Category: Columns

JOHN OSTRANDER: The Joy of Writing

ostrander-column-art-111113-4225185I love writing. Most days.

There are days when it’s a job – and it is my job. It’s how I make my living. It’s how I pay my bills. Most days.

Sometimes it’s a grind. It’s not working for some reason. I stare at the blank screen or the empty page and wonder why I ever thought I could do this. Creative constipation. It’s affected every writer I have ever heard of.

Some days, however, it’s a joy. A lot of days.

I most enjoy it when I’m working in my journal. I have a bound book of lined pages and that’s where I go, black ballpoint in hand, to figure out the story or the characters. My thoughts seem to flow into the pen and the ink flows onto the paper carrying my thoughts and they take a form. It’s a physical, sensual thing.

That’s something I teach in my classes. Everyone has ideas but it doesn’t mean anything until they write them down. You incarnate the thoughts and feelings. Putting them into words gives the ideas and feelings a form and then you can do something with them.

If you want to do something with it, you have to write the idea down. You can’t just tell it to someone; that releases the energy. It lets the steam out of the engine. You’ve already told the story so you don’t need to write it down. You have nothing.

It doesn’t matter that what you’ve written is imperfect. It’s always going to be imperfect. I know people who can’t write because it’s never as perfect when they write it down as it was in their head. For them it has to be perfect. For me, that gets in the way. Incarnation is messy. I like that. I like that it takes on a life of its own.

The work in my journal especially is going to be imperfect but that’s all right because I’m the only one who is going to see it. Given my handwriting, even if you did see it, odds are you wouldn’t be able to read it. I myself rarely go back and look at what’s written. It’s the act of writing that’s important. It clarifies what’s in my head and then I can proceed.

I was working in the journal a little earlier on a plot for a series I’m doing. As I wrote, the ending of the arc revealed itself to me. Having a resolution is so important when you’re developing the story; it allows you to focus it and the characters towards that end.

It felt right. That’s how I know it’s going to work. I still have to do all the structural stuff and then I have to hope that the editor likes it as well as I do. Right now, the story has a heartbeat. It’s not fully realized yet but there’s something there.

That’s when it’s a joy. Today, tonight, I love being a writer.

MONDAY: Mindy Newell

JOHN OSTRANDER: Comic Book Math

ostrander-column-art-111016-8593828Math. Ugh. Hate it. Too real world for me. Unyielding, unforgiving, no sense of humor, and numbers don’t talk to me the way words do. My brain isn’t wired for it. However, numbers are a part of comics and comic book writing.

Certainly there are the important numbers regarding sales, but they also figure into telling a story. Let’s go through some of them. First number: the number of pages. Right now, your monthly comic book is 22 pages long. Let’s say you’ve been asked to do a fill-in story or a complete in one story for a given book. There are certain space limitations you need to take into account.

How many panels are in a page? Well, your first page is usually the splash page which means one big panel. This page also usually has the title of the story and the credits box for the creators. Here’s some rules of thumb for the other pages: when there’s a lot of action, you use fewer panels per page. If it’s a talk scene, you can have more. I generally figure that it will average out to five panels a page. The splash page is one panel so you have 21 pages times five panels. We do the match and the whole thing totals 106 panels in which to tell your story.

There are also limits to how much you can put in a panel. This includes speech balloons, thought balloons, captions, and sound effects, if you have them. You don’t want to crowd the art. I generally figure the limit of all of the above is three per panel.

Nor can you do that every single panel. If you do that, you have a wall of words and the reader usually will just ignore it and go on to the next page that hopefully has less verbiage. The exception to this rule is Brian Michael Bendis and, trust me, unless you are in fact Brian Michael Bendis, you’re not Brian Michael Bendis.

There are also limits to how much you can put into each word balloon, thought balloon, or caption. Again, I use a rule of thumb and it’s based on my font type and size. I tend to use Geneva 14 point (my eyes aren’t great and that’s what I can most easily see). So I figure the maximum is three typed lines per balloon or caption. Again, you can’t do that with every panel or you’ll wind up with the Wall of Words that gets ignored. Again, the Bendis Exception applies.

