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Peter Kuper, everybody.

Sunday for most artists I know is a mad race to finish the commissions that were accepted the first day of the show. I'm working away on these while people come by the table offering "Sorry you lost, Loser!" I'm starting to catch up when I realize, I have a final obligation, a panel to appear on. This is part of the Cold Cut series on small publishers, and the topic today is How To Get Noticed, or Promoting Your Book or one of those titles. Looking in the program book, I see that it's a room upstairs, again, all the way on the other side of the convention center. I head up to the upper level, and then burst into a wild sprint. I'm still a little late, but not as late as Shannon Wheeler who didn't show up at all. Tim Stroup of Coldcut Distribution is moderating, and the panelists are me, retailer/sometimes publisher Robert Scott of Comikaze in San Diego, and Paige Braddock who makes Jane's World. We essentially tell the crowd exactly what you have to do to get rich and famous, but they don't listen. I must have talked too long because Tim kept turning my mic off, and Robert kept terrorizing the people with "I'm a retailer and I hate you!! RARRR!!! RARR!!!" or something of that nature. Paige is the only level-headed one there, so I hope they note what she is saying.

We speculate on what Shannon would have said had he showed up. Perhaps he'd recount his famous stunt of firing a bullet through a stack of comics and sending bullet-hole copies out to shops. Afterwards some up-and-comers in the crowd give us all copies of their books. We'll take months to get around to reading them, and forget where we got them. I apologize in advance. It's a good indicator of what small indy creators are up against, though. If I, as some schmoe who can't even do your career any good, have to work through a giant stack of free books in this "spare time" I keep hearing about, just imagine the slush pile editors and publishers at big companies have to deal with. So don't tap your foot in anger that no one has read that copy yet. Zander Freakin' Cannon still hasn't read Interman yet and he's had it for a year in JAPAN, where there's nothing else in English that he can read. And he's a "friend". So, for added advice on getting your work noticed, I'll suggest something I told a buddy to do a few years ago that worked-- affix candy to your book or sample. Not some crap rock candy or Jolly Rancher piece of glass either, put nothing less than chocolate on that comic. They'll pick it up if there's chocolate involved.

Fred the Clown's Roger Langridge (L) Tom Mandrake and Ron Randall (R)

Super-Artist Matt Clark, Eisner Judge Meloney Crawford, and... CrossGen Editor Barb Kesel

Max Collins visits the table to tell me he's talked to some people about a new project, and we agree it'd be really cool if we could work together again. Comicon is full of great maybes like this, but there's no knowing what will actually pan out. If my fingers were any more crossed, I'd be arthritic.The fellow who commissioned the Rorshach drawing is hear to pick it up. I realize in horror that it's still tucked in the sketchbook where I concealed it before Dave Gibbons could see it. Unfortunately, I handed that sketchbook to its owner an hour ago. Looks like I'm going to have to draw another one. Doctor Manahttan would have seen this coming.
Two fellows hand an anthology to me, saying they'd love to have me in it. I'm pleased, then notice the terms that come with it. It's pay to play. Creators pay to have their work included. What a unique opportunity! I'm going to start saving up right now.

Nat's come by. He sold out of all of his Idjit's Guides. Way to go Nat! And Jim Ottaviani has sold every last book he brought. Not surprising at all. His latest graphic novel, Suspended in Language is also his best. He's going home empty handed, but with a fat bank. When you think of Jim,picture this.

Jim before Comicon

Jim after Comicon

Hey I finished perhaps the latest commission ever, for me. Peter Koch paid me TWO YEARS AGO for a Catwoman piece, and then left the show without seeing me again. Once home, I quickly lost his info that I wrote down. Last year at show's end I saw him walking through the masses and ran for him, asking if I could get that info again. I went home and lost it again. This year I see him and wave him over and we try to make it foolproof. We exchange cellphone numbers and I ask him to hang around Sunday so I can get it done at the show. Somehow it actually went to plan. I draw a nice big Catwoman piece, call his cellphone, and he appears genie-like within seconds. I feel now I can move on with my life, enjoying a special sort of closure few receive. All thanks to Catwoman. The show ends as usual with that mean lady on the intercom treating everyone who paid plenty of money like a bunch of five year olds. All around the room blood pressures rise when she speaks. Even Adam Hughes' extremely nice girlfriend Allison musters up a swear for her. It's over though, and now we can eat.

It's not so hard to get seated in a restaurant on a Sunday, people are rushing to I-5 to go sit in that sweet traffic. But we literally and metaphorically hit Rock Bottom. So Jim, Lieber and I meet up with Ford and those bigshots from Artxilla, LeSean Thomas and Sanford Greene. Both fellows have done serious time in the South, so we talk about that. I learn that LeSean had been living in Greensboro, NC up until recently, and that now he's in Philadelphia. Sanford's down in Columbia, SC, I think. He has a two-year old son, and tells some funny stories, which is a nice contrast to our cheerless waitress. LeSean goes on about a Norman Rockwell museum near his new home. Guess I better get back up to Philly next year.

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