Tagged: Unshaven Comics

Marc Alan Fishman: Crowdsourcing All My Fears

blogpostcrowdsourcingimageOh what an age we live in! Marvel banks billions at the box office. DC hits homerun after homerun on the silver screen. And Boom!, Avatar, IDW, and Image continue to stretch the boundaries of the original source medium like no one before them. Yet, it’s we, the lil’ indie folks that are living in the most golden of ages. Why? Because the marketplace has found a way to make us matter; to give us a national (if not international) fanbase all at the click of the mouse. And now, before any art is ever born (outside some sizzling promotional pieces) whole projects can be given birth at only the pitch level. Rao bless you, Crowdsourcing.

Of course… they say the Devil is in the details. Right? Back in 2011, when Unshaven Comics was nothing but a lowly anthology series and an educational graphic novel, we opted to use Kickstarter to fund a dream – the creation of a cosplay suit of armor for our Samurnauts series. We had high hopes that if we really stretched out our arms and begged every single person we knew, we could raise the necessary funds (A whopping $1100 to cover the design, materials, and labor to produce a very high quality suit by some great artisans, Malmey Studios). Well, after an agonizing month of hustling? We succeeded. And in funding the suit, and sending out the prizes? We were left in the hole. When the magnificent suit arrived, we couldn’t be happier. And the joy that our live model (both in the suit and in the book, natch) brought to the kids at various cons over the next 2-3 years? It was well worth the effort.

What tickles me to no end is that what we raised then is a mere pittance in comparison to what our compatriots are pulling down today. And to be honest? It scares the poop right outta my colon for our chances, now that we ourselves are considering returning to crowdfunded-fracas. Even funnier? When Unshaven Comics needs 250 people to vote for them, for free, we’re still having trouble. But I digress.

I look no further than my northernly neighbors Tom Stillwell or Gene Ha, and marvel at their recent successes. Stillwell’s Fangirl garnered over 300 backers, and tipped the scales at over $12,000 to help him produce his excellent story of a murder mystery taking place at the largest comic con in the nation. And hey, if that sounds like you want a copy, look no further for a pre-order. And ole’ Gene? Well, not that long ago, he was begging Unshaven Comics for tips on attending a comic con successfully (no lie! He wrote about it here). And now? He’s proven how much of a powerhouse he is, with his Mae graphic novel project boasting over 1,300 backers, and more money than I’d like to type out. Girl power, indeed.

It would appear perhaps these successes are a boon; that finding a fanbase is totally doable, and with the right moxey, the money needed to see our dreams become reality is just a little elbow grease away. But alas, that’s the kind of fluffy talk that sounds wonderful until you try it. Back in October, my Unshaven cohort, Kyle Gnepper, sought backing for his project Toolbox. It’s a strong concept, paired with a wonderful artist (and no, I’m not talking about me, or the other Unshaven guy). But with all his gumption, moxie, and lucky rabbits feet in tow, Kyle was only able to see close to half his needed goal. In the fallout, he’s been paying for the project anyways, a page at a time. His passion – no different than Tom’s, Gene’s, or any of the other successes we know – wasn’t the key to success.

As it were, name recognition matters. The time you debut your campaign matters. The time you promise it takes to bring the completed project to market matters. The price-points of your wares matters. I could go on. What was once a breezy and open marketplace is now its own economic ecosphere, held in place by unseen forces and unknown rules. Where promotion was once tethered to your facebook fan page, a few reddit groups, and maybe your dusty e-mail newsletter list… is now a fully-developed campaign where updates are a necessary evil, along with stretch goals, and swag far beyond the standard tee-shirt or sketch promise. Heck, in the successful campaign for Albert the Alien, I paid a handsome fee to ensure Unshaven Comics be drawn into the book. Why? Because my money was burning a hole in my pocket, and the guy running the show, Trevor Mueller, is too damned nice.

So, here I sit, with a litany of burning questions broiling in my draft folder for those smarter than myself (it’s a long list, trust me). Does Unshaven Comics actually have a shot at seeing several thousand dollars for a graphic novel of our Samurnauts series? If so, should we be launching it before all the material is done, to ensure we’re far enough away from the holidays so-as to attract wandering buyers? Do we go with IndieGoGo where failure is far harder to achieve (with a lower bar to victory), or go all-in with Kickstarter? Do we seek way-out-of-the-box merch tie-ins for bigger backers? Do we offer wacky and wild limited prizes? Do we call in every favor owed to us by known names in an attempt to garner attention from those who likely don’t know or care to know us? Do we plan a staged coup at a big-time comic con in hopes of being written about on CBR, Newsarama, Bleeding Cool, or Ain’t It Cool News?

The answers, my friend, are all yes. Stay tuned for my greatest leap of faith, perhaps ever, in comics.

Marc Alan Fishman: Notes from C2E2

A week ago Friday, my studio mates and I met once again in the hallowed halls of Chicago’s McCormack Place to ring in the first big show of the year for Unshaven Comics. ReedPop’s C2E2 is to the Midwest what SDCC is to the west coast, or Reed’s sister show the New York Comic Con is to the east.

Unlike those two aforementioned behemoths, C2E2 doesn’t come with huge PR stunts, a multitude of multimedia stars, or what I’d personally dub a wave of humanity. Instead, the still-amazingly-large show boasts only one or two A-List celebs, a mish-mash of medium weighted ‘hey, I know [that person]!’, and an endless sea of comic-making talent. I’d dare suggest that comics are still the primary focus of the show. I might be very wrong on that point… but damn it if I’m not an optimist.

