So far, I'll be attending...

Maine Comics Art Festival.......May 19th
Heroes, NC.......June 7-9th
Baltimore, MD......September 7-8th
Dublin, Ireland.....September 28-29th
NYCC......October 10-13th
Belo Horizonte, Brazil......Nov 13-17th
Thought Bubble, UK........Nov 23-24th

I also plan on attending shows in Paris, Belgium, and the Philippines, and the NYC book expo, but I don't have dates yet.

Sorry, but no plans for SDCC this year. Also, no commissions this year.

S

I love doing podcasts, and I always try to be honest and open, but the one I did with Ink Pulp Audio (and my friend Shawn Crystal) is by far the best podcast I've ever done. We sat down in our hotel room at SDCC in 2012, poured a few bourbons and unleashed a raw, honest, and uncompromising conversation about religion, comics, and our history of trying to survive the industry. I wish all podcasts were like this, but few people are equipped to ask the right questions. Because Shawn's an old friend and really gifted SCAD teacher, I think he's easily becoming the Oprah of comics, and I mean that in a good way.

We start chatting about 15 minutes in, but I think the whole thing is worth a listen:

[link]

Here's a [link] to the book! There's also a new interview I did with Amazon. I'll post more of the new content for the trade as we get closer to the April.

S

To many people in comics, I only arrived a few years ago with Joe the Barbarian. Then came Hellblazer (completed in 2008 before I began working on Joe), American Vampire: SOTF, and finally Punk Rock Jesus. Once in a while someone will mention Off Road (an OGN I did with Oni back in 2004), but for the most part it seems like I've been published only these last few years when in fact I've been published professionally for a decade now.

This isn't a plea to have everyone go back through my previous work--in fact, I'm glad that a lot of the books I've done over the years aren't on readers' radars. I'm proud of it all, but the books above are a nice, tight group of titles to be associated with. They're all in a similar brand, they're all recent, they all have good creators/publishers associated with them, and the artwork is mostly consistent. Go back further than that, and you'll see artwork that looks nothing like the stuff I'm doing these days. (Although Off Road still holds up to some degree.)

I realized I hit the 10-year-mark only a few days ago, and I wanted to write something about the past 10 years, so here's my list of Top 5 Mistakes

5. Not getting paid

I won't mention the company (I have in the past, and it's not worth more drama)--at this point it would only give them undeserved attention. But when I was still in college, I did 3 issues over a summer and never got paid. I had a contract, but it was written in such an amateur way by the publisher that there was nothing I could do legally. 3 months were wasted when I could have gotten a job at Home Depot to pay my college bills, but I learned a valuable lesson about trusting publishers. I haven't been burned since, and that's because I've become a viper when it comes to paperwork and negotiations. I can be unpleasant and overly suspicious, I'm sure, but it's the only way I know how to protect myself.

I'm not sure how I would have avoided this at the time. Now I'm better at noticing shifty behavior from people and knowing whom to avoid. Back then, I was too young to see it. Oh well, lesson learned.

4. Learning valuable things about art, then ignoring them

At SCAD Savannah (the impressive Atlanta campus didn't exist yet), I'd sometimes have time to do a page in a week, and I would use the time to explore a lot of different techniques, tools, and ways of mark-making. During the latter half of school, I began getting work with Dark Horse on Star Wars Tales, and then on a book called Crush (once I'd graduated). It was the first time I'd been forced to work at a page-per-day, so I stripped away the stuff I'd learned (in and out of class) for a more streamlined look. Instead of using brush, quill and ink, I used Microns and French curves. The art was slick and had lots of movement, but it lacked depth. It was plastic, lazy and unimaginative. For two years I was coasting on cruise control and not challenging myself. The art served the story and nothing more--there was never a panel to drool over. Never anything to hang on a wall. There are guys who have found many ways to effectively use Micron, but I'm not one of them.

It wasn't until I started inking Zach Howard on some unpublished Vertigo pages (this was 2004) when I began to use the brush and quill again. Microns and Rapidographs were taking too long and I couldn't make the tools embrace how dynamic Zach's art was, so I forced myself to pick up the older tools. It was clunky at first, but after a few months it was like rediscovering a limb. And I've never looked back.

