, we somehow managed to remember the name, and from there, we scrounged up directions. Oh man was that tense, wondering if we'd have to stay somewhere else and pay two hotel bills for one night. What a great day!

67. BALTIMORE CON 2005

I wound up speaking with everyone on my list who I hoped to find, except my Diamond Distributor Representative. It turns out he had walked right by our booth while I was out talking to everyone else, and even though I repeatedly went to Diamond's booth, I never found him.

I got contact info for every artist I spoke with, and there were a lot of artists there I was excited to meet.

I found Dick Ayers and his wife, Lindy, early during the con. He didn't recognize me at first. He said my hair was shorter now. It had been three years. I brought a stack of books for him to sign, and bought some of his sketches. I asked if there were any comics characters he'd like to draw that he hasn't had the chance to do yet, and he said, The Punisher.

We talked about meeting for drinks later. These plans were altered to having an early dinner, maybe something simple like burgers. They weren't in the mood, they said, for a fancy dinner. We decided to meet up after the con.

Michael Lark was very friendly, and even stopped by our booth. He glanced at my books, and then asked, kind of shyly, if he could do a pin-up for me. I couldn't believe my ears. I had been begging him, fairly regularly, to let me commission him for a pin-up, for years. I finally just stopped asking, because I assumed he wasn't interested. I was so excited now, I thought he'd be more inclined if he saw some of the other pin-ups, so I yanked out all my copies and started showing him all the pin-ups I'd gotten so far. My wife later pointed out, I didn't need to try to sell him; he had just said he wanted to do a pin-up. In fact, when I was done, he said now he felt a little intimidated about giving me a pin-up, because there were so many good ones.

We told him we were hooking up with Dick Ayers for dinner, but would love to hang out with him in the bar later, if he would be there. He said it sounded like a lot of fun.

See, now that we'd done the Bristol Con, we were learning how this convention business works. We realized now that all these people were from out of town, and had nothing to do at night except eat and hang out. So they're all looking for something to do, and most of them will be hanging out at bars and visiting. So we're learning to try and find out where the action is, and hang out with the people we'd like to get to know better.

Overall, I was really surprised by how short all the lines were for all these artists. At Mick Foley's line, I poked right to the front and asked, "If I get in line, would you let me get a photo with you?" He said, Yeah, sure. It just took a few minutes. Mick Foley looked a lot taller and thinner than I imagined him. After the photo and buying an autographed book, I was fumbling to put my change away and wanting to ask if he read comics and would take copies of my books, but next thing I knew, he was on to the next guy in line.

That was one disappointment for the show, that I didn't just hand him the books. Even if he would have taken them and just put them in the garbage.

Matt Wagner was friendly and fun as usual, and was also planning to be at the bar that night. Jon K. Snyder III was sitting with hi, and Matt shouted, "Hey John, have you seen this guy's stuff? You'll get a kick out of it."

I took my copies over, and the very sweet, very encouraging and positive John looked over my stuff and said he'd enjoy doing a pin-up some time.

Jim Starlin signed some books I'd brought, and said he was pretty busy, but may be up for a pin-up in the future.

I really liked Tim Truman's personality. He was real friendly and upbeat and energetic. He said Dick Ayers had been a teacher of his at the Kubert School. I'm so fascinated with Tim's art, but I don't really know what it is that intrigues me so. Maybe just because I enjoyed his Jonah Hex series for Vertigo so much. Tim said he would be up for a pin-up.

I poked my head over to the Top Shelf booth, and introduced myself to Chris Staros once again, and told him I would keep occasionally emailing him, and hopefully he'd have time to look over my books. The way he said all right, made me wonder if he recognized me (I think he did) or knew what book I was talking about.

The Simonson and Romita lines were actually the longest, so I didn't get to either of them the first day of the con.

Chaykin's line had been long much of he time. At one point I went over just as he was getting up, so I asked him quickly about commissions, and he gave me his card. Later, when I saw only one person talking to him, I went over. It was actually a long wait, because Chaykin was giving a valid, critical discussion of this person's artwork. When h was finished, I told him I thought it was great that he took that amount of time and care, and he said, Did I? I told him that so many artists just flip through and say, Well it looks good, but he actually had suggestions to give. I reminded him I was the one who had asked about commissions. When I told him I was doing Kirby-style giant monsters, he asked, Why??!? But when I started showing him all the pin-ups, he named each of the artists, and then kind of got into it, being able to tell who the artists were. I jokingly asked if I should cover up the signatures, and he said, Yeah, do it. So we flipped through and he tried to guess all the artists, and he got almost all of them. He didn't get JH Williams, which was fun, because Jim had told me Howard was responsible for getting Jim work at DC. When we had finished, he said, I don't know if I'm up for this (doing a pin-up). I told him, the theme is giant monsters, and he could do whatever he wants. Anything? He asked. How about Dick Cheney? I said, it's your pin-up. Whatever you want to do. I get the feeling he was thinking about it. I felt really nice about the exchange, because the last time I had met him, at a Wondercon, he had said he absolutely never does pin-ups. At that time, he had just gotten into comics again, and was pretty much only doing an occasional cover, and otherwise only writing.

Mark Waid I've been feeling like I see everywhere. He is absolutely so sweet and approachable. He had bought my Tabloia comics at a recent signing at my local comics shop. I asked if he'd had a chance to look at my books, and he said he's been too busy, but said he'll definitely be in touch.

66. PREPARING FOR BALTIMORE CON 2005

Editor's note: This is my first official "diary" entry, as opposed to the "memoirs" which were reminisced up until this point. This was hand-written on our flight back from the trip, with pen and paper.

Elizabeth and I went to Bristol Con this year in England, and then we popped over to London for a couple days and Paris for a few days. Despite receiving a TON of money from our tax return, the trip still managed to set us back about a month's pay. Not just the money it cost to fly over, stay in hotels, feed ourselves, etc. Also, I'm self-employed, and only get paid if I'm at the local music store giving private guitar lessons, so being on vacation cost me my paycheck for the ten days we were gone. We tried, after that con, to be more selective about what comics conventions we would schedule next. We would have liked to have hit a few more (SPX and MOCCA we've been dying to do), but we decided we'd better stay home for awhile and save up again.

However, some friends of ours in Alexandria just had a baby, so that was in the backs of our heads. I consulted a "comic book conventions" listings website which I've found very helpful, http://www.comicbookconventions.com/conventions.htm, and found the Baltimore Con, which was about an hour from them. When I went to the con's site, I saw Dick Ayers was scheduled as a guest, and the more I thought about it, the more I REALLY wanted to go out and see him. E and I decided it would be a good trip, and we scheduled it, after emailing Dick to make sure he would be attending.

I also emailed Michael Kaluta, who had recently NOT been to a number of conventions that he was listed for, and who I'd been trying to see again for some time. Once he cancelled an appearance due to illness, once he declined due to a heavy workload. For this one, he informed me he would not be appearing either, and he had told the con to remove his name from their guest list, which they soon did.

I was excited to see John Romita listed as well, as his line was so long at the only West Coast appearance I knew of, I didn't try to meet him at all. A few days before we left for the con, I checked the website again, and was pleasantly excited that Michael Lark had just been added to the bill. I emailed him that I was looking forward to seeing him.

At this time, Mick Foley, professional wrestler extraordinaire, had also just been announced for a quick, three-hour signing, and I realized I would be willing to wait in line to meet him as well as John Romita this year.

Other people listed were Matt Wagner, who always seems so friendly, and who promptly returned my email that he would be there. Walter Simonson and his wife Louise, who JH Williams III had introduced me to in San Diego 2004. At that time, he had said his schedule was so full, he didn't have time for commissions, and he didn't give me any contact info, so I thought this would be a good time to try again.

There were a number of artists I hadn't yet met who I was excited about. Tim Truman, Jim Starlin, and Howard Chaykin (who I'd kind of met, and had felt awkward and intimidated by).
I also found out my Diamond Distributors representative would be there, and let him know I was looking forward to finally meeting him, after a year and a half of phone calls and emails getting Tabloia on the shelves.

The reason I was so excited to see Dick is that I hadn't seen him since San Diego 2002, which was when we first met. I had tried to hook up with him for the Big Apple Con of 2004, but Dick had a conflict with the schedule and a heavy workload to complete, and ended up not making it. I was anxious to see him again, bring some comics for him to sign, and get some of my pages he inked signed (he signed a few of the stories but not all of them, for some reason), get a photo of us together, and hopefully have dinner together with his wife, Lindy, or breakfast, or a drink after the con, or coffee, or any time he had to spare that he was willing to spend with me.
We had left Thursday night on a red-eye flight, slept as best as we could, sitting up in a plane for five hours, arrived in Washington DC at 6:30 am, rented a car, and got out to our friends by 8:30 am, at which point we ate, then took about a four hour nap. We visited, and headed to the con the next morning, leaving at 8 am. The con opened at 10 am.

65. NIGHT TIME ACTION AT SAN DIEGO CON 2005

Elizabeth and I went and found Simon Bisley, who was gushing our praises, saying how we're the sweetest couple. We had a blast visiting with him

After the fun we had had at Bristol Con, hanging out in bars and visiting after-con-hours, we realized we should spend as much energy as possible trying to figure out where people would be hanging out at night, and then going to those places to try and spend time with them. This was a major game plan for us, and great source of fun this year around.

We asked Simon where he would be that night, and told him we wanted to hang out with him. He told us the hotel, but when we looked for him that night, we didn't see him. We did, however, bump into Mike Mignola. We told Mike about a Dick Clark's New Years Eve Party our friends had been given free tickets to attend, but when they got there, they found themselves forced to watch all the band performances on a screen. They'd been duped! All the "live performances" had been pre-recorded. And when they figured out what bullshit the whole event was, they realized they'd been locked in! They weren't allowed to leave, because the show wanted to make sure it looked like the place was so packed and fun all night, and it was a night of torture for them.

We went to another bar and saw JH Williams III, who looked very busy entertaining with his wife. We didn't want to disturb them, so we wandered around some more and found Peter Kuper. He was fun to visit with. He told me he'd gotten his start in comics as an assistant to Howard Chaykin. I never would have guessed this, because his art is so out there; I didn't know he ever did mainstream comics. He talked about his daughter, so Elizabeth bought him a copy of her favorite children's book, "The Paper Bag Princess."

We also saw Arthur Adams, who introduced me to some DC editors, and told them I'm a Kirby monster guy. Had a nice conversation with Mark Chiarello, who said he'd stop by our table the next day. He said he's a big Star Wars fan, and bought a light saber this con, which he plans to make a tax write-off, because he's doing a Star Wars comic. "Reference!" What a great industry, I say! He did come by our table, and I had the feeling he enjoyed my Kirby-style monster comics. He offered to give me contact info for Axel Alonso and Joe Quesada. Wow! He said he felt, based on the subject matter, Marvel should have a first shot at it. He also said "Solo" is his book, and he's been trying to convince DC to do a "Jack Kirby Solo" book, because there's a bunch of the King did for them, way back when, and I think he said a lot of it was never published.

The next day, we found Simon again, and told him we didn't see him at the hotel. Really? He said he was there, and pointed in the direction opposite where we knew the hotel was. But he was adamant, and we realized there were two of this hotel.

That night, we were headed to the hotel Simon said he was actually at, and was going to be at again, and there's Dave Gibbons outside the hotel. We say hello, and tell him we're meeting Simon, and he kind of gives a grimace like he swallowed something unpleasant, and then out the door walks Simon. We call him over, and Dave says hello to him, and Simon says, "Hey Dave, I've got a Superman story I want to pitch to you," and he goes over and mumbles in his ear, and Dave has suddenly looks taken aback, and settles into a look on his face like he's going to be a gentleman, but Simon said something really improper.

I ask him later if he said something to Dave that would reflect poorly on us, and maybe cause Dave to not care to associate with us anymore. He thought about it for a minute and said, "Well, no, I...well...I think...well, yeah. Yeah."

When we spotted him, Simon was leaving the bar and heading out for dinner with his friends, and invites us to tag along. So off we go. We're walking along the street, and Simon has a bit of a stumble to his walk, and one of the women with us falls down while she's walking. We see some punk kids that look and act like they could be tough gang kids, just milling around on the sidewalk, and Simon kind of sidles up to them with a sneer and gets up in one of their faces, and E and I aren't sure if we should run for it before trouble happens. We don't know what to expect. Simon kind of mumbles something in this guy's ear, then backs up a bit and waits, and the kid stares for a second...and then smiles, and the rest of the punks giggle. And Simon smiles back, and the two of them light cigarettes together and we walk on.

On the way to the restaurant, Simon bumped into a parking meter, and started mumbling to it, "Pardon me, ma'am. Oh, aren't you a lovely one."

At the restaurant, there were stairs going down to the bathroom. Simon went down fine, but on his way back up, looked a little wobbly. Then he paused for a moment, like he was going to pass out. Or like he was concentrating. All of a sudden, he squatted down and took a big leap, maybe three or four stairs up. Like as far as he could jump. This is a high end, crystal-and-white-table-cloths place. He landed unsteadily a stair lower than he'd attempted, and started to teeter backward. His hands flailed a bit, then grabbed the rail, and he steadied himself. What a show. But I'm thinking, What the hell is he thinking?! I was picturing, if he had stumbled backwards down the stairs, if I should try and help him up, or just keep going up the stairs and pretend I don't know him.

We had a really nice dinner. Elizabeth and I had already eaten, so we just visited. I told Simon that I hadn't been familiar with his work in England, so the first works I saw of his were the covers of Doom Patrol, and it seemed like I hadn't seen anything like them. Simon asked if those were before Lobo, and one of his friends said Doom Patrol was first. Simon talked about how he began working out in the gym, in large part, to help give him a better understanding of how the muscles of the human body work, for his art.

He just published a book of Christian imagery, and I asked him if he was religious, and he is very strongly NOT religious. I asked why the subject matter, and he said it began as just an exercise, and he did a sketch, and then he did another, and another, and next thing he knew, he had enough for a book. I asked why this subject matter, if he's not religious. He said, whether you believe in it or not, it's very powerful imagery, and a lot of good stories that make great images.

We had a really nice, personal talk about his family, and how much he loves his kids. Jim Williams had told us the bar he would be at that night, and we wanted to go spend some time with him, but Simon wanted to drink somewhere else, so we sadly parted our ways.

We hooked up with Jim ("JH") and his wife, and spent a little time with them. I talked a little about wanting to try and shop my projects to publishers, and he was a real good listener, and made suggestions of companies he thought I should try. He told me some of the behind-the-scenes going-on of Alan Moore taking his "Lost Girls" project to Top Shelf. Chris Staros feels it's a huge, important project, but that it could theoretically result in his company being closed and him going to jail, because it's hardcore pornagraphy. So the deal could literally make him or break him.

We didn't want to get too much in Jim's hair, and started to say our goodnights. They were so sweet; they asked us what we were rushing off for. We admitted we didn't want to wear out our welcome, but he and Wendy kept saying, Oh, please. So we stayed.

They introduced us to their friend Alex, who it turned out was Alex Sinclair. I didn't recognize him at first, but figured it out using my sleuthing skills (perking my ears when he said something about what he was coloring). I told him how kind he had been with my portfolio review way back in 2001, and how he had promised to put my work on an editor's desk. He said he thought he remembered all that, and seemed appreciative to be reminded of the story.

That night, someone told me a very entertaining Simon Bisley story, which they said they heard from Kevin Eastman. Simon is big on big fast cars, and was racing the streets in a Ferrari or something. A cop spots him and pulls him over, walks up to his window, and there's Simon wearing a Batman mask. Simon says things like, "Don't you know who I am? You can't pull me over. I'm Batman." Then Simon races off again, and the cop has to pull him over again. The cop asks for his ID, and Simon is reluctant to hand it over. Finally he gets his driver's license out, but tells the cop, "all right, but please keep this under wraps. That's my secret identity."

I accidentally found where Jae Lee was, because the con is so huge, you'll just be wandering along and realize things you want to see are going on all around you. I approached him, and he cut me off to tell me he was exclusive. I found Murphy Anderson, and he was clearly not interested in doing any drawings. I found Phil Jimenez, and he said he never does pin-ups under any circumstances. I found the Hernandez Brothers signing at Fantagraphics, and asked Mario if he could convince his brothers to come over to my booth for a photo, and he seemed stressed and busy, and I wished I hadn't asked. All this rejection began to wear on me over the course of the con. It's such an emotional, draining, experience, just the enormousness of the convention. My moods tend to swing really hard. I began feeling like, you know, there are only so many artists out there, and I'm beginning to run out of people I'd like to get monster pin-ups from. I started feeling like, is this my only way to connect with all these artists? And if there are no more artists to ask, and I've asked everyone else, does that mean I won't have any excuse to visit with all these people any more?

And never mind that I'd been hanging around with them at bars and going to dinner with them. Sometimes you just don't see the forest for the trees.

Overall, the con was a blast. We once again lost a ton of money, but that was expected, even though we had gotten a bigger booth in what we thought was going to be a better location. Elizabeth pointed out how important it is to go out at night and hang out with our friends. This year, not only did we get to spend some time with Peter Kuper, Simon Bisley, JH Williams III, Arthur Adams, Dave Gibbons, and Mike Mignola, we also met Mark Chiarello and Alex Sinclair. We were getting a feel for this convention thing now, and we were starting to make more and more friends in the industry, who would actually even hang out with us.

64. SAN DIEGO COMIC-CON, July 14-17 2005

This was our second year getting a table at the coolest comics convention of them all. Our first year, we'd sat across from Caveman Robot in the cheap "Self-Publishers" area. They had the idea for us to get a more expensive booth together to share, which would cost us each individually the same price. This pricier table would get us a better location with better visibility.

I was left to getting the paperwork in, so I chose for us to be down by artists alley, which seemed to get the kind of traffic I wanted, and which I knew was also where Mike Mignola, Dave Stevens, Arthur Adams, and JH Williams III had been the year before. Sure enough, all these great artists were there again this year, and we were between them and artists alley, which had tons of other great artists. But what I didn't realize is that they would put us basically in the "Fantasy Illustrators" area.

There was a sign directly above the aisle we were facing, and it said "Fantasy Illustrators," so if I saw that sign, I would assume that meant the whole aisle was full of fantasy illustrators. And that's fine and all, but I won't be looking for film noir mad scientist stories, and I won't be looking for a Caveman Robot. And so of course, when sales were once again so-so, it made me wonder if our new label helped with that.

As soon as we were unpacked, situated, and settled at the convention, I immediately went over to Mike Mignola, to see if he had original art for sale. I was surprised to see he actually had some pages from some of his books, and not just some sketches, which was all I'd seend the year before, so I promptly bought a couple pages (All I could afford). I asked if he'd gotten the copies of Tabloia I'd sent him, with his pin-up, and he had. He didn't say if he liked it, and I didn't ask. I did ask if he'd like some copies to keep on his table, and I wished I hadn't asked, because he obviously didn't. He of course was gentlemanly about it, and said he needed as much table space as he could get for all his own stuff. I really realized that I shouldn't ask artists questions like this, though, because it puts them on the spot. It's uncomfortable for everyone. I should have realized at Wondercon, when I'd gotten the same reaction from Thomas Yeates. But now I know. When an artist does a pin-up for me, I ask them if they'd like any copies, and they usually say "one," and I give them as many as they'd like, and thank them, and be sure to let them know how pleased I am with their pin-up, and leave it at that.

I had set up to get a pin-up from Dave Gibbons at Bristol Con a couple months earlier, and Dave said he'd have it finished and give it to me in San Diego. I gave my cell phone number in an email. I went over to the DC booth, and he was there signing. I quickly reintroduced myself, and he seemed excited to see me. He said he had the pin-up, and he'd bring it to our booth the next day.

Sure enough, I got a call at the con, and it was Dave. He confirmed our booth number, and headed over. It was exciting to have him come to the booth, so naturally we snapped a photo. He was in such a great mood, because the night before he'd been awarded an Eisner for "The Originals." He was so sweet with the pin-up too. He penciled it, and then inked it on a separate paper. He said, that way, if I wanted to try my hand inking it, or have a professional inker do the job, I was welcome to it.


Tim Bradstreet was as fun as ever. He got a real kick looking at my monster stuff, and said he really loved them. I always enjoy visiting with him.

I found Berni Wrightson in artists alley, and showed him the monster stories and pin-ups. Hadn't seen him for a couple years, and that first time he appeared to really love the stories, but this time, he didn't seem quite as interested. Didn't really care about all the pin-ups. Still wasn't interested in doing a pin-up himself. He had just gotten there, and was probably distracted trying to get set up. I bought one of his sketchbooks, and saw it was full of giant monsters. I went by later, and realized he had a ton of original artwork for sale, and a lot of it was giant monsters. I asked if he had any sketches of giant monsters he might be willing let me pay him to print in my story. He was telling me most of these monster drawings were concept art for films, and the film companies owned the rights to the work. The more I spoke with him, the more I felt like I was getting on his nerves. Certainly not the reaction I was hoping to elicit with a legend I admire as much as Berni Wrightson, so I thanked him and got away as discreetly as I could.

As usual, I popped over to Russ Heath, beginning to suspect he would never draw something for me, and had just been giving me the run-around all this time. To my shock, he said he was finishing up all his projects, and would probably have some free time for a pin-up in a month or so. He said someone who'd been calling him for two and a half years called recently, and Russ actually told him he'd do the sketch for him. The guy couldn't believe it. I told Russ, well I've been bugging you for over two years, so maybe I'll be next in line. He smiled. I didn't want to get my hopes up, though.

I tried to approach Adam Hughes again this year, but got kind of intimidated and didn't bother. I did buy another sketchbook though. I also learned, talking to Mark Chiarello, that Adam is a huge Star Wars fan. I brought that up, and told him I didn't have him pictured as a sci-fi guy. He said, he's not a sci-fi guy. He just grew up with and continues to love Star Wars, specifically.

I met Ryan from the band Pinback, who kindly bought all the Tabloias and went home and read them that night. He came back and said he enjoyed them, and brought me some CDs of his band -- which I didn't realize was so well-established in the indie scene. We were wandering around at one point, and he said, "You should ask Matt Groening for a pin-up of a giant monster. I just saw him right there...Wait a minute, where'd he go?" Then we spent the next several minutes trying to figure out where Matt Groening had disappeared to, and we never found him. I even went to the Bongo booth to see if he was doing any signings, and they said he's at the con incognito this year, and not making any official appearances.

A day or so later, I was just making the rounds, and I suddenly spotted the elusive Matt Groening at the Fantagraphics booth, talking with Gary Groth! Two guys I wanted to talk to! But I didn't have any copies of my books, and I didn't have my portfolio of all my monster pages and monster pin-ups. In a panic, I sprinted back to my booth, grabbed some books and the portfolio, and sprinted back! But alas, now both were gone! Drat! Did I learn my lesson! ALWAYS have everything you need to give out as handouts on you, AT ALL TIMES, because you never who you'll just happen to bump into! Always! Making rounds. Going out at night. Going to the bathroom or snack bar. ALWAYS!

I went and introduced myself to Scott Allie at Darkhorse. He was real friendly, and said he knew I'd come looking for him, so he had read a little of "The Lump" that I'd sent him. He told me that's one creepy story. I really appreciated that he said that. I told him I'd love if Darkhorse would publish the story as a trade paperback, and he got quiet. Ah well...

I had Elizabeth come with me to meet Gary Groth. He was talking with someone else, and all of a sudden, Elizabeth interjected in their conversation, "And I'll use that as an in to your conversation," and she introduced me as an artist of giant monsters. Gary and I were puzzled by her butting in. He had a guarded demeanor, like he knew I wanted something, and was just going to wait until I revealed what it was. I reminded him we'd met through Sam Kieth at APE Con, and he said that sounded moderately familiar. I showed him my monster stuff again, and he politely looked it over, but didn't have anything to say about it this time around. I gave him a packet of my books, which he took. I think he's gotten quite good at politely listening to artists making a pitch, and graciously accepting copies of the work. I'm sure he does it every con.

Later, Elizabeth told me she could have sworn Gary had been talking about Kirby-style giant monsters when she interjected. I bumped into him again and brought this up, and he said he'd done no such thing, and was puzzled by her interruption. I was able to smooth that awkwardness out by giving him a flyer to the upcoming panel I was on, about Espen Jorgensen's documentary, which Gary was going to be in. He said he didn't know about it, and thanked me.

Over the next few months, I sent Gary some emails, but never heard from him. I suspect he thinks I'm an annoying freak, because I tried to be clever with my emails.

I was excited to be participating in my first panel. It was headed by Espen Jorgensen, who's putting together a documentary on comics, featuring Will Eisner, Daniel Clowes, Chris Ware, Roberta Gregory, Denis Kitchen, Sam Kieth, Gary Groth, myself and others. He filmed me last year. There was a sparse turnout, and people left as we spoke. I (probably stupidly) tried to talk about my own comics whenever questions got asked. One person in the audience actually made a crack about how he was there to hear the topics listed in the panel description (and presumably not about me). Despite it all, overall I think it went okay. And I met Denis Kitchen and Roberta Gregory, both on the panel with me.

I spoke with Sam Kieth before the con, and he told me he would be going this year, but just for a couple hours. I was quite surprised, because last time I'd talked to him about cons, he made it sound like he never wanted to do one again.

After that, he said he wished he weren't going, because he had way too much to do, and maybe he could find some way out of it. And then he said with finality that he supposed he had to just go. I told him we'd have to snap a photo together, but hee said things like, "What does that prove? That we know each other? Everyone already knows that, because we worked together." He was very opposed to the idea.

At the con, his signing was right around the corner from me. He popped by our booth, and said he'd be back soon because he had to leave in an hour. And we didn't see him for two hours. I walked with him over to his signing area, and Alex Pardee, the third and final member of the Ojo crew, was there too. I was telling Sam, "This would be great to get a photo of all of us together, don' you think?" But Sam just curtly said, "No pictures." After the con, he actually called and apologized that he wouldn't take a picture, and he said he'd let me take a picture with him next time I saw him. I wouldn't see him for almost a year, but when I did, it was at a friend's wedding, and did we snap some pictures!

63. WHO'S THE ASSHOLE?

So to prepare the following year for San Diego 2005, an artist who did a pin-up for me printed up a sketchbook, and of course I bought a copy, because I love his pin-ups. Flipping through, I notice he's included the monster pin-up I commissioned him for and published in my comic. And that's fine, I don't have a problem with that. I think his fans would like to see it. The reason I felt a little irritated, though, is that he included a paragraph about doing the pin-up, but didn't mention where it saw print. No mention of my book, or of me. The reason it irritated me so much is that he wrote notes below all the pin-ups, about who commissioned them, or what he was thinking while he drew it. For my pin-up, he basically wrote, "a guy did a book that this was printed in, and I'm sure almost none of you had a chance to see it, because it had a low print run." So the reason I felt upset was, well if you don't think they had a chance to see it, why don't you tell them what book it was? Why don't you at the very least mention my name if you're talking about me? I thought about it for a day, then I sent him an email. I wrote, look, I'm a struggling self-publisher, and I paid your asking price to have permission to publish your pin-up in my book. I lost money publishing that book (I didn't even make back the money I paid you for the pin-up. And then on top of that, I had to pay for the other pin-up artists, Dick Ayers' inking, the printing....) I said, I don't mind if you use the image, and publish it yourself, such as in your sketchbook. But it would sure be a nice gesture if you could mention me or my book when you do.

I never got a reply from this email I sent, which I assume means he thinks I'm an asshole. But at San Diego, I went and said hi to him and told him who I was, and he was friendly enough. And ever since, he's been as friendly as ever. Sometimes, you just have to say something. But you have to be careful to try to say it in a way that's professional, and that you're not an asshole.

62. POST-TABLOIA

Well, it wasn't a financial success, and very few people ever saw or read my books, but I was able to finish a comic book story-arc, and put it out in print, and I was really proud of that.

Issue one sold sold 613 copies, despite a $2300 ad in Previews and $700 worth of promo posters sent to the top 600 indie-comics-selling shops (which I assume is all of them).

Issue two dropped to 315 copies. Issue three dropped even more, down to 260, even though I ran an ad in the Comics Journal and in Love and Rockets (since the issue contained pin-ups by all three of the Hernandez Brothers). Issue four dropped yet again down to a staggering 194. And the final issue only dropped minimally, down to 188. God, what pathetic numbers. And they just got worse and worse. The fifth issue was giant-sized and more expensive, so my assumption is that, the only reason its numbers didn't drop even more is that it had a pin-up by Mike Mignola in it. Also, Oni kindly gave me a free ad in the final issue of "Ojo," and I ran the same ad in the Comics Journal.

As you can see from the numbers, what little advertising I did may have helped the book's numbers not plummet...MAYBE...but never enough to justify the costs I spent for the ad. The entire five-issue run never grossed me back the amount of money it cost for that first ad in Previews. And THEN I have to deduct out the cost of printing and all the pin-ups.

I felt really lucky for Sam Kieth to have asked me to do Ojo with him, because I actually made a little money there, and what little I made got pumped straight back into the credit card debt I kept accruing with each issue I published. Whenever I looked at the Ojo work, I wasn't really proud of what I'd done artistically. I wish I could have done better. But I was proud to have helped my friend Sam.

So this was the frame of mind I was in when that final issue came out. Proud, but a little frustrated at what a financial disaster the book had been.

I mentioned it to Sam, and he told me I should not be afraid to contact editors, and send them my books and tell them this is what I'm doing. And then he said I should just pitch a few different stories and see if anything takes.

So with all this in mind, and realizing I'm losing too much money every issue I published, and having tasted a small meal of payments from Ojo, I decided to look into publishers once again, who might be willing to pay me a few bucks a page for my stories. I figured, even if they only pay me three bucks a page, that's considerably better than I've been getting - losing $50 per page, not including the cost of my pin-ups - as a self-publisher. Unbelievable to realize my page rate right now is to lose fifty bucks for every page I draw.

Darkhorse was my first choice, so I went to their website and looked at their submissions guidelines. It talked about filling out forms, submitting in a certain format, maybe not hearing back, signing a waiver, and on and on. And finally I just thought, screw this. I'm a professional now. I've self-published five books, and I did a book with Sam Kieth for Oni Press. That's a real company, so I must be a real artist by now. I looked in my Hellboy comics and found the email of his editor, Scott Allie, and I just wrote straight to him. I included a couple images from Tabloia, and I went out shooting. "I'm co-artist of Sam Kieth's "Ojo" for Oni Press, and I've been self-publishing a book featuring pin-ups by Mike Mignola, Mike Allred, Gene Colan, John Severin, Los Bros Hernandez, Tony Millionaire, and more. I've gotten favorable reviews at Fourthrail.com, comicbookresources.com, comixfan.com, ainitcoolnews.com, etc etc. My four dollar books are listed at Mile High Comics for eight or twelve dollars. I'd like to send you copies." Something like that.

He wrote me back within an hour, and I sent him copies that day, feeling like a real stud. I checked in with him over the next few months, and every time, he was real kind and funny, and just kept saying he actually carried my books in his briefcase to work every day, but was so busy he just didn't have time to read them. Seriously, this went on for months. Finally I had the opportunity to meet him down at San Diego, and he was once again real nice and funny, but as time went by, I began to suspect he didn't have interest in publishing a trade of "The Lump" or looking at any new projects I might have in mind.

I tried similar tactics with Chris Staros at Top Shelf, who actually read my first chapter of "Limbo Café," but said he wasn't interested. Next was Idea Design Works, who said they'd seen my work on Ojo, but when I sent them copies of Tabloia and asked about possibilities for future projects, they said their plate is full for at least the next year, and AiT/PlanetLAR, who said he'd been reading my Tabloias and enjoyed them, but I haven't heard back from him since I sent the Doris Danger book. I emailed Slave Labor, who didn't return my email. I've sent periodic emails to Fantagraphics, who I thought for sure might want to do a Doris Danger book with me, on account of I had the impression Gary Groth was impressed when I'd first met him at APE-Con. I suspect I've embarrassed myself with the emails I've continued to send him, or else that he's marked anything from me as "spam" and my emails go straight to his trash now.

At San Diego, I met Mark Chiarello, and gave him copies of the Tabloias, which he said he really enjoyed, although they weren't really DC material. He got me in touch with Marvel, who was relaunching some giant monster books, and I sent them copies, but they sent me a form email saying they weren't interested at this time, but would keep my work on file.

Lastly, I approached Oni, since they published my work, albeit through Sam. They said they don't reprint work such as my Lump story, because the reprints they've done in the past have't been successful. I wrote back asking if I could send them some new stories I'm working on, and didn't hear back from them.

Now I'm not saying that these people who didn't write back aren't interested. I probably should have continued sending emails, but I wanted to get my books out, and not take all this time waiting. That's why I ended up publishing the Doris Danger book myself, and that's why I ended up publishing the Lump trade by myself, and I may check back in with these guys occasionally, but until then I'll keep pumping things out myself. Because the bottom line is that I want to keep putting out books, and if I can't find someone who will do it, that's my only option.

61. HANGING OUT IN THE BAR AT BRISTOL CON 2005

I'd been told how important it is, when you go to cons, to try and find out where the parties are going on after hours, and do whatever you can to get there, because if you happen to find an editor or someone important, you could make an invaluable friend or connection. But I hated the idea of doing this schmoozing, and always just avoided this kind of thing. This is the con I learned not just the importance of going out to bars during the evenings of the cons, but how fun it could be.

The first night of this convention, we were just passing through the bar, and it turned out everyone was there. Everyone was staying at this same hotel, and there was nowhere else to go. Everyone was there. It was great.

We saw Dave Gibbons again, so I told E, "We've got to go over to him." I wanted to just remind him who I was and about wanting a pin-up, and basically shmooze a little. But I was shy and intimidated to just walk up and say hello. And that's why Elizabeth is so great. She's a cute blonde, and she doesn't know who any of these people are, even though they're idols to me. So she just walks right up to them, and says, "Hi, I'm Elizabeth. Are you having a good time?" Or something like that. And since she's a fun, friendly girl, who can get people talking really easily, no one minds starting a conversation with her. So I see someone else and turn around for a second, and when I see her again, she's already introduced herself to Dave Gibbons and told him what a fan I am of his art, and how excited I am he's going to do a pin-up for me. And now she's already done with her conversation and telling me about how he said he thinks it would be fun. We go back to find him together, and do some quick visiting. E is wearing her "Spluhh" monster t-shirt, which allows for some visual recognition of the kind of pin-up we've been propositioning him for. He's very friendly, but we don't want to overstay our welcome, so we move on after a few quick comments and jokes.

We found Simon Bisley down at the bar, yapping away with some kids. He saw us and recognized us, and got talking, and he's actually quite friendly and funny, and he wasn't acting all crazy or scaring us to be near him. He wore these jeans and a three-quarter-sleeve jersey - which it turns out he wore the entire weekend. His jeans were covered with blood, and we asked what had happened to him. He showed us this bloody tear in his jeans, then pulled up his pants leg and showed us this enormous gash in his calf. He had put a see-through plastic bandage over it, you could look right through it, and see it's about a three-quarter inch-long cut, and it's DEEP. We can SEE how deep it is. You can see into it, because it's just wide open and deep, and inside that deep cut is blood, splashing around, but held in by the bandage. "OH GOD! What the hell happened to you?" we shriek and wince

He said he passed out one night, and when he woke up, his pants were covered in blood, and his leg was "pissing blood." Because of his accent, we had a communication barrier, and were confused as to what he was trying to say about his leg "pissing." We had to ask if it he was saying he woke up and he had pissed all over his leg, or if he hurt himself so badly he began uncontrollably pissing, or if the wound had to do with "pissing," somehow. And he had to explain, No, his leg was shooting blood out of it. "Pissing" was just an expression he was using. Later, he said to Elizabeth and I that our accents were hard to understand, which just goes to show accents cut both ways. We really enjoyed visiting with him. He was hilarious, and we were a little afraid of him, because he's so big and muscular and intimidating.

While we were at the bar, I tried to ask Simon about what art he looked at, and what art influenced or inspired him. He wasn't interested in having the discussion. I tried to press it and ask it a few different ways, and finally, he just said, "Where did Jimi Hendrix get it? He may have listened to other musicians, but so what? He just came out of nowhere. There's no one like him." So influences don't really matter, was his point.

Elizabeth said afterward, you see, everyone has to be somewhere during the convention, every evening. We just have to find where they're at, so we can hang out with them. Valuable, valuable lesson.

We ended up doing pretty well at the con. I think having something that marked us as "different" may have helped. In this case, having a different accent, and being from far, far away, might have helped us carve our niche. Elizabeth and I also think that, as I don't do a superhero book, Europe is more open to non-superhero books. Who can say? We had a great time at this con though, just with all the fun, friendly people we met. The Bristol Con was intimate and encouraging, and we'd enjoy going back again.

60. MEETING AN ARTIST I WAS LITERALLY IN FEAR OF AT BRISTOL CON 2005

We sat next to the gang who self-publishes "Brodie's Law," a hot British indie title. They were really friendly, and amazing marketers. They had people buzzing up to their table the whole time. They're able to sell out their books every con they go to. Maybe it helps that Alan Grant wrote the scripts, or that Simon Bisley did the cover for their trade. But man, to see them work it and get people excited about their book is amazing...and frustrating that I don't have those marketing skills. They said they call every shop every week to check on sales, see what they can do to help promote, make sure everyone's stalked. One of them does a full-time job just with the promotion.

Since Simon did the cover for the upcoming trade, we found out he was going to spend some time at their table, right next tous! I was excited and nervous about this.

I'd heard stories about Simon Bisley being a drunken prick. A real lush and asshole. I've loved his artwork, but never tried to meet him at any cons. I'd heard his lines were always really huge, and once you got to the front of his line, he'd slur some mean comments at you and draw a horrible stick figure piece of crap, and piss you off with his rudeness and leave you really disappointed. But I was still kind of excited that he'd be right next to us. I didn't know what to expect.

He was definitely a wild one, and Elizabeth and I felt a little in danger sitting right next to him. He was supposed to be there, and no one knew where he was, and all of a sudden he came stomping over, all shouts and attitude and attention-grabbing, and sat behind the table with us. There was a pack of punk kids who followed him over, waving their books and pens, swearing, telling dirty jokes, laughing. They had cigarettes and booze, and were drinking in plain view, setting their drinks on the table, on top of comics, etc. Simon was shouting and being obnoxious, and if he or anyone else did something rude or illegal (drinking at the con, for example), he'd shout out, "Security! Get these punks out of here!" At one point, I guess he didn't feel there was enough of a crowd at the table, so he started shouting, "Simon Bisley signing over here!"

He was having his band of thugs pass him cigarettes to take drags from. They brought hard alcohol and beer to mix, and put Simon in charge of the mixing. He didn't have any cups or glasses, so he grabbed the hard alcohol and gulped - and I mean pounded - half the bottle down, then pulled a beer from where he'd stashed them under his table and told me to pour it into the hard alcohol container. I'm not a drinker, and was having a little trouble understanding his accent. When I started trying to do what he said, He chastised me that I had to do it behind the table, so that no one would see, and he finally judged me incompetent and took everything away from me and did it himself, which was what I wanted to begin with.

One kid was actually trying to get Simon to sign one of his comics this whole time, and Simon would take it and open it, then make jokes and shoutings and get distracted. Then he'd smoke, drink, and never sign the book. Finally, after this had gone on for some time, Simon noticed the kid was still hanging around, and tried to get him to move on, so he could deal with some more of his fans. The kid said in exasperation, "Would you sign my goddamn book?"

Simon said, "With what?" The kid pointed at the pen Simon had thrown (or maybe knocked, while thrashing his arms about) onto the floor. Simon said, again, "With what?" And he looked where the kid was pointing. "With the chair?" that was behind us. He got up, then picked the chair up and held it over the book, and began doing a writing motion with the leg of the chair, which I assume dinged and scratched the book up a fair amount. I was afraid to look.

Finally Simon began doing some sketches for some of the people in line, in their sketchbooks. Most of his sketches were enormous, impossibly-proportioned erections spewing semen. One person asked him for a picture of a shrimp, for some reason This same person had me draw a picture of a shrimp, and his entire sketchbook was full of shrimp sketches. And I don't mean pictures of small, whimpy people. I mean, the kind of shrimp in the sea, that you eat. Simon I think drew a car running over the shrimp. It was in fat permanent ink marker, and looked like maybe a fourth grader could have hashed it out. This was the quality he had been drawing all his sketches.

I disappeared for a while, and when I got back, Elizabeth looked like she was getting pissed. Simon had been telling her what he could do with his cock or his tongue. I was dreading having to say something if he kept it up while I was there. Sure enough, he made another comment.

But this time, Elizabeth said, "Simon, I've heard that people who talk a big game don't bring a big game." He replied, "Well said, luv, it's true I've got a small cock." And ever since that he was a perfect gentleman to both of us.

Elizabeth called him "the walking party," and Simon liked the sound of that.

We met him again that night, and I think that's when we all started growing pretty fond of each other.

59. BRISTOL CON, MAY 14-15, 2005

Elizabeth, my wife, has always wanted to travel, and I have never had any particular desires to do so. I decided, Heck, if I try and get this comics career going, hitting some comics conventions in different places would be good for spreading the word about my work and hopefully building up a fan base, and it would serve the double purpose of getting us to different places, so that Elizabeth is having the opportunity to travel. It's gotten so bad, that friends tease me, "You know, Chris, you could go somewhere that there isn't a convention." But what crazy talk that is! There are conventions EVERYWHERE! Take this one, for example. Elizabeth had said she wanted to go to Europe. We talked about going to a con in France called Angouleme, but the timing was kind of rough, and after hearing from the runners of the convention, it sounded like it would be difficult to get a table. That's when we found the Bristol Convention in England. Perfect!

We flew into London, then took a bus to Bristol safe and sound, checked into our hotel, and wondered what we were supposed to do next. I had brought the organizer's phone number, and he said that things were getting started that evening. We went down to the hotel's lobby, where we were told things would be happening. There were a few interviews of some of the bigger names at the con. It was a relaxed, intimate setting, and afterwards, looking for Michael, the con organizer, we met Dez Skinn, the other con organizer, who we took to right away. He had an odd, sort of cranky sense of humor. We ended up visiting with him at the bar for the rest of the evening.

Next day, the con began, and we were kindly positioned right near the entrance. I was looking forward to hunting down Brian Bolland, Mike Ploog, and Dave Gibbons. I knew Simon Bisley would be there as well, but I was a little afraid to meet Simon, because I'd heard some horror stories of how rowdy he could be.

Early on, I actually saw Dave Gibbons standing around nearby, so I got up from my table and went up to him. "Are you Dave?" It was him, all right. I made my pitch, and showed him my folder full of all my Doris Danger giant monster drawings I'd done, and all the pin-ups involved so far. He looked moderately interested, and asked, "And are you paying anything for these contributions to your book?"

"Naturally. I would want to pay you what your time and talents are worth to you." He seemed friendly enough, and gave me his email. Wow! Dave Gibbons!

I found Mike Ploog fairly early, and he was easy to approach. He said he was pretty busy, but to go ahead and contact him. I also found Bryan Talbot and Paul Grist.

Brian Bolland didn't appear at the con until later on, and from the moment he did, he had a huge line waiting for sketches. In the past, I would have gotten in line and waited to talk to him. But I figured, Now I'm a professional. And all these people are waiting for either a signature or a sketch or whatever. I just want to talk to him, so I rationalized it should be okay to just do that. I cut in front of everyone, which still took some time and some waiting to get through the crowd. When I finally got into position, I leaned over the table and said, "If I could just introduce myself while you're sketching," and I made my pitch and showed him some of the pin-ups, and he was interested. Or at least friendly about it. He said my project reminded him of the old Strange Adventures, and I reminded him he did a great "Strange Adventures"-style giant-monster cover for Animal Man. "Yeah, I did, didn't I?" he replied. He kindly gave me his email as well. Wow! Brian Bolland! Unbelievable! What a great con!

Later at the con, I met a self-publisher, who told me he had been in line when I approached Mr. Bolland, and he wished he had had the guts to approach his favorite artists like that. He said he'd love a Brian Bolland cover for one of his books. So everyone take note! You're all free to ask, fans! You just have to hunt them down. And they may not say yes. But if you ask enough people, a few of them might say yes. I'm living proof of it.

It turned out, someone told me Brian hadn't been to this convention for maybe seven years, so I lucked out just happening to come out to this particular convention to meet him.

I'm a huge, HUGE fan of his Judge Dredds. They were some of my favorite comics during my formative years. I wish he did more comics work, besides covers. Always great to see his covers, but just the same...

58. APE-CON 2005, SAN FRANCISCO CA

My first table at an indie-convention. I felt hopeful that I would do better here than San Diego or Wondercon, because those are both fairly mainstream conventions. I hoped people would appreciate my black and white aesthetic, and my non-superhero stories. I had three issues completed, and a handful of Ojos as well. However, I wasn't sure if the more artsy, considerably less mainstream APE-goers would appreciate my more mainstream sensibilities in art and production.

I thought this con would be the big test, to see if I could fit in here or not, with what I viewed as the "cool people," who liked "cool stuff that's too cool to be mainstream."

The floor of APE is vast, but in addition to the floor, there were two aisles, separated from the floor by a staircase. These aisles were completely isolated from the action of the floor below, and I seriously doubt if many people even realized they were allowed to go up there, where all these other artists were. Of course, naturally, I was up in this area. It was one of my worst conventions ever, sales wise. I was surprised how little I sold. I would be staring down my aisle and seeing maybe two people in foot traffic. And then I'd look over the balcony behind me, and see down at the floor, that the aisles were swarming with comics buyers. I had thought my sales would increase each time I had more at the table to sell, but this con was the first to prove my theory wrong.

I like to blame it on this unfindable location where I was placed. Or I like to blame it on the aesthetic of my books, compared to the aesthetics of an "indie" con. Or I like to think maybe my work is so sophisticated and complex that it scares people off. I like to blame it on anything besides myself and my work.

While I was sitting around, I saw Mario Hernandez visiting with other booths nearby (he's local to this convention), and when he saw me, he said, "Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you." I had emailed him to pop by and say hello, after having a nice visit with him at Wondercon. He was signing at Fantagraphics with his brothers, and wanted to see if I could give him a few copies of my book to put out at his booth, since all three of them had giant monster pin-ups in it. I was flattered. He came back later and said he sold one to another artist. This kind act was the reason I gave him a special thanks in issue four of Tabloia. After his signing, he came and sat with me at my booth and visited. I couldn't believe it, having Mario sitting behind my table with me. It was really fun. Every now and then, some people would poke around at my stuff, and I'd actually find myself not even bothering to try and sell or promote my work, because I was enjoying hanging out with Mario, better than actually trying to make my table costs back.

