Beardo is the back to back winner of the prestigious Shel Dorf Award for Syndicated Print Strip of the Year (2012 and 2013), and Beardo is the alter-ego of award-winning writer, artist, and musician Dan Dougherty. ComicMix is bringing the first three volumes of Beardo back into print and adding the fourth book in the series out in time for Christmas. We’re using Indiegogo to take pre-orders, in addition to special items only through this campaign, and the campaign ends Friday.
We talked with Dan about the comic, the crowdfunding campaign, and the people lurking with razors if certain goals are met.
For those who don’t know Beardo, how would you describe it?
It’s about a plucky cartoonist with a sweet beard and a knack for finding the punch line in his own life.
What’s the best thing about doing your own strip?
Making humorous observations about my little world that can also be relatable for public consumption on a daily basis.
And the worst?
Making humorous observations about my little world that can also be relatable for public consumption on a daily basis.
What kind of perks do you get when you do a daily strip like this? Do other baristas give you free coffee?
Yes, but only because I saved Howard Schultz from a burning building once. At least that’s what I tell them.
Have you ever been recognized by a fan from your likeness to the character?
Only when I’m at comic conventions and standing right next to the books. However, I did have a lady at a school ask me if I knew the Dan Dougherty who does the comic in the paper. I said I knew him, and he’s a real jerk.
What is the strangest fan encounter you’ve ever had?
I’d say check out the comments section on my gocomics page, I get some interesting people who seem to thrive on using the comic as a flimsy segue into whatever wacky non sequitur is rattling around in their mind. Oftentimes it’s more interesting content then the comic that created it.
As we talk, you’ve raised nearly seven times the amount of money you originally asked for, but not enough to meet a stretch goal, which would require you to shave your beard. Is this good? Are you relieved? Would you rather have your beard or the money?
The goal we original set was low just so we could ensure we’d make it. In hindsight, I wish we would’ve set it higher to give people something to rally around, because releasing four books in a year is a lofty goal that requires some serious coin. That being said, I’m just happy I have such supportive fans in my corner who would’ve backed Beardo no matter what we were doing, and I wouldn’t trade them for all the beards in the world.
When I made the leap to the other side of the aisle, I did so because I had my brothers from other mothers right next to me. And because of both of them I’ve continued to push myself to do things I honestly didn’t think I’d be capable of. Thanks to Kyle Gnepper, I write this column. (OK, it helps that Mike Gold lets me.) Because of Matt Wright, I’ve gone from gingerly tiptoeing around 12 pages of simple interior art to crashing my way through 18 pages of the most complicated, action-packed work I’ve ever done. It’s because of those friends I smiled at complete strangers and pitched my wares with a steely grin, confident that the product on our li’l eight footer could stand next to anything else on the convention floor, and be considering a quality book.
I made that leap, and figured that the world of independent comic bookery was a lone-wolf business. DC and Marvel, Image, Avatar, Boom, and others – places I’d kill to be a card-carrying employee of – but knowledgable enough to know that it takes them coming to me (and me being worthy of them) that would make that dream come true. And given how cutthroat the industry felt from the outside looking in, I always assumed that the introverted artists holed up in the Alleys were happy to sell you a book, and drown their sorrows at BeerCon when the show ended; alone. Now, after half a decade in the trenches? I know now how very wrong I was.
I started in this business alone with my logo-mates in tow. I type before you now, amongst a veritable community of cohorts – all of whom share in my successes, and console me in my failures. It’s only fitting I take time out to give them their due. My column this morning is an affirmation that the Artist Alley is not a dark and scary place. In fact, it’s the most inclusive and sobering reminder that my dreams are what crush the perception of loneliness I’d anticipated long ago.
This past week, I joined a panel of fellow indie comic publishers in a Q & A session revolving around the industry. There were some great questions bandied about, but for my money? The best concerned ‘the hustle’. When you’re a garage band, your merch doesn’t march into the stores without serious work. As I’ve detailed before, the way into every comic book shop is paved in broken glass, and tarnished dreams. Indie publishers’ best chance at initial sales comes first and foremost in face to face pitches. But you see, on this panel, I sat next to two other gentlemen… each representing a side on the teeter-totter of salesmanship. It got me thinking about the process of building a brand, and how those who are readying themselves for their first cons on the other side of the aisle might benefit from knowing the lay of the land.
