Friday, July 29, 2011

What I Learned at San Diego Comic-Con: A Writer's Experiments in Self Promotion

I had an time amazing comic-con. If you ever get a chance to go, I highly recommend it (see: Schwag Mountain). That being said: the lines are ridiculous, people lose their freaking minds for the slightest whiff of free shit and sometimes you feel like trapped in mash pit centered in California's unshaven, unwashed armpit. But I would wait and mash for a week for an opportunity to hang out around so much art, and culture and (most importantly) enthusiastic, awesome people.


I've been attending Con for the last three years, but this is the first convention where I worked. First and foremost I worked for Mysterious Galaxy, the local science fiction book store. They are awesome, and -as it turned out- awesomely important to the industry. Secondly, I worked Con for myself. More than anything, I wanted to practice talking to professionals and presenting myself neither as a fanboy nor a schmarry, grasping asshole desperate to promote myself.


Anyway, I think the first thing I learned is I should drop the word networking, as in 'I'm here to professionally network.' While there is nothing wrong the 'networking' (or even 'self promotion') per se, I feel like the term(s) has been sullied by the reek of desperation, the stink of 'think of yourself as a brand beyond any and everything!!!1!.' It's better to not label your interactions, better to just enjoy a conversation with cool people and try and make a conection afterwards (when appropriate). Moreover, when you say you're 'networking' it sounds like your making a bee-line for anyone you think might be important/useful. For me, I tried to talk to pretty much everyone and see what happened. I made some great friends at Con, friends that have nothing to do with publishing/writing. And for me, that's what 'networking' is really about.


Second thing I learned is that publishing reps are all traumatized by the time they've spent in the dank, dark slush mines. That yawning abyss of a billion unsolicited words -99% of which are crap- has left them fully aware of just how many terrible writers are out there; and how each and every terrible author is wholly oblivious to their own faults. So I think whenever you meet someone in publishing (especially if you've only been modestly published like myself) you need to put them at ease that no, you are not going to force your grubby, unedited manuscript upon them. My go to question for anyone in the industry (besides authors) was 'Hey -I'm sure you get this all the time- but I am an author who is querying, is there anything else I should be doing?' All of them responded 'Nope, you're doing exactly what you need to do, getting an agent' although one added 'and keep writing.' Good advice that, and something I intend to follow.

Third thing I learned is that kindness, competence and genuine enthusiasm goes a long way. And I don't think these are things you can fake, honestly. I got a chance to meet the editor of an anthology I just submitted to because I was talking up the first volume to a random attendee. I met the author of a YA series because (unbeknownst to me) he was in the Simon and Schuster booth as I was pitching his series to my wife as her next read. I honestly didn't know what I was doing, but serendipity is cool that way.


Fourth thing I learned is that word of mouth is king when it comes to getting people to read/buy books. However, an easier 'entrance point' to a story/world is like steroids for that word of mouth. I can't tell you how many people said 'My Friends told me to read Harry Dresden/Game of Thrones/Sookie Stackhouse and then I saw the TV show.' I think that, with the sheer hyperabundance of amazing work out there, giving readers a different media, low commitment opportunity to taste a story goes a long way in creating fans. Hence, I think authors should be constantly searching for ways to get their stories to sink tendrils into other media.


I got a lot of no's, but I think I got them in a good way. For example, I asked one of the reps/editors for a publishing house if I could go to their afterparty. She -with the sweet, utterly politic voice all the reps used- said that no, it was only for the Authors. Even though I knew this wasn't true (my boss for the week got invited) I said happily 'Oh, that's ok' and proceeded to have a couple of really nice conversations with her over the course of Con. I even asked how the party had gone, the next day and was rewarded with some juicy author gossip :). It never hurts to ask as long as you follow the Will Wheaton mantra of 'Don't be a Dick.'


I talked to a bunch of writers I admire, but not really about my own writing or my own journey getting published. I can only imagine that they get a little burnt out on strangers asking them to help them 'skip the line' and read a manuscript/introduce to an agent/subscribe to their crappy struggling word guy blog. I was happy to meet them, happy to share how much I liked their work. Because of my employ, I even got to have slightly longer conversations than the other fans even if it meant I had to talk while packing/unpacking boxes of their books.