I took some time away from my booth to find Daniel Clowes again this year. He didn't seem to remember my monster stuff that I'd shown him a year before, but I reminded him he had told me that maybe this year his schedule would be a little better. He said, actually it's worse, because he just had a baby. So I guess there's always next year. Mario Hernandez later told me Daniel works really slow, and I'm sure that doesn't help.

I knew Seth would be at the convention, but didn't know when I'd have a chance to go over and try to meet him. I was seated near the panel discussion area, and glanced up, realizing that a Seth panel was coming up. There was someone that was getting attention from people, standing outside the door. He wore a very sleek, gray, three piece suit. He also had some kind of retro, stylish hat (it makes me wish I knew my wardrobes better), a walking cane, and white gloves. I had a feeling this could be Seth, and went up to him to try and read the name on his badge. Of course it was face down, so I finally asked if he was Seth and introduced myself. He removed a glove to shake my hand. He was the image of posture and manners. I showed him my book, and he showed interest, and voiced an appreciation of the giant monster stories, which surprised me. Who knew how far the Kirby-fandom spreads! He said he was very busy, but to feel free to contact him. He passed me a business card, which read, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance" and his email. Interesting fellow.

Elizabeth, my wife, came down Saturday, but couldn't make it Sunday. She got a ride home with a friend. It was good to have her there that first day, because it gave me the chance to poke around a little. I was out of luck for this on Sunday. I wound up just sitting behind my table, with no one coming by, since I was tucked up away in a weird corner that no one realized was even there. Finally, after just sitting there for so long watching nothing, I pulled out some blank sheets of paper, and started jotting down brainstorms, general situational plots, or even dialogue and scripts for Doris Danger stories. I plotted out about four stories, and was busting myself up behind my table. The few people that walked by my table must have thought I was a lunatic. But even though sales were poor, it felt really productive getting all that Doris Danger work done.

57. WONDERCON, Feb 18, 2005

My first table at Wondercon, in artists alley. There was a place on the exhibitor sheet asking where I would like to sit. I requested to sit by both Ryan Sook and Mick Gray, who I knew had sat together the year before. I assumed I would be so low on the totem pole, they wouldn't give a shit what I requested, and I wouldn't get to sit by either of them, but when the seating assignment came, I was located between them both! I thought that was so cool, and immediately emailed them to let them know they would have to be my neighbor.

They were both sweet with their replies. Ryan said he didn't mind a bit, and Mick made a crack about, "Oh man, you better keep me entertained."

Overall, I did well at the convention. Mick Gray didn't show up until later in the day, and next thing I knew, someone else had stolen his seat. I was a little irritated about that, because when he showed up, he wound up sitting somewhere else, and I didn't have a chance to spend time with him. But I thoroughly enjoyed sitting with Ryan.

I kept cracking dirty jokes or swearing, and he always laughed really hard, but never joined in, and it made me wonder if I should lighten up. After the con, I emailed what a nice time I had with him, and that I hoped I hadn't been too strong a flavor. He wrote back that I kept him sane. That was the nicest thing he could have said.

The first day, I basically sat at my table the whole time, which was quite uncharacteristic of me, because I like to move around and find artists to do pin-ups. I just get anxious and restless. I was there alone, but Elizabeth came the second day, and allowed me time to do my poking around.

My books sold relatively well. What I would do is glom onto Ryan's line. And while people were waiting, I'd say, "You guys have to see this pin-up Ryan did for my book. Yeah, it will be out next month, but while you're waiting in his line, why don't you flip through and see these other pin-ups I've gotten, from Mike Mignola (I had a copy of it I could show to people), Mike Allred, Sam Kieth, The Hernandez Brothers." Desperate, shameless ploys, riding on the names of my pin-up artists, but I spent a lot of money on them, and they hadn't generated the sales I had expected. I felt I'd earned the right. And it was absolutelt true that if people realized what I was doing, some of them would give the book a try. So people would look, and some of them would be impressed, and a few of them bought my comics.

This was the first con I was asked to do sketches. The first sketch I did was for Nick from Texas, who was sitting with Ryan, and had done his website. He had a Hellboy book, and he had asked a bunch of cool artists to do sketches of any character from Hellboy. I wanted to do something different from all the other sketches in there, so I did Hellboy with the giant horns still on his head. He was impressed that no one else had done the horns yet. I used a lot of black, and when I handed it back, was a little concerned that maybe it wasn't a good sketch. When he received the sketchbook back, he looked at it, and had a look on his face like he was getting high from the fumes of the permanent marker, because I'd used so much black.

I also did a sketch of some girl character from some girl comic I wasn't familiar with. The girl who asked for the sketch said what a fan she was of this particular book, and she knew the artist, and she was doing the official website or something, and she would post the sketch. I never figured out if or where that sketch was posted somewhere.

I did a sketch of the Hulk I was pretty proud of. I did a sketch of Batman that I would be afraid to see again, because somehow I don't think it turned out well. That taught me that sketches can give a lot of artists anxiety, because sometimes the pen and paper just don't go your way, and you have to make the best of it.

Approached Dave Stevens to show him my monster stuff. He said the stuff looked familiar, even though I'd shown him three or so times by now. I asked if he might ever have time to do a pin-up. He seemed to get irritated, like people had been asking him for commissions all weekend, and he REALLY didn't want to do commissions for people. It reminded me of the first time I'd met him, maybe around 1997 at a Wondercon, and I mentioned I'd seen him on tv for a Betty Page special. And back then he'd seemed irritated, because the special had been recorded years ago. He had just said something short and got up to take a break.

This time, he said, he keeps telling people, he's done it all before, and he just wants to do something new and different when he draws, and if I like his drawings, I should just buy his sketchbook. Instead of pointing out to him I've been coming up and saying hi to him every West Coast Convention for at least the last three years, and showing him my monster stuff every time, and instead of pointing out that I've already bought all his sketchbooks, and some of his prints as well, I told him I thought it would be so great if he drew, for example, a pin-up of a giant gorilla hand reaching through a window and grabbing a woman, like in King Kong, or a pin-up girl on a beach, and the cameramen all leaping back in horror, because behind her, a huge creature is emerging from the water. But this just got him more irritiable, and he said, Already done that! Already done that before! He seemed genuinely irritated. I retreated as quickly as I could, apologizing as I went.

Elizabeth came the next day, and I asked if she would go over with me to talk to Dave once more. We went over, and I was really nervous. I told him, I'm sorry if I was pestering you too much about a pin-up. But I want you to know it's because I'm such a fan of yours. "It's out of love," he said, joking. I asked him, since he said he's done it all before, if he had any drawings or sketches of these giant monsters he'd said he'd done, lying around that hadn't seen print, that maybe I could buy the right to publish in my book. He said he couldn't think of any. So for example, I said, you've got that sketch of the Rocketeer cover with the gigantic hand grabbing him. He said, yeah, he couldn't think of any off hand, other than that one. So we left with him saying, maybe he'd poke around and see if there wasn't anything. I felt much better about that.

I learned a couple things from this exchange.

First of all, the comic convention setting is an ultra-surreal, ultra-stimulating, ultra-stressful environment. You have hundreds of people coming up at you throughout the day, making and asking smart comments and questions, and idiotic comments and questions, and you have to be careful to just go with the flow. If I piss someone off, it isn't necessarily me. It may just be the long, annoying days. It may be poor sales that particular day. It may be a lack of sleep from trying to connect with editors the night before. Or hell, maybe it is just me. Maybe I'm really fucking annoying.

Also, even if someone is wearing a very distinct outfit, such as an ugly tie, that you would think would stand out in everyone's mind, and even if they're showing you artwork of giant monsters inked by Dick Ayers, it's easy to forget who's who, or forget what you've seen or said or done or been told. So if I'm going to keep approaching the same people year after year, it's a good idea to always remind them who I am, and not assume they remember every little thing about me. Just because the exchange is so important to me, doesn't mean it will stick out to them.

Third, just keep trying until they do remember you, and don't take it personally if they don't. Just try again, and be just as patient and explanatory, and if you sense they're getting irritable, just ease off. There's no hurry. They're going to be there year after year. And maybe one year, you'll catch them in a good mood. I've caught a lot of people in not-good moods, or in stressful or scattered stages of mind, and I've always eventually caught them in good moods. I'm talking about everyone. Even if I've had a terrible experience with someone, I've managed to catch them in good moods at another time, and to realize it isn't ever personal. There's just always too much going on.

Even though we were in the cheapest area (artist's alley), it was my best con to date for sales. I wasn't sure if it was just a good con for me, or if it was because each time I had more books at my table, I sold more (I had three Tabloias out now, and maybe another three Ojos).

56. THE SORRY FATE OF TABLOIA

My first issue of Tabloia had only sold 613 copies, despite a lot of money to Diamond to try and come out of the gate with a decent-sized advertising bang. I'd run a full-page color ad in Diamond's Previews, which cost me $2300. I'd spent $700 printing up mini-posters, and another hundred to get them sent out to indie-supportive comics shops across the nation. I thought, well the sales weren't great, but word will spread, and reorders will come in, and it will all work out okay.

I did get reorders...but only for six issues. Not enough to make any difference. Just enough to realize I can't count on reorders to pick up my initial sales numbers. I began to feel pangs of worry, but it didn't really affect me until the second issue was released, and its sales dropped almost in half, down to 315. Still upset, I thought, if only people find out about this comic, it will catch on. Or at least maybe steady out. I was doing signings, getting interviews and decent reviews, and going to conventions out of town. The orders can still pick up, the orders can still pick up...

I was tempted to speak with my representative with Diamond. I was tempted to say, "Look, I spent three thousand dollars for my initial push, and I haven't made any of that money back. Couldn't you guys do a little spotlight on my book, since it's got all these great pin-up artists? Or do a little interview? Or just spotlight me in some way?" But instead I chose to take the coward's route. I realized I didn't have a lot of bargaining chips, with a failing book, so I just tried to keep inconspicuous, and not stir up any dust. I hoped if I didn't bother him, I could keep under his radar, and my series might slip through the cracks and continue to get published. Naive, and maybe not the smartest way to handle it.

Now I was sweating, but still holding out hope for my third issue. When those numbers came in, I knew it was just a matter of time. Now my orders had plummeted yet again, now down to 260. I was devastated. This was when I wernt over to Sam Kieth's house. This was after running an ad in the Comics Journal, and in Love and Rockets, since my issue had pin-ups by all three Hernandez Brothers. I knew it was hopeless, and just a matter of time. I was a walking dead man.

On November 9 2004, after the numbers came in for issue three, but before I'd gotten it back from the printer, and immediately after submitting the product info for issue four to be listed in Previews, my representative at Diamond delivered the death blow for Tabloia, in the form of an email. He was very sweet and professional about it. He reminded me that not even my first issue had made the benchmark for sales, but that they let the title run for a few more issues, just to see if it had any chances of picking up. Since the sales had continued to drop, he said it was time to cancel the book.

He suggested combining books, and doubling the page count. He said, then I could charge a higher cover price, and maybe that would help me to make the benchmark requirements.

I gave this some thought, before replying with a begging email. I said that Tabloia's first story arc was supposed to run six issues. Would he consider letting me put out the fourth issue as planned, and then doing a final, double-sized fifth issue to round up the series? Pretty please? He agreed. I was relieved.

But what a blow, knowing you've spent all this time on a story that you thought would be really good, and that you thought other people would enjoy. Drawing it the best you can, putting all your money into it, to the point that you've gone into debt, publishing it and getting it into stores, only to learn it just isn't a success, and people aren't or don't want to read it, or worse, maybe they tried the first issue and decided they didn't care for it, and now it's going to be cancelled.

I realized how lucky I was that I hadn't tried to do a ten or twenty issue story, that would have gotten cancelled after three issues. At least I would have the opportunity to finish my story. I realized, from this point out, it would be a good idea to only do three issue stories, because anything longer than that would probably not get to see completion in print. What a sobering thought. And what a difficult industry, if you won't necessarily get to finish a story you started.

55. CLAIMING 2004 TAXES

When I first started trying to publish comics in 2004, I lost so much money and fell so deep into debt. I had paid thousands of dollars for the inks by Dick Ayers and all the great pin-ups I'd gotten. I'd printed three books, and it had cost me thousands of dollars. I'd thrown thousands of dollars aside on advertising schemes, and none of them paid off in sales, and all that money was gone in a blink, with nothing to show for it. Our credit cards, which I was hoping would be paid off by then, were getting higher and higher. I was beginning to get stressed, and that stress was a consistent buzzing in the back of my head all the time.

It took some months to add up all my receipts and figure out my taxes. My dad was a huge help, because he has a computer program, and it asks you questions, and you answer them as you go, adding up the numbers it tells you to, and before you know it, you've got your taxes figured out.

The good news was, I lost so much money trying to publish comics, I got a huge write-off. HUGE. We were such a financial failure, our tax refund allowed my wife and I to pay for our trip to Europe and the Bristol Con, and we still had enough left over to get Elizabeth laser eye surgery. It was such a huge return, I was really nervous the government would give us an audit just out of sheer spite, if not to see if I really knew what the hell I was thinking trying to claim so much. But our numbers were legit, and I assume that for a beginning business it's natural to have some start-up costs, and the audit never came.

Here are things I claimed, in addition to printing costs, pin-up and inking costs of other artists, and advertising costs.

Monthly DSL bills, since I'm finding and making all my contacts with pin-up artists, doing research, finding images to reference with my art, and more, online. A portion of my phone bill, since it's now my business number. A portion of my rent, because now the extra bedroom is my office where I draw, scan, contact other professionals by phone or email. A portion of my utilities, because a portion of that electricity is used in my "office."

Buying a new computer, scanner, printer, ink cartridges, mailing supplies for when I sell comics online, stamps for sending review copies to reviewers. Fonts, website fees, work-related computer programs. Art supplies. Paper, pencils, brushes and ink. Rulers, French curves, t-squares. Furniture, such as art lamps, tables to draw on, chairs that don't screw up my neck while I draw. Storage containers and file cabinets.

Comic books I bought, as story and art research. It's my industry of choice, and I need to keep up to date on what's going on. Plus get inspiration for my own ideas and see how different artists handle things that might give me difficulty. For that matter, make sure I'm not just doing the same old boring thing everyone else has already done.

Books I bought: Same thing. Mostly story and writing structure research.

Audio books I bought. Story research, as well as an office supply, because I listen to them while I work.

DVDs. Storytelling research, as well as immense photo reference. Film is the most similar medium to comics out there, because it combines text and images. You can learn a lot from how films are structured, so long as you don't lose sight of the fact that they are still different mediums.

Movies I go to. Research in story and pop culture. The only problem with this one is that I pretty much never go to the movies any more, because I don't really enjoy the experience any more. But it's a legitimate expense.

I rent a storage space, because I've printed so many comics that haven't sold, we just simply ran out of space in our tiny apartment.

Airplanes and hotels and transportation and food and convention fees and rental cars and parking, for our business trips to conventions. Mileage for every time I drive to a comics shop, art store, visit to my storage, or convention we don't fly to. If we fly, I write off the mileage to and from the airport.

It seems weird to write off all these, basically entertainment items. It's all stuff I get immense pleasure in. Everything that gives me pleasure now is technically my business research, so I'm rewarded for my hobbies. It doesn't get cooler than that. It's like Mike Allred had told me, "Work is always going to be work, but if you can make it something you love, it's so much better." However, if I had gotten an audit, I had ammo in my guns. I had been saving receipts for comics-related purchases five years before. That five-year period is when I began writing and drawing stories that were published in Tabloia. Technically I think I could have claimed all that as "start-up fees" for research, self-educating, etc. So if they had called me in, and said, "You owe for this and this," I would have retaliated, "Well, while I'm in here, I had some questions about this extra five thousand dollars in receipts I didn't claim, and maybe we could go through them together for the next couple hours."

But man, you hear such horror stories about audits, you just dread it happening to you.

54. GOING OVER TO SAM'S HOUSE

I had a stack of Ojo pages that I wanted to deliver to Sam Kieth, and was doing errands in Sacramento one day, so Sam invited me over to his house. He was heavy into the Ojo film at this point.

He took me inside, and first he played me some music he'd written, and sound-effects mixed in. He brought up how, unlike him, I don't just dabble in music, I make a living at it. (My day job is teaching private guitar lessons.) I didn't realize it, but he was asking my opinions on different tracks and trying to find out which ones I liked better. I don't know if Sam's way of asking me opinions is too passive, or if I just don't listen well, and can't tell that's what he's always asking me. I tried to give my advice and personal tastes the best I could. When I listen to that kind of stuff I just enjoy experiencing something new, and enjoy knowing it's made by my friends. I'm not usually in a judgemental, critical, "which is best" frame of mind.

He showed me some experimental clips they'd taken of the Ojo baby monster, for the scene when Ojo is running through the office, up along the tops of the wall separations between desks. Sam was insecure that it wasn't scary at all, and that it just looked like little rubbery toys on puppet strings.

I suggested that maybe the best way to make something scary would be to show as little of it as possible. Lots of shadows, and only the quickest cuts of the actual monster. Have you ever noticed that often in films, especially older films before CGI, that the movie would take its time revealing a monster? It would maybe just let you hear it for a while, and then you'd see just a clawed hand every now and then, or a foot and some drool, or even just shadows. And then you'd see a person reacting in fear to whatever he/she sees, and then the camera would pan away as you hear a jarring yucky sound, with roaring and screaming, and maybe some skin-slashing or whatever. And those scenes are always pretty scary, but then later in the movie, when you finally see the monster, it's not nearly as scary, and you wonder why they had to try and show the monster. So we discussed trying to use techniques like this, especially since he has such a small budget.

Sam confided to me that he's basically self-financing this whole movie project, and he just can't afford to do all the things he'd like to do. And he had to tell all the actors, I'm sorry I can't pay you, but this gives you something for your resume at least. It makes me realize what a struggle it is to try and put a movie together.

He took me down to his garage, and showed me the Ojo Mamma monster. Sam's built this giant eye, with a blinking eyelid. And he talked about building the molding around this eye, and his plans for constructing a jaw, and all this stuff. Talk about a basement construction. It was fun to see all these things he's been up to, and watch how they work, so early in the process, before they're finished.

I had sent him an email a day or so before, because I had just gotten the numbers on my third Tabloia book, and they were just continuing to drop in sales, and I was feeling pretty discouraged and upset.

As I was leaving, Sam just kind of mentioned that he was sorry I didn't get the sales numbers I was looking for, and said that ultimately what I have to do is make a name for myself and find my fans, and it just takes time. He pointed out that Daniel Clowes was doing Lloyd Llewellyn for years, and the sales were really low, and everyone would see him at conventions and go, "Oh, it's that guy," but no one really cared particularly for the book or work, and it didn't make much of a scene. But for some reason, when Eightball came out, it just hit people right, and it really caught on, and the "Ghost World" movie was a success, and now Daniel Clowes is the shit.

Sam said that he has a core audience of about five thousand, that he knows will always buy anything he puts out. When he does a superhero book the numbers go up, but he's always got his core audience. He recommended I just keep putting out my own stuff and trying to find out who my audience is, and not worry so much about depending on my pin-up artists, and trying to drum up their fans. It's a matter of finding my own fans.

So how does a struggling self-publisher get out there and find fans, if he can't find a way for people to look at his own stuff, even if he uses the pin-ups of other artists to try and get people to at least open up his book? There's the trick of getting into this industry, and a trick I haven't learned yet.

53. WORK-FOR-HIRE, OR PERSONAL PROJECTS

I first became aware of this difficult balancing act with Sam Kieth.

I pretty much only read superhero comics, and older ones, at that. Not because I think they're really good, and other comics aren't any good. Not even because I think they're any good at all. It's just what I gravitate toward. It's what I grew up with. And as an extension of that, I always imagined that if I got into the comics industry, I would do superhero comics. Sure, the first comic I wrote was a talking heads book devoid of action or costumes or super powers, about an atheist. Then I did the Lump and Dr. DeBunko (more talking heads books). But for some reason I didn't realize that superhero artists don't do these kinds of stories. I always assumed this would somehow eventually get me work for a mainstream company, doing mainstream work. I used to spend time thinking about what superheroes I might be good at writing. I know you can't just suddenly start on Batman or the X-Men. I know you would start on a lesser title and prove your merit, and work your way up.

So I would speak with Sam Kieth, and he would be doing a Venom cover, or a Hulk or Spider-Man story, because they pay so well that he can't turn them down. And if I ask him what it's like doing all the greatest of characters, he doesn't really think much of it. He doesn't seem proud about it. He practically groans, like he wishes he weren't doing it. He'd rather talk about his own stories. He doesn't really enjoy these high-profile superhero gigs. So why does he take them? For Sam, they are a means to help him get by financially while he does Four Women or Zero Girl, or even to finance my paycheck for "Ojo."

I read an interview of Jaime Hernandez, and he talked about going through basically the same thing Sam was going through, but choosing a different path. He acknowledged that there are comics he could do that would make better money, but he's chosen not to do these kinds of stories. He does his Love and Rockets book, and it's critically successful, but the simple fact is he's making less money than if he were to get into the mainstream. The trade-off is, even if he doesn't make much, he's being able to continue doing the stories he wants.

It seems outrageous to me that the people who I assumed were so successful, and who were celebrities of the highest caliber to me as a kid, are just scraping by, so to speak, to make a living, to pay the bills.

I heard an interview of the Coen Brothers, whose films I adore. I assumed they were superstars. I assumed actors would be swarming them to be in their films. But it turns out, Hollywood's the same way, and their artistic merits are highly respected by critics and actors. However, these attributes aren't as highly respected by the box office. Those Coens could make really good money, if they wanted to do Blockbusters. But they have no interest in it.

It's the same in the music industry. Bands like the Ramones, who shaped punk rock music and all the bands who followed them, never made a fortune. Music, or acting, or art...it's all just a job, and it's a better job than fast food, but we're all just doing what we do so that we can have an apartment to live in, and some money for groceries.

Each of the Hernandez Brothers has their own projects they do now. They tried to end Love and Rockets, and just have their own books, since each of their stories are so different. But they found their sales numbers just plummeted when they were on their own books.

The comics market is so odd. You'd think if a successful artist did a different book, fans would know that they like this particular artist, and find the artist's next book and buy it. But whenever artists do this, it seems that oftentimes the fans, or bookstores, or whoever, don't make the effort to find these projects, or maybe they just don't even realize it's being done, or (shudder) aren't interested in the new project for some reason, even though they liked the one before, and so no one hears about it or reads it. So the Hernandez boys realized the marketability of their "Love and Rockets" title recognition, and decided they'd be better off to go back to it, and continue with the "Love and Rockets" banner. They restarted the title, and then just continued telling their own, separate stories. The stories that as separate books didn't sell, had perfectly good sales when re-packaged together as "Love and Rockets."

Tom Coker and Keith Aiken, who I met through my old comics shop haunt, "The Comic Box," both got into the comics industry, but have moved on to doing movie storyboards or cartoon layouts; that kind of work. They can't make any money as comics artists, so they had to get jobs that could pay them a decent salary. Tomm tries to come back to comics a few issues a year, because he loves comics, when he can afford to make less for his work. This industry is such a labor of love for so many people.

Howard Chaykin left comics for fifteen years to write for television. He admits he wrote BAD television, but did it anyways, because he made better money doing bad television than great comics. Also because he knew he couldn't get benefits or a pension in comics. He finally got his pension, and now he's finally doing comics again, the medium he loves.

I read Dick Ayers' autobiography, which was three volumes. The first volume was getting his start, and the second was his work at Marvel during the superhero boom of the sixties. Reading through these, his beginning years looked like a constant struggle to try and get work to support himself and his family. Never knowing if he would have enough jobs to keep himself afloat, and always out hunting down an eight page story here or there, and praying for a monthly or even bi-monthly book, and dreading that it would get cancelled. I read this thinking, Man, he's going through the exact struggles I'm going through now. But wait until that Marvel craze hits. I can't wait to hear about the successes he had during that era.

So I read volume two, covering the Marvel years, and slowly it's setting in on me that the "Marvel silver age" wasn't that enjoyable for him. He made it sound like he continued to struggle to get work, as much as when he was starting out. He continued to pound out pages as fast as he could, and keep trying to scrape up work. He would think he'd have work, and it would get scooped up by another more famous artist. He always wanted to pencil and ink himself, and maybe write. But he got kind of stuck as an inker. When he finally landed a steady Sgt Fury gig, he was made to get inked by others.

It wasn't until the third volume of his autobiography that he finally began to get recognition for all his hard work. And this was after getting blackballed by the industry because he didn't think it was fair that Marvel give him less work, and then reprinting his old work and not paying him for reprinting rights. In the eighties, he was doing janitorial work, until Neal Adams finally helped him get work at DC. Finally, in his retirement years, fans and the industry finally acknowledged all he'd given to the artform.

So I realize I'm going through a shitty, frustrating struggle, just trying to self-publish my own books, but there's a sort of sick comfort knowing everyone else in the industry, everyone, struggles. Whether they're peons like me, or superstars and legends. Everyone I talk to says they claim losses for their taxes for the first five years, or the first twenty-five years. There's just no goddamn money in this industry, it seems, and it takes everyone years or decades before they see any reward for all their hard work and talent. It is such a labor of love.

I go to cons, and I'll be sitting next to self-publishers, and they're all nobodies like me. But even if they have great, name recognizable artists, doing covers and sometimes even pencils for them. Even if they've had Eisner nominations for "artist most deserving of a wider recognition," or "best children's story," or "best humor publication," they're all just struggling, and it seems none of them are able to land work, and we all just continue plugging along and doing the stories we want to tell, and trying to make it.

52. SOME ARTISTS I SPOKE WITH AT THE BIG APPLE CON, 2004

52. SOME ARTISTS I SPOKE WITH AT THE BIG APPLE CON, 2004

MICHAEL KALUTA

At the last San Diego Con, I had told Michael Kaluta we would be out at the Big Apple Con, and he said he always goes, even if he doesn't have a table. We spoke about seeing each other then, and maybe further discussing a giant monster pin-up.

The second day, I spotted him wandering about and visiting with artists. I kept my eye on him, as he slowly made his way down our hall, making long pauses at various artists' tables. Then all of a sudden he began to cut away down a different alley. I shouted "Michael!" from across the hall. He turned and said, "Don't worry, I'm planning to come down and see you."

He visited with someone else for awhile, and then popped over to say hello. It was a quick How-do-you-do, and I introduced my wife, and he mentioned giant monsters in diapers, and walked off. It didn't feel like much of a visit. He didn't mention a pin-up at all. But it was nice that he took the time to say hello at least.

LARRY LIEBER

I think it was on the second day that I went to listen to Gilbert and Jaime in a panel. When I walked in, Gilbert made a crack about the "monster guy," or something like that. It was flattering and embarrassing that he would call attention to me in front of an audience like that.

Halfway through the panel, Elizabeth poked her head in and whispered to me, "I'm sorry to leave the table and interrupt this panel, but I thought you'd want to know that LARRY LIEBER is upstairs waiting for you!"

Dumbfounded, I went up with her. Larry had been flattered by the letter I sent him. I had mentioned that I recently learned he had scripted many of the monster stories, and that they and his western comics were some of my favorites. I had also sent him copies of my books. He hadn't been aware of the comic convention, and wanted to check it out. But he said he also came to answer some questions I had asked about his career in comics.

He said back in the early days at Marvel (which may have been Atlas or Timely at the time), his brother, Stan (that's Stan Lee, folks!) was so busy trying to do so many books, he asked Larry to take over some of the scripting. Stan continued to give general plots to all the stories, and Larry wrote the dialogue. But according to Larry, Stan thought Larry did a terrible job, and actually fired him. Then a little later, Stan called Larry back. Stand told him he had hated his writing, and hired some other writers, but they were worse. So then Stan hired Larry back.

Larry said that the monster storyline he was most pleased with was when the giant monster was a computer, and no one could stop it, and it looked like it was going to enslave the planet. And then the janitor came in and unplugged the computer.

Larry said that he was very proud of some of the names he came up with for Marvel characters. He said he came up with the names Tony Stark, Henry Pym, and Donald Blake. I later read an introduction Stan wrote to the Iron Man Masterworks hardcover, where he ruminates about usually making sure his names have alliterations. He didn't know why he chose not to alliterate for Tony Stark's name. Hm, I thought. I think I know why now.

Larry said he can look at something and draw it all right, but he has trouble drawing things from his head. He said Jim Steranko gave him one of his favorite compliments: that Larry can out-Kirby Kirby.

Larry said he looked through my books, and was really impressed by my use of blacks to define shapes. I was flattered.

I of course asked if he might be willing to do a pin-up for me. He said he's just too busy, since he's been doing the Spider-Man newspaper strip for so long.

I introduced Larry to Gilbert and Jaime, and to the convention workers. While walking him around, Steranko spotted him, and shouted, "Larry!" They spoke for a while, and I left them alone.

We said goodbye to Larry and pointed him in the direction of the exit. Then, about twenty minutes later, he's walking by our table again, and doesn't even notice. He looks kind of puzzled, or bedazzled. "Larry!" we call him over. Oh, he seems relieved. He's been trying to find his way out of this maze of a room all this time. He's been completely confused and lost. So I walked him to the entrance.

I remember realizing at this con, now I sit behind the table. People are coming up to me and showing me their work, and asking what I think. They are giving me free copies of their comics. This is a strange phenomenon. I am no better or talented than them, and they haven't seen and don't know my work, but they see me as some kind of expert with knowledge and power or money. They see me as someone to give them work. They think their work is good, and I will be wowed into wanting to hire them to write stories for me, or to draw for me. What a strange industry.

I disappeared from my table for a while, and when I got back, I saw Elizabeth was experiencing the joys of being bothered by what we learn just pops up at conventions every now and then. Namely, the comic book freaks.

I missed all the action, but supposedly this person came up to her and just started doing all these high-pitched annoying cartoon voice impressions, without explanation. Never explained why he was doing them, or what he was doing. She'd smile politely and try to start a conversation, and he'd break into a new impression, and then stare at her, and do another. He'd try and hold conversations with her using these voices.

Finally someone came up to the table, so she focused on the new person and did her best to ignore the freak until he went away. What he wanted, and why he thought using these voices would get it for him, we may never know.

STERANKO

Now it had been maybe six months since Steranko had given me his email, and we had discussed doing a pin-up. I had not written him during that time, because I was so intimidated by our meeting, but also because I knew I couldn't afford to pay him what he was asking. Nervous, but not wanting to avoid him, I asked Elizabeth to go over to him with me. I introduced myself as the guy wearing the ugly ties from Wondercon, who had asked about a commission of a giant monster. He jabbed, "I can see you're still wearing it" (the ugly tie). "No, this is a different ugly tie," I told him. "I've got a closet-full."

He mentioned I hadn't contacted him about the commission, and I apologized. I introduced Elizabeth as the "girl of my dreams," and he said, "Oh yeah, well you sleep on a lumpy mattress." Elizabeth and I both thought, "What does that mean? Is it some kind of crack about being poor or something?" The reason we thought it was a "poor" crack is that he had made a number of these throughout the conversation, about my ties and general clothing appearance. We finally decided, after a week or so, it must mean my sleep is uncomfortable as a result of my lumpy mattress, and I have bad dreams, and she's the product of these nightmare visions I have in my unsettled sleep. Why would someone say those kinds of things to people? It's like being a caricature of a jerk. He's not a jerk like an actual person would be a jerk. He's like J. Jonah Jameson. He's like the kind of guy that's just putting on an outrageous act of being a jerk, just because it's so over-the-top that it's actually funny. What a personality! What a persona! I have to admit, as much as I'm intimidated and just plain afraid of him, I really enjoy him. He makes me laugh.

So he continued to make humorously insulting and derogatory comments, and I told him I sure do admire him, and hope we can work out something so that I can get a pin-up from him.

51. BIG APPLE CON SEPT 18-19, 2004

I had been to New York a couple times, in college, because my sister moved out there for a few years. Elizabeth had never been, and wanted to do lots of traveling. We also knew Dick Ayers was in New York, and I thought it would be great if we could do a con where he could join us.

I picked out the MOCCA con, and told Dick I would pay for a table and dinner if he would come out and join us. He mentioned it was a long drive, and parking was tricky, but made it sound like he would probably do it, and I was pretty excited about that.

Then I went to the MOCCA website and realized they had sold all their tables. That's when I found the Big Apple Con, because I still wanted to try and do a New York Con, for Elizabeth, and to pair up with Dick. Dick said he would be a featured guest at this particular Big Apple Con, but would come sit at my table for an hour. I thought that was fantastic.

The week we were getting packed to come out, Dick told me that it turned out he wasn't a featured guest, and wouldn't have a table of his own, and he had a lot of work to do anyways, so he wasn't going to come out to the convention. I was disappointed, but at least I still had a fun trip to New York, and a convention to shop my first two issues and Ojo. And then we'd spend a few extra days in New York, which I knew would be fun.

We got there, and it's a really peculiar setting. It's kind of maze-like, and feels a bit like a warehouse. It's kind of claustrophobic and weird lighting, and confusing to find your way around.

We found the artists alley, and asked where we belonged. We were escorted to our table, which turned out to be in a narrow hallway. Our "table" was only two feet wide, since there wasn't really any room for an actual table in this hallway. From the artist alley, if you looked around, you wouldn't even notice the hallway, or if you did, you'd assume it didn't go anywhere. So no one knew, or thought to look, for where we were. We didn't get any traffic from that direction.

Before the con, I called Irwin Hasen to let him know I would be there and give him copies of issue #2, since his pin-up was in it. I also wrote to Bill Sienkiewicz (since he was also in the issue), Larry Lieber, and Murphy Anderson. None of them were listed to be at the con, but I knew they all lived in or near New York, and said what a fan I was of each of them, and let them know that if they were in the area I would love to meet them.

My hope is, having two issues of Tabloia out, SOMEONE would come to the con and say, "Hey, I saw your stuff in a store and picked it up, and I really enjoyed it." It wouldn't happen again until May 2006.

I was excited that Jaime and Gilbert Hernandez were featured guests at the con, and excited but a little nervous that Steranko was also featured. It was fun to say hello to all these guys.

Being in New York, we poked around the city a little. We popped into two major comics shops, and both of them had copies of Tabloia. Isn't that a fun feeling, knowing your work is in stores all the way on the other side of the nation. I thought, this is all a very good sign. My book is out there, and it'll catch on.

Before we left the con, the convention runners asked me to write a blurb about how much I enjoyed the con. I wrote a paragraph I thought was funny, and THEY EDITED IT! I talked about how I was an unknown comics artist, but after the con I was a national celebrity. They removed my last sentence, which was, "We would definitely like to come again, especially if we aren't stuck in the back hall by the emergency exit." Which they shortened to, "We would definitely like to come again..." DOT DOT DOT!
And so I begin to learn why you want to just say sound-bites, and not big long sentences that can be edited and manipulated.

50. OUT-OF-TOWN SIGNINGS

Now I'd done a few local signings, and experienced San Diego behind a table. My book was out there in America, across the nation. I knew I had to try and keep getting my book out there, and try and somehow build more interest.

Neighbors Bookstore, South Lake Tahoe, CA, August 7, 2004

I thought I had done quite well for my local comics signings. Considering I only had one comic and some t-shirts to sell, I was making a fair chunk of change. But on the other hand, I realized, if I had another signing, I'd better find a bigger fan base, because otherwise all the same people would show up (or not show up), and they'd already spent more than they should have to try and support me, and I wouldn't have anything new to sell them.

The final "first issue" signing I was excited to get set up was in my home town of South Lake Tahoe, where my parents still lived. I still had some friends up there, and my parents still had a lot of friends up there, and I wanted to see them all and show them what I was doing. I wanted a place I could do a signing, and then I wanted to have everyone over for a barbecue afterwards.

The bookstore, Neighbors, was pretty much brand new, and by far the nicest bookstore in Tahoe. It was well-lit, spacious, and easy to find. My parents said they thought having an actual "signing" would be better than just a barbecue. Because Tahoe is a small town, we were able to get a press release in the Tahoe Tribune. I just sent a press release, and they copied it verbatim for the "article" in the paper. We were also able to get an interview on the local cable news! That was kind of fun. A local comedian, Howie Nave, was also featured on the news show with me, and he had some interest in comics. He was actually a big help stimulating the conversation and making it sound exciting that I did comics. Thanks, Howie.

Setting up the signing, the store owner wanted to split the profits of anything I sold. I told him beforehand, look, this is just going to be all my friends coming. I could just do a barbecue and sell them my books at my house. You letting me do the signing at your store guarantees you a lot of foot traffic that you wouldn't get otherwise. It's a mutually beneficial deal if you let me have the signing at your store, even if you let me take all my sales. I felt like it was a tense situation, but he finally agreed, after pointing out he had done flyers out of his own pocket.

The signing was nice. All my friends and parents' friends came out and bought books and t-shirts. We kept the place pretty busy the whole time we were there. I don't think more than two or three people came in who were strangers. One guy said he'd buy the books for his kids, because they like comics. A young girl kind of stood around, a small distance back, and watched me for awhile. Maybe sixth or seventh grader. She would come up and flip through the book a little, then back up again. My wife, Elizabeth, saw her there, and asked if she wanted to come up and say hi. She asked if she could take my picture, and then she was gone. Another maybe late high school girl was flipping through the book, and she said she liked that the stories were black and white, but didn't buy one.

Once again, thank goodness for friends and family, which got me a pocketful of cash. I'm feeling grateful for them, but on the other hand, frustrated that no one else is coming out for my signings.

Sacramento Comic Book, Toy & Anime Show, Sacramento, CA, September 5, 2004

My second issue came out, and my sales dropped nearly in half. This issue sold 315 initial sales through Diamond, my distributor. So after getting some nice interviews and reviews, and setting up signings and local news coverage, and having a friend who popped into comics shops around the country to get owners aware of my book, I had managed to lose buyers, rather than gaining new ones. A real disappointment, but I still had hope that maybe I could continue to generate more interest. I still had some plans to do more conventions, and hoped reviews and interviews would keep coming and stimulate potential readers.

For some reason I thought the Sac Con would be a good idea. I thought, after my comic shop signings, that a little more local exposure would be nice. I thought the timing would be good, because my second issue would be out, so anyone who'd picked up the first issue would have an opportunity to buy the second. And anyone who hadn't bought either yet, I thought this would be my chance to get my books in the hands of locals who were actually comics collectors, and not just friends and relatives.

Sam Kieth had told me he'd been invited to this con, but Arthur Adams told him not to bother. Sam and Arthur both go to cons like Wondercon or San Diego and are kept busy for hours with the lines of fans who want to meet them. But when Arthur signed at Sac Con, he said the place was dead, and he had nothing to do. So Sam never did any appearances.

Why I thought it would be different for me, if superstars in the industry couldn't get any attention, is beyond me.

I'd seen artists sitting behind tables at Sac Con before. Mostly indie self-publishers like myself. They'd be sitting around, and selling sketches, or whatever. I figured, I might as well put in my time and give it a try.

I sat next to and met Daniel Cooney, an indie artist who does a book called Valentine. Really fun, friendly, talkative guy.

I had a friend visiting from the Bay Area, and after he'd had a chance to go poke around and buy some books, he hung out with me. That was nice to be able to spend some time with him.

Pretty much no one else came around. I had my first two issues, which I gave to the convention runner. A comics dealer I buy a lot of comics from happened to see me, and kindly bought both issues. Someone who'd seen me at one of my other local signings enjoyed the first issue, and bought a second. One of Dan Cooney's friends bought a couple of my books. And that was basically all my sales.

It made me think, I probably won't do this convention again. I'd rather be rummaging through back issue bins if I'm here. That would be more productive.

Big Planet Comics, Washington, DC, October 30th, 2004

Now I had two issues out, and my first issue of Ojo had been released. We had friends who had just moved to the Washington DC area, and we wanted to visit them and see DC, since Elizabeth had never been there, and I hadn't been since I was little. Elizabeth also found the Marine Corps Marathon, which she had heard would be a really fun marathon, going by all the national monuments.

Elizabeth has always wanted to travel and see the world, and so I looked at my upcoming comics career as a chance to try and get my books seen, while at the same time giving us a tax-write-off of a trip, so that Elizabeth could go places. Most of the cons we chose, therefore, had a lot to do with places we wanted to see.

I looked online and found Big Planet Comics, which looked like a good comics shop, that would support indie books. I called the owner, and he said I was welcome to come out and do a signing there.

I made some fliers for him to hand out to anyone who bought anything. I billed myself as "Ojo co-artist," and listed all the pin-ups I was collecting in my book, to try and make it sound like, even if I was a nobody, I at least have connections with big-wigs.

When I got to the store, it looked like the owner still had all the flyers. I think he'd just left them on the counter for anyone to take, and no one had taken them.

We had scheduled the signing for a couple hours, and no one came in looking for me. One guy just happened to be in there, and he looked at my books and bought a couple, maybe out of pity. Another guy came in and talked with me for a bit. But the rest of the time, I just visited with the owner.

So the signing kind of seemed like a waste of time, but on the other hand, it allowed for the plane tickets to be tax-write-offs. But from a business perspective, it wasn't a smart move. Selling two books doesn't cover the cost of a plane ride. I very definitely realized for this signing that no one is interested in coming in and checking out a comics signing for an unknown artist. I already should have known, since no strangers had come to my local signings. But this solidified it.
See how you live, you learn? I haven't done any signings at stores ever since, unless a local shop asks me to. It's conventions only for me. At the cons, I can usually sell thirty or so books and make a hundred twenty dollars to pay toward my couple hundred bucks for a flight, couple hundred bucks for a hotel, and couple hundred bucks for the cost of the table. See how much better that is?

49. OUT-OF-TOWN SIGNINGS

Now I'd done a few local signings, and experienced San Diego behind a table. My book was out there in America, across the nation. I knew I had to try and keep getting my book out there, and try and somehow build more interest.
Neighbors Bookstore, South Lake Tahoe, CA, August 7, 2004

I thought I had done quite well for my local comics signings. Considering I only had one comic and some t-shirts to sell, I was making a fair chunk of change. But on the other hand, I realized, if I had another signing, I'd better find a bigger fan base, because otherwise all the same people would show up (or not show up), and they'd already spent more than they should have to try and support me, and I wouldn't have anything new to sell them.

The final "first issue" signing I was excited to get set up was in my home town of South Lake Tahoe, where my parents still lived. I still had some friends up there, and my parents still had a lot of friends up there, and I wanted to see them all and show them what I was doing. I wanted a place I could do a signing, and then I wanted to have everyone over for a barbecue afterwards.

The bookstore, Neighbors, was pretty much brand new, and by far the nicest bookstore in Tahoe. It was well-lit, spacious, and easy to find. My parents said they thought having an actual "signing" would be better than just a barbecue. Because Tahoe is a small town, we were able to get a press release in the Tahoe Tribune. I just sent a press release, and they copied it verbatim for the "article" in the paper. We were also able to get an interview on the local cable news! That was kind of fun. A local comedian, Howie Nave, was also featured on the news show with me, and he had some interest in comics. He was actually a big help stimulating the conversation and making it sound exciting that I did comics. Thanks, Howie.

Setting up the signing, the store owner wanted to split the profits of anything I sold. I told him beforehand, look, this is just going to be all my friends coming. I could just do a barbecue and sell them my books at my house. You letting me do the signing at your store guarantees you a lot of foot traffic that you wouldn't get otherwise. It's a mutually beneficial deal if you let me have the signing at your store, even if you let me take all my sales. I felt like it was a tense situation, but he finally agreed, after pointing out he had done flyers out of his own pocket.

The signing was nice. All my friends and parents' friends came out and bought books and t-shirts. We kept the place pretty busy the whole time we were there. I don't think more than two or three people came in who were strangers. One guy said he'd buy the books for his kids, because they like comics. A young girl kind of stood around, a small distance back, and watched me for awhile. Maybe sixth or seventh grader. She would come up and flip through the book a little, then back up again. My wife, Elizabeth, saw her there, and asked if she wanted to come up and say hi. She asked if she could take my picture, and then she was gone. Another maybe late high school girl was flipping through the book, and she said she liked that the stories were black and white, but didn't buy one.

Once again, thank goodness for friends and family, which got me a pocketful of cash. I'm feeling grateful for them, but on the other hand, frustrated that no one else is coming out for my signings.
Sacramento Comic Book, Toy & Anime Show, Sacramento, CA, September 5, 2004

My second issue came out, and my sales dropped nearly in half. This issue sold 315 initial sales through Diamond, my distributor. So after getting some nice interviews and reviews, and setting up signings and local news coverage, and having a friend who popped into comics shops around the country to get owners aware of my book, I had managed to lose buyers, rather than gaining new ones. A real disappointment, but I still had hope that maybe I could continue to generate more interest. I still had some plans to do more conventions, and hoped reviews and interviews would keep coming and stimulate potential readers.

For some reason I thought the Sac Con would be a good idea. I thought, after my comic shop signings, that a little more local exposure would be nice. I thought the timing would be good, because my second issue would be out, so anyone who'd picked up the first issue would have an opportunity to buy the second. And anyone who hadn't bought either yet, I thought this would be my chance to get my books in the hands of locals who were actually comics collectors, and not just friends and relatives.

Sam Kieth had told me he'd been invited to this con, but Arthur Adams told him not to bother. Sam and Arthur both go to cons like Wondercon or San Diego and are kept busy for hours with the lines of fans who want to meet them. But when Arthur signed at Sac Con, he said the place was dead, and he had nothing to do. So Sam never did any appearances.

Why I thought it would be different for me, if superstars in the industry couldn't get any attention, is beyond me.

I'd seen artists sitting behind tables at Sac Con before. Mostly indie self-publishers like myself. They'd be sitting around, and selling sketches, or whatever. I figured, I might as well put in my time and give it a try.

I sat next to and met Daniel Cooney, an indie artist who does a book called Valentine. Really fun, friendly, talkative guy.

I had a friend visiting from the Bay Area, and after he'd had a chance to go poke around and buy some books, he hung out with me. That was nice to be able to spend some time with him.

Pretty much no one else came around. I had my first two issues, which I gave to the convention runner. A comics dealer I buy a lot of comics from happened to see me, and kindly bought both issues. Someone who'd seen me at one of my other local signings enjoyed the first issue, and bought a second. One of Dan Cooney's friends bought a couple of my books. And that was basically all my sales.