To this day, I'm still trying to think of a good reason why I stopped using them in the first place. My career might be 2 years advanced if I'd never done that.


3. Store signings

The one thing I've never gotten over the past ten years is get a line of people at a comic shop signing. And I'm not asking for a killer line, just any line at all.

I'm sure if I did more high profile superhero stuff, it would happen. But with how well things have been going lately with Joe, Vampire, Blazer and PRJ, I would have expected to get a least some kind of showing, especially in NYC. But it never happens. The best one so far has been at Casablanca Comics in Portland, Maine. And even though it was somewhat successful, I had plenty of time to stare at stacks of books that I wasn't signing.

There's a lot to gain by doing store signings, of course. It means a lot to people who can't travel, it gives you time to spend quality time with readers, and it's often a free mini vacation to wherever the store is. But 9 times out of 10, it's usually a disappointment for me and the store owner. And I always apologize to him as I leave the store, my head lowered between my shoulders in shame.

Here's why I think I do so poorly at these things: half my readers are women who don't like going in comic shops. Lots of them brave it out, sure, but most don't because--let's face it--a lot of shops are creepy. I also think that many Vertigo readers prefer to buy the trades in books stores or order stuff online. Or they download in digital.

Whatever the reason, I've decided not to do any more store signings for a while. They're great for keeping an artist humble, but I've found them very depressing.

2. Turning down Assassin's Creed 3

I mentioned this before, but I was offered a chance to work on Assassin's Creed. I was also offered the chance to work with a lot of great writers over the past few years--one was even offering $1000 per page. But I turned them down to do Punk Rock Jesus.

I'm glad I chose to stick with PRJ--great gigs will always be there, but finding a window to do your own stuff is really hard. But every time I drive by an Assassin's Creed billboard, see a commercial or hold an action figure, I feel a tinge of regret. And now that I'm trying to put a down payment on a house in Brooklyn, part of me wishes that I'd taken a script more lucrative than PRJ.

But not really.

1. Insecurity

My thoughts on the psychology of being an artist are always evolving. I'll spare you a drawn out emo-description of what it's like inside an artist's brain, because most people on dA know exactly what I'm talking about. And that's my point--no matter how much we fight it, we can all be overly sensitive, emotional, and very insecure. That's just the price of creativity, I think.

I used to pretend that I wasn't insecure because I thought it put me above the drama and the hen-pecking I see at conventions and online. And you can see all kinds of insecurity playing out if you know what to look for. There's the "quick-to-anger" artist: getting upset so quickly is a defense mechanism to quickly isolate himself and appear alpha in a situation. There's the "emo-hipster" artist: being a comic artist isn't enough, so he decks himself out in some sort of costume complete with leather bracelets, floppy hair, and a b&w artist bio photo. Or there's the "I-don't-care" artist: he claims to not read comics and will go out of his way to act like he's not caring what people think--while constantly checking his Google alerts.

There are a bunch more, and I've inhabited many of these roles over the years. And there's nothing wrong with being any of them, but try not to kid yourself because (chances are) you've got baggage.

The types of creators I'm really drawn to these days are the ones who admit their insecurity in some way. And by no means are these creators above it; they still let bad reviews get to them, they're not above trolling the internet for mention of their name, and they usually keep a list of "I don't like this creator and here's why" on the edge of their tongue. But at the end of the day, these creators do their best to laugh, admit that they're not perfect either, calm down, and try not to take it all so seriously.

I find that doing this for a living requires constant monitoring of your state of mind. Patrolling myself for weirdness, immaturity and other artist-insecurity is part of the daily grind. Of course, focusing too much is its own form of insecurity and egocentrism, so be careful.

And when I fail at this (and it happens a lot), it's always my biggest regret.

I wrote a blog once that urged comic artists to try writing their own books. I held back a bit on what I said--Punk Rock Jesus hadn't come out yet, so I didn't feel like I had the proper authority to really speak up.