The show for we Unshaven Lads wasn’t what I’d hoped. You see, as the business-end of our business (natch), I’ve always adhered to the mandate that when we repeat a show we should see a ten-percent increase in book sales. To me, that represents us continually adding to our meager fan-base, in addition to keeping those on board who are here with us for the ride. This year, the fifth I believe for C2E2, marked the first time we didn’t meet or exceed that goal. And to rub it in, we did nine-percent less than last year. As the dollar and cents guy, my need for explanation has nipped at me all week.

To be honest: I got nothing. The fact is we left that show having sold 330 books and plenty of posters and trading cards. We didn’t meet our goals, but that won’t stop us from returning next year. If anything, it’s motivated us to up our game. More on that to come in future columns.

If I may stray to a tangental story…

You’d be surprised after pitching the same pitch thousands of times we really only hear a handful of responses. Most typically, ‘Wow, what a mouthful!’, ‘Oh my god that’s everything I love!’, ‘Hey [so and so] c’mere and listen to this!’, or the always wonderful ‘Great. Where’s Dan Dougherty’s table?’

Every now and again, a fan when pitched to will turn the tables to present us with unpublished work of their own. Traditionally its done with an air of pity mixed with hope and pride. In their mind, you showed me yours, now I’ll show you mine eventually leads to them hopping behind the table with us after only a cursory glance at their magnum opus. Because clearly our three headed logo deserves a mysterious fourth. Or so I might assume.

As so many of us know, when you want to break in to the comic industry it can feel like an impossible mountain to climb. An artist can produce a portfolio, and if they are skilled enough (and meet deadlines), work is out there – albeit accrued most likely through networking like an insane mental patient. If you’re a budding writer, your choices are far more limited. And every convention we go to… out comes a few of them right to our table. Their hopes placed in our hands, with a pitch in tow. After leaving C2E2, we Unshaven Lads left with a bit of wisdom to share with all those folks who consider this common practice.

The sad truth of it all is that breaking in to comics is as simple as coughing up the time, energy, and money enough to produce work on your own… and then taking that petrifying leap of faith to put it in the hands of unsuspecting strangers in hopes that they’ll want to keep it in exchange for a few shekels. To sell from the fan’s side of the aisle to the creators though crosses an unspoken line. Suffice to say, when we’re on the creator’s side, it’s to sell, not buy. And trust us, we also come to shows to buy.

In an interview long-long ago, the great and powerful forehead of comics, Alex Ross, was noted in saying that the way he broke in was not in effect any particular meeting or casual chit-chat at a con. It was made due to professionalism in his presentation. His portfolio was neat, clean, and presented with confidence. Meetings were sought, and attended with focus and zeal. If Unshaven Comics left the 2015 C2E2 with any advice to give those would-be suitors trying to make it to the other side of the aisle, it’d be to heed that statement.

It could be clear enough that artists in the alley aren’t often seeking new talent to create with. And for those who do, well, they’d be apt to put up a sign about portfolio reviews. But I digress. The truth of the matter is though, that when a fan presents us with their lone copy of their manuscript in a sweaty manila envelope… there’s little to nothing we can do then and there to be of any help. In between pitching, selling, drawing, and networking… being able to focus, read, and absorb someone’s work isn’t going to happen. Instead, a few phrases will be skimmed, while we figure out a way to not be a dick to the fan we’re still trying to sell our own book to.

And when an artist presents his or her portfolio – even if they are amazing – the likelihood that we’ll have the wherewithal to save their contact information and reach out after the show is as apt to happen as DC nabbing a copy of The Samurnauts, and signing us to an exclusive deal.

In the end, we know how hard that road to the other side of the aisle is. And we know because in 2005, we were the ones walking from booth to booth peddling our lone issue of a comic we knew would break us in. Simply put? It didn’t. So we put it out ourselves, and earned our fans one at a time. We’re still doing it now. And faced with less sales than the year past? It’s only made us hungrier for the future.

Consider that a Chicago-sized deep dish pizza for thought.

 

Marc Alan Fishman: Just Live Your Dream

I recently passed the one-year mark at my day job – in-house graphic designer for a software company in the higher education sector – and in having my performance review I reached an odd catharsis. I realized that I’d been a graphic designer professionally for over a decade, and had finally crossed the bridge beyond what I deemed pixel pushing. With that in mind, my desire for more was evident. Without a professional filter, I let my boss know exactly what I’d had in mind. In a flash of a few minutes, I’d all but admitted that I was being wasted as an asset… and for the first time, it wasn’t just a load of bull-squat. Just so you know: The first ten years on the job is really you learning to become a productive member of society.

My coworker lamented to me (post review-rant) that I was “so talented” (I swear I didn’t pay her to say it), that it baffled her I wasn’t “actually doing what I love.” That stung, but not for the reasons you might think. She was specifically speaking to my desire to work in comics, professional wrestling, the movies, TV, or just about any medium where scantily clad men and women fight for reasons that make little to no sense. While some might sigh that they’ve not attained their dreamed station in life, my ire was raised more because those aforementioned media are all veritable pipe dreams to me because of the systems built around them.

