Making It In Comics

I am very common.​

That is to say, in the world of comics I'm coming to realize that my situation is the norm. Most comic artists — and particularly the sort of indie comic artist I aspire to be — don't make much money from their comics. Even the ones I'd call successful all have sidelines, they all do something else to supplement their income. And even then, they don't usually earn a great living.

​Today I Googled "making a living as a cartoonist." Most of what I read was deeply, deeply disheartening.

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I'll be honest: the idea of being a syndicated cartoonist has been a fantasy of mine for a while now. Recently I've even begun putting together some submission work to send to the syndicates. I know people who know syndicated cartoonists, and they seem to do alright. And the idea of working on comics as a sole means of support — with a regular, steady, and most important, stable gig — is immensely appealing to the risk averse systems administrator that rules my brain most of the time.

But I've been reading a lot about the syndicated life, and the more I read the more I start thinking it's a dream whose time has passed. Don't get me wrong, I'm still going to try, partly because I'm just having so much fun making strips and generating material. And if I get offered a syndicated gig, ​I'll take it. But not only is that extremely unlikely, but even if it were to happen, it's not a sure thing I'll be able to survive on the income. In fact, it's almost guaranteed I won't.

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Most everything I've read and seen is proclaiming the death of printed media, the syndicates and the whole economic model that's sustained cartoonists for the past hundred years. Right now there's no real infrastructure to replace it. The days of the comic strip super stars — the Bill Wattersons and the Berkeley Breatheds — are gone. And what, if anything, will replace them is still very much the question.

I have learned some things in my research, however. Things that give me hope and direction.​

For one, there's the Internet. The World Wide Web. The Web is the great destroyer of the syndicated cartoonist, but it's also the contemporary cartoonists great hope. Whatever replaces the syndication model will certainly involve the web. Using the web for distribution has certain advantages generally, and for someone like me in particular. Generally speaking, when you use the web to self-promote and distribute, you reap all the benefits of your efforts, you keep all the spoils. And for a cartoonist like me, whose particular style and brand of humor are not necessarily all that broad, you stand a better chance of reaching and profiting from a niche market that gets your particular thing. The syndication model relies on reaching tons of people through a network of sources, primarily newspapers, so syndicated strips tend to be very broad things that appeal to a wide swath of the population. But if you use the web you don't have to appeal to such a broad market, because you have a better chance of targeting the smaller market of folks ​that will understand your particular take on things. And since the profits go directly back to the artist, you can, in some instance, make a living and a name for yourself.

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The downsides are plentiful, however. For one, using the Web as your platform and self-distributing means that you do all the work: you do all your own promotion, all your own website building, all your own manufacturing. You'll be doing a lot of work that has nothing to do with drawing or producing comics. Also, your income will not necessarily be steady or reliable and will likely come from multiple sources. Ironically, the bulk of your income will probably not be from the comics themselves at all, but rather from sales of merchandise that is supported by the comics. The model of success, currently, seems to be giving away the product — the comic — for free, and making money selling things like mugs, t-shirts and advertising.

The Internet has been extremely disruptive to a number of creative fields. The music industry is seeing a similar shakeup, and there a many musical acts coming up today who use this very same model to make money and promote themselves. They effectively give their music away for free in order to lure fans into buying t-shirts and pins. People really like t-shirts! ​

(It's deeply ironic that, nearly twenty-five years ago, Bill Watterson himself railed against the efforts of the syndicates to license the work of cartoonists for the creation of plush toys and other such merchandise, and yet this is now how many contemporary cartoonists survive.​)

​In any case, self-publishing is probably the way to go for me, and probably the way to go for a lot of cartoonists right now and for the foreseeable future. I imagine some day that the syndicates will figure out a way to survive in this new ecosystem, but it remains to be seen whether or not this will be of any advantage to the cartoonist.