It made me think, I probably won't do this convention again. I'd rather be rummaging through back issue bins if I'm here. That would be more productive.
Big Planet Comics, Washington, DC, October 30th, 2004

Now I had two issues out, and my first issue of Ojo had been released. We had friends who had just moved to the Washington DC area, and we wanted to visit them and see DC, since Elizabeth had never been there, and I hadn't been since I was little. Elizabeth also found the Marine Corps Marathon, which she had heard would be a really fun marathon, going by all the national monuments.

Elizabeth has always wanted to travel and see the world, and so I looked at my upcoming comics career as a chance to try and get my books seen, while at the same time giving us a tax-write-off of a trip, so that Elizabeth could go places. Most of the cons we chose, therefore, had a lot to do with places we wanted to see.

I looked online and found Big Planet Comics, which looked like a good comics shop, that would support indie books. I called the owner, and he said I was welcome to come out and do a signing there.

I made some fliers for him to hand out to anyone who bought anything. I billed myself as "Ojo co-artist," and listed all the pin-ups I was collecting in my book, to try and make it sound like, even if I was a nobody, I at least have connections with big-wigs.

When I got to the store, it looked like the owner still had all the flyers. I think he'd just left them on the counter for anyone to take, and no one had taken them.

We had scheduled the signing for a couple hours, and no one came in looking for me. One guy just happened to be in there, and he looked at my books and bought a couple, maybe out of pity. Another guy came in and talked with me for a bit. But the rest of the time, I just visited with the owner.

So the signing kind of seemed like a waste of time, but on the other hand, it allowed for the plane tickets to be tax-write-offs. But from a business perspective, it wasn't a smart move. Selling two books doesn't cover the cost of a plane ride. I very definitely realized for this signing that no one is interested in coming in and checking out a comics signing for an unknown artist. I already should have known, since no strangers had come to my local signings. But this solidified it.
See how you live, you learn? I haven't done any signings at stores ever since, unless a local shop asks me to. It's conventions only for me. At the cons, I can usually sell thirty or so books and make a hundred twenty dollars to pay toward my couple hundred bucks for a flight, couple hundred bucks for a hotel, and couple hundred bucks for the cost of the table. See how much better that is?

48. KIND OF A FUNNY MONSTER PIN-UP

I've bought a lot of comics, too many to read. It's impractical how many comics I own. I would have to read like three comics a day for ten years to finish reading all my comics, so when I get back from a comics shop, I try to at least flip through everything. So wasteful. People say, "What the hell do you buy all those comics for, if you don't ever read them?" I try to be patient to them, because obviously they can never understand. I explain, "It's not about reading. It's about having."

I haven't read too much of Steve Rude's work, even though I own a fair amount of it. For that matter, maybe I haven't read too much of anybody. I like flipping through comics though. When I do read them, I don't necessarily especially enjoy them. But I think, psychologically, reading them gives me comfort, and gives me a hint of remembering what it was like to read them as a kid. A hint of the memory of that excitement when I was younger, and that fun, and that magic. I joke that for me, reading comics is like an old, withered man who watches porn every day, and he's seen so much of it that he can't even get off on it anymore, but it's the only life he knows, so he continues popping those tapes in and staring at the tv screen, without enthusiasm. Every now and then, more and more rarely, I'll stumble onto something that I think is fantastic. But for the most part, I'm just going through the motions when I read a comic.

Of what I have read of Steve Rude's, I absolutely loved a couple projects he did. First was a Spider-Man limited series, which I bought from him at San Diego 2001. Later, I read his Superman Hulk team-up, which I may have enjoyed even more. Whenever I flip through his work, I'm always taken by his layouts. They're so simple and clean, and tell so much. He has a slightly retro feel with his line work which I enjoy.

I had met Steve at San Diego, and thought he was really sweet and friendly. He spent a lot of time looking at my artwork, and giving me suggestions, and even taking time to draw a few layout sketches of how he might do certain panels differently. I thought he was so kind to do all that.

I had visited his website regularly, bought some books from his website, and even some original art. Through the website, I was always communicated with through his wife, Jaynelle. And that didn't bother me, although I would have loved a note from "The Dude" himself. But I understood he was busy making art. I thought it was smart to be able to have someone who could help out like that.

Finally I got up the gumption to ask about a possible pin-up for my comic. Jaynelle wrote back, telling me how much it would be, and it was more than I hoped to spend, so I thanked her for the info and told her as much.

But I always thought Steve would be able to do a great giant monster pin-up. I've always felt he's a great Kirby-style artist. He's done a number of works, especially pin-ups or convention sketches, that just absolutely nail the Kirby zing, in my opinion. I finally decided I would be willing to just bite the bullet and pay what they had asked.

Checking in occasionally at his website, I saw Steve was keeping busy for a stretch and wasn't taking commissions. But after a few months, they announced time for pin-ups again, so I got back to them. I reminded them who I was and what I wanted, and agreed to their price for a monster pin-up. They were real sweet about it. They said there were a few pin-ups ahead of me, and then Steve would start mine.

This was right before San Diego 2004, and at first there was talk he might have it done by the convention, and be able to bring it and save me shipping. But it turned out he hadn't even started it yet. I popped by his booth and introduced myself, and showed him some of the other pin-ups I'd gotten. I had just released my first issue, so he flipped through it, and asked if he could have a copy, just to give him an idea of the feel of the book. He hoped that would spark some ideas for his pin-up.

A little later, I actually got a phone call from him. It was really exciting to get a phone call from Steve Rude. He said he was ready to do my pin-up, and just wanted to make sure he understood the concept. We spoke for a while. I let him know I just wanted a giant monster, in any style he'd like, in any setting.

Having flipped through my book now, he told me he really admired that I was self-publishing. He knew it takes a lot of risk and spunk. I think he could relate to my position, and was feeling in a similar situation. He told me he'd found this character he really enjoyed, the Moth, and he felt he could continue telling the Moth's stories for years, but he was having trouble getting a company to back the project. What I would learn over the months and years is that he shopped it to a number of publishers, and finally got Darkhorse to pick up the Moth for a giant-sized issue, followed by a four-issue limited series. But after that, Darkhorse decided The Moth wasn't making high enough sales figures for them, and they dropped the title. I believe Steve continued to shop it around a little more, without any luck (at least not to his satisfaction), and in the winter of 2005, finally made the announcement he would make his own attempts to self-publish the title, alongside his first big project and love, Nexus. I'll write more about that in future entries.

Maybe a few weeks or months after that enjoyable phone call, he called again. He said he had been looking at my book, and how it had a very creepy, dark feel to it. He said he researched a bunch of the old Kirby monster books, and thought, those monster stories were kind of stupid stories anyways. But Kirby had done some other horror stories at about this same time. Real creepy, almost Gothic-type horror stories. So Steve started getting into this idea, and really went with it. He said he even came up with a kind of story within the page. So he was calling because he wanted to know if it would be all right if he went with that sort of theme? I told him, "Look, I encourage you todo anything you want, and get creative, just so there's a giant monster. Giant monsters is the theme, but take that any direction you feel like." And he said, "Well, it doesn't really have a giant monster in it. And it's done." And I'm thinking, "The only thing I asked for with this pin-up was that it have the theme of giant monsters, and you're telling me you didn't put a giant monster in it?" But of course I didn't say this.

He was real sweet about it. He said I could take a look at it, and if it didn't work, I could send it back or he'd redraw it or something like that. But of course I didn't want to do that. Sure enough, it came in the mail, and that pin-up has personality. It's a total retro-horror piece. And he's got a whole story told in that picture. A whole strange magical world, almost reminds me of Steven King's Carrie, where innocent objects are coming alive all around us, without actually being alive. And if you look around there are definitely monsters throughout the image. The longer you look, the more of them you see. You could even argue that some of them are giant monsters. The pin-up demands a little more engagement on the part of the viewer. It's a sort of odd-man-out compared to the other pin-ups. But I don't think that's a bad thing. I was just so flabbergasted that I had asked him for a pin-up of a giant monster, and he didn't bother to put a giant monster in it.

47. OTHER SAN DIEGO CON 2004 TIDBITS

MY SALESMAN'S APPROACH AT SAN DIEGO CON 2004


It's a strange thing, sitting behind a table, trying to sell yourself, in the form of your comic. In the case of San Diego, I knew I couldn't hope to make back my table costs, because the table cost us six hundred bucks here. Jesus! and I only had one piddly four dollar book to try and make my money back. And then there was the hotel on top of that.

We could have gotten a less expensive, smaller table, in the "Small press" area. But we decided, If we ACT like we're not small time, people will have to TREAT us like we're not small time. Well, it was a pompous, impressive-sounding theory, anyways.
So what do you do, sitting at an expensive table, knowing you probably will just lose a ton of money? On the one hand, you don't want to bother people, or harass them. On the other hand, it's really expensive to be there, and it sure would be nice if someone would buy your book. You keep hoping, you know, since you worked really hard, and your story means a lot to you. You think, we'll maybe I could sell enough to make the table back. If people would just take the time, they would realize how good your book is, and want to buy it, and then they'd tell all their friends how good it is, and then they'd all go to your website and buy it, and next thing you know you'll be so popular. But it just doesn't work that way.

First of all (and this is negative, but look at the sales numbers), most people just aren't interested in buying a black-and-white book. Hell, I'm not. I want to see my comics in color. Second, the reason indie books aren't as popular is that, honestly, by and large, they just really aren't usually as good. Or at the least, they don't appeal to a large enough market. They're done by people like me who couldn't get a publisher to publish them! Many of us are still learning, like me, how to become better artists. As we do more work and get better, companies will eventually (we hope) see our improvement and dedication, and hire us. So why waste your time going through the indie alley, when eventually, the cream will rise to the top. Lastly, even if people are interested in indie books, there's such a wide range of subject matter. Just because I think my stories are good, that doesn't mean everyone has to be interested in the same topics I'm interested in. So if people walk by and aren't interested, there can be a lot of reasons. They might not even be interested in comics at all. They might just be at the con to buy toys, but they happened to be passing by to get to the bathroom. So you spend a lot of time watching completely uninterested people walk by. You spend a lot of time watching people trying not to make eye contact with you. Some of them glance down at something on your table, at something that caught their eye, but they realize they've put themselves in jeopardy, and quickly look away and move on. You spend a lot of time smiling at anyone who makes eye contact, and wondering if they will come over and look at your stuff. And some of them do, and you try and make your pitch, and after that some of them thank you and walk off, some of them just walk off without saying anything, some of them actually buy your book out of pressure or guilt, and if you're lucky, a few of them really were interested and actually read it when they got home. And if you're really lucky, they enjoyed it, and want to buy the next issue, and will actually tell their store, or look for you at the next con. But you'll never know. You'll never know if someone finds your book and reads it. You never know if they enjoyed it. You never know if they tell someone else.

It took me awhile at this con to get into salesman mode. To find a technique to be a salesman that I didn't despise myself, but that generated some interest in my book. What seemed to work best was to let people approach on their own, or try and say something nice to people who walked by. But only if they looked like "the kind of people" who would enjoy my book. Oh, I really like your shirt. I love that band or movie. Isn't that a great hat. Something sincere -- I don't just tell every moron who goes by how much I love their stupid shirt. I pick out people with a Martin Scorcese film on their shirt or something, where I can get talking with them about it. I'll ask them if they read many comics, and try to find out what books they enjoy. Usually, if they're into comics, I have a pin-up of at least one artist they like. I try to immediately name-drop all the pin-ups in my book, and use that as an excuse to show them all the other pin-ups. It's shameless, I know, but I'm a nobody, and any little bit of incentive I can get for them to buy my shit is priceless, for someone like me, who isn't a good salesman. And besides, I spent a shitload of money on all those pin-ups. I paid for the right to do shameless name-dropping.

The cover price on my book is $3.95. One kid reached into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of pennies, nickels and dimes, and actually paid me $3.95 in goddamn change. I should have said, "Look, I'm not charging tax, but I am charging $4.00, not $3.95." Or maybe it would have been better to thank him and scoop up all his change, and then thrown it at his stupid face, as hard as I could. For the record, though, I'm selling my books for $4.00 from now on. No more five cent discounts.

My "business manager," Wayne Jones was kind enough to come down to the con for a couple days. He was amazing, and at times embarrassing, to watch in action. He would unabashedly harass anyone who walked by. "Giant monsters over here! Hey, you! Yeah, you! Would you come over here for a moment? You look like you would enjoy giant monsters! Pardon, me, do you have a moment? Come take a look at this book! It's got people dressed as robots! Robots dressed as people! Giant monsters!" He was like a circus doorman. He should have had a straw hat, red-and-white striped suit, cane to wave, and megaphone. Step right up! Step right up!

He sold as many books in a couple hours as I sold in a couple days. It was amazing! But I kind of thought to myself, as effective as he was, I didn't personally want to make sales that way. I didn't want to intimidate people into buying my book. I'll be doomed to make less sales, but I can't be that way, and I don't want to be.

NEIGHBORS IN THE INDIE ALLEY AT SAN DIEGO 2004

We sat across from the really fun, cool Caveman Robot gang. What a great comics idea. A robot who is also a caveman.

We also sat across from these guys who had a fantasy sci-fi comic, and a laptop blaring a movie-like exciting theme song, showing flashes of exciting animated clips of elves with swords and flying spaceships. Within a couple hours, we were ready to walk over, grab the laptop, throw it on the ground as hard as we could, and smash it with a baseball bat.

We had one neighbor who was a nice enough guy, but he seemed to get kind of impatient with some of the people walking by. I caught him snapping at people, if they asked stupid questions, like if the books were free. At one point I must have made a face, like, Wow, you're pretty goddamn rude. He kind of justified himself, "That kid isn't my marketing demographic; he would never buy a book anyways." Just the same, it made me realize, in this stressful, crazy, ultra-stimulated bizarre environment, you've got to watch yourself and keep a calm head.

On the second or third day, these young kids came in and took the table next to us. They didn't have a comic, but they had a flier for a comic that they said would be coming out next year. One young kid was "in charge," and he just kind of strutted around with his sunglasses and GQ hairstyle and collar shirt buttoned down low, and girls were stopping by periodically to fawn over him. He had a stable of maybe three or four artists, who just sat at the table and made sketches of their characters, and people would go by and watch these artists as if they were superstars, and ask them questions, and the hot-cool manager would talk about the book that was coming out and hand out fliers. And I just thought to myself, you've spent six hundred dollars just to be sitting here and not making any money. You don't even have a product. And all these flyers you hand out are going in the garbage, if they don't just get dropped on the floor around the corner. A year from now, no one will remember they saw you, let alone remember to look for and order your book.

At one point, one of the artists who had been gone for awhile appeared, elated. He had just spoken with Jim Lee and Darkhorse, and both had told him he was good, and they both gave him their contact info. To him, this meant he had a job. He was in. He was ready to shoot for the stars now. He was a superhero. And I thought to myself, that is great that he's gotten this much encouragement, but we'll see how this plays out. JH Williams III had promises of getting work at DC, and it still took him three months of working his ass off and not taking no for an answer. A lot of people get contact info, and it never ends up going anywhere. I've gotten contact info. People have told me my work is good. And it kind of feels like I've gotten nowhere, and I've wound up self-publishing as a result. I hate to be negative, but I haven't seen much to be positive about yet. And maybe I'm wrong. Maybe this kid will become the next superstar. It happens sometimes. But if he isn't, this poor guy is building himself up to be crushed emotionally by a slow and eventual rejection, the same way I built myself up when I was first starting out.

Immediately, the manager began cockily telling passers-by, "Yeah, this artist of mine just found out he's going to be working with Jim Lee. Or maybe Darkhorse. He hasn't decided yet which one he'd rather do. Well it was great that I was able to get some work from him for our first book." It irritated and saddened me. The manager told me what a great convention he'd had, and I was thinking how it seemed to me they hadn't accomplished anything.

* * *

I had my first video interview, by Espen Jorgensen, who knew Sam Kieth, and was doing a documentary on comics. He said he's interviewed Sam and Alex Pardee, and wanted to include everyone involved with the "Ojo" book. I of course shamelessly tried to talk as much as I could about my own budding comics career, as if anyone were interested.

GETTING OUR CAR TOWED AT OUR VERY HOTEL PARKING LOT


As the con went on, I had a little money from the couple of book sales we'd made, and I'd brought a little money as well. So I decided I'd buy a page of original artwork from Mike Mignola. But fate never allows events to go as you plan them...

Our last morning at the con, we packed up our in our hotel, checked out, and took our suitcases out to our car, and our car was nowhere to be seen. We saw someone working at the lot, and asked, and he said we'd most likely been towed, for not having a parking permit.

We went back to the hotel and had them call the tow truck, and sure enough, our car was there. The hotel paid for a cab to take us to pick our car up, and the towing fee was over $300. Mike Mignola's sketches were going for $500-$600, and the towing wiped out enough of my cash that I would go home without an original Mike Mignola piece.

The hotel wouldn't take responsibility for our car getting towed in the lot they told us to park in. Assholes. What the hell.

We hadn't sold anything, we had spent a fortune, between table cost and hotel. Only maybe thirty people bought my book, and who knows if any of them would enjoy it or not. But overall, I still felt pretty confident, and had a lot of fun. I was getting to know more artists, and they were treating me more like a professional. The next con, maybe I'd sell even more books. Maybe we'd get a better location (that must have been the problem), and that would help us. So maybe the reason our cocky neighbors hit such an irritable and saddening nerve with me was that I had nothing to show for it except a positive attitude, but thought I'd had a great con, the same way they did.

46. PLAYING POOL AT SAN DIEGO 2004

A friend of mine had driven down to the big con with us this year and was helping watch the booth. He was invited to go play pool with a friend of his who was also down at the con, and we went along. His friend is Haden Blackman, who is very high up on the ladder making Star Wars games for LucasArts, but he also wrote "The Field Guide to North American Monsters" and a number of (especially Star Wars) comics. He's friends with JH Williams III, and sure enough, when we went to the bar, in walks JH Williams, who asked me to call him Jim.

We had the chance to speak a little. He was so friendly, and I was nervous and didn't want him to think I was some punk fanboy who wouldn't go away. But Jim just seemed to be enjoying visiting and hanging out. His career is really moving up, in my opinion. He told me he had projects in the works with Grant Morrison, and Warren Ellis, and Neil Gaiman. Jesus Christ! And after working with the King of Kings, Alan Moore! After this batch, there's no one else to work for! He'll have collaborated with all the greats, it seems like! Amazing!

He by now knew who I was, since I had asked him about doing a pin-up, and we had set it all up. He told me he had actually ordered and picked up my first issue at his comics shop. I was really flattered. We spoke a little about the difficulty of getting into the industry. He shared his story of indebtedness to Howard Chaykin, who looked at his portfolio at a con. Jim said a lot of artists at portfolio reviews get defensive or upset, and he just tried to listen and get good advice, and he was discussing his art with Howard Chaykin, who became so convinced Jim was doing all the right things, that Howard stormed around DC's booth demanding that someone give Jim work. But even with that endorsement, and Jim getting contact info from editors, and making regular check-ins, it still took him months before he finally got wok. It's a hell of a tough industry to break into.

Jim and his wife Wendy were so sweet. It was great to be able to spend some time with them.

Of course I've heard the stories about how important it is to go out nights, and hang out in the bars, or try to find the parties everyone is at. I've been told that you never know who you'll wind up meeting and talking with. You'll make some small talk, and find you enjoy someone's company, and next thing you know you realize they're a head editor or know editors, or it's a famous artist. I've heard the story of people who take their portfolios in elevators and meet editors that way, or stalk them and go to their hotels. But I've never really enjoyed or felt comfortable doing the schmoozing party-going thing. So tonight, my wife pointed out that there is a value to being places like pool halls, and meeting people like Jim Williams. It did feel really amazing to just be sitting at a bar, playing pool, and visiting with JH Williams III.

Before the con, Jim had said he would have my pin-up finished, and now he told me it was waiting at his booth, so I went and picked it up from him the next day. He was sitting with Arthur Adams, and supposedly Walter Simonson would be there, who I really wanted to meet. Every time I stopped by, they would tell me, still no sign of Walter, but he's supposed to be here any minute.

Finally, his wife, Louise, showed up. She had no idea where Walter was, and had been waiting for him too. He was supposed to have been there long ago. He was AWOL. But that was his MO at conventions. Losing track of time, bumping into people.

He was fun to meet. He was doing a nice sketch of X-Men's Storm when I finally found him. He signed a couple books I brought and was friendly and funny. As for a pin-up, he said his schedule was very busy. He had way too much on his plate. He didn't bother to give me contact info, and I didn't ask.

45. SOME ARTISTS I SPOKE WITH AT SAN DIEGO 2004

45. SOME ARTISTS I SPOKE WITH AT SAN DIEGO 2004


I suspected it would be like last year, and Mike Mignola would be somewhere accessible, and I just had to figure out where. Sure enough, I was able to hunt down his table. I waited in a moderate line, then quickly showed him the copies of all my Ayers-inked monster stories, and all the pin-ups. As I did, I could tell he was impressed with my roll call. Mike Allred, Thomas Yeates, Gene Colan, Bill Sienkiewicz, Sam Kieth, Irwin Hasen, all three Hernandez Brothers (but I hadn't seen Jaime's yet), Ryan Sook (who I'd asked to please butter me up when he spoke with Mike), Steve Rude and Russ Heath (whose pin-ups I hadn't yet received), JH Williams III, whose pin-up I would be getting at this con. Suddenly he said, "How can I be a part of this?"

Wow. I almost fell over. I was speechless. I couldn't believe it. One of my favorite artists, who I'd always assumed would be fairly untouchable, asking me what HE can do to be a part of my monster comics. Every year, my work must be looking better and better, and people are getting more and more impressed, and more willing to contribute pin-ups. The year before, he had glanced over a lot of the same work I was showing him now, but he didn't seem so interested.

He gave me his business card, and I continued to bluster about my comic, and tell him about Dr. DeBunko. Then I gave him a copy of the first issue of Tabloia, and asked to buy one of his sketchbooks (and he even drew a quick Hellboy sketch in it). I babbled I'd taken up too much of his time, and he said he agreed that I had, and I realized I'd better make my exit. Later I went back and gave him a monster t-shirt.


* * *


Early on I went and gave a copy of Tabloia to Gene Colan. He and his wife were very sweet, and I made a point to be very sweet as well. I was naturally nervous after our email experiences. But they were friendly, and showed appreciation for me bringing them the books. They said the graveyard pin-up had been very popular. Later I went to see him again to get a book signed, and Bruce Timm was there, looking through and picking out some of Gene's original art. I fumbled in my bag and got my copies of all the monster stories and pin-ups. I awkwardly got Bruce's attention and showed him some of the work, and he seemed mildly interested, but mostly I felt like I was just bothering him, while he was trying to look through Gene's art. I left the scene in shame. Humiliation. I don't know why he intimidates me so much.

* * *

At this convention, I asked Thomas Yeates and Gene Colan if they would like some extra copies of my comic to sell at their booths. Gene took some extra copies, but Thomas said he didn't have much table space as it was. It would take me a year or so to realize I had to stop asking artists if they would like to do this. They have their own stuff to sell without wasting extra time and space. Their fans will certainly buy more of the artist's actual books or original art than of some unknown artist's unknown book. And not only that, but it puts the artists in an awkward situation, because they're not interested in selling my book, for Christ's sake, and why should they be? That's my responsibility to sell my own books.

* * *

Dave Stevens had a big booth. I showed him my monster stuff again, and he said it sounded familiar. He didn't seem as interested to flip through them this time, maybe since it's all the same stuff I've kept showing him. I ended up giving him a copy of Tabloia, which he accepted and put away, and which I had the feeling he would never look at again. I began to realize maybe I shouldn't offer to give people books unless they ask for them.

* * *

I went and found Adam Hughes in artists alley. People were just starting to line up, but he wasn't there. His girlfriend, Allison, was getting set up though. She was getting all the prints and sketchbooks out. Adam arrived, and he and she were cranking everyone quickly through the line. I got a sketchbook and tried to show him my comic, but he wasn't looking. He looked really sweaty and tense and frazzled, and just kind of said, "No, I'm so busy." And he looked genuinely too busy. He signed my sketchbook though. I would get to know Adam much better in a couple years, and I think he's the greatest!

* * *

I was looking for Tim Bradstreet, who was supposed to be in artists alley. I knew the art dealer who represents him was at the con, so I went there on a hunch, and just happened to see him pop over there. I reintroduced myself. He had to get somewhere, but told me to walk him there, so I had the opportunity to show him all the cool pin-ups I'd gotten, and he seemed impressed. He was so sweet and affectionate. He put his hand on my shoulder and treated me like an old friend, and he said, "We'll get you a pin-up." And he told me to keep emailing him.

* * *

I saw Matt Wagner again, and gave him a copy of Tabloia #1. He was encouraging and friendly. He said he's too busy to do pin-ups right now, because he's working on a Batman project that will last a dozen issues.

* * *

Went and said hello to Michael Kaluta and gave him a business card. He seemed to enjoy that I had a dismembered hand on my card. He said he'd remember the image. I wound up giving him a comic too. He said he's just so busy, but that he would eventually get around to doing a monster pin-up. He admitted that the Kirby stories were never really his thing, and he never understood why they always had to wear these giant-sized diapers. I immensely enjoyed talking with him. He really knew how to put a nervous fan at ease, and he had a great sense of humor.

* * *

All this talk of artists I went and met, you may find it hard to believe we had a table this year. My dear, sweet, great wife was enjoying having a place to sit down during the con, and was happy to watch the table and try selling our book while I popped around looking for potential new pin-up artists.

When I was at our table, for some reason, a fair amount of big name people walked by all during the con, because we were right by a bathroom.

Peter Kuper walked by and I recognized him. I started to show him my stuff and ask him about a pin-up, but then someone else came to the table, and he wandered off. I kept my eye on him, and realized he was visiting with Bill Plympton. Even though there was no one to man the booth at this moment, I immediately abandoned my post and ran over to both of them, and showed them my book, and managed to get contact info from both of them. Peter actually contacted me himself, and I was able to get a pin-up from him.

I harassed Chris Claremont, who was polite, but acted as if he couldn't wait to get away. Maybe he had a signing or panel. Or maybe he didn't want to be bothered by some annoying unknown pain-in-the-ass.

I pestered Max Allan Collins, who remembered (or pretended he did) that I had shown him my Dick Hammer stories the year before. I bumped into him again later, and told him I knew he was close to Mickey Spillane, and hoped he wasn't offended by my Dick Hammer character. He said, No, no one has the same politics as Mickey, who's so insanely right-wing he's in a class all by himself. Max talked about being on a panel with Jude Law, and how he wasn't sure if people were at the panel to see him or Jude. I asked why they were on a panel together. Stupid Wisnia. Road of Perdition starrinng Jude Law. You've seen it, remember? Moron...I'm kicking myself.


* * *


While things were quiet at the table, I recognized Gary Groth poking around and glancing at different people's tables.

I caught his glance, and I said, "I know you." He came up and said, Do you.

"Yeah, we met at APE Con. I was with Sam Kieth." He remembered. He asked about my book. "Oh, this is just a hodge-podge of junk," I told him. He laughed that I had the Sam Kieth style of self-promoting. He actually looked at it though. I got him to look at the Dick Ayers stuff, and he asked me how I'd gotten pin-ups from Mario and Gilbert. I told him I'd be honored if he'd make any mention of my book in any of his forums, even if he tore it to pieces. He took a copy, and promised he'd read it. I have trouble reading him. I get the feeling he's pestered all the time, and has learned to just be polite. But it worked, because I felt good about my interaction with him.

I realize now that everyone bugs him to tear their work to pieces. Everyone is just itching to hear that Gary Groth hated their work. "Yeah, THE Gary Groth hated it!" I made a mental note to stop asking him for publicity, and to just keep showing him my work, and let him decide for himself if he wants to do anything.

44. PREPARING AND DRIVING DOWN TO SAN DIEGO COMIC-CON 2004

Our first convention! Buying a table space, and showcasing our brand-spanking new issue of Tabloia #572!

We decided to drive down, mostly because we thought it would be easier to take a bunch of stuff with us. It took me hours to pack up, a policy that I haven't been able to shake. The preparation of getting everything packed and ready to travel is such a pain. I'd had a taste of selling at store signings, and I'd done relatively well, thanks to supportive friends and family. I didn't know how Tabloia would sell at the actual cons, and it was my first book, and my first convention, and San Diego is THE BIG convention. Even though the book had only sold moderately well through Diamond (600 copies), I was hopeful that an appearance at a show like this would generate lots of interest and sales. I was convinced that not enough people were aware of my book, but if they only became aware, and had a chance to see it, it would catch on and become popular. So we decided to bring two boxes of it - five hundred fifty issues! - just to be safe. We ended up selling maybe thirty, and another thirty to some stores, and then giving some others away and driving home with probably four hundred sixty or so. Ah, to be unexperienced and hopeful and naive.

I had a friend in L.A. who had popped into Hideho Comics when my first issue hit the stores. He'd enjoyed talking with them about my book, and they sounded very supportive to him, recommending I should come down for a signing some time. So I called to see if they would let me do a signing on our way to San Diego Con. We popped in Wednesday, and the con began that night.

By phone they had asked that I split any money I made selling my books there, and that they be able to take a quarter of any original art I sold. I felt, as a new, hopeful (stupid) but struggling artist, I should get any money I made, and they should be happy with all the potential for increased foot traffic I would generate, as well as for all the additional sales that my foot traffic would stir up at their store. Why I thought an unknown moron selling his one unknown book would make foot traffic and generate sales, I don't know. The store and I bargained, and I acknowledged we're probably only talking about twenty bucks, if I'm lucky. But as soon as I hung up I realized maybe I should have just shut the fuck up and done whatever they said -- because I was a nobody, and what the hell did it matter if they kept a few bucks for their troubles. I ended up only selling one book. And sure a lot of this was because I'm just some unknown hack, but I think the more important result was that they ended up not putting out any fliers or telling anyone I was coming. Valuable lesson. So we sat at Hideho Comics for a couple hours, and basically no one came over or noticed us there. I did enjoy talking with the employees and showing them all the nice pin-ups I had collected for my comic by that time, and they all seemed impressed, and very friendly.

The drive felt like it took forever. It's about a six hour drive, I've heard, but we hit a ton of traffic coming, and a ton of traffic going home, and it took closer to eight. We vowed only to fly to the San Diego Con, from that moment on.

43. SETTING UP MY FIRST SIGNINGS, AND GETTING A NEWSPAPER MENTION

JULY 2004


Before the comic came out, I had done some prep work, to try to generate interest in the upcoming release. I had gone around to all the local shops, and showed them my comic in Diamond Comics' Previews Catalogue. I dropped off 11"x14" promo posters I'd printed, and showed them copies of all the pin-ups I'd gotten for the books so far. Everyone seemed pretty impressed and supportive.

Every year, A-1 Comics in Sacramento had an "alternative press day" where local self-publishers could shop their wares, and they were so supportive of my efforts. They invited me to participate, so naturally I agreed. I knew my home town of Davis was pretty supportive of the arts as well, so I wanted to get set up for a signing in town.

At about that same time, Elizabeth had gone into Sacramento's Empire Comics, and they asked if I could do a signing for Free Comic Book Day, so we agreed to that one too.

Later we learned alternative press day's signing and Free Comic Book Day were on the same day, and voila, I had two signings to do in one day. July 3rd, 2004. My first signing, and only a month after the first issue was slated to hit the shelves.

I went into my hometown's comics shop, Bizarro World in Davis CA, and asked if they would let me do a signing there. Dan, the owner, was very generous and agreed. I decided to set the date for this signing a little later on, July 14th, because I wanted my signings to be a little staggered.

Now that I had three signings scheduled, I contacted the Davis Enterprise and the Sacramento Bee - the local newspapers - to tell them about "local Davis grad publishes comic -- Come to the signing." I naively thought locals might be interested to support a local, even if he was just doing comic books.

On 6/30/04, Christina Taylor from the Enterprise contacted me to do an interview for "an informal piece." She emailed me maybe a dozen questions, and I spent hours and hours, pages and pages on each question, certainly going into way more detail than she or anyone would want. When the article was finally published, it featured another comic besides mine, and had maybe four quotes from my multiple-page responses. I remember feeling the few quotes she used didn't really capture what I had been trying to say. The quotes she used were often my least favorites of all the innumerable, endless things I talked about. Fascinating how that works, even when you're quoted word for word, if it's pulled out of context. This was my first experience of how things you say can change meaning, albeit in a subtle way. I've come to realize I really like doing interviews that I can take my time with and shape, and know the final draft.

I had also contacted the Sacramento Bee and told them about my comic. I mentioned Free Comic Book Day and alternative press day, hoping that would drum up more interest.

One of their writers got in touch with me, but by the time I called back, the small opening they had in the paper had been filled, so they wound up not having anyplace to mention my signing or Free Comic Book Day. Bigger city, harder to get in their news, I guess.

Free Comic Book Day Roseville, A-1 Comics Roseville, CA, July 3rd, 2004

It was my first signing. I went to the shop with a box full of comics (250 books), a box full of t-shirts I'd had printed (maybe a hundred shirts?), and a box full of posters. There were maybe a dozen artists there, shopping their books. We had a bunch of tables set out for us, and at the end were all the free comics which the store would be giving away. I was seated near all the free comics. Because the tables were in a U-shape, there wasn't really anywhere for me to sit, so I pushed my chair out of the way and stood up.

I laid out copies of my book, my two t-shirt designs, and my promo posters. Things started to get underway, and people, mostly kids, started pouring into the store, heading for their free comics and Heroclix. Most of them didn't even look at me. Some looked because they assumed my comics were free, and I had to explain that the free comics were over there.

A mother saw me sitting there, and had her kid come over. She talked about wanting to be supportive of the arts, and had her son buy one of my books. It was really kind. As they left, I wondered if I should have warned her my comic had swearing and talking about getting your clit pierced and things like that. Well, the cover has a dismembered arm, so hopefully she could tell it was an adult-audiences book.

Another woman heard me mention that I had a werewolf story, and she came over to check it out. It turned out she REALLY liked werewolves, and bought, read, watched, or wore anything she could find with a werewolf. REAAALLY liked werewolves. But even so, that wasn't enough for her to have any interest in Dr. DeBunko debunking a town's beliefs in werewolves.

My wife Elizabeth's family was up for the July 4th weekend. I was truly overwhelmed by their support. They all came out, in groups or alone, and bought copies of the books, and lots of t-shirts. Even Elizabeth's dad, an ordained Baptist minister and definite conservative, went so far as to buy a Dr. DeBunko t-shirt. As I say, it truly touched me that they would help me and encourage me so kindly for my first big signing. Other than all of the family purchases, I didn't really sell anything.

Empire Comics, Free Comic Book Day, Sacramento, CA, July 3, 2004

Two signings in one day, so I had to leave A-1 early to make it to Empire. I packed and drove straight over. I sat next to Timothy Green II, and enjoyed his company. Really nice line work. Very Moebius-like. This is the signing most of my friends showed up at, to give their support. Between the two signings, I had a wad of cash in my pocket, and was anxious for my next signing. For some reason it didn't really occur to me that all the money except for a very small portion was from friends and family.

Bizarro World Signing, July 14th, 2004

We did the Davis signing. What shocked me was how few locals showed up, other than my local friends, who were kind enough to buy books or t-shirts. A few kids who pop into the comic shop every week kindly bought copies. Other than that, I was just now beginning to realize, Thank God for friends and family, or I would just be sitting here alone with nothing to do. And I certainly wouldn't have made any money. However, this early in the game, my interpretation was, "I guess Davis is too small a town, and not as supportive as I would have liked. But signings at the right stores, or at conventions, should be much better." So this signing was primarily a nice chance to visit with friends. However, with hindsight I now see, this was my first taste of what I would later learn to expect of comic shop signings.

42. FIRST INTERVIEW, FIRST REVIEW

First Interview

My book hadn't even come out yet, but it was listed in Diamond Distributors' Previews Catalogue. I would get my order numbers in a month, and have a month to print the books and get them into stores.

Out of the blue, Richard Vasseur from Jazmaonline.com wrote to the Tabloia website 5/24/04. It was a very polite and succinct letter, asking if I would be interested in an interview. He signed it Jazma VP.

This being my first request for an interview, I of course checked out the Jazma website. I didn't recognize any of the featured comics professionals interviewed, but that was only because I don't know my indie comics artists (for shame)! The site looked legit, and my friend Wayne, helping me with the "business" side of Salt Peter Press, agreed that a little free press couldn't hurt. And I was star-struck, thinking to myself, I haven't even put out a book, and someone's already asking for an interview! They must have seen my ad, and really liked the look of my comic! What a great sign! Things will just keep building up, and my popularity will soar! It's just a matter of time!

I read a few of the interviews posted at the site, and noticed something that I found pretty interesting. In most of the interviews, the interviewer would ask the question, Have you ever had any supernatural experiences?

Richard did not ask me this question, but Jazma President, Paul Dale Roberts, did in a follow-up interview. It was an interesting question to answer, me being someone who created a character, Dr. DeBunko: Debunker of the Supernatural, and a card-carrying member of the Skeptics Society of America. I later learned, from reading an interview of Paul at the site, that he had some really interesting experiences in the military, that led him to believe in UFOs. What I found really endearing about the same interview was his love of independent comics, and the fact that he founded his website to promote indie artists. I think that's so great. What an honorable mission statement!

Richard emailed me a dozen generic questions that you could ask anyone without knowing anything about their work, such as influences, comics I read, my personal background. Because of my ad, he was able to ask about some of the characters, and the title. Things like that. And all this, of course, is really quite smart, because it's the only way to conduct an interview if my book wasn't even in stores yet, and no one has had a chance to see it.

This was my first interview, and I was a fresh babe of the comics scene, so I answered every question as if I may never be given another interview again. I exploited myself in any shameless ways I could conceive. He'd ask a simple question, and I'd expound on all my life philosophies, how it applied to my comic, and then mention all my upcoming projects and desires. If I wanted to talk about something that wasn't covered in Richard's generic questions, I shamelessly made up my own questions, inserted them amongst his questions, and answered them as if they were his interview questions. And without remorse.

I was also kind of a prick, because when the interview posted, I remember emailing Richard and telling him about some idiotically minor typos I had found. He was very polite and fixed them, even though he probably should have told me, "Screw you, you domineering, controlling prick! You're nobody! NOBODY!" I did this for one other review before I finally settled down and left reviewers alone, even if they spelled my name wrong or whatever.
I'M A PRO NOW!

The book came out! I called my local comics shop to make sure it had actually arrived, and it was there! My comic book was in shops! I could go to a shop, and I would see it there, on the rack, alongside Spider-Man and Batman and the X-Men! Or at least, on a rack, tucked away in the back of the store, where all the indie comics were, far away from Spider-Man and Batman and the X-Men. I couldn't wait to see it! It's quite a thrill to realize your work is out for all to see. I'm a pro now!

Before I got to a comics shop, my two-thousand, three hundred extra copies came in the mail. Boxes and boxes of them. The UPS driver kept going back to his truck and bringing back more boxes. There's nothing like opening up that first box and seeing your first book. I sat down on the couch with it and read it cover to cover, and fretted about all the things I messed up or forgot to do or wished I'd done better. I was so proud of my book.

I was just itching to see how the reactions to my comic would be. I imagined a swarm of reviewers seeing it at shops and picking it up out of interest, and positive reviews being posted in magazines and online, and many more excited fans reading all these great reviews and rushing to their comics shops to try and find a copy of this comic that sounded so great. I imagined more emails from interviewers, writing to inquire about giving me more interviews.

Of course, using a little common sense, the sales numbers were low enough, that obviously a lot of people would never even realize or have any means to learn or care if the book was out at all. I would talk to store owners about it later, at conventions for example, and they would say, "I never even saw it listed." There are just such an avalanche of books that come out every week, how can any new self-publisher expect to get seen? So I had to admit that not a lot of people would have seen the book. Feeling unrealistically positive though, I assumed I would find ways to get the book out for people to see.

My business helper, Wayne, travels a lot for his work, and he had said he would stop into all the comics shops whenever he went on trips. He had popped into a couple shops in New York, and reported that both shops were carrying my book. Things like that made me feel much better.

First Review

Glenn Walker from www.comicwidows.com wrote an email to the Tabloia website 8/23/04, to let me know how much he enjoyed the book, and that he had posted a review. This was my second time being approached, through the website, by a stranger. And this time it was someone who had actually picked up the book at a shop, read it, and reviewed it out of love. I was ecstatic, because I felt he really got what I was trying to do with the comic. Also, I thought, okay, now the book is catching on! It's out there in the world, and people are finding it. Little did I know that this would basically be the end of other people actually finding it.
So now I've had a little press, and the comic is out, and I'm ready to go out and try and get it seen! Sales may not be as good as I'd like! They're not even as good as the low side of what I was hoping for, but that will obviously pick up, if I work at getting it out there! Right? Right?

41. SAM ASKS ME TO DO "OJO"

So, as he's told me such, I'm assuming Sam and I will do some as-yet-undetermined book at some as-yet-undetermined point in the future. And every time it gets brought up, it gets set back farther in time, because Sam is running so far behind schedule for Ojo, and that's setting back his schedule for the filming of the Ojo movie. And so naturally any future projects are getting pushed so far back, he can't even think at them for maybe a year or so, realistically. And every time he talks to me on the phone, he's stressed out about all this, and telling me how our project is just getting set back farther and farther.

Imagine my surprise when my wife called me at work one day and said, "Chris, there's a message on the machine from Sam, and he said he really needs a big favor from you." At that point I realized he'd left a message on my cell phone as well. I somewhat anxiously called him, and he told me that Alex Pardee, his artist for Ojo, had just been asked to do the artwork for the Used's new album. They were just signed to a major label, and were going on a major tour, and would be on MTV; the whole works. So they also wanted Alex to do the video, touring set designs, t-shirts -- everything. This allowed Alex a nice hefty payment and a lot of work, but no time or monetary incentive to finish Ojo. And Sam had always been impressed with me and how dedicated I was to plugging away and getting through a job, and he knew I had assumed we'd work on one of the other projects some time in the future, but what did I think?

I wasn't sure I understood exactly what he was asking me. But that's how I ended up doing the art with Sam for Ojo.

We discussed what tactic we should take with the art. Sam had had conflicts with the art with Alex, who at first was trying to draw like Sam, but eventually decided to draw in his own style. Sam had been going over many of the pages afterwards anyways, to help add a consistency to the artwork. We finally decided it's difficult enough for a reader to get through a story when the artist changes, let alone with three completely different artists with completely different styles and sensibilities. So I would draw as best I could in the style the book had already established. I had one and a half issues of Ojo to use as my reference material.

The key with the project was speed, as the first issue was already at the printer, and the filming dates for the Ojo film were being set, and none of the actors had a script. At first, Sam sent me layouts of pages, but his layouts were so detailed, he felt it would have taken him just as long to draw completed pages. Add to this I was basically just copying his layouts, and since they were layouts, Sam felt much of it was sloppy, and got frustrated to see much of the same sloppiness he had presented in my final pages. He tended to redraw these, over my "finished" inks.

Eventually he stopped sending me page layouts, and I just drew all the pages from his plot descriptions. I never knew what was going on or being said in the pictures except what he described, because he never sent me dialogue. He would just write that this character talks to that character, and then walks over there. So I never knew for sure what expressions characters should have. I was trying to draw in a Sam Kieth style, but I think most of the pages are pretty evident who did what.

When I finished my pages, he went into them and added his textures, speckles, and chicken-scratches. Also, if he was unhappy enough with a panel, or just envisioned a different angle, for example, he would redraw it on my page. When I saw the finished pages, I was surprised, comparing them to scans of my originals, the things I thought I had done that he redrew, or vice versa.

Sam told me that it was a tough job for me, because I am a no-name and he is Sam Kieth. I'll have some books on my resume, but no one will realize my contribution to the project. Everyone will assume all the bad drawings are by me and all the good ones are by him. Ah well...

I learned a lot from this project. When I drew from his layouts, I realized how easily he captures details with so little. He just draws a squiggle, and it's so obvious it's a shoe and a pant leg. And when I tried to redraw it, I thought, "Well I guess it's kind of a shoe, but how did he get it to look so much like a pant leg? It's just a scribble." Amazing. And his line quality. I learned even more when I looked at how he chose to alter my pages. When I look at my artwork in Ojo, I can't help but wince, and all the more so when it's facing a page of Sam's.

A few fans and reviewers said the art didn't flow, or that they could tell when one page was mine, and one was Sam's. I suspect they assume that a "bad" page was by me and a "cool" page was by Sam, and that in reality it would surprise them to learn who did everything. Sam's art is so inconsistent from panel to panel, with one photo-realistic and detailed, and the next practically a stick-figure, or a cartoon. Whenever I spoke with Oni about the book afterwards, they always seemed happy with the end-result. They said most everyone thought things blended together nicely. They said they weren't sure exactly who drew what. That's the nicest compliments they could give, since that's all I hoped to accomplish.

But as humbling and humiliating as it all feels, I'm very proud to have been a part of this book, and to have been able to help Sam when he was in a serious crunch.

40. GONNA BE A PRO NOW

Now I have three issues of Tabloia completely finished, including covers, letters pages, and title pages. I have pin-ups to cover the first four issues, from some of my favorite artists. I have begun the process of self-publishing. Wheels are in motion and I cannot stop them.

I had picked up a very helpful submissions packet from Diamond Comic Distributors, and it said that they only accept about a third of all proposals asking for distribution. They recommended for my initial submission that I submit two or three issues, so that they can get a better feel for the overall quality of the book, and for the direction the book is going to go. Also, it shows commitment on my part, and it gives me, a new publisher, some lead time for the issues that will come out afterwards. I wrote up a cover letter, listing Dick Ayers doing partial inks, and all the pin-ups artists I had lined up. I sent them full copies of the first three issues. I also told them I planned on doing some advertising to try and get some interest.
It took a few weeks after I submitted all this, and then I received a personal phone call, where they told me they had accepted me for distribution, and I would be listed in the next catalogue. That was a nice feeling, knowing the books would be coming out. We set up an account on the phone, and I had to send in all these forms and information for credit. My first comic would be in stores June, just in time for San Diego's big convention. My business partner, Wayne Jones, and I put together a cover image and description of the first issue, which would be listed in Diamond's Previews catalogue.

I knew I wanted to do some promotion, and went through all the various possibilities that Diamond had to offer. I decided two of them sounded like good ideas. I decided to run an ad in the catalogue that my issue would appear in. I also decided to print mini-posters (11"x14") of the ad, and to have Diamond send them out to the top six hundred shops that buy indie comics.

I had been impressed when I heard Diamond had something like four thousand accounts with stores. Then I thought about it, and talked with people about it, and we decided, that's probably not shops that buy comics every week. We suspected that's basically how many shops have ever bought something from Diamond, and who they have on their record books. All the rest of Diamond's clientele either buy the toys and statues and t-shirts and other comics-related merchandise, or else they only sell X- and Bat- and Spider-books.