From the outside looking in, becoming an entity worthy of a title page (or credit roll, etc.) is akin perhaps to getting a city job in Chicago. As my Uncle Howard once lamented on his position: “It’s more about who you know than what you know.” For every year as an indie creator attending comic cons, those ladies and gents working at Marvel and DC (and Boom!, IDW, Dark Horse, etc.) all seemed to carry a collected air amongst them. An unspoken bond, I assume, built through late-night editor notes, insane deadlines, and the knowledge that at the end of the day your name appeared next to Batman, Deadpool, or G.I. Joe. And when pressed for how these lucky ducks got into their positions? Well, it’s been said in my column enough for you to know the joke by now: Getting into comics is like getting out of prison. As soon as you find a way to do it, they seal it up on your way out.

And what of the great and powerful WWE? Well, according to their careers page, you must have 5-10 years experience writing for TV before you can even come knocking on the front gate. So how might one get into writing for TV? Well, step one would be not living in Chicago. The simple truth is tinsel town isn’t looking beyond its borders for the next big thing. Why? Because they don’t have to. The next big thing is serving them a latte, parking their car, or telling them jokes in a dive-bar on a Thursday night.

There’s often that illusion that one might be able to make it in their own town – grow a brand, and fan base, and then let the big boys find you – but that in and of itself is a house of cards. Take it from the indie guy whose been doing it long enough to know; there’s plenty of other great talents working shoulder to shoulder with you right where you are, sharing the exact same hopes and dreams. In short, it’s not always going to be the sweat on your brow, or the meticulously crafted prose you spout that will find you your meal ticket. “It’s more about who you know than what you know.”

You can see the rabbit hole now a bit better, can’t you? The fact is that life gets in the way of our dreams. And even those living the dream might be the first to tell you that it’s not all sunshine and roses. As far as I can tell, even those who are making those DC and Marvel comics aren’t exactly raking in fat salaries with benefits. Aside from what is likely the top 5-10% of the industry (my best guess that could easily be fixed by Mike Gold, or others here on this site), the freelance work-for-hire creators are working in a revolving door system that is built to chew them up and spit them out. Unless you’re topping the charts with that issue of Voodoo this month, you’re likely back in artist alley with that copy of Idiosyncratic Youth you’re hocking next to the Voodoo sketch cover variants. And over in the WWE… well, let’s just say that I actually knew a writer who worked for them, and he was pretty clear that it was a quaint stop for any aspiring writer who wanted to be told “no” from old guard at every corner.

Top that with the fact that I have a wife, an adorable three year-old, a mortgage, and a need for health insurance. Natch.

Now, let me make it clear: beyond any specific employer I may covet a position with, I’m doing what I love. I draw a salary for being creative. It’s something I do not take for granted given that my two studio mates have not shared in that luxury. The fact is that with Unshaven Comics, I’m not banking a living wage (or really enough money to do more than print more books and attend more cons), but I’m still tangentially living the dream. Even if pixel pushing keeps my lights on, I’ve accepted that my creative endeavors outside of 9-5 can remain my forever lotto ticket. Whether my number gets called is really up to chance. But if it does, at least I’ll be ready for it. And when that jackpot runs out, well, I’ll still be well employed elsewhere. And security to me is just as dreamy as those scantily clad heroes and babes.

 

Marc Alan Fishman: Into the Great Digital Marketplace!

When Unshaven Comics released its first publication, The March: Crossing Bridges in America, digital comic bookery was still mostly magic. The next year, when we released Disposable Razors #1, a glut of apps flooded the market promising the future for the indies, and ComicMix was knee-deep in online readers. Our books remained ink and paper. Our sales climbed.

The next year, a few of the apps went the way of Star Trek Voyager and Deep Space Nine. Disposable Razors #2 remained a glossy non-app. By the third issue, fewer apps remained commercially viable. Front-runners were forming, and Unshaven met every fan questioning when we’d offer our wares online met with the same confounded faces. Three more years passed, and we remained stubborn. And finally today, I’m happy to say we’ve joined the digital age.

You still can’t get our books digitally as of this posting… but it’s happening none-the-less.

In our defense, Unshaven Comics largely refused to take ourselves into digital comics because we were skeptical of a glut of things. Amongst them: how ubiquitous a platform and file-type might be, how payments would be processed, and how we could connect with fans if they downloaded our books (legally or otherwise) leaving us to sign napkins at the con for nickels.

Suffice to say, that glut is mostly dust now. ComiXology has arisen as the most adopted platform for digital books. Purchases on their app exist as licenses to read and enjoy for life. Of course if they go belly up, who knows. But I guess that’s part of the fun. Payments for indie guys like Unshaven Comics come once a quarter. And you get 50% of what comes in for your books. And as far as con-goers… well, it took long enough to grasp, but we finally get it. The world can exist with both a collectible market and a commodity market.

You can’t get Scott Snyder to sign Batman #75 on your iPad. Well, you could, but that might be awkward if you go back to read the issue. That, and people might think you stole your iPad from Scott, since he wrote his name on it, and that won’t end well for anyone. The digital comic marketplace is built for those looking to consume more than collect. Convention tables sell items for those looking for the opposite. I’ve long read e-mail chains from ComicMix’s Mike Gold over his continually growing digital pile of books he’s currently plowing through.

Quite frankly, who could blame him. The next time I know I’ll be leaving on a jet plane with hours to spend sitting, waiting, flying, and then sitting and waiting more… knowing that I could load up my iPad with a few volumes of all those books I’ve been meaning to absorb could be the difference between memorizing a SkyMall, or actually consuming something amazing. (Sadly, yesterday SkyMall filed for bankruptcy. I totally wanted one of those hot dog toasters because why not. But I digress.)

