Checking in

I'm a douche, huh?

Postcards has been keeping me very busy - there's some big news coming soon so maybe that'll make some of your folks go, "Ohhhhh." Maybe not. But I do want to tell stories here, again, soon, I just haven't had the time. Here's my SPX wrap-up, though, if you're interested:

SPX Post-Game Show

Friday I left work at around 5 and hopped the train to White Flint so I can start my weekend of SPX fun.

The new venue was interesting. It was bigger, brighter, noisier - it didn't feel as intimate and swanky as the old venue. But I found myself running into a lot more people and that's always nice.

The dinner situation was a nightmare, though. Unless you wanted fast food you need to drive to get some grub. Friday night I went out with some DC Conspiracy folks - we ended up driving to a TGIFridays that was way too crowded so we ended up going to Ruby Tuesday's. At the old venue, there were several amazing non-franchise restaurants within a couple of blocks of the hotels. So, that part was annoying.

Got back to the hotel and hung at the bar. Talked baseball with Rob G while the Mets got their asses kicked. Headed home on the metro - the train ride was long, I was drunk, and it made me really want to get a new car.

Saturday I got a ride to the expo with Carlton and (local cartoonist) Molly - it was Molly's first SPX so I wanted to show her around a bit. I got to walk around, so some shopping - got to chat with Postcards creators who were on-hand: Gia-Bao Tran, Danielle Corsetto, Rick Spears, Rob G, Chris Stevens, and Matt Dembicki.

Bought some great books. I've read PulpHope, The Beast Mother, and most of Project: Romantic so far and haven't felt the sting of buyers remorse. I purchased Hellcity and Pirates of Coney Island, there were several minis I've purchased but their names are escaping me at the moment.

Saturday night I went to On the Border with Chris Stevens, Farel Dalrymple, Jason Lex, and Stephen Gilpin - had some chicken tacos and one-too-many margaritas. Came back and hung at the hotel bar for a little bit before catching a ride home with Evan. I was in a bit of a sour mood by the end of the night despite avoiding the Mets game like the plague from the moment it became 5-0.

Highlights:
* Getting to see so many Postcards folks
* A long conversation with Chris Stevens and Bob Schreck
* Dinner on Saturday with people much more creative than I am
* Finding my cell phone
* Lady at the bar poured me a huge glass of Johnnie Red
* A decent amount of free books passed my way. I can't wait to read them all

Lowlights:
* Taking the metro home Friday night. I need to do something about my current car situation
* Losing my cell phone
* Robin being busy both days - she'd like SPX

Best pitch:
* The Beast Mother didn't even need a pitch, it had an amazing cover. I handed over my money without saying much of anything.

Worst pitch (TIE!)
* Someone told me that I should buy their book because two years ago they reinvented comic-book marketing. I never heard of the book, though.
* A guy whom I've spoken to online, after holding my hand out and saying, "I'm Jason Rodriguez, nice to meet you - you having a good show?" responded, "It'll be better if you buy my comic." Didn't shake my hand, by the way. I just walked away.

I don't know - you'd think a guy who's had his book pulled from Diamond, and lost Small-Press Idol in the first round and never got invited to the pitch round of Platinum Studios Contest would learn how to, you know, network and sell his books. Guess not.

How did I unwind? A nice, long bike ride on Sunday. Georgetown to Bethesda. Stopped at Fletcher's Boat House on the way back and read some comics while sitting along the Potomac.

Making Lemonade. Need Lemons.

I'm writing a new column called "Making Lemonade". It's all about finding and creating opportunities in comics. It's not just an editorial piece, however. There're interviews scheduled (an early column will feature a conversation with Ed Brubaker on the evolution of his career), various types of round table discussions (an editing round-table where a short pitch/script is thrown to some well known comic editors/creators and they give feedback on it/discuss it, a marketing round table where your book is put in front of several publishers/idea guys and they talk about how to sell it, a Postcards round table on creating for an anthology, of course, etc), and plenty of anecdotal little tales from myself and other industry folks.

In preparation for such a large undertaking, I'm trying to get as many of the pieces in place as I can. I already have a fair share of the creators/editors/etc I'll need but it would be nice to have more, obviously, and if you have a story idea or completed comic you'd like to offer up for any round-table discussions I'd love to hear from you.

I'm also looking for any column ideas. Knowing what I'm trying to achieve with this column (beyond increased exposure for Postcards, obviously), what's something you folks would like to see? It's going to be a high profile piece on a well-trafficked site so I want to make sure it's something folks will get something out of.

So shoot me an email at jrod AT jasonrodriguez DOT com or ask any questions/make any suggestions in this thread. I've attached an early look at the first column to the bottom of this post in case anyone wants to see the tone I'm going for.

You have an idea for a comic and you need to get it out there.

