SUNDAY – LESS BILL SIENKIEWICZ AND MORE SEAN PHILLIPS
Awoke tenuously. Was today a good day to die? Toe on the hardwood floor. Weight supported. Deep breath.
Hey. I feel okay. And my mere feeling okay compared to yesterday leaves me feeling like a Greek God. Okay, I can do this. Breakfast at the kind of local coffee shop I wish I could walk to whenever I wanted and attempts to tame the savage toddler heart (I’m rusty, since my toddlers are toddling no longer) lead off the morning. Oh yes, and grabbing that last stack of books I left at the house. The numbers were against me going home with all of my stock gone, but I was gonna give it a shot. That stuff gets heavy when you’re wheeling it through the airport. Best to leave what I can in Portland.
As the show opened, spoke with Matt Silady, Kirsten Baldock (both of Isotope infamy, and that of their own projects, THE HOMELESS CHANNEL and SMOKE AND GUNS, respectively) and Jason McNamara, who I can’t believe loves his comics so much that he moved twenty-five longboxes of them up and down to his new apartment while double-parked. That’s dedication.
The next three hours, however, were marked by soul-sucking despair. Sunday mornings are always slow. Now, this wasn’t Wizard World LA slow, but it was pretty quiet. Which was kind of a shame since I was totally ready for the crowds. But my patience would be tested. Greek God, labor, you do the math. I got postcards in hands, so one would hope that would lead to folks reading the first chapter and then gleefully ordering the whole thing from their retailer of choice (as indicated on said postcard.)
Chatted briefly with the newly-slimmed down model Tom Spurgeon, who more closely resembled the Sean Phillips Kingpin, as opposed to the Bill Sienkiewicz version. This is a vast improvement, even if it means he’ll kick my ass all that much harder for even making the comparison. He asked me what I’d seen at the show and I had to confess, not a hell of a lot, being chained to my table or my deathbed, depending on the hour. Which is about the only thing I really miss at shows now. I don’t get to see much of anything, and the only folks I get to chat with are those who float by my table. I suspect the solution lies in cloning, or perhaps the construction of an elaborate robot double, with improved selling capabilities so that I might pace the aisles. Anyways, Tom seemed to be enjoying himself much more this weekend than he did last. But this comes as no real surprise, either.
Finally, past the 1 o’clock mark, things began to pick up, and they did rather forcefully. Pleasingly, some more folks who bought the ashcan last time came and bought the book this time.
Let me tell you, from a purely avaricious and rapacious standpoint (which is my true nature, though I manage to keep it well-camouflaged) there is nothing, nothing sweeter than seeing someone approach the table already doing the reacharound to their wallet or into their purse to make the buy. My inner Alec Baldwin cackled in glee. But more importantly, it meant that I was actually connecting somehow with a reading audience. Creating the work is all well and good, but it’s really out there to be read by other folks. Sure, I have to satisfy myself with the work, but I’m not the sole audience, else that’s just short-strokin’ it. Finding an audience is a big deal for me, as I’m working in a vacuum, staring at an LCD all day. This was the real reason for coming up. Well, that and schnitzelwiches.
Had an interesting guy come by the booth towards the middle of the afternoon. He eyed the art with interest, noting some Toth vibe in some of the pages and how the artist knew how to spot his blacks effectively. We chatted about art; he knew what the hell he was talking about. And beyond that, he seemed familiar somehow, but I couldn’t place my finger on it.
“You seem to know your art. I’m Matt Maxwell, just the writer-guy.”
“Oh, hi. I’m Mike Dringenberg. I helped co-create SANDMAN.”
And so he did. I’d also been a fan of his art since that ENCHANTER book from Eclipse, back in the middle-late eighties. So yeah, he knew his shit. He showed me his work on the new Tori Amos anthology book, which looks utterly spectacular, delicate watercolor and flowing linework. He’d turned his portion of the book into a Chinese (or was it Japanese?) accordion book that folded out into one long piece. It’ll be well worth looking up when the book actually comes out (and at 12”x12” and 400 pages, it’ll be hard to miss – and to lift up.)
