CONVENTION FOOT TRAFFIC AND SALES

 

Every year at San Diego, I’ve tried different locations, in the hope of finding the place that’s right for me.  This is no easy task, since I believe the convention hall is like two miles long.  The first year, we were in the cheap “bigger” tables, but it seemed like the bulk of people there were unknowns who were able to spend a little better money than the really cheap “small press” area.  The following year we decided to upgrade, by sharing a table, and I had us placed between artist alley, and what I term the “area of studly artists,” where I assumed people would be walking, to get from one of those great areas to the other.  And I assumed that since my comics contained tons of pin-ups by artists in the areas on either side of us, people would WANT to stop at my table, when they accidentally stumbled onto me during that walk.  But that didn’t work either.

 

So this year, I decided, there is an area called “The Small Press Pavilion,” and I am small press.  Rather than try to be a little fish in the big pond, where people are only interested in big fish… Rather than depend on the trickle down theory, trying to glom onto and basically eat a carcass that’s already been feasted on by the successful hunters …  rather than indulging in whatever little I could of the “sloppy seconds” of passers-by…   This year I tried yet another technique.

 

Because the convention is so large, I decided, Hey, there must be people who come to the convention who are actually there to buy indie comics.  And if they are, where are they going to go?  They’re going to go to the area that’s labeled “small press.”  But I still had my pride, and decided I would rather be in the expensive, more glamorous “small press pavilion” than that cheap, shoddy “small press” back-alley, by the bathrooms and behind the garbage cans (which I would try to great success the following year).  I wanted to show, “Even though I’m small press, I’m the BIG-SHOT small press.”  And the table cost a fortune, but this was my year.  If it didn’t work, I would be reduced to the small press next year (to great success, it turned out).  But of course I hoped the showy, glam-sparkled, expensive area would be a huge success, with that bigger, more prestigious exposure.

 

Well…We heard how busy the convention was.  When we walked through the hall, we could see how packed it was.  If we looked down the aisles on either side of us, we would see hordes of people passing by in mobs.  But then we would look down our own aisle, and it was almost always empty.  What the hell??!  We were in an all-small-press area, so you would think people would come to a convention knowing they wanted to see small-press books, and wander up and down the area, and buy stuff.  We didn’t see any of that.

 

I know I feel like I make excuses every time we don’t do very good sales, get foot traffic, whatever.  But it’s gone on long enough, and maybe I just have to acknowledge the certain, sad truth…either about myself, or about the comics industry.  If I’m unwilling to admit that it’s my work, then I can argue people go to conventions because they like certain artists, and they hunt down those particular artists, and wait in line to see them.  But I’m not one of them yet.  People don’t really seek me out, or seek my books out, because I haven’t reached that heavenly celebrity stage yet.  And even if I work pretty hard doing pitches, I only get moderate sales.

 

And of course this is minimizing, exaggerating, and focusing on one tiny aspect.  Some people at the con just want to watch anime.  Some people just want to get the exclusive Star Wars toy.  Some people actually looked for me, and told me they couldn’t find me afterward, because the con is just so damn HUGE.  And so damn overwhelming.  And there are tons of great artists all around me, small press and fan favorites, and there’s just SO MUCH.  Who can say what the secret is?  Who can say what the formula is for success?  I’m still learning and working on it.

 

A clear sign that I don’t just have a shitty book is that even Matt, the master salesman in my opinion, was not having particularly good sales at our booth.  So I ended up making about the same amount of money I make at every convention, even though this time the con was twice as many days as the usual con, and I spent three times the usual cost to be there.

 

I popped over to the small press area throughout the con, because so many of my fellow self-publishing friends and acquaintances had wound up there.  And looking at it, I thought, the con folks really made this a nice area.  It seemed to look better, and more inviting this year.  And I heard the guidelines were actually quite strict for being allowed in the area.  Talking with my friends, they all said they were actually doing great there this year.  Tons of foot traffic, tons of sales.  Could it be?