Since then, there's been a lot more discussion about the etiquette of publishers toward their freelancers, the recent rise of creator owned books, and the effects of Hollywood moving into comics (or vice versa). And as friend of mine at Newsarama pointed out recently, I'm one of a few guys who's found a middle ground--not only because I'm writing and drawing my own book, but because my OGN is partially owned by DC Comics.

Certain events of the last year have created new concerns within our industry. Do you still need to work for big publishers if you want to "make it"? Do they deliver a better product than creator owned books? Are the Big Two treating creators as fairly as they've always been? Between the rise of digital comics and comic-based movies, are creators getting their fair share? Are comic companies adapting properly to the changing landscape?

Whatever the answers to these questions might end up being, two things are becoming clear to me.
1. Now is the best time in the HISTORY OF COMICS to be doing a creator owned book.
2. Being a writer as well as an artist gives you more power, which is helpful in these uncertain times.

Frank Miller is a successful artist/writer combo. So is Paul Pope. Mike Mignola, Jeff Lemire, Bill Watterson, Will Eisner, David Lapham...the list goes on. And there are a ton of indy artist/writers that also put out a good product, although many will tell you that they don't make a lot of money doing it.

So if we know it's possible to be a writer/artists combo, why don't more artists try it?

The truth is that most attempts at being a combo fail. No one wants to be the artist who mills away for years writing (what he thinks will be) his opus, only to have it end up a laughable failure. But I think most of these attempts fail because artists don't respect writing as an individual craft--rather they think that being in comics for long enough means they've developed writing skills simply through osmosis.  

Which is bullshit. And it's disrespectful to your medium. Just because you can stand on a hardwood floor doesn't mean you know how to build one.

What are other reasons not to write? Maybe you have no desire to write. Maybe you don't think you'll be good at it. Maybe you have a family and bills that prohibit you from taking the time to pursue it properly. Or maybe you feel like the industry's attitude against writer/artist combo is too steadfast.

Some of these are good reasons. But even if you don't think you want to write, the benefit of being a artist/writer combo deserves your consideration. Don't you owe it to yourself and to your family to try make the most out of your career by wearing two hats instead of one?

READ ONE BOOK

My first argument is to commit to one book. Over the past 7 years and in my spare time, I've read 7 books on writing and screenplays. And while I'm no expert, I've managed to have success with Punk Rock Jesus. What does that tell me? It says that it's possible to read 7 books on writing and manage to produce something (at least) average to most comics. You might not be Mark Millar, Ron Marz, or John Arcudi on your first try, but that's okay--you're not looking for excellence, you're looking for proficiency. It's possible to pull off a decent OGN if you're willing to learn the fundamentals.

Here's a list of books I've read about writing. I suggest you pick one and read it. If you finish reading and still have no interest in writing, then that's fine--I guarantee your storytelling will have improved, as well as you ability to recognize a good/bad script. But if the book is even marginally interesting to you, then you might have the chops for a decent OGN.

Screenplay by Syd Field
Good Script, Bad Script by Thomas Pope
The Comic Toolbox by John Vorhaus
Making a Good Script Great by Linda Seger
Save the Cat by Blake Snyder (this is a popular one lately)
Story by Robert McKee
The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell

I have a movie screenplay approach to my writing, which isn't necessarily the best way. In fact, you might disagree with some of the things you'll read, and that's fine. The reason I recommend the screenplay approach is because it's more efficient: you can view/dissect 4 movie plots in an afternoon, whereas a novel can take weeks to read. And I feel comics have more in common with movies than any other medium.

OGN vs FREELANCE

Working as a freelance writer for a publisher, from what I'm told by my writing friends, can be really hard and unfair. Writing's hard enough, but pleasing a publisher makes it a lot harder. Here's a list of problems you might encounter while working with a publisher:

-You're hired to write X, but then X changes halfway through. And you don't get paid extra for rewrites.
-You submit an idea when suddenly a bigger writer comes along, sees it, likes it, and takes it for his own.
-You finish a plot, but are then told you can't use certain characters because another writer wants to use them.
-You have to write plots that you don't like--plots sometimes  invented by people who don't know what they're doing.
-Someone might chang your dialog without telling you. And you don't find out until it's on the stands.
-You're ready to get started, but the publisher puts it on hold. Or artist X spends too much time on Twitter and not enough time hitting his deadlines, the bastard.