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​That said, I will still be submitting a couple ideas to the syndicates. Why? Well, I've already put in a lot of the work, so why not? If I got a syndication deal I'd totally take it. It probably wouldn't be a lot of money, but it'd be something. And it would be validation. You never know what could happen, and I think it would be fun to have a syndicated strip. It would get my name out there as well, and could lead to all sorts of opportunities. I am not hopeful that I will get such a deal, though, nor do I hold onto the dream that I could support myself with the income from said deal. For better or for worse, those days are over. 

So, will I ever be able to have a steady, reliable income as a cartoonist? Probably not. I'll probably always have to something other than cartooning to stay afloat, just like everyone else. Turns out, I'm already doing something other than cartooning: computer systems. It pays the bills and it's not so bad.

Everything else is just gravy.​

Notes On Comic Humor: 1

I've been hard at work on some strip ideas that ultimately I plan to use to expand Malcontent. The hope is to produce something fuller than what I've made so far, to create a character-rich, fully realized universe. Perhaps to make something I could even submit to the syndicates.

So when I say I've been hard at work, I mean it. I've been drawing like mad, and thinking constantly about this strip. But not both at the same time necessarily. I've made character sketches; and I've made character notes. And I've obsessed over possible scenarios to put these characters in, but it's been hard and I've been disappointed with my ideas so far. Creating characters is one thing. Writing stories is altogether different.

Tonight I sat down and really tried for the first time to write some stories to introduce my characters. It was slow going at first. I drew out some ideas I'd written down, but they came out lousy. At some point I decided to look at some of my favorite recent strips I'd made, strips I felt worked on some level.

I'm particularly fond of Bad Design, and looking at it I realized that what made it work so well was the physicality of the drawing. Writing-wise it's just your typical Malcontent strip, but the comical drawing adds another level. The drawing makes it funny. And that's when it hit me, and I learned something vital — obvious, for sure, but vital nonetheless: funny drawings make comics funny. Or at least funnier.

After having this epiphany the strips just started flowing. I sketched another very physical idea I had about dog hair on the toothbrush. Then, starting from a purely visual standpoint — that is, starting with just a funny drawing idea — I made one about the dog, and the punch line just fell into place. Usually I write my comics first and work from there, but it turns out it's often a lot easier to build from a funny visual than to start with the writing.

After doing this a while I started getting ideas for storylines for the characters. I got four  strips about a cranky bear who wants to be human, and I even got an origin strip for a zombie character. They all have decent structure and solid punchlines. But the humor originates with the drawings. For the first time ever I'm seeing the importance of integrating the writing and the visuals, after all these years. And for the first time, I'm able to execute this concept. I'm finally starting to get it.

And it feels amazing!

Forty-Two

Well, today heralds another birthday. My forty-second, if you must know. For the record, forty-two's not so bad. By now you're solidly into your forties and pretty adjusted to the idea of it. You've grown accustomed to all the new aches and pains and to the increasing acceptance of your own mortality. Forty-two also has some literary significance. It's the Ultimate Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, The Universe, and Everything, according to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It's also the number of years overdue that book is in that Shel Silverstein poem.

Forty-two is scientifically significant as well. It's the product of the first three terms of Sylvester's sequence and is a primary psuedoperfect number. (No, I do not know what any of that means.) It's also the atomic number of molybdenum. (Yes, I do know how to pronounce that.)

So, like I said, not so bad.

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On the crueler side, this birthday lands precariously close to Daylight Savings Time. It's vaguely depressing to wake up and realize you're forty-two years older and then realize you've also lost an additional hour.

I also share this day of birth with the frontrunner for the Republican presidential nomination, one Mr. Mitt Romney. Of course he shares his birthday with both Jack Kerouac and the soft-spoken singer-songwriter James Taylor, so really, how bad can he be?

Anyway, it's going to be a good day. I have a haircut appointment and a date for steak dinner with my fabulous sweetheart. I have the day off and a stack of presents to unwrap. I have a great life, a beautiful apartment and a terrific collie.

I think I'll stop now, before I jinx it.