Broken Frontier

In my “Business of the Entertainment Industry” class in college, there was really only one valuable thing I learned.  After listening to a roomful of students “pitch” their lame ideas to our teacher, who was playing “Hollywood Exec” and would shoot them all down for being too similar to an existing property,  too convoluted,  too pointless, etc., it came to be my turn.  I pitched my first idea, and she shot holes through it.  Before she could say “Thank You, Next.”, I interrupted her and said “Well, I have another one that you might like.” And I pitched her a second idea.  Again, she said “No.” and I went into a third pitch, at which point she interrupted me. “That’s how you pitch to Hollywood.  Keep pitching till they throw you out the door.”

Now, skip ahead a bit.  I have a script, an artist, and a preview book together for what I’m to believe was my debut project.  I showed up at Wizard World LA with a stack of books in my bag, and I went from table to table, literally talking to every single editor, pro, and publisher, hell, anyone who’d listen about my project hat was looking for a home.  Everyone was very gracious, more impressed with the packaging of our pitch than the actual project. 

But still, I had promises of notes from several editors, and I’d gotten to meet lots of people I was a big fan of and offer them some of my work to see.  A few weeks went by, and I received a lot of notes back from these people, universally agreeing I had talent, potential, and a strong concept, but encouraged me to seek out another artist, as the current one didn’t capture the feel I was going for. 

I spent the next few months trying to get someone to commit to the book AGAIN.  After losing the artist I’d chosen, I set about trying to get someone to come on board.  It was at WonderCon, while talking to Larry Young, that I “got it.”  Larry looked through the book I’d given him, and replied to me with the following insight (and I’m sure Larry doesn’t mind me paraphrasing him, as he’s known for saying the same thing to anyone who asks him about publishing comics):

“Do it yourself.  Use the skills and contacts you have. Don’t waste your time trying to make somebody else happy with a project, just make yourself happy. I saw you talking to a few pros around here, talk to them, get them to help you out.”

And that’s what I did.

Western Tales of Terror was born out of this comment.  I had contacts with several pros, and found them all too willing to help out with 3 to 5 pages of writing or art.  That seemed to be the golden number for what was acceptable for “free” work.  We promised them all ad space in the book, and we set about putting it together.

Alright, back to the “keep pitching.”  I wanted to do the other book.  More than anything on earth, I wanted to publish my comic.  But, you know what? It wasn’t the right time for it.  So, I had a story for a Zombie Western in my head that I’d never been able to find a home for.   Because I was flexible, and willing to just run with whatever I felt had the best chance to succeed, we were able to get some INCREDBLE talent lined up for the debut issue, and manage to sell a massive number of books (for an independent anthology anyhow).

Now, as I gear up to start once again pitching comics (including a completely new version of that first comic, which coincidentally turned out 10,000 times better than I ever thought it would), I make sure that I’m not going out with just one project, but with 3 or 4, and that I’m not going to take “No” for an answer.

Next week: getting the book done, distributed, and marketed, or, as I like to call it,  “Oh, The Fun We Will Have.”  Until then, keep your nose to the grindstone and your ideas flowing fast and furious.