On one side? I had Dan Dougherty. As many fans and followers of this column know the name by now… Dan is my quintessential nemesis. He’s a sharp wit, a deft hand, and an amazingly well-coifed comic creator. At the comic cons? He’s on the side of the introverts. A fresh smile, a board to draw on, and typically a “table helper” to help handle purchases if his hands are otherwise occupied. But in order to crack the nut, if you will, one must mosey past and have their eye caught on his wares. And after a decade in the trenches, his table is a veritable warzone of brilliance. He has well over a dozen projects available at any time – including the next ‘Revival’ if he keeps it up with “Touching Evil”, and Hellboy-by-way-of-the-Red-Line with “Bob Howard: Plumber of the Unknown”. At the end of the day: Dan wins his customers over with the slow burn. He lets those interested come to him, confident that if they saw something they liked? They’ll like picking it up.
On the other side? I had Onrie Kompan. If Dan’s pitch is a 1, then Onrie’s is a 100 on a 10 point scale. Unlike nearly any other creator I’ve seen in the Artist Alleys… Kompan untethers himself from behind his table, stands, and literally plucks passersby to pitch to. He’s quick on his feet. He knows to butter up the sale with a free giveaway. He mercilessly doles out his elevator pitch. It takes less than 15 seconds to hear the price. And if you give the glint of a yes? Onrie’s already up-selling you from single issues to a graphic novel. It’s jarring to see, to be a part of, and I safely assume… to sell next to. But the proof is in the pudding. Kompan continuously sells out his wares at each successive show he attends.
For those who know me and my Unshaven cohorts… you’ll no doubt see how I consider myself somewhere between the two extremes. It also helps that unlike Dan and Onrie… we’re 3 men to their solo acts. We have a consummate pitchman though, in our writer, Kyle Gnepper. While he doesn’t stand in the aisle to attract would-be suitors… he does stand and beckon to any passing by. In fact, it’s become a bit of a larf for those who know us (and know Kyle can’t remember a face to save his life) to listen to his pitch only to chortle off a snarky response. Gets him every time. But for those folks who don’t know us? Being able to pitch our Samurnauts series in a succinct set of seconds makes for quick turnaround. We’ve enjoyed our victories – with increasing sales per show – now for 5 years strong.
Honesty time, kiddos. My title of the article, “In Defense of the Hustle”, comes out of the debate Dan and I had on the car trip home from the panel. And yes, I drive my nemesis to gigs now, what of it. You see, prior to knowing Onrie by name, I knew him by reputation. Upon knowing I would soon share a space at the dais with someone I’d previously professed “Crossed the invisible line between hungry creator, and used car salesman”, I was resigned to enter the discussion already jaded. But Dan, politician that he is, asked for me to give Mr. Kompan a chance. And I did. And he spoke. And he won me over. Not with his book mind you – I respect that his Yi Soon Shin series takes creative non-fiction to new heights… it’s just not my bag per say – but with his enthusiasm. Truthfully, I’d never step around my table to hawk my wares. But I respect that Onrie has the extroverted nature to do it, and do it relentlessly. And according to his sales figures? He’s on to something. But perhaps akin to Mark Waid’s allegory on breaking in to the industry itself… his way is his way, and no one else’s to take. And so long as he’s not selling next to me (and his neighbors have been properly vetted on his approach)? God bless.
So, I open up the column to your opinions. When you walk down the aisle to a comic con, do you prefer your creators be playful and shy? Can you handle the hard sell on a 5 dollar book? Or do you think there is an etiquette to pitching your passion to passersby? I’m a capitalist through and through… but my friends, what are you?
So I was considering going on a long-rant/love-letter to the WWE, whose Summer Slam pay-per-view and Monday Night Raw this week were just fantastic. I was going to highlight how no other company producing week-to-week content for an audience of millions has the balls they do when it comes to allowing their villains to complete terrible acts without retribution for months on end. I was going to ramble on about how for the first time in the history of the company a truly undersized, under-utilized hero has emerged due entirely to his in-ring ability. But then I realized that while ComicMix is a pop-culture blog and news site… Comic is in the damned title. I might be better served bitching about something comic related. Which brings me to last night.