While getting ready to self-publish, I'd spoken with a few self-publishers. A very few. But the advice I'd gotten was that, in their experience, advertising money is basically never worth the cost. They all said, you pay for that advertising money, and then that money is gone. I listened to this advice, but I didn't really hear it, and here's why. I assumed, since I had some pretty cool big names who had done pin-ups from me, that if comics fans only found out about all the great pin-ups in my books, they would buy the book. I looked at my pin-ups as my advertising. People would say, "Oh, I love Mike Allred," and that would at least convince them to flip through the issue. And from there, I naively assumed, when people saw my work, they would enjoy it. They would enjoy it so much, I naively assumed, that then they would continue picking up every issue I do after that, because they would become so taken by and impressed with my work.

So I decided, if I ran a full page color ad in Diamond's Previews, that would give people the chance to see all these great artists who would be doing pin-ups of my book, and then they would pick up a few copies for their store. And then they would get my poster, and they would put that up in their store window or at their counter, and then their clients would see it and say, "Wow, that sure looks good. I can't wait to check that out." I naively assumed that there should be at least a thousand Mike Allred, Thomas Yeates, and Gene Colan fans out there (because that's whose pin-ups would be in issue one). I hoped I would sell even more, but kind of stupidly assumed I should get 1000 at least. And once the book came out, everyone would love it, and they would tell all their friends, and all their friends would want to pick up copies, and everyone would keep buying the following issues, and before you know it, I'd have a successful comic on my hands!

The reason I hoped for a thousand sales is that, one of Diamond's requirements for continued distribution is that you make enough sales that they can justify continuing to try and sell your book. If you don't, it's honestly kind of a waste of everyone's time to keep trying. The store can't sell the book, so they don't buy it. The distributor isn't making enough money, and they could be using the space they list your book on someone else. And you the publisher certainly aren't making the money. So it's quite practical. I figured out, based on the amount of money Diamond expected, and based on my first issue's cover price, that a thousand issues is what I needed to sell to be safe with my new distributor. And why shouldn't I be able to make a minimum like that?

When the orders came in, I was disappointed to see they were at 613. Considerably under a thousand. Now I had to decide how many comics to print. Here's how printers work. If you buy a thousand 32-page books, it was about $1300 (including shipping). But if you buy 2000, it's only $1500. If you buy three thousand, it's only $1600. So the more you buy, the less each book costs you, per unit. The reason for this is that the printer's set-up is what costs so much money. Paper and ink cost nothing. So if you think you can sell a lot of books, over time, it's definitely worth it to go with that extra.

The problem is, you have to remember, a thousand extra books is a hell of a lot. That will take up a hell of a lot of space, and you have to keep them from getting banged up or moldy or ruined in other ways until you manage to sell them. And if you don't ever sell that extra thousand, then you're out two hundred bucks more than you could have been. Then you also have all the pain-in-the-ass grief of storing them all those years you didn't sell them, and eventually having to make the painful decision of how you're going to wind up dumping or destroying them all afterwards.

So when I told my business partner, Wayne, about the numbers, he thought I should be proud of that, and he thought I should print a thousand.

But since I was still hopeful the book would catch on, I for some reason decided not to print two thousand, but to print three thousand books! What in the holy hell I was thinking I don't know. I had too much faith. I assumed more people would hear about the pin-ups, and realize they wanted the book if they only heard about it, and sales would be like a snowball down a cliff, and the word would spread, for three thousand issues.

I would say it took me until the third issue's order numbers to come in, before I had to admit just how terribly wrong I was about my hope for everything.

39. PIN-UPS FOR TABLOIA NUMBER THREE

When I shopped around my Dick Ayers-inked pages at San Diego 2003, all three Hernandez Brothers were sitting together at the Fantagraphics table. They each said, individually, they would be interested in doing a pin-up. All of them had their emails posted in their Love and Rockets books, and said to contact them that way.

I sent emails to all of them at once, and I believe Mario was quickest to get back to me. He was really friendly and fun with his correspondence, and excited to do the project from the start. It took him a few months to do the piece for me, and he even apologized for taking so long, although it was really a very reasonable time he managed to get it out. I wasn't in a hurry, because I was planning to have it in the third issue, and I hadn't even gotten the first issue out, and I knew I would be putting the books out quarterly.

Gilbert was much quieter with his emails, and basically just named a price, and then I didn't hear from him for a while. In my typical paranoid fashion, I began to think that the reason I didn't hear from him is that I accidentally mistyped his name in my email. And I really did spell his name wrong. It read "Giblert." Then one day, a plain white envelope with my own address listed as the return address came in the mail. I opened it, and there was a Xerox copy of Klogg: The Thing from the Sink, the pin-up he had done for me. He said if I liked it, send him a check to his address, and he would send me the original. So I basically never corresponded with him. I just told him I wanted the piece, and then he did the piece, and then he sent me the piece.

So at this stage I had two out of three Hernandez monster pin-ups, and Jaime had yet to write me back. So I emailed Gilbert and Mario, and asked them to be sure and tell Jaime what a nice guy I was. Mario warned me that Jaime doesn't even return his (Mario's) emails -- his own brother. He's just reclusive, and hard to get in touch with. And still no word from Jaime.

Ape-Con came around again -- so this is six months or whatever later, and Mario and Jaime were sitting together. Jaime had a line, so I re-introduced myself to Mario, and Mario was real friendly and cool. He seemed genuinely excited to visit with me, after doing the pin-up for me. He told me I paid him better than Fantagraphics, and definitely seemed appreciative. I told him that I feel the artists who've given me such pleasure over the years deserve that much, at least. While I was talking to Mario, Jaime glanced over and realized who I was. I introduced myself, and he seemed honestly embarrassed that he hadn't written me back yet. He pointed out that he's always busy, and he'd be keeping an eye on my emails in his inbox, but they would just work their way down the stack of them before he had a chance to get back to me. He said he would definitely get in touch with me if I wrote him again.

I went home from the con and wrote him again, telling him to let me know how much he'd like as payment, and when he thinks he could have a piece done.

Finally he wrote a short, concise letter saying how much he'd like, and that if I wanted to keep the piece he wanted more. But he didn't say how much more he'd like. The amount was quite a bit, though. He ended the note with, Bet you wish now you hadn't heard from me.

So I wrote back to find out how much extra he would want if he let me keep the piece, and I suggested a price I could afford. He had asked for the high side of what I had paid for all the other artists I'd gotten up to that point -- and he hadn't added in his "keep the piece" fee. I told him if he wanted more money than the numbers I was looking at, it might take me more time to get the money saved up. And I wished I hadn't made an offer, because it made me wonder if I'd insulted him, or if he felt like, oh, just forget this. He didn't write me back again, and I got more nervous the longer I waited. So I finally wrote yet again, telling him to please write and let me know how much he would like, and I didn't name a price this time. And he still didn't write. So finally I wrote and told him, "I am in agony. I AM IN AGONY! Write me back and tell me how much you want, and I will send you a check."

What else can you do, when you'd love a pin-up from this guy, and you have two Hernandez Brothers pin-ups and want to be able to include all of "Los Hernandez," and the last one starts playing hardball? O, how he had me in his snare! ...Or was he legitimately just not much of an emailer?

When I began the process of self-publishing, I designed an ad for my Tabloia comic, which I would use in Previews magazine as well as for a poster to send to shops. I was still waiting to confirm whether Jaime was going to do the pin-up or not. I had listed Mike Allred, Thomas Yeates, Gene Colan, Bill Sienkiewicz, Irwin Hasen, Sam Kieth, Mario and Gilbert Hernandez, and Russ Heath (who it turned out, I wouldn't get a pin-up from for over two years!). I really wanted to include Jaime on this promo, but didn't feel comfortable, since I couldn't really get in touch with him in any way. I thought it might be risky if he saw his name on this ad before we had officially set it up, and opted not to list him.

Finally, he wrote back another brief, succinct note, and named a price, and it was of course more than the price I had asked, making him my most expensive pin-up yet. I would later learn that there are other artists who are worth more, or who ask for more. Of course it depends on the value of their name as an artist, how big they work, how much detail or work they care to put into the piece, what other projects they have going at the moment, how much they really want (or don't want) to draw something for me, and how much drawing it is worth to them. Lots of factors. I try to pay an artist what they ask, but the simple truth is I can't always afford what they ask. Every now and then I'll try and negotiate, and see if they can afford to do something less expensive than their estimate. I ask if we can factor in any variables (size, amount of detail, or even the fact that I'm a lowly self-publisher who loses money every issue I put out). But in the end, they have to decide what it's worth to them to draw me a picture of a monster that will see print.

So when he named his price, I ate it and wrote out a check, and soon his piece came in the mail. But when it came in the mail, it came COD. That bastard, I laughed. Even at that price, it wasn't high enough to include the goddamn shipping??! He just had to stick it to me one more time!

38. A REAL PERSONALITY AT WONDERCON 2004

After my first and memorable experience with Steranko at a store signing, you can imagine how much I was looking forward to another leisurely friendly attempt to get a pin-up from him at Wondercon. I don't think I was quite shaking or perspiring, but I was definitely nervous. Here's what happened at this convention:

He was right by the entrance and easy to find. There were already a dozen people in line, so I immediately joined the line and waited. While I'm waiting, the guy manning the booth is bustling up and down, working really hard, addressing everyone in line, pointing at all the books on the table, saying, "This one has two never-before-published pages of Steranko pencils. This one has a cover that was rejected by Marvel because it was too racy. This reprints his story from..." etc etc. I asked him, "How's the convention going?" He kind of groaned. I inquired, "Not so good?" He replied, "HE (using his head to gesture in the direction of ... STERANKO!) is in a bad mood." Apparently, Steranko was harassing him, complaining, "Where is everyone? The line should be four deep!" And I'm thinking, great, this should prove to be a soothing meeting.

I finally got up to the front of the line. I learned from my previous mistake with him. I didn't try to show him my art, and give him an opportunity to tell me he didn't have time to look at it. I immediately asked up front if he does commissions, and I tried to explain my book a bit. He said he does commissions on occasion, but told me I wasn't talking about a commission, I wanted work for hire to publish, which is different. He understood what I was looking for, so I didn't bother to argue semantics with him. He said, how much? I said I wanted to know what he thought would be fair. He said, How about ten thousand. I tried to stutter that that was out of my price range. No? he laughed. Then how about twelve thousand? I just tried to stay on track. I told him the pin-up would be a back page in the book, and he said, "BACK page? BACK page!!!??"

The woman in line behind me was shaking her head, so Steranko said, much, I think, to his amusement, "My agent (pointing at this woman) says no." Her thinking being that the great Steranko only accepts cover work. No one should dare to push him to the back pages.
So I'm trying to explain my position, and I began blubbering like an ignoramus that I admired his work, and would do what I could to get anything I could from him. In the midst of my fawning, he stood up, and said, "Chris, Chris. SHUT UP! Here's what I want you to do. You'll be here all day? Come back later, and you make me an offer, okay? And take off that tie! That thing's awful!" And he sent me on my way.

I wear ties to every convention. Partly I like to show my respect for the medium, but also I know that there are so many faces that everyone sees throughout the day, I want any edge I can get to help people remember me. I've been doing it since I first started going to portfolio reviews.

So I'm sweating all day. My friends think I should screw this guy. They think it's bullshit that he's treating me like this. But I really do admire his work, and in the end, I'd really like to try and get a pin-up from him. And deep down, perhaps in a perverse way, I've always kind of enjoyed, not being treated like shit, but just the whole attitude he's giving off. I think it's just his way of being funny, and I do find it pretty funny, in an outrageous way. So finally at the end of the day I go back and wait in line again.

While in line, I realize one of the guys working the table is someone I had showed my monster stories to at San Diego last year, so I get talking with him again and showing him my stuff, and he's real friendly and interested. I get up to the front of the line, and I say to Steranko, "I know you said to take off the tie, but I wanted to make sure you recognized me." So he immediately lays into me about the tie.

"That thing's terrible. Take it off!"

I said, "Oh, I assumed you were just kidding earlier."

"TAKE IT OFF!"

"If you're serious, I'm happy to take it off for you, because I respect you that much."

"I'm serious. Take it off! Where did you get that thing?"

I told him, "It was my Grandfather's. He passed away."

Finally he settled down a little.

I offered him a payment that caused him to look me in the eye and finally listen.

"I am self-publishing a six issue comic. I already have the covers commissioned, and they have a cohesive look between all of them. It's a pseudo-anthology with four different stories in each issue. The final story is the monster story inked by Dick Ayers. Following the monster story is the pin-up section, and each issue will have three pin-ups." I realize I'm leaning on his table, and my hand is shaking, I'm so nervous to make this proposition. Sometimes I'm stuttering, and I apologize and tell him I'm really nervous.

He grabs my arm and bellows, "Chris! Chris! We're all friends here!"

As I'm about to go through my usual list of what I'd like for mt payment, he booms, "I KEEP THE ARTWORK!"

And I'm thinking, shit.

He continues, "I KEEP THE ARTWORK, AND YOU HAVE FULL PUBLISHING RIGHTS!"

I tell him I was hoping to keep the artwork, but here are some other things. "Go ahead!" he shouts.

I'd like to announce your pin-up is in my book, for advertising, press releases...

"DONE!" he shouts, and I jump back a little. "What else? NEXT! NEXT!"

I want the payment to be in full.

"FINE! WHAT ELSE?"

"Well, I offered that price assuming I could keep the art."

"NO, I ALWAYS KEEP THE ART. THAT'S MY POLICY!"

"If you keep the art, is there a price you could work that's lower, and still put out a nice project?"

So then he goes into his sell-mode:

"Chris, I've helped out other artists in the past, helped them get their start. For the price you've offered, I give you a monster pin-up that's pretty ass-kicking. It's in black-and-white? Good, good, then we don't have to worry about color. You've got a good project, and so I'm happy to do it. If I didn't think it looked very good, I'd just tell you I'm not interested. You can bill me as the top pin-up if you want. You can really push my name any way you want, as long as you don't make it look like it's a Steranko book."

"That wouldn't be fair to anyone." I showed him how we've handled pin-up names on the book cover and ad.

"That looks fine."

"So is there a lower price you could work at?"

"No, that's my starting price."

I told him that was a lot of money, and I'd have to think about it. He gave me his email. "Now that's my personal email, goes straight to me." I told him it would be great if we could work something out, because I'd love to get a pin-up from him. I realized, though, that for the money he was asking, I couldn't afford not to own the art as well. And that was that, and I left feeling exhausted.

37. WONDERCON 2004

Was really excited that Steranko would be there. Walked in, immediately scoped out where he was, but he had a fair pack of admirers, and it was early! I was too intimidated, so I walked through artists alley. Saw Tom Coker, a local friend-of-a-friend, who looked over my stuff and said it looked good. Asked him about doing a pin-up, and he said he was probably up for it. I wondered if I was a little rude, because I just flopped my portfolio on top of all his stuff, and took up space that fans could have used to approach him and buy his stuff. I hoped I didn't scare off his business.

It's a long story, but Steranko said he'd do a pin-up! STERANKO! But there are plenty of catches to that story, and it's all outrageous and painful and crazy and too big to tell here...

Ryan Sook spotted me and immediately said, "Hi Chris." I had given copies of my Dick Ayers-inked monster stories at Super-Con earlier, and new he said he read them and really enjoyed them. That was nice that he not only recognized me and was friendly, but remembered my name as well. It really meant something to me.

I bugged Russ Heath again. A younger woman (daughter?) was sitting with him. I think she was shocked when I let drop I commissioned him a year ago, and the check I sent him had expired. She sounded like she would help me hound him to get the goddamn thing taken care of. I planned to call and bug him some more, now that I had support from inside his fortress.

Michael Kaluta was as friendly as ever. He acted like he remembered me, and still expressed interest in doing a pin-up, and acknowledged he hadn't written back to my emails. Funny, friendly guy. Said he charges differently for projects, based on how much work he does, and that he charges the going rate. I'll be sure to continue to bother him.

I approached Sergio Aragones, showed him all the monster pages and pin-ups, and he basically said he isn't interested. I thought he would be interested, since his response the year before was that he likes to wait for someone to have a few issues out, so that he can make sure it's something he wants to contribute to. Even though I didn't have the issues out yet, I had three issues completed, and a bunch of cool artists involved with my book. Made me a little sad. I hadn't realized how much I thought he could really do a great pin-up. He was an important comics artist for me, during my formative comics-reading years as a kid.

Art Adams says he's "under exclusive contract with DC and can't". It was too bad, because I've heard that from a few other artists, and always kind of take it to mean...He's not interested. What was especially too bad, is that I'd bugged him at earlier cons, and he hadn't been exclusive at those times, but we hadn't managed to work anything out. Shucks.

Dave Stevens said he may have time! Well, specifically, he said, "You never know." That would kick ass! I think now that I've bugged him the last three conventions he's starting to recognize me. He laughed like hell at the stories this year, even though I'd shown him basically the same stories the year before. He seemed impressed with some of the pin-ups I'd gotten. This year, he said, "You know what would have been brilliant?" He said, "This is good, but what have been great is if you'd had different Kirby inkers each ink a story." And then he listed a bunch of Kirby inkers who were still alive and going strong.

In previous years I had noticed JH Williams III at the cons. I had asked to buy an issue of Promethea I was missing, that he had out at his table. He had replied, with perhaps some embarrassment, that they were just out as displays of work he's done, and not for sale. Another time I had brought my copy of Promethea #1, and he had signed it. Now this year, I showed him my monster stuff, and he said he would be up for doing a pin-up.

When I saw Matt Wagner listed, I managed to hunt down his email. I wrote him beforehand that I'm a fan, and was doing monster books. I sent a couple of my favorite pages to him, and he immediately wrote back. He said it looked like "a buttload of fun." He was very sweet at the convention. He signed a couple books I brought, and got a good laugh out of all the monster stories. He liked that all the monster names sounded borderline dirty, but didn't quite cross the line.

Bruce Timm was listed to be doing signings for some cartoon-related thing. I spotted where he was at, and kept my eyes peeled. It was a strange set-up, though, where you had to pay ten or twenty dollars or something, and that allowed you the privilege of walking up where he was and getting a photo or something signed. I just wanted to go talk to him, but it was too intimidating a set-up.

By chance, I saw him leaving the booth at one point. I said, "Bruce," and he kind of turned and winced, like he was hoping to sneak out, and didn't want to be bothered. I just told him I was a fan of his work, and he thanked me, and we parted. I continued on to the escalator, and turning around, realized he was right behind me. He had a cigarette, and was obviously heading out for a smoke. I had the whole escalator ride up with him, but was too scared to say anything. He gave such a vibe of, "I don't want anyone to talk to me," I felt too intimidated to turn around.

Overall, it was about as fun a Wondercon as I tended to have. Plenty of potential for some new pin-ups from some great artists, and the peace of mind knowing that certain ones weren't necessarily interested.

36. DR. DeBUNKO AND THE SKEPTICS SOCIETY

I had created Dr. DeBunko and written a few of his stories before I learned of the Skeptics Society.

I always enjoyed books that questioned or looked critically about claims people have made, whether it involves witches, the existence of monsters, UFOs, conspiracy theories, or literal interpretations of religion. I just never knew where to look for information to fuel my interests.

One day Elizabeth called me while she was driving around town. She had been listening to National Public Radio, and she said, "Honey, I think you better turn the radio on right now. There's a guy on from this organization called the Skeptics Society, and he's talking about debunking UFOs and things."

That was all I needed to hear. I turned it on as quick as I could find a radio in a box in the closet and get it plugged in. Michael Shermer was the guest, and listening to him made me feel like I'd found my home. He made me feel like I was an orphan, and at last I'd found my family. He was putting into words all these beliefs I'd held and never been able to express.

Soon Elizabeth bought me a couple of Dr. Shermer's books, and now I was really hooked. I visited their website and got myself a subscription to their magazine. And I noticed there was a "contact" for Dr. Shermer. So I wrote to him and told him I had written these Dr. DeBunko stories, and could I send him some copies. I wrote that I thought it was important for both of us to try and gain acceptance in other mediums and spread each others' messages. His message is for people to try and use common sense and analytical thinking. My message is maybe less bold, but that comics can be a valid artistic medium. I said, if comics readers can learn to become skeptical thinkers, and skeptics (comprising of scientists, doctors, professors) can...well, who the hell knows? read comics? At any rate, to try and cross-pollinate, and support each other. I told him my only disappointment joining the Skeptic Society was that they didn't send me a card, so that I could say I was a card-carrying Skeptic. I told him I was going to make a card myself, just so I could say it.

He received my stories, and wrote back that until he's made into a cartoon character on the Simpsons, this was the coolest thing anyone had ever done to honor him or his work. He asked if he could post my letter at his website, which gets a readership of 10,000 hits a week or something insane. I thought this was the greatest.

At this time, I was just getting ready to go to the printer with my first issue of Tabloia, featuring a bunch of stories, and also Dr. DeBunko. My website was up, and the book was ready to order. I started fantasizing in grandiose ways about possibilities with this new union between intellect and schlock pop culture.

I had the gall to resend my original letter, with my website and other printing info in it, so that it would be a better advertisement of my book. He didn't write back, but he did post the updated letter, and I got an extra thousand hits to my website. WOW! Stars were in my eyes. I couldn't believe my luck. I couldn't believe the exposure I was going to get. Stardom, here I come, I was beginning to think once again.

I wrote Michael Shermer and asked if he would mind if, in my comics, I recommended readers visit his website. I asked if I could print t-shirts that said "Dr. DeBunko wants you to join the Skeptics Society." I even asked if maybe I should redraw the Dr. DeBunko stories, and have Dr. DeBunko look like Michael Shermer.

In the end, I decided against this. I began to realize that my excitement about this union was considerably more than the Skeptic Society's. And why shouldn't it be? Dr. Shermer is a bestselling author, and he edits Skeptic Magazine and directs the Skeptic Society. He's got shit to do besides all this stupid comics junk. That's how it should be, too.

Amongst the thousand extra Skeptic hits to my website, a few people asked about subscriptions. I had to explain I was a self-publisher, and the first issue wasn't out yet, and I didn't have anything to sell at my website, and I would only be putting the issues out every three months or so, but that they could get them at their local comics shop. For some reason, I assumed everyone would be excited to put in this effort, and would regularly check in at my website, and rush down to their comics shop every few months and order my comics, and tell all their friends, and the fire would spread!

Most of them, I just never heard from again. Who knows if they figured out the complicated way of ordering comics at a comics shop. (The way of ordering comics at a comics shop is that they were supposed to order them two months before the book came out, and if they didn't, the shop probably wouldn't be able to find the issue, and certainly the book isn't popular enough that they would carry it.) Most likely, if they tried at all, they couldn't find it, and just forgot about it. And even if they did find it, Dr. DeBunko was just one of four stories in the comic, and the rest weren't very skeptical, so they might not have enjoyed them anyways. If by some complete fluke, they picked up the first issue, they probably realized it wasn't their thing, and didn't bother to look for any future issues.
I sent twenty or so copies of my first issue to Dr. Shermer, which he said he planned to spread and share. After the first issue, he said it would be fine to just send him one, which I did. I also sent him a t-shirt, which he said he really enjoyed and wears. So eventually things kind of fizzled out with the Skeptics Society...for now...

35. MY TRIP TO SAN FRANCISCO WITH SAM

I carpooled to the convention with my friend, Tim Foster, who had introduced me to Sam Kieth a few years ago, and who went to APE with me last year. The surprise was that Sam wanted to go this year, so we all made the hour-plus drive down together, with another couple of their friends.

When we got down, Sam had some sample pages of his new project, Scratch, which he shared. He also had a few sketches of a ditsy female that he wanted me to look at. This was his character for the project he wanted me to draw.

I felt so cool to be sitting in the food court with Sam Kieth, and him showing me his artwork and talking about the project we'd be working on together.

To finance the book we'd do together, we knew he had to get some work from a big company. He had three suggestions for possibilities. One would be a Batman story of his choice. He told me he planned to make it a Batman/Joker story. This was offered to him, because Batman was a character in his latest project, Scratch, but only on the first page of the first issue, and for a few more pages in the last issue. The other projects were some real-world version of Marvel superheroes, and some other similar, lesser project. Sam was asking my advice, about which project I thought he should accept. It's weird, because I find, when I'm talking to Sam, he'll be asking me something, but I don't realize he's looking for my advice, and he keeps poking around it, and then suddenly says, So what do you think? It always throws me off guard. I told him the real-world thing sounded the least interesting to me, at least as far as something fans could get excited about. I told him, for myself, I'd want to go for the biggest, coolest, most popular heroes around, because that's what everyone will buy. Maybe his fans will try out the other stories, but no one will remember any of them. He said, Really? He thought for sure I'd like the sound of the real-world thing, since he knows my noir sensibility. At that moment, his friend Tim came up, and agreed that you've got to go for the big gun stories.

We split up. I went and found Daniel Clowes over at Fantagraphics, with only a moderate line to wait in. I made my usual pitch, showing him all my Dick Ayers-inked monster stories and pin-ups. Of course I made sure he knew the Hernandez Brothers had contributed pin-ups (I had ones from Gilbert and Mario by then). He seemed encouraging, and like he might be willing to do one at some time in the future. He said check back next year, because he's really busy right now. That would be a real treat, to get something from him.

Likewise, I met Adrian Tomine, who seemed a little less interested. That's what I expected from him, though, based on his non-monster work. I don't suspect he's ever even thought to draw a giant monster.

I saw Jaime and Mario Hernandez. I reintroduced myself to Jaime, and told him I was the guy who had kept emailing him about a monster pin-up. He had never written me back, and he looked pretty guilty about that, and told me he gets a lot of emails, and sometimes they just work their ways to the bottom. But he said to write him again.

Mario was friendly as can be, and actually hung out and visited with me. We talked about mainstream comics, and how DC had approached him about doing some DC characters, but Mario had his own ideas for stories he wanted to do at DC. He pitched an idea for a revamp of someone weird and obscure in the DC universe, like Prez or the Goon or something, but DC told him they were finished doing revamps. They just wanted him to do a superhero story, and he wasn't interested in just doing a superhero story, and the potential work fizzled out. While we were visiting, Sam Kieth walked up and listened, and then made some comment and wandered off. I told Mario, "That was Sam Kieth." And Mario seemed surprised, like he didn't realize he was talking with a well-established professional.

I think Gary Groth was listed this year as a "featured guest" at APE, so I looked for info about him online. I didn't know if he wrote or drew, but for some reason I really liked the sound of his name. "Gary Groth." Somehow there was a mystique to him, before I even knew who he was.

I found an interview of him online, and learned he had been an editor at Marvel, but quit because he hated mainstream comics. I realized he was in charge of Fantagraphics, and the Comics Journal. Over the years and months I would start noticing the Comics Journal, and how intellectual it looked for a magazine about comics. How it looked more like a prestigious art magazine than a Wizard Toy and Price Guide, for example. And it was so big and heavy. And so dense with text. And artsy, and expensive.

At this time, I knew nothing about who the editors or reviewers were. But now I began hearing more about the Comics Journal, and how it would dissect an individual comic, or page of a comic, and just tear it apart. And people would argue for pages and pages about way-too-theoretical, pseudo-intellectual abstractions. How pretty much anything that got reviewed in the Journal was strongly disliked and belittled. It made me want to be a part of this elite, snobbish community. I've always wanted to be part of these snobbish in-crowds, for some reason. Always been attracted to them.

After spending some time alone poking around, I found Sam, who was talking with Gary Groth. He introduced me, and I just followed them around. Gary was putting together a sketchbook full of artists, which I believe was going to be given to someone important or auctioned for something important, and Sam drew a little sketch in it.

Sam was complaining to Gary. Sam has been in the industry for so many years. He got his start at Fantagraphics. He's done mainstream art, but he's always edgier than most of what they put out. He likes the sensibility of indie, and he's trying to do more personal projects, and no one will give him any attention. Gary, of course, hadn't heard of Sam's Four Women or Zero Girl. Fantagraphics put out the Comics Journal every couple months. Could Gary please think of Sam if he ever needs to fill space with an interview. Or something.

Sam asked Gary about books Gary liked, and artists he liked. First Gary only admitted to liking books Fantagraphics puts out. Finally he admitted he was a big fan of Barry Windsor Smith, loving his work when he was younger, so that love has kind of remained. He and Sam got talking about all the other indie comics companies, and Gary smiled and sarcastically said he really liked having all these other companies in the market, because it meant that all these shitty artists who used to send Fantagraphics all these shitty proposals could send their shitty proposals to all these other companies and leave him alone. That's why he liked all these new companies. He basically suggested that the only books he liked were Fantagraphics books, and that he didn't even like everything Fantagraphics puts out, and Sam pressed him to try and name a book published by someone else that he thought was okay. Sam asked him about a specific graphic novel that he thought was very good, and that everone seemed to be talking about, and was getting very good press and critical attention. Gary said he didn't think it was any good.

Sam basically made Gary look at my monster pages. Gary was very polite about going through all the pages. He seemed impressed Dick Ayers was inking, and asked if Dick had an autobiography. I told him Dick was currently working on an autobiography in comic form, and Gary kind of snorted, and I wasn't sure how to interpret the snort.

I told him Gary had shown my stuff around, and didn't really get any interest, so I was planning to self-publish. I told him I'd sent stuff to Fantagraphics. He said, "Fantagraphics? Not these pages." Which was a tremendous boost to me. To me, it suggested he thought if I had submitted these monster pages, Fantagraphics wouldn't have given me a rejection.

Sam bought my lunch. I think he felt guilty, knowing he wouldn't be able to pay me much on our comics project, and this was the least he could do.

It was a really fun con for me. Great to spend so much time with Sam. I really enjoyed getting a chance to hang out with Gary, too. He has this personality that's negative, and kind of condescending, but in a funny, entertaining way. I've met a lot of people like this, who I always find intimidating, and who a lot people might think are just assholes, but I find them to be a real hoot, and I can't get enough of them.

34. WORKING TOWARD SELF-PUBLISHING

Figuring out the Publishing Side

My college friend, Damon Thompson, had agreed to make the cover images for Tabloia. Years before, we had talked about doing a comic together, and it never panned out, but I thought of him again come time for the covers, and he came up with gorgeous images. So at this stage, I had a few issues of art completed, some great covers, and some nice pin-ups.

I was getting to know a friend, Wayne Jones, who had published a few books, and when he heard I was doing comics, he said maybe he'd enjoy helping me to publish. I gave him some copies of my stories, and we got together over lunch. The first thing he said was, he had a chance to read them, and he thought they were good. He just thought I needed to work on my stories and characterization a little bit, and I may have something.

That blow really shocked and hurt. I couldn't really look at him as I tried to ask, "Like what do you mean? What do you have in mind?" And he immediately said, Just kidding. Man, though, that comment stuck with me and kept me insecure toward him ever since.

That lunch, we talked about me doing all the art and editorial, and him just keeping strictly to the publishing. That's exactly how I wanted it. He talked about seeing if there were a way I could get a business loan, and use the loan not only to pay for the publishing, but to give myself a salary, so that I could work on the comics instead of needing a job. He said if he was going to be the publisher, he would pay a salary, but then he would get rights to the work, and we'd have to work out how much, and things like that.

All this was interesting and exciting to talk about. I kept working on my drawings and thinking about how I wanted to do this. It was a lot of pressure in one way, because if the book didn't do well, I would have the guilt of knowing this guy was going to lose his own personal money.

Finally, we decided we would prefer for me to finance it myself, and he said he was happy to give his help, however I needed it, without paying him. By this time, we had tried to crunch some numbers, as far as how much the books would cost, running ads, etc. And it was evident very early on that we couldn't hope to make any money, even if the book sold all right. Of course I kind of hoped it would sell pretty well, and had no conception of just how much money I would soon lose.

While we were making these plans, I was getting ready to submit a request to the Xeric Grant, for the third time. I had been showing Wayne everything I wrote and drew, and so now I showed him my previous two years of submissions to the grant. He said, You've got to learn to write a grant. And he helped me put together my third proposal. The plan was that we would begin the publishing process after the winners of the grant were announced, whether we were awarded or not. When we weren't awarded, Wayne told me that he never thought I had a chance of getting it anyways, and was surprised I even bothered to try at all. I assume he thought I just made too much money, having a wife that makes a decent living, and making a decent living myself. But he never specified exactly just what he meant.

I bought a huge, expensive 12"x17" scanner and scanned all the images, and then got copies to Wayne. He would clean the images up, size them, and get them ready for the printer. He laid out and formatted all the text pages for me. He got in touch with our printer. He helped me put a package together to submit to Diamond, containing the first three issues. He told them we wanted to run an ad and send out promotional posters, and Diamond agreed to distribute our book. He helped me get the account together with Diamond, and we were ready to begin publishing.

Of course, I thought it was just a matter of time now, before I become an instant, overnight superstar. I was proud of the book. People had told me they thought it was good. So why not? That's what you always hope, you know?

33. THE XERIC GRANT

Part of my decision to self-publish was the knowledge that there was a grant out there that could potentially give me up to $5000 toward getting my book out. A rejection letter from Fantagraphics recommended I try applying. I strongly felt that the quality of my work would be high enough that I had a real shot at getting it. So by the time I was growing tired of waiting in portfolio reviews, I had enough artwork to basically put a book out. I started imagining applying for the Xeric Grant.

I recommend that anyone who plans to self-publish should apply to this very generous Grant. I think it's a great experience, and teaches you a lot, even if you don't win it. It throws you into the process of self-publishing. It forces you to sit down and write a comic, and then to draw it. But on top of that, it asks for your strategy, your game plan. So you have to know or learn how to make a comic out of these pages of art you've drawn, and how to get it out into the world. You have to learn how the comics market works. You have to figure out a way to scan your images, and clean all those blemishes and smudges, and then load all the pages, in the right order, onto a disc. Those pages have to be ready for the printer. Then you have to find a printer, and figure out how much the printer will charge, and how many copies you will get. You have to figure out how many issues to print (or what the printing minimum is, in which case you'll wind up with extras), and where and how you're going to store all those extra issues. Then you have to try and get a distributor, and get your books from the printer to the distributor. You have to figure out if you're going to try and advertise, and if so, where you'll get the most bang for your buck. Who is your audience, and what are they reading, and how much is it to get an ad there? Do you want to try and call as many stores as you can, or go into stores, or send flyers or posters to the stores? And how much will posters or flyers cost, and how many do you need?

I was not awarded with the Xeric Grant. You may apply twice per year, and I applied for it three times in a row, and I never got the grant. But just the same it was invaluable.

I applied with my first issue of Tabloia. Then, for that year's second semester, I applied with my first two issues of Tabloia. Then the next semester, I submitted the first three issues of Tabloia. I wanted to show them I was working hard, and consistently. I wanted to show them I was getting work done. I was progressing. And that I had lead time now.

Each time, I submitted the completely finished books. I had the covers, I had the pin-ups, I had the letters pages, I had the editor's comments. I had the pages numbered. Everything. It was ready for the printer each time. I forced myself, with the pressure of applying to the grant, to have finished books, ready to send to the printer and be distributed.

It forced me to understand the entire process. What you need to do to get a book self-published. What you need to do, who you need to get in touch with, how you need to do it. And it forced me to do it on a schedule. Very important lessons.

While going through this process, another very important, helpful source for me was Diamond Comics. Whenever I've spoken with people about Diamond Distributors, they say the same thing. If there's any way you can, get distribution from Diamond. They will deliver you better sales numbers by ten times (seriously, ten times!) than any other distributor you find.

I spoke with Diamond at the San Diego Con, and they mailed me a packet full of great information. All that info I had, and more, can be accessed at their website, http://www.diamondcomics.com/ . If you click"vendors," it takes you to a goldmine of thorough info. Click on every link they list at the left. You'll learn about the market, what you need to do as a publisher, how to put together a submissions packet to try and get distribution through them, and it even has a list of printers that specialize in comics printing. It has a list of comics magazines that write about comics, and may be able to review your books or interview you. It has a list of marketing strategies they can offer to help you get your book known out in the industry, and how much the different strategies would cost, and what you will get out of it. The packets explain that Diamond is always getting submissions, and they accept about a third of the applicants for distribution. Those aren't great odds. They explain their expectations of you, as your distributor. They expect you to deliver your books on time, in decent quality. They will pay you a month after they receive your books. They were always very kind and helpful on the phone to me.

Another great resource of information for self-publishers, which I didn't become aware of until after I had started publishing (unfortunately) is http://www.coldcut.com. Click on "info for publishers," where they have a lot of the same stuff, but also their own distribution guidelines, as well as links to info for self-publishing, distributing zines, indie-friendly stores, and printers that will do runs of only 20-100 copies, versus the five hundred to a thousand minimums a lot of printers require.

Okay, beginners and aspiring comics self-publishers. How does a distributor work? They pay you 40% of your cover price. You may think, what a rip-off. But here's why. You get forty, and Diamond only gets ten percent. The store buys the books at 50% off, and can make double their money back. So you think, that's such a rip-off. But here's why. You will make your money whether your book sells in stores or not. However many books get ordered, you are guaranteed you'll make that money. The distributor makes their money no matter what, because they are distributing the book, whether it sells or not. The store is the only one taking a real chance, because if that book doesn't sell, they're stuck with your shitty, useless book. They're the ones who suffer the risk, not you. If they don't order enough, they won't make money they could have made that month. If they order too many, they'll never sell it, and they basically threw away their money. All you the publisher has to do is get a store to take a chance on it, and you're covered. A store can go out of business if they buy too many of a particular book that doesn't sell. I know store owners who have misguessed what books would sell, and it's practically ruined them. Well, it's hurt them pretty good, anyways.

With bookstores selling actual books (and not this trashy, junk medium called comics), the stores get a very small discount, but if a book doesn't sell, the store can send it back and get a refund. So if you write novels, you may think you've made all these sales, but six months later, you have to pay the stores back for all your books they didn't sell. So that's the difference. In my opinion, it's actually a very fair system. The one who takes the risks should be potentially rewarded the most.

With comics, the self-publisher has another advantage. You don't have to go to the printer until you know exactly how many copies you've sold. That means you don't have to pay money to print until you know how much money you've made selling your book. That's a hell of a nice advantage. You can figure out exactly how many you can afford to print, and make a decision as to how many extras you think you can sell.

So if you want to take the route I tried, you apply to Diamond with your book, and if it's accepted, it will be listed in Diamond's Previews catalogue a couple months later. All the comics shops around the nation get Diamond's catalogue, and they have a month to go through it and decide what books they want to buy. They'll order twenty copies of Batman, and fifteen X-books, two copies of the latest Vertigo comic, and if you're lucky, they'll see your book and give it a try with maybe one copy. There are maybe a few thousand comics shops out there, but only maybe six hundred actually buy indie (or non-Spider/Bat/X) -books. So then Diamond gets all these order sheets in from all the stores, and they tally up how many of your issue sold, and then they tell you, and you have a month to get them printed and sent to Diamond.

These are some of the things I learned through the process of submitting to the Xeric Grant. Give it a try, potential self-publishers! You won't regret it!

32. SUPER CON OCTOBER 2003

Every now and then, I would be at a comics shop or local Sacramento Comic-Con, and see a flyer for Super Con. I'd been to it a few times in Oakland, just to go through comics bins, and now I saw a flyer for a new venue. I thought this was a pretty small convention, but I was excited to see Ryan Sook and John Romita Jr. would be there. I was also interested to check in with Bill Morrison again, since I'd met him at a local Sac-Con.

I got to the con, and it was in a pretty small hall. Felt like a gym, actually. John Romita Jr. had a huge line, so I found Ryan Sook. I'd just read his Arkham Asylums, which I really enjoyed. I told him so, and he was appreciative. I asked if he was doing sketches, and he said he'd do one for me. I told him to draw anyone he liked, and he said he enjoyed drawing the Egghead from Arkham Asylum, and it was a nice sketch, but I wondered why I didn't just ask for Batman or the Joker. Let that be a lesson, fans: If there's someone you'd like a sketch of, don't say, "Draw whatever you want." Just ask, or else you won't get it.

I showed Ryan copies of my Dick Ayers-inked Kirby-style monster stuff, and he got a kick out of them. I offered to give him copies. By this time I had maybe half a dozen pin-ups to show off as well (Mike Allred, Thomas Yeates, Gene Colan, Sam Kieth, Irwin Hasen, Bill Sienkiewicz, Mario and Gilbert Hernandez), and he was impressed with who I had so far. I was feeling pretty good about it myself.

Sitting with Ryan was Mick Gray, and Mick was really friendly too. He also got a kick out of the monster stories, and was impressed with the pin-ups. I found myself going and hanging out with them, throughout the con, whenever I ran out of things to do.

I told them how the last stories Dick had inked for me (particularly the second story, "Terror Lurks Deep in the Heart of Africa"), I was surprised what a thin line Dick had used. I had penciled with thin lines, but assumed Dick would go in with a nice fat brush and bulk things up. It made me realize that often, comics foreground and background isn't delineated with line quality, to the degree I thought. Color has more of an effect on depth than I realized. This was interesting to me, since I'd only seen my own work in black-and-white, and began visualizing it in this way, and using line-qualities accordingly. But I hadn't necessarily communicated this to Dick. So now, as I was working on the pencils for my fourth Doris Danger story, I told Mick I had begun drawing really thick lines in pencil, so that Dick would know exactly how I wanted the lines drawn.
Mick said he thought this was essential as a penciller. He said if he doesn't talk to the penciller, all he has to go on, for getting the art done right, is the penciling he sees. If the pencils give directions, then he can make it work accordingly.

This discussion led me to pencil more specifically than I'd yet done for Dick's pages. When I sent them, I also included a note that I hoped he could use lots of nice thick brush-lines, to give it a real retro, authentic 1960's feel. When I got these pages back from Dick, he included a note with it. He said that when he inked the "so-called" King, Stan would tell him to be sure and make the work jump out. To emphasize it. Then he said my pages really shined this time, and that he practically just had to trace them. He said he just wants to make my work a little more dynamic. What a rewarding note! See how you learn as you go!

The John Romita Jr. line never died down, so I finally got in it and waited. It moved really slowly, but everyone in line was saying, it's worth it, because he's giving free sketches to everyone. We watched a lot of people coming out of line with Spider-Man sketches, and wondered if he was just doing Spider-Man only, but it turned out he'd do a sketch of anything you wanted. For whatever reason, everyone wanted a Spider-Man sketch, which I thought was kind of funny, because he would just do a head shot, and it seems to me you can't really do so much with a Spider-Man head shot, you know? It's just the shape of a head with some web-lines on it. If you ask ten artists to draw a Spider-Man head shot, they'll all look basically the same, won't they? It's like asking for an Iron Man head shot. Anyways, that's what I thought.

I wanted a Hobgoblin sketch. I assume he created or co-created the character, since that first appearance was under his name. I thought that would be really special.

As I got close enough to hear him talking with other fans, and interact with him, I joked that people in line just wanted a sketch of Galactus fighting the Fantastic Four and the Avengers. I heard someone ask him what his page rate is, and he wouldn't tell him, and when the person left, he kind of rolled his eyes, to say, "It's none of his business what my page rate is."

I finally got to the front of the line, and asked if he could sign a couple books and do a sketch. He signed the comics and waited to hear what I wanted a sketch of. I tried to kind of show him my monster book and ask him about doing a pin-up. I opened by saying I've got kind of a tricky one for him, and he looked like he didn't want a tricky one. He said, "Uh oh," like he didn't like the sound of this. "Don't say tricky," he said. "I don't like tricky." I showed him the Dick Ayers-inked pages, and explained I'd like a pin-up of a giant monster, and told him he could draw something in any style, in any setting, and I showed him some of the other artists. I told him, so it would just be a giant monster. It can look any way you want, it just has to be big.

So he was sitting there and listening very intently this whole time. When I was through, he said,"Okay, I understand. Just don't say tricky. This I can do."

He started drawing my sketch, and I asked him about getting contact info from him, and at first he started to give me his wife's email, but then he thought twice about it, and said just go to the Spider-Man message board. I asked if he looked there and read everything, and he said, oh yeah, he would definitely get any messages I posted there. And so in trying to describe what I had in mind for the pin-up, and trying to fill the otherwise empty space while I waited for my sketch, I was re-telling him what I had in mind for the pin-up. That it could be any giant monster, as long as it's big. He seemed to me as if I confused him, and he didn't know what to make of me. I felt as if I was one of those annoying freaks that the artists are polite to, but whom they would like to leave them alone.

He handed me the sketch, and said, "How's that? It's a monster." I thanked him, and moved on.

As I left I realized two things:

One. I didn't ever ask him for a sketch of Hobgoblin. I just asked for a sketch, and then I started showing him my giant monster work, so he thought I was asking him for a sketch of a giant monster.

Two. Because he thought the whole time I was talking about the sketch he was working on, and didn't make myself clear, he misunderstood when I was asking for his contact info. He completely missed that I was trying to commission him for a pin-up. So as a result of my inability to communicate my desires:

One. I wound up without the sketch of Hobgoblin that I wanted, and

Two. I had no way to contact him about the pin-up I wanted.

This business of trying to contact him by message board, I knew, wouldn't work. It would mean posting a note amongst all the Spider-fans, who would be asking questions about which villains Spidey could beat up, and what issue did this happen, and who has the cooler costume, and how they found a continuity error that they couldn't believe. I didn't plan to leave my email there and try to explain what I was doing again, so I knew I was out of luck for trying to get a pin-up from John Romita Jr. Kind of frustrating.

Overall, I had an all right time at the con, quiet though it was. I really enjoyed Mick and Ryan, and even had a chance to talk with Bill Morrison a bit, who was friendly as always, drawing portraits of fans in the Simpsons style. What fun that is!

31. SAM SAYS HE'D LIKE TO WORK WITH ME

So after a time Sam Kieith called me one day and said to me, "Now I wanted to tell you that I approached Tim (our mutual friend) about doing a book together, but it in no way means I don't think you're a good enough artist. Tim has a particular style that I thought would go well with this particular story I had in mind. I plan to work with you at some point. I'm just waiting for a project that I think your art would suit."

He was afraid I felt jealous or upset or unfairly treated, but 1. I hadn't even heard about him asking Tim and not me to do a book, 2. I wouldn't have cared if I had, and 3. He had just said he might like to work with me some time.

I had pretty much stopped collecting comics right when Sam had made his hit on the comics scene, in the early nineties, so I had missed all of his work. I also knew that his style of art, and his story themes and sensibilities, were very different than mine, so I hadn't expected this at all.