 

Lesson?  The convention is too important from a professional standpoint to stop coming, so that option is out.  The connections I make with editors and publishers, and artists, is too invaluable.  Everyone attends this con.  I have tried enough locations (three years’ worth), and none of them have been successful yet.  So from now on I will spend as little as possible on a table at this convention.  It’s one more thing to try, at least, and you never know.  Maybe that will turn out to be my magic spot, after all (and it did).

 

Every year at San Diego, I’ve tried different locations, in the hope of finding the place that’s right for me.  This is no easy task, since I believe the convention hall is like two miles long.  The first year, we were in the cheap “bigger” tables, but it seemed like the bulk of people there were unknowns who were able to spend a little better money than the really cheap “small press” area.  The following year we decided to upgrade, by sharing a table, and I had us placed between artist alley, and what I term the “area of studly artists,” where I assumed people would be walking, to get from one of those great areas to the other.  And I assumed that since my comics contained tons of pin-ups by artists in the areas on either side of us, people would WANT to stop at my table, when they accidentally stumbled onto me during that walk.  But that didn’t work either.

So this year, I decided, there is an area called “The Small Press Pavilion,” and I am small press.  Rather than try to be a little fish in the big pond, where people are only interested in big fish… Rather than depend on the trickle down theory, trying to glom onto and basically eat a carcass that’s already been feasted on by the successful hunters …  rather than indulging in whatever little I could of the “sloppy seconds” of passers-by…   This year I tried yet another technique.

Because the convention is so large, I decided, Hey, there must be people who come to the convention who are actually there to buy indie comics.  And if they are, where are they going to go?  They’re going to go to the area that’s labeled “small press.”  But I still had my pride, and decided I would rather be in the expensive, more glamorous “small press pavilion” than that cheap, shoddy “small press” back-alley, by the bathrooms and behind the garbage cans (which I would try to great success the following year).  I wanted to show, “Even though I’m small press, I’m the BIG-SHOT small press.”  And the table cost a fortune, but this was my year.  If it didn’t work, I would be reduced to the small press next year (to great success, it turned out).  But of course I hoped the showy, glam-sparkled, expensive area would be a huge success, with that bigger, more prestigious exposure.

Well…We heard how busy the convention was.  When we walked through the hall, we could see how packed it was.  If we looked down the aisles on either side of us, we would see hordes of people passing by in mobs.  But then we would look down our own aisle, and it was almost always empty.  What the hell??!  We were in an all-small-press area, so you would think people would come to a convention knowing they wanted to see small-press books, and wander up and down the area, and buy stuff.  We didn’t see any of that.

I know I feel like I make excuses every time we don’t do very good sales, get foot traffic, whatever.  But it’s gone on long enough, and maybe I just have to acknowledge the certain, sad truth…either about myself, or about the comics industry.  If I’m unwilling to admit that it’s my work, then I can argue people go to conventions because they like certain artists, and they hunt down those particular artists, and wait in line to see them.  But I’m not one of them yet.  People don’t really seek me out, or seek my books out, because I haven’t reached that heavenly celebrity stage yet.  And even if I work pretty hard doing pitches, I only get moderate sales.

And of course this is minimizing, exaggerating, and focusing on one tiny aspect.  Some people at the con just want to watch anime.  Some people just want to get the exclusive Star Wars toy.  Some people actually looked for me, and told me they couldn’t find me afterward, because the con is just so damn HUGE.  And so damn overwhelming.  And there are tons of great artists all around me, small press and fan favorites, and there’s just SO MUCH.  Who can say what the secret is?  Who can say what the formula is for success?  I’m still learning and working on it.

A clear sign that I don’t just have a shitty book is that even Matt, the master salesman in my opinion, was not having particularly good sales at our booth.  So I ended up making about the same amount of money I make at every convention, even though this time the con was twice as many days as the usual con, and I spent three times the usual cost to be there.