I attended a ‘Drink-And-Draw’ at a local(ish) watering hole. First and foremost? I was elated to learn just how many south-suburban Chicago comic book artists there actually were. Drinks were drunk. Poutines were consumed. Drawings were rendered. Conversations were had. I was lucky enough to flank my end of the table along with my frenemy Dan Dougherty (who I should mention has just released the second book in his Touching Evil series which could sit next to Revival for book-you-should-be-reading right now), and Wesley Wong, colorist to the stars.
Later on in the evening, Jon Michael Lennon, a compatriot, comic maker, and long-standing pal-at-the-cons moved a chair down to our end of the table, and we got to chit-chatting. Amongst the topics that came up was attending various sized shows. I then lamented that I wasn’t a fan of juried shows. Specifically the recent CAKE (Chicago Alternative Comics Expo) con that Unshaven was unceremoniously denied entrance to for the second year in a row. Jon was quick to chime in. “Yeah. I didn’t get into the [expletive deleted] show either. And I was like, seriously? Have you seen my stuff? Man… [expletive deleted] them.” I’m paraphrasing, mind you.
Jon was right. As he’d go on to explain, he’d found out from those folks within the jury/selection committee/hipster d-bags who get off on being a figure of authority… that they weren’t looking to bring in a local artists whose purpose was ‘mostly to make money’, as far as he could ascertain. I’ll get back to that in a minute.
The thing is, I know that Unshaven Comics is an indie brand. We put 200+ hours into every book to publish. We print in Lansing, IL, 10 minutes away from our homes. We sell only at conventions, and have to-date moved a whopping 10 books via our webstore, and those were to friends and family who simply can’t get to us. That being said? Our books are (now) all-ages, and envelop a style more attune to what might be considered traditional. I was, to-a-point OK with not being considered indie-enough for CAKE. If anything? I interpreted our denial e-mail to be a sign we were too mainstream for their con. Screw it, I guess we’re just knocking down DC and Marvel’s door any day now!
In stark contrast, Jon Michael Lennon and his Cheese Lord Comic imprint could not yell Indie any louder. His art style mixes influences of Robert Crumb and Daniel Clowes. His stories have given my nightmares daydreams. He is a boundary-pushing, down-trodden Harvey Pekar with an imagination that falls somewhere between Francis Bacon and actual bacon. I’m not doing him justice enough. Suffice to say: his work (specifically the Product of Society series he’s been self-publishing for years, as well as a handful of other short works in various other collections) are of the ilk that to me are akin definitively with alternative/indie/whatever-non-conformist label you’d ever give. I mean if you think a comic that questions the size of Jesus Christ’s penis is mainstream than maybe you and I should meet and get coffee.
Now, the idea that CAKE didn’t include Jon or Unshaven Comics, or dozens of other local folks I knew who also did not make it into the creamy filling of their convention resting on our collective desire to earn money for our wares…is perhaps a bit weak. If it is, in fact, true? Well, I’d never submit an application to them again, and I’d freely and happily do everything in my power to sway the masses from ever going to the show in the first place. More likely though, is that this ‘juried’ convention wanted to include those artists whose name and art style follow closer to the hip-and-with-it crowd of horned-rimmed readers who know names like Chris Ware, but couldn’t tell a Kirby from a Crumb.
The fact is that art is subjective. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. It’s how boy bands sell billions of albums, and singer-songwriters are left recording on youtube for pennies. For whatever reason, I’ve never had a problem with a fine-art gallery having a jury for a themed show. But a comic convention never crossed my mind as being a place where lines are drawn (natch) between what constitutes show-worthy and not. Comics have long been considered by the zeitgeist to be all-encompassing kitsch. The trails blazed by Crumb, Clowes, and their brethren seemed to dampen that universal lumping of our medium.
Call it a bit of black on black crime here kiddos, but I see a show like CAKE with its collection of like-minded creators to prove that within even this extremely small, extremely tight community of artists and creators… there’s still an undercurrent of ‘good and bad’ which leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth. Comics to me is all-inclusive. Juried shows, by-and-large, only breed seclusion. And if that is the case? Then I’m right where Jon is:
This past weekend Unshaven Comics attended our fifth Wizard World Chicago Comic Convention … as creators. As fans, we’ve been going to this every year since 2000. It is, for all intents and purposes, our home show. We sell the most books, meet the most fans, and generally enjoy an amazing time. Some, if not all of this is derived by selling the most books, but don’t quote me on that. I am quite proud to report that we hustled and bustled our way to our “soft goal” of a 10% increase in sales over the year past. 333 books left our table, and into the eager hands of friends, fans, and passersby who were lured by the pitch of Kung-Fu Monkeys and Zombie Cyborg Space Pirates. For that? We’re elated creators.