These problems are mostly avoidable if you're doing your own stuff. Even if you're not as good as a professional writer, the grueling editorial process imposed on most writers might be enough to give you an edge.

THE GARAGE ARGUMENT

While publishers have the most money, the best creators and the best distribution/advertising, they're still LIMITED from doing whatever they want. Batman brings a lot of money into DC, and while they want to have the best Batman stories possible, a writer can't do anything he wants with the character. They need Batman to be relatively unchanged, because merchandizing and movies necessitate it. That's obviously why comic "deaths" aren't usually permanent, and we all know it can lower the quality of the books. Now when Captain America dies, some of us just shrug. That's the cost of the "limiter" on comics--it keeps us from telling the Shakespeareanly-epic stories that freelancer writers are capable of.

In a way, a major publisher is like BMW--they've got a recognizable brand, a long history, and more capital than a "do-it-yourself-er" in a garage. BMW can afford to spend $100,000 to make sure the sound of the locking mechanisms isn't too loud. They even makes some of the best engines--some are so fast, that they even put a limiter to make sure it doesn't go over 200 mph.

Now why would BMW add a limiter? Why build an amazing engine and then stop it from reaching maximum performance? The reason is this: adding the proper brakes, suspension and other gadgets that allow a car to go over 200 mph safely would make that car too expensive. In other words, BMW wants to make an impressive car, but they know it's not practical to make it go "full tilt".

So what's Punk Rock Jesus?

PRJ is a custom car built in a shed by a single mechanic, me. While it might not compete with BMW, it does have some of the same parts (same paper, drawing supplies, DC distribution, and a DC editor). I also have the help of a BMW caliber designer (me the artist). And while I don't have the normal pit-crew BMW has (DC colorist, writer, inker, or the recognition of a character like Batman), I also don't have a limiter so I'm relatively free to make the car as fast as I want (I can create any character, subject, background, kill anyone at will, etc). At the end of the day it might not be a Z4, but my car just might beat it in a drag.

LEVEL "C"

Sometimes I think it's better to be a combo artist/writer on a "C" level book than an artists on an "A" level book.

As I said before, being a writer gives you more power. Even if your script isn't at Scott Snyder level, at least it's YOURS. Tons of artists talk about doing their own thing one day, but you actually DID IT. You'll gain new readers, do more interviews, be invited to more shows--a writer/artist combo is way more likely to get comped at a convention because for the same price, they're flying in both the writer and the artist--YOU.

Yes, being on Batman is also great, because Batman is giving you a boost. But it's easy to forget that Batman is going to outshine you, and many people won't give your art the attention it deserves. That doesn't happen when you're doing your own book.

OWNERSHIP

In my opinion, artists who have been in comics for decades but OWN NOTHING are irresponsible.  After years of toiling away on your craft, dragging your ass to shows, pouring thousands of hours of sweat into pages and commissions, you never found the time on the side to do even ONE 4-issue miniseries that you own?!

Shame on you. Even if you didn't want to write, you could have owned something with a writing friend.

Owning something that turns into Hellboy is unlikely, of course. But ownership of your characters pays off in lots of little ways. Maybe a second edition will make you some extra cash. Maybe the European editions will make you more. Maybe you've got enough of a hit to get more money for a sequel. Maybe  you saved your process sketches and can sell a sketchbook on the side. Or maybe it won't get made into a movie, but the option money alone could pay for a mortgage.

With the digital age of comics, writing and drawing your own stuff is easier than ever. Big publishers are nervous about the options small press and self-publishing offer--and they should be, especially when you see what some of these guys are getting on Kickstarter! Even if you decide writing isn't for you, I just wanted to write this post and encourage you to give it more thought.

Good luck.

