How Indie Comics Work- A Guide For The Unenlightened

Well this post is ALL Brian M.’s fault. I was trying to respond to his comments in the Viva Pinata post and it got so damn long that I decided it merited its own post.

Brian said: “Sure the art takes longer, but isn’t there a big page rate differential that addresses that even with creator owned books?”

I had a good long laugh over that.

In my case the answer is: Yes. But I am a fluke and babies are being eaten around the world to make it happen.

I had “cut” my log-ass reply with the intention of “pasting” is right here. But then I cut-n-paste Brian’s statement/question and lost it. So I’ll start over. Nice going Brian!

The only comic book publishers that pay well, as far as I know, are DC, Marvel, and Dark Horse. Some day I would very much like to work for Dark Horse, (so if you know anyone . . .) (And doing a SpiderMan mini-series would be okay as well . . .)

Anyway . . .

Some smaller publishers –who are big by Indie Comics standards- like Oni, IDW (I *think*), and maybe one or two others do pay something, but not enough to live on. Unless you live in your mom’s basement. Which is its own separate problem. As I understand it over at TokyoPop you get a small chunk of money up front based on some percentage of calculated sales –don’t quote me on that though.

But down here at the shallow end of the pool, Image, Red5, Marcosia, Boom (again –I *think*), Viper, and the rest pay you nothing. They simply cannot afford to pay their creative teams and stay in business.

Publishing comics is a HUGE risk for any company, in large part due to the monolithic (and monopolistic), all-powerful single distribution company. I won’t name names, but anyone who reads comics knows who distributes them. Now, unlike a regular book market, if a book doesn’t sell a retailer can’t return it to the distributor for credit. They have to eat the lose. And since most comic book stores are small Mom & Pop operations they can’t absorb big loses each month.

As a result they have to very carefully pick and choose what books to carry and the Indie guy always gets the shaft in that situation. “Hmm, do I order SpiderMan, which sells more that sixty-thousand issues a month? Or Meathead Studio’s new Dracula-vs-The Pope-vs-Dracula small-press book?” You guess who wins that competition. (and PS: if I see one more stupid Dracula-vs-Anybody book I’m going to gouge my remaining testicle with a spork!)

So the small press biz has some very tough choices to make. Publish one book and pay the creative team, or pay no one, get a half dozen books out there in the hopes that enough will get through the wall of Marvel/DC/DH/and Diamond, (crap I said their name! Rumplstilzkin-Rumplstilzkin-Rumplstilzkin!), and bring in enough pennies to make all their effort worthwhile. At the end of the day, once the costs of doing business are covered, and depending on your publisher, the creators get any money (or a percentage) of what’s left over. Those mystical profit things.

What’s really amazing is when you consider all this –when you consider just how amazingly hard it is to survive in this business- its mind boggling how much utter crap is published by totally awful artists and writers. I mean really! Frank Miller? Who is this hack? Sin City what? 300 guys in loin cloths? C’mon! ;P Well you know what I mean . . .

Harder still than the choices made by the Indie publishers are those made by the creators. Do they love what they do enough to work a crap job and toil away all night to make their comic book? Do they love it that much? Does your doctor love medicine enough to treat you for free? Fuck no. But comic book artists are WAY cooler than eggheads in white coats. We’re also much stupider so . . .

. . .often the answer is yes. We love it that much. Sometimes we wish the answer were “no”, but God bless everyone for putting in the effort, right?

In my case I am the luckiest testicle-gouging sunuvabitch I know. Not only did I manage to hook up with two really great writers (and fabulous human beings in their own . . .special . . .ways), BUT they felt so passionate about their projects, and about me as well I guess, that they are paying my page rate out of pocket. On their own. Which allows me to actually do this for a “living”. I seriously get a little teary-eyed every time I think about it. I don’t think my mom even loves me that much.

Granted, while I may be breaking their personal banks, I’m still living on less than a kid working at Wal-Mart. But I’ve never been so happy in my life. And who knows, maybe I’ll go somewhere in this industry and do okay some day. When I was in high school and still wanted to draw comics (before deciding they sucked and taking a decade off), I wanted to be HUGE, like Joe Mad (who was and is my age). That kid was making big bucks right out of high school. These days, I will be content just to pay the bills and keep doing what I’m doing.

Now I hope you guys don’t think I’m shitting on the Industry. Though maybe I am a little. Not any of the folks I work for or with mind you –just the state of things. Sort of how I love the idea of America, but I would like nothing better than to leave a flaming bag of shit on George W.’s front porch, ring the bell, and watch him stamp it out from my hiding place in the bushes.

Despite all the short-comings of the comic book industry I love it. I could never really articulate how much joy I get out of telling a story with stupid little pictures, creating what might otherwise be a massive multi-million dollar movie that could never get made, with a pen and paper.

When we’re young, most of us want to do something monumental in the world; make a difference, save lives, take over small island nations and rule them with an iron fist. That sort of thing. That shit goes away real quick when we grow up as most of us never have enough time or money to get to all those amazing places that would put us in position for those great things.

But when I look at what I’m doing in my life right now I realize that in some small and totally silly way I am touching someone else’s life. Not in any spectacular way, but that’s fine. In a hundred years no one is going to remember us anyway –even that fuck in the White House. Oh sure names and stuff get remembered maybe. But the people and what they were are all forgotten –we’ll all be like those folks at the beach in those early 20th Century silent news reels; interesting little objects scuttling around in funny outfits. But not really people in any meaningful way.

So get me some more romin noodle, ‘cause I love my job, and I’ll love it for as long as I’m able.