That being said, this was easily the worst Wizard World we’ve ever been a part of –be we just fantastic fans or curmudgeonly creators.
Where to begin: how about show length. As I recall this show used to be over a Saturday and Sunday. Then they added Friday. Then they added “preview night.” This year? They made it a full four days. Hey if it works in San Diego, right? Wrong. When the two largest booths on the convention floor are Chevy and “Smell Like An Avenger” and your panel listings fit on a black and white 11 x 17 photocopy? You don’t have four days worth of con. You have a weekend con stretched to the absolute limit.
Next? The floor plan. There’s a saying, I’m not sure if Wizard is familiar, that goes: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. It’s a great saying. Since Wizard obviously hasn’t heard it (and they most certainly are reading this) let me make it clear as the Invisible Woman. For 20 years the show floor has followed a very simple layout. Enter into the exhibitor zone with small press booths behind them, move to the dealer zone, and then the Artist Alley. Autographs and appearances? Wrapped right into the exhibitor booths. This year? They littered exhibitors with dealers all over the floor, put the autograph area smack dab in the middle of the convention hall, and then shoehorned the Artist Alley in the back third of the hall, split by a few jutting walls and the ATM.
And just to stick it to artists on the far end, they placed the photo op zone right at the end of the hall, ensuring a lengthy queue that stretched into the alley at all times during the convention. Nothing better for book sales and fan interaction like a line in front of your table that only cares about snagging that shot with Lou Ferigno, right? Wrong.
Far too many of my friends extended smiles coldly bookended with sighs of exasperation. Our neighbor from Mid-Ohio Con, the always amazing Eliza Frye, was forced to move her table three times. Three times! Which meant this show, which she flew in for, was a wash at best. Our close personal friend and arch nemesis, Dan “Beardo Comics” Dougherty, was one of the unlucky ones shoehorned near the photo op booth. He “made table” (as we in-the-know like to say) but didn’t quite reach his personal goal. Given that he makes comics for a living? This means less living for Dan. On one hand, I’m glad my arch nemesis failed. On the other hand? He’s an awesome creator who got the shaft by Wizard.
Concerning our Unshaven table… life was somewhat better. Our neighbors, both very awesome in their own ways, out-flanked our paltry table decorations with elaborate PVC and metal shelving installations. Our roll-up sign, and clear plastic tabletop book holder certainly didn’t impress. So much so that we heard from several fans after the show that they simply didn’t find us. It didn’t help that we were table “3113,” but there were no markings on the show floor (or provided program map with font size only Hank Pym could read) that would have assisted people in finding us. It also begs to note that prior to the show, Wizard e-mailed all the artists asking who we might want to sit next to. We listed six friends, all similar in fame and similar in style. We sat nowhere near them. While traffic on the floor itself was steady, it was always apparent how weary the fans were. Suffice to say (and it’d been said before) four days for a two day show does not make for an energetic crowd. Had it not been for our fevered pitching, I doubt we could have even topped the prior years’ sales.
Ultimately the show was just okay. Most creators saw enough sales to warrant their appearance. Most dealers left pissed at their spotty placement. I’m sure all the celebrities enjoyed being the star attraction of the show, in addition to getting to charge anywhere from $20 to $50 for signing their name.
There was a time when Wizard World Chicago was the crown jewel of a Chicago comic geek’s summer. Nowadays? It’s a second rate flea market peppered by those of us fighting in the trenches to earn one fan at a time. Will we be there next year? In order to be successful, we have to be. Will be bitch about it then, too? You better believe it. Wizard has a whole year to improve upon the car wreck they displayed a weekend ago.
In the simplest terms: Put the show floor back the way it was, attract more comic creators and publishers to return, make panels that celebrate the medium that spawned the creation of the show itself; You’re not San Diego, and you’ll never get close. It’s time to own that, Wizard. Excelsior.
Footnote: Post show, we received an e-mail from Wizard asking all creators to “put a good word in” for them to respective fan bases and with other creators. Nothing like owning up to shared feelings of failure, right?