Sure enough, over the next few months, he started telling me some story ideas he had, and asked which ones I liked best. He went so far as to give me some sketches of characters, and talk about the art style he envisioned. Of course, he always warned that these projects could be pretty far in the future, because his plate was full. In addition to his Marvel books and covers to pay the bills, he was trying to get this book called "Ojo" completed, because he planned to use the comic as the script, not only for the actors, but set designers, cameramen, etc etc etc. The film was getting close to underway, and it was his top priority, followed immediately after this by the film. He said he wouldn't be able to even think about our project until Ojo was behind him.

Over the previous months, he had talked about his many difficulties with Ojo. He could never decide the style of art he wanted Alex to draw. He would tell Alex to draw in his own style, but then he'd see Alex's work in Alex's style, and change his mind, and Alex would draw in Sam's style. But finally Alex and Sam both were going so crazy, that Alex just told him, look, screw this. I'm going to draw in my own style.

He would talk about how frustrating it was trying to get Ojo made into a movie. He made the comparison that what I was going through as a comics creator, he was going through as a movie writer/producer/director. Even though he was a name in comics, in the movie industry, he was a nobody, and no one would look at his stuff, and it was costing him a lot of money, but he was just going to say fuck it, and do it, and hope it didn't wind up being something he was embarrassed about. And maybe if he did an okay job, someone would see it, and then maybe they'd want to do something with him, and give him more money for the next one.

Sam was constantly frustrated that he had all these projects he wanted to do, but no comics companies had interest in him doing his personal projects. They all wanted him to do Wolverine or the Hulk or Spider-Man or Batman. So he would do one of these popular projects and make a lot of money, and that would get him the money he needed to do Zero Girl or Four Women or Ojo, which wouldn't make him any money. Or he would use the money toward getting his movie started.

And I began to learn that this is how a lot of people in the comics industry felt. I read an interview where Jaime Hernandez was saying the exact same thing. He's told the stories he wants to tell, but the cost literal, in that he knows he hasn't been making that much.

Every now and then Sam would call and mention more ideas with a potential story he might like me to draw, and complain more about Ojo.

He was on the fence between giving me one of two stories. One was about a middle-aged man who had a boring, dismal life. He hated his wife, he hated his job. So then a gorgeous bimbo began appearing, who turned out to be his invisible friend, and she would entertain, enliven, and serve him any way he wanted. Sam said he imagined a sort of dark, film-noir style.

Then he would change his mind and talk about a different story he thought I should draw instead, about a psychiatrist who's having sexual relationships with six or seven of his clients. We talked about different art styles, and Sam says, The more I think about this, the more I want the drawings to be so simplistic they're practically stick figures. And he's laughing that this could be my break-out into comics, and could ruin my career as an artist, because everyone would think my shitty little drawings aren't worth a shit.

And he keeps going back and forth. No, maybe you'd enjoy doing the other story better. No, maybe the other one is better. He'd ask what I think, and I'd keep telling him, I don't give a shit WHAT we do, I'd just love to be doing a comic.

30. A COUPLE MORE ARTISTS AT SAN DIEGO 2003

Bruce Timm

Just wandering around, I accidentally stumbled onto a sign at a booth that said Bruce Timm would be signing at a specific hour on a specific day. I put that down on my chart of all the artists I wanted to find, and the time and place I could find him, to be sure I could try and get a chance to show him my Kirby-style monster stuff. I thought for sure he would be one artist who would appreciate my Doris Danger stories, because he's such a great Kirby-style artist.

We noticed early on that a line was beginning to form, and wound up waiting in line for an hour or so before we got to the action. This Bruce Timm line was actually for the Justice League cartoon, so it also had all the voice actors. We didn't really know any of them, although it turned out we recognized one from a Friends episode, and later realized another was Sidney's sidekick in Alias.

Got to Bruce Timm and showed him the copies of the Doris Danger stories. He didn't seem interested that Dick Ayers had inked them. He didn't seem interested at all, and just kind of carelessly flipped through them. I asked about a pin-up, to which he flatly replied no, and we were rushed the rest of the way through the line, and that was that. I felt so intimidated by him.

Bill Sienkiewicz

Spent a little time with Bill Sienkiewicz, who said he would do a pin-up. Watched him draw sketches for a few people. He would use pictures he drew in his own book as reference for sketches he would draw in the books. He had ink, brushes, pens, and weird dental tools that he dipped in the ink. He had a pinwheel-type device that he would roll over the art to leave scratchy lines. Really interesting working style, how he gets all his textures and line qualities.

I had asked Bill whatever happened with his "Numbers" series with Alan Moore. Two of my favorites on one book together. I had enjoyed the first couple issues, and nothing came after that. When I asked Bill, he raised his voice like he might get upset if I kept bugging him about the subject, and basically clammed up. He was not going to go there, he said. He made it very clear he wasn't getting into that story with me, or anyone.

When I asked about a pin-up, he said he was doing commissions right then, at that very moment. I went to a bank teller and got some cash, and then I tried to write up a little hand receipt/waiver. I've always had everyone I get a pin-up from sign it, unless they don't charge me for the pin-up. I always ask that I have permission to publish it, permission to keep it (if I can afford it), permission to use their name for advertising or marketing or press releases, and that they don't expect any royalties or additional payments. I'm sure some artists have thought I'm an asshole to make them sign something, but in twenty years it will cover them as well as me, because we both know how I intend to use their pin-up.

By the time I got the money together, and had my contract/waiver/receipt, it was getting later in the day, and he said he might not be able to get to it today, but to check back in with him later. We checked later in the day, and he was gone. We went the next day, and he never turned up.

Over the next few months, I emailed Bill, and finally called him. I was honestly beginning to feel a little nervous, knowing I'd given him a sizeable wad of cash. While leaving a message on his answering machine like this, "Bill, I'm beginning to get a little concerned, because I haven't heard from you," he picked up, and assured me he would have it to me within a week or two. Maybe a month later he contacted me to say it was finished, and he'd send it to me priority, and I'd get it in a few days. Maybe a few weeks after that it finally came in the mail. What a crazy monster he sent me.

Mike Mignola

After last year, seeing such a line for Mike Mignola, and him not even taking one and a half seconds to sign a comic for me if I held it out and handed him a pen, I felt like Mike must be such a big wig, he's pretty unapproachable. I constantly poked around at the Darkhorse booth, hoping he might pop by to talk to editors or something. I never saw him, and finally asked if there were any autograph times he had scheduled. They told me I had just missed him (GODDAMN THE LUCK!). They said they thought he did have a signing the next day. But then they let me in on a shocking secret. They said he had a table all weekend, and I could just go over and meet him there any time. I was shocked. He wasn't listed in the catalogue. You mean he's not unapproachable? I had him all wrong. So all this time that I thought he'd been totally unapproachable, he'd actually been TOTALLY approachable. He's just approachable in SECRET. On the sly. Only to those in the know.

I went directly over to where they said, and there he was, just sitting there by himself, and no one even knew he was there. There was maybe one person in line. I walked right up and had the opportunity to tell him how I loved his stories. I sputtered how great I thought his art is, and how much I enjoyed his stories' subject matter. I showed him the photocopies of my Doris Danger stuff, and he took a copy, but didn't really look over it. I asked if he did any sketches, and he said he usually brings some nice sketches that cost money, but he'd do a quick Hellboy sketch. I was so shocked, I immediately found Elizabeth (She was waiting in line for me to meet Bruce Timm), and asked her to get another sketch for me.

Later, I went over to Dave Stevens' table, and Mike was over there talking about his upcoming Hellboy movie. He was saying, even though Guillermo del Toro was great, he still ran across the occasional studio-red-tape-pains-in-the-ass-bullshit. He was saying, "Well YOU know how it is (to Dave, who knew, because he had to go through it all way back when a Rocketeer film was made) when you get these Hollywood guys involved. There was this one exec, and he just didn't get it. And he kept saying things like, What if he's a person, but he turns into Hellboy when he gets mad?" And things like that. He was obviously seeing the frustrations of having to let a bunch of morons with no artistic vision or understanding put their hands in the pot and try to ruin everything with their god-awful formulas and cliches of what they think a movie should do. He obviously was having to fight to keep the character and the integrity of his creation.

* * *

That year, we got kind of burnt out on waiting in lines to meet artists. We spent hours in each line, for Frank Miller, Matt Groening, Bruce Timm, and next thing we knew, the convention was over. It didn't help that due to our hotel problems, we had to go home a day early. It felt like we weren't able to be quite as productive as we'd been previously. But we were pretty exhausted anyways, and on the other hand we met some of the cream of the crop of my idols in the industry.

But I was realizing, it's a lot more productive, if you can just find where these artists are hanging out, and meet them that way, rather than take all this time waiting in line for the same people. That was a valuable lesson, and I haven't really waited in line to meet people much since then, unless I can't find another way to get to them.

This con, even though I of course didn't get artists saying, "Man I'd love to do a pin-up," and even though a number of artists said they weren't interested, the potential for pin-ups was really starting to come together, and I was starting to amass some great potential for the self-publishing of my book.

29. HUNTING DOWN ARTISTS AT SAN DIEGO 2003

This year, I had a full issue of "Tabloia," not printed, but in Xerox-form, to show around. It contained the first chapters of The Lump, Dick Hammer, Dr. DeBunko, and Doris Danger. I also had an additional couple of Doris Danger, Dick Hammer, and Dr. DeBunko stories. As a game plan this year, I decided to make the Doris Danger stories my feature to share with artists. I thought that would be easiest to pitch quickly, and thought they might enjoy them better than my other junk.

I immediately stumbled onto Eddie Campbell, and flipped through his original art. I told him about showing him my art the year before. The previous year, he had told me he'd definitely remember me, because my art had a unique style, but he didn't remember me. I told him he'd published a letter I sent him in his EgoMania comic, and he didn't remember the letter. I showed him my Dick Ayers-inked monster stories, and he was amused, but had no interest in doing a pin-up. I didn't expect he would, because I'd asked him about doing a pin-up the year before, and he wasn't interested then.

We waited in line for hours, and got to meet Frank Miller AND Neil Gaiman at the same time. I gave both of them packets, containing my full issue of Tabloia. Who knows if they read them, glanced through them, or just left them at the signing table. I never heard from either of them, and began to realize, once this convention was over, that there doesn't seem to be much point in giving writers copies, unless they actually ask for them, which I don't think they ever do.

I had brought a Sandman #1 for Neil to sign. It had, I thought, signatures by Sam Kieth and Alan Dringenberg. Turns out, the signature that looked like "Sam Kieth" actually said "Neil Gaiman." Neil was kind enough to sign it a second time, then draw an arrow to the first signature, to show what it was supposed to say.

I told Frank I really appreciated him keeping film noir in comics. He gave me a sly smile and said, "I'm just getting started."

Tim Bradstreet was in artists alley again. I showed him my monster pages, and he thought they were fun. I couldn't believe it; I asked about a pin-up commission, and he just wrote his email on my notebook for me.

Tim Sale was in artists alley too, and he seemed to like the monster stuff. I told him I knew he was exclusive with DC, but he said he should still be able to do a monster pin-up, if he could only find time. He gave me his email too.

I found the Hernandez Brothers. After my pitch, they all said maybe they would do a pin-up. I can't believe it!

So now I'm beginning to realize the power of having Dick Ayers inking the monster stories. I'm watching the artists as I make my pitch. "Hi, I was hoping I could show you a project I'm working on. I'm drawing Kirby-style giant monster stories." Usually they don't look up, and they're busy with something on their table, or talking to someone behind the table. "I actually managed to get Dick Ayers to ink them for me." Really? They perk up. All of a sudden they're actually looking at the artwork now. Amazing. What a powerful tool. All of a sudden, maybe they wouldn't mind thinking about doing a pin-up. Even though I approached a bunch of these exact same artists the year before, and none of them had been interested then. All of a sudden I'm getting their contact information.

An original art dealer represents Michael Lark and Tim Bradstreet, and I see both of them over at this booth. I had found Michael Lark's email online, and had written him a few times. I absolutely loved his sideways-format Batman Nine Lives book. I just thought it was gorgeous. He wrote me back a little about film noir. I had sent a few emails asking about a pin-up from him, but he wasn't interested, and mentioned he was exclusive for DC now. I wondered if I'd gotten on his nerves with my perhaps-too-pushy-emails. I always feel anxiety when I send out emails and don't hear back. Did I say something offensive? Are they mad at me?

Meeting him at the convention, I told him I was the guy who bugged him about a commission, and he said, Oh, You're THAT guy. It made me wonder if I HAD done something that got on his nerves, but I was sure to be very friendly, and I didn't seem to get on his nerves in person.

He said it wasn't so much that he was exclusive as that he just didn't have time to do a pin-up. I showed him the monster stories, and he asked for copies. After the con, he emailed me what a hoot he thought my stories were. He said I had a pretty crazy sense of humor.

Over at this booth, Tim Bradstreet said, "Oh, I want to go talk to Alex Maleev," and sure enough, there was Alex Maleev a few booths down. I went over, and he was drawing sketches. I tried to show him my monster stuff and ask about a pin-up, and he said to talk to his manager. His manager was running around, so I waited for a few minutes. Finally his manager came up to me and said, You want a sketch? I said sure. Of what? How about Daredevil. He said, a hundred bucks. So I tried to make my pitch about the monster book, and might Alex do a pin-up for me, and the guy said to send him an email. I tried contacting him a few times, but never heard back.

I found Neal Adams. He said that since he's got a whole studio of artists working for him, his pin-up would be too expensive for me to afford a pin-up. However, he said sometimes...sometimes...they'll do something small for a project like this, and I should contact his son. He sent me on my way, and told me to say hi to Dick. I wouldn't find out until years later, when I read about it in Dick's autobiography, that Neal basically got Dick work at DC, when Dick had been basically blacklisted by the industry, on account of feeling he should be paid by Marvel when Marvel reprinted his work. This was in the seventies. Marvel had cut back the amount of work they gave Dick, and therefore they cut back what they were paying him, because he was paid by the page. Then they reprinted old stories Dick had drawn, and didn't pay royalties for republishing rights.

I found Berni Wrightson, who was laughing loudly at all my Kirby-style stories. He was reading the dialogue out loud and laughing. When I asked about contributing a pin-up, he said, he didn't do that kind of work. I kind of expected as much, but was so excited that he enjoyed them, I didn't care.

We sat briefly in on a Grant Morrison panel. It was a huge room and packed. He was going to be finishing up his X-Men run, and signing a new exclusive with DC. He said it was in his contract that he would do some mainstream books for them, but they would guarantee him a certain number of personal, non-superhero, bound-to-be-less popular books as well. He was asked about artists he'd like to work with in the future, and he listed JH Williams. I immediately ran downstairs to tell JH Williams. I thought that was high praise indeed. We hung around after, where he kindly stood and spoke to everyone who waited, for some time. When I got to the front of his line, I showed him my monster stories, and gracious as ever, he took a copy and thanked me. He signed a hardcover of his Batman Arkham Asylum.

Then I rushed downstairs to JH Williams to tell him that Grant announced he wanted to work with him.

We went to a Dave McKean talk, where he kind of made fun of superhero comics, specifically in reference to the Batman Arkham book. We later found the booth he was hanging out at, and I got him to sign the same book, and he drew a quick Batman sketch. He looked over the monster stories. Laughed (or winced?) at the "Eiffel Terror" gag of the Paris story. Said he wasn't interested in doing any kind of monster pin-up, even a quick sketch.

I was really intimidated to meet Michael Kaluta. It seemed like he had long lines the whole week, but then one day I walked over and he was just there by himself. He was so good at putting a nervous little comics nerd at ease. So friendly and funny. And I got his contact info.

We went to the Bongo Comics booth to find out about Matt Groening's signing. They had a mob scene of people, waiting to be handed tickets for the signing. People were shouting and pushing, and then security had to come and funnel people around. Somehow I wound up in the flow of traffic, and got spit out of the booth with a ticket in my hand. The funny thing was, as we left the booth, there was Matt Groening, so we went up to him and snapped a picture with him. Elizabeth talked with him about how crazy the scene was. And he seemed really shocked and humble that everyone would want to get his autograph so badly.

These were some of the quick, fly-by-night, catch-a-glimpse exchanges at the con. Next time, I'll talk about a couple bigger, more in-depth ones.

28. SAN DIEGO COMIC-CON 2003

This was my third year going to the amazing San Diego Con. Getting prepared, I wasn't nearly as excited or anxious as I had been the first couple times. I knew basically how it worked now, and what I could expect, and generally what would be going on all week. I had seen it all, twice. I had done portfolio reviews. I had listened to presentations. I'd begun to meet some artists. This time, I wasn't up for doing most of that stuff anymore, and I didn't know what would be left to do. I didn't know what I wanted to accomplish by being there.

I had committed myself to the idea of self-publishing by now, so I didn't have any intention of waiting in portfolio review lines this year. I thought I could show my work to artists and try to get some more pin-ups. I'd already gotten a few. I'd gotten one in the mail from Thomas Yeates that actually took my breath away, when I got it in the mail and opened the package. So this year, at the con, I just planned to go with the flow and see what happened.

I had visited the website beforehand, and I wasn't particularly excited by the list of special guests. And the website didn't list all the professionals who would be attending, the way the Wondercon website had done. SO I wondered just how many other artists would be there at all this year.

I kind of figured maybe there would be a few people who weren't listed, but I should have had more faith. Every year, people told me, everyone just kind of shows up at San Diego. You'll just be walking around the con, and realize someone's hanging out at a booth. But for some reason, I just didn't think it would be the case this year, for some reason.

THE HOTEL

We flew down and got to the hotel, and realized, for the second year out of three, there were problems. And never mind that the two years we had problems, I was the one who'd made the reservation plans (not my wife). The hotel didn't have any record of our reservation. They said they could squeeze us in somewhere for Thursday and Friday night, but couldn't guarantee Saturday. By Saturday, we were pretty exhausted and felt we'd done enough that we could call the trip a success, so we found an early flight home, and left early. It turned out the hotel had managed to fit us in that next night, but it was too late, so we thanked them for their efforts, apologized and left early.

Having checked in, we walked through town. It was afternoon, and we should have eaten a few hours ago, and our blood sugar levels were getting low. But that's when I thought, we should probably pop over to the convention, just to pick up a schedule of events and see exactly what was happening this year, and who would be there. We needed to eat, but Elizabeth agreed to grab a bite at the con, because I was suddenly starting to get manic now.

So we got in, and Elizabeth grabbed some so-so food at the food court and sat down and started eating. And I started flipping through the schedule and realizing, every page I turned, how many artists would be there that I hadn't expected. And Elizabeth is trying to calm me down, as my voice is getting higher with each shocked, foul exclamation and new artist's name I scream out with glee. All of a sudden, I couldn't eat. I had to start running around all over the place and looking for all these artists. I forced down a couple bites that my body was too amped to appreciate, and got moving. Elizabeth let me go, because she could see what a spazz I'd become.

I remember each night, in the hotel room, staying up late, studying the program lists to try and figure out exactly where everyone would be and when. Making a game plan, and so excited about it. Hoping I could coordinate everything so I could try and meet everyone I would like to meet. Elizabeth would fall asleep, while I'm still sitting up in bed with the light on, cross-referencing comics panels and autograph signing times and artist alley locations and what booths would be featuring what artists and when. I'm making charts and graphs of all my schedules. Finally turning off the light, and not being able to get any sleep. As the week wore on, feeling more and more out of reality, my increasingly sleepless state and constantly kicking adrenaline making me light-headed and spaced-out.

27. SAM'S ARTISTIC ADVICE

Having access to Sam through email or phone, I wanted him to see the work I'm doing, and get his opinions and advice. I sent him some pages I'm working on, and at one point during all this, he calls to talk about my art. Of course I'm pestering him and trying to get a monster pin-up from him, all this time, and he says, okay, I'll draw you a monster. But he's busy this week making this deadline, and maybe next week. But when the next week comes he's going to be busy for another month, but he definitely wants to do it. And so the weeks drag on like this. One day he finally says, "I know, I know, I telling you I'll do it, and then I setting it back. I'll just have to sit down and do it." He promises he'll draw me an Easter Island Monster.

He said it a couple times, this Easter Island business. I realize after finally inquiring, he plans to draw the many-headed Easter Island monster I drew in the second Doris Danger story, which I had sent him a copy of. And I tell him, No, no, draw your own monster. I don't want you to copy my monsters. And like I tell everyone, I have to explain that I don't want him to draw in Kirby's style. I want him to draw in his own style. So he says he'll come up with something.

Regarding my own work, he says he enjoys it, but that I've got to build more confidence in my line work. He's giving me this advice because he's thinking that I'm going to be drawing one of his books, and he wants to make sure the art looks okay. This is the only advice I remember him giving me about actually drawing. He said when you do enough lines, you can just draw them, swoosh, and they're nice and smooth. He said, You know what you need to do, is just take a piece of paper, and just go from one end to the other, and just draw lines. Fill the page with lines. Just keep drawing lines, so you're not so worried about them. If you worry about drawing them while you're drawing them, they'll be imperfect, and shaky. You can see the worry in the lines. That's good advice, but of course it's always hard to hear when people pick out and nail exactly what your weaknesses are, because it makes you realize, yep, not only do I have weaknesses and I know these are my weaknesses, but people can pick out my weaknesses.

Sam talks a little about how he got into the industry. He really wanted to get into comics, and finally he and his wife worked out that she would work and he would stay home and draw, and they'd have enough money for him to really give it his all for maybe a year or two? And he was able to land work.

He told me his earliest paying gig was doing the inks for Matt Wagner's Mage. And Matt would send him these pencils that were so simple and sparse. And Sam always wanted to spice them up, and add shading and cross-hatching. But it hit him one day, that everything Matt needed to convey was already in those simple pencils. Sam often wishes he could pair his art down to those essentials. Simplify. Clean. Now it's a skill he really admires.

In the early days, when he was still learning and honing his craft, he would take a page, and if there was an area of black, he wouldn't just cover it all over with black ink. Instead, he would practice drawing his lines, practice his control. He would draw lines over the area, then cross-hatch over the first layer of lines, then again and again and again, until the area was completely blacked out. So he was takking a lot of time to fill in the black areas, but he was getting experience and practice, and really learning his control for his lines.

After Sam had called me that night, I really wanted to do some inking exercises and get better. I knew my linework was pretty unsteady and I didn't have a lot of control, but I tried to go with it, and just make that a part of the artwork. Now, with Sam calling me on it, I realized I'd better do something about it.

I had just bought an inking book from Steve Rude, called "The Art of Comic-Book Inking." It was by one of his inkers, Gary Martin. To be honest, at that time, I couldn't have cared less about inking comics. I bought it because it was a Steve Rude book, and I had bought it from the artist.

But now that Sam was giving me inking advice, I pulled it out and read it. Overall I enjoyed the book. BUT...I REALLY enjoyed two things in it. First, it had some GREAT inkers, all inking the same page, so that you could compare how different inkers tackle the same problems, and what they come up with. I'm talking GREAT inkers. Dave Stevens, Brian Bolland, Tom Palmer, Terry Austin, P. Craig Russell, Kevin Nowlan You could see the different inking techniques each one fell into, the styles of cross-hatching or shading. I loved looking at these, and just studying the minute differences. What a comic-nerdy thing to do.

The other thing I thought was great was that it had a couple pages of inking exercises. So when Sam told me to practice lines, I broke out this book and immediately started practicing my inking exercises. And they put me to shame. Doing the exercises really makes you see how bad you are, and how much you need to practice.

But I practiced my exercises every time I picked up a brush. I would take a piece of paper and fill it with lines before I moved on to my work. I did it for maybe a few weeks, and sure enough, I saw leaps and bounds in the improvement of my control. It made me proud, looking at the jump in quality I saw in my art.

26. APE-CON 2003

Looking back in retrospect, I've been racking my brain trying to remember something about this convention. All the other cons, I can usually remember what work I had done at that time, and that sparks who I showed that particular work to, and reminds me of some experiences or incidents or something. But this con, I've drawn an absolute blank.

I just realized, I think I do remember this con. I went down with a friend, and wasn't really expecting anything this year. Even though I brought some samples, I kind of knew I wouldn't show anything to anyone, because I knew by now I was going to self-publish. I just wandered around, and I didn't really feel like looking at anything. I wasn't really interested in any of the work or artists. I found myself just observing the scene of this particular con. I just spent the day thinking, I don't really belong here. The work is too indie for me. It made me realize, I don't know where my work belongs.

I saw some art that I liked, but the artists there weren't getting any attention. I was afraid to go up to them as well, because you can just feel how badly they want you to come up to them and buy their books, and I knew I wasn't planning to do that, and if I went over, I might get pressured to feel like I had to buy something. It's so awkward and uncomfortable. And you think, these poor people spent a lot of money to get a table here, and they spent a lot of money to publish their books, and they just want to break even, and how few of them are able to do that? How is it, year after year, that these cons are able to get a roomful of people who think they have a product that could actually get them their money back? Because each time, a bunch of the previous year's people learned their lesson and got so humiliated you know they gave up on their comic book dream and didn't come back again. But the next year all the tables have been sold and filled again, with rows full of new hopefuls. How can this industry generate so much hope every year, with such crushing defeat and financial ruin each year before?

This was my negative attitude that year. Was I dreading joining the legion of hopefuls, and feeling insecure about my upcoming attempts on the battlefield?

I don't belong in the mainstream superhero realm of comics, obviously. I'm not drawing superheroes, and my stories are strange. But I don't belong in the hip, photo-copies and hand-made and hand-stapled, or sewn and bound with thread, or beautifully and creatively one-of-a-kind manufactured, or purposely crazy-shitty-out-of-control-drugs induced-looking products of the indie conventions either.

There's always a ton of gorgeous, hand-crafted, one-of-a-kind types of artworks at APE. A huge variety of amazing, strange, funny, sweet, personal, intimate, sad, beautiful works of art. And a lot of talented comics artists. Like every con, there are some great artists, and there are some so-so ones, and of course it all just depends on your tastes. And they're all just trying to do their thing and putting themselves out there, and they all took the time to do their best and make a product they believed in. But this year, I was in a bad mood, and so I didn't appreciate all the amazing, creative artwork going on.

I felt like I would fit in DC's Vertigo line, maybe, but I've sent them packages, and they haven't even bothered to send a form letter back to me. I felt like I could fit in the Darkhorse realm, but editors looked at my stuff, and even if they were kind enough in person, and gave me their cards, they didn't write back, and seemed overall maybe interested in being polite to me, but not in pursuing possibilities for work.

So if I self-publish, how do I market myself? I could get a table at this con, and maybe people would think the quality of my art and packaging would look much better (or at least more streamlined/professional) than everyone else's stuff here, but couldn't that just work against me? Might people come to this convention because they don't want stuff that looks polished and factory-printed? For my own product, I would WANT to have professionally made comics by a professional printer. I would WANT glossy covers with slick images. My artwork may not be good enough to be mainstream, and my subject matter may not be, and I may still be learning and improving, but I do decent work, don't I? I didn't feel like anyone at APE would be interested in my stories about mad scientists and private detectives. That's too mainstream too.

So I'm not mainstream enough to get into the mainstream, and I'm not indie enough to feel like I belong at the indies. So how am I going to market my product? That's a question I still haven't solved.

So I just kind of wandered around this con and felt pessimistic, like I just didn't really know of a place I belonged. And feeling like here, I definitely didn't belong.

25. WONDERCON April 25-27 2003

Looking back, all these cons begin to blur together. I'm pretty sure this is the year, following my tremendous fun and successes at the San Diego Con, that I began getting excited about meeting artists and trying to get more pin-ups. Before the con, the Wondercon website listed all the featured artists, and I remember I really studied every page posted, and tried to analyze and strategize to see exactly who would be where and when. The site listed all the featured guests on one page, and then all the artists alley people on a different page, all the signings, all the booths. But for some reason it also listed every comics professional who'd bought a ticket to attend. I remember getting really excited to see Bruce Timm in this secret area of listed people. I even went so far as to look him up at other websites, to try and find a picture of him, so that I would recognize him walking around. I found a picture, but it turns out, it didn't help me. And I mean it REALLY didn't help me.

Joe Kubert, Dave Gibbons, and Jim Lee were listed as extra special guests.

I walked by the DC booth right as I walked in, I did ask if they knew where Bruce Timm was. They told me they just saw him, but that he probably wouldn't be hanging out at the DC booth, but that he was definitely around.

I saw Sergio Aragones there, and the more I thought about it, the more excited I got about wanting a pin-up from him. His comics were quite pivotal to me, growing up. I loved his Groo stories, and really enjoyed his Mad "Between the margins" books. I approached him, showed him the stories inked by Dick Ayers, and asked about a pin-up. He didn't look that closely. He just said, Oh, he thought maybe I just wanted a quick sketch or something. He told me to come back to him after I'd put a few issues out, maybe in a year or so. He didn't like to do pin-ups for artists until he'd had a chance to kind of see their published work, see that they were serious. The reality is, a lot of artists show up for a while, all full of gumption, and then are never heard from again. I guess he'd been around the block enough times that if he did a pin-up for someone, he wanted to make sure either the artist's work was all right, or that the artist would have a little lasting power.

I shyly approached Thomas Yeates, and showed him my Dick Ayers-inked stories and asked for a pin-up. He was very easy to approach, and he said it sounded fun. Howard Chaykin was sitting with him and talking a lot, but his badge was facing backwards. I recognized him though, so I said to him, "Are you here under cover?" I realized I should have said, "Are you here under cover, Howard?" He just replied, No, I'm here as me. I'm always here as me. Then he walked away.

I got his attention a little later. I was feeling bold, since it had been so easy to approach Thomas. I asked Howard if he does commissions, and he said, No, absolutely not, never, and turned his back on me. I was especially embarrassed, because it happened in front of Thomas, who politely tried to act like he didn't notice I was snubbed.

Met Jill Thompson, and thought she was a real cool gal. Very friendly and approachable and talkative. Said she'd enjoy doing a monster pin-up, and to email her. Said she'd definitely remember me, because no one had ever asked her for a commission of a giant monster. Strangely, I emailed both her and her website, and never heard back from her.

She talked a little about going to art school. Her school specialized in illustration, and there was a rival art school nearby. I could tell the rival school and its "artsy" attitude got on her nerves. She talked about their foo-foo morals and principles derogatorily, and said she always went to school with the intention of getting work. And she got out of school and started working, and pointed out how all these "artists" were such snobs about the kind of work they would produce, but now they're all still poor and not working.

I approached Dave Stevens and showed him my copies of stories and pin-ups. I think he really enjoyed them. I was intimidated to ask him about doing a pin-up, and when I did, he said he's way too busy. But he was polite and friendly about it.

Waited in line for a Travis Charest sketch of Wolverine. Asked him about pin-ups, and he said he works way too slow, and can barely get his scheduled work finished on his deadlines. Aw shucks!

Russ Heath was there, so they set up a double-signing "war comics" theme with him and Joe Kubert. I saw where they set up, but it was such a big line, I kept waiting and hoping the line would die down. It finally died down, and I realized they had capped it. They weren't letting anyone else wait. So I kept an eye on it anyways, just to see if Joe Kubert was going anywhere afterwards. He got up, shook hands with the gang, and left. I shamelessly stalked him, just to see if he was going to go hang out at a booth somewhere, but he just walked right out of the con. So I missed my chance to meet him.

Jim Lee and Dave Gibbons had really big lines too, so I didn't bother with waiting for them either. But I didn't try to stalk them afterwards either.

Lastly, I found an original art dealer who had tons of Jae Lee and Bruce Timm art. I was hoping one of those artists might turn up (although Mister Lee wasn't listed anywhere to make an appearance), so I poked around. Flipping through the Bruce Timm folders, a tall, red-headed, skinny fellow with glasses kind of poked around at the folder I was holding, making an almost clownish scene as if he wanted to look at the folder I was looking at. I asked if he wanted to flip through, and he said, "No, no, you go ahead." Someone who turned out to be in charge of the booth was kind of smiling at a secret joke and shaking his head at this guy. I moved on and looked at Jae Lee art, and the tall guy lost interest in me.

Of course it's obvious where this story is going. After the con I told a friend I was disappointed I didn't ever find Bruce Timm, and he said, "Oh, I saw him doing sketches at that original art booth." Click. It all came together. When I was looking at Bruce Timm original artwork, Bruce Timm himself was the one who had come over, and I could have visited with him, fawned over him, looked at his art with him and maybe gotten a sketch. He was acting so playful and silly and approachable. I'm sure we would have become best friends. But I was so clueless, I just screwed that golden opportunity.

I wound up feeling really disappointed that I had actually been jibed by Bruce Timm and didn't realize it.

24. GETTING ANOTHER PIN-UP

My experience with Gene Colan was a perfect lesson in what NOT to do, when trying to get a pin-up from one of your idols, or what TO do, if you want to annoy the hell out of them and make them hate you, and feel ashamed of yourself.

I found his website online. He was one of the first artists I looked for. I sent him a letter about how much I loved his art, and how great I thought it was he was accessible online. He sent a very brief thank-you-very-much type of note.

At this stage I was new at the whole email thing. In fact, I was new at the whole computer thing. I had had an eighties model, which I used just as a word processor. But when I met (my wife) Elizabeth, she introduced me to the internet, and to emails.

But as I say, I was new to email etiquette. I would write pages and pages. I suspect most people would read a sentence or so, and then get bored or irritated and delete the letter without finishing it. At least, that's what I would have done. But I didn't know this at the time, because I hadn't gotten any emails yet, so I just kept writing. I also didn't have any experience trying to get pin-ups from artists. So my strategy was this. I'd write a long, annoying introductory letter, and I wouldn't ask about the pin-up. I would just say hello and I love you so much. Then I would wait and see if I got a response before bothering to put myself on the line and ask for a pin-up. I guess I thought this technique would strengthen their bond to me somehow, and make them like me so much, that when I wrote a second time, they'd not only remember me, but also see what a nice and polite guy I was, and then they'd want to do the pin-up. As if they wouldn't have done it if I just asked the first time. So after receiving the very brief and appreciative thank-you from Gene, I wrote again, telling him about the book I was doing, sending some samples of the monster pages Dick Ayers inked, and asked if he would do a pin-up I could publish.

I told him if he wasn't really interested in drawing a monster, he could just include a hint of one. I thought maybe he could do a deserted spooky street, with a monster peeking into an alley, or a giant shadow falling over someone, or a graveyard, with a giant foot stomping down. But something moody, since he's so good with that gothic horror atmosphere.

This email got another brief reply. This time it was from his wife. She named a price which I found extremely high, but which in retrospect was a fair price for his work, considering what he had planned to do for that money.

I wrote another way-too-long letter, saying I assumed the price was for an 11"x17", the standard size for a comics page. I asked if he might be able to do something smaller, or less detailed, for cheaper. I went on and on about possibilities.

Another brie reply from his wife. She said that he works very hard, and if he skimped on quality, neither of us would be happy with the result. But she also said that he had planned to do a "22x28" piece (Holy Christ! That would have been HUGE!) He would do an 11"x17" for half the original price. At the time, I thought it was still expensive (although I've since learned that a number of artists charge this much), but closer to a ballpark that I could afford.

So I wrote again, to make sure he was okay with my usual requests, for that price. Me keeping the work, me advertising to publish the piece, me publishing the piece, and him not expecting royalties or additional payments.

His wife wrote back again, and I interpreted the letter that she seemed pretty upset. It was a brief, terse letter. She said, absolutely not, forget the whole deal, basically. I wrote back yet another long letter, explaining that it wasn't my intention to upset or short them. I asked what she had issue with specifically.

She wrote back her complaints, sounding moderately less upset than the previous letter, but still with a bit of an edge. I had the feeling she thought that "permission to publish the pin-up" meant I had full rights to take advantage and make t-shirts and posters and make a fortune off this image he would send me, and he works hard and the industry is always taking advantage and I was another back-stabbing no-good... That kind of thing. And honestly I can't blame her. He's had a long career, and it's a tough industry, and I'm sure people have tried to take advantage. I think a lot of the classic artists, especially, weren't taken very good care of by the big companies. But on the other hand, it was getting a little grating one me. I just wanted a pin-up from one of my idols, and it wasn't my intention to take advantage. I'm also wondering why I stopped getting emails from Gene.

I wrote back again."Look, phrase it however you want so that I'm not taking advantage. I just want to publish it in my book." I gave samples of how we could re-phrase it to her liking. A way-too-long, blow-by-blow explanation of my stance, full of descriptions, apologies, and suggestions for resolving our differences. But if she didn't want to agree to something, I would selfishly ask for something else instead. That didn't help.

I really wanted a pin-up from him, and the more she protested about this or that, the more I wanted it. It was getting exhausting making all these negotiations. We finally got to a near complete agreement, except that she asked, if I sell over 25,000 copies, that I send Gene an additional payment.

I hadn't yet published a comic, so I thought, "Well maybe I will sell 25,000 books" (what a naive moron I was...). And at first glance, I thought, well if I could sell that many, I guess I could pay him some extra. That seems reasonable. But it made me sit down and think, and try and really calculate costs of publishing for the first time. And the farther I got into the calculations, the more I realized I couldn't hope to even break even, even if I did sell that many books. That's pretty unbelievable, when you think about it.

So then I thought, Sure, I'd like to keep the art, but I'm paying him a lot of money. More than the industry's page rate. I'm a new and unknown comics guy, and I'm taking a chance here, and putting up all the money to pay him the price he's asking, and then I have to pay all the money to get the book in print too. So all the risk and cost isl on me, and there's no risk to him, because he knows he's getting paid what he asks for a pre-specified job. But if for some crazy reason the book were successful, I should see the benefit of that, because I'm the one completely at risk (I felt). The only risk he has to take is that he won't get paid more than he asked to get paid, whether the book is successful or not.

I started writing out all the things that were going to cost me. Printing. Advertising. All the Dick Ayers inks. The other pin-ups I'd gotten. I realized, if I DID sell 25,000 books, I might break even, but WITHOUT GETTING A CENT FOR MYSELF. So next thing I knew, and to my horror, I had sent him a many-page description, in explicit detail, of all these figures, and why I didn't think I should have to pay him royalties. I asked if he could please waive this request.

Looking back, it was so idiotic, because I only sold 600 copies of that first book. I missed his request by 24,500! I would have had to have sold OVER FORTY TIMES what I sold. There was absolutely no danger, ABSOLUTELY, of having to worry about this request. But I did it for principle.

I got a letter back from them that was so funny and so simple, it made me ashamed. It said, Fine, he'll do the pin-up. Don't send any more emails. And then it said, "Seriously." How embarrassing. How humiliating.

Once the money was sent, I found a message on my answering machine from Gene in New York! He just wanted to check on the composition he had in mind for my pin-up. I was so excited, I saved the message special to play for my wife. I was trying to figure out a way I could record a copy and save it for my personal records. At this time, I was saving the envelopes artists sent me their pin-ups in, because it had their names in their handwriting, and it was really cool to me to have these little pieces of their everyday lives.

I called him back, and it was a rush to speak with him on the phone. He was so polite and friendly. He made no mention of what a pain in his ass I was. He said he planned to graveyard with a kid in it, who's jumping back in shock, right as a giant foot stomps down at him. Sounds great, I said. Do whatever you like.

That day, when I got home from work to share the phone message with my wife, I went to the answering machine to play it for her, and the machine said there were no messages. I literally howled with anguish, and she came running out. I said, "There was a message on the machine I wanted to share with you!" I was crushed. She had seen a bunch of old messages on the machine and assumed they were all ones she had heard, so she deleted them without listening to them first. I couldn't believe it. I was in shock. I was devastated.

The pin-up came, and it was gorgeous. And it was still huge. Even though I'd asked for an 11"x17", it ended up being 14"x22!"

23. GETTING MY FIRST PIN-UP, AND FROM ONE OF MY FAVORITE ARTISTS, TOO!

I had just put myself in serious debt, and most anyone I told how thought that I was some moron. But by doing so, I had managed to convince one of my favorite artists to draw a pin-up that I could publish in my comic.

At this point, after meeting him a couple times, sharing my work, and exchanging some emails, maybe I felt that we were closer friends than we were (since we weren't friends at all). Isn't it interesting when you feel you know people like this so well, because you're so intimate with their work, and in some ways, you really do get to know them that way. But you're just a stranger to them. They don't know you at all.

But I was feeling cocky and sure. I had learned, in the process of buying his pages, that he was drawing his pages on 9"x12" paper. This is considerably smaller than the industry standard 11"x17". That's interesting, don't you think? I also deduced that the reason he had switched to this size was as a means of getting work out more regularly, so that he'd have more books under his belt for his fans to enjoy. I deduced this because he had told me at San Diego that he had been looking for ways to streamline his production. I also knew he'd seen Bruce Timm's original work, which was smaller, and which he found very impressive and awe-inspiring, to be able to encapsulate so much energy into such small pages.

So I posted a new public note on his message board, saying I knew that he worked small, and would he care to talk about why he worked this size. I knew he would see the post, and assumed he would be absolutely tickled by what I considered my wry little in-joke with him, and then write something interesting, to enlighten his fan base. The fans would enjoy the intimate, unique info, and I really was interested in learning about his creative process, and I thought everyone would get a kick out of it, all around.

My other posts to his message board, he had answered almost immediately. But this one never got a response. Finally I got a personal email from him saying the pin-up was done and he'd mail it. But as a side note, he asked that I please DO NOT talk about or publicly post his process of art-making.

I was really shocked. First of all, I didn't think it was a big deal if people knew he was working smaller. But mostly, I had just gotten scolded by one of my favorite artists in the industry. What a shameful feeling. It gave me a stomach-ache, and I couldn't stop worrying about it.

I wrote back and apologized profusely, and assured him I wouldn't do it anymore. I pointed out I didn't think asking about it was a big deal.

He responded, and made me feel much better. He said that he considers his comics a sort of magic-making, and he doesn't like to give away his "tricks." He likes to keep it magical for his readers. He admitted that if people ask the questions, he's happy to offer the information, he just doesn't like to ruin it for anyone who wouldn't want to know, or think to know. Fair enough.

His pin-up, along with all the original art, was the first pin-up I received. Getting the package in the mail felt like Christmas back in elementary school, when I still felt excited about things, When things were exciting and important. I opened it, and he had filled the box with Atomics notepads and stickers, and a Madman action figure, as well as a hardcover Madman gallery and some comics! What a package! I pulled out the art, and the pin-up was right on top, and it was gorgeous! I was surprised by the smaller size, but really pleased with the image. I couldn't believe he drew Madman in the pin-up. I thought to myself, my book is going to have Madman in it! Wow!

Soon after, Mike posted on his website that he was officially announcing his intention to try and sell artwork, but only full issues. He said as soon as he made the decision, one of his fans already bought a full issue, and I proudly realized that was me! What a celebrity I had become! So I was using him by buying his art to get a pin-up, and he was using me to show there was a demand for his artwork. Happy to oblige!

Last thing I want to mention is that, reading these posts, you may have noticed the irony, my writing about the size of his artwork and my promises not to do just that. Well a few months after what I call my "shaming," someone else publically asked about Mike's art process in an interview, and he went into great detail about how he works in a smaller size with a smaller brush, and he defies anyone to try and figure out which of his pages he did smaller, and which pages were larger. And this he unapologetically linked from his website. So he did it first!



24. GETTING ANOTHER PIN-UP


My experience with Gene Colan was a perfect lesson in what NOT to do, when trying to get a pin-up from one of your idols, or what TO do, if you want to annoy the hell out of them and make them hate you, and feel ashamed of yourself.

I found his website online. He was one of the first artists I looked for. I sent him a letter about how much I loved his art, and how great I thought it was he was accessible online. He sent a very brief thank-you-very-much type of note.

At this stage I was new at the whole email thing. In fact, I was new at the whole computer thing. I had had an eighties model, which I used just as a word processor. But when I met (my wife) Elizabeth, she introduced me to the internet, and to emails.

But as I say, I was new to email etiquette. I would write pages and pages. I suspect most people would read a sentence or so, and then get bored or irritated and delete the letter without finishing it. At least, that's what I would have done. But I didn't know this at the time, because I hadn't gotten any emails yet, so I just kept writing. I also didn't have any experience trying to get pin-ups from artists. So my strategy was this. I'd write a long, annoying introductory letter, and I wouldn't ask about the pin-up. I would just say hello and I love you so much. Then I would wait and see if I got a response before bothering to put myself on the line and ask for a pin-up. I guess I thought this technique would strengthen their bond to me somehow, and make them like me so much, that when I wrote a second time, they'd not only remember me, but also see what a nice and polite guy I was, and then they'd want to do the pin-up. As if they wouldn't have done it if I just asked the first time. So after receiving the very brief and appreciative thank-you from Gene, I wrote again, telling him about the book I was doing, sending some samples of the monster pages Dick Ayers inked, and asked if he would do a pin-up I could publish.

I told him if he wasn't really interested in drawing a monster, he could just include a hint of one. I thought maybe he could do a deserted spooky street, with a monster peeking into an alley, or a giant shadow falling over someone, or a graveyard, with a giant foot stomping down. But something moody, since he's so good with that gothic horror atmosphere.

This email got another brief reply. This time it was from his wife. She named a price which I found extremely high, but which in retrospect was a fair price for his work, considering what he had planned to do for that money.

I wrote another way-too-long letter, saying I assumed the price was for an 11"x17", the standard size for a comics page. I asked if he might be able to do something smaller, or less detailed, for cheaper. I went on and on about possibilities.

Another brie reply from his wife. She said that he works very hard, and if he skimped on quality, neither of us would be happy with the result. But she also said that he had planned to do a "22x28" piece (Holy Christ! That would have been HUGE!) He would do an 11"x17" for half the original price. At the time, I thought it was still expensive (although I've since learned that a number of artists charge this much), but closer to a ballpark that I could afford.

So I wrote again, to make sure he was okay with my usual requests, for that price. Me keeping the work, me advertising to publish the piece, me publishing the piece, and him not expecting royalties or additional payments.

His wife wrote back again, and I interpreted the letter that she seemed pretty upset. It was a brief, terse letter. She said, absolutely not, forget the whole deal, basically. I wrote back yet another long letter, explaining that it wasn't my intention to upset or short them. I asked what she had issue with specifically.

She wrote back her complaints, sounding moderately less upset than the previous letter, but still with a bit of an edge. I had the feeling she thought that "permission to publish the pin-up" meant I had full rights to take advantage and make t-shirts and posters and make a fortune off this image he would send me, and he works hard and the industry is always taking advantage and I was another back-stabbing no-good... That kind of thing. And honestly I can't blame her. He's had a long career, and it's a tough industry, and I'm sure people have tried to take advantage. I think a lot of the classic artists, especially, weren't taken very good care of by the big companies. But on the other hand, it was getting a little grating one me. I just wanted a pin-up from one of my idols, and it wasn't my intention to take advantage. I'm also wondering why I stopped getting emails from Gene.