So, Unshaven Comics will soon be on ComiXology, via their “Submit” program. Off the cuff, it’s a great idea that is being crushed under its own weight. We Unshaven lads submitted our first issue of Curse of the Dreadnuts back in July of 2014. A few days ago, we were accepted in. Now, there was little to no explanation as to whether an initial submission takes longer than subsequent offerings, or if the program is simply that backlogged. And when I say “little to no” I mean “none.”

Beggars can’t be choosers, and I assume that the length of time it takes to get from submitted to being in-app is in direct correlation to the sheer number of indie creators attempting to push their way through. And given the likelihood of the mountainous sales one assumes come with e-publishing a book from the kids down the street, it’s not a surprise if ComiXology doesn’t place more emphasis on expedience with the program.

But let’s get back to the bigger point. After years of fighting it, Unshaven Comics has given in to the digital devil. The fact that with a little promotion, a little luck, and maybe just a lot more luck, we might move a few issues. And perhaps in another five months another issue will hit that digital rack, ready for hungry fans.

The system can only improve with time. Technology will continue to be adopted at incredible rates. Media will continue to exist in the shifting sands of ownership versus permanent rentals. And comic book creators will have a new avenue in which to compete with the big boys. And while our place within the app will be akin to our meager alley tables at the big conventions…

A spot on the floor is all it takes to earn a fan. Digital or otherwise.

 

Marc Alan Fishman: The Responsibilities of a Show Promoter

Having concluded an exhausting round of conventions (with one more to go in November, baby!), I find myself in awe of those brave soldiers who put on the shows themselves. From the giant conglomerate-hedge-fund-corporations with deep pockets, to the lonely islands that build their shows in small hotel ballrooms (like Days Inn… screw those who can afford the Embassy Suites!), VFW halls, and auditoria that double as bingo halls on off-nights. Simply put, a comic con is equal parts conference, summit, trade show, and flea market. Balancing these elements into a single entity is like throwing your kid’s birthday during your wedding with a Bar Mitzvah taking place in the adjacent ballroom. So, what makes a good show… from the eyes of an artist?

When I made the transition from fan to creator, my expectations for a show runner where slim to none. I honestly figured buying a table granted you… the table. Maybe a few chairs. But over time, those wants have shifted decidedly towards needs. Not that Unshaven Comics is in much (if any) position to have desired expectations, the glut of shows that exist now pull for our attention – and table fees – and word travels fast when it comes to which shows are must attend and which are must give a crap.

The Cost of the Table or Space

First and foremost, the cost of the table must be in proper ratio to the number of butts in the building. Wizard charges artists upwards of $350 – $450 for an Artist Alley table. In Chicago though, the stream of traffic typically matches the price – allowing most Bohemians behind their buffets to earn back the cost of said countertop in advance of the show coming to a close. I imagine much is the same for a vendor seeking exhibition booth space. And where applicable (see: ReedPop!) finding ways to nickel and dime us at every opportunity – want another chair for that booth? $85! – isn’t the best way to earn our love. We know we’re a captive audience… but that never means we have to like it. And for those vendors who aren’t being backed by marketing budgets, the added cost to power a booth for four days may not be worth it after a while.

The Fans in Attendance

Table price aside, I’d mentioned traffic. Here, the correlation between happy fans and happy artists are one in the same: if one group ain’t happy, the other won’t be far behind. I can’t count how many shows we saw fan after fan in a slump because of any number of reasons: perhaps waiting on line for hours at a time for a ticket for the voucher for the opportunity to look at the door outside of the hall where they are letting that one guy sign autographs for 20 minutes before his handlers whisk him off for a two-hour lunch. And when that fan is just three people in line after they set the cut off? Guess who he’s going to take it out on? Us. A lot. He’ll listen to the pitch for our book. In another world where he got that ticket, he may even give us a shot (he needs something to read during the hour long queue to sit down). But when the day started with a four hour wait for that McGuffin pass, followed by a half hour waiting to pee in a bathroom that Cthulu would be appalled by, followed by dropping over ten bucks for a hot dog, chips, and a soda… multiplied by the thousands who felt the same pains? Doesn’t make for a buy-happy experience. But I digress.

Traffic Needs Roads

The show floor (and corresponding venue) must be a planner’s nightmare. Organizing the fan areas (for photos and the like), gaming zones, autograph areas, the Artist Alley, vendor space, and panel rooms is a dance most choreographers would shy away from. The key to it all from the artists’ perspective? Flow. We want a stream of traffic to mill about the aisles in a steady queue that keeps our hands busy. When the only draw of a show during a given day takes place (“See Patrick Stewart high five Billy Shatner in Hall H!”), the monsoon of militant attendees makes for an awkward hour. Suddenly free-wheeling loiterers are collapsing in a heap to find a seat elsewhere, and you hawking your wares becomes plain insulting to them.

Fans Need Incentive to Become Fans

Simply put, a convention show runner is responsible to entice their attendees to explore every nook and cranny of their convention hall. I can’t count how many times we’ve heard how someone stumbled across us never expecting to purchase. While a decidedly pious few announce their love of shows specifically to seek out the new and odd… most are there to snag that deal on back issues or trades, get the autograph of that now-B-Lister from the Show-They-Love(d)-So-Much, and maybe waste some time at a panel or two. Artist Alley is always feels seemingly like an afterthought from show runner’s perspective. We pay the least to be on the floor, and our DIY table-scapes are rarely seen as a draw large enough to bolster attendance.