You sit down and plot it out. Maybe show it to some folks (not your family and friends) and get some good, constructive criticism. You write the script for the first issue. Maybe you're ambitious enough to write the first four issues to make sure that everything works well. You once again get the appropriate feedback and make any of the necessary changes. After the scripts are done, you go to Digital Webbing or Pencil Jack and you put an ad out for an artist. You quickly find that the talented guys want $100 a page for just pencils. You start to factor in inks, letters, and maybe colors and realize you don't have the bread to put together a strong proposal. So you go with a slightly less talented artist that you can afford.

You get your submission packet put together. Write a cover letter and a one-page pitch. You secretly acknowledge that there are some issues with the whole package but you send it in anyway, right? After all, you paid for it. You send it into Image first. Maybe try Dark Horse and send it into DC anyway despite the fact that they're not accepting unsolicited submissions.

Several weeks later and all the publishers you've contacted have rejected your pitch. You decide to self-publish it. If your artist sticks around you get the whole book eventually put together. You print through a POD publisher and submit it to Diamond but they reject it so you're on your own for distribution. You promote the book on a variety of message boards, send some review copies out, and promote it at a couple of shows.

Time passes, the book's not selling and you're finding that you don't have the resources available to give your book the shot it deserves. You pull the plug, start from scratch, and join the swelling ranks of folks who complain about how the comic industry doesn't work.

The comic industry works just fine. The only problem here is that you didn't create any opportunities for yourself. You were content to do things the way everyone else was doing them because that's what you've been TOLD to do. Creating a pitch and creating an opportunity are two completely different things. One takes, at a minimum, cash and the other takes talent, awareness, and a lot of planning.

So, the question you should ask yourself is, "Do I want to make comics for an audience to enjoy or do I want to bitch about the comic industry?"

If you answered "yes" to the former, this article is for you.

This column isn't going to be solely an editorial piece. There're going to be interviews with creators and publishers who've really created opportunities or took advantage of opportunities presented to them, round table discussions, hands-on editing and promotion exercises, and plenty of stories.

First things first, allow me to introduce myself since a lot of you don't know who I am. I'm a background player, the dreaded editor. I'm still making opportunities myself, I'm nowhere near where I want to be and I still see years of hustling ahead of me.

I started several years ago as a submissions editor for Western Tales of Terror, an anthology featuring some amazing creators such as Steve Niles, Phil Hester, and Tony Moore. It was published by Joshua Hale Fialkov of Hoarse & Buggy Productions and when he offered me the opportunity to edit his new book, Elk's Run, I jumped on it. He liked my notes so much that he made me the Western Tales of Terror editor halfway through the production of issue 2.

We ended WToT at issue 5. I'm proud of the final issue - this is the first book that I had almost complete creative control over. I even had a story in it. It featured multiple Eisner Nominees, sported a gorgeous Kieron Dwyer cover, and was a fantastic read.

Elk's Run was a critical hit. Entertainment Weekly, Variety, Ain't it Cool News, CHUD - everyone loved it. It didn't sell well (perhaps we didn't create enough opportunities for it) so we took it to Speakeasy starting at Issue 4. I think we all know what happened to Speakeasy, they only released a Bumper Edition recollecting issues 1-3 (that sported a gorgeous Darwyn Cooke cover) and issue 4. We finished the series on spec, 8 issues, and sold it to Random House, the largest publisher in America. The collection will be coming out in March 2007 and we now have a lot of marketing muscle behind the book.

Meanwhile, I started putting together my own project, Postcards. A 160-page anthology featuring stories inspired by used, antique postcards I've collected. Talks of quarantines, wars, sickly mothers, and secret admirers turned into 8-page tales that are relatable to our lives. The book features Harvey Pekar, Phil Hester, Tom Beland, Matt Kindt, Stuart Moore, Michael Gaydos, Ande Parks, Antony Johnston, Joshua Fialkov, Noel Tuazon, Robert Tinnell, Neil Kleid - a total of 30 of comics' greatest creators. That'll be coming out in July of 2007, publisher to be announced in the future.

I have edited several other projects coming up in various stages of development. Josh Fialkov's new books, Tumor (illustrated by Noel Tuazon) and World's End (illustrated by Scott Keating), both of which are at various stages of development. I'm working with some new talents on their graphic novels - JJ Kahrs, Eric Hobbes, Michael May, and Jason Copland to help them bring their books to market.

I'm not there yet. But I can look back at my fledging career and pinpoint opportunities I've made for myself or that I've recognized and used them to get where I am right now. Right where I wanted to be all along. Making good comics and putting them out there for folks to enjoy.

Now I just need to make more (it's addictive).

This is designed to be an introduction. I'm about a thousand words in and it would be pointless to dive into a proper column now. I'll save that for next time. Instead, I'll leave you with a story about Postcards.