I wrote back again."Look, phrase it however you want so that I'm not taking advantage. I just want to publish it in my book." I gave samples of how we could re-phrase it to her liking. A way-too-long, blow-by-blow explanation of my stance, full of descriptions, apologies, and suggestions for resolving our differences. But if she didn't want to agree to something, I would selfishly ask for something else instead. That didn't help.

I really wanted a pin-up from him, and the more she protested about this or that, the more I wanted it. It was getting exhausting making all these negotiations. We finally got to a near complete agreement, except that she asked, if I sell over 25,000 copies, that I send Gene an additional payment.

I hadn't yet published a comic, so I thought, "Well maybe I will sell 25,000 books" (what a naive moron I was...). And at first glance, I thought, well if I could sell that many, I guess I could pay him some extra. That seems reasonable. But it made me sit down and think, and try and really calculate costs of publishing for the first time. And the farther I got into the calculations, the more I realized I couldn't hope to even break even, even if I did sell that many books. That's pretty unbelievable, when you think about it.

So then I thought, Sure, I'd like to keep the art, but I'm paying him a lot of money. More than the industry's page rate. I'm a new and unknown comics guy, and I'm taking a chance here, and putting up all the money to pay him the price he's asking, and then I have to pay all the money to get the book in print too. So all the risk and cost isl on me, and there's no risk to him, because he knows he's getting paid what he asks for a pre-specified job. But if for some crazy reason the book were successful, I should see the benefit of that, because I'm the one completely at risk (I felt). The only risk he has to take is that he won't get paid more than he asked to get paid, whether the book is successful or not.

I started writing out all the things that were going to cost me. Printing. Advertising. All the Dick Ayers inks. The other pin-ups I'd gotten. I realized, if I DID sell 25,000 books, I might break even, but WITHOUT GETTING A CENT FOR MYSELF. So next thing I knew, and to my horror, I had sent him a many-page description, in explicit detail, of all these figures, and why I didn't think I should have to pay him royalties. I asked if he could please waive this request.

Looking back, it was so idiotic, because I only sold 600 copies of that first book. I missed his request by 24,500! I would have had to have sold OVER FORTY TIMES what I sold. There was absolutely no danger, ABSOLUTELY, of having to worry about this request. But I did it for principle.

I got a letter back from them that was so funny and so simple, it made me ashamed. It said, Fine, he'll do the pin-up. Don't send any more emails. And then it said, "Seriously." How embarrassing. How humiliating.

Once the money was sent, I found a message on my answering machine from Gene in New York! He just wanted to check on the composition he had in mind for my pin-up. I was so excited, I saved the message special to play for my wife. I was trying to figure out a way I could record a copy and save it for my personal records. At this time, I was saving the envelopes artists sent me their pin-ups in, because it had their names in their handwriting, and it was really cool to me to have these little pieces of their everyday lives.

I called him back, and it was a rush to speak with him on the phone. He was so polite and friendly. He made no mention of what a pain in his ass I was. He said he planned to graveyard with a kid in it, who's jumping back in shock, right as a giant foot stomps down at him. Sounds great, I said. Do whatever you like.

That day, when I got home from work to share the phone message with my wife, I went to the answering machine to play it for her, and the machine said there were no messages. I literally howled with anguish, and she came running out. I said, "There was a message on the machine I wanted to share with you!" I was crushed. She had seen a bunch of old messages on the machine and assumed they were all ones she had heard, so she deleted them without listening to them first. I couldn't believe it. I was in shock. I was devastated.

The pin-up came, and it was gorgeous. And it was still huge. Even though I'd asked for an 11"x17", it ended up being 14"x22!"

22. ONE OF MY FAVORITE ARTISTS

After San Diego 2001, I wrote to Mike Allred, c/o Marvel Comics, and told him what a great artist I thought he was. Joe Quesada had brought all these great indie artists onto Marvel's mainstream books, and Mike was now on an X-book, shaking things up in the industry. I wrote him in the old-fashioned style, by typing a letter and mailing it to the Marvel offices. I wrote that I thought it was great that he was riling up mainstream comics fans, and good for him. I wrote about how impressive I thought it was, that he could use such simple, thick lines, and convey so much. I was thinking specifically of his Red Rocket Seven books, where he would draw crowds of people, and each one was so distinct, and had so much personality, even though they were all just simple, thick lines. I never heard back.

When I spoke with him at San Diego 2002, I mentioned writing him, and he said that Marvel forwards any emails they receive about X-Force, but they never mail him any mailed letters. That explained it, I thought.

My confidence was up after visiting with him at the con, because he was so friendly. Soon, I was searching the internet. I found a Mike Allred Message Board online, and saw he would even occasionally answer people who wrote in. I finally got up the nerve to write to him, and said a lot of the same stuff I'd said in my original mailed letter. I appreciated that he was approachable and friendly. I appreciated how much variety and character he could convey with his simple lines, and how it almost seems more difficult to convey so much, as opposed to cross-hatching any potential blemishes until they're hidden. He posted a reply to my email right away, and was as friendly and welcoming as ever. His reply was also sent to me as an email, so I wrote the email back, but found the email was sent computer-generated, through his webmaster at the website. I wrote another post, listing my email and asking him to get in touch with me, but he never did. Of course, the reason I was trying to get in touch with him was that he was first on my list to try and get a pin-up from.

Because I'm persistent (bordering on stalking?) I put together a package and sent it to the PO Box that Mike had listed inside his Atomics comics, which I knew he self-pubished. I sent him copies of I think the first three Ayers-inked monster stories I'd done, and gushed what a fan I was, and if there were any way I could negotiate to get a pin-up from him, that would be the greatest. This packaged was enough to get me me a personal email.

He wrote that he really loved the monsters, but that his schedule was just too busy to do commissions. I didn't really expect that he would do a pin-up, so I wasn't too disappointed about that. He had told me at San Diego that he didn't do commissions. Mostly, I just felt so cool that I had just gotten a personal email from one of my very favorite comics artitsts.

I wrote back and told him I hoped he would think of me if his schedule ever lightened up. I also wrote that if he ever decided to sell any of his original art, I hoped he would let me know, because I would be interested in buying some of his art. I was excited about the thought of getting some up-close looks at his line-work. I didn't expect he would be up for selling any art any time soon, however, because at the last San Diego Con, when I had asked about his original art, he said with a laugh that he kept it all, because he liked it too much.

So imagine my surprise when he wrote right back to tell me that he was just talking with his wife about selling some of his original art, for the first time in quite a while. There were a few Madman issues he decided he was willing to part with, but the catch was that he didn't want to break any of the art up, so he decided he would only sell full issues as a set. He listed a price, which was of course way more than I could afford. After all, it was twenty-four pages AND a cover.

And that's when I started getting crazy ideas in my head. I started pacing, as I am wont to do when I get crazy ideas in my head, or just when I'm concentrating and my mind is racing too much to sit still. I had just gotten a credit card that had a zero percent interest for nine months, and a few no-fee checks. I knew, realistically, it would take me at least nine months to pay off a purchase like this. What in the hell was I thinking? Why was even considering this??!

I called my wife and told her Allred emailed me that he was selling his art, and how expensive it would be. And I told her I wanted to see, if I offered to pay the amount he was talking about, if he would maybe throw in a pin-up of a giant monster that I could publish. A crazy, daring, completely idiotic scheme. But then I would own a full issue of original art by one of my favorite comics artists, and I would have a pin-up, to publish in my very own comic, by one of my favorite comics artists. I bit my nails and waited for a reply, and he went for it. If I bought a full issue of Madman original art, he would draw me a giant monster.

This really got me pacing. Was I this stupid, that I was actually going to do this? It was crazy. I sent him another email, asking if I would need to pay any extra for the pin-up, or shipping, or taxes. Or anything. I also wanted to make sure I could announce my comic would contain his pin-up, and make sure he didn't expect any royalties. I had to go to work, and while there, I started thinking...

You're fucking crazy. What in the hell is the matter with you???!! This was completely idiotic!! What have you done!?! What have you gotten yourself into??! I realized, my only chance to get out of this was if he disagreed with any of my requests, like wanting extra money for shipping. I almost hoped he would add shipping, just so I could say, "I'm really sorry, but I'm stretching myself too thin." I was sweating and pacing all day at work. I couldn't concentrate on anything else. But when I got home, there was an email from him, and he was so sweet about everything. He said, of course everything I asked for would be included in the price. I had no excuses, no recourse. I grabbed my no-fee, no-interest credit card checks, and sent him the payment.

21. LEE'S COMICS, December 14 2002

My dealings with some artists just deserve their own chapter. Good frigging God, every time I see Steranko, he warrants a whole new entry for himself! What a character! What a personality! Here's my first meeting with him.

On December 14th, 2002, I was poking into my local comics shop, and they had a flyer out that said Steranko and Pulitzer Prizewinner Michael Chabon were doing a signing, that very day, in the Bay Area. I looked at my watch. There would be a presentation beginning within the hour, and then a signing to follow. I ran home, packed up my comics work, and headed out, braving a horrible rainstorm.

I had just gotten my Kirby style monster stories inked by Dick Ayers, and was now fully envisioning getting pin-ups of giant monsters from artists. I went into town to Kinkos to try to make copies of my work to show him. The storm had knocked the power out, and Kinko's was closed. I realized it would be more cluttery and embarrassing, but I would have to just take the original pages down to show the legendary Steranko what I was doing.

The rain was POURING down. It was a miserable drive. It took a couple hours, and I picked a Bay Area friend up along the way. By the time we reached the store, the talk was long over. There was a huge line going around the wall and up an aisle of the shop, with Steranko at a table at the front. He was still signing.

Steranko had designed a poster for this event, and everyone who came to the signing would get a free copy, signed by Michael Chabon and Steranko. Michael had left, but he had signed all the posters before leaving. Steranko was handing them out.

I milled around for a while and hoped the line would die down, but it remained the same consistent length for probably an hour or so, so finally I just got in line and waited, with my portfolio. I waited there for I don't know...a half hour? Finally I got to the front.

I had been listening to his banter with the people in line in front of me. I really liked his personality. He was smiling and joking, and he's got a sharp, smart wit. He's cocky, he's edgy, but in a teasing way that I found hilarious and fun...but intimidating.

The person in front of me had an original piece of Steranko's art from the seventies. It was used as an ad for some Hulk hologram jewelry or something, and I remember seeing it in a ton of my old comics. This guy wanted Steranko to sign it. Steranko said he would only sign it personalized, writing the person's name on it. Otherwise, he wouldn't sign it. The guy finally decided he didn't want it signed. You could tell the guy was either thinking about selling it on Ebay tomorrow, or at the least, selling it on Ebay in the future, and that's exactly why Steranko wouldn't sign it.

It must be frustrating for artists, doing sketches or signing books, and then finding them on ebay the next day on sale and selling for a fortune. Of course as artists, we want to do favors to our fans, and give back to them, and give them autographs or sketches, or something personal for being a fan and buying our products and giving us support and appreciation. But so often, people just take advantage, take the items and try to sell them and make a profit. The artist never sees any of that money. So the artist is trying to be a nice guy, and s/he gets screwed.

But on the other hand, we the artists had the opportunity to charge whatever price it was worth to us at the time we handed it over. Or we could have had faith in our future and held onto our artwork and used all the space it would have taken to have stored it away somewhere, like our fans choose to do, and waited for that moment when it would be its most valuable, and then sell it on ebay ourselves. And if the moment never hit, like it often never does with some artists, or some artists' books, then we would have just been out of luck, like our fans would have been. Or we could buy copies of our old issues for their going market rate, or look for deals on our old issues, like our fans do, and then sign them and sell them on ebay ourselves for a higher price. Or we could sketch stuff and just put the sketches straight up on ebay ourselves.

But I think it's easier to just see people making a profit off of us, and not really think about the work and time the profit-makers put into it, and feel like we're not getting our cut. And its true artists historically have been underpaid and taken advantage of. It's a complicated issue. I have mixed feelings about it. It makes me think about how throughout time, artists probably haven't been paid well, unless they happened to have good business sense. Can't it be enough to just try and be a good artist without worrying about that other stuff? Michelangelo's or Van Gogh's masterpieces sell for a fortune, but they never really saw any of that fortune. They were just doing what they loved. Or maybe they didn't even love it, but they had a talent for it, and figured they could probably make a living at it. They were just work for hire, looking for a job at a time, and doing a day's work to try and make a day's pay.

So now I was at the front of the line, face to face with Steranko.

I had brought a book for him to sign. He asked my name and personalized his signature. I tried to motion to my portfolio and pull out my Ayers-inked drawings, but he cut me off, "I don't have time to look at those right now, I was supposed to leave here an hour ago." I tried to just ask if I he does pin-ups, but I was still new at asking artists, and didn't really have a quick, concise way of asking, and I couldn't get the words out. I asked if he had an email or website I could contact him through. "No, no, I never got into that computer stuff", etc, just shrugging me off. Then he decided he'd wasted enough time with me. He still had his smiling, joking persona, but he basically turned away from me and addressed the next person in line, and acted as if I wasn't there anymore, even though I hadn't moved.

I was speechless with shock and disappointment, not just that he shrugged me off and wouldn't even listen, but also because he was supposed to give me a free poster, goddamnit, and he didn't give me one. So I'm standing there waiting for him, and he's just ignoring me this whole time. Finally, the woman assisting him glanced kind of reluctantly at me, and I asked her if I could get a poster. And she said, oh yes, of course, and tried to get Steranko's attention, but he ignored her too. He's still smiling at whoever's in line that he's addressing, and thanking them for their kind comments to him. Finally, after maybe a full minute or two of this, he looked at her and gave the expression of, "Oh, I'm sorry, were you trying to get my attention?"

She asked in a tip-toeing fashion. She pointed out I hadn't gotten a poster, and could he sign one for me. So he signed a poster, and finally looked at me and addressed me. He said, "Don't worry, we'll look at your stuff at the next convention. I just don't have the time right now."

I appreciated that he said that. I could understand now that he was busy. But then he followed up with, "I'm gonna be in L.A. tomorrow for another signing. Maybe you could come to that signing." I'm thinking, He can't be serious?!! I'm thinking, Oh, I've got nothing to do. Maybe I'll just head to L.A. tomorrow. It's only an hour or so airplane flight if I can get a ticket for the next day, or a seven hour drive. That's a real good possibility.

So after that, my friend and I stuck around and just kind of poked around through the comic shop, just to be in the Steranko atmosphere. He was still there for some time, even though he was supposed to have left over an hour ago, and he seemed to be getting kind of irritable or at least tense, the longer he was there. I heard him making comments, very polite to all his fans, that he'd been here well beyond the time allocation of the signing, but that he really had to be somewhere, maybe to catch a plane. Finally, he finished signing for everyone, grabbed up his things and shouted to his booking agent or whoever it was, "I AM LEAVING NOW! I AM ON THE PLANE!" and stomped out and was gone in a flurry. What a presence! What a force of nature!

And I'm thinking, what a relaxing Sunday. I'm so glad I saw this was going on today and decided to come down.

20. A-1 COMICS LOCAL SIGNING

Every now and then, my local Sacramento Comics Convention will have an artist I'm interested in meeting. Also, my favorite local shop, A-1 Comics, will offer to split the bill to have the artist in question come out, so that Saturday, this person is at A-1, and Sunday they're at the con.

I met Brent Anderson, Bill Morrison, Darrick Robertson, Trina Robbins, Steve Leialoha, and Mark Waid at these smaller local events. I had the opportunity to meet Paul Smith and James Robinson, because I was at the store on the day they were signing together. But instead of going over to meet them, I just went through bins and bought comics. James Robinson actually noticed me, with my big stack, and commented on my stash. But I still didn't talk to him. This was years before I planned to self-publish, and that time I was only interested in buying a bunch of junk.

I think this was around 2002. When I learned Bill Morrison was coming, I went through my Simpsons comics and picked out a couple for him to sign. I thought it might be fun to get a pin-up of Dick Hammer or Dr. DeBunko in the Simpsons style. I had heard that Bill Morrison had also spent some time doing work for Disney, and was the artist who had drawn the infamous Little Mermaid poster. I went to his website and saw he was doing a new comic called Roswell.

He was at A-1, signing and doing sketches. The rule he told everyone was that he could only draw Simpsons characters if we brought in Simpsons merchandise for him to sign it on. So for example, he would draw a Homer sketch inside a Simpson's book, but he wouldn't draw that same sketch in someone's notebook. He said it was a licensing agreement with Fox. If you didn't have Simpsons merchandise for him to draw on, he would just draw a sketch in his own style. Of his Roswell comic, for example.

He said that when Matt Groening put together his contract for the Simpsons tv show, he was given permission to keep the copyright for all merchandising, and Fox has kicked themselves ever since, because he's made a fortune off his merchandise, and they haven't. Now Fox offers very different contracts, and keeps their hand in their shows' merchandising. Bill isn't involved with the animation of the shows, but in addition to basically being in charge of the Simpsons comics (directly under Matt Groening) he's done a majority of artwork for all the merchandising, be it toys or games or waffle boxes or whatever.

He was very kind, and drew great sketches in all my comics. I brought a Radioactive Man comic, and he drew a nice little Radioactive Man in it. I brought a Simpsons comic that was styled after the cover of Fantastic Four #1, and he drew the Thing in Simpsons style inside that one.

I asked him, So tell me about the Little Mermaid poster. He looked at me without a readable expression or tone in his voice, and he said, "What about it?" For those of you who don't know or remember, there was a huge controversy about his picture, because it's a family Disney poster, and the sand castles in the background looked like rock-hard, shining, golden penises jutting majestically into the air. Of course I'd heard rumors that whoever the artist was, he'd been upset with Disney for whatever reason, and this was going to be his last job for them, so he covered the picture with penes (that's the plural of penis. Look it up in the dictionary) as a final fuck-you-farewell.

The way Bill described it, Disney had released The Little Mermaid, and had had a poster without penises for the movie release, but for the video release, if I understood correctly, it would be cheaper for them to hire a commission redrawing of the poster than to pay for the re-use of the original. So they contacted Bill, and basically asked if he could do something really fast. Like maybe in a day or something. And if I remember, he might have even said he was really sick. And he's whipping out this poster as fast as he can, and abbreviating shapes and forms just to try and get the piece done in time. And so, simplifying the forms of the towering castles, he somehow gave them shafts, bulbous tips and even a hole that looks like it's made for peeing out of. Uncanny and disgusting coincidence, but that's what he said: that it was a complete accident that he was entirely unaware of. He said, after he turned the project in, someone called and told him to look at the background. Okay. Look at the castles. Okay...wow! When he realized, of course there was a big uproar from Disney, who was furious, and he had to have a number of his business acquaintances vouch for him, that he wasn't that kind of guy.

Next day I saw him at the Sac Con and asked about possibly commissioning him for a pin-up. He said he's allowed to draw in his own style, but not in the Simpsons style. Naturally a let-down, but still I liked the idea of getting a pin-up from him. He's one of those names I don't get the feeling as many fans know, but within the industry I think he must be well-respected, if nothing else for running the Simpsons books. I got his contact info.

I felt bad, because he gave a really interesting talk on doing Simpsons animation. He brought and handed out character reference sheets, showing the specific proportions and details of all the Simpsons characters. He said these were copies of the actual sheets all the Simpsons animators used, to insure accuracy and continuity from artist to artist. The reason I felt bad is that I had to cut out early from the talk, because earlier, I'd found a comics dealer who was representing the Kirby foundation and selling Jack Kirby original art. I didn't have enough money on me, and had to run home (a half hour away) to get my checkbook, and get back before the con ended, so I could buy a couple of very affordable pages from Justice Inc, which I don't think many comics collectors, or even Kirby fans, particularly appreciate, but that I love, since they'tr pure pulp. I explained to Bill afterward, and even showed him the pages I bought. But I always wondered if he just thought, Yeah, whatever, jerk.

I emailed him at least once, and maybe twice, and never heard from him. I did bump into him at some other conventions though, and continue asking him about the possibility of getting a pin-up whenever I see him. Whenever I do see him, he seems open to the possibility.

19. THE BIRTH OF DORIS DANGER WHILE TRYING TO FIND ARTISTS TO DO PIN-UPS

After San Diego 2002, I began to realize, this is a whole industry that's very available to its public. You can go to cons and meet all your favorite artists. They're all there, at the cons. And they're all just sitting around, with nothing to do. You can just walk right up to them, and tell them how much you admire their work. And if you treat them like professionals and ask about hiring them to do work, and they have time in their schedule and are interested in what you have in mind, a lot of them will give you their emails to discuss possibilities. I was going home from San Diego with a few of my favorite artists' emails. A bunch of them said they were willing to draw pin-ups that I could publish in my books. That's pretty damn exciting.

I was new to the internet and computers, but going home I started fantasizing about all the artists I thought it would be just impossibly cool to get pin-ups from. Of course my two favorites are Mike Allred and Mike Mignola. I was beginning to think Mike Mignola was untouchable (which it turns out was not true), but I'd met Mike Allred both years at San Diego. Even though talking with him, it didn't sound like I would be able to convince him if I tried, I still dreamed about getting a pin-up from him.

I think the whole thing that got my juices flowing about pin-ups was Mike Allred's Madman book. I had noticed pretty early that he had at least one pin-up by a cool artist, every issue. I thought, That's kind of neat. It shows he's enjoyed by cool people in the industry, enough that they're willing to draw pictures of his character that he can publish in his book. Sure, I'd seen pin-up books like Sandman, or an anniversary issue of Batman with a bunch of cool drawings, or Sin City, or a pin-up by a cool artist on the back cover of every issue of Wolverine. But Madman did it for me. He had so many GREAT artists, one after the other. He even put out sets of trading cards of all these great artists. But what really made me take note is when he started putting out a four-issue run of just Madman pin-ups. Every issue, I'd go, Holy Shit! He got THIS artist to do a pin-up! He got THIS artist too? It was overwhelming, all the great artists he got, and I thought that was so cool. I wanted my comic to be that cool.

At this time, I had asked Dick Ayers if he might do a pin-up of my character, Dick Hammer, in military get-up -- khakis and helmet -- wielding a machine gun in one hand and a grenade in another, explosions and rubble and carnage all around him, that kind of thing. And I'd asked Dean Ormston about a pin-up of Dr. DeBunko, just standing and saying, "Of course there's no such thing as monsters," and behind him, and unbeknownst to him, a bunch of monsters creeping and slithering his way. But once I got home from my trip, and in a flash dazzling clarity, I had this crazy idea.

Being so in love with Jack Kirby's giant monster stories, and knowing Dick inked all of them, I imagined doing my own Kirby-style giant-monster story, and Dick inking them.

I was on vacation in Las Vegas, and I started to brainstorm these crazy stories about all these different factions. Monster lovers, monster haters, hippies who believe peace includes monsters, Christian Fundamentalists who think monsters go against creationism, government G-Men trying to prevent the populace from believing in monsters, greedy journalists who create fake giant monster evidence for catchy headlines, scientists who try to make the public believe in giant monsters as a hobby, robots, armies out to destroy monsters, underground movements to protect them.

My original idea was for the lead to be "Dirk Danger," but I decided later on that a woman lead would be better. I'm sure my wife, Elizabeth, must have come up with the name, "Doris Danger." She's great with those kinds of bad puns.

A lot of my early ideas stemmed from the "Men in Black" approach. I'd never seen the films or read the comics, but I was moderately familiar with UFO lore, and liked the idea of government boys brainwashing the public so that they didn't remember what incriminating or dangerous sights they'd seen. Pretty soon (specifically, when I realized it was the premise of the movie), I ignored or distanced myself from those kinds of stories.

I knew I wanted to have each episode begin by getting out of a cliffhanger, and end getting into a different cliffhanger. And I knew I would never resolve how the cliffhanger was escaped. Throwing continuity out the window was a part of the structure from the very beginning. Because when you watch episodic television, not on a full-season dvd package, but just on tv, there are always reruns interspersed and no particular order. And there's always a week you just aren't able to catch, for whatever reason. That's just how it plays. You see an episode and don't know what the hell's going on, but you know that guy's a good guy, and that guy's bad, and you know the good guy will survive, and get in more trouble soon enough. And after you see a few episodes, then you realize, Oh, that's why that guy did this in the first episode I saw. And that's why they're looking for this person. Now I get it. You piece it together as you go, and the longer you stick with it, the better you're able to put the big picture together, and the more enjoyable it is. So my monster stories would be an exercise to see if you can do this with complete nonsense as its basis. With a complete lack of continuity.

So I sent Dick Ayers an email, and it was WAY too long, because I hadn't sent emails before, and there was so much I wanted to ask and explain, and I talk way too much as it is when it's about myself. So I brought all these ideas up, and he wrote back in like two sentences, saying he'd ink my monster stories. Wow!

This got me so excited, I whipped out the first five-page Doris Danger story within a couple weeks, and then I began hunting down other artists to see if they would draw a giant monster I could publish in my upcoming comic. I approached anyone I admired that I could find, at every convention I went to, and I began hunting them down online too. I was new to the internet. I was shocked. It's amazing. Everyone had websites, and you could just email their sites, and a lot of these idols of mine would even write me back. Not all of them, but a lot of them. And a lot of them weren't interested in doing pin-ups, but some of them were. And once I'd hunted down a dozen or so to contact, I was slowly starting to get pin-ups from a few of them.

Of course, once they saw Dick Ayers was inking my stories, that was a big incentive for them to join in. I felt like it really gave me validation. And the more artists I've gotten, the more other artists have been willing to contribute. It's almost like a peer pressure thing now.

I put out emails fairly regularly, either cold or to the people I'd met at conventions. Often, they wouldn't write back, even if we'd made contact and they'd given me their info. Or sometimes, I would have to write a few times before they would write back.

I've learned now that it's not necessarily anything personal when they don't write back. They're just busy. Or they have other priorities. I think a lot of the time, they keep my email in their inbox, and they're thinking about it in the back of their head, but they're so busy with other things, and then my email gets bumped lower and lower onto their list and eventually gets lost. And if I write and remind them, then they realize they forgot to get back to me, and that's when they'll write back.

I would always spend so much time trying to phrase my letters just so. I would write these way-too-lengthy letters out, and then read and re-read them, over and over. And I always said basically the same things to everyone, but still personally wrote each letter. It was such a careful, slow, exciting process for me. And then came the dreadful and nerve-racking wait for their reply.

If an artist took over a few days, I would start to have bouts of anxiety that maybe I said something that offended them, or bothered them. I would try to analyze what I'd said, and figure out if there were some way it could be read differently, since you can't intone your sarcasm or humor. Unless you use emoticons, which I avoid. I would voice my concerns to my wife, and she'd always, say, "Would you relax. Wait for them to get back to you before you sweat it. They might not check their emails every week. They might be busy." And sure enough, they usually wrote back shortly after, and I'd realize it was all in my mind. To this day, I still find myself suffering from this emailing paranoia, every letter I send out that I don't hear from someone.

Lucky for me, I've been able to do pretty well financially as a guitar instructor. It's a decent per lesson fee I charge, and since Elizabeth works for the State, we get all our benefits from her. So I've managed to have money to offer to all these professionals, to pay them for their pin-ups. A lot of people ask me my secret for getting pin-ups: That's the secret. Money, and a lot of time hunting down and bugging way more artists than you get pin-ups from, over and over again. Being persistent, but not being harassing.

But Jesus it's been expensive. It's been so expensive, I've had to plan and think about who's most important or cheapest or most convenient. I've had to pace who I approach, and when I contact them. And then I have to wait for a reply and a schedule before I dare try to contact another batch. But like I say, I feel really lucky that I've got a job that allows me to afford to do this. And of course, it's all a tax-write-off, as long as I'm professionally publishing the artwork. And of course, if I can include keeping the art with the payment, it's also an investment.

As a self-publisher, I have yet to make back even my printing costs for each book. And then on top of that, I'm completely out for the thousands of dollars I've shelled out for the pin-ups. And I haven't even made a cent for myself. My payment for self-publishing is knowing I'll lose thousands of dollars an issue, but own some great original art.

Some of my dreams of comics artists I'd like to contribute to my book, besides Mike Mignola and Mike Allred: Bruce Timm, the king of Kirby style comics, in my opinion. I fantasized about him not just doing a pin-up, but an entire story. Steve Rude, who also does a fantastic Kirby. I fantasize about getting an entire story from Gilbert Hernandez or Mike Allred. I don't bother to fantasize about getting a full story from Mignola, because I just assume it could never possibly happen.

Then I started fantasizing about getting a Dick Hammer or Dr. DeBunko story written by Alan Moore or Grant Morrison or Neil Gaiman, or an introduction to my stories written by them. Or getting a sketch of a giant monster from them -- they're both artists.

Other fantasies: Getting pin-ups from Kevin Nowlan, Brian Bolland, Tim Bradstreet, Al Feldstein, Bill Sienkiewicz, Frank Miller, Matt Groening, Michael Kaluta, all three of the Hernandez Brothers, Joe Kubert, Dave Sim, Barry Windsor Smith, Al Williamson, Frank Frazetta, Shag, Mike Ploog, Daniel Clowes, Neal Adams, Bernie Wrightson, Adam Hughes, Steve Ditko, Will Eisner. There are so many great artists out there. And so many who've passed away, who I missed...

18. SAN DIEGO COMIC-CON 2002

This year, there weren't any hotel problems.

Here's what I was beginning to realize by now about portfolio reviews. These editors were there as a courtesy to the industry, but not really to try and find new talent. They all knew and had worked with a stable of known, successful, talented, professional artists, and they knew their strengths and weaknesses. They knew they could depend on them to do a job, on a deadline, and they knew the quality they could expect of the job, because these people did it for a living. If they didn't personally know the artists, they knew their work, and they could get them for a job if they wanted to. Why would any editor want to take a chance on an unknown who had no experience. Maybe the sample page looked good, but how consistent would twenty-four pages look, and how would this newbie do on a deadline? Too many unknowns and risky chances in giving a schmuck like me a shot at professional work. I don't blame them. When I waited in a review line, each editor tended to tell me I needed to work on a completely different thing, and some of them might even like the things that other editors thought needed work. Any little thing they could find, they would use as an excuse to send me away, and of course every one of them would find some little thing, because then they could send me away. Now I had done it all enough, and I wasn't interested in doing it any more.

Sure, some artists are discovered that way. I've heard of a couple artists whose artwork blew away the editors, and they gave them work. This is Simon Bisley or Adam Hughes. These are the people who you don't see every day. They come around a few times a lifetime. But for the rest of us, I''ll tell you how the portfolio review can work, and land you a job. If you keep spending hours in line, over and over and year after year, and if your art is decent, the editor will keep seeing you, and if you're lucky, maybe they'll eventually recognize you. Especially if you're pounding them and sending new samples, every time they return the previous set. Then you've got their notice. Then they're more willing to give you decent advice, or look at your art differently, and maybe help to shape you in a way they want their artists to be. I know people who've gotten in this way. It seems to take usually about three years.

But I wasn't interested in doing this again this year. I decided, I'm going to get advice from artists. From people who draw for a living. And then I won't have to wait in line for over an hour. I can just walk up to them and show them my stuff. And I'll be able to take their advice more seriously, because they don't have any motive to do anything except just tell me what they think.

I wasn't looking for work. I was just looking to meet some people whose art I admired, and get their takes on my artwork. Because if I like their art, they should have the best advice for what to do with my own work to make it good, in both our eyes. And in addition, then I could meet and spend some time with all these artists I admired!

Even so, I still got different advice from everybody. And for a while I would just try and sort out what advice was helpful to me, and just not pay much attention to any advice I didn't think would necessarily make my art better. And then I'd just try and make my art better.

Eventually, after this con, I finally decided I wasn't interested in hearing people's advice any more, and I stopped going to artists or editors for their opinions and suggestions, unless I was having trouble with something specific, and couldn't figure out how to handle it. From this con onward, I pretty much just tried to look at my work and figure out for myself what was working, and do what I could to make it better. I know my strengths, and I know my weaknesses. When I go to cons, I just show artists what I'm doing, and either they liked it or they didn't. But I don't show them to get advice on my work. I show them, to see if they will do a pin-up for me. More on that later.

GRANT MORRISON

Grant Morrison was supposed to do a signing the first day, but he never showed up. We heard rumors that there had been a car accident on the local freeway, and anyone coming by car was stuck in unmoving traffic.

Next day we waited in line and got to Grant. His line was pretty long, and it moved slowly. We realized as we got closer, he really took his time with everyone who came up, and gave them each a chance to really visit with him. What a kind guy in this industry. So approachable. Makes you feel so special.

His right arm was sunburned, as if it had been hanging out of a car door (stuck in traffic?) the day before. I forgot to ask.

I had brought a Doom Patrol issue for him to sign. It's probably my favorite of his run on the series, because it made me laugh harder than perhaps any other comic I've read. Number 34, about the evil Brain in the jar falling in love with his gorilla henchman. Grant said he'd like to do more light, fun stories, like that, but that his stories have been more serious lately. I showed him some copies of my drawings, and he asked if he could keep them. That's a really thoughtful way to handle fans, I thought, even if he never looks at them. I'd watched him say the exact same thing with the person in line in front of us.

MIKE ALLRED

Went to an X-Panel, which was less entertaining than the previous year. We milled about after, and watched Mike Allred leave with his editor, Axel Alonso. Elizabeth asked what I wanted to do next, and I said, "Sh!", and I followed them like a stalker. They got to the floor area and parted ways, and I boldly called Mike's name. I told him what a huge fan I was, but that I think the coloring was any good in his issues of Marvel Team-Up. I said I thought all the air-brush effects completely wiped out his line-work. He aggressively asserted his agreement, and we got talking a little. He said he was looking at artists he admired who'd built up such a huge body of work. His Madmans had come out so infrequently, he was making a conscious effort this year to find ways to work quicker, and put more books out for his fans to enjoy. I asked him if he ever does commissions. No, he's too busy. I asked if he ever has original art to sell, and he said he likes it too much to sell it, and laughed. I felt fucking fantastic to be talking with my idol Mike Allred about his art.

Elizabeth wanted to be more and more helpful. She continued waiting in lines, while I did other things or tried to meet other people. She would encourage me to run off and do something, and she would just sit and wait for me to get back. Every time I got back, she had befriended all the people in line around her. She's so damn cute and friendly and likeable! And a new bonus to having a cute wife: if I took her with me when I tried to meet people, she made the people much more willing to open up and not think I was the complete nerdy comic freak that I actually am.

TIM BRADSTREET

Seeing Tim Bradstreet's art, I had felt he would be really intimidating. I assumed he'd be hard to get to as well. I just happened to walk by while he was there, and found him amazingly approachable and friendly. He told me about when he tried to get into the comics industry. He loved Tim Truman, and shyly went to him at a comics convention. Truman had critiqued his work, and Bradstreet went back to him again at the next con, over and over Then one convention, Truman said, "This looks really good, Do you want to do some inking work for me?" That was Tim's shining moment, landing work from his idol like that. Another kid came up to Tim to show his work, and Tim was really kind about giving support. What a nice guy!

A WRITER WHO I WON'T NAME

I found one of my favorite artists from my formative years, sitting at the DC booth. I had brought one of his comics to the con for him to sign, in case I found him. I told him how important his stories were to me as a kid. He kind of glared at me and said, "Well I'm still making comics now, you know." I replied, "I know, I think it's great." He settled down, but it was too late. His comment rubbed me the wrong way. You know, I thought, I understand that you were really a sensation in your younger years, and that you probably just don't get the same attention you do now that you used to. Fame is a fickle, delicate thing, and it eventually tends to die out for a lot of people, because the young just don't take the time to learn their history. But in addition to all that, my tastes, and other peoples' tastes, change as we get older, and as we change. I loved Star Wars when I was seven. But I'm not seven any more, and I have a hell of a time trying to sit through those movies now. I don't really like science fiction at all, as a matter of fact. Maybe I'm interested in what you're still doing, and maybe I'm not. We're both different people now, and the whole world is different now. This is bullshit for you to snap at me just because you're unhappy with your current readership in comparison to your former super-stardom. I thanked him for the autograph.

DEAN ORMSTON, AND MY FIRST ATTEMPTS AT GETTING A PIN-UP FROM AN ARTIST

When I spoke with Mike Allred, I was building to try and ask him about getting a pin-up for my book. But when he said he doesn't do commissions or sell his art, I abandoned my plan. Too bad I won't be able to get a pin-up from one of my favorite artists, I thought. But there are plenty of other artists out there.

Walking around, I stumbled onto a booth where Dean Ormston was sitting at his art dealers, and he was very quiet and friendly. I timidly showed him my stuff. He had little to offer in terms of critique, but kindly said it looked good. I timidly asked if he might let me pay him for a drawing of one of my characters, that I could publish with my stories, and he said he might be willing. I thought he could do something with Dr. DeBunko, like with a bunch of scary monsters behind him, and him saying, "Of course there's no evidence to suggest that there is such thing as monsters." He was the first artist I asked about a pin-up, and I was really nervous to ask, but he gave me his email. When I got home, I had to email him twice before I got a reply. He said how busy he was, but to check back. I made a few check-backs, but never heard from him after that.

SCOTT McCLOUD

Building up confidence, I showed my copies to Scott McCloud and asked about him doing a pin-up. He said he has to be careful, because his computer art takes a long time to produce. And since he of course has projects of his own to work on, he can only afford to do pin-ups where he'll get the most bang for his buck. Meaning, of course, that my book has no potential for visibility or career-bolstering, and he's not really interested.

STAN LEE

Elizabeth and I went to go hear a Stan Lee talk. Amazingly, while waiting, up walks Stan Lee, practically right next to us, so we turned and gasped and said hello. We told him what an honor it was, and he said it what an honor it was for him. I wish I had been more on the ball and tried to get a quick photo with him. We never had such a close-contact opportunity as this one, accidental, fly-by-the-pants encounter.

At his panel, I loved all his stories. When we got home, I would get a DVD of Kevin Smith interviewing him, and I realized it had a bunch of the same stories. Then Elizabeth read his autobiography, and she said it had more of the same stories. I would begin to learn he always told all the same entertaining stories, as I heard them again and again, with each interview or tv appearance or magazine article I would subsequently catch.

We waited in line for hours for his autograph, and got a signature for my Fantastic Four Masterworks hardcover. There was someone in line with us who drew a lot of fairly crude, simplistic drawings, but I loved this sequence he did of a Karate Jimmy Carter in action. Who comes up with that kind of stuff? This guy was going to have Stan sign a drawing of Spider-Man he'd done, but finally opted to have him sign the program book instead.

LEW SAYRE SCHWARTZ AND DICK AYERS

Lew Sayre Schwartz and Dick Ayers sat next to each other in artists alley, and both of them and their wives were very friendly. Elizabeth and I found ourselves hanging out with these guys a fair amount, and really enjoyed them all, and got their contact info. Both of them looked separately at my pages, and were very kind. Lew's wife told Elizabeth that when they were at the Eisner Awards, Lew was looking at the slides of all the "best promising newcomer" awards and whispering, "Chris's art is better than all these guys." Well, it's certainly a nice sentiment, and it made me feel proud.

After spending way too much time with these guys, I nervously asked Dick about doing a pin-up for me. He said he'd be up for it, and gave me his business card! I asked Lew, but he said he isn't drawing anymore.

EDDIE CAMPBELL

Eddie Campbell told me about doing his basically self-published EgoMania book. He said there were loose stories, interviews, and things he wanted to do, and so he decided, he made a big wad of extra cash for the "From Hell" movie, and he'd just take that money to publish this book, the way he wants to do it, and see how far it goes, and just keep publishing it until the money runs out. I later learned he was only able to get it to run for two issues, and this after issue two had an Alan Moore interview. What a goddamn industry...

He looked at my Dick Hammer pages, and pointed out the panels he liked better, which tended to be the photo-referenced ones. He pointed out the ones he felt weren't as strong, which tended not to be photo-referenced. He said when he did "Snakes and Ladders" for Alan Moore, he knew he would need a model for the snake dancer, so he hired one, and was very pleased with how his art for that sequence turned out. He said he didn't think he could have done the sequence without a model. I told him I would see him again next year, and he said he'd definitely remember my work, because it was unique. Now that I'd had a couple successes asking other artists about pin-ups, I asked Eddie. He just kind of smiled and shook his head like he was busy and not really interested. I really enjoyed spending time with him, and read his current comic while we were still at the convention. I actually emailed him when we got home to tell him about it, and he printed my letter in his next issue, which featured an extensive interview of Alan Moore. For you Chris Wisnia completists out there, the issue was EgoMania #2.

MORE LEW SAYRE SCHWARTZ

We sat in on Eddie Campbell's interview of Lew Sayre Schwartz, and there were only maybe a dozen or less of us listening in there. It was awful. Lew had really interesting stories to tell, though, about how Bob Kane was so popular, he had DC paying him to produce more stories than he was able to produce on his own. So he hired artists like Lew, and paid them himself, out of the money he got from DC. But the catch was, they had to agree that Bob would get to sign his own name to their work. That way, DC still thought it was Bob's art, and Bob still got credit. The artists didn't care because they were happy to be making money. But that's why we don't realize who all these classic artists are or what they contributed to our medium.

After the talk, Lew drew a quick sketch of Batman for a very small child. Later, back in artists alley, I asked if I could pay him to do a sketch for me. He agreed, and I ended up paying for him to send me a Golden-Age Batman AND a Golden-Age Joker color sketch. When they arrived in the mail, I found myself sucking my breath in, because it was so great to see a Golden-Age drawing of Batman by one of Batman's Golden-Age artists. I thought it was beautiful!

LOS BROS HERNANDEZ

All three Hernandez brothers were in artists alley, sitting together. The first day, Gilbert wasn't there, and I had really enjoyed his "Grip" for Vertigo. Jaime was friendly, but quiet and didn't really have any advice to offer about my work. Mario seemed friendlier and more outgoing.

Next day, I found Gilbert, but Mario and Jaime weren't there. Gilbert looked at my stuff and recommended I put more space around the voice bubbles. He said things are too cramped otherwise, and it's amazing how much less professional bubbles look when they're cramped. To show me an example, he pointed out some of his "Grip" pages, and realized they looked pretty cramped, and didn't think they were a good example.

WILL EISNER/SCOTT McCLOUD DEBATE

I listened to a bit of a Will Eisner panel, with Scott McCloud. Scott was arguing that the medium of comics has to be updated to computers, both in execution and in the experience of reading them. Eisner was arguing there's something magical about making the product by hand, as well as having a comic in your hands to read. Sorry, Scott, but I'm in the Eisner school of thought on this one. Perhaps to the detriment of my work. I love drawing by hand, lettering by hand, leaving sloppy, choppy, imperfect lines that look like mistakes that you can't really do with crisp computer work.

After the talk, we were one of the many who ran up and swamped Will. I held out one of his archives and a sharpie. He grabbed it and signed it for me. I used the same technique bumping into Brian Azarello. I pictured bringing a new Archive book for Will to sign every year, although they're so heavy and burdensome, I never managed to do it beyond that first one before he passed away.

MIKE MIGNOLA

I went and listened to a Mike Mignola, Guillermo del Toro, Ron Perlman talk, about the upcoming Hellboy film. I was impressed by Guillermo, who swore like a goddamn sailor and said his goal with the movie was to make a Kirby-style, giant-monster ass-kicking fight movie. If that's your goal, then Hallelujah, I say! The place was packed, and I knew I wouldn't be able to get to Mike in there.

Later I found him signing at the Darkhorse booth, but of course, his line was swamped. He was continuing to hype the film, and Ron Perlman was there with him. I tried to go toward the end of the signing, and that's when I learned lines get capped off, where you're not allowed to wait any more. You're too late. You're out of luck.

As I went by a little later, I realized he was still there, standing around and talking with people. I quickly ran up, pulled some Hellboy books out of my bag, and asked if he could give me a quick signature. He just said no, that he'd been signing all day. I couldn't believe it. He couldn't give me a quick signature. He was just standing there. All right, I packed back up. I was frustrated how inaccessible he was. It made me appreciate Mike Allred that much more, that he didn't mind if you just walked up to him and visited with him. His lines weren't as crowded. Little did I know just how friendly and sweet Mike Mignola actually is. But I wouldn't realize until the following year.

CARMINE INFANTINO

Carmine Infantino was tucked away at some hidden booth. I went and tried to show him my monster drawings, and he wasn't particularly interested. I asked about a pin-up, and then he became very uninterested. Although, looking back, I think it may not be so much a rudeness thing as an East Coast way of speaking, which we on the West Coast sometimes misinterpret as anger toward us. As I was winding down from my failure at trying to get a pin-up from him, up walks Julie Schwartz, and he sits down with Carmine. I didn't know what to say, and didn't want to bother these two living legends, so I left.

MURPHY ANDERSON

Managed to hunt down Murphy Anderson. He and his wife were at a booth, and his wife said how much she liked my tie. I showed my monster drawings, and he said, it looks like stories out of Strange Adventures! I said, exactly, and asked about a pin-up. He and his wife kind of looked at each other. He said he doesn't really draw any more. But just the same, they gave me their mailing address. I wrote them a couple times, but never heard back from them.

STEVE RUDE

I found Steve Rude and really wanted to show him my work. At one point, I got to him, and he said it was bad timing, but why don't I come back the next day.

The next day, I found him with just one gentleman there, and no one in line. I waited to speak with him while this strange guy was talking about some kind of Eastern meditation technique where you attune yourself to the air currents. And he suddenly closed his eyes and started swaying and jerking around like some drugged-out rag doll freak. Then after what seemed like an eternity of him flopping back and forth and nearly bumping me a couple times, he opened his eyes and said, Like that. Steve spoke with him for a LONG time.

It was a long wait, but finally I had a chance to show him my pages. He picked out one of my Dick Hammer pages, and gave me one of the most in-depth, helpful critiques I've gotten. Much of his advice was how he would do his own art, which wasn't necessarily the look I wanted, but he re-sketched some of my panels to show me what his thoughts, and even let me keep his sketches. I thought he was really sweet to take so much time with my work. Although I didn't get up the nerve to ask him about doing a pin-up, I left with one of his flyers for his website, and also with his contact info.

Elizabeth and I were exhausted once again, but we survived our second con, and I had just as great a time as our first year. All the great artists I'd met! Unbelievable! All these great artists just hanging out, and there for you to approach and visit with! All the email addresses I'd received of my favorite artists! What a goddamn industry! Even if I didn't ask all these artists about pin-ups, I could get in touch with them now, and ask about pin-ups when I got up the courage.

