Friday Wednesday/Lieber This year I wanted decent signage at my table. I stayed up all night putting together nifty little a-frame signs that bragged up various awards and nominations so I wouldn't have to. At six AM, my wife pointed out to me that all my books had been nominated for the Einser Award. "Einser." Shit. I never realized how many cartoonists plague my hometown until I arrived at the Alaska Airlines gate for my trip to San Diego and recognized every single man, woman, and child on our sold out flight. The local convention doesn't have as many guests as the gate area did. Charge five bucks to get into the gate area, and you've got a pretty good show. Not as good as the San Diego airport, though. Overheard by the baggage carousel: "This place is lousy with funnybookers." "I thought Terry Dodson was a guy." "It's like From Dusk Til Dawn, but with robots." "Oh man did HE put on weight." "I think it's going to be a limited series, but that's up to Richardson." "It's sort of a goth story." I'm rooming with Jim Ottaviani, and we have hotel trouble. We thought he had reserved a room at the Bristol, where we'd stayed last year. The Bristol doesn't recognize our confirmation number. Turns out that the convention travel service decided that what we really wanted was the Best Western Seven Seas, located about fifteen miles from the convention center. Long cab ride out to Hotel Circle, then an hour in line behind a huge crew of sailors and a smaller group of Navy Pilots. Their reservations are apparently as screwed up as ours were, but there are a least fifty of them, and it takes some time to settle. They're energetic, tan and healthy and remind me of what pale, flabby spuds we cartoonists tend to be. Oddly, the officer in charge looks exactly like Chris Ware. Finally, we make it to the con itself. The reorganization seems to help, but there's still a lot of confusion about what door we're allowed to enter. This is a constant problem. I'm not sure why the con doesn't spring for some big vinyl signs that specify who can and who can't enter each door. It wouldn't cost more than a couple hundred bucks and it would save everyone a lot of trouble. -- Preview night. I'm not the first person set up in Artists Alley, so no embarrassing, immortal photo this year. My dance card for commissioned sketches fills quickly. My booth is in the back of the Alley, Parker on one side, Leonard Kirk on the other. Across from us are Marty Nodell, all three Hernandez Brothers and Lew Schwartz, a prolific ghost-artist on Bob Kane's Batman stories. Schwartz was recently interviewed by Eddie Campbell in the first issue of Campbell's new magazine EGOMANIA, and we see Eddie's back quite often throughout the show, as he stops by to say hi to Lew. Parker has fashioned me a spiffy banner which proclaims my own publishing name, and frames me at my table like a carnival attraction. Step right up for the ring toss, folks, win a deformed Pepsi bottle full of purple liquid.

Wednesday/Parker I arrive ten minutes too late to pick up my exhibitor badge. Life without a badge isn't worth living. Fortunately, Lieber has a cellphone, and he and Lone Star Press publisher Bill Williams send out their badges so I and loyal girlfriend Jill can get in and set up the table. So for a few minutes they have to hold comics and pages in such a way to hide their badgeless chests while we infiltrate as Steve's wife Sara and Bill. Even though my space is reserved, you have to stake it out or squatters will try to snag your spot. In a time where most shows charge hundreds for an eight foot table, the artist alley space at Comicon is one of the most coveted seats in the industry. People are on the waiting list to be placed here, and if a regular attendee misses a show, bam, that artist is knocked back to square one waiting for table space. Despite this being the biggest show in the industry with lots of publicity about the details, every year more clueless artists still show up thinking they can get table space without registering or even talking to anyone. And then they'll even be total screwups and get rude with Clydene Nee, who rules that domain with an iron hand. She's the one person at the show you don't want to cross- I've seen even old pros act like jerks and get banned from the Alley for perpetuity.

Thursday/Lieber Chris Baldwin, cartoonist of the astoundingly popular web strip Bruno, stops by the table to say hello. This is his first San Diego and he's sharing a booth half a mile across the room. He takes the size of the room and the surging crowds in stride. "I'm curious about the panel for spouses of comic book artists. Maybe get some advice on how my girlfriend can better cope." It was Kip Manley and Jenn Manley-Lee who helped convince him to attend. Kip crosses the floor like Eustace Tilley in a well-tailored summer suit. He looks like the publishers are supposed to, and strangers approach with pitches and samples. He accepts them all, promising jobs and fame. Jenn's purposes are less lofty. She's promoting her web strip dicebox. I'm introducing Jenn to Paul Chadwick, and Paul asks what her strip's about. She hates that question and never knows how to answer. We press her for the high concept. She hates that kind of reductionist thinking and hesitates to supply one, but we push her and finally she blurts it out: "female factory workers in space!" "Good. Now say that another five thousand times this weekend." Ed Brubaker stops by to ask what the hell happened. I tell him and he looks at me like I'm nuts. You might be on to something there, Ed. The new Comics Journal is out, and something of mine is reviewed in it. I know this because Matt Silvie emailed me several weeks ago to tell me they were running the review and that I really ought to take out a big ad in the issue. Matt's widely regarded as dishonest and creepy, so I asked to see a copy of the review in advance. His reply said that the Journal has a strict policy of never allowing advance looks at reviews. Funny, because when they reviewed WHITEOUT they faxed a copy with the ad solicitation without even being asked. Thanks Matt. Maybe next time.

