Broken Frontier

My mom sends me the strangest gifts.  I get random things in the mail from her every couple of weeks, and today’s is … well, strangest yet.  She sent me this ornate cookie jar filled with chocolate chip cookies.  Which is sweet.  Except I’m diabetic and can’t eat them.  It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just, well, really bad for me.  So I call her, and have the “gee thanks, but what were you thinking?” conversation, and she says “Well, I just thought you’d like them.”  Which, if I wasn’t diabetic, I would. 

Then I started thinking about my business and about the comic’s industry.  Then it came to me.  The comic industry is diabetic.  Let me explain.  Comics’ fans and publishers define themselves by exclusion.  How many guys do you know who say “I only read super-hero books,” “I only read manga,” or “I only read independent comics”?  We define ourselves by excluding the things we don’t like.  Sure, there are exceptions.  Everyone has a soft spot, be it the super-hero fan who reads Stray Bullets, the Manga guy who reads Green Lantern, or the Indie guy who loves Lone Wolf and Cub.  But, that’s in small chunks, compared to the rest of their ‘diet.’  The same goes for publishers.  Each publisher has its niche, and rarely do they get out of it.  Oni does its thing, Marvel does its own.  And that’s fine. That’s an answer to knowing their audience.  But, you apply this to other mediums.  Films, Music, Television - people seem to have broader tastes, and are a bit more willing to give something ‘different’ a try.  But not comics.  Our blood-sugars are too delicate to risk reading something outside of our basic diet. 

Dieting was prevalent at last weekend’s Alternative Press Expo.  This is a show that we’ve done before, and always do really well at.  When we just had our mini-comics and buttons, we literally couldn’t sell them fast enough.  With our, comparatively speaking, mediocre mini-comics being a big hit, it seemed pretty obvious to us that this year, with our critically heralded full-size comics in tow, that we’d be a big hit.  The truth, however, couldn’t be further from that.  We stood there all weekend, selling Elk’s Run (one of the most critically acclaimed books in recent memory) for a measly $1 (much cheaper, even, than most people are selling their mini-comics) and we couldn’t move anything.  We got to a point where we were giving books away (see my previous column on marketing expenses for this logic) and HAVING TROUBLE.  I was doing a sales pitch to people to get them to TAKE BOOKS FOR FREE. 

What did they say when they flipped through the books at the table?  “This looks too professional.” “I don’t like real comics.” “Color? Ugh.” One person even remarked “Your banners are too nice.  Nobody else has banners that nice” as a negative!

At a comics show.  They don’t like ‘real comics’ and complained about the book being in color and looking ‘too professional.’  I’ll admit it.  I was at a loss.  All of the bigger indie publishers on the main floor were doing great business.  But, in our little corner of the show, I might as well’ve brought a TV and beer to entertain myself.  I looked around at the other booths around us.  It was other publishers, about the same size as my company, and they all looked miserable too.  There were just no customers, and those who were there passed by like scared suburbanites on their first day in the big city.

You see, these bigger independent companies have taken YEARS to endear themselves to this market.  They’ve earned their credibility through years of struggle.  All of the guys around us, we’re newbies to the ‘big time’ of comics, and there was an almost resentment from the indie-cool crowd.  We were sending cookies to the diabetic.  Even though they were sugar-free cookies, they have been conditioned to say “No.”  

So flashback to David Hedgecock’s write up of Wizard World LA here on Broken Frontier a few weeks back.  He made a similar point, but on the other end.  At a mainstream show, his company (and mine) were ‘too indie.’    It’s the same thing.  People see you as something, so it must be true.  It has nothing to do with the comics, the content, or your display.  All you can do is plug along.  Get fans who are vocal about your product, enough so to be the ones telling people to check them out, instead of you. 

You see, when I go out to dinner, and the waitstaff offers dessert, I say “No,” and then whoever I’m with says “C’mon, give it a try.  Just a taste.”  They talk me into it.  Something I shouldn’t eat, but, they make it enticing, and I end up caving in and having a mouthful, and then sometimes, even a bit more.  Having someone I trust say “Give it a try” will almost always push me over the edge, especially compared to the waiter or waitress pushing it, because they have a stake in it.  Your friend doesn’t. 

So the moral of the story?  You have to build an audience, gradually bringing yourself into their spotlight, you have to be willing to adapt, put the product that they’ll most identify with up front, and let the other stuff, no matter how good it is, take a backseat, until they realize that it’s just as good, if not better.  Know. Your. Audience.

Oh, and mom, please, no more cookies.