I popped over to the small press area throughout the con, because so many of my fellow self-publishing friends and acquaintances had wound up there.  And looking at it, I thought, the con folks really made this a nice area.  It seemed to look better, and more inviting this year.  And I heard the guidelines were actually quite strict for being allowed in the area.  Talking with my friends, they all said they were actually doing great there this year.  Tons of foot traffic, tons of sales.  Could it be?

Lesson?  The convention is too important from a professional standpoint to stop coming, so that option is out.  The connections I make with editors and publishers, and artists, is too invaluable.  Everyone attends this con.  I have tried enough locations (three years’ worth), and none of them have been successful yet.  So from now on I will spend as little as possible on a table at this convention.  It’s one more thing to try, at least, and you never know.  Maybe that will turn out to be my magic spot, after all (and it did).

SAN DIEGO COMIC-CON, July 19-23, 2006

IT BEGINS!

Elizabeth was over eight months pregnant, and we headed down by plane to San Diego, without incident. The doctor visit informed us she could pop any minute. Our friend, Matt Silady, a talented self-publisher and great salesman at conventions, would be helping us to man our table, in part since Elizabeth wouldn’t be as functional, but especially since she could potentially go into labor at any moment. We arrived early, got situated at the hotel, and I left Elizabeth there and went to the convention.

Matt met me there. We were hours early for the con. Matt and I set up the table, including my brand new, six-foot tall sign of a giant monster, boldly, unapologetically bragging about the names of all the great artists attached to my book. We were ready with plenty of time, so we poked around a bit. Matt had never been to the con, so we strolled and looked at all the crazy displays, and I showed him the areas I like to frequent – DC Comics, Darkhorse, Fantagraphics, etc., to speak with editors and try to find work, the artist alley to make connections and network, etc. We began bumping into some of our fellow self-publishing friends, setting up, and visited here and there. And before we knew it, the convention had begun, for Wednesday night’s Preview Night.

LEARNING TO BE A SALESMAN

I listened to Matt’s pitch to people, and I think what I learned most is that he has developed a couple catch-phrases that he uses each time, just as hooks to try and get people interested. Always beginning with an introduction and hand-shake. Even if people look like they’re about to walk right past, he managed to snag a few back by standing up and introducing himself. That’s enough to get them to listen through his pitch, and often he winds up selling the books as a result.

He made some suggestions to my pitch. He suggested being succinct, but including adjectives, like “creepy,” and “fun.”

I listened to how he would pitch my book a few times. It gave me ideas. Partway through the convention, he acknowledged I was doing great, and this with for the most part the same pitching techniques I’ve been using for the last couple years. Just refined, refined.

It’s funny, as I began pitching the same line each time, I realized, I would come up with a joke, and use it almost every single time, down to the same smile when I got to the same part, and the same little laugh when I told the punchline.

After awhile, we learned, if I would tell people about Matt’s book, with such descriptions as, “You should flip through Matt’s book, the art is amazing,” or “It’s a fun story, be sure to check it out,” people would take the time, if for no other reason than politeness. And once they were standing over with him, he could give his own pitch.

Because our books are quite different (His is a romantic comedy, mine is not), often if a couple came over, we would interest one of them with one of our pitches, and the other one would just be standing around but not as interested. So then, while one would look at mine and buy it, he could start a conversation with the other, and the other would look at his and buy it. It worked out well.

So be sure, next convention, to come on by the table, fans, and give yourselves the opportunity to hear all my newly-learned pitch techniques!

Note of WOOPS!

Fans!