17. WONDERCON 2002

I had told Sam Kieth about my positive experiences with Idea Design Works at APE-CON, and he said, Oh, I know the President, Ted. I'll drop your name to him. The next time I spoke with Sam, he told me, I told Ted about you, and he said he'll be at Wondercon, and you should stop by his booth and show him your samples. Sam also told me to talk to Chris Staros at Top Shelf, who Sam was considering doing an indie project with (He wound up going with Oni, and the project was "Ojo," which I ended up helping him draw.) He would also drop my name to them next time they spoke, he said.

So I did what he asked, and it felt pretty cool to have this high-profile excuse to talk with these companies. I immediately name-dropped Sam's name for my introduction at Idea Design Works. Ted was very friendly, but when I asked about showing him my work, he gave me the impression he hadn't planned to look at portfolios. He glanced through the pages and didn't have much to comment. Finally he concluded something along the lines of, "Unfortunately, I don't really have the authority/availability of projects to offer you any kind of work." I left a sample package, but realized my in with Sam wasn't going to help much in this case. Either he really didn't have much authority/availability, or he wasn't interested and was being polite. Either way, I was out of luck

At Top Shelf, Chris Staros hadn't come to the con this year. So it felt like another dead end. But I name-dropped Sam to the man working the booth, his assistant. I left a package with him, and I really liked him. I thought he was really friendly, and he visited with me in a way that put me at ease.

Top Shelf was kind enough to send me a rejection letter in the mail as well, although it wasn't as encouraging as my first Fantagraphics rejection letter. It was more encouraging they my second, which was just a form letter.

I walked by the DC booth with my samples in my bag, and just kind of thought, Why bother. I looked to see what editors I recognized, but just couldn't get up the courage to talk to anyone. I visualized myself getting the same hackneyed (but true) advice, and I just didn't want to have to live through that torture again. I didn't end up showing them anything.

John Romita Sr. and Jr. were billed to sign together at this con. I remember I stumbled onto them early, and started to walk right up to them, because there was a big gap in front of them. Then I realized that beyond the big gap, there was actually a huge line. I wound up not bothering to try and get to meet them. Another dream shattered. Because of course I had fantasized about getting a sort of tag-team sketch of Spider-Man by each of them on one sheet.

I ended up just falling back into my usual comics convention routine, ditching the attempts to become a comics professional, and just going through bins and looking for back issues of comics.

16. APE-CON 2002

So when the APE Con came around this year in the Bay Area, I had three Dr. DeBunko and three Dick Hammer stories to shop to publishers, but I didn't really know who to approach, or how. I thought I might again approach Slave Labor and Fantagraphics. I thought I might try to approach Drawn and Quarterly and Top Shelf. I didn't know how many other possibilities would be open.

I'd spoken with Fantagraphics at the previous year's con, and they had kindly taken a package, and even sent me a reply email with a handwritten note of rejection, which I thought was nice for them to take the time. I found the same guy from the previous year, Eric Reynolds. I asked if I could leave another package. He started to begin basically the same pitch, that he can't really look at it at the con, but that they look at everything, and would send me a response, all of which I already knew. So that was one publisher down. On to the next.

I nervously went to Slave Labor. I didn't find the same guy from the previous year, or when I did, he looked busy, and I was too intimidated to get another review from him. I finally asked an underling about getting portfolio reviews, assuming I could send a package in, or maybe drop one off, if my package met with their requirements. This guy didn't ever really smile, although he was friendly enough. He gave me the general submission guidelines I'd been getting at every review I went to. He insinuated the difficulties of getting results, etc. etc. I asked if he had a moment to look at my stuff, and when I showed him, I had the impression he was impressed. I had the impression he had, assumed that I would be some talentless but nice enough schmuck, and when he saw my art, he changed his mind. Because he was an underling, he told me he didn't really make the decisions, but that he thought the work looked good. He gave me his card, and I think I left a package with him, and I felt pretty good about it.

I paced around Top Shelf and Drawn and Quarterly, trying to blend in and not be too conspicuous, but they always seemed either too busy or too cool for me to make an attempt to go up and try to show them my work.

Meanwhile, I stumbled onto a company I hadn't heard of before, called Idea Design Works. I thought their books looked like I might be able to fit with their style and genre. I kept walking by and trying to get a better look at things. I made eye contact with the gentleman manning the desk, and exchanged some pleasantries. I thought he was really friendly.

So this when on for the rest of the day, where I procrastinated and scoped things out, an felt too intimidated to just go up and talk to anyone. Finally, when the con was almost ready to close, I asked if I could show Idea Design Works my samples. Robbie Robertson was very encouraging of my work. I had the impression he thought my stuff looked really good, and he said he would get it on the desk of the man in charge. This made me thrilled.

I was so excited, I was ready to pass more packages out with confidence to the other publishers. But by then, I had been procrastinating too long, and now they were all breaking down their booths and packing up. It was too late to give something to Drawn and Quarterly or Top Shelf. I'd blown it for this year. But I could always send them something.

So I left the con with a bit of a high over the potential attention of Robbie at Idea Design Works. And not feeling bad about the interaction with Slave Labor either. But looking back in retrospect, nothing really panned out. I never heard from Slave Labor. I emailed my contact once, and never got a reply, and I don't think I tried to write them again after that. I eventually just sort of forgot about them.

Fantagraphics sent me another form rejection letter, but this time I guess they didn't think the work was good enough to bother with any personalized comments. Naturally that was a bit of a disappointment. It felt like I was going backwards instead of forwards. Shouldn't I have gotten an even nicer, more detailed rejection letter the second time around?

I emailed Idea Design Works a few times, and Robbie replied to my letters, saying he remembered me and had put the samples on the President's desk. He finally said that he asked the President, and the pages had somehow disappeared. I sent another copy, at their request, but nothing ever came of any of my inquiries after that.

So overall, with this con, there wasn't too much to share, except that I was too nervous and shy, and nothing much happened, and I didn't try hard enough with getting my work into the hands of publishers, or with following up afterwards, and naturally, that led to not finding anyone interested in what I was doing.

I knew what I was doing, though. I was going to keep drawing Dr. DeBunko and Dick Hammer, but before that, I wanted to redraw "The Lump" in a more photo-realistic style.

15. WRITING TO ARTISTS ONLINE

Around San Diego 2001, I had begun, thanks to my now-fiance, Elizabeth, learning how much information you can get online. I was completely new to this phenomenon. I had a computer that was probably ten years old, and all I had used it for until then was as a data processor for writing scripts. I had no other reason to use a computer that I knew of.

But Elizabeth showed me how much information, and how many people, can be accessed through the internet. I started looking around online, and finding that a lot of my favorite artists had their own websites, or at the very least, had places where their comics or original art were sold, or their representatives could be contacted.

Early on, I found a site dedicated to inkers, that had interviewed tons and tons of great artists, many of them pencillers who inked their own work. The site asked questions about the tools they used for inking, how long it took them to ink a page. Technical questions. I found the questions moderately interesting, but the site was amazing, because it listed most of these artists' websites and often their emails!

This began my fanboy letter-writing phase.

I fantasized about all my favorite artists, and made lists and lists of everyone I could think of that I might like to write, and included websites or emails if I could find them. I started sending out letters to a number of artists I admired, or even to artists I just admired a little. For some reason, I thought it was okay, if I liked one thing about an artist, but wasn't keen about other things, to let them know both of those things. I would let them know what I liked and didn't like. Pretty much, whenever I wrote these kinds of letters, I wouldn't hear back from the artists. If I were one of those artists, I would have been pretty pissed to get a letter like that, I think.

But if I wrote nice letters of adoration, I still sometimes wouldn't hear back from the artists, but sometimes I would. It seemed I would hear from artists with more regularity if I mentioned having an interest in buying some of their original artwork, in which case they would write back and tell me where online their art was for sale.

I remember getting a nice letter from Michael Lark. I had told him how great I thought "Batman Nine Lives" was. What can I say? I loved how noir it was. I imagined that he was maybe some hard-boiled fifty-or-so-year old, who slaved away at his art board, and didn't have much understanding of technical advances like computers. I imagined he watched old movies and read old novels and had very little contact with the outside world, let alone computer access.

He wrote a kind note about some of his favorite film noirs, and I was surprised to see Joan Crawford's "Sudden Fear" on the list. I wrote back that I hadn't had him pegged for a noir melodrama type.

I wrote a letter to Brian Michael Bendis about how great I thought his Daredevils were, firing up the story arc with the Kingpin getting hit. I wrote my personal feelings that character-driven stories are overrated and got on my nerves, because now no one cares about a good, rippin' story about events, because they're so busy exploring how their character feels, and what s/he's gone or going through, and all that bullshit that doesn't interest me. He of course never wrote back.

I was learning that if you want your idols to respect you, you should show them respect and appreciation, and not be a little twit who's so eager to tell them all the things you don't like about their art or stories. I was realizing there's no need to tell artists what you don't like, because they have to worry about that enough, every panel they draw, without all the little twits reminding them of their shortcomings.

But also, I was learning that this industry is very accessible, and you can hunt a lot of people down quite easily, and write to them and say hello, and if you're nice about it and they aren't too busy and have a moment, they'll even write you back. Wow!

14. CREATING NEW COMICS CHARACTERS

Following San Diego 2001, I found myself constantly falling back on the advice Alex Sinclair had given me during my portfolio review. It influenced my ideas for what projects I wanted to work on next, and eventually caused me to put "The Lump" on hold.

Alex recommended doing four page comics stories, rather than spend months on pages and pages of one story that a company may not be interested in. He said four pages is a commitment, but not one you have to worry about if no one likes it. However, he also pointed out that it's enough to show editors what you're capable of, what the character is capable of, and that you understand how to tell stories, with a beginning, middle, and end, in a sequential narrative.

THE CREATION OF DR. DeBUNKO

Early in my attempts to break into the comics market, I had brainstormed characters in the DC Universe that I might like to revamp. Maybe this will give you an idea how long ago it was: It was back when they were revamping all their old, lesser known characters into the Vertigo line. For some reason, Dr. 13 stuck with me most, because I'd been reading a lot of Skeptical material on vampires, witches, werewolves, and the Devil and demons. In comics, the Skeptic usually only has one of two roles. The Skeptic can be a lunatic (because the basis of most comics characters is some form of supernatural origin or ability or whatever). Or, in Scooby Doo fashion, the Skeptic has to debunk evil people posing as a supernatural force. For example, a greedy uncle might want to scare the kids from inheriting the family estate, so he makes up this elaborate, completely unrealistic and idiotic scheme involving sheets hanging from wires and flashlights, and he tries to convince those dumb kids the place is haunted, so that the mansion's possession will fall into his hands.

Dr. 13's adventures fell into this latter category, and I liked the idea of pushing the Skeptical nature of the character.

I did a four page Dr. DeBunko story, and really enjoyed doing it. The premise was based on a book I had recently read about the stages of decay of the human body after death, and how these natural stages have historically tended to excite people's beliefs in vampires. For example, people assume that the fingernails and hair of the dead continue to grow, which naturally might lead people to assume that the body isn't actually dead. In fact, these things don't grow. The skin recedes, and more of the nails and hair show as a result. The book is called, "Vampires, Burial, and Death," by Paul Barber, and I found it absolutely fascinating. I also had a book called "The Encyclopedia of Witchcraft and Demonology," by Hope Rossell Robbins, which was packed full of equally fascinating historical tidbits on peoples beliefs in the occult, often with horrifying results to their fellow man.

It was nice to work on something new and different from "The Lump." I was anxious to do some more of these four page exercises. And while working on it, I came up with another character that I thought would fit the format nicely.

THE CREATION OF DICK HAMMER: CONSERVATIVE REPUBLICAN PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR

I had been really enjoying film noir for some years at this point, to the extent that I eventually began reading books ABOUT film noir. These of course often spoke of the books the movies were based on, and I eventually meandered in that direction as well. I'd gotten through some Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett. I read some Jim Thompson and Cornell Woolrich and David Goodis and James Cain and Ross MacDonald. Of course I'd heard of Mickey Spillane, but whenever I read about him, it sounded like so many people hated his books and refused to include him amongst the classic hardboiled writers. And this despite his record sales numbers of all time. Finally, I picked up a half dozen of his Mike Hammer novels, which I found collected in two volumes.

I was hooked at once. They were so kitschy and melodramatic, violent, crude, predictable, action-packed, corny, politically incorrect, and outrageous in their xenophobia, sexism, racism, and right-wing conservatism. I laughed out loud throughout them. I loved them. I knew I had to write my own stories like this. I wanted to parody the attitude, but they felt like parodies of the attitude all by themselves. They were ripe for comics. And that's how I created Dick Hammer: Conservative Republican Private Investigator. I basically just tried to do "straight" stories of Mike Hammer.

I drew a four-page story with fairly cartoony periphery characters. But it wasn't long before I decided that I wanted less cartoony, and more photo-referenced. When I redrew the story, it expanded to six pages.

After redrawing Dick Hammer, I decided the character of Dr. DeBunko should be more photo-referenced as well. Originally, he was a kooky, mad-scientist-looking fellow with a bowtie and pipe and glasses. I wanted him to play more the straight man in the crazy universe, but I didn't think I needed to redraw everything. I ended up redrawing Dr. DeBunko in each panel, and leaving the rest basically untouched.

CREATING TABLOIA WEEKLY MAGAZINE

Soon I had done three stories each of Dr. DeBunko and Dick Hammer, at which point I created the Jack Kirby-style Doris Danger Giant Monster Adventures. This was the stage I began to visualize all these tabloid-type stories inside one book that I would self-publish, called "Tabloia."

The name Tabloia, came from combining "Tabloid" and "paranoia," and I liked that it sounded reminiscent to old horror magazines like "Creepy" and "Fangoria." After hearing the Hernandez Brothers speak about an umbrella title working well for them, I wanted a title that I thought would encompass not only these stories I was currently working on, but any story I might tell in the future. I realized that I have a real fascination with the vaguely tabloid types of stories. Not the tabloid love stories of speculating on actors who are dating, but more the predictions of Notradamus, prophecies of the Bible that must be coming true, lurid murder and violence cases, freaks of nature born with two heads or two brains, UFOs and loch ness monsters. The more macabre side of tabloids. I fumbled in my head for a dozen stories I had envisioned making into comics, and they could all fit into this "tabloia" theme.

Once I created a title, I began to envision this "Tabloia" as an actual magazine that is published within the worlds I was creating. I imagined it had been running for thirty or forty or fifty years, and that its staff could make appearances in the stories. I imagined letters pages written by imaginary fans, writing in relentlessly to voice their hatred and contempt for the magazine. I imagined smaller features in the magazine, like "Dr. Cleanie Santini Sanitation tips" and "Professor Pardi's Science Sex Facts." I imagined a new company president getting replaced every issue for incompetence. I imagined a whole world to enrich the stories even more.

I decided I wanted to begin my "Tabloia" comic on issue number 572, because that way it would be like it's been running for a long time. Also, I was born in May 1972 (5-72), and I thought, if that was a good birth for me, it's a good birth for my comic.

But if I took this tabloid magazine all the way, I would want to have distinct artistic styles with each story inside, like Daniel Clowes' Eightball. Sometimes with brush, sometimes with pen, and so on. That's the stage when I edited the Dr. DeBunko look for a third time, by going back over the pages, adding different textures, cross-hatches, and splotches. And now I had three different tabloid worlds in three different artistic styles, inside my upcoming self-published book. And if I redrew "The Lump," it would make the perfect feature story.

13. STAYING IN TOUCH WITH SAM AFTER SAN DIEGO 2001

Once home from my first big convention, I soon went over to my friend Tim's house, to show him my latest work and tell him about my adventures in San Diego. I especially wanted to tell him about my time with Sam Kieth, since he and Sam were friends, and he basically gave me an in for an introduction.

While we're visiting, his phone rings. He answers it and says, "Oh hi, Sam. Chris Wisnia's here, and we were just talking about you." Tim hands me the phone and says Sam wants to talk to me. Naturally this really excites me.

Sam opens up the conversation telling me he doesn't really have any clout with publishers or editors, but if there was ever anything he could do to help me, he'd be happy to do it. And he gave me his work and home phone numbers, and that's how my relationship with Sam began.

Over the next year or so, I would occasionally call and see how he was doing, and this usually resulted in hour-long phone calls. He was always real sociable and friendly, whenever I caught him on the phone.

He talked about how much he wasn't happy with his Sandman comics, even though in a lot of ways, those are the books he's known for and got him going. When he drew them, he was going for a Berni Wrightson look. But his inker, Mike Dringenberg, a very talented artist, had an apparently different vision, and Sam was always disappointed with the end result, which was much different than what he had envisioned. He felt he didn't belong on a fantasy book anyways.

He said Neil Gaiman told him he had showed Sam's art to Dave McKean, and Dave told him, Sam needs to learn to draw noses. And Sam got really upset, and really insecure about drawing noses.

As time passed on, during our phone calls, he would be working on different projects. We would talk about his art in Hulk and Wolverine. He would tell me story ideas he was putting into the sequel of Zero Girl, or the big plot twists in it or Four Women or Hulk/Wolverine. But I would read his comics, and I'd realize that often the things he would bring up seemed so incidental or peripheral to me. The concerns he felt strongly about, at least strongly enough to talk about, I may not have noticed in his stories, if he hadn't mentioned them to me. I don't know if it was just because he didn't want to spoil the main ideas, or if he was so advanced beyond thinking about them that he wasn't interested in them anymore.

He would talk about how every artist comes up with styles and shortcuts for drawings, and Sam has his own techniques for drawing his art, and it's not necessarily better or worse, it's just what we learn works. It can be a curse according to him, because you have trouble getting out of what you know, and your art becomes stylized.

When I was sending out invitations to my wedding, I went over to Tim Foster's house. Tim was a friend of Sam's who introduced us. And Sam was there to take photos of Tim, which he planned to use as reference for his Hulk/Wolverine book. He had photocopies of Four Women, and hadn't decided on the order of pages yet. Tim made some suggestions for narrative, and Sam wound up mixing up the order of the pages for the final draft. I remember thinking how foreign this style of writing was to me, that Sam could change the order of events, and the story would still work. With my own work, I thoroughly write out my scripts, panel for panel, usually completely in order, from start to finish, without jumping around. I complete the story before even considering throwing some lines on to paper.

Sam writes in images, not words. He knows these two people are going to see each other in this place, and then get in an argument, and this person will be upset and go do this. But what they actually say, maybe it's not as important to Sam as what they do. Once the images are finished, he puts conversations into the mouths of the images.

He talked about working for DC's Wildstorm imprint, but getting a couple other companies interested in doing a more artsy, independent book he had in mind. And he was shopping it around a little, primarily to Top Shelf, and the companies wanted a proposal, an outline, a script. But Sam was telling them, look, I've done that my whole career, and I'm not interested in that anymore. If you want to work with me, this time we'll work how I want to work. And that means, I'm going to do my book the way I want to do it. I'm not going to give you a script, or a plot, for us to discuss before continuing on. I'm going to start drawing and you can see the pages as I go, and I'll do the script last of all, and you can publish it or not publish it. And the smaller companies just wanted to work with him, and he was trying to decide which company would be best for his book.

Sam talked about how personal a lot of events in his stories are. How artists have to come up with their stories somewhere, and eventually we all steal from people we know, their experiences, their stories. And at one point his wife told him, look, I understand that that's how an artist works, and you have to tell your stories. But with this particular story, Sam was invading into her stories. It went beyond telling his own stories. He was taking stories that were so personal, they weren't his to tell. They finally decided, he was allowed to tell stories that he was a part of, but not stories that she told him, from when he wasn't around. In other words, if she's part of his story, then that justifies it being his story too. It's a fine line, finding stories. Woody Allen makes films about this very subject, of pissing all your friends and family off, estranging yourself from them, because you're stealing their lives from them to tell a story. But what a story!

While Sam was struggling trying to get his movies put together, he talked a little about Neil Gaiman. Neil wanted to get into literature, so he started writing books, and he became really successful at that, and then he decided he wanted to do films, and now he's getting into that. And Neil gets all this critical attention, whatever he does, in whatever field. And Sam's and Neil's careers both kind of kicked in with Sandman, but Sam never really got the kind of recognition he would have liked for any of his work, except for early early in his career, when he inked Matt Wagner's Mage comics. He was nominated best inker, or best new inker, or something. But ever since then, he hasn't been honored with any nominations or awards, and now he's been going for twenty years, and he thinks, it would be nice to get some recognition sometime. I assume all artists feel this way, because we all work awfully hard, and it would be nice if all that hard work could be acknowledged in some way.

Once we talked about how fans sometimes take liberties and act like they know you, but it can be a little frightening. They're so intimately familiar with your work, that in a way, they do kind of know you. I think about this when I read someone's autobiography, or listen for long periods to their radio show. You get to know them, and they become a part of your everyday life. But they don't know you at all. You're a stranger, and they probably have very little interest in getting to know you, or seeing who you are. Sam has to worry about people like this if they get too close. If they get hold of his phone number or address, for example. Probably nothing would ever come of it, but you just don't know people, and you don't know what crazy fan with a gun will think of you the way they thought of John Lennon. It's really a strange dynamic.

I think what we tended to talk about most, though, is the frustrations Sam experiences, being pegged as a mainstream comics artist, when he isn't that interested in doing mainstream work. He's known for his superhero work, and got his reputation and fan base from his superhero work, but he really just wants to do his personal, psychological, relationship-issue stories. Even his famous books, the art was always on the fringe side of mainstream, where people were telling him he was too weird, and he had to be more mainstream. So on the mainstream side, people don't feel his stories really belong. But now he's trying to get out of the mainstream, and all the indie publishers are telling him, "Look, you're a mainstream artist. You do Wolverine and Spider-Man." Sam said it almost felt like they wouldn't give him indie credibility. How dare he try and pretend he's cool and hip and indie. He's a superhero artist. So Sam felt like he was having trouble on either side of the fence. And in that respect, I think he could relate to what I was trying to do as an artist, and I suspect that's why he didn't mind me calling him like a fanboy and bugging him every now and then.

12. MEETING SAM AT SAN DIEGO COMIC-CON

I had an in for meeting Sam Kieth. He lives in Sacramento, where I lived at the time, and I had gotten to know a very close, long-time friend of his, Tim Foster. I knew Tim had a love of comics, just like I did. When I started working on"The Lump" pages, I was eager to get advice from anyone who read comics, so I hunted him down to see what he thought. He was impressed that I had pounded out so many pages in the amount of time most aspiring comic artists would do one page, if they were lucky to finish it. So I got mentioned next time he spoke with Sam. Sam told him, "I can see we're going to have to kill this guy." Which I assume meant they were both impressed that I kept plugging along and getting work done. Tim told me Sam would be at the convention, and I looked forward to trying to find him.

At San Diego, my fiance, Elizabeth (I proposed at that very con) and I found him in the schedule listings, and sat in the front row of a packed "Interviewing Sam Kieth" panel discussion.

In the panel, he talked about how no one liked the look of his work when he was just getting started. People didn't think he could draw. Everyone would say, "You draw feet way too big," or whatever. But now, everyone says, "I love how you draw feet so big." Interesting how people's perceptions change over time.

He talked about the Maxx cartoon, and how he had nothing to do with it, but that the creators were real fans, and wanted to make the cartoon absolutely true to the comic. Sam actually felt that this was a bit of a detriment, how accurately they copied it. In comics, you have a full page, and one panel will be small because it's incidental, and then the next panel will be huge, because it's important and has to pack a punch. But you can't convey that in cartoons, and they would blow up the incidental, small panel, and it would feel different. And it would look sloppier than other images, because it wasn't meant to be seen with such emphasis. Interesting. You don't really think about stuff like that until people say it.

The interviewer would ask him a question, and he'd have really long, interesting answers, and then the interviewer would have to keep saying, "I'm sorry, but I have to cut you off, because we haven't gotten very far, and we only have an hour, and there were some other things I wanted to talk about."

Afterwards we followed him out with a mob of other fans. People were asking him to sign things, or telling him what a fan they were and how much his work meant to them. He walked really slowly while he visited. Elizabeth and I eventually worked our way to the front of the mob, and I introduced myself and told him, "We have a mutual friend. He told me you said you're going to have to kill me." He didn't realize I was joking. He was apologetic and embarrassed, even though I was just making an excuse to begin a conversation. He visited with us for awhile as we walked to his next event. I told him it would be great if he might ever have a chance to look at my stuff. I told him I assumed he would be busy during the con, but maybe back home. He wanted to see what I was doing, said he would be signing the next day, and that maybe we could plan to hook up once he was finished.

The next day, we popped over now and then to see how he was doing for his signing. There was a huge line, and it just never stopped the entire time. Sam was giving free sketches to everyone who waited in line. We could hear him saying things like, "Don't be ridiculous, you waited in line all this time, you get a sketch. Who do you want?" When his allotted time had run out, the DC booth-runners went up to the next person in line, and basically just said, Sorry, everyone from here back, but we need to make room for the next autographer, so all of you beat it. Sorry, you're out of luck.

Sam said the woman who had been cut off, who had obviously been waiting in line an hour or two, had such a look of despair and anguish, Sam immediately jumped up and told everyone in line, "No, no, everybody stay put. When they kick us out, we'll all go over to the food court. Everyone's getting a sketch." And sure enough, they kicked him out, and he rounded up the line, and marched them over to the food court, and he sat there and sketched for everyone for an additional hour, until everyone had their chance to meet him and get a sketch.

At this point he was running out of time. He quickly looked over my stuff. He said he thought it looked good, and he didn't have much advice except that I should think about self-publishing. Other people had given me this same advice, but it finally hit home now and began to plant a seed in my mind, here at the San Diego Con, after spending so much time waiting in portfolio review lines. He said, if you self-publish, then you have a finished, printed product, and that puts you head and shoulders above all these little punks waiting in line at these cons. Then editors will take you more seriously. Then people are more willing to publish your stuff, or even just look at it. He told me, back when he was doing the portfolio review thing, an editor once said, "Well you have to work on this and this and this," and tried to shrug him off Sam told him he'd done those things in the comics he'd had published, and here they were. The editor flipped through them, and said, "Oh, I didn't know you were published. Give me your card, and disregard all that stuff I was saying about your work earlier."

It was after this trip that I began seriously visualizing self-publishing, and piecing together the stories and structure of what would become my self-published "Tabloia Weekly Magazine."

Sam said he had to run, and we were leaving soon ourselves to catch a plane home, so we parted, packed and went to the airport. We assumed Sam had to go to another panel discussion or con-related event. But when we got to the airport, there was Sam, ready to board the same plane! So we sat together and visited some more for the flight back. I was nervous that sitting with him the whole trip, we would wear out our welcome, or run out of things to say. But Sam is such a sweet, friendly, approachable, and easy-to-talk-with guy, we had a blast. We learned his wife had a psychology background, just like my wife. Sam actually knows a lot about psychology as a result, and that got Elizabeth and him talking for the entire trip home. I would learn how heavily psychological his comics were, but not until later, because believe it or not, I hadn't read a Sam Kieth comic yet.

11.SAN DIEGO CON, SPOTTING AND MEETING ARTISTS

Everyone told me San Diego was amazing, and that everyone would be there. I just shrugged it off. "Yeah yeah, I'm sure you're right. I don't really care. I just want to show my portfolio to people." But I quickly found myself awe-stricken by so many great artists, just around everywhere. They're all doing signings. They're all hanging out at booths. They're all giving talks at panel discussions. They're all making sketches. They're all visiting. You just stumble onto them, wherever you go. I found myself getting really into hunting down particular people. What was craziest, you get the program, and it lists where a few people are and you get so excited to see they're all around somewhere, but it can't possibly list everyone and where they all are, so you wind up finding people in places you didn't even expect. Because everyone is just there, if not at a particular table, at a particular booth, then somewhere, just hanging out with someone.

We found a Sam Kieth panel listed in the program book. We wanted to meet him, because he was a friend of a friend of mine, and I figured that would get me an in. We sat in the very front, and then followed him afterwards among a mob of fans, and met him. My relationship with Sam has developed too much to get into here, climaxing with him asking me to do the art for his "Ojo" book. I'll write about my experiences with him later, when I can really go into detail.

Stumbled onto a Mike Allred signing at the Marvel booth. Waited in a very short line. The little boy in line in front of me handed Mike an X-Men book, and Mike was trying to explain to him, "I'll sign this if you want, but I didn't draw any of the art in it." The poor, cute little guy didn't seem to understand. Finally it was my turn, and I shook the hand of one of my favorite artists, Mike Allred, and told him I didn't bring anything for him to sign, but just wanted to let him know how much I loved his work. He said he didn't want me to leave empty-handed, grabbed a brochure advertising upcoming Marvel projects, including his X-Force book with Wolverine, and signed it for me. I couldn't read him very well. He had a look like maybe I said something that annoyed him, but I couldn't tell. I thought later, maybe it was just such a surreal, senses-assaulting environment, he just was getting frazzled. I still thought the experience was really special, not only that he was at this convention and available to his fans, but that he made sure I had something to take with me.

Went to an X-panel, which was hilarious. Joe Quesada had just started putting all these amazing indie artists on all Marvel's books, and it was really shaking things up, and I thought the results were magnificent. So this panel had Mike Allred, Grant Morrison, and Joe Casey from the "indie" school, and Chris Claremont and others from the mainstream, classic school. It was a peculiar audience, because half were hip, cool-looking college kids dressed like hip, cool-looking college kids (which is what I wished I was), and half were freaky nerd kids in Punisher costumes and other comic-nerdy get-up, with lacking social skills (which I was and certainly would have been at a con like this, if I'd only known of such a mecca). The cool kids were asking questions about indie guys on mainstream books. The geeks were asking specific questions about X-continuity and X-believability.

Chris was brand new getting back onto the X-books, and I think this was pretty exciting for everyone who grew up with him, including me. He was constantly making interjections and cracks to be funny, which I didn't enjoy as much. I love, LOVE his books, and admire his career and what he's done for comics very much. I grew up with all his eighties stories, and revered all the seventies issues, which were too hot and popular for me to ever find or afford. What I appreciated most about him was when he talked about his career. That was great to hear. He acknowledged that in the early eighties, there were a lot of great comics coming out. He said when Frank Miller was on Daredevil, and Walt Simonson was on Thor, those great books were really putting the pressure on him to create the best work he could produce as well.

Grant said that superhero costumes originally stemmed, way back in the late '30s-early '40s, from entertainment, specifically circus acts and strongmen. In today's society, that flashy, showy attitude isn't quite so practical. However, a costume can still have a function, if it's worn as a uniform. A symbol of recognition, like a police officer, or garbage man. Brilliant, I thought. And that's what he did with his X-books. He ditched the corny, bright-colored spandex, and gave the X-Men uniforms.

Some nerds in the con started asking questions about continuity and character development. The "indie" panelists would answer these questions by saying, "I don't know what you're talking about." Finally, one nerd asked, "How do you expect us to take your treatments of the X-Men seriously when you break all these rules?" Joe Casey masterfully replied, "How do you expect us to take ANY of it seriously?" The implication being, it's all just comics. It's all fun. The idea that people are running around in costumes and masks, doing good, and fighting each other, kind of throws the issue of "seriously" out the window. You know, like, there's a man flying through the air in his underpants, and beating up someone who must have the ultimate insecurity complex, because he won't rest until everyone on earth or in the galaxy will bow down to him, even though he's also in his underpants, as if that abstract concept would be good for anything.

Mike Allred spoke a little about how his first X-issue caused the Comics Code support banner to be removed from the book, because the story ended with a disturbing, violent image. Mike said he thought it was great. They were afraid it would affect sales, but the book was so hot it sold out fast and went immediately into a second printing. Hurray for the indie-guys shaking up the system, and making work that angers, frustrates, and confuses people!

In the panel, a few nerds wanted to know why these indie artists couldn't just follow a little continuity, and be true to the characters of the stories. New X-Editor Axel Alonso spoke out that there are half a dozen X-books that already do that. If that's what you want, the indie guys aren't taking that away from you. They're just trying to offer an alternative. Bravo, I say!

After the panel, all the artists dispersed, and I was surprised to see Grant was hanging out in the hall, visiting with anyone who came over to talk to him. I thought that was so great, and he was so friendly and appreciative of his fans. I told him I don't always agree with his politics (Why do I say things like that?), but I think it's a blast that he's shaking things up with mainstream comics. He said, "Yeah, you take the children sweetly by the hand, and lead them into a dark, scary place." He was really excited about doing the X-Men. He said, "Yeah, it's the X-Men, man!" as if he couldn't believe he'd landed the best Marvel gig of them all. He was such a treat to visit with. He's so friendly, and seems to genuinely love just taking as much time as is needed, being there for his fans, and visiting with his fans.

Found Tim Sale in artists alley, and was nervous to approach him again, after our first meeting that I suspect he thought I was accusing him of being a Frank Miller hack.

I opened by asking him what his favorite film noir was, and that got him talking. He said he was a Burt Lancaster fan and loved the Killers. He said he also really liked Barbara

Stanwyck. He recommended watching "Sorry, Wrong Number," which I hadn't seen. This noir angle gave me an in. It was an in I continued using whenever I saw him. A couple years later, I was able to tell him that a two disc "Killers" set was just released on DVD, a Criterion double-feature disc with the Ronald Reagan/Lee Marvin film as well as the original.

He said of the Long Halloween sequel that he never had much interest in doing a gangster comic, and didn't even want to do a Long Halloween sequel, but that Jeph Loeb came up with a story, more character-driven, that surprised him, because it interested him in doing a sequel. And then up walked Jeph, so I was able to get them both to sign my Long Halloween issue I'd brought.

Man, by the end of the con, my feet were killing me. We must have walked miles and miles during the course of the convention, back and forth, and back and forth, and back. Over and over. I was paying for it within a few days. I learned the advantage of insoles, and that helped, but so much damage had already been done. Also luckily, our hotel had a hot tub, and we spent our nights soaking and rubbing our feet.

I'll tell you what I think is so amazing about the comics industry. In Hollywood, how likely is it that you can go to annual conventions and meet all your idols, and it may be a long wait in line, but you can just walk right up to them and shake their hand, and tell them how much you appreciate them?

This convention, I began to realize how, even though they're superstars to me, in the real world, they still have their civilian lives. They can go to the grocery store and no one will recognize them or care who they are. They probably appreciate getting a little praise and recognition at conventions, but then being able to go home and live normal lives. They don't mind being so accessible, because it's not an imposition to them. What a great industry, that fans have that access to their idols.

10. SAN DIEGO COMIC-CON 2001

I went to San Diego with forty-eight completed pages of the Lump, in sharpie.

Elizabeth was so great. She was enjoying herself so much at the con. She would offer to wait in line for me, so that I could go listen to a panel, or go take notes at a panel while I was in line for a portfolio review. She was so willing to try and help out, since she knew how important all this was to me. She loved people-watching. She kept talking about how, Look, there's a place for everyone, that they can go and feel like they belong.

ONI Portfolio Review

Watching all the reviews ahead of us, we saw they were quite kind and tried to give meaningful, helpful advice. The editor looked over my stuff, and tried to give positive feedback of what he liked, and make criticisms of things to work on. He said some of my figural forms looked awkward to him. He signaled out a panel of two characters pointing at each other and shouting. I told him it was my John Woo homage, but he didn't even smile. He suggested I might take some figure drawing classes. When we left, he suggested, if I wanted to leave a package, he could keep it with his files. I started to get a package together, but was thinking about how I'd seen him take packages from everyone. I said something polite, but that basically asked, "Would it really do any good to leave this with you? I mean, you don't really look at these packages, do you?" Because even though he was very courteous and polite, and willing to take the time to do these reviews, I just got this vibe that he wasn't going to be looking at any of these packages again, if he didn't throw them out. And he kind of looked at me, like he was taken a little aback, and answered something polite that basically told me, No, it won't really do any good. The moment I asked, I realized what his no meant. It meant, even if I do look at these packages, I'm sure in the hell not gonna bother to look at anything you leave me... now.

Valuable lesson. This industry is so tiny, you better be as polite as you can to everyone you meet, and say, Yes sir, to whatever they say. Because they'll still be there for the rest of the time you're still trying to find work. So whether you're a prick or they're a prick, you won't be getting in so long as they stay in the industry, and they'll remember you.

As if I didn't make myself into a big enough moronic asshole in the eyes of Oni Press, I asked something about sending submissions to them, and when to expect to hear back. And I was just trying to be funny, and did an impression of a stalking psycho, saying, "Why didn't you write back??!?" But the editor shrank back and winced, with a glaze of fear in his eyes, like he thought I was going to jump over the table and grab him by the throat. I smiled to show I was joking, and he smiled with relief, finally getting the joke. And I left, thinking to myself, Good work, Chris. Now I can look forward to never getting work for Oni Press.
Darkhorse Review

Darkhorse recommended going to a seminar they held before getting your portfolio reviewed. Randy Stradley gave a lot of information I found very interesting and helpful. He said you have to have two of three things to make it in the industry. The three things are 1. Being able to work fast, 2. Being a nice guy, and 3. Being a good artist. He said if you're a nice guy, and you're really good, but you're slow, you can still make it in comics. If you're not that good, but you're fast, and and you're nice, you can make it. But if you're an asshole, and you work slow, even if you're hot shit, no one will hire you. He pointed out, like every editor I've spoken to, that editors are just doing their job, and if they say something you don't like, don't take it personally. Just look for a different editor that nurses you and appreciates or understands your style. If you get pissed and snap at them, or if you argue with them about their critique of your work, they're going to remember you. And they're going to remember you were a prick, and it won't matter if your art gets better over time. The industry is way too small to be an asshole, and it will come back on you. There are only so many editors, and once you've pissed a few of them off, you're just shooting yourself in the foot, because they'll be around, and also they're all friends with each other, and it will be no trouble at all for them to prevent you from getting in.

While waiting for my portfolio review at Darkhorse, we befriended a very sweet young seventeen-year old, who had come out from the Midwest. And he was very talented. His art looked great, his stories were quite sophisticated. From the sound of it, he'd flown out to this big con for the first time, hoping to just come out and land work. I sympathized with his hopefulness, now that I'd had a few years of portfolio reviews at Wondercon.

We bumped into this kid later, and you could tell he was beginning to feel that familiar portfolio review despair. However, he had gotten a good sign from Oni. They had given him a special "secret business card," which he was told to copy and affix to the outside of a submission envelope. The implication was that Oni received all these submissions, and just tossed it all in the garbage unopened. But with this secret signal card identifier, they would know it was okay to open up this particular package. I didn't get a card, and so I knew they were definitely not interested in me. Of course I already knew that...

I saw a horrible thing waiting in line for Darkhorse. It was a maybe late-twenties guy with a big stack of papers...obviously a script. He was up at the table, and we watched him sit nervously down, make his pitch, get a couple words of advice, shake hands, get up and walk off. And obviously, even though I couldn't hear a word, the editor had told him how hard it is to get into comics as a writer, how no one really looks at your stuff, how he wasn't planning to look at the guy's stuff, and on and on, like we've all heard and had to bear.

But the horrible part was that then his wife and two very little kids came up to see how things went, and they were all so obviously hopeful about their guy becoming the comic book guy, and they were all standing there giving him big hugs. Sweetest saddest thing, knowing what he must have been going through.

I actually enjoyed my Darkhorse review with Phil Amara. I loved his Nevermen with Guy Davis, although I didn't realize he had written them until after the review. He was kind and sympathetic, and seemed to like my work all right. He gave me his contact info. I sent him more stuff and emailed him, but I never heard back from him. I wondered if he was even still working for Darkhorse.

DC Review

DC was also giving portfolio review panels. If you wanted you portfolio reviewed, you were required to go to the panel, and listen to their hour presentation of what they're looking for, and what to expect. Then, at the end, they gave out lottery tickets for the privilege of a portfolio review, later in the day. A lot of kids went three days in a row, and had to listen to that goddamn presentation three times, and still didn't get their winning lottery numbers for the review (I suspect DC finally let them just have a review out of pity.)

I actually found the talk helpful. Mark Chiarello gave this talk. I was familiar with and admired his artwork. He discussed the kinds of submissions they want, and the format they want it in. It put things in better perspective, seeing the people who would give reviews. Like Darkhorse, he said they were editors, and their day jobs are editing and getting books ready to print, not looking through the stacks of submissions they get every week. Sure, they could look for new talent, and they might even find someone great (You never know. They might). But it's easier, and more efficient and reliable if they just hire artists who have done professional work, whose work they know, and whose work ethics they already know from experience that they can rely on. Why should he hire an unknown artist who does a nice sort of Simon Bisley style, if he can just hire Simon Bisley. He said that every convention, he finds a dozen artists with potential, and maybe half of them he gives contact info to, and maybe three of them he thinks might really be good to work with. But that doesn't mean these three are going to get work. Because it depends on how many books are available month to month, and it depends on if these new artists would be good for the book in question. You just never know. The bottom line is that it's a tough industry to get work, but keep pushing, and keep calling, and keep trying. And don't be a jerk, and don't get impatient, because that will just insure you never get work.

So we listened all the way through the talk, and then they passed out tickets for the review. If you got your ticket, you were assigned an hour time block, during which time you'd go to the DC booth and wait in line again, and then they'd look at your stuff. What a goddamn pain in the ass, but of course we went along with all this bullshit, because it's all we could do.

At my allotted time, I went down to the portfolio review line, and was told there were two choices. I chose a Vertigo editor, because obviously my stuff isn't really superheroic. So I waited in line, started to show my stuff, and this editor began telling me to pay more attention to detail. Obviously, he wasn't particularly interested in my style. He looked through maybe three or four pages. Then he stopped looking, and kind of suggested I work on this, and I work on that. He recommended picking an object each day to draw, and fill a page with that object each day. Draw clocks one day. Draw couches the next day. It's a great exercise, I agree, and I think about it whenever I'm looking for objects to fill my panels with. It's good advice, but I wanted to show him some examples of objects I put into some other pages. I began to turn through the portfolio, but he wasn't interested anymore, and he wasn't even looking. He just literally shut my portfolio, with my hands still in it, and shooshed me on my way. I found his review hurried, uninterested in what I was trying to do, and not very helpful, and I was so pissed.

On a sudden whim of naughtiness, I went to the opposite side of the DC booth, where the other editor was reviewing. I unfairly pushed to the front of the line, because my slip of paper said I had to be there within a certain hour, and my hour slot was just about up. And never mind that I'd already gotten my review. I sat down with Alex Sinclair, who I learned was a colorist for Wildstorm. I thought to myself, "This guy isn't even an editor. He's just a colorist. What the hell am I getting a review from him about? How the hell could I possibly land work from a colorist? What a joke! What bullshit!" But he was so kind, and it turned out, he was making his way fast up the Wildstorm ladder. So I take it all back, colorist portfolio reviewers! My apologies!

He really looked at my artwork and tried to give me helpful advice. I showed him the first few pages of "The Lump" on the freeway, and the sequence where Lance DeLaney follows Moe Beckett to the Body Barn. I felt Alex really wanted to help me. He really took time to listen and look at my work.

I told him I had tried sending my work to the DC offices, and never heard anything back from anyone, not even a form letter. He gave me his email and told me to send him a copy of my stuff, and he would get it onto the desk of an editor. What a kind gesture. I did as he said, and he told me did what he promised. I of course still never heard back from anyone, but it always meant a lot to me that he was willing to do this for me.

Overall, I felt pretty good about my portfolio experiences. I learned a lot, and got plenty of good advice to consider for the next year. And I met people, who I assumed would be back again the following year, and I could show them how I'd continued to work, and hopefully also improved. It would be a long-term struggle to get in, but I'd keep trying, and now I had a couple ins, small as they were. we are.

9. PRE-SAN DIEGO 2001 AND GETTING ENGAGED

When I met Elizabeth, she had just gotten out of a serious, long-term relationship. Her boyfriend was a good guy, but he always said he wasn't sure if he would ever want to get married. E finally decided, I can't wait for you to decide what you want or don't want, and she broke up. She decided from now on, any relationship she was in, she would give the guy two years to decide if she was the one he wanted to marry. She decided, a person should know within two years if they want to spend their lives together or not. That's enough time to get to know who a person is. So when we began dating, the clock began ticking.

While we were down in San Diego, the two-year alarm clock would go off. As the trip approached, I was getting really excited and feeling really close to her, because I had picked out a ring and knew I would be proposing down there. It was kind of dirty, but I chose to wait until the last minute, because I thought that would make it a little more special, to be away on a trip for the proposal.

But she was getting irritable and upset. She knew I knew the ultimatum was coming, and she was convincing herself to break up with me. She thought, "I hope this guy doesn't think I'll break my own rules. I gave him two years, and I love him, but I can't wait for someone again."

We headed out to the airport to begin our trip. I had my little portfolio with the first forty-eight pages of "The Lump." I'd shown the first twenty-four pages to editors at APE, so I knew how the portfolio review worked. I knew what to expect. And I knew that this was the biggest convention in America, and that there'd be plenty of publishers to show my work. I planned to approach DC and Darkhorse for sure, and then maybe just see who else was there. I thought I'd also approach Oni, maybe Fantagraphics and Top Shelf, and look for Caliber, who I wouldn't learn until later had gone out of business.

On the drive out to the airport, Elizabeth looked over our flight schedule and realized she'd misread it, and that we'd already missed our flight. Great start for putting her in a bad mood, for a vacation she was already gearing up not to enjoy, since she was going to have to break up with me. I, on the other hand, am thinking, ah, who cares? So we missed a flight? I'm in love, and I'm going to ask this girl to marry me.

After checking in, we caught the next flight, which actually wasn't much of a wait. We got to San Diego, took a bus to our hotel, and realized our hotel reservation had been for a month earlier. Somehow the wrong day had been reserved. They scolded us for requesting the state worker rate (Elizabeth works for the state, but the woman at the desk demanded she know if E was doing business this weekend.) We were finally given a very small smokers room (we don't smoke, and Elizabeth is allergic) that reeked of cigarette smell. To allay the reek, they gave us an anti-smell spray in a janitor-style spray bottle. We would spray it in the air, and on our bed covers and pillows, and then our bed covers and pillows would be soaking wet with the smell of fake-flower not quite overpowering cigarette smoke.

We walked through town toward the convention. It was a cute town, and we found a restaurant for lunch. Elizabeth wasn't particularly excited to be down at the convention. She thought maybe she'd go to the con for a day, and then maybe go to a movie or go shopping or get her nails done, or try and find something to pass the time for the rest of the weekend. Originally she envisioned reading or watching tv at the hotel, but now she knew the less time she could spend there, the better.