So, being generous, let’s say you average about 1.5 balloons/captions per panel. Do the math. If you have 106 panels per issue, that comes out to 159 balloons/captions with which to tell your story. That’s it. 21 pages, 106 panels, 159 balloons/captions in all. That’s plot, plot twists, characterization, theme, and snappy banter. Ladies and germs, that’s not a lot of space.

There’s a bit more math with telling a story as well. Each panel should have one clear definable action per panel. Batman leaps but he does not leap, land, spin, and hit the Joker in one panel. Asking your artist to draw that is grounds for justifiable homicide. I’m kidding. Your artist won’t kill you; he/she will simply ignore your instructions and find a way to make it work. But they will hate you… with justification.

You can have a secondary character do something in the panel as well but you can’t do that a lot unless your artist is George Pérez who will add more action if you haven’t. The Pérez Exception is the artist corollary to the Bendis Exception.

And you have to do all this without making it seem crowded or rushed.

That’s the mathematical reality to writing a single issue comic book, kids. If you’re doing an arc, then you multiply by the number of issues. The number of issues you’re allowed will depend on the price point (again, a number) the company figures the public will pay. It’s usually four or five issues. So, for an arc, you can multiply the above totals by those numbers. Still not a lot of space. Finally, there are deadlines, which are another set of numbers, namely the date by which it’s all due. Violate that at your peril.

And that, as our friends in the newspaper trade were wont to say, is -30-.

MONDAY: Mindy Newell

DENNIS O’NEIL: Poopface

dennis-oneil-7262329Mr. Grotty couldn’t open the comic book. He didn’t know how long he’d been trying because here, in Limbo, there was no day, no night, no sun, moon, stars, and even if there had been any of those things, Mr. Grotty would not have heeded them because they were all poopystupidpooplappers; this was certain because to Mr. Grotty, everything and everyone was either a poopystupidpooplapper, or it was worse.

The comic book – Justice League Number One, it was called, not that Mr. Grotty cared – had on its cover pictures of seven dopeysnargers who all looked like they were hurrying to get somewhere and Mr. Grotty neither knew nor cared where they were going. But he felt that he belonged there with them, if not on the cover, then at least somewhere inside the comic book. Because he had to belong somewhere, because if he wasn’t anywhere, could he possibly even exist? And if he didn’t exist, then he…wasn’t. And that was pretty poopy.

So he attacked the Justice League: pried and pounded and tossed and humped and jumped up and down on it, too. Nothing. He paused, first catching his breath and then wondering how he could have caught his breath if he didn’t exist and then, when his head either did or did not begin to ache, depending on whether or not his head existed, he considered his situation. He knew that he was in a novel and that would seem to indicate that he existed. But he also knew that the novel had not been published – had, in fact, been read by only four people, not counting the check-chasing poopface who wrote it, and three of those four had said that they thought changes should be made. And since poopface had not given any of the four print-on-paper, but instead had asked them to read the book off computer screens, did the book exist only as digital code, and was that existing at all? Worse: even if Mr. Grotty existed now, would he exist if the book suffered future changes? Couldn’t poopface push a button and cause Mr. Grotty to vanish without a trace? Then wouldn’t it the case that he had never existed, even if he had?

AAAAArrrrrgggghhhhh, Mr. Grotty commented.

Mr. Grotty spat on the Justice League. That didn’t help, either.

So it came down to this: he felt that he belonged with those dopeysnargers on the Justice League cover because he dimly remembered doing feats such as they did, and wearing similar clothing – in short, having another identity – when he was computer code, which is all that he could claim to be, even now, and in order to really exist, he had to join them, but he couldn’t because he couldn’t get the poopy comic book to open.

Finally, not certain whether or not he was exhausted, he sat on the cold stone floor next to the comic book, which seemed to be mocking him. He might have cried if he could have decided the crying status of maybe-non-existers such as he.

Poop, he either did or did not say.

RECOMMENDED READING: Cosmicomics, by ItaloCalvino.

Note: This column only copyright 2011 by Dennis O’Neil. All Rights Reserved. If you’re not a poopface, maybe some day I’ll tell you why.