Regarding diary entry 111…or any other entry that wasn’t on its timely weekly schedule…Silly us! Our own sleep-deprived, always-chasing-the-baby-around-the-house artistic hack, Chris Wisnia, accidentally clicked “save” instead of “publish” for last week’s informative diary entry! Or who knows? maybe his fourteeen-month-old son did, since Oscar likes to climb onto his daddy’s lap and punch at the keys, swing the mouse around, and yank the keyboard to the floor! At any rate, it should have been posted in a timely fashion a week ago, and we didn’t realize the error until today, a week late! The utmost apologies, fans! To make it up to you, we posted a BONUS ENTRY this week! That’s right, TWO ENTRIES IN ONE WEEK! This week’s, and the one you should have gotten last week! What a bonus!

Enjoy,

Rob Oder, Editor-in-Chief!

* * *

FLYING DOWN, BUT FINDING A “COURIER”

As soon as we found out we were expecting, we warned the doctor of our plan to go to San Diego while Elizabeth is eight months pregnant. We were informed by our doctor and the airline that we are safely within the window of “safe to fly,” and decided we would prefer that to the eight-plus-hour drive. That surprises many people, but on a plane, we know we will land in an hour, and be surrounded by people trained to handle emergencies. Driving, we would be in the middle of who-in-the-hell-knows-where, with no idea where or how far the nearest hospital is, and probably no idea how to get there, or have anyone to call or find to help us.

Then we learned, coincidentally, that Elizabeth had a business meeting, scheduled in San Diego the very same week! That means we could write off her flight, hotel, and a rental car! Then one of her employees mentioned he would be driving down, and offered to take a bunch of our stuff down for us, so we don’t have to lug it around the hospital, with a pregnant woman!

As I publish more and more books, I’ve increasingly dreaded traveling to conventions, because it’s getting to be too much to take. I guess it’s lucky for me I usually only sell about thirty books, because then I don’t have to take a lot with me. But now I’ve got five self-published comics, a trade paperback, and an enormous treasury edition, as well as Ojo trades, Ojo comics, a British horror anthology, t-shirts, posters. If I bring one of each size of t-shirt, thirty of each book, and ten of each trade, it’s still hundreds of pounds of stuff, and you’re only allowed fifty pounds per suitcase. How do people do it, if they don’t have a courier service from their wife’s work?

PREDICTING WHAT A SUCCESSFUL YEAR THIS WILL BE

I’ve been crossing my fingers that this year we’ll sell better than ever. Thanks to our “courier service” through Elizabeth’s work, I’ve decided to bring about twenty-five copies of each issue of Tabloia, fifty Lump trades, and a hundred fifty Doris Danger books.

All the stars are in order. We’ve got a location that I’m hoping will have lots of foot traffic from people who want to buy indie comics. I bought a $250 sign of a giant monster, to attract attention, and I brazenly listed all my pin-up artists at the very top of the sign. We’ve got Matt Silady the master salesman helping at our table, and ready to take charge if I have to rush Elizabeth to the hospital to have a baby. All the signs are in order. All the stars are lined up. Maybe I’m setting myself up for some disappointment, but you’ve got to aim high. I’m felling hopeful we’ll do all right this year at San Diego, the most difficult convention to do all right at. I’m hoping we can make back our hefty San Diego table costs. We’ll do it if we can sell a hundred twenty monster books, and don’t sell anything else. That doesn’t sound so impossible, does it, at a five day convention?

THE EIGHT-MONTH PRE-FLIGHT CHECK-UP

The week before our flight, we went to the doctor to make sure everything is still going all right. The OB/GYN examined E and said, “Oh my God! You’re two centimeters dialated, and your cervix is thinned 80%!” We reminded the Doctor of our trip. Her nervousness was fearsome. She finally said, No, you should go on your trip. It’s a big trip, and it could be you won’t have that baby until you get back. But you should be prepared, in case you have the baby in San Diego. She told us how nervous she was though. It made us nervous.

PEOPLE I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING

Many years, I look over the “featured guests” lists, and am not necessarily interested in meeting very many of them. However, I know that every year, tons and tons of great, fantastic idols of mine are somewhere at the con, if I can only figure out where to hunt them down. This year, however, I was surprised how many cool artists I got excited about seeing listed.

