Diary of a Struggling Comics Artist

Written right after Wondercon 2006:

I first propositioned Mr. Heath for a pin-up at Wondercon, April 25th 2003. I was new at asking, and hadn’t streamlined my technique yet. I also hadn’t yet built up such an impressive list of cool artists, and I only had a few stories inked by Dick Ayers to share. I timidly said, “I’d be interested in commissioning you for a pin-up, ” and he made some mumbling insinuation about how busy he is and who knows how many years he’s got left, and he doesn’t even know if he’ll be alive long enough to finish the ones he’s committed to. All that said, he gave me a card with his address and phone number, at which point I told him it would be for a giant monster pin-up, and showed him the stories. He hadn’t smiled yet during our entire exchange, but now that he heard and saw the subject matter, he literally rolled his eyes. But he knew it was too late for him. He had doomed himself by giving out his contact info before asking the subject matter.

I had been contacting all the other artists up to that point by email, which felt much easier, more comfortable, and less intrusive. I was a little reticent about bugging him by phone, and I didn’t get the impression he particularly wanted to do this at all, so that made it tougher to make the call too. Add to that, I’m always pacing myself asking artists for pin-ups, because I can only afford so many at a time.

Summer’s San Diego 2003 rolls around, and I haven’t called him yet. I find him and reintroduce myself, and remind him of our meeting a few months before, who I am and what I’m looking for. I ask about his schedule, and he tells me I should call him to set something up right away, because DC was wanting him to do a book, and that would keep him pretty busy.

Of course this time, I contacted him immediately like he asked, after getting home from San Diego.

He didn’t sound particularly excited I had called. I re-explained my project, and he listened as if he didn’t remember our talking at the previous conventions, and was hearing it all for the first time. He said it would help if I send him a letter with a sketch of what I’d like. Now he gave me his address. So I sent him a letter dated 7/23/03, with ideas and a few sketches for possibilities. I wanted it to be fun for him, and I wanted to give him plenty of options to find a subject he might enjoy. My contact info was in the letter, but I didn’t hear from him. I gave it a month or two, to make sure he received the letter, and had time to look it over and think about it.

I called him again, and once again, I explained who I was and what I was calling about, and once again, he listened as if this was all new to him. I asked if he received my letter, and had a chance to flip through it. He vaguely says he thinks he remembered it. I go into greater detail with what exactly I had sent him. Finally, he said, “Yeah, I’ve got that letter here somewhere.” He fumbled around a little, for quite some time. I could hear papers being riffled through. While he searched, he said how things get piled up on his desk. Finally he said, “Oh yeah, here it is.” He was quiet for another moment, I assume while he looked over the letter and tried to refresh his memory what it was all about. Then he said, “I’m pretty busy right now. Call me in a month.”

So I do, and we go through the same process of him seeming not to remember me, and my explaining the project I have in mind. He says he still busy, and to call him in a few months.

Now, on this next call, after months of going through all the same introductions and reminders of who I am and what I want, he suddenly says, “Yeah, I never really cared for those monster comics. They were really popular, to have the armies go back in time and fight dinosaurs or whatever, but I always thought they were terrible. I never enjoyed doing them.”

So I explain, look, you can draw whatever you like. Draw what you love. Draw a tank. Draw a plane. And then just include some hint of a monster. For example, a gigantic hand reaching down. Or a foot stomping down. Or a shadow of a monster falling over the tank. Or an eye peeking through a hole in a wall. Or a creature peeking around rubble. Other artists have done this kind of thing.

So he ask, “Other artists do just hints like that?” Yes. Well could I send him some samples of what other artists have done? I’m thinking, Jesus Christ, how long is this dance going to play?! So I put another package together for him, with copies of other artists’ pin-ups. I send that with my contact info, give him some time, and again don’t hear back from him.

I call again. I explain the project again. To my amazement and out of the blue, he suddenly gives me a price that he would charge me. I’m shocked. This means, after months of what seemed like pretty hard work wearing him down, I can now send him a check, and he’s ready and willing, at last, to take my money and do a pin-up for me. I’ve finally worn him out and gotten him to commit. I tell him I’ll send him a check immediately, and I tack on twenty extra dollars for shipping, which he didn’t ask for. The check was dated October 18, 2003. I include a note with the check asking him to give me an idea when the pin-up will be finished, and letting him know there’s no hurry.

I wait awhile, because I don’t want to crowd artists. But now it’s into December, and the check hasn’t cleared. I once again call and explain who I am and what the project is, and he once again gives the impression he’s hearing it all for the first time. He says he doesn’t cash checks until a job is finished, and I shouldn’t have sent a check so early. As to when he’ll get to the project, he says he has to send out Christmas cards or something, and he’s going to be busy for a month.

