Broken Frontier

One of the most useful online resources for comics pros at cons is Tom Spurgeon's "Welcome To Nerd Vegas." This lengthy, Fodor's-style guide is aimed squarely at the San Diego Comic-Con, but read it whether you're going or not, because if you can survive that, you can survive anything. Two years ago, I very nearly did not survive it. (The worst flu I've ever had. I entertained thoughts of a last will and testament. I am serious.)

First-time (or second-time) exhibitors who want to avoid my mistakes at San Diego or any other convention, take note:

Prepare for scorn. I remember being actively scorned at Heroes' Con for bringing a computer to my dealer's table to display my website. That was in 2000. I hadn't seen so many people look at me with distaste, disgust or outright loathing since the mountain biking accident that briefly turned my face into a Dick Tracy villain's. Then as before, it wasn't who I was: most didn't know me. It was what I represented: a world that was, and is, slowly swallowing their polybags of four-color nostalgia. I was an invader.

You probably won't encounter a group quite as natively hostile as that, but you will get four types of looks from passers-by: actively interested, just-browsing-thanks, I-can-see-right-through-your-head and, occasionally, I'd-just-as-soon-you-weren't-here. You'll never know why they feel that way. It doesn't matter. You're there for the first two groups. Everyone else? See right through their heads.

If you're getting a table, make sure you have something to sell. Don't get a table just to get one, or as an investment for the minicomics you might have by opening day. I've spent too many cons scrambling off to Kinko's at the last second to produce some five-minutes-till-deadline ashcan which succeeded in making an impression about me and my work-- a bad one. Don't be dumb like me.

Prep your presentations. The nerd who is a natural off-the-cuff speaker is a rare thing. Isaac Asimov was one. I'm not. You probably aren't. Your introductory sales pitch can be just lightly rehearsed, because you'll get to chant it about 4,000 times at a typical convention. But you should have your lines down for the second stage, when someone takes an interest. You should be prepared to answer questions on panels without rambling on and on. And if you're going to do some kind of multimedia presentation you should always, always prepare it with the same kind of showmanship you put into your comic itself.

Make your plans to meet people before the show. Be prepared to make new plans. If some of the attendees are your friends, but you're not in a tightly knit social circle, then you may find your ships blown apart by the prevailing winds. That really is what it feels like, navigating through a storm at sea. You should have a "Plan A" around meeting the people that you really want to see, and that meeting should take place on a Friday. But you should be prepared for plans to change, because the sensory overload of a convention can make people forget them.

Stay healthy. Eat. Watch your junk food intake. Sleep when you're tired and listen to your body if it starts threatening to go on strike. Need I add that I did not do this during my adventures in California, 2005? Let my hypothetical corpse be a warning to you all.