Mike graciously agreed to do a sketch for my sketchbook, drawing a woman who looked “like she’d stepped right out of a T-Rex song,” in his words. Yeah, he’s still got it. Pity that he doesn’t do comics work any longer. We chatted a bit more and he recommended a store in Portland called Counter Media, which I didn’t have time to check out, but will make time to on my next trip up. I suspect I’ll have to lock up my wallet for that one. It’s something I’m used to having to do in bookstores. A personal weakness I have.
I thanked Mike for his time and he disappeared back into the crowd. That was certainly unusual.
One of the questions I got a lot while sitting at the table was “Is this a whole story? Or am I gonna have to buy another book?” You know? I love getting that question. My answer? “Yes sir/ma’am, it has a beginning, some middle, and an ending, all between those two covers you hold in your very hands.” This isn’t a sequential periodical. It’s a god damn graphic novel. A complete reading experience – no additional trips to the bookstore required. Yeah, I just love getting that one because I have the one and only right answer to it. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, not done-in-one monthly comics!
The crowd ebbed and flowed, an pulsing parade of unusual tattoos (more so than in LA, but probably eclipsed by San Francisco), with the occasional die-hard superhero fan wearing an Aquaman or Captain America shirt. The truth of it, though, is that none of these folks would draw a second glance just walking the street. So either people overall are becoming a whole lot weirder (it could happen) or I’m totally jaded (entirely likely) or maybe comics aren’t for freakazoids after all. I mean, I knew that to be true all the time, but it’s nice to see evidence of it after going to shows like SDCC all my life where the point seemed to be as outrageous as possible. I know, everybody wants to be a superhero, everyone wants to be a Captain Kirk (I know I do), but to see the quietly simmering side of fandom was a refreshing break from all that.
I sneaked off a couple times to pass some books to favored retailers, at least those that I could find in the moments that my Inner Alec Baldwin would allow me. That means Mike from Bridge City Comics (who remembered me from last year’s show and was happy to see the book, but he’d said “I already ordered it, man” before he was told that the copy was for him and him alone) and Andy from Cosmic Monkey (host of the comic art battle). Another copy was pressed into the hands of Scott McCloud, who for good or ill, helped pave the way for my book with UNDERSTANDING COMICS all those years ago. Remember, there’s writing and writing for comics, and they’re not the same thing. Took a quick tour of the floor, one chunk at a time, always returning to my table like a nervous mother bird returning to her nest on her first day away from the eggs.
I’m sure I missed a customer or two. But then editors can be customers, right? It’s good to talk to editors, just to remind them that you’re still alive and are capable of getting your books done.
Best question of the day? After handing Matt Wagner a copy of the book, “So, what’s next?” “Second one’s halfway done, Matt.” “Good, good. Keep it up.” Which is what I was kinda afraid of. Just like Matt Murdock hitting the bullseye after losing his radar vision; Stick admonishes. “Again. Anyone can be lucky once.” Marathon, not a sprint.
Another welcome visitor to the booth was Lukas Ketner, him being the artist of http://www.witchdoctorcomic.com/, which preview books of were making the rounds. I was quite happy to receive one, and a quick read provided good touches of humor mixed in with the horror (and some pretty spiffy art.) I’d expect Lukas to be snapped up in short order, but hopefully not before we get to see all three issues of the projected miniseries.
Oddly enough, I was asked to contribute to someone’s sketchbook. I’m still weirded out by signing copies of the book I wrote, so I found this extra-super-weird. But I gamely scripted an entry into the stuffed squirrel’s travel journal. A picture should be toddling along shortly, once I get off my butt and get it on the computer.
I realize I’m probably leaving a lot of stuff out, but that comes with having old and creaky brains. And running on about four hours of useful sleep, thanks Southwest and the perpetually confusing Sacramento Municipal Airport economy parking lot. At least I was able to get some Beef Chow Fun in me before finding out my plane was delayed and that I can’t even remember exactly where I parked my car because it was midnight and I’d been shaking and howdying all day.
Home again, where I’m no longer a (minor indie) rockstar and all the usual stuff is waiting to get done. Selling books is all well and good, but someone’s got to restock the groceries and make lunches for the kids.
As always, many thanks to Periscope Studios for putting up with me and to Jeff Parker and his lovely family for providing me a place to crash and be reminded how much I miss my own kids when I’m away.
Seattle up next. In less than…TWO WEEKS? That can’t possibly be right.