I sent out a spam mailer to my mailing list, and also a couple quick emails to some friends.

The bulk email stated, in dazzling, sensational Circus-ringleader fashion, that we were planning to perform a live birth at San Diego, and it got a number of replies from our friends, such as Mick Gray, all of whom said, “You’re crazy. You’re insane. See you there.” I got an email from Scott Shaw with congratulations, and confirmation he’d still like to do a pin-up. I got an email from Steven Grant, who I’m quite eager to meet, after all his kind mentions at his website. He is the only reviewer I’ve had so far who has actually generated sales.

I’m looking forward to hunting down Simon Bisley, and approaching him with a piece of paper in my hand, and flopping it down in front of him and having him just draw me a pin-up right there on the spot, now that it’s been a year since I paid him for a pin-up, and he hasn’t even bothered to reply to my emails.

I was ecstatic to see Brian Bolland listed as a guest to this year’s convention. When we met at the Bristol Con, he’d said the last convention he’d done was seven years earlier, and it had been in England, so seeing him coming to America seems like a really big deal to me. I’m looking forward to hunting him down, reminding him who I am, and seeing if he might still have interest in doing a pin-up.

I’ve emailed Brian a number of times, ever since we met in Bristol. I heard back from him once early on (this was over a year ago), and never again. At that time, he said, Sorry I’m so busy, I’ll send a proper email soon. And then nothing. So I don’t know if he’s got a new email, or if he’s not really interested in doing a pin-up, or if I’ve gotten on his nerves, and he’s put me in his spam filter, or if he’s just busy and doesn’t return a lot of emails.

John Romita Sr. and Daniel Clowes I’d also like to check in with, both of whom have hinted they may do pin-ups, but I get the vibe they probably won’t.

I’d like to try to meet Shag, but who knows what kind of mob he’ll attract, and how hard it would be to get to him. Most likely, he’ll have a couple hour-long signings in the autograph area, and not be around the rest of the time. I of course fantasize about getting a pin-up from him, but I’m just going to assume there’s no way that could happen, since there probably isn’t.

I’d like to say hi to Seth. And I heard Frank Miller will be signing, but I just assume there’s no way I could possibly get over to meet him.

I guess we’ll see if my mom’s prediction, that my horoscope says it will be the best year ever, pans out.

Gearing Up For San Diego

DECIDING TO BRING IN A THIRD PARTY

Last year, Elizabeth and I bought a 10’x10’ booth for this year’s San Diego Con. If you buy it a year in advance, you get a hundreds-of-dollar savings. We knew we didn’t want to share again, because it just wasn’t enough space. However, when we found out Elizabeth would be eight months pregnant for the convention, we knew she wouldn’t be as mobile, and that she wouldn’t be able to help her usual enormous amount. She wouldn’t be able to run from one end of the hall to the other if I needed an errand done. She wouldn’t be able run into town and grab us some food. She’d have a hard enough time, I suspect, just getting from the hotel to the con and back. She’d probably want to spend some time just getting some rest back at the hotel, which means she couldn’t just sit around and watch the booth while I goof off and make connections, go hunt down artists for pin-ups, get things signed by my idols, try to speak to editors, or whatever other “goofing off” I feel like doing. It became pretty quickly apparent that it would do us well if we could find someone to give us help, keep an eye on the booth, make food runs; give me freedom to goof off (= do business); whatever we might need.

I thought over the people I knew, who knew comics and who didn’t. I thought about pretty female friends of mine or of my wife. I thought about comics nerds I know, either who publish their own stuff, have strips in local papers, or aspire to one day be published. I thought about cool friends who don’t read comics at all.