Come January, he tells me he’s busy for another month, because he has to get his taxes together.

Come February, he say’s he’s busy for three months, because he needs to put together some new, nude prints of his girlfriend to have ready, I assume, for Wondercon. So this “call me in a month” variation has gone on for a year now, and I see him at 2004’s Wondercon, and presumably his Christmas cards went out okay and he got his taxes squared, and there are finished nude prints of his girlfriend at his table.

I remind him I’ve been bugging him for a year. He says to just keep calling. So I call again.

Right at this time, I’m getting ready to release my first comic, Tabloia #572. I’m just sending an advertisement/poster to the printer to have sent to shops. Since we had discussed the price and my usual terms (I’d like to keep the piece, I’d like to advertise the pin-up is included in my book, I’d like the payment to be one-time), and since I’ve sent him a check, I include his name in this ad, and list him at my website as a pin-up contributor. The ad is shipped and visible around May 2004.

Now, on the phone, he has a “breaking the bad news” tone to his voice. DC just hired him to do four prestige-sized (48-page?) comics written by Howard Chaykin, and every time I call he’s busy and behind schedule with that, and he can’t even guess when it will be finished or when he’ll have time for a commission, but maybe he’ll be able to squeeze something in, so keep calling.

After a few calls like this, he finally admits the DC book will most likely keep him too busy for a year or more, and so naturally the check I’ve sent him expires. He was professional enough not to cash it, and even called me one day at my request to tell me he found the check and voided it.

With all these phone calls, I would occasionally ask how the Chaykin book was going. At one point, he said he has to draw a kid growing up, and it’s always a challenge to get the proportions right. Because if you make the head too big, it can change the kid’s age by ten years.

I continue to see him at conventions, and every time I see him, he says how busy he is, and I just naturally begin to assume I’ll never get a pin-uup from him, and this is just his way of blowing people off.

Now I’m just checking in with him out of habit, not because there’s any hope of actually getting a pin-up from him. Until San Diego 2005 – over two years after first asking him for a pin-up. Out of nowhere, my hopes are aroused when he confides to me that he just told someone who‘s been bugging him for two and a half years that he has time for their commission. And I tell him, that‘s good news for me, because I‘ve been bugging you for two years and three months.

The breakthrough comes Wondercon 2006. I tell him it’s our three year anniversary since I first started bugging him. He says (I gasp with surprise) he should have time to do a commission now! Then HE actually comes over to MY table, and brings a commission he did for someone in the old EC style, and tells me that’s the closest he’s come to doing a giant monster. I introduce him to my wife, Elizabeth. I pop over and buy a couple of his prints. He tells me to call him and we’ll work out the details for the commission.

I call him two days after the con and leave a message. He calls me back the next day. I remind him what I have in mind for the pin-up, and check on the price.

Of course there has to be another hitch, because why should something go smoothly trying to get this pin-up?

He says he doesn’t know where the numbers I give him came from, but he thinks he should charge about five to eight times more. I ask if he could work smaller, or do less detail. We agree on a plane in the sky, so that there’s no background. He ends up charging me slightly less than double the original check I had sent him. Because it’s more than I had anticipated, I tell him I’ll have the money together in two months.

In a month I get a call from him. It’s done. I can’t believe it! I remind him I don’t have the money yet, but will try and get it earlier than promised. He just says, when he never knows what his schedule will be, he gets the work done whenever he can fit it in.

I had asked at Wondercon if I could pay him then, but he wouldn’t take my money at that time. He said, at his age, you never know if he takes the money, if he’ll pass away without finishing the piece. He said what he likes to do is, when he gets the check, drop the piece in the mail on his way to the bank. That way both of us are sure to be taken care of.

I sent my payment out last week. I can’t wait to see what he’s come up with.

WONDERCON 2006 Wrap-up

I was surprised how good I felt about having a couple $10 books on my table at this convention: the humongous Doris Danger “treasury”, and “Dead by Dawn,” a British horror anthology I did a four-page story for. The con didn’t feel very busy, and not many people actually bought stuff from me. But it turned out, making just a few sales with the more expensive books made it one of our most successful cons, earnings-wise. Enough so, that I found myself wondering if I should just start taking more time between projects, and putting out graphic novels. I’m so resistant to it, though, because I prefer the comic book format. I’m so much more attached to comics.

My plan, before this convention, had been to jump into my Limbo Cafe project, which will be seven issues at 200 pages. This new “expensive book” evidence, coupled with the seeming popularity of my monster book (popularity as a relative term compared to my other books so far) is definitely making me wonder if I should shelf Limbo Cafe long enough to put out another monster book.