MINDY NEWELL: Go, Giants! And You Too, DC!

newell-column-art-111003-6498284

Just some rambling…

DC’s New 52 made the New York Times again. The title of the article is “So Far, Sales For New DC Comics Are Super,” by George Gene Gustines and Adam W. Kepler was published on Saturday, October 1, 2011 issue, and was featured on the front page of the Arts Section. According the article, the first five weeks of DC’s reboot of its universe has increased “the sales of DC Comics by leaps and bounds.” The first issue of the new Justice League – which the authors call DC’s flagship book. Really? I would have thought it was Superman, since the Son of Krypton is the flagship character. But what do I know? – anyway, the first issue sold “more than 200,000 copies, compared with the roughly 40,000 for each of the last few issues of the old book.” Well, I hope it keeps up, but these are the first issues. I think it’s a little early to call it a win – after all, the NY Giants just pulled out a win over the Arizona Cardinals in the last three minutes of the game.

(more…)

DENNIS O’NEIL: The Original Reboot

oneil-column-art-110922-6128104All hands brace for a confession….Yeah, you got me. I admit that all the noise surrounding DC Comics’ reboot or relaunch or reinvention…whatever you call it, all the dust raised by this activity has caused me the occasional twinge. I worked in the comics trenches for a lot of years and some of it I still miss. Not all, oh no, but – sitting with bright, talented, convivial people in a room and doping out stories to tell…that was one of life’s joys and I’m guessing that the stalwarts at DC have spent a lot of time recently doing just that.

But they aren’t the first to redact the company’s pantheon of superheroes. Way back before you were born – most of you, anyway – Julius Schwartz did pretty much the same thing. The year was 1956 (I told you that you weren’t born yet) and comics, and their primary contribution to pop culture, superheroes – they’d been sickly for about a decade, ever since some politicians, editorial writers and assorted busybodies had convinced a lot of citizens that comics were spawns of evil. (To be fair, changing publishing and retail realities had something to do with comics’ decline, too.) As Julie told me the story: he and his fellow editors were having a meeting and someone decided to revive The Flash, a once-popular character that hadn’t been seen for years. Julie’s words as I remember them: They all looked at me and I said, I guess I’m it.

They did, and he was. He didn’t merely produce a carbon copy of the original Flash, though. With writer Robert Kanigher  and artists Carmine Infantino & Joe Kubert, Julie gave the world a new Flash – new costume, new origin, new identity. He left the original concept intact – the world’s fastest human – and altered everything else to make The Flash and his world reflect this, the world we non-fictional beings in habit. Julie and his merry men taught those of us who followed them how to do it: leave whatever made the character popular and unique alone, and modernize the rest.

There was no particular fuss over Julie’s work, back in 1956. For him, it was just another day at the office. The network of fan publications was at best just a’borning, as were conventions, and websites, like this one, weren’t even science fiction because, as far as I know, nobody had even thought of them. Sure, some dedicated readers may have reacted, but the world at large…yawn. And that may have been where Julie had an advantage over his editorial descendants.

Imagine doing this complex task with hordes of the curious looking over your shoulder, waiting to see if you fail, some of them, human nature being what it is, maybe hoping you’ll fail. And of course, regardless of how well you perform, a lot of your audience will find fault because they’ve been establishing an emotional attachment to these characters for years – for decades? – and any significant changes is going to seem…well, dammit, wrong! Pretty daunting, huh?

I haven’t read any of the new stuff yet. Have I just convinced myself that I shouldn’t?

Recommended Reading: The Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare and How It Changed America by David Hajdu

FRIDAY: Martha Thomases

MINDY NEWELL: Paging Dr. House

This past Tuesday, August 30 to be exact, the New York Times ran an article by Dave Itzkoff about the “new” DC reboot. It was called “Heroes Take Flight, Again.”

It’s an interesting article. And its tone is that of a penultimate eulogy. To quote Itzkoff, “Within the DC universe, this new status quo is the result of efforts by the fleet-footed Flash to alter the course of history. But in the real world it is a last-ditch plan to counteract years of declining sales throughout the comics business.”