Our friend Matt Silady seemed like a good first choice. First of all, he reads A LOT of comics, and really knows the industry. He really knows all the people in the industry, including all the creators, editors, companies, reviewers…He REALLY KNOWS the industry. Second, he self-publishes his own book, “The Homeless Channel,” but has only done two issues so far, so if we offered to let him share the table with us, he wouldn’t take up a lot of space. (You’ve got to think about this selfish stuff…) Third, he’s one of the artists I see at conventions who I’m intensely jealous of, because he’s just such a good salesman, he sells five times the number of books I’m ever able to sell, and I don’t know how he does it. But however he does it, it sounds like it would be worth having at my table, if nothing else to try and pick up some hot tips.

We offered, if he was willing to come help us out, not to charge him table space, and he was excited to accept. And it took a lot of stress off us, knowing we’d have someone informed, capable, and talented – who we get along with – sharing our space.

MOVING BEFORE THE CON

The weekend of the 8^th, my wife and I moved from a two-bedroom into a three-bedroom apartment. As moves go, it was as easy as a move can be, because 1. We stayed in the same apartment complex, and literally just went down one door (about twenty feet.) We didn’t bother to pack at all. We just filled a box, carried it over, dumped it in a drawer, and went back to fill the next box, etc. 2. We had been there four years, and the landlord informed us she would be replacing the carpets and painting the walls in our old place, so we didn’t need to worry about cleaning the carpets or puttying all the nail holes, etc. 3. The people moving into our old place wouldn’t be coming in until August, so we had weeks to get moved and settled.

Just the same, moving always sucks, and what horrible timing, it being a week and a half away from San Diego (when there’s so much preparation to do), and with a pregnant wife who can’t do the usual strenuous lifting and slavish house-fixing I would normally demand of my wife.

By the weekend before San Diego, Elizabeth finally let go of the fact that our house wouldn’t be completely ready before we left, and even seemed okay with that. We still have some closets to rearrange, a few boxes to unpack, lots of pictures to put on the walls, and a few baby furnishings or elaborate toys to put together, but we’re not doing too badly.

I spent a week moving, unpacking, building shelves, organizing stuff. Then I saved the weekend to try and get all the last-minute things finished for the con. I printed, cut, and stapled Dr. DeBunko mini-comics. I designed three different flyers and printed hundreds of them. I designed a new, larger, catchier price list, making it clear what bargains I’m offering. I packed comics into bubble envelopes and boxes for the trip. I sent out a mailer, so people would know where to find us in San Diego. Between the move and getting ready for the con, we only managed to get one decent night’s sleep in the last week. We won’t get any sleep this week either.

But we’re ready as we can hope. Wish us luck.

Being finished with the Dr. DeBunko book, I was anxious to jump back into the Doris Danger sixteen books as well.

This is the way I write Doris Danger stories. I don’t think about them, and I do other things. I’ll just be going through my day, driving somewhere, sitting at work, watching tv, reading a book, going for a walk, running errands, or whatever, and I’ll get a weird idea in my head, that makes me laugh, or hopefully at least smile. Then I jot that idea down on a scrap of paper, or in a notebook if I’ve got one with me.

The other way I write Doris Danger stories, is I read any old Stan Lee-Jack Kirby comic, and I laugh at some of their plot-lines or artwork, and usually that inspires me with cornball ideas.

And last of all, if I read through any of my old Doris Danger stories, I leave so many holes and untapped, uncompleted ideas, that browsing through will remind me how many other things I can have happen, or expand upon.

But all these ideas, I just jot on pieces of paper. So I’ve got stacks of these unused ideas, just waiting to be thrown together. Since all the Doris Danger stories are disjointed and usually pretty brief, I know that when it comes time, I’ll lump a series of these completely unrelated ideas together, and that’s all I do for my actual “scripting.”

I read through some old plots I’d jotted down, and picked the one that made me laugh the hardest. If I find something that really tickles me, I’ll read it to Elizabeth, but she never thinks it’s as funny as I find it. I don’t care. I decided long ago to write to my audience, and pretty much as far as I can tell based on my sales numbers, my audience is just me. So I’ve got to please that audience.