It starts with my good friend and tremendously talented writer Chris Stevens. He's a huge Harvey Pekar fan; he got a hold of his phone number and decided to give him a ring to see what happens. He ends up talking to Joyce Brabner, Harvey's wife. Over the course of their conversation he somehow gets to Postcards and Joyce tells Chris, "You know, Harvey and I met over a postcard."

Chris calls me up and tells me that I should pitch Postcards to Harvey Pekar. I wait a couple of days, reread my American Splendors and read all of Harvey's interviews I can find. I call him up, pitch him the project - tell him what I'd need from him and he tells me what he'd need from me. After a ten minute phone conversation, Harvey's signed on.

Fast forward a couple of weeks. I'm still planning on self-publishing Postcards. The business side of it all is bogging me down and I don't have the time to be as involved as I'd need to be on the creative end. I decided I needed to bring on a coeditor.

The day I decide to start looking for an editor, James W. Powell sends me an email. He just finished his first comic editing gig, The Wicked West II for Image Comics. James wants to talk to me about editing comics, how to find more gigs, mainly. I immediately write my buddy and Wicked West II contributor, Robert Tinnell, and ask him how James was as an editor. Robert gives me the big thumbs up and I respond to James email with one that essentially says, "Would you like a job?"

Now I'm looking for an artist for Harvey Pekar's story. My list of potential artists is the best of the best of the best. James recommends an artist I'm not familiar with, a man by the name of Matt Kindt. I check out Matt's work and fall in love with it. That night I'm on the phone with him.

Matt tells me a story. He tells me that when he was 16-years-old he wrote Harvey a letter in which he said he'd love to illustrate one of Harvey's stories some day. I knew this was my man. I tell Matt I want to throw him in the potential artist pool and he says he'd love to be considered. Please keep in mind that there was no money at this point and no promise of money. Sure, it would be nice, but for the most part people just wanted to be a part of this.

I send samples of the artists I'm considering to Harvey and Joyce. Within an hour Joyce writes me an email saying Matt Kindt is the one and she'd like to talk to him that night. They're off and running. A fun little side fact, in Harvey's story there's a scene where he reads a postcard from a young illustrator who wants to work on one of Harvey' stories (apparently this happens often).

Production for the book is moving along. Comic Book Resources wants to do a piece on the book but I have no artwork yet. I ask Matt if he can do a promotional image and he sends me something that evening. The image runs with the piece.

The next day I get an email from a publisher who was already interested in the book saying they loved the piece on CBR - it made everyone at their office aware of the book. We talk about Matt's art a little bit and he agrees that it's gorgeous and would work great with the feature story. Knowing this, I ask Matt if he can do some pages for a pitch to the publisher. Matt agrees (along with Phil Hester, Tony Fleecs, Jake Allen, and Micah Farritor) and I put all of these tremendous samples in the pitch. Keep in mind that this pitch was pit together about a month before scripts were do - all of the artists involved went out of their way to put some art together for this pitch well ahead of any deadlines.

A short time later I get an offer.

While this is going on, Chris Stevens pitches me a story for Postcards. The pitch compliments Harvey's story perfectly and it has an added bonus of not being based on a used antique postcard, much like Harvey's, so now there won't be this "odd story out." I not only accept Chris's pitch, I decide that if I lead with his story and end with Harvey's I have the opportunity to run a narrative through the book, something I think a lot of anthologies are missing.

Later on I meet Gia-Bao Tran at San Diego Comic-Con and fall in love with his work. I offer him the lead-story gig to collaborate with Chris and he graciously agrees. Two weeks later I'm on the phone with our interested publisher and I tell him, "I found this guy at San Diego that's amazing and he's doing the lead story with Chris Stevens."

The publisher tells me that he, too, discovered Gia-Bao at San Diego, loves his work, and that I made an excellent choice, raising my stock even higher.

Now, you can look at the evolution of my lead and closing stories and say that it's a string of coincidences. Just a bunch of dumb luck and my apparent need to fit occurrences so that they make a great story.

Or you can look at it and see several people who grasped at an opportunity and made it their own. And, as a result, they are making great comics.

Bottom line: sometimes life gives you lemons. But sometimes you need to plant a lemon tree. Sometime you even need to steal some lemons from the local Bodega. It doesn't matter. What matters is, however you get your lemons, you better use them to make some lemonade.

The Dirtiest Secret

Since I haven’t posted a new story in, I believe, two weeks I decided to give you all a special treat and post a story I originally decided I would never tell. It’s just too embarrassing. It’s also really gross so if you don’t like really gross stories, I suggest you don’t read this. Anyway, let’s go. I’m going to regret this, expect a story Tuesday to bump this one off the top spot.