Thursday/Parker Jill was able to hang out for the whole day which was great. People who would normally walk up and call me a cur and slap me with a gauntlet felt they had to be civil. Eager to help me look popular and well-liked, Dan Brereton dedicated to us my favorite print of his, a little kid (based on his son) sitting on the potty reading comics. Tom Fowler showed me some terrific Grendel art and some other painted works. He really does have the goods. Grouses too much though-- if he learns to keep his piehole shut, he's going to be one of the most sought-after guys in the industry before long. With our spiffy little banners mounted to the table, people start using Lieber and me as a landmark to rendezvous. So we end up seeing a lot of people going to lunch. I put out a little artist's fold-up drawing stool in front of my table, and I'd like to take this opportunity to suggest that everyone go get one. It gives tired friends a chance to rest as they pound the hard convention floor. It saves your pained neck from looking up at them as you catch up. Colorist Trish Mulvihill said "I feel like I'm on a job interview", but gave it a high thumbs up. Again I started doing bookmark sketches to promote The Interman- it seems people really like drawings that cost them nothing. And in trade, they sign my email list so I can let them know when much of the continuity will be put online. Which will be mid-September by the way. I also told folks I was doing a Catwoman cover that I was really happy with, and about the third time I mentioned it, new series artist Cameron Stewart appeared as if magically summoned. He took a seat in the little chair and showed me copies of upcoming art for the book, which is going to make a lot of people happy. I had forgotten that he'd worked at Sony Animation at the same time I did, until I remembered an afternoon when we were all teasing another animator who had lots of nutty theories about movies. Generally, we just raved about the good design of the book and how it's one of the coolest mainstream comics out there. Which is really a turnaround from what it used to be. Oop- need to shut my piehole. Later my old softball teammate Tommy Lee Edwards pops by and makes me miss North Carolina. He talks about how much fun his son Henry is having playing out in the country where he just moved, how much happier he and the family are not living in LA anymore (which incidentally, is where I live). Tommy did some art study with the legendary Drew Struzan, and it's really coming through in his Harry Potter and Star Wars work. On an escape from the table, I see Mark Schultz, and here's a good paradigm for what a jerk I can be. Mark tells me what a good job I did on The Interman Preview that he got in the mail, and I almost immediately start haranguing him about getting back to new Xenozoic Tales. He swears he's going to, but thinks it will be an uphill battle. Mark believes his Xeno readership has scattered to the four winds and he'll be starting from scratch again with building an audience. I believe that the comics industry will snap-to once they hear he's back to full cartooning again. We parried around on this like Ray Harryhausen monsters for a while, amusing a collector named Tim who had just commissioned a piece from me earlier. Tim related how he saw younger readers who only knew Mark from his writing on Superman books nearly lose their jaws when they saw his illos for the upcoming Conan book. Schultz adventure will return, by gum...

Friday/Lieber Gibert Hernandez is wandering the area with a video camera, shaking his head, recording the crowd. I give him a quizzical look, and he says, "If I didn't have proof, no one would believe me." This evening is the Eisners. The time before the ceremony is spent with poring over nifty books of illustration with Parker, Marc, Adan Salazar and Jeff Rose. Scott McDaniel spots us and visits the table. We talk art and craft and life in Pittsburgh- Great Guy. Madison Clell is walking around with Diana Schutz. Diana points towards a writer and whispers something in Madison's ear. Madison bursts into laughter. When the doors finally open Jim Ottaviani and Janine Johnston arrive, and they've got provisions. While others fight for first crack at the cocktail weenies, we're stuffing our faces full of bread and wine and cheese and peppery little sandwiches. Who cares if we lose. We got eats. And of course we do lose, but what the hell. Sara Ryan's and my ME AND EDITH HEAD loses Best Short Story to Evan Dorkin's Eltingville piece from Dork. Can't feel bad about that-- it was a hilarious story. At least I'll get to hear a Dorkin acceptance speech, right? Wrong. Evan's not here. Dan Vado is though, and he knows exactly what it means to be given the opportunity to address the entire industry. The moment is solemn. He pauses, and gathers his thoughts, then leans into the microphone and says "Mgyeh. Thangsalotvervotinferm" No, thank you, Dan. The table betting pool is running close, when the last category comes up, Jim and I are neck and neck with 14 correct answers each. Jim pulls out an amazing upset victory in the end, going four for four on the Hall of Fame inductees. Incredible. Afterwards, I'm possessed with a need to socialize outside my usual circles. I buy a cheap drink for Nick Bertozzi. He buys an expensive one for me. I need to do more of this sort of thing.