One thing I learned is that I really do have to be more careful about people who come up to my table, because I lose track of faces, and I certainly never can remember names. My wife can attest how awful I am about remembering names. I don’t even know the names of any of her friends, for God’s sake. I just AM NOT GOOD with names. And on top of that, at the conventions, you see so many faces, one after the other, and the environment is so stressful. Next thing I know, I’m making a pitch to someone who’s already come up and heard the pitch and visited with me, and when they come up they think we’re friends, I treat them like a complete stranger and try to sell them books they’ve already bought, and then I just look like an asshole and they wonder why the hell they bothered to buy anything from this asshole to begin with. Remember when I talked about Dave Stevens not remembering me? That’s why it didn’t bother me. Because I’m humiliated at how much I know why he didn’t recognize me.

So that’s something I have to really try and be careful about, because it’s IMPORTANT. And for those few of you fans out there who I’ve done this to, or who I’m going to do it to, next time I meet you…I’M REALLY SORRY. I hope you won’t take it personally, and understand now that I’m just a uncaring punk.

Someone at the con was sitting opposite me in the food court, and it turned out he drew my portrait, which I plan to post at the website soon. We visited for a while, and he went into specific and lengthy detail of a story he had come up with for Speed Racer, and he wanted to publish it. I told him he’d better find out who owned the rights to Speed Racer, and that might be a good place to look for someone to give his pitch to.

When Elizabeth showed up for the second day of the con, we began for the first time telling all our comics acquaintances we’re having a baby. Other than phone calls to friends, this was my first real “coming out” experience, and Elizabeth loved doing it. You could tell by the way she told everyone. And it felt awkward and strange to me. I’m not used to telling people this.

A strange thing happened this convention. It may not sound as strange to you as it does to me. Because, after all, from the moment I began sitting behind a table, people started bringing me their portfolios to look at and give them advice. And people started giving me comics, or sample sketchbooks or zines they’d printed or made at Kinkos. But this felt different, this time.

First, I was approached by someone, who asked if I might do a commission for him, which he could use as a poster, I believe, for a film. Granted it was a student film. He teaches. I told him, I really haven’t done this kind of work before. But he came back and asked a second time. We exchanged contact information.

Later, a self-publisher I’d met at another convention gave me a copy of his newly-printed first issue, and said he had a story in mind that he thought I’d be great for, as the artist. More and more, people are approaching me, and asking me for this kind of stuff. More and more, people are asking if I want them to do a pin-up, to publish in my own book. More and more, I’m having to explain to them, Look, the pin-ups I put in my book are famous artists I admire, revere, who inspire me, who have contributed to comics history and to my development as an artist. I pay them to include them, and I hope their inclusion will get readers to look at my book, and give me a chance as a struggling artist. I’m not some famous publisher of some famous book, looking to scout talent. I’m not just putting pin-ups of everyone I meet into my book. It doesn’t matter how good the pin-ups are. That’s not the point of what I’m doing.

But I can’t blame them, because I’ve desperately tried pawning my books off on other artists and editors, hoping someone will see it and think it’s good. And I’ve come to realize probably most of the copies get left in hotel rooms, or brought home and thrown out, or at the least not looked at, or glanced through but not appreciated. I’ve tried offering my services, and who cares if it’s for free, if it could get me a little exposure. But it never leads to anything, because no one’s interested. I’ve met people I look up to and admire, and tried to seem cool and friendly, not only because I admire them so much, but because you never know if maybe they’ll think I’m okay, and just happen to need someone to spot their blacks, or happen to introduce me to their editor, who will no doubt be dying to see what kind of work I’ve been doing. It’s a desperate medium, and no one knows how to get in, and we’re all just trying any way we can think of.

I don’t tell them all that. They’ll learn, and either keep trying, or get frustrated and give up. What I tell them is, I’m flattered you want to be a part of things (and I am). I tell them, I’ve got so many projects of my own that I don’t have time to do, I don’t really have time to work on a project for them (And I don’t. And I’ve gotten this excuse from a lot of other artists, and I’m beginning to realize maybe it’s true and not just a blow-off.)

But what I do tell them is that I’m working on putting a links site together on my website, and if they have any interest, I’d love for them to draw me a sketch of a giant monster, and I’ll post it there, as a link to their email or website or whatever they want. And some of them seem disappointed that I’m not planning to print their pin-up in my book, or hire them to do work in my book, or let them hire me (I hope they at least assume they’d pay me, and not just think their story is so good I’ll feel honored just to be a part of their brilliant project for free). But most of them like the opportunity to be a part of that.

Overall, so far, of all the cons I’ve done, I seem to feel best (that is, the least negative and pessimistic) and do best with Wondercon.