This story actually takes place this past summer. I was in Boston, visiting my boy, Guam. I got to his place early on a Saturday – Robin dropped me off (she was visiting her family in Framingham). We made some turkey chili before meeting up with his friends to play some kickball.

We played two games of kickball. I haven’t played kickball since elementary school despite the fact that Washington DC has a large organized kickball league that all my friends played in for at least a season. I was alright – I did a good job fielding, not so good at kicking.

After kickball we went to a pub for some food and to start the drinking. We put down quite a few beers before going back to Guam’s house to pimp out for our evening of partying.

We went out to Improv Boston. Guam was hosting an improv show out there and I was coming along as the surprise guest host. We went to Bukowski’s first, had some sweet potato fries and beer. Afterwards we went to the supermarket and purchased some more beer that we drank at Improv Boston. The point is, we were drinking a lot and eating a lot of fried foods.

Anyway…

I cohosted the show with Guam. It was a good time. I was so drunk that I made fun of an albino kid by calling him “super-white” and told the audience that cops can, “smell the spic in me.” After the show we finished off the two six packs we purchased and went back to Bukowski’s for some more beers and some more sweet potato fries.

After Bukowski’s we went to another bar where we met up with Guam’s improv peeps. This part of the night was a bit of a blur. I remember wanting to fight one of Guam’s friends because I thought he was ignoring me. I remember comparing my cell phone to some underage Goth chick’s sidekick. She had some weird story about how she was living in a convent. I don’t remember much beyond that, though.

Guam and I left and the Goth girl split a cab with us. I don’t know where she came from, she was 18, I think. We get back to Kenmore (where Guam lives) and the Guam thought either one of us could have had the Goth girl. Again, I have no idea where that hypothesis came from since I don’t remember shit. For all I know she was grabbing my crotch the whole ride home.

We get back to Guam’s place. I have some more chili and stay up talking to Guam while I sober up some. Guam’s working on a paper for his class; he’s not even close to drunk anymore. As soon as I feel good enough to go to bed I lay my ass down on this uncomfortable couch, the kind of couch that forces you to sleep in a fetal position.

So, let’s recap: Drunk, full of chili and fried foods, tired, and in a fetal position. I’ll beat around the bush and just say it: I shat my pants.

I shot out of bed, remembering that the combination of beer and greasy foods is enough to give the strongest stomach diarrhea and that laying in a “relaxed asshole” position probably didn’t give me a fucking chance of catching this one before it blew.

I run into the bathroom. Much to my embarrassment, Guam is still awake. He says nothing. Yet.

I clean up. I start washing my underwear in the tub and it’s the grossest thing imaginable. I shower off – I won’t get into every little detail but it was kind of like the chocolate waterfall in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory except not as sweet and delicious, I’d imagine.

I get out of the shower, dripping wet. I crack the door open and…

“Guam?”

“What’s up?”

“Listen. I need a garbage bag, a towel, and I need you to promise you won’t ask me any questions.”

A minute later Guam hands me a garbage bag and a towel. Much to my relief he asks me no questions. I put my underwear and pajama bottoms in the plastic bag and tie it up tight. Wrap the towel around me and throw the bag away in the hallway. Come back in put some fresh underwear on. All the while I’m avoiding eye-contact with Guam but he’s just following me around like a friend concerned. Straight faced and waiting for me to ask for some help.

I sit back down on the couch; I probably looked fine, because it all comes out at that point.

“Dude. Did you just shit your pants?”

We both start laughing uncontrollably. Between gasps of breaths he manages to get some more cracks out, “Good thing you didn’t bring that Gothic chick back here, she would have fucked the shit out of you,” stuff of that nature. We finally calm down enough for me to ask him if he had a bucket I could borrow, I’m going to try and go to sleep again. He doesn’t have a bucket but he gives me a big pot.

The next morning Guam and I are quiet, like two friends who are embarrassed that we just shared a “pants shitting” moment. While I’m packing up Guam’s straightening up his place. He picks up the pot and says, “I’m glad you didn’t have to use this.” I tell him that I wasn’t really queasy last night to which he says, “No, I mean as a bedpan.”

We both start cracking up again. I make him promise to never tell anyone about what happened that night (and here I am writing about it on a website). I doubt he kept his promise; he came close to telling folks at the barbeque the next day. We’d just look at each other and start laughing and people would say, “What?” and Guam would ask, “C’mon, can I tell them?” I wouldn’t be surprised if all of Boston knows about this by now.

Anyway, there you go. Probably the lowest I’ve ever been. I haven’t been drinking much since then, realizing that I may have a little bit of a problem. Puke is one thing. We all puke – that shit happens. The moment you drink too much and shit your pants is the moment you say, “I can become an alcoholic or I can’t slow down the drinking.”

I decided to slow down the drinking.