It’s rather like an episode of House, isn’t it? He wants to try a risky, dangerous, could-kill-the-patient-instead-of-saving-him treatment and everybody around him either has an opinion or just wants to avoid the whole subject. Cuddy is worried about the lawyers and the reputation of Princeton-Plainsboro Medical Center. Wilson is busy psychoanalyzing his friend’s penchant for walking on the edge. Foreman objects mostly because he didn’t think of it first. Chase, having forsaken the medical principle of “first do no harm” a few seasons ago when he killed a dictator who was under his care, pretty much shrugs his shoulders. Cameron is too busy in the ER to get very involved, other than to shake her long blonde hair and hot tush in House’s face and say, “you’re just gonna do what you want anyway.” Taub is caught between his Torah – he who saves a single life, it is as if he has saved the whole world – and probably causing the patient even more suffering if the treatment is allowed, and “Thirteen,” facing eventual horrible death herself thanks to the Huntington’s Disease that stalks her, thinks House is right, because she sees herself in the patient, and she wants to live.

I remember when I first heard of Crisis on Infinite Earths. I was upset. I didn’t understand why DC had to go messing with my childhood. But under the able hands of Marv Wolfman and George Pérez, it was, frankly, a thrilling story. To me, when Marv and George killed Supergirl – and I’m still mightily pissed off about that! – that was it, man, I knew this was going to be a classic.

The only trouble was, it started off a wave of “mega-reboots” over at DC that sounded like “good business” at the time. And now, after some 30 years, only seems to make me, and everybody else, yawn.

Infinite Crisis. Final Crisis. Crisis, My Ass. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.

‘Cause most of these reboots, start-overs, begin-agains are so obviously an attempt to “save the life of the patient” that it’s insulting to the reader. Jim Shooter is quoted in the Times article as saying “This whole attitude of, ‘Oh, go ahead, start over, reboot,’ people get tired of that…as storytellers, I don’t know where we wandered off to.” I totally agree with him.

S-T-O-R-Y. A narrative. An account. A tale, yarn, legend, fairy-tale, chronicle. Something that stays with you. That for whatever reason strikes a resonant chord within.

Was The Lord of the Rings a business decision? Was Grapes of Wrath? A Tale of Two Cities? The Three Musketeers? Alice in Wonderland? The Man in the Iron Mask? Peter Pan? If I keep on going this will be a column about the Book-of-the-Month club.

I’m hoping this works for DC. I’m hoping the company doesn’t stay alive just to feed the licensees. I’m hoping that I’m thrilled again.

I’m hoping that Dr. Gregory House can pull another miracle out of his misanthropic hat.

TUESDAY: Michael Davis

DENNIS O’NEIL: The Weight of Fall

It’s the time of year when the world holds its breath. Back from vacation and if you’re old enough and lucky enough to be employed, fill the tank, Monday morning will be here before you know it, and if you’re going to school, either to sit in rows among the other students or to stand and teach… well, there are supplies to get – how late is Staples open? – and maybe some last minute reading and – one, two, three, all of us cop to it now – the anticipation: will the subjects be interesting, will the room’s other occupants be pleasant and/or pretty or trolls, will something that spins existence on its axis occur and change life forever and if you’re a lady who’s just retired after schoolmarming in four states for fifty years will you feel a tad blue – not that I know anyone like that – and, finally, will the English teacher get really frosted at having to read sentences that go on and on and on and on…?

No gold star for me? I’ll live with it.

If you’re a comics geek – and yes, we do know who we are – you may be feeling a bit disoriented. Not long ago, the days that cluster around the September holiday marked the end of major fan activity. The big conventions were history, the summer annuals lie all snug in their Mylar nests, the big publishers seemed to take a breather between those annuals and the big Christmas push to fill stockings with graphic novels, preferably in hardcover. Oh sure, all the regular titles appeared, but they were just … you know… stories. Nothing special. This year, though, there are several conventions yet to come, including the monster-doozie that occurs at the Javits Center in Manhattan, Marvel and DC are going digital, which will almost certainly change the biz, maybe a lot, and – what am I forgetting…?