Friday/Parker Early on, Amanda Fisher and Jeff McElroy from The Splash Page in Missoula, Montana stop by and collect the poster I promised them. No slight to Jeff, but I have to talk about Amanda for a moment because she generally boggles the mind of everyone who meets her. Sure, it's way old to joke about how some retailers look and sound exactly like the Android's Dungeon Comics Guy from the Simpsons, so nothing prepares you to meet one who looks like Natalie Portman, supports independent comics, and was a physics major in college. What's in that Montana water? I try to ask her advice about getting noticed in the catalogues, and she admits that she's so atypical that she has no usable points. "I try to look really carefully through the order books... I don't want to miss anything good." An entire row of indy cartoonists swoon in unison. A few posters from the Tothfans website gather by my table and talk about the master. John Hitchcock, famous for putting on the legendary EC shows in the 80's and 90's, shows us a few of his Toth originals and everyone quietly studies them. This prompts Paul Smith into big gestures, and "the Third Hermano", Mario Hernandez tells us some good Toth anecdotes. Site creator Jeff Rose is enjoying seeing the cadre his web hobby has rallied. Treated to lunch by art enthusiast Hart Rieckhof at the Marriott. Apparently there were lots of big time gatherings going on all around us, but it was so bright out there I couldn't see them. Through my squint I could barely make out artist John Heebink sitting across from me at the same table. He showed us some of his Doll and Creature stuff, which should go over well when it hits the stands. I had a big slice of calamari that I couldn't finish, earning me the nickname The Calamari Kid! Okay, no one called me that. Back at the table, gettin' my sketch on. AIT's Larry Young comes by and offers good printing advice, but it soon devolves into debating definitons of Flunkies and Toadies. I wish I had either. Actually, I sometimes did have a table flunky thanks to my old college pal Marc Hodge showing up and helping out. He also kept bringing over good stuff from Bud Plant to look at when I started running dry of inspiration. The Eisners. Now in a giant Convention area, so it doesn't have that same funky smell as in the packed Hyatt room. Lots of things I want to win not winning. Even I was partially nominated by being in the book Fallout, but there wasn't a chance in heck for us since Will Eisner also had a book in the Graphic Album category. I went anyway to show support for our writer/publisher Jim Ottaviani, who displayed amazing dedication to make the book happen. Even to the point of paying me with two prized pages from his art collection. To you out there who scold me for taking such treasure from a good pal... pooey to you from me. It was over 40 pages and then I had to help Lieber! And the pages were Caniff/Sickles and Roy Crane. I'm only human. Then in Short Story, Lieber and wife lost out to Even Dorkin. Still, in a way, we were winners, because we had wine at our table. Back to the awards. Glad to see more exposure for Carla Speed McNeil, who was nominated four times and presented an award in a way-cool corset, wiping the taste of Scott Shaw!'s hawaiian shirt out of everyone's mouth. Sergio Aragones got choked up when they gave him the lifetime achievement award, which got to me as well. They should really give him three of those, since he'd drawn as much as any other artist's life's work a third of the way into his career. Dave Johnson won for Cover Artist, and with his fake pipe in place, shook Will's hand and then took a picture of himself. Fun, made up for other low metabolism-acceptances, and later Dave admitted he was actually quite sweaty-palmed. When I went to show him the picture of him and Eisner, Dark Horse's Mike Richardson was telling him how he felt the industry was moving back to where it was in the late 80's. I'm still processing that statement, but I'd like it to be true. Then maybe we could do the 90's over again without the collector madness and focus on content this time. I meet writer Steven Grant, and now that I've heard his voice, I'm not going to be able to read anything of his without hearing Norm MacDonald narrating. Now it looks like everyone is ready to really start having fun, so Steve and I go back to our hotel and work on our list of sketches until late. And then we're up early the next day for the show. Magical convention energy, I say.

Saturday/Lieber Kaching!