While standing at my booth, I happened by chance to see a number of cool people walking by, and I employed a newly developed, and highly successful technique to get their attention and try to get them over to talk to me. This technique, I call the “rude shouting from behind the table” technique. I employed this revolutionary practice with John Dolmayan (System of a Down’s drummer), Grant Morrison, Eric Larsen, and Jim Lee. Each instance, I was able to rudely get their attention – if not on my first try, then by shouting even louder and calling them over. In each case, I gave them copies of my brand-new Doris Danger book. I had the feeling Eric liked it (he actually bought it), John would at least flip through it, Jim might or might not look it over, and Grant would leave it in the nearest receptacle.

I’ll tell a secret about my finding John Dolmayan. I’d seen him wandering around for the last couple years at Wondercon. This year, I made sure to visit the System of a Down website and make sure I had his name right. Sure enough, he walked by, and I shouted his name. He seemed like a real cool, down-to-earth guy. Very friendly, considering I shouted out his name. He said he liked the oversized format of the Doris book. I asked him about his drum set covered with comic book artist’s art. I had heard about it, waiting in line to see Michael Kaluta a few years before. It had Arthur Adams and hopefully Kaluta. I would learn it had Tim Vigil and Tim Bradstreet. He said the original had been stolen, but that he planned to debut the new drum set at the Warped Tour, then bring it to the San Diego con this year. That will be a FREAKIN’ COOL DRUM SET to see.

I used my now effective shouting technique with Bruce Timm, who for some reason I’ve been really intimidated by for years. I’ve seen him in the past, and tried to show him my book and ask if he might consider doing a pin-up. Once he just said no flat out, and the other times I was too ashamed to even ask after approaching him, because he seemed kind of like, “Oh, Christ, here we go again. Why the hell do I always get accosted by these morons?” So this time, he looked like he wasn’t opposed to me or my book, and just said these kinds of pin-ups weren’t really his thing. Fair enough. I told him I think he’s just about the most Kirbyesque artist of them all. One of the highest praises I can think of.

Also saw Howard Chaykin walking by, and shouted out his name. We had met at the Baltimore Con where I’d shown him photo copies, and I wanted to show him the finished book. He came over and chastised me for my audacious shouting behavior. I said, “Do you remember me from Baltimore?” He shouted back, No! “I’m the Kirby-style monster guy. Ryan Sook told me you’re going to do a book with him.” He perked up. “Is he here?” I pointed him out, and he excused himself, said he’d be right back, and walked over to Ryan. I watched them introduce each other and visit for a while, and then Howard walked off in the opposite direction and never came back.

Always enjoy seeing Matt Wagner. He liked the Doris format and asked for a copy. He said Grendel got a movie deal. Also that he’s putting together a big Grendel anniversary book, which of course has to have Hunter Rose. I asked if the movie would be Hunter Rose. No, Christine Powell, he said.

When we told him we were expecting, he shared the father story he said he always likes to tell. His son was just a baby, and in the middle of the night they heard an enormous wretching sound. They ran in, and the little guy was covered head to toe in his own puke. Matt said, disregarding his own well being, or the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and is an extremely hirsute, hair-chested man, he grabbed his son in his arms and held him close, covering himself in puke. He said, That’s when he knew he was a father. He said, When it’s your own kid, that stuff doesn’t bother you anymore, no matter how gross it is with other kids.

Talking about his “Batman and the Monster Men” books, he shows me the current issue, and asks if I know the cover of Detective #31. I’m flattered he’d think I know all my classic golden age covers, but I don’t. He said, “Oh, you’d know it,” and begins to describe it, and then I knew it was the famous castle on the hill, with a red hooded villain, and a menacing humongous Batman towering over the landscape. He’s using this story, and described his version of the red hooded Monk, who sucks blood, but keeps his hood on while he does it. So the hood falls over the luscious female victim’s neck, and you can’t see what’s going on, and the Monk leans back up, and blood is dripping out from under the hood. Great image.

He said he was designing a cover, so he referenced another classic Batman cover, I believe Detective #33, where Batman actually has a gun holster on his utility belt! Matt submitted his version of Batman with a gun, but DC told him there are certain rules that DC adheres strictly to, and one is that Batman is not allowed to carry firearms on any of his covers, even if it’s a reference to this classic cover. So he designed a new cover that he said he actually enjoys even better. In Matt’s issue, Batman does pull out a pistol, but it’s gonna be a tranquilizer or smoke gun or something, so that it’s okay for Batman to have it.

My favorite Batman gun cover is Detective 423, a gorgeous shot of Batman firing a huge rifle! You find out in the issue, however, that it isn’t really a rifle. It’s just a camera (a CAMERA??!?!?) that for some reason is shaped just like a rifle.