Oh yeah. DC Comics is relaunching its whole line. Relaunching its superhero pantheon when print publishing is struggling to survive and reinvent itself in what may be the most turbulent climate since Gutenberg set his first stick of type: an important bookstore chain that according to one estimate accounts for maybe fifteen percent of retail sales is closing its many doors and an online retailer is altering the way business is done and nobody seems to know what the hell the e-book revolution will spawn.

All that is figure resting on the ground of a legislative system that seems hopelessly broken and huge environmental uncertainties that might affect publishing and everything else.

Plus…is the Mayans who say the world will end next year? Or am I thinking of that television preacher?

Yessir, Mr. D, the times they are a’changin’.

Ask me if I care. In about six weeks, the Rockland County foliage will begin its yearly display and, for a while, the daily trip to the mailbox will be reason for rejoicing. That will be enough now, and maybe forever.

Recommended Reading: The Will Eisner Companion, by N.C. Christopher Couch and Stephen Weiner. Disclosure: I contributed an essay to this book, but I’m not in the way of any royalties. If you know Eisner’s work, you’ll want to read it, and if you don’t…hey, it’s about time.

FRIDAY: Martha Thomases

 

 

MIKE GOLD: On Conventions and Baltimore

baltimore_comicon_2011_logo_400-2194377I attended my first big comic book show back during the Paleolithic Age. It was either Phil Seuling’s first or second New York Convention, and it was a blast. There were about 500 of us in a Broadway hotel, and at least 475 of us didn’t realize there were so many people who were, in this respect, just like us. We realized we were not alone.

Cut to the 2011 San Diego Comic-Con. Add everybody up – paid attendance, freebees, professionals, dealers, Hollywood types, publishing people, foreign distributors, Communist spies – and there were about 150,000 folks stuffed into that convention boxcar. That’s like a 300x increase. OK, it took over 40 years to get to that point, but still, back in the late 1960s the Seuling show was the only big game in the nation. Today, you’ve got huge shows in New York, Chicago, Atlanta, Houston and/or Dallas and/or Austin, San Francisco… you get the point.

Sadly, as San Diego grew the comics presence diminished – and not just proportionately. Today, the comics part of the San Diego Comic Con is an afterthought. It’s so blatant that it was mocked on Futurama, by no less than Sergio Aragones.

I miss the shows that are truly about comic books. I don’t need the Hollywood whores, and if I want to see celebrities I can just walk around Rockefeller Plaza for about ten minutes. I want that feeling I had so long ago, at the ancient hotels Phil rented for the comparative handful of us to meet and greet each other, back in the days before the horrid eBay forced artists to charge for their sketches and before the evil eBay pulled the rug out from underneath the dealers’ feet.

I can’t say I miss those shows completely, as there are still a few around. The HeroesCon in Charlotte, North Carolina comes to mind. There are others.

This coming weekend, I’m going to my favorite of these few shows. Once again, I’ll be at the Baltimore Comic-Con – I rarely miss it – and I always have a great time. It’s run by good people who love comics and know how to run a convention. It’s got a lengthy guest list and it’s got the Harvey Awards dinner.

There are three other factors that are probably more personal to me. A lot of my friends and collaborators go to it – Baltimore is one of the few shows that Timothy Truman frequents, Mike Grell comes out from the northwest, and Mark Wheatley (who puts me up while he puts up with me) lives in the vicinity. Robert Tinnell, John K. Snyder, Bo Hampton, Ted Adams, Marc Hempel, Denis Kitchen, John Workman, Walter Simonson, ComicMix’s own Glenn Hauman and Robert Greenberger … the list of my friends there just goes on and on. Most important, unlike San Diego or the New York Comic-Con or Chicago’s R2D2, I can actually hang out with my buddies and meet my fellow fans.

Of course, the show is a mere four-hour drive from Connecticut. That’s about as long as it takes me to get from my front door to wheel’s up at New York’s JFK International. The six-hour flight to the left coast is extra. And the Baltimore show is only two days long: Saturday and Sunday. Yep, no padding, no unending lines to wait in, just two solid days of comics’ fanboy fun.