We got to the con, and E took my picture arriving at my first "big" con. At least, my first big con with her. My first big con, understanding the industry now, and legitimately making a pitch as a comics artist. It felt just like the Wondercons I'd been to before, except that it was ENORMOUS. It would take ten or twenty minutes to hustle from one end of the hall to the other. People were in mobs, everywhere. Everyone was dressed as Superheroes or manga or Alien or Terminator, or weird make-up, or just costumes you don't even recognize. But all the costumes were REALLY GOOD. And really crazy. It was just SO HUGE.

There weren't just a bunch of comics bins, like the conventions I was used to. There was every kind of toy you could imagine, and all kinds of videos, and t-shirts, and people selling posters and mugs and bobble-heads and models and original artwork. There were video games lying out everywhere for everyone to play. Everyone had enormous displays. There were huge Superman displays and Batman displays and realistic life-size models actors for their latest movies. EVERYTHING was SO HUGE. It was like the ultimate fantasy of a ten-year-old boy, selling everything he could imagine he really needs in his wildest dreams.

As we're spending time in the hall, Elizabeth is enjoying herself more and more. The whole atmosphere is so stimulating and exhausting and bizarre. There is such an odd and huge mass of people. Elizabeth joked that it made her realize, whatever kind of person you are, there is a place for you somewhere. There is an ass for every saddle.

So by the end of the first day, Elizabeth had such a great time, she can't wait to go back. She isn't interested in getting her hair done or going shopping any more. She wants to hang out in the convention, and people watch. And observe the sheer insanity of it all.

That night we went to a nice Thai Restaurant, and having been on our feet all day, trudging for miles, we're both exhausted and ready for bed. We had a nice dinner, and afterwards I told her, Hey, why don't we take a walk down by the water.

So now she thinks something fishy is going on. Could it be...? Why would he want to go down to the pier if we're both so tired? So we walked down, and I've got a ring in my pocket that I've had for a couple weeks, and I'm trying to look for a nice place I can propose since I've never been down here before, and it's dark, and there are kids everywhere, down for the convention.

Finally we find a nice place over by a pier that seems quiet enough, but it's kind of in the dark. I pull out the ring, and right then a mass of maybe a dozen kids comes walking up. I quickly and embarrassedly propose without even getting on my knees because I'm so embarrassed, and Elizabeth says yes and we hurry off away from the kids. She puts the ring on her finger, and it's huge, it's way too big. She could probably fit two fingers in it. And she keeps trying to get a look at it, but she can't see it because it's so dark. The only lights or lamps are in the ground by stairs and along walkways, so people know where to walk. Elizabeth is holding her hand down against the ground by these lights to try and see what her ring looks like.

And we get back to our smelly hotel and go to bed, and right outside our window for some reason there just happens to be a block party going on, with rap music blasting on enormous speakers, and a DJ having people participate by clapping and yelling. And we go to bed, engaged. Having gotten engaged at San Diego Comic-Con International, of all places. What fucking nerds. How embarrassing. To this day, I'm ashamed when people ask how we got engaged, especially if they're comics nerds like we are.

8. SHOPPING THE LUMP, and APE-CON 2001

By February 21st, 2000, I had written a proposal for "The Lump," and even sent it to Vertigo Comics. I of course didn't get any form of response. With all this continued lack of interest for any scripts I tried to show, describe, or send, I started thinking about drawing. I had a finished copy of inked, lettered pages completing "The Lump #1," which ended up being the first two chapters in the published version. This I mailed myself, certified, on January 19th, 2001. The package also contained finished scripts for issues two and three, which completed the story. That's practically a year it took me, between sending out a proposal, completing the scripts, and finishing the first issue. That's a long time, but to my credit, I drew the first issue twice, once as 8 1/2" x 11" fully-realized layouts.

So now I had the first chapter of the Lump, twenty-four pages, and a convention to show it off. APE.

Talking with friends, I had been told there are tons of indie companies who I should talk to, and try and see if anyone would publish my stuff. At the con, I realized, sure, all these people are "self-publishers," but they're not really "publishers." It became clear they were all basically just guys like me who drew a full story, but then they took money out of their own bank account to print their own stuff. They're not looking for people with stories and art. They can't even afford to print their own stuff. So walking through the convention, I found myself passing by pretty much everyone there, and looking for companies that actually put out a number of books by a number of different people. I was familiar with all the names of the bigger companies. I also looked for a few other companies, who it turned out had gone out of business. I just assumed they must be based on the East Coast, and kept looking for them at the next few conventions.

I spoke with Fantagraphics and left a package with them. I spoke with Slave Labor, who gave a kind, thoughtful review, and basically said I need to vary my line quality. They knew I was using sharpies, and thought I should be using brushes or pens.

Fantagraphics actually sent me a rejection letter for the package I had left with them, which I very much appreciated. They hand-wrote a little note that, although they thought my art was just okay, they thought the story was good. They recommended I submit it to the Xeric Grant. I was encouraged by this small act of kindness. I had heard that if an editor takes the time to send more than a typed form letter, they saw a little something in your work.


I had also heard of the Xeric Grant from a friend, and it sounded like a very generous opportunity, but I had no interest in self-publishing. Although this letter probably planted that first self-publishing seed...

Jaime and Mario Hernandez were there. I listened to an interview they gave. What fascinated me was their description of each having their own projects, and deciding to end Love and Rockets to do their own things. But sales on all their individual projects paled compared to their Love and Rockets books. They attributed it to name recognition, especially from bookstores, who would see the "Love and Rockets" name and just order a few books. That's why they decided to bring the book back, in its new, smaller format. But within the pages, they all just continued to do their individual projects. It got me thinking about an umbrella title, which I could use for years and years. A title that could epitomize any story I might want to tell. Daniel Clowes did it for Eightball. I eventually decided I liked the name, "Tabloia."

I went to Oni, but they were too busy and not doing portfolio reviews. I was intrigued that they seemed to be a young, hip company, and their work seemed most like what I was doing, since they had just put out a film noir-looking book, Whiteout.

I showed my pages to Scott McCloud. I considered him the sort of Guru of How To Draw Comics. I don't know why. He politely flipped through, and seemed to enjoy two sequences. The Lindsay-Lance exchange through the chained-closed door, and the Morelli-Gomez exchange in the police station with all the blinds. He recommended trying to add more texture to images. I explicitly remember him discussing this topic in his book. Somehow, I expected more comments and advice from him.

I was too intimidated to try and go to Top Shelf or Drawn and Quarterly.

I felt frustrated, not really knowing how to approach companies, or how to try to get work.

I recognized Brent Anderson wandering around, looking at all the indie books. I had met him at a local Sacramento convention, and a local Sacramento store signing. I stopped him and introduced myself, and mentioned I was having trouble getting anyone to look at my stuff, and he said, "Well open it up. Let's see it." And he took the time to go through my work, and give me some words of encouragement. He gave me more attention than any of the editors at the con combined, and it was very empowering. He talked about his latest book, a hardcover, self-contained Green Lantern story, that Bill Sienkiewicz would ink. He and Bill used to share a studio, and he told me how Bill's work at that time looked a lot like Neal Adams's work.

He asked if I knew what caused Bill's art hitting the stage that it became "Sienkiewicz." I told him I assumed it was drugs, similar to how the Beatles reached that place when their music really reached new heights. Brent said that Bill didn't do any drugs, and that drugs were not what caused Bill's art to blossom, as far as he knew. I felt pretty embarassed blurting something inappropriate out like that, but he continued his story.

Brent had told Bill, if you don't want to look like Neal Adams, start looking at a LOT of art (something I learned in art school from Wayne Thiebaud), and incorporate ALL your favorite artists and styles into your comics work. According to Brent, Bill's next comic was the issue of Moon Night where Bill's art really began becoming its own, I'm guessing around number fourteen, but it may have been later.

Brent kindly gave me his contact info and asked me to send him my stuff, so he could look at it in greater detail and offer some advice. I thought he was so kind to give me so much of his time, and to be so friendly and talkative and supportive. It was a great, important gesture for me, and I really appreciated it. And especially that it would come from an established artist, whose "Astro Cities" were such a hit.

7. THE LUMP

I had almost finished my first comic book script, an impressive seven issue (175 page) story called "Limbo Cafe," and as I've felt I often give up and don't complete things, so I didn't complete this. At the time my friend from art school, Damon Thompson, had said he would draw Limbo Cafe, but it was unrealistic because it's too big a commitment, not to mention his schedule had become too busy just trying to graduate from U.C. Davis. On top of that, I couldn't get any comics companies to look at my scripts, and I didn't know any other artists, and 175 pages was too overwhelming for me to comprehend doing myself, so my interest in the project began to wane, and other ideas started floating around in my head. I had been seeing images of a body found on a freeway with someone else's head sewn on it, and of a grave-digger who was an innocent victim of circumstance. That really made me laugh when I thought of it, for some reason. Maybe it wasn't quite as funny in execution...

This was "The Lump."

Due to my limited options, and it being a significantly smaller project (originally slated at 75 pages) I grew increasingly intrigued (or resigned) to draw this particular story myself. But 75 pages is still a lot, and I didn't want to get too bogged down "wasting time" with drawing. (I slyly envisioned going to portfolio reviews as a ruse, using the time it took editors to look at the pages to pitch my story. I've generally felt I'm a much better, more confident writer than artist.) To keep the pressure lower, I made the decision to draw amateurishly simplistic artwork. I rationalized to myself, people will like the interesting combination of crude artwork and often graphically disturbing medical and horror descriptions. And I never did get graphic or explicit with the artwork, even in the end.

I had of course read Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics and Will Eisner's Comics and Sequential Art at this time, both of which were great. But the advice I found most helpful was Dave Sim's title pages for Cerebus on how to self-publish (Which I believe are collected in a comic he titled "How to Self-Publish." The advice that really made sense to me was, don't get bogged down. If you draw a shitty drawing, don't fix it, draw another one and make it better as a result of what you learned. And keep drawing and drawing and experimenting and learning, and after about one or two hundred pages you should start to get a feel for it, and get a rhythm for it. That made sense to me.

Now I've read a lot of comics, and sometimes, especially in larger bodies of work, an artist's vision doesn't seem fully realized when s/he begins the work, and the characters and the feel of the book completely evolve over time into something different. And of course that's what eventually happens with all artists, because they grow and learn while they work. But I wanted to try and at least minimalize this as best I could, so I began sketching out the characters over and over, to try and get a feel for them. I published a number of these sketches in the Lump Trade Paperback.

When I thought I was getting into a rhythm and understanding of who would be in the stories, I did some layouts of panels, then of the pages (also published in the trade). This I began in pencil, and finally filled in with sharpies. I was most interested in trying to use blacks to define the shapes of forms, rather than get all bogged down with perfect renderings. I liked the idea of a clumsy, thick, consistent line quality where foreground and background alike were treated with equal width. I thought it would make an interesting artistic experiment, because even the thick-line artists I loved (notably Mike Allred) would use thin lines inside the thicks for detail. This artistic experiment failed, as you can see with these early sketches. But most of all I enjoyed trying to give a feeling of depth to a two-dimensional piece of paper, with thick blacks, thick lines, and a little white poking through, and nothing else.

I knew I wanted a dark, film-noir-style world, and wanted to use as much black as possible. I found that in pencil my compositions worked okay, but when I filled in the blacks, they were often heavier than I anticipated and felt crooked to the eye. This took some experimenting with, so that many of my early sketches were covered with black, then re-covered with white-out, then blacked back in again, until I could reach a balanced feel.

I did the pages of the story in order. After five pages like this, I felt confident enough of how the blacks were working, and stopped inking, content to see the layouts in pencil. And this I continued for twenty-four pages into the story. Again, these were all sketches on 8 1/2 x 11" typing paper with sharpies, and I kept going because in my head this would ensure the art wouldn't change over time. The original concept was for the story to be told in three 24-page issues, so this was the first issue completely sketched out.

I decided I was ready to begin the "actual" comic. This I did on 11x17" Bristol, but I continued to use sharpies. Interestingly, the lines no longer seemed as thick, since I continued to use the same thickness of marker, but the pages had become twice as big. Also, I quickly found that the proportion of width to height was different on typing paper than on bristol. On the typing paper, each panel was much wider. Not only that, but as I redrew my layouts, faces changed expression or proportion, and often I was happier with the original sketches than the "actual" pages, or at the least they were both different. And even though the artwork did evolve over the course of these twenty-four pages, I would just copy the evolution all over again going through the pages. And worst of all, not only was the art crude, but the compositions were depressingly so. Some I would change from my original sketches as I went, but often not making the pages any better. I just kept plugging away through those 24 pages I had already sketched, and making the best of them I could. Overall, I still found myself reasonably pleased. Maybe since I didn't know any better. I rationalized that I WANTED simplistic art and compositions.

I shopped these pages to APE-Con in San Francisco, and most editors of indie publishing companies felt the art was so-so. So I went home and kept plugging away.

I decided I had an all right feel for the book by now, and just went for it with the following 24 pages, without preliminary sketches. And now I was two-thirds finished.

Taking these pages to my first trip to San Diego's Comic-Con and shopping it to editors, I became very intrigued by Alex Sinclair's suggestion to try a few four-page stories, just as exercises. They're not such a big commitment, but they still force you to tell a story with a beginning, a conflict, and a resolution, and practice narrative storytelling. This gave me a break from "The Lump," and before I'd done a couple Dr. DeBunko and a couple Dick Hammer stories, I was beginning to re-visualize "The Lump." I had met Dick Ayers at the Con, and we began collaborating on Doris Danger stories as well.

Also, I'd met Sam Kieth, and he, like everyone else, was saying how it's tough to get published until you've been published. He said he would talk to editors who wouldn't look at his work, and then he'd mention he was published, and they'd suddenly look at him and say, "Oh, disregard everything I said. Let's see what we can do for you."

Up until this moment, I REALLY didn't want to self-publish. I knew it would be all this extra work, and I wanted to just focus on the writing and the drawing. But when Sam suggested it, I guess it finally just sunk in. I guess that's what I'm going to have to do.

Now I was thinking, "The Lump" is a horror story, and has a noir sensibility, but more than that, it's a story of our pop-culture's fascination with horror stories. And I realized I wanted to use more photo-reference with the characters involved. If all the characters are stereotypes of these genres of stories, I should photo-reference these types of characters straight out of the movies I'm referring to thematically. I made a list of all the characters in "The Lump," and who I would want to play them, if I had access to all of history's actors. And of course most of them came from the '30s horror films or '40s film noirs. Even with photo reference, I decided to keep the same use of black, and thick lines, but I switched to brush and ink, which all the editors said I should use instead of sharpie, and with which I found myself clumsy and inarticulate. I found pages felt more frantic and stifled with more panels per page, and experimented (when I was brave) with some compositions. Although most of them, once I had an image in my head, it was hard to break free of.

Partially because my skill wasn't good enough, and partially because I did try and alter people somewhat (giving clean-shaven actors mustaches, or baldness, for example) almost none of my drawings wound up looking like the actors I had in mind, and certainly no one mentioned once the stories came out that they recognized who the characters were supposed to be (except for one). But by now, this was my third time drawing these damn pages, and I was ready to get them out in print.

6. MY FIRST WONDERCONS SHOPPING SCRIPTS

There's something about this industry. I don't know what it is. But all of us who have read comics and love comics get this idea in our head that if we're just good writers, it shouldn't be too tough to get a job as a comics writer. Maybe we think it's an easier industry than film or literature to get into. Or maybe we think it's a lower art form, and therefore we have a chance at it. We think we could write a story as good as all the published comics out there, and the companies will be wining and dining and fawning all over us and begging us to let them start using our stories.

I remember how hopeful I was, that Oakland, CA Wondercon in April 1997, because I thought I had a decent story, and I'd shown it to friends, and everyone was so impressed. I had my scripts for the first three issues of Limbo Cafe. I somehow had it in my head, I would be able to just walk up to DC, and ask for an editor at Vertigo, and tell them my story idea, and maybe leave a script with them if they weren't blown off their feet right there. Then they'd spend a few minutes reading my script and see how good I was. I'd immediately get that phone call, and I'd be on my way with my comics career.

You know, you kind of know it isn't going to work that way, but you build things up in your head. You want it to happen that way, because you work so hard. And you put in so much time, so you just kind of hope, now it will all pay off.

I'd gotten a fortune cookie the night before, and I remember it made me even more confident. I can't remember now what it said, but it was something along the lines of, You will try a new business venture and become successful beyond your dreams, or A new career will bring new fortunes, or something like that.

I went up to DC, and I asked about a Vertigo editor, and they said, you may want to talk to Axel Alonso if you're doing a crime or horror style of Vertigo, or Julie Rottenberg for more of a fantasy Vertigo. Julie was busy at the moment, so I walked right up to Axel. I was shocked. I knew his name, and hers. I knew what books they did, and I couldn't believe I was dealing with them. It's amazing how accessible all your comics heroes are at comics conventions. You just walk right up to all these names you know, and there they are, and they talk to you just like that.

I tried to pull out my script submission package. He said editors can't really look at written submissions at cons, because it takes too long and too much is going on. So he didn't look at anything I had. I tried to give him a package, but he wouldn't take it. He said he would just lose it at the con, so he recommended I send it to the DC offices. He told me how many submissions they get every week, and it's not easy to go through, but they do occasionally hire new writers.

Looking back, I'm pretty sure he mentioned the Gangland anthology they had just put out or were about to put out, and a young newcomer they too a chance on named Brian Azzarello. You history buffs and Azzarello fans can look that one up.

Axel recommended, "You need to be able to sum up your story in a quick sentence," and he was ready to send me on my way. I asked if I could give him my catch line. He obviously didn't want to hear it, kind of paused like, "How is the best way to handle this?" Finally he said, All right.

So I thought, okay, here we go. This is it. Comics career, here I come. Prepare to be dazzled.

"It's about an atheist who dies and finds himself in a Christian afterlife." Another pause. Then he began telling me how they deal with that premise in Garth Ennis's Preacher, and they're doing it a little in the Sandman books. And he sent me on my way. It occurred to me, when I make a pitch like that, people probably assume I'm a judgemental, prissy Christian preacher planning to proselytize some moralizing tale of how Heaven kicked that stupid atheist's ass down to Hell, and he regretted it while he burned and suffered for the rest of eternity, and boy did he wish he'd been a Christian, amen.

It seems like Darkhorse had been at this convention in the past, but maybe they weren't there that year, or at least I didn't go talk with anyone. And Marvel, it seems, was never at this convention. So I didn't know who else to try and go talk to, so I didn't really go anywhere else.

I found a time when Julie Rottenberg was available, and she was much sweeter and gentler, and tried to give some general advice on how to structure story proposals and such. She spoke with me a little longer than Axel, but basically said the same things. A crushing, devastating weekend.

Looking back, I'm very aware that Axel was perfectly gentlemanly, and a real sport to be out there looking at the scripts and giving advice to morons such as myself. But when you're this close to it, if feels really devastating.

I didn't realize how upset I was until I got home and got in an argument with my girlfriend, who's an artist, and six years older than me. She pointed out that being an artist is awful sometimes, because we want it to work out, but then you just get dealt these real-world blows that put you in your place. But if it's what you love, you'll just keep doing it anyways, and working harder at it, and maybe someday it'll go somewhere, and maybe it won't, and you'll either keep trying because you love it, or lose interest. It was a painful lesson, but so nice that she had been through these same rejections, and could show me that it's just part of the process. So I kept writing, and waited for the next cons.

The next year I brought my scripts again, but wasn't really interested in pitching things anymore. I didn't have the strength to get a bunch more rejections. I went to DC once more, and there was Alisa Kwitney, who I knew edited Sandman. Wow! Amazing. You just walk up, and they're friendly and courteous and there for you, and they treat you like a person. It's unreal, the access that the comics industry gives you to its stars. You couldn't do this with your favorite singer or actress or sports star. There's nothing like the comics industry that I know of. No other "celebrity" medium allows you such contact.

This time I approached with a doomed attitude. She was very sympathetic and sweet, and basically just nodded an ascent to my "You're not really looking at any scripts, are you?" She said, it's really difficult to read scripts, but if I can get it in comics form, it's easy to flip through a comic and get an idea of the story, and of the writer's storytelling ability. She said what's most important is that a writer shows he can tell a story with a beginning, a middle, and an end. It sounds really stupid, but you've got to have an idea. What is the story, how does it start. And it's got to go somewhere, and keep you interested going there. And it's got to resolve itself. She said a lot of new writers come up with great ideas but don't know how to finish them. A lot of older writers can write a story just fine, but they can't come up with ideas any more. You've got to be able to start, middle, and finish it.

The seemingly least helpful advice most everyone seemed to give was, If you want to be published, you should have a published product first.

The conundrum here is, how do you get published if you have to be published first? But many artists in the industry either self-publish, or began with a small company, and slowly worked their ways up. If you have something in print, it shows commitment (with time, money, or the faith of someone else in your work), dedication (to plow through and actually finish and get into print the project), storytelling (because if it's in print, it has to be a full story, or at least a full chapter), and a nice package to display what your work is capable of, the overall quality, and the consistency of the quality. It's a much better sample of your work than a few drawings in a binder.

Eventually, my attempts at shopping Limbo Cafe petered out. Having collected and read a stack of "story submissions guidelines" packets from different companies, I changed my plan of attack.

April 16, 1998, I sent myself a ceritifed package of ten story proposals for Vertigo-type stories. I did this to prove that I had come up with these stories on or before that date, in case there was any question of copyright ownership. All the stories were ideas I eventually planned to tell in Limbo Cafe. I planned to start shopping these to DC or Darkhorse, and see if they would be less overwhelmed by short proposals sent in the small, minimal format that they recommended in their guidelines. A cover letter, a page of story idea description, and a few pages of sample script. I reasoned, if they liked one of these stories, then while I worked with them and built a relationship with my new editor, it would be easy enough to get them excited about the whole Limbo Cafe series. (Ah, innocent naivite!) I think I probably took some of these to conventions but never showed them to anyone. I did, however, send a few of them to DC. I fantasized about sending them to all the editors, a new one every week, so that hopefully one of the editors would have to take note. I sent a couple, never heard from anyone, and got too intimidated about sending more, or even bugging anyone at any other comics conventions. I began to think about new stories I wanted to tell.

December 2, 1998, I was maybe a minute late witnessing an accident on the freeway, but as we drove by, I saw the body that wound up on the road. Losing momentum with all my old stories, I began to get a new idea about a body found on a freeway with someone else's head sewn on, and I was beginning to think about drawing it. If I drew it, I thought maybe that would be something to show editors, and while they looked I could pitch my story, and even if they didn't like the art, they'd have to listen, and maybe they'd realize what a good writer I was...

5. WONDERCON 2001, AND BEFORE, TALKING TO ARTISTS

I'd been to a few Wondercons in Oakland, but always just to go buy comics. I remember thinking at previous years, seeing some big names I might have liked to have met, but never taking the time to actually try and meet people. I think the first year I went, Mike Mignola and Will Eisner were there, but it never would have crossed my mind to find them or try to meet them. Maybe a year or so later, I learned Garth Ennis would be there. I planned to go listen to his talk, but started going through old comics bins earlier in the day, and finally decided I had way too many boxes to go through, and I'd rather look for old comics than hear Garth Ennis speak.

When I had just gotten out of college, I got my hands on some little pamphlet listing a bunch of comics that were "hot" at that time. It listed Hellboy and Madman, which I thought looked intriguing, Sin City, which I was already interested in, and a bunch of other more mainstream junk that didn't catch my eye. So I had noticed Mike Allred at a con. I kind of quickly glimpsed at some of his art he had out, and it looked nice. He didn't really seem to have anyone at his table, and I was so tempted to go up and meet him, but I hadn't read any of his work, so I shied away.

I did stumble onto Berni Wrightson one year, who I thought was really friendly. I was with a friend, who actually got a sketch from him. He visited with us for some time about his fan club he was starting, where he would send out little promotions and updates, and if you signed up, you'd be a lifetime member.

Brent Anderson had done a signing at A-1 Comics not long before. When there were signings at A-1, I would always be there, because there would also be a sale on back-issues, but I never went to meet artists. I was still at this sale when Brent was getting ready to go, and he initiated a conversation with me, because he saw what a big stack of junk I was buying. Soon after, he made an appearance at the local Sacramento Sac Con, and I visited with him more then. So now, when I saw him at Wondercon, I went over to say hello. He was always very friendly and talkative.

Once I accidentally found Dave Stevens. I got up the gumption to approach him, and my opening line was that I'd seen him on a Betty Page documentary. But he just kind of scoffed that the documentary was a few years old, and he got up and left, as if I'd said something he'd heard too much of. Who knows, maybe he had to get to a panel or use the restroom or something. You never know.

I had seen Tim Sale, usually drawing and looking pretty busy. I had seen Matt Wagner just walking around, and I went, Wow! Guys are just wandering around everywhere! Once I saw Tim Sale showing Matt Wagner color copies of his Superman book. That was really fun for me, to watch an artist look at another artist's art.

Finally, in 2001, I made the big move and tried to go up and talk with Tim Sale. I had really enjoyed his art in Batman's Long Halloween. He had just started doing Daredevil. He was doing sketches for everyone, and I stupidly made some comment about how he was doing all the Frank Miller characters. What I meant was that Frank is so great with his noir sensibility, and now Tim was following this great history, first with Batman, and then with Daredevil. But I assume, now, that he thought I was implying he's some bad Frank Miller hack wannabe, because he was really cold and untalkative toward me from then on, like he couldn't wait for me to beat it. I asked for a sketch, and he did a quick two line little scribble and sent me on my way. I felt so ashamed. I was afraid to face him again.

I talked to John Van Fleet, who I thought had some nice original art.

While looking at the art of George Pratt, some moronic comic-book geek there said, (now, in retrospect, I imagine him as an ugly, braces-wearing moron with a nerd lisp) "You should say excuse me if you cut someone off."

"Excuse me?" I asked. He was upset because he was shyly gawking from a distance, and I walked up to the table in front of him. I apologized profusely and left, and was disappointed that I didn't have more time to talk with George Pratt, embarrassed that such a stupid confrontation would happen in front of a cool artist, and a little upset that no one came to my defense, including myself, and told this moron to settle down because he's a moron.

So these were my few, early, first experiences trying to meet comics artists. Nothing particularly exciting, and it was often stressful and unfulfilling for me in the end. I didn't know how to say things to these people, so I mostly just kept quiet and looked at them from afar. But I was learning to be careful, or at least try to be aware, not to say stupid-ass things that will piss them off and make them think I'm an annoying moron. Because who wants their idols to think they're an annoying moron?

4. AFTER COLLEGE AND DECIDING TO MAKE COMICS

I had grown up in South Lake Tahoe, and the closest they had to a comics shop was the local supermarket. So growing up, if I wanted to find any comics that didn't come out that week, I would have to drive two hours down to Sacramento's comics shops, or an hour and a half to Reno, that had a mall with a Walden Books and a rack of graphic novels. I wasn't even aware of comics shops until high school. And of course the selection wasn't especially cutting-edge.

Through high school, I had slowly weeded down my comics buying list to only Frank Miller and John Byrne books, and by college I'd given up on John Byrne. I tried to keep buying Frank Miller and Bill Sienkiewicz, but neither of them put out very many books, so the next thing I knew, I wasn't buying comics anymore. This lasted from roughly 1990 to 1995 (my leisurely five-year art degree from UC Davis).

After college, with no more homework, I was looking for things to do, and found myself popping into comics shops. Now I lived in Sacramento, and I found a half dozen comics shops all around me. I had completely missed the '90's Image bubble, and now stores were all on the verge of going out of business, so everyone had comics for half off or twenty-five cents or ten cents. And I found myself going home with a stack of fifty or more comics every time I went to a comics shop, and going to comics shops once or twice a week. A lot of the books that were so hot during my childhood eighties weren't hot any more, and it was fun to pick up these books I previously held such a reverence for but had never read or seen.

I went to a small local convention, the Sacramento Comic-Con, where I found a ton of back issues. I thought it was great, and I started going to this quarterly convention quarterly. Then I heard about Wondercon down in the Bay Area, which is only an hour or so drive. I went there, and thought it was a pretty fun gimmick how all these big name comics artists were there, but it didn't interest me much more than a fun glimpse at people's badges to see if they were artists or writers whose names I recognized. I just kept buying comics, and not really spending more than cursory walk-by time with all the artists.

There was a small comics shop, The Comic Box, next to where I worked, so I found myself popping in each week to see what books were coming out. I befriended the owner, Paul Martin, who had had a Punisher story published for Marvel, and had been paid for a Thor story that never saw print. He had a number of friends who began showing up in print as well, including Tomm Coker, Keith Aiken, Melvin Rubi, and later, C.P. Smith.

I'm ashamed to say, the first time I started thinking about writing comics is when Paul told me Tomm just happened to get put on an issue of Wolverine, and in the issue in question, Wolverine fought Magneto, and during the fight, Magneto used his magnetic powers to wrench Wolverine's metal skeleton out of his body. The result of this happenstance assigning of Tomm on this one issue was that Tomm received a royalty check that either bought or at least put a down payment on his new house.

But take heed, fans! This story was a fluke, and I've heard nothing like it since! THERE'S NO GODDAMN MONEY IN THIS INDUSTRY! Don't be lured by the dreams of celebrity fame, or by the exciting superheroic tales of fortunes to come! I've said it before and I'll say it again. It's a life of misery and despair!

HOWEVER. I heard this story, and thought...That would be fun to write some comics.

I was getting excited, at that time, by two things. Same as everyone else in 1995. Neil Gaiman's Sandman comics, and the X-Files. My first brainstorms for stories involved wanting to tell all kinds of horror stories, and have a host like Tales from the Crypt. But I quickly got more interested in the host than the stories I planned for him to tell. I wanted a quiet, intellectual host, and I began to imagine Tom Virgil, who was an atheist who had died and gone to a Christian afterlife. And the premise stemmed from a "Bible as Literature" class I took, when the Professor asked his students, "Think about your own beliefs, and ask yourself if there's anything a person could say to you that could convince you to change your beliefs, or if there's anything you could see. Most likely, even if you can come up with some outrageous proof, and then you saw it, and it disproved your beliefs, you would still find rationalities to ignore the evidence. Because we've all spent our lifetimes giving ourselves reasons to believe what we believe, and that's just what we believe."

So I pictured Tom Virgil being confronted with this Christian afterlife, with all the evidence right in front of his face. Standing in clouds. Angels with wings and halos. The Gates of Heaven before him. But he held his ground and refused to believe in a Christian afterlife. He just said, "Look, I'm an atheist. I just don't believe in this stuff."

And I came up with this entire universe of Heaven and Hell, and earth and Limbo, and all these denizens in all these places. Probably enough fodder for forty or fifty issues of comics, I naively imagined.

It's obvious now, of course, looking back, that I was ripping off all the metaphysical ideas and story structures and universes and themes of Sandman.

Not quite ditching the horror-host scenario yet, I pictured an initial story arc of seven issues (twenty-four pages each), which would establish the character. Then I imagined follow-up issues going into different stories with different characters, each with their own story arcs, and with my Tom Virgil character as the "Tales From the Crypt"-style host. Again stealing from the Sandman, I imagined some story-arcs as six or eight issues, some only one. Some characters would come and go in later stories, appearing, disappearing, and returning over time.

I did a shitload of Christian research. I read and read and read about Christian beliefs. I started writing, and initially had no interest in drawing. I was too busy writing and researching to spend extra time drawing. I spoke with religious friends, acquaintances, and strangers, and made them read my script. I sent my script to a friend's father, a Christian scholar, and got a couple letters of reply and encouragement from him. I spoke with a Christian theology professor at UC Davis. I made all my friends read the stories, and we all got into lengthy religious and artistic discussions. I wanted advice from everyone.

Each time I finished a chapter, I would send it to myself, certified mail. I was told this is a simplistic way of proving in court that you had this idea at a given date, and is cheaper than getting an official copyright.

I began jotting down all my pages and pages of notes early in 1997. I began writing the script for issue #1 on Tuesday March 11, 1997. I worked on it that Wednesday, Thursday, Sunday, and had a finished first draft on Monday March 17th, although I re-read and re-edited a lot afterwards. I mailed myself the completed the scripts for issue #2 April 14th and #3 April 21st. After that is anyone's guess, because I stopped sending certified mail copies with the dates I had completed each chapter, and I never completed the big finale of number seven.

Three issues was a good bulk of writing for Wondercon, so I felt confident that I had a decent, smart, well-researched, well-written, and interesting story. And heck, all my friends said they thought it was smart, well-researched, well-written, and interesting. It was time to go to the comics convention and DC and shop my stories.

3. COMIC DRAWING AND ADOLESCENCE

While in the middle of writing all these convention experiences down, we took our trip to the Orlando Mega-Con. Naturally we had to hit Disney World while out here, and being in this atmosphere for some reason got me reminiscing about my youth.

My original plan with this diary was to limit it to convention experiences, but what the hell. Here's a little childhood history. I'm finding I'll have lots to talk about besides just the conventions. There are all the emails I've sent to artists, phone calls I've made to and gotten from artists. There's just generally my experiences self-publishing. There's the whole creation of the art process. Why limit myself? Here are my experiences with comics art in my childhood.

My Mom says what an amazing artist I was from a very young age. Kids around me were drawing round circle heads, MAYBE with eyes, and hands sticking right out of the head, and I was drawing Superman flying through the air, with his cape flapping in the wind. I used to love drawing Star Wars. I drew Kiss. And I drew Marvel superheroes, because I had a Marvel activity book with all the characters in it. I could spend hours staring at all those pictures. Who were all these interesting characters?

I also had a DC Justice League Treasury Edition that fascinated and confused me. For example, why were there two Supermans, Batmans, and completely different-looking Flashes and Green Lanterns?

When I was in (I'm guessing) first or second grade, for some reason all the kids were drawing a stick-figure style Star Wars rip-off that we all called "Hats in Space," the name of which I assume was partly stolen, in attempts at humor, from the Muppet's "Pigs in Space." I don't know who started this whole phenomenon, but naturally it stemmed from our intense love of Star Wars, and we all got into it. The idea was to draw different kinds of hats flying through space, shooting at each other with laser guns and blowing each other up. They were easy to draw, but fun to imagine. I remember kids were getting sick and staying home with chicken pox, and we'd draw "Hats in Space" get-well cards. Then I got sick with chicken pox, and while I was home, I received "Hats in Space" get-well cards.

So the first comic I can remember drawing, that my mom actually kept all this time, was my fleshing out of the rich "Hats in Space" mythos. Early on with this project, I exhibited one of my continual bad artistic habits; I got into it maybe a dozen pages, and never finished.

At this age, my parents enrolled me in a cartooning summer school course, which I really enjoyed. I think that's probably where I learned to do flip cartoons. My dad would give me his old business cards, and I'd draw on the backs of them. I've managed to keep all these. Most of the early ones are Star Wars or Shogun Warrior rip-offs. The later ones are all rip-offs of Frank Miller Daredevil-type fight sequences.

The next comics "project" I can remember was also in elementary school. This was a combination of Disney's Condor Man film, The Pink Panther, and the Super-Goof comics that the local shoe store gave away when I bought a new pair of shoes. It was the whole reason to buy shoes, to get excited about shoes. My character was Superstooge, a bumbling hero who fought the silliest villains I could come up with, including a fat rifle wielder who fell down every time he shot off his guns, Dandruff Man, a cat burglar, a knife thrower, and...well shoot, that's all I can remember, and none of them are that funny, now that I think about it. I probably did at least twenty or maybe forty pages, and one day I just tossed it in the garbage. What in the hell was I thinking? That was my history that I threw out. To this day I regret it. I kick myself.

Later, I wrote a sequel to Superstooge, with a bunch more characters, including Arnold Schwartzenegar in his briefs and a cape. And I did maybe another twenty or forty pages, and then I threw that out too. ARGHH!

It's because I've thrown out so many things like that that I've become such a hoarder now. I'm afraid to get rid of anything anymore.

I did keep the "movie poster" I'd made for the story, though, (because of course I imagined this story was so good it would become a blockbuster) as well as a flip cartoon of the movie's film credits. I even wrote a theme song on the piano, and other songs for the different characters. All instrumental.

In sixth grade I actually started reading and collecting comics. But sixth grade I got into it with a vengeance.

Soon I came up with a superhero comic of my own, and actually wrote and drew about five issues worth (a hundred plus pages!). Then, in my typical fashion, I looked at them all, and rather than continue on, I decided I could redraw and rewrite them better. I redid the first issue, and then never touched the project again.

I did another maybe five pages of a Frank Miller-style ninja character.

Later, I also attempted to redo my Superstooge character, which my mom finally pointed out I'd been spelling wrong all this time, but either I thought it was funnier, or I was too lazy to fix it, so I left it. Super Stuge.

And the last comic I remember doing before college was a James Bond-type of French spy, which stemmed very directly from a spy roll-playing game that had just come out, and was itself a rip-off of James Bond movies. I started a story and maybe got ten pages in, then abandoned it. But later, in high school, for an English project, I wrote and completed maybe a ten page story that I was very proud of. If nothing else, because I was able to complete it on a deadline.

Into high school, my comics drawing petered out, and I pursued more serious "literature." Namely, I spent hours writing a Dungeons and Dragons Sword and Sorcery "Lord of the Rings" rip-off fantasy book. I wrote about 250 pages of this awful thing before it petered out. I was probably about halfway into the story I planned to tell. I tried to pick it up again in college, and even majorly reworked it as I went, but by then I kind of realized how awful most fantasy garbage is, and kind of moved on to other things.

What I want to point out here is that all my projects as a kid were just rip-offs of comics or movies or books that I enjoyed. Because you have to start somewhere and learn and grow. If you look at my published work, you'll see how far I've come. Now I've got a rip-off of the X-Files, a rip-off of Jack Kirby-style monster stories, a rip-off of DC Comics' Dr. 13, and a rip-off of Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer. And just wait until you see all the rip-offs I've got in the works next! So you see, with hard work and persistence, I've managed to hone the rip-off skills I've been developing since my artistic beginnings!

I think all my projects had such high aspirations that I just lacked the time or commitment to ever finish them. I remember in college hearing that Leonardo da Vinci rarely finished his projects. It was like, for him, just finalizing the visualization of the project was enough. That's why his sketches are so fascinating, often more so than his paintings to the critics. It's like he lost interest once he completed the visualization stage. That was his art. That's what drove him. I could relate to not feeling driven to complete things. Does that make me a modern-day da Vinci? Not if you've seen my art.

It wasn't until I graduated from college that I began thinking of comics as a profession again. But of course the first project I came up with, Limbo Cafe, was so huge and overwhelming, I abandoned it, unfinished, for years. After that, I was afraid of jumping into something again, and not finishing it. That's why, reading Dave Sim's "How to Publish Comics" spoke to me. He advised to keep working. To push through and actually finish. To know that your first hundred pages won't be that good, but instead of fixing each one, just move on to the next one and try to make it better. And once you do a hundred or so pages, you should start to get more comfortable. You'll start to get in a rhythm.

Because that puts you far, far above all the clowns below, who only get one page done, and work on it for years and years, and keep showing that same page to the same editors, year after year. Sam Kieth told me the exact same thing. Starting out, that's what he had done, getting hung up on one page. Finally the editors told him, isn't this the same page you showed me last year? That was the kick that made him realize he better move on. But I'm getting way ahead of myself. All this is another story for later...

2. GAME PLAN AND WARNING!

Other than an occasional email to friends over the years, sharing something funny or interesting that happened at one convention or another (valuable historical material indeed), I didn't begin writing any of these experiences down until the plane ride back from Baltimore's convention, September 17th 2005. At that time, I thought it would be fun to start keeping a journal, as I went to different cons and met different people. It wasn't until February 2006 and San Francisco's Wondercon, that I realized I would also like to go back and document all the past I could remember, before it got too far into the past.

One memory would lead to another, usually faster than I could get them all down. I've managed to keep way too much of this fresh in my head. I guess with a life dream of making comics, and meeting all my comic book heroes in the process, every event feels like such a big deal. It's like I'm in Junior High again, and things matter. And it all feels so important. (To nobody but me, just like in Junior High...) I find I can chart the chronological time by relating it to the work I completed each year, and the associations of who I showed it to at what conventions.

I plan to post all this stuff chronologically. I had a seven or so-year backlog worth of experiences. So all that past material isn't so much a diary. It's technically my "memoirs."

Everything that's happened from September 2005 and on is an actual diary entry, even if I don't post it on the day. I have written, and will continue to write, as soon as I can after every event. Hopefully, if not on the flights home from the cons, (on this great new laptop I'm loving more every day), then the week I get back.

Naturally, there must be plenty of inevitable hindsight vision, romanticizing, and possibly mistakes in these events of the past (such as the actual year at Wondercon I first met Sergio Aragones, for example -- since I've spoken with him every year for at least five years). But when you meet your idols like this, even if you forget the dates, the memories stick with you. Everything they said was so important and amazing to hear...

BLOG WARNING

Please read carefully before continuing on to Blog!

This diary was written solely as a means to elevate myself in the eyes of potential fans, and wow them, regarding my role in the industry of comics.

These are my own reminiscences and opinions and versions of these experiences, people, and conversations, to the best of my knowledge and memory and ability.

I know I can't get quotes word-for-word, so I just do my best. Know that anything in quotes isn't necessarily an exact quote. I'm just trying to capture the sense of what I think people were trying to say at those times.

Sometimes I'll write something down, and then remember something else about it later. Some nuance I forgot to mention. Or I'll have different feelings or thoughts about something that happened, after I've had time to think about it, or see the results or consequences. Or some event that hadn't seemed important at the time, I'll realize later actually was important after all.

Of course, over time, as you tell or think about a story over and over, you just keep subconsciously working it over in your head, and it starts getting to be better or more entertaining as you do. So how accurate is a diary or memoir, anyways?

Last of all, it's hard to get a tone or attitude across in text. Please assume at all times that my tone is of utter enjoyment, awe, pleasure, and gratitude toward this great industry and everyone who makes it up.

If you can live with all that, then read on, dear reader!

Chris
So here it is, for your reading pleasure. Hope you get a little pleasure, and not just a bunch of reading, from it.

1. INTRODUCTION AND WELCOME!

2/25/06, in an Orlando hotel for MegaCon

The deeper I try to wedge my tiny little emasculated wedge into the comics industry, the more I realize how much I don't really want to do anything except talk about comics. I realize now, writing a blog about my experiences, about trying to make comics, is a healthy outlet for this unhealthy, otherwise annoying nerd-love.

Ever since I started really pushing to make my way in, maybe over the last seven or eight years, I've gone through what seems to be the usual laughable, humiliating, fun, frustrating, sad, pathetic, exciting, or absolutely hopeful or shattering experiences that I suspect all the other fans or aspiring professionals have gone through.

We've tried to meet or write to our idols in the industry. And sometimes it's been amazing, and sometimes it makes us wish we'd never met them. Sometimes it's harder to appreciate their art after, and sometimes we love it more than we realized, once we get that glimpse of who they are.

If we read comics, we've all thought we had a good idea that would make a good comic at one time or another, and maybe we've tried to share it to artists we admire and look up to. Maybe we thought or hoped they'd say what a unique and amazing idea it is, and how smart and clever we are, and how much they want to draw it for us, but they never did.

Then there's the communal, necessary experience of waiting in a goddamn portfolio review line and having our dreams shattered. Or if we're lucky, maybe we've felt that spark of an editor or artist liking our work, which is usually followed by the disappointment of seeing the spark peter out before our eyes over time.

For some of us who pushed harder, there's the experience of finally landing a professional job, or if you took my route, resorting to self-publishing, and receiving the first reviews you get, and the first sales numbers you get, and the kinds of people you meet when you're on the other side of the table.

But, unlike so many self-publishers, I'm lucky enough to have a day job where I can work a basically part-time schedule, and make enough to help me finance this habit that is not much better than crack or heroin. Unlike so many self-publishers, I've managed to amass a staggering role call of pin-up contributors, including my two personal, most absolute favorite, living artists. My books so far contain, or are soon to contain, pin-ups by Dick Ayers, Mike Allred, Thomas Yeates, Sam Kieth, Bill Sienkiewicz, Irwin Hasen, all three of Los Bros Hernandez, John Severin, Steve Rude, Ryan Sook, Tony Millionaire, Ramona Fradon, Mike Mignola, JH Williams III, Herb Trimpe, Peter Kuper, Peter Bagge, Dave Gibbons, Simon Bisley, Russ Heath, Sal Buscema, Al Feldstein...

And for every pin-up I've been kissing myself to have gotten, I've approached (I'm guessing) another three of my favorite, most respected and cherished artists.

That's a hell of a lot of stories I've got to tell about a lot of fascinating, great, amazing artists, goddamnit.

There's the memorably audacious Steranko, who demanded I take off my tie while addressing him. He also told me to shut up while I was talking to him, boomed joking insults about my masculinity, and told me that if my wife is the girl of my dreams, I must sleep on a lumpy mattress. I found him hilarious, and I also wondered if he would make me cry.
There's the experience of trying to get Russ Heath to commit to a pin-up. After pestering him for a year, I finally got him to agree to a commission and a price. I sent him a check he never cashed, and then after months more, he told me he'd been hired for a prestige-format limited series for DC, and said he'd be busy for another year. From when he first agreed and told me to contact him by phone to work out details, it took three years to finally get something in my hands from him.

There's sitting next to Simon "The Walking Party" Bisley at a convention and wondering if I'd survive his chair-tossing and shouting and stomping and pencil-and-notebook-throwing, and a few months later, having dinner with him and growing to be so fond of him.

There's all the experiences of meeting or emailing all my heroes in the industry, and sometimes, every now and then, not only getting some really fucking amazing artwork by them to publish in my books, but just pinching myself at how welcoming this comics community can be.

I'm writing this after seriously trying to put a book together and going to conventions to shop my project for seven years, and then self-publishing for a year and a half. I'm still a nobody. I still lose money, usually thousands of dollars, every issue I put out. So I'm still just another one of you, out there. Some of us have gotten our work published, or published it ourselves. And it's becoming apparent to me, that even if we do, we continue to struggle, and to work our goddamn asses off and love this goddamn industry (and despise it) more intensely than ever.

So I'm still a nobody, after all these years. But after all these years, I'm a nobody who my idols are beginning to know. And they know my name now, and hang out with me at the cons. And a couple editors are beginning to know me too. I'm like the ultimate tag-along-er. And you never know what's gonna happen from here... But every convention, I'm having more and more fun, and collecting more and more fun stories to share.

May 2005, my wife started emailing her friends some of our comics experiences, after we went to England, to the Bristol convention. I realized I wanted to do it too, and better start before I forgot everything.