I approached Russ Heath for the God-knows-how-many-eth time. This con was a good sign, though. He actually said, he thought he’d have some time for a commission right now, and to get in contact with him. When I saw neither of us had anything going on at our tables (he sat directly behind me), I showed him the Doris book. To my surprise, later he popped over to my booth, and showed me a commission he’d recently done, in the EC style. He said that’s the closest he’s come to doing giant monsters lately.

He’s really funny. He tells jokes with such a deadpan expression, you can’t tell if he’s joking. He once again made a crack that at his age, it’s best not to send him money until his work is done.

When Elizabeth asked him how he was doing at the con, he seemed disappointed with how slow it had been for him. He said maybe he’d just try and shoot himself, but his friend told him he’d have to have pinpoint accuracy.

Later, he asked if she would mind watching his table while he got a quick bite to eat. His table had some war prints, but it also had a bunch of nude pin-ups. E felt a little out of her element there, and was glad when he came back.

I asked if he had ever been in the services, and about his photographic accuracy with all his drawings of tanks and planes. He said he never served, but wanted people who had served to see his art was respectful and true to them. He said he buys models of all his drawing materials. He pulled out a model of a plane, about eighteen inches long, and said this was something he was drawing recently. He was amazed at the accuracy of these models, how even the cockpits or wheel wells open accurately. So that’s how he does it!

I may have finally convinced Sergio Aragonez to do a monster pin-up, with a great deal of help from the double-teaming aid of Thomas Yeates, who was sitting next to him. I went up, introduced myself, and showed Sergio my book, and he said, “Well, if it’s not a humor book, I don’t really do pin-ups.” I said, “Oh, it IS a humor book.” He said, Well, I’m really busy. But I got him talking a little, and finally he said maybe to contact him in a few months. I said I’d be at San Diego, and he said that would be a perfect time to check back in. Then I slyly went right over to Thomas at the next table, and talked loudly about his pin-up, so that Sergio could hear. Thomas obliged, by telling Sergio, Oh, yeah, he’s got a great book, you’ve got to see it. I had to leave for a moment, but when I came back, I could tell Sergio had been asking about me. So is that guy okay? His book’s okay? That kind of thing.

Sergio did give me a talk. He said it’s a tricky thing having a book with so many pin-ups, because I’ll never know if people are buying the book for my work, or just for all the pin-ups. I told him it’s an unfortunate and anxiety-producing line I know I’m always walking. I want to be seen, but no one wants to see me, because I’m an unknown. I told him I’ve done other books besides the pin-up-flaunting stuff. I’ve got my fingers crossed for something from Sergio. I just adored his work when I was a kid.

I met William Stout. I spoke with William about publishing one of his sketches from his sketchbook, since he’s too busy for a commission. Given the size of my Doris books, he suggested a particular sketch, which I agree would look nice. I will definitely be in touch with him.

Frank Miller was listed as a special guest. I suspected he wouldn’t be sitting at artist’s alley or anywhere he would be approachable. I tried poking around to see if I could find him anywhere. He did a panel discussion, and had a one-hour signing, or something like that, both of which I knew would be a zoo.

It turns out, Frank pissed a lot of liberal San Franciscans off at his panel, when he announced he’d be doing a new Batman book, where Batman goes after the Middle Eastern terrorists and kicks their asses.

I investigated the scene for his signing at the Darkhorse booth, and hours before he arrived, he had a line so long and crazy, not even a bunch of the people who’d been waiting for hours were able to see him. However, Matt Wagner told me his son was able to get a sketch from Frank. Wow! If only I were the son of Matt Wagner!

Went and introduced myself to Scott Shaw, who it turned out had already picked up two copies of my book at his local comics shop, one for himself, and one to share, he said! He asked if I could sign a new copy for him. We shared Kirbyesque anecdotes and talked about Kirby’s monsters. Scott is so damn funny and entertaining. He has so many great stories. I really enjoyed myself. He said he’s too busy to do things like pin-ups for other books, but for my book he’d make an exception. He seemed especially taken by my Peeka Peeka, Peeping Tom of Mt. Rushmore, and he said he was glad I appreciated Stan Lee’s monsters with double consonants at the end of their names.

Scott talked about a bunch of Kirby monster stories. He said when the DC books had monsters, they felt like the old Japanese monster movies, but when Marvel had monsters, it was like “I was a Teenage Werewolf” or “I was a Teenage Frankenstein,” full of the raw, teen emotions and melodrama.

He told me of an early sketch he drew and actually gave to Jack Kirby. Kirby had a page of someone or other, “the Dog who Can’t be Beat!” facing off against someone with a big stick. Or maybe the dog wrestled the stick out of the potential “beater’s” hands. Scott drew his own version, “The Dog Who Can’t be Beat Off!” with a huge erection instead of a stick. He showed it to Jack, and Jack was really embarrassed, but accepted the piece, according to Scott.

