If you've seen my wife's blog, you'll get a pretty good idea of our experience at the San Diego Comic-Con thus far. In fact, if you haven't already read her two posts on the subject, go over and read them now. I'll wait.
Ready? Okay, here's my experience.
Overall, I have to admit - I find the convention a bit of a depressing experience these days. If I were coming just to soak in what's out there on the market right now, looking for interesting titles I wasn't aware of and meeting up with artists and writers whose work I've been reading, it would be pretty grand. The convention floor is absolutely enormous, and most everybody who's anybody in the industry is here. Well, the size of the floor makes it hard on the feet - my soles and calves are still aching as I type this - and the teeming crowds that constantly surround and often press against you detract from the enjoyment. But there's still lots to see, and if you have cash, lots of stuff to buy. Even if you don't have cash to spare, there are freebies aplenty, so it's pretty tough to come home without a bag full of loot.
But for me, it's a slog to find work: going from booth to booth, asking to see an editor and hoping that he or she will have time to look at my portfolio. The ideal situation, of course, is that they'll say, "This looks really good - here's my card, contact me after the convention's over and we'll see what we have for you." That didn't happen this time. I'll continue with submitting online from home, and keep working on making newer, better material, and hope for the best. What else am I going to do?
Well, it's not all doom and gloom. I did manage to meet with a Dark Horse editor today for a portfolio review. He gave me some good feedback on my work, and I thought his criticisms were just - the things he mentioned were mostly concerns I had in the back of my head, but there were one or two things he pointed out that were flaws I hadn't consciously realized before. Now, at least, I know what to work on. Additionally, he told me I was "really close", which is the first time I've been told that. So that's encouraging. Sort of. I guess.
Another nice thing about the convention is the creative boost I get. Cons never fail to inspire me to want to work. I'm anxious to start working on a new project for my portfolio. Not only do I want to have something new to submit to these companies (persistence is a virtue in this industry, I'm told), but just creatively, I have itches that are crying out to be scratched, and it's at a convention that I feel them most keenly. Something about seeing other people's work, seeing the enthusiasm people have for these works, and just being around other artists feeds my desire to create. By the time I leave, I'm jotting down notes and making sketches in preparation of the stories I want to write and draw. It's a nice mood to leave in, and I just hope it sticks after I get home.
On the down side, I spent most of the weekend sitting in line, waiting for an editor to look at my portfolio, which, every time but once, didn't happen. They had banks of editors out looking at portfolios, and each company was scheduled to do this for a set number of hours. 11am to 3pm, 3pm to 7pm, etc. You show up and ask to sign your name on the list. Then you sit down and wait for them to call your name. The problem, however, is that it would take them about an hour and a half to get through one page of names. By the time I got through the line to get into the convention center, I could only sign up on page four. Which meant, ultimately, that none of them could get to me before they packed up and made room for the next company to begin reviews. None of this was explained beforehand, and even if I had been there in time to get reviewed, there was so much noise that no one could hear their name being called. I get the impression that this was the first time they tried something like this, and that they're still working the bugs out. When I went back this morning to attempt a sign-up for Dark Horse, they were more organized about it, and had brought in two editors instead of just one. However, there were still a lot of miscommunications they had to clear up, and a lot of angry artists as a result. It's bad enough going into this knowing that we're going to get our work ripped into and, in all likelihood, get told to "try again next year." If we're lucky. It's made worse when we get up early, fight our way through agonizingly long lines, and arrive sweaty and anxious but thinking we're early for sign-up, only to be told by a volunteer that we've been standing in the wrong line, or only the first forty of us will be looked at, or that announcements had been made and thus we should have been aware of them when said announcement apparently took place only within said volunteer's mind, because NOBODY present can recall hearing such an announcement. Or all of the above, as was the case this morning. For a moment there, I seriously thought there would be violence.
Praise God, I was number 27. And my violent urge didn't come until this afternoon, as we were leaving.*
Speaking of sitting in line, I missed a lot of cool things, mostly panels but also other events. As a tip to those who might find themselves in a similar position, let me suggest that after they give you the schedule of planned events at the door, you spend some time reading it. Otherwise, like me, you might completely miss something like this:
7:15-8:15 Mystery Science Theater 3000 20th Anniversary Reunion - From 1998 to 1999, the long-suffering captives aboard the Satellite of Love wisecracked their way through hundreds of cinema's problem children - those delirious B-movies of yesteryear created by twisted imaginations and, possibly, the need for a tax shelter. To celebrate the show's 20th Anniversary, join a historic reunion of cast and crew, including creator Joel Hodgson, producer Jim Mallon, and fellow writer/performers Mike Nelson, Kevin Murphy, Trace Beaulieu, Frank Conniff, Mary Jo Pehl, Paul Chaplin, J. Elvis Weinstein, Bridget Nelson, and Bill Corbett for a Q&A panel hosted by self-professed "MST3K nerd" and comedian Patton Oswalt (The King of Queens). Room 6B.
But hey, I got to have an editor tell me my work isn't good enough yet. Yeah, that feels like a good trade.
On the more positive side of things, as Marilyn said, we went out with Pat and a couple of friends he met last year and had a great evening, enjoying a fantastic dinner while having really edifying conversation. It had been a while since I had had a long discussion with fellow Christians about spiritual matters. That sounds funny as I type it out, as though we were speaking airily about theological treatises and philosophical debates, but it was nothing of the sort. It was mostly about experiences we had had in trying to follow Christ, and speculation about the meanings of things in our lives, and other subjects concerning our lives. A little island of reality in the midst of an ocean of fantasy and escapism. Honestly, it was exactly what I'd been needing, and I don't think I realized quite how badly I needed it until we'd parted for the evening.
*So Marilyn and I are walking out of the convention. I'm annoyed because I wanted to get pictures of people in steampunk costumes (there were quite a few that day) but suddenly couldn't find any; I'm also sweaty and sore all over and feeling as though I didn't have enough time to do all the things I wanted but at the same time feeling too fatigued to do anything more and having trouble remembering what I wanted to do and feeling responsible for Marilyn before she gets fatigued as I drag her around the convention floor and annoyed at being battered and jostled by crowds all day and bitter about the fact that I'm trying to get into one of the few industries where one has to pay, many times, to get a chance at a work interview...
And then the guy walking right in front of me takes a couple of long drags on his cigarette and blows the smoke over his shoulder, right into my face. Repeatedly. I mockingly hefted my portfolio toward his head as if to bludgeon him with it from behind, but the "mockingly" part was pretty tenuous. I knew that if he did it ONE MORE TIME, I would complain to him about it...but I also knew that if this happened, I was annoyed and frustrated enough that there would have been a great deal of profanity and insults along with the complaint. So I suppose it's for the best that, ultimately, he went his separate way before I felt enough reason to open my mouth.
