Diary of a Struggling Comics Artist

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?

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.

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, well 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 Scorsese 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 throw 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 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 (relatively speaking), 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.

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.

Basically my first stop: 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, (who I would years later learn is 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 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 conas opposed to the previous years where we walked and walked and walked, and she 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, I watched a fair amount of big name people walked by all during the con. I think it was because of our convenient location 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, based on the comic book written by Max Allan Collins. 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.

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 create this mass of foot traffic and 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 they asked and it was their store, and besides, 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 what if I irritated or pissed them off? What if they decided, why bother putting out any fliers or telling anyone I was coming? Or why should we support this book at all? 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. They were a great store, and I liked everyone who worked there.

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.

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 I was at work, and by the time I called back, the small space they needed to fill in their 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, and I was in the “V” corner between tables, 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 in the issue, 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.

FIRST INTERVIEW

My book hadn’t even come out yet, but it was listed in Diamond Distributors’ Previews Catalog. 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 a card-carrying member of the Skeptics Society of America, and someone who created the character Dr. DeBunko: Debunker of the Supernatural. 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?

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 about 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, adding his own artwork, to help add a consistency to the pages he had drawn in the book. 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 felt concerned most of the pages were pretty evident who did what.

When I finished my pages, Sam 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.

I finished all my portion of the art on August 14th, 2004, only just over three months after Sam first sent me the script, and with a fair amount of waiting throughout.  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.

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 catalog 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 through their catalog. 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.