Scott also talked about a Herb Trimpe Hulk story, with a giant monster in it that looked like a huge turd. Scott thought it was the ultimate “man’s fear of feces” symbolic story, and at the end, the giant turd monster fell off a building and landed with a graphic splat to its death. The final panel looked more like a steaming turd than a defeated monster, Scott said. It was the most turdlike image of the entire story. Scott then pulled out his sketch pad, drew me a sketch on the spot of his own creation, and an homage to this Hulk story. His character, “The Turd.” I told him I wished he spelled it with two D’s, or two U’s.

San Francisco Feb 10 2006

I had my first “trade paperback” for this convention, and I was hopeful that, as people had told me, I would be able to start making a little money with it. Trades have a much higher cover price, and since they usually collect a story arc, buyers like them as a whole, easy package.

Of course my “trade” wasn’t exactly a trade. It only collected twenty-five pages worth of previous story, and that’s as many pages as a single comic has. Also, it was oversized. But I couldn’t exactly call it a graphic novel, because it was two thirds reprinted material, and fifteen out of fifty-six pages were pin-ups.

I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high, but I hoped I would see a little better money made at this con. Not to mention I felt I’d done decently at Wondercon the year before.

One kind of neat thing about this con was that half a dozen people who had contributed pin-ups to the issue were going to be there. I was excited to see them all again and give them copies.

I had requested once again to sit with Ryan Sook and Mick Gray. This time, I was “by” them, but they were on a table together, and I was separated from them by a narrow aisle. Shucks.

I popped over at one point to say hi to Ryan. I say “popped over” because even though we were “by” each other, I had to physically get up and walk over to visit. I gave him a copy of the Doris Danger book, since he was in it. He was so gracious, he kept saying, “Are you sure?” because he didn’t want to put me out by giving him a copy. I was thinking, Please. It’s the least I can do, if you were kind enough to contribute to it. I felt like I should give him more, if he wanted any.

He asked what I was working on now. I had just talked to someone at my table about this very thing. At my table, I had told the person, “I’m doing a story about an atheist who dies and finds himself in a Christian Fundamentalist afterlife.” There had been an uncomfortable pause. I then further explained that the atheist found himself arguing all the problems with people literally interpreting their scripture, and this person breathed a sigh of relief.

So now, with Ryan, I just gave the whole pitch at once, including the “arguing all the problems” ending – so that there wasn’t the same uncomfortable pause I’d gotten the first time around. But now, after hearing the entire pitch, Ryan gave an uncomfortable pause.

Later in the week, Elizabeth told me, “I didn’t realize Ryan is really religious. His wife told me.” And then I understood the uncomfortable pause he had given. Woops…I guess there’s just no winning with that kind of subject matter for a story.

Mike Mignola was only about four people down from my booth. I went over to give him a copy of my Doris Danger book, which he had a pin-up in. At that moment, at the front of the long Mignola line, was Nick from Texas. Nick did Ryan Sook’s website, and I believe he did one for Mike as well. He had a sketchbook full of drawings of Hellboy characters by a lot of great artists, and also one I had drawn him the year before. Right as I walked up, Mike was flipping through, and I realized when he got to MY sketch, he said, “Wow, that’s nice.”

Not one to miss out on a chance to bolster myself, and make sure Mike knew who I was, I immediately and blatantly blurted, “Nick, did Mike Mignola just say he thought my sketch was nice?” Mike looked up, and I gave him the Doris book.

Mike Allred was billed to appear at this convention. I assumed, without assigned tables, he would be pretty difficult to hunt down. He had a talk scheduled here and there, but no actual table sit-down time that I could find. I wondered if I would be able to hunt him down, because I knew I wouldn’t have time to go listen to a talk.

I later learned from him in an email, that he actually just did his panel discussions, and then ditched the con to do San Francisco sight-seeing. And who can blame him!

Mario Hernandez did his usual stop by our booth, and then come back behind the table, sit down, and hang out with us for an hour or so. Elizabeth and I are so fond of him! While we were visiting, a woman came up and said, “Mario, I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Laura. My husband, Mike, is such a fan of yours, and he’ll be so sorry he didn’t have a chance to see you.” Of course, by then, I realized this was Laura Allred, Mike Allred’s wife. I asked if Mike might be able to stop by, and she said they were just leaving, and Mike was already out at the car. I was bummed not to get a photo with them, but glad at least to be able to give Laura a copy of the book for Mike.

Also in the book and appearing at the con were Ramona Fradon and Thomas Yeates, both of whom were great to see again.