I didn't give out a ton of business cards but that's ok. I think you just have to play the business card thing by ear. Personally, I only give them out if someone asks for one or If I honestly believe that they would want to contact me (based on some kind of rapport). As a con attendee three years running, I wholly understand how many flyers/promos/cards get handed out only to briefly incontinent the recipient before being trashed. Whenever appropriate, I wrote down names (I'm trying to get better at names) and continued my Comic-Con tradition of asking for sketches from the nonartists I hung out with (some of these separate they paragraphs). This helps me remember the people I talked to and -hopefully- will help them remember me too. In all things, I tried to be the kind of guy that I would want to hang out with.


One thing I haven't quite mastered is name dropping. Generally, I don't like it and I don't do it. At the same time, there is a way to do it right which demonstrates enthusiasm instead of an assholeriffic 'let me tell you about all the awesome people I know and how important I am by extension.'


The other thing I realized (even if I intuitively understood this before) is that being the kind of person that I would want to hang out with means asking questions instead of talking. My go to question for most people is 'What are you passionate about?' (I think it's a good, truer substitute for the the blandly mercenary 'what do you do?' and defiantely results in more interesting answers.) My go to question for authors in a reading setting is 'What question would you like to be asked but almost never are asked? or to put it another way, is there some aspect of your writing or literature that is important but people don't talk/ask enough about?' If I don't wanna go all meta, I'll try 'Are there any films that have been influential in your story telling?' (This is because authors always get asked what their literary influences are.) Basically, asking better questions -while being genuinely interested in the answers- is the best way I know to make a good impression.


The exchanging and remembering of names is incredibly simple and incredibly powerful. I'm trying to do it more often.


I guess that every writer (even this particular struggling word guy) dreams of the Cinderella sweep i.e. someone will 'see the spark in me' and offer to read/exalt my manuscript and from there all my dreams will come true. But in everything, I'm trying to exchange my fantasy of superstardom for a reality of work. Dreams come true, but since I don't have any kind of Godmother (fairy or otherwise) my dreams will come true brick by brick. As such, Comic-Con didn't change my life. But I really and truly believe that I did some really cool work on my foundations. More than anything, Con was my succesful proof of concept that A) I can present myself as a professional B) I can talk to anybody thanks to my bit of charisma and bunch of practice and C) I really am the kind of guy that I would want to hang out with. Awesome. Now, its time to get back to querying agents and writing.


(I have a lot more sketches. If I hear about an interest via comments, I will post them.)




Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Comic-Con Art

This year for Con, I bought two panels in the Art Show (if you're not in the know, the art show is a silent auction/gallery setup upstairs to the side of registration) for two different series: Mashups and Cutups and Characters I Might have Seen in a Videogame Once, Maybe


Characters I Might have Seen in a Videogame Once, Maybe


Squid


Smoker


Forearm Power 

Thug Life 


Game Over!


# 33


Red Laser Gator Says...

Mashups and Cutups

(My apologies for the flash born glare)


The Watcher


Infinity War # 1


Infinity War # 2


Infinity War # 3 


Last Hope


Kaiju

(Not Pictured)

Da Bomb

If you're at Con, and want to see my work (minus horrendous flash glare) check me out in the art show. You cwill find me most of Con working the Mysterious Galaxy Booth, sucking up to publishing reps :). Be sure to say hi!

Ignoring the Overlay published on Starship Sofa


My story 'Ignoring the Overlay' was published in a recent episode of Hugo Award winning podcast Starship Sofa. You can listen here.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Crunch Week

Note: the Blog is on intermittent posting for the next two weeks or so. I have to finish art for sale at comic-con, finish my Cisco class, polish and submit a story for the Machine of Death 2 Anthology, get the first 60 pages of CHEMO amazing, finish another draft of the whole novel and keep working my odd jobs/other assignments. My life is going to be nuts till about the 25th.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

A Word a Day: Bodice-Ripper




When I awoke the next morning; an unknown and thoroughly unpleasant smell assaulted my nostrils. Opening the door to the deck, I discovered a seven foot tall, 40 stone Moore laying across the threshold of my cabin snoring like well... like nothing I'd ever heard before. Vomit and grog had spilled across the creature's shirt, an article of clothing which may once have been at home in some lord's closet but now resembled nothing so much as a napkin wrapped around a particularly filthy, particularly drunk pig. A shocking sight to be sure, and one which nothing in my life -not even the most raucous nights at the inn- had adequately prepared me for. 

As I stepped over the man's belly and turned to my right, I saw three men undoing their pant buttons. With a scratch and a tug they dangled their 'members' over the starboard side of the Sea Witch. Then, in full view of one another, myself and the gods the three began to relieve themselves straight into the sea! I turned, and -spying my discomfort- the men began to jeer that I should join them. Under normal circumstances, I would have responded with a jeer of my own... but these were not normal circumstances. I walked hurriedly away, suddenly terrified that the ship would not even posses a single chamber pot. 