Saturday/Parker Guess I better take up some slack on recounting Saturday, as Lieber was obviously focusing on his only true friend, the dollar. The floor is a madhouse . . . a maadhouse, and I'm staying put doing my drawrings. Lucky for me, lots of notories start parading by the table. My old Malibu editor Hank Kanalz comes by to cool his heels for awhile- nowadays he works with the Warner themeparks. DC editor/conqueror Ivan "the Terrible" Cohen comes by at the same time as Vampirella editor Maureen McTigue, and they lapse into a Martin and Lewis style comedy routine, tormenting every freelancer in sight. I ask Maureen if she could peek around in the Harris Comics' basement and see if there's anything remaining of an unused Vampirella fill-in I did ten years ago. She's a little scared of what's down there, but swore she would bravely go check it out. If we never hear from her again, I apologize. Then a few minutes later, the woman who gave me that job way back when, Meloney Crawford Chadwick comes sashaying by as well. Maybe working in continuity makes one's life work like a comic book, recurring characters and all. Mel introduced me to Brian Neubauer, also a defectee from Dark Horse. They briefly went into their own routine, again using me as straight man. Then they left to use their good material on someone else. Just funnin', they're great people. I finally get up to stretch my legs in the afternoon, and to remind myself why I stay put on Saturdays here. It takes about 20 minutes just to make it halfway across the floor. I see the strangest Laura Croft yet, reminding me of a Segar Popeye character named "Alice". More former softball pals are set up in the high-falootin' painterly section; John Van Fleet, George Pratt, and Scott Hampton. I've appeared in many of John's pieces(click "New") and I'm glad to be 2500 miles away from his hot costumes and lamps. The games I keep referring to-- back in Chapel Hill, most of the area comics folk would get together at a park and play ball on weekends, including Sherry Van Valkenberg, "Strike!" Wieringo, and Richard "Third Base" Case who were sadly not in attendance this weekend. I snap out of my pleasant reminiscing when I enter the bathroom to the unpleasant sounds of a guy retching his brains out. I seriously entertained snapping a picture of his legs under the stall as he whispered sweet nothings into the urn, but thought better of it. Everyone was turning green as his pain continued. Then as I'm walking back onto the floor, some little blonde-haired rascal with a backpack charged past the security woman. With a giant grin he dodged another and weaved his way into the crowd never to be caught. Everyone around got a big laugh out of it, except Security. Later I was hoping young D.B.Cooper would end up by the table so I could congratulate him, but instead the Vomiter came by. I instinctively leaned back and started grabbing some of Steve's comics to throw protectively over mine. That night we go out to eat Cajun with a bunch of people we already talk about too much, and you don't want to hear about us eating anyway. Oh wait, Ink Artist Karl Story was there, I never get to talk about him. He got married! And then back to the room to work on sketches.

Sunday/Lieber Jaime Hernandez is playing monster for his little girl (or perhaps his niece.) He's lumbering from side to side, his arms and curled wide apart into big u-shapes. From behind he looks like one of his own drawings. The impersonation must be pretty good from the front, too, because the girl's eyes grow enormous. Closing time. The guards get antsy and mean as they hustle us out. It takes me a while to get my display down, so I just act like a grinning halfwit. Leonard Kirk is packing away a rubber severed arm. He has completed and sold 112 convention sketches, and they're all beautiful. By the time you read this they've all been sold on ebay for twice what he charges. Raise your damn prices Leonard. Now, to see a man about a horse.

Sunday/Parker Lieber and I get in as early as exhibitors possibly can. I get back to work on an acrylic painting of Catwoman and Batman I had started at the end of the previous day. I spent hours on the thing, and it ended up bringing a measly $130. Note to future auction artists: get your piece done early in the show before everyone's broke. I think they all blew the kitty on the giant Legolas picture which went for over a thousand bucks, if I heard right. Back to the table to finish my sketches. The talented Ne'er-do-well Keiron Dwyer stopped by for a minute and told me where to get his latest issue of LCD. Would it have killed him to carry some in a backpack so we could buy it from him when we see him? So later I trudge all the way to HippyComix and pick one up. It's very funny, but not for everyone. I'm purposely not putting a link to it here in case young'uns are reading this report. Back by the tables of painters again, Ray Lago is having some kind of mini-family reunion. I finally see Heidi MacDonald blurring by, and make her stop for a second. She's already hard enough to find at Comicon, even before she retired her favorite candyass-pink jacket, but now she's even busier as one of the field's major journalists with the online news site Pulse. You can still talk to her, but periodically say "off the record" when doing so. I heard a number of people expressing interest in her Delphi forum Super-Lime Jumping Station, and it's looking poised to become the next big place for discerning types to talk comics on the web. I get clear proof that replacing my boring, imageless blue Interman banner with the warm-colored one full of images works the way I want it to. It snags and lures in no less than Randy Renaldo, creator of Rob Hanes. We get to talkin' adventure comics, and he's got big plans for more of his book. So mostly, things went well. My biggest failing: still thinking like a freelancer, I took on too many sketch commissions which used up the rest of my time that was supposed to go towards meeting retailers. I did get to talk to Rory Root of Comic Relief, who had a good supply of European comics that I wanted to get back to but didn't. And I was lucky that a fair amount of retailers came by the table. But in the future I need to remember I'm a publisher now, and allot my time with that in mind. Fortunately the next stop is the Small Press Expo, where everyone is a publisher, so my priorities will be obvious.

Until next year, San Diego . . .