But consider my hypothesis: the Artist Alley is the lifeblood of a show. Yes, celebrities and razzle-dazzle gets people in the door. But those precious minutes spent on line, and then snapping that quick photo are only a small percentage of the opportunities that exist in a given con. If I’m to be bold, more often than not, fans discover in the alley. They have the chance to meet face to face with creators and pick their brain (while conducting business, mind you), as well as see the past, present, and future of the industry that spawned the cons in the first place.

I’d put the onus on the show runner’s to push the artists (and dealers to an extent) just as much an attraction for their conventions. Introduce attendees to the notion of making a sketchbook filled by artists in attendance. Consider “con bingo” where fans are rewarded for making purchases from every zone on a given floor (or even just for listening to the pitch). In essence: reward the fan who chooses to enjoy the entirety of their admission. At the end of it all… no one can complain (within reason) if they felt that they saw every fan have the opportunity to converse. That is to say (ahem, Mrs. Dorman), the biggest responsibility of the show runner is get butts in the hall, and get them mingling. The responsibility of we who man the tables… is to make it worth their while.

 

Marc Alan Fishman: The Road Less Traveled

A little over a day removed from the New York Comic Con, I found myself in a bit of an existential funk. My bearded brethren of Unshaven Comics and I had seen a whopping 40% increase in our book sales. On all accounts, we should have been cheering and rejoicing the entire 14 hour ride home. But, after our 36th hour in the car over a span of five days – with highway hypnosis beginning to creep around the edges of our vision – we turned to a game of “Would You Rather.”

This is one of those silly time-wasters stoners and the road-weary play to stay alert. One plays it by coming up with increasingly insane parameters from which each party member must choose. Generally this comes after an hour of Marry, Boff, Kill, which for the sake of this article, will not be discussed. But I digress.

Amidst choosing whether we’d “choose to suffer from an hour long seizure once a week”, or “have all our teeth removed without anesthesia,” I’d landed on a very controversial question. It’d been a query long-standing amongst us since the transition from our long-time friendship to a budding business venture. I asked, coldly:

Would you rather make it in comics, and know that the other two would never enjoy… or be in Unshaven Comics together and know we’ll never see the success we’re continually chasing with each passing year?

The question came to me after six years of attending conventions, with a résumé that still would appear no better than an intern’s after some time fetching coffee. Or, perhaps, far worse. To date, Unshaven Comics has produced a single commissioned piece, for which we were paid essentially Five Dollars an hour, to split between the three of us. Beyond that, we’ve been a solo show, self-financed long before the word crowdsourced was in the vernacular of today’s con-goer. As we were placed on the outskirts of the Small Press Zone of the NYCC, we had front row seats to Marvel, Boom!, Image, Dark Horse, and the like (DC apparently is so West Coast now they only sent some Batman suits). Forced to look at every publisher we Unshaven Lads had pipe dreams of working for left me thinking about those roads not traveled. It reminded me of Mark Waid’s non-joke about how breaking in to comics was like breaking out of prison – as soon as you figure a way to do it they seal it off. After six years in the trenches, I’m apt to believe it.

Before nodding off one of the late nights during the show, Matt lamented to me. His friend, now working as an inker for Marvel, was not much of a name when they went to college together. As he put it “he was just sort of there, and then, he wasn’t.” To see him now, with several variant covers, and the inking gig next to his name, Matt was remiss not to think why he hadn’t been lucky enough for the opportunity. When pressed, he recalled said friend landed at the House of Mouse by literally hanging around their booth so long they eventually threw him a bone. And like so many (so I hear) who actually make it, he took the assignment, completed it to satisfaction, and did so as fast as he could. Reliability is the secret sauce in the comic game, so I’m told.

Through the trials and tribulations of becoming an Indie Creator™, I’ve come to the conclusion that making it into the business (as in having one’s name under a known masthead, instead of a self-made vinyl banner) is akin to finding love. It’s not so much about desperately seeking it out, as much as being ready for it when it comes. If I’m to be brutally auto-biographical, I was a bleeding heart in high school (like many, duh). I was always in a constant drone on how woe I was over the fact that seemingly everyone was dating, kissing, and being in love… whilst I pined, and grew a pair of bitching sideburns. I moved on to college having only dated a very nice girl who in retrospect pity-loved me long enough to give me some semblance of confidence. After what I’d dubbed the truest breaking of my heart, I decided that I’d spend my time working on me instead of lamenting for my litany of lonely nights to follow. Less than two months later, I took a girl out to dinner. She’s now the mother of my son, and the love of my life. Natch.

But, back to that errant question. My brothers-from-other mothers did not hesitate in their answers; both opting to go down with our ship over the notion that there can only be one. I should note that Matt also started his answer with “Eh, don’t let the curb scrape yer’ asses too hard!” before digressing. It’s part of his je ne se quoi.

Their answers rekindled my waning spirit. After six years spent making great comics, and earning the respect of those who sit next to us in parts of the con floor the real publishers pity-date on rare occasion, I’m proud to declare I could give two farts in the wind if I never pen an issue of Batman or The Strangers. I’m making books that a continually growing base of connoisseurs plunking down their cash. I’m working beside two rare talents whose ambition, desires, and fit snuggly over my faults. Together, we’re not a lonely island. We’re a team built to succeed on our own terms. And six years of continually expanding sales numbers will build bridges elsewhere in due time. And if it never happens? Well, then I double-down on the ideology:

It’s not about where you’ve been. It’s about where you’re willing to go… and who’s willing to come with you.

 

Martha Thomases: Doing The Comic Con-Con

Knitting YarnThere was one point at this year’s New York Comic Con when I almost said, out loud, “Do you know who I am?” That’s because I was having trouble getting my badge.