I made the hour and a half drive alone, because it began on Friday, and Elizabeth had to work Friday. We found a friend who was going down Saturday, so E would get a ride down then, and stay the rest of the con.

I get tense and usually irritable driving in the city. I have a bad sense of direction as it is, and I don’t pay very good attention and constantly miss turns and exits. I accidentally drove through the Fast-track (We’ll see how much I get fined for that), then got lost coming into the city, because there was roadwork and strange bright barriers and signs everywhere that distracted me. Once I knew I had passed my exit, I managed to get going back the opposite direction, but of course the exits had different names from this way. I called my sister, a San Francisco native. She stayed on the phone with me, guided me, and got me into the vicinity. I hung up, looped around, four right turns in a row, and realized I was still in the wrong place. I shouted for directions out my window, went a little farther and looped around another four right turns. Meanwhile, I really had to go to the bathroom, because I drank way too much water before I left home (I wanted to be sure I was nice and hydrated for a long convention day). I finally found the convention, looped around another four right turns to try and get to a parking garage, pulled in, and realized the garage closed at five. Since the con goes ‘til seven, it was a no go, so round and round I went again, getting antsier and squirmier in my seat as my need to go to the bathroom grew more and more unbearable. Each time I had to loop around the block like this, it would take four or five minutes, because I’d invariably have to wait at a light a two, for a minute or two each.

I followed another set of parking garage signs for three left turns, and somehow never saw the garage. Now I’m fidgeting and squeezing my crotch because I’ve got to go so badly. Finally I just pulled into the first garage I found, and damned its distance to the convention. I opened my trunk and quickly pulled out my dolly and a few boxes, to wheel to the con. Suddenly seized by a terrible desperation to pee, I scrambled through my car, looking for a bottle or can or…ANYTHING!

I found a plastic bag in my trunk, snatched it up, crouched behind my car, and got my pants belt and pants undone. Just then a car pulled up, and I realized how conspicuous I looked, if not downright arrestably lewd. I tried to look natural and get zipped up and get my belt back on. I had to go so badly, I was in agony. I threw the boxes back in the trunk, grabbed my backpack and began hiking in the direction of the convention. I left everything because I had to go so bad, I was afraid lugging everything would slow me down and pressure my delicate muscle control. I would have to come back for everything later. One step at a time. Breathe, breathe…Oh God…breathe…

After a full block I found myself in a dead-end alley, and realized I would have to walk all the way back past to my car to get out of here, so fuck it, I loaded up my dolly and just tried to get to the convention. I’m hunched over from pain. On the walk over, I realized I was so distracted, I actually hadn’t zipped my fly up, after all this time. I tried to be discreet.

I finally got to the convention center, a painful three blocks away. There I was told it’s being held, not where I am, where it was held last year, but at Moscone West, which is two more blocks away. What the hell did I do to deserve this, I scream, wiping tears from my eyes.

At last, I’m there. I walked straight in, straight to the bathroom, and was peeing practical before my pants came off. It was the most relieving and monumental pee I’ve had in at least thirteen years. I watched three people come and go in succession before I finished.

The convention was an hour-twenty minute drive from home, and I had left with an extra forty-five minutes added in, to get settled. In the time I’d gotten lost, found, parked, peed, and set up and settled at my table, I was still about fifteen minutes late.

What a great way to start a con!

I had finished a five-issue run of my comic, Tabloia, and now that I’d had two official years of failing business under my belt, I wanted to try and publish as much as I could, and preferably some books that might sell a little better.

Artists have been telling me that comics sell okay, or more likely they don’t sell very well at all. But when you put out your trade paperbacks, that’s where you can make your money back. Trades have the higher cover price, so they don’t sell as many copies, but the higher price creates a higher income, and this is your bread and butter. I’ve heard of artists who just give away their comics when the trades come out.

I hate this idea. I never cared particularly for trades. I love the feel and size of comics.

Sure, I understand why people would prefer to just buy a trade, and have the complete story all in one package. But it’s always disappointed me, the thought that trades are better loved by everyone than the format I love most.

And what’s worse, to me, is that the comics market is such that many self-publishers wind up doing only trades or graphic novels, and not even bothering with the comics, because they just simply can’t make money at it. But I thought, now that I had four different characters from my Tabloia comics, that it would be fun, rather than packaging the five issues of Tabloia as a trade, if I packaged each character from Tabloia as a separate trade.

Of course marketing played into this. I had learned now, that people weren’t interested in an anthology. Or at least, they weren’t interested in my anthology. I wanted to see if making each trade a specific, unique character was more popular to readers.