We’re moving next week. We’re just in a two-bedroom apartment, and with a baby one the way, we’re just going to need more room. So I got this wild hair to go through my comics collection yet again, and see if there’s anything I can’t dump. I tend to do this every few years, because the rooms get too full of comics. My biggest, most embarrassing dump was when I first got married. Twenty-two long boxes out the door.

The reason I say wild hair this time around is that I just started yanking all kinds of stuff out of my collection and putting it in the dump pile. I’m realizing, I’ll never read any of this again. And that has become my criteria. Even if I enjoyed it the first time. Even if I really liked the art. If I don’t think I’ll read it, or even look at it again, dump it. Dump it.

If I wasn’t sure, I would open it up and flip through and read it. And what I found is that, even if I thought the art was really good, I often still didn’t have any interest in keeping a lot of it. I didn’t really get rid of much older stuff. It was a lot of newer books. A lot of them were popular books too. But I just am not interested any more.

I would read them, and the style of writing would get on my nerves. Everything is so cute and clever and in-fashion. It’s about cell phones and reality tv and everything that’s “in” right now, and it all felt like a big gimmick to be “popular” and “cool,” and I realized, I don’t want to be “popular” and “cool,” I just want to tell the goddamn stories I want to tell. And obviously this is a sign I’m getting old, because I can’t stand anything that’s “cool” any more. It’s a bad sign.

It’s like when you realize you don’t know what movies are cool, or what music is cool anymore. And you just start watching all the old movies, or listening to all the old music you liked when you were younger. Bad sign. Bad sign. I’m getting old.

And worse, all the artists seem so talented. I can’t draw like that. It’s humiliating. They’re so good. Their line work is so amazing. Right now, clean-lined photo-realism is in, and even if that’s what I attempt, I just can’t quite accomplish it.

I finally began admitting to myself this week, I don’t really want to do superhero comics.

I never really realized it before. I always assumed I’d wind up there eventually, and it’s just what I’d do. But now I’m resigned. It’s not what I do. I don’t have any desire to do it.

It’s a big step for me. Because of course, superhero books are pretty much the only place people can make a paycheck in the industry. The page rates are simply better, and the work is steadier. Most successful people in the industry, even if they begin with indie books, wind up on superhero titles.

And I assumed this would happen to me. I assumed the big companies would eventually see my work and say, this guy is the guy for us. He should work for us. But here we are, two years into my publishing career, and no one is asking yet.

And meanwhile, I’m reading a couple superhero books here and there, and thinking, sure I liked this stuff when I was in sixth grade. I found it really intellectual and realistic, but honestly, I’ve gotten older now. I still appreciate it. I still have those emotional and psychological bonds to it. But I’m just not such interested in it anymore. It isn’t a reality that “works” for me. I’ve been writing about mad scientists and private detectives. Or if I write about fantastic giant monsters, I’m parodying it. I have trouble imagining I could take a superhero format seriously if I were doing it. And besides, I’m enjoying what I’m doing, NOT doing superheroes.

So all that forced me to realize, I don’t really want to do superheroes.

So on the one hand I feel really alienated, and like, I can’t fit in and I don’t want to. I don’t belong in this medium. But on the other hand, I realize, I have a day job, and I can afford to just do whatever project I feel like, on my own terms. I don’t really want to get work-for-hire and weird random projects. I don’t want to fill in for other artists and get put on who-knows-what books. I just want to do the stories I want to do, and I’m doing that. I’m choosing my stories, and making up my own characters. I can continue to put out regular comics, or I could make more mini-comics, or start doing web comics, and try to not lose a thousand bucks every issue I put out. Even if financially my career continues to lose me money every time I release something, I can afford to do that. I can afford to do what I want creatively. So, really, I’m very lucky. I’m living the American dream. I have no creative limits or overseers to keep me tied back. What am I complaining about?