Here’s why I’m glad I didn’t:

  1. It’s a dick thing to say, the kind of thing that proves a person is self-absorbed to the point of obliviousness.
  2. I might have made a mistake when I registered, so the trouble might have been my fault.
  3. This had happened the day before. I am willing to bet that George Clooney didn’t ask if anyone knew who he was. At all times, I aspire to be at least as well-behaved as George Clooney.

Still, it’s an indication of how much things have changed in the short life of this show that I needed more than my smiling face to get in.

I understand that, with more than 150,000 people expected to attend, that it can be difficult for the staff to keep track of everybody. Unlike their other New York consumer show, Special Edition, NYCC is packed to the rafters.

There was a time when very few people wrote about comics, and I knew all of them. Even now, there aren’t that many people who write about comics every week. The (probably overworked and underpaid) person at press registration treated me like I was some kind of scam-artist trying to put one over on her.

Compare this to the way my pal, David Glanzer, says that San Diego treats press (and they get an even bigger crowd):

“I know press registration is a very difficult area. Heavens knows we’ve had our issues in the past. However we’ve actually received criticism for who we consider for press credentials. The truth is we have always considered independent press and bloggers/podcasters as our mainstream press. They are the ones who write about us throughout the year (not always positively LOL) while the bigger outlets really only tend to write about us once a year or so. The independents reporters have been with us since the start and they really still are the lifeblood for our publicity.”

The Javits Center is simply not designed for this many people. I mean, it’s not that well-designed to start-out with. Unlike, for example, the San Diego convention center, this has rather narrow hallways, and the exhibition floors are not close together. Under the best of circumstances, one must do a lot of walking. In this case, it’s nearly five Manhattan blocks (about a quarter mile) from one end of the building to the other.

When you add 150,000 people, it’s easy to create anxiety.

Still this year’s event seemed to run more smoothly than last year’s, at least according to initial feedback. There were lots of signs saying, “Cosplay does not equal consent,” and, while I don’t know if they make any difference (I’m not in costume), they made me feel more welcome. Perhaps in a related event, there seemed to be just about as many women in attendance as men.

The Mary Sue had a room for Geek Girls, which was a lovely respite in a sea of bodies. The room had signings and press materials, but also comfy chairs and books to read, and a crafts table to make friendship bracelets. I sat for a while with my knitting, talking to strangers about what they wanted to see and do. Truly a delight. I only regret that, by talking about it, I’m probably encouraging it to be more crowded next year.

Here are my suggestions to make this a better show:

  • Find a bigger venue, or additional venues. Not only was the exhibition floor jammed, and Artists Alley jammed, and various panel rooms jammed, but the hallways were always jammed as well. I didn’t go to any panels because there were lines everywhere and I was overwhelmed trying to figure out which mass of people were lines for which rooms.

The Javits Center is not designed to hold so many people. It was designed – poorly – for trade shows, not mass media events. More space would permit some room to breathe.

  • Set up special areas for cosplayers to change and to pose. It’s annoying to stand on line for half an hour to use the ladies room only to find that the stalls have been full of people changing, not peeing. Similarly, a lot of the clog on the show floor is people posing for pictures and expecting traffic to stop.

If there were special rooms set aside for changing, and special areas for pictures, then cosplayers and their admirers would have enough room to enjoy themselves, and traffic would flow more smoothly.

I don’t mean cosplayers should be segregated. I love seeing them randomly in the crowd (and on the subway). They make the event much more fun.

  • Now that fans are getting the message that harassment is not acceptable, can we teach them other aspects of crowd etiquette? For example, if you want to stop and talk to a friend, please step to the side. A bunch of people having a conversation in the middle of the aisle blocks the flow of traffic.

Maybe stop-lights at major intersections? I don’t know. I just want to be able to walk with a normal gait, instead of pivoting at a moment’s notice.

  • In general, we should remember that we are all humans in this together. Pay attention to your peripheral vision, people.

I get very short-tempered in crowds, but then I’ll see someone I know and be happy again. Klaus Janson talked with me about the blueberries at the Green Market. I brought the world’s most delicious matzo to fellow ComicMixer Marc Fishman and the Unshaven boys. I saw all kinds of creative new ideas for comics and illustration.

And then …

Some oblivious person with a backpack swiped against me hard enough to rip my sweater. My beautiful, one-of-a-kind hand-knit sweater.

Didn’t he know who I am?

 

Marc Alan Fishman: New York, New Sales, New Aggravation

So Unshaven Comics finds itself once again in the loving bosom of the Javits Center and the New York Comic Con. As I reminded you last week, Unshaven split its booth space with ComicMix in 2013. This year we split with the lovely Jim McClain of the Solution Squad (and subsequently Reading With Pictures). As of this writing ­– literally being written hours before you are likely seeing it posted – Unshaven has had some significant ups, and some hilarious downs. Let’s list them until I’ve wasted enough of your time.

Up: Sales!

It’s always good to see a rise in sales. Given our booth placement (ahem, Marvel-Adjacent) we figured we’d either be in the money or left drowned by lines, crowds, and cheering… and find ourselves in Bone City. Luckily for us, Marvel erected a large wall across from our table. This houses their crowds well enough, and allows us ­­– with a little strain ­– to be heard. And when we have someone’s ear, according to my data, we’re 40% likely to get that sale. We love those odds. And suffice to say since we learned to upsell our typical single comic to a four-book pack (which includes some freebie swag we’re willing to lose profit on to bolster a larger book sale), we’re seeing far more than the 10% growth in books moved that we seek as a baseline for a return con visit.