Collecting my Doris Danger stories was of course my first choice for trying to put together a decent, marketable product that people might actually buy. Why Doris? Because I already had five five-page stories, one from each of my Tabloia issues, inked by Dick Ayers. I had fifteen pin-ups of giant monsters, three per issue, from these comics as well. That meant Sam Kieth, Mike Mignola, Mike Allred, Los Bros Hernandez, Tony Millionaire, Gene Colan, John Severin, and everybody. How tempting that would have to be for people to want to buy!

But similar to how, with Tabloia, I began with issue #572, because I thought it was more interesting artistically, I decided with this comic that I didn’t want it to be standard-sized. Why not? Not just to insure the book would be a financial failure. These were stories of giant monsters in the Jack Kirby style. Jack Kirby used to draw these stories on HUGE sheets of paper. And the subject matter, in my opinion, deserved a huge style. I wanted those giant monsters to REALLY BE GIANT! I looked at old 1970’s treasury editions that Marvel and DC used to put out, and I loved how big the pages were. I loved that, proportionately the page-to-reader ration made you feel like you were a little kid and comics were so big. Looking at these treasuries as well as the Kirby Collector volumes, I thought the size proportions were weirdly shaped. I looked at the size of Love and Rockets, and Daniel Clowes’ Eightball featuring the Deathray, and they seemed a little too small. I finally decided on 9″ x 13,” because it was round, unfractioned numbers, but a solid 2 to 3 ratio for the image size, with a solid 1/2″ around each side of the image.

Whenever I do a project, while I’m working on it, I assume it’s going to be my masterpiece, and the book that will catch on, and that people will remember. I spent a month or so cleaning up the images of every page, so that every line would be as crisp as possible. I especially did this, knowing each page would be blown up larger than standard size, and that it would be so much easier to see the blemishes. I did this because I always thought the Doris Danger stories looked kind of sloppy in Tabloia. This was my fault, because Dick inked them and returned them without erasing my pencils, and for some reason I thought it would have more depth with the pencils still visible underneath. Once they were printed, I realized it just looked sloppy to me, and I didn’t want this Doris Danger project to look sloppy in that way.

Just the five stories and fifteen pin-ups would only get my page count to forty, and I didn’t think this was enough for a “trade paperback.” My original idea was to publish two or three regular comics of Doris Danger, and then collect those comics with the Tabloia stories. I changed my mind after San Diego 2005, because I learned that Marvel was going to release a series of Kirby-style monster comics for Halloween. When I found out, I cranked out one new six page story, and five pages of new monster splash pages, a couple pages of new text about the fake history of Doris Danger in the fifties, and a collection of all the fake letters I’d posted about Doris in the Tabloias, and I called this package a 56-page spectacular, hoping I could ride on any potential waves Marvel made with their monster-pushing agenda.

It turned out, first of all, that the Marvel monster books didn’t make that big a splash. But the other problem was that by the time I got my Doris Danger book listed in Previews, it was a month or so after the Marvel monster books came out, so I didn’t really have any waves to catch, and I was too late for them anyways. Ah well, my motives were pure…

For this book, I didn’t do any advertising. I thought it would be an experiment to see if there’s really any big difference in my numbers without spending the extra money on advertising. I had run a number of ads here and there, and couldn’t see much difference in sales. If my numbers dropped this issue, which I considered the cream of Tabloia’s crop, then I would consider advertising. I would also consider advertising next book, and including this one as “still available,” thereby getting two ads out of one payment for an ad.

I was hopeful that my orders would do better. I knew that I would be better off, even if the numbers were smaller, because the book had a higher cover price – $10 instead of the $4 I’d been publishing. The distributor takes 60% of that, which means I make $4 a book, instead of $1.40.

I was, as usual, disappointed to see the numbers come in. I got 336 sales of that book, which got me $1336 from my distributor. Even though it wasn’t my highest numbers of sales, and even though I was still disappointed with these numbers, it was my highest income from any of my books. My second best issue was the first issue of Tabloia, which sold 613 and made me $968. So Doris Danger looked considerably successful, compared to my other books…at first glance.

Then I realized my Tabloias cost fifteen to eighteen hundred dollars to print (depending on just how many I grossly overprinted), and this Doris Danger book cost me $3500. So if I wanted to be literally realistic (which always hurts too much to actually do), this was my least successful book, because subtracting what I made from the cost, I had lost practically two thousand dollars, instead of my usual eighteen hundred. Granted, I have extra Doris Danger books which I can theoretically sell over time. But Jesus, what an industry, if my most successful book is my biggest financial failure.

I wasn’t as concerned at this, however, because I was so proud of this book. I thought it turned out so damn well, it was just a gorgeous package, and I was so pleased with it, and confident that it would sell if people saw it, and saw how many fucking great artists were contained in it.

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 can’t be a “Comics artist” anymore.

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.

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.