If you can make it, please do. I’ll be mostly at the Insight Studios Booth, and I promise I won’t hit you with my cane. At least, not intentionally. Yep, this is my first show since I destroyed my back. My back’s back, so I’m back.

Drop by and say hello. We’ll probably get into a conversation or something. It’s that kind of show.

(ComicMix editor-in-chief Mike Gold resumed his Weird Sounds Inside The Gold Mind rock’n’blues show, which streams four times a week on www.getthepointradio.com and is also available on demand at that very same venue. He also pens a very political column at Michael Davis World – http://mdwp.malibulist.com/ — where he joins ComicMix columnists Martha Thomases and Michael Davis.)

THURSDAY: Dennis O’Neil

JOHN OSTRANDER: Pro Advice – Hit By a Bus

ostrander-110807-art-2733058From time to time I’m going to use this space to talk about professional concerns gleaned from my experiences of the past twenty-five plus years in the industry and pass on words of advice that I got in that time.

For example – if you go to a Convention and you’re a pro, you’re probably going to be asked to autograph copies of your work. Here’s something I didn’t know when I began and was taught by another pro: keep your autograph separate and different from your legal signature (the thing you sign checks and binding contracts with). Walt Simonson, for example, has a great autograph – looks like a dinosaur. I doubt he signs his checks that way. It makes sense. If your autograph is the same as your legal signature, it makes it easier for someone to forge that signature and that’s not good.

Here’s another bit of advice. I was once negotiating a contract at one of the major companies and I had a question about something in the contract that no one could answer. I was told, “Oh, John. Just go ahead and sign it. We’re all family here.”

My answer was – no, we’re not. I know who and what my family is and the company isn’t it. I applied my “Hit By A Bus” theory which goes as follows: if everyone I knew (and liked) at a given company all went out to lunch together and they were all hit by a bus and killed, all I would have would be the contract as written.

I have lots of friends at lots of different companies in lots of different positions ranging from editorial to management to production to the business end. They’re all personnel and can be promoted, demoted, fired, leave, and so on. The company itself can merge with another, change divisions, be sold, be bought, and more than one has gone out of business out from under me. Businesses will make business decisions that are usually based on financial reasons. The famous line from the Godfather, “it’s not personal; it’s just business” remains true.

I don’t fault businesses for that. It’s what they are. I may have friends at a certain business and, yes, I often depend on them to be friends. I never expect a corporation to be my friend. I don’t care what a commercial that’s trying to sell you something tells you to the contrary. A business is not your friend and certainly isn’t your family. They are a corporate entity and they will act like one. Don’t expect anything different.

Short form: read the contract, any contract, and know what you’re getting into. If you need a lawyer to explain it to you, get one. Don’t take the word of anyone working for the company as to what it means; make sure it’s someone who is not part of the corporation. That’s true outside of comics as well as in. If it isn’t in the contract, it doesn’t exist legally. There is no “understanding,” there’s only what’s on paper. Know that before you put your legal signature – not your autograph – on the dotted line. You and your family will be happier as a result.

And watch out for killer buses.

MONDAY: Mindy Newell

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MARC ALAN FISHMAN: “We Interrupt This Snark for a Shameless Plug”

Hello all. I thought I’d change things up a tad today… and not just tear into a character, creator, or comic that drives me bonkers. I figured instead it’d be fun to discuss a comic I actually love. OK, this may not actually count. Why? It’s my comic.

Unshaven Comics is my studio/self-publishing/merchandising pet project, alongside my brothers-from-other-mothers, Matt Wright and Kyle Gnepper. Back in 2006 we were lucky fuckers who were given a shot to make a book for an actual publisher. I won’t get into the details, but suffice to say we learned more lessons than we earned dollars. We wouldn’t trade that experience in for the world; especially because it’s how we came to meet Mike Gold. That’s not where the story ends though. In fact, it’s where it all begins.

Having finished a project on someone else’s terms, Unshaven Comics looked around for someone else to work for. Unlucky for us, publishing a tiny educational comic book about immigration isn’t the way to get on anyone’s radar. Thus, we looked inward. Why do a book for someone when you can do one for yourself, right? If comics aren’t going to pay our bills, it might as well be something we give a damn about. Thus, Disposable Razors was born. Pie-eyed, we pitched it to Mike. “Anthologies? They don’t sell.” And like happy drunks, we just kept on keeping on.