Down: Pitches!

Data is Unshaven Comics’ friend. It allows us to transcend anecdotal feelings, and instead supply ourselves with factual evidence when it comes to figuring out if a convention is doing us well or kicking our keister. With that being said, I am sad to report New Yorkers aren’t the nicest people we’ve dealt with. In the same amount of time spent on the show floor, Unshaven Comics is pitching about 20% less than we did at C2E2, or Wizard World Chicago. NYCC boasts traffic on the floor greater than both Chicago shows combined. The simple fact is that people are on the move at this convention. More movement means less fine folks to pitch to.

Up: New Fans!

As I mentioned above, seeing such a high closing rate is compounded by the fact that 90% of our sales are to new faces. New faces to me, proves several fun notions. It stands to argue that seeing new folks continually buy our li’l rags proves our product (and likely our passion and pitch) are worth their mettle. It also stands to consider then that the audience for sequential fiction isn’t on the outs like some would have you believe. While yes, I’m sure DC and Marvel and the like aren’t thriving on the racks like they used to, with the continuing growth of the convention scene, we’re seeing a real change to the shape of the market at large. While fans may not flock to the local comic shop every Wednesday as we’d all hope… New York Comic Con continues to instill in me the idea that maybe the fans are just more apt to explore and sample when they can meet creators face to face.

Down: Our Old Friends! Buses! The Price of Tater Tots!

OK, call this my little rib and stick at those we know and love (and New York at large). We’re two days into the convention, and no one save for Media Goddess herself, Martha Thomas, has made pains to say hello. While our editor Mike Gold dined with Debutantes and Dames at the Puck Building Party, and other East Coast Corroborators did whatever it is they do, they’ve not even waved a “Hi, and go ­hug­ yerself!” to we bearded lads. And on top of it, tonight I paid two dollars to upgrade my fries to tater tots, only to be given five of them as a serving. Sorry New York, Chicago understands portion size. And before some crazy Yankees fans point me to Manny’s or what-have-you, Mid Town and sore asses aren’t conducive to jaunts elsewhere. But I digress.

Ups, Down, and All Arounds:

Ultimately, New York Comic Con thus far has been everything we’d hoped it would be. Our sales are tracking on point as desired. Matt and I have enjoyed a few commissions. Our tablemate Jim is learning some valuable lessons (and apparently eating a hell of a lot better than us). And our hosts, the lovely Glenn and Brandy Hauman have been nothing short of perfect inn-keepers. We remain hopeful with two days left on the show floor, the best is yet to come.

Once again, Unshaven Comics would like to remind you they are at booth 1361, and could sure use some extra business to make life dandy. Stop by and mention this article? And Marc will personally thank you, and toss in some free swag with your book purchase.

 

Marc Alan Fishman: When Unshaven Comics Took On Marvel…

…and won? Well, we won’t know that until October 13th when all our data is tabulated. But the old adage applies: it’s not so much about the destination as it is the journey that matters. In this case, the journey is that of the punk rock garage band attempting to overcome the man. But first, a little history.

Unshaven Comics partnered with ComicMix in 2013 to exhibit at the New York Comic Con. Over the course of four days, sales records were decimated. Beards were bristled with pride. New York’s con felt like a wave pool, where every few minutes, a shallow tsunami rolled past our booth, and thanks in part to a helpfully pitiful sign (“Can I tell you about my comic book?”), customer after customer soon parted ways with our book(s) in hands. Here we are a year later, and ready to return with the loftiest goal we’ve ever uttered. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

At this year’s NYCC, Unshaven Comics is untethering ourselves from ComicMix (but we know they won’t be too far away… like the paternal nudgeniks we know them to be) and shacking up with Jim McClain of the Solution Squad to staff a small press booth across from the biggest and best publisher working today. You may have heard of them. No, not First Comics (Boom, roasted.). Marvel Comics. And with but a swatch of carpet between their monstrous exhibit and our little meager table? Well, it’s either going to rock like an Eddie Van Halen solo over a Flea bassline with a little drum fill from Neil Peart… Or it will suck like Courtney Love.

I’m all about transparency kiddos. Last year, Unshaven Comics sold 524 books over a four-day period. Our business plan is built around setting a goal to see 10% growth in book sales every time we return to a convention. That would mean we need to see roughly 53 more books sold. Given how sales looked at our most recent conventions, we’re very confident we can see that happen. I am a “pie-in-the-sky” kinda guy, so I’m personally looking to leave the Javits Center 800 books lighter. And because I’m not one to hedge bets, we’re packing 1,000 of them. This isn’t hubris, kiddos. This is positive thinking.

As it stands, Marvel Comics is crushing it with their movies and TV shows. DC isn’t far behind with decent love for Arrow, excitement for the Flash, and “it doesn’t suck that much” feelings over Gotham (and truth be told, I’m liking it so far). But let’s not beat around the Groot here. Marvel is in charge right now, as they should be. And to be sitting across the aisle from them at the second largest convention in the country is an opportunity me and my chiseled-chinned cohorts will face in a few days. The run-off from a “destination” booth such as theirs alone will rival the total traffic we saw on the outskirts of the far wall, back a year ago. And knowing that our Samurnauts pitch is only 30 seconds long (see Gene Ha’s video here), it shouldn’t take long for us to pitch, wow, sell, shake hands, pass over to Jim… and move to the next awesome fan.