What had I gotten myself into?

I scuttled back towards the cabin and in my haste bumped directly into Jack's broad chest. His eyes were full of fire and hunger... hunger I would have imagined should have been quenched after the events of the preceding evening.

"Good Morrow my Lady, How did you sleep?" He asked, knowing full well that I hadn't slept much at all.

The captain bent into a bow and kissed my hand like a proper gentleman. Glancing up, he pulled me close and -grasping the back of my head- forced me to kiss him. I pushed back with all my strength, until I finally surrendering to the heat. It felt the same as our first kiss the day before, on the street outside the tavern. He pulled my upper lip with his mouth and ended the kiss with the hint of teeth. I forgot all about the stench and the pissing and remembered exactly what I had gotten myself into.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

A Word a Day: DMV

Arthicus son of Grendir raised his father's sword and bellowed 'I SHALL NOT BE MOCKED!'

The troll maiden behind the oak desk raised one of her eyebrows a 20th of an inch. 'I'm not mocking you... Sir' She placed particular emphasis on the title. 'This is the line for new license applications. If you want your Dragon Licence renewed you're going to have to wait in that line over there.' 
She gestured with one her claws to a line that twisted out the castle to a distance the knight didn't care to consider. All manner lout sprawled or ate or slept as they languished in the fiendishly long que. Since intimidation had not swayed the hag, Arthicus have to attempt an appeal to her decency. He sheathed his sword and knelt.

'But -fair lady- I've already been in this line for half a fortnight. And if I don't get my liscence renewed the entire kingdom may be in peril...'
Unfortunately, Arthicus had forgotten that the troll employees of the Dragon Ministry of Valarian had no sense of decency.

'Not my problem. NEXT.'

Arthicus slumped, defeated. He marched towards the back line while his dragon -like all the other dragons in the landing lot- ate and snorted fire. Oh, how Grendir loathed the DMV.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

A Word a Day: Injection


The gurney surged down the hallway, the patient convulsing and thrashing back forth. Light and the sounds of an unidentifiable orchestral movement spilled from his eyes. Even before the EMT said anything, Dr. Bloom knew what was wrong.


"Chromatic Poisoning, got exposed by a bad symbol intrusion over on fletcher."

Dr. Bloom glanced at the man's chart, even as he prepped the needle. Finding the vein with ease born of long practice, he plunged 75 ccs of purest black into the patient's arm to absorb the light and supress development until they could perform the operation.

"Ok, we need to get him in surgery. We've got about twenty minutes before he's enfloded into a portal."

Saturday, July 2, 2011

A World a Day: Fantasy

They'd filled with shop with curios aimed at middle aged women with more money than sense. Every shelf was littered with beaded dogs figurines, tiny ceramic shoes and all manner of of curio bric a brac. But I knew what I had to do. Hands hidden within within the toys, body painted green; I walked in the store and raised my arms bellowing 'Hulk Smash!'

I had 30 seconds to upend every table before fleeing. The shopkeepers didn't know what hit them.

A Word a Day: Journey

Samanth and D'Arren walked over the sand, saying little and thinking less. Try to keep your mind on putting one foot forward, one after the other after the other... the Seer had told them that was the only way to cross the tulpa dunes. The rumor was that out here, imagination had a way of getting you killed. Samantha wanted to dismiss such notions as nothing more than superstition, but the things she'd seen... well it was best not to think of the things she'd seen.  Better to just keep moving, stalking Petra through the freezing nights and sleeping through the sweaty heat of the day.

The passed the bones caravan camels and the bones of men in tattered rags and the bones of the aeroplanes they used to fly before the world moved on. They kept walking.

Her companion grabbed her arm, gestured with his chin after she'd turn to look at him. There, in the distance, Petra was even larger than she could've imagined. She inhaled deeply, off balance now that the city loomed so close. But she had a task, and being dumb-awed by the city wouldn't help her to complete it. She motioned to D'Arren, guiding him to the hollow of a dune to make camp. They set the tent and once inside she began to empty her bag. Little vials and pots of old world magic tumbled out: Revlon, Covergirl, Maybelline. She would spend the rest of the night bathing -using what little water remained to them- and anointing herself to prepare the glamour, preparing. Tomorrow she would enter the city in glory and claim what was hers.