Disposable Razors conceptually isn’t a hard sell. For us? It’s an exercise. A single issue to tell a single story that leaves enough of a world developed that should we care to return to it, we can. Issue 1 was Kyle’s baby, Chasing Daylight, wherein a group of four guys learn about the frailty of friendship by way of a demon. Issue 2 was fishtastic: Iron Side: Living Will, wherein a retired geriatric superhero straps up his boots on one last mission before he meets his maker. And as I sit here looking at it… Issue 3 is now a reality as well. This time around the three of Unshaven lads really worked as a team (with Kyle penning half, Matt painting said half, and crazy me writing and drawing the other half). Issue #3 is homage to our childhoods. I need only give you the pitch on this one. The Samurnauts™! Astronaut Samurai led by an immortal Kung-Fu monkey fighting evil demon dinosaurs. I can’t even type that without smiling a little.

A recent exchange with my friends at ComicMix posed an interesting question. “What exactly are you looking for, Unshaven Comics?” In our wildest dreams, Marvel or DC comes to us and says “Hey, how about we give you a shot.” In our less-but-not-really-cause-it’d-be-amazing dreams, Image, Avatar, Boom or Dynamite comes to us and says “Hey, how about we give you a shot.” But in the real world? DC isn’t calling. Marvel ain’t either. Avatar and the like are after licenses, and their creative teams are generally established. Trust me, this kind of talk from me even two years ago, wouldn’t happen. I’m an admitted dreamer. But, getting married? A kid on the way? It has a knack for opening the bigger picture to a guy.

Unshaven Comics was founded because at the time, our early 20s, we had our future at our fingertips. We knew the traditional routes into comics. Matt could have easily made a portfolio, pitched himself to editors at con after con, and if he was lucky? Land a gig doing a backup in an annual. Once. And Kyle? Getting into comics as a writer is about as easy as… well… getting into comics as a writer. And me? A jack of all trades, a master at none. I can color. I can letter. I fancy myself a writer. And if I put my mind to it? I can pencil and ink. If I were lucky, a publisher might use me in a pinch (cough, The Original Johnson, Volume 2). But I digress… Like I said, we were founded on the idea that if we were to make it into the industry, it was all for one, and one for all. Insane? You bet your ass. But we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Doing our own books means I have to hang up the snark gloves and ask myself what I want to see in a comic. With backs against the wall, and your soul for sale for five bucks a pop, whilst sitting at a six foot table in the midst of real professionals? It’s exhilarating. And with every sale to a stranger, a knot in my stomach forms. Will they like it? Are fooling ourselves? Does the book look professional enough? Oh my god, is there a typo?

Sometimes, the reactions we get astound us. We had a girl buy book 1 on a Friday. She came back to the table on Saturday gushing. She bought book 2. Other times? We get slapped right in the jaws. Johanna Draper Carlson of “Comics Worth Reading” stopped by our table last year. She flipped through the issue and a long frown came upon her face. “This is just… not good. But I like your logo!” And she was off. She tripped a little over our now dead egos, and moved on. I could wax poetic as to why I think our comics are the bee’s knees… but frankly I’m the artist. Too close to my work to know if I should just be reading them, not writing them.

For the last five years I have given up a social life. Both my and Matt’s amazing wives have allowed their husbands to spend near every hour that isn’t at work, eating, pooping or sleeping… making comic books. Disposable Razors #3 in fact, was near 225 work-hours, last I counted. And those hours? Not 9 to 5. That’s every night after working day jobs. It’s weekends not spent relaxing on a couch, or watching a movie. From taking reference shots, scripting, penciling, inking, coloring, lettering, editing, reediting and prepping the book to print? The last four months of our life have been nothing short of exhausting. All for 36 quickly read pages of art and words. We’re tired. We’re cranky. We’re hoping people buy it, and don’t spit on us.

And we’ll do it all again tomorrow. Why? Because, when you’re living the dream, you never want to wake up.

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

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