It will also help that above our table will sit a pair of posters to catch a wandering eye. We’ve decided it’s always a good idea to make a bad impression, so we’ve made “The Hipster League” as well as the “Brovengers.” They are both worth a chuckle, and will do what we need them to do: Disrupt someone who is wandering (with or without purpose) and get them to stop and listen to what we have to say. As more and more conventioneers question how to make a show more profitable, Unshaven always takes the simple solution. In this case, make em’ laugh, make em’ laugh, make em’ laugh. After the guffaws comes sincerity and the promise that our books were made with our tongues no where near our cheeks. Much like a little company I know that promised a picky movie-going audience they’d root for a talking raccoon with a gun. Natch.

And if Marvel should be leading a rousing crowd in a fury of ear-peeling cheers for their wares, well then, we’ll hold our signs higher, and be just that much more desperate for attention. Trust me, it works.

The key to it all – as is the key to whatever success we’ve enjoyed thus far – is really in catching someone’s eye, and then being passionate about our product. Backing that up with a unique concept, and a quality product priced appropriately certainly helps too. It also never hurts to use what little attention we can garner prior to the event to help amplify our plea. So, to all my east coasters making travel plans to New York in the coming week, I have but one simple question to ask:

Can I tell you about my comic book?

Unshaven Comics and the Solution Squad will be at the New York Comic Con in Booth 1361 across from… well… I am Groot.

 

Marc Alan Fishman Celebrates the Wee Con

Kokomo-ConAs I fully decompressed from Wizard World Chicago, I looked towards the end of the Unshaven event calendar. On it: the Cincinnati Comic Expo – competing against the Cincy Comic Con, Cincinnati Comic Con, and the Cin City Comic Massacre (I think two out of three of those are real). Then, onto the mammoth New York Comic Con, which will boast near San Diego level of attendance. And, finally, gracefully, completing at the Kokomo Comic Con, in Kokomo, Indiana. You’ll get there fast, but take it slow. Sorry, it had to be said. And with it being said, I’m elated that once again, Unshaven will return.

The show itself feels like the comic cons I only heard about from old timers (like everyone on this site minus the Tweeks, Emily, and myself, heh heh heh). It’s pop-culture D-lister, and flashy/trashy exhibitor free. In their place, small publishers (ahem), independent freelance artists and writers, comic book and toy dealers, and a great handful of truly unique artisans – like the educational toy makers Cogbots, and the Highwind Steamworks, steampunk jewelers extraordinaire. The best part? The guest of honor, one Denny O’Neil.

Perhaps I’m a bit jaded in my love for the show. I was a crucial stepping stone in introducing Mr. O’Neil (who I’ll be uncomfortable calling anything but, until perhaps we shake hands in person) to the show-runners. As Unshaven had previously been attendees at the show for four years running, we had become more than a table-fee to Shawn Hilton and his crew. I dare say we became friends. Sure, his store is always ready to stock our books. And sure, I may have ensured we got prime floor real estate for making introductions for way-more-well-known-legends, but at the core of it all, the Kokomo Comic Con and its purveyors are fans first. I respect that. Hell, I live that.

All buzz marketing aside, Kokomo Con represents something I am coming to cherish more and more: a convention that can be enjoyed in a single day; where comics and community trump blatant commercialism. Before I get too deep into that sentiment, let me make something clear: I’m not saying Wizard or Reed or the San Diego Comic Con (or whatever gigantic conglomerates exist in the comic book convention circuit) are bad for building their Frankenshows.

As a strict capitalist, Unshaven Comics couldn’t exist without them. But with this past Wizard show, there’s certainly an energy drain when you sit behind the same table for four days straight, and see an unending queue of potential customers. And those customers are always quick to denote that they “just got there”, and are “checking everything out.” Every sale is a war with their desire not to miss some unlit corner of the show before potentially returning for a purchase. But I digress.

The single-day community convention is devoid of such pretense. It exists to excite for one day, and one day alone (duh). Because of that, the attendees tend to enjoy all of the convention. There’s no need to arrive hours early for the potential of snagging that autograph by the third extra in that show you watched back in the eighties.

Even if the entirety of the Kokomo Conference and Event Center is packed to the nines with booths, a show-goer will be able to peruse everything with time to confer with every artist and dealer. The air of the show itself is that which I revert to when I think of comics and my ill-gotten youth: it’s all about discovery, discussion, and debate. Find me a swatch of NYCC floor space where someone is truly digging through a long-box for that Suicide Squad #18, and I’ll eat my beard. At the smaller shows, the fans that arrive at the door are there first and foremost for guys like me (and way more for guys like Mr. O’Neil). And while we’ll never sell as many books in a given day there versus a NecroNomiCon… the sales we do make tend to make us life-long fans in lieu of passersby giving us a pity purchase.

At the end of day, there’s room of course for both kinds of cons (and to be fair, I think the Cincinnati Comic Expo will reside somewhere between the two). But phaser to my forehead? Color me simply. The shock and awe of the major shows has worn me thin, and in their wake, I yearn for intimacy. A show where one need not shout to hold a conversation. A show where you’re invited to learn, to discuss, to debate, and to celebrate specificity. A show where you can get that cherished issue of Green Lantern / Green Arrow signed, and not have a security guard breathing down your neck to move it along. A show where a truer comic book fan may truly be themselves… all without having to drop significant coin on that selfie with the best friend of The Great American Hero.

And that, my friends, is a convention worth looking forward to.

 

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