About a month ago I finally got to meet an art hero of mine, Klaus Janson, a well known pro who's been in the industry for over 30 years. A mutual friend introduced us, and we hit it off right away. The group of us went through the Village hitting pub after pub, and soon I was drunk enough to ask Klaus something that had been bugging me.

I asked him if modern comic artists are, on average, slower than we used to be. He said yes, and I agreed.

From the Golden Age until the 80s, pencillers were generally expected to turn in at least two pages a day, while an inker was expected to turn in around 3-4. There were a handful of exceptions, I'm sure, but most of the artists could pump out pages like human printing presses. In the current comic industry, it's completely reversed: while a handful of artists can still hit this speed, the vast majority can't. Pencillers today struggle to produce a page-per-day, while inkers (those who still ink with ink) are hitting around 2.

So what happened? I've talked to a number of artists and a few comic reporters about this, and they came up with a lot of great points that I'd never considered. With their help I was able to construct a loose time line the helps explain what I think happened: artists are slower because the industry has allowed it.

THE 90s
There are a lot of great things that came out of the 90s: creative ownership, new titles, computer coloring, etc. The idea of a superstar artist wasn't new (Adams, Romita, Toth and Kubert), but the idea of superstar artists handling their own books was. The only hitch was that the Image guys, some of whom were extremely talented, were not workhorses like their predecessors (granted, few of the above ever started their own publishing company). Many late books didn't bother to use fill-in artists, rather they'd just delay the release until the superstar was done. And because the books made so much money, there was no monetary pressure to stay on schedule with the rest of the series. Suddenly it was okay that books were late because they were selling really well.

This, by they way, still makes no sense to me--why didn't they strike while the iron was hot and put out as many issues as possible? If there was ever a reason to force someone to work faster, it was during the 90s when they were printing their own money.

And while the 90s are over (supposedly), that decade forever increased publishers' tolerance for slower artists. Especially when it comes to tent-pole books: instead of hiring artists who can fit the schedule, the schedule is now created to fit the superstar. Whoever says that it's not an "artist's industry" anymore is wrong. Having the artist serve the book means the artists is forced to work quickly. Having it the other way around means more delays. But that's not always a bad thing...

QUALITY
While looser deadlines meant more fill-ins, delayed books and shaky schedules, it also meant that readers got a chance to see art that would never had been published before: guys like Travis Charest and Art Adams. Certain artists used the looser deadline to raise the bar, and because so many readers gravitated toward these more detailed styles, comic art became seen more as a "craft" and less as a means to an end.

Don't get me wrong--we had "craft" artists before (guys mentioned above), but those styles were created to fit a schedule of  2-3 pages a day. With looser deadlines, artists are freer to express themselves more completely on the page, and with that freedom comes a wider range of styles, some which take longer than others. One could argue that if you want to stand out these days, you're better off pushing a meager 3 pages a week--I mean, how else are you going to compete with the amazing talent of Paquette or Coipel, guys who's pages clearly take more time to produce.

CONVENTIONS/COMMISSIONS
Another contributing factor is that artists take more time off for conventions and commissions. Personally, I think it's irresponsible to attend a show if an artist is behind on deadlines, but that doesn't seem to stop so many from going. But I understand that comics don't always pay well (especially with artists who are slow), and there's a lot of cash to be made selling sketches, prints, and sketchbooks. More than once, I've seen editors get upset when their late artist shows up at a convention. Yet, they'll continue to tolerate it, because it's the new standard of the industry. Publishers are often so busy gearing up for shows that even the editors will fall behind.

THE NET
Having an internet makes a comic career easier than ever. Not only is it great for quickly looking up references, it also speeds up communication with your publishers and allows artists to quickly check word balloon placement, color samples, and final PDFs before going to print. Of course, the net also provides a lot of vices--frivolous email checking, Skyping, and Tweeting probably makes the net more of a hindrance when it comes to speed. And while Google searching your references is helpful, it's also time consuming and allows some artists to become obsessive. Social networking is great for loneliness and reaching out to fans, but it's bad for speed.

And for the record, I have nothing against a slow artist. In fact, most of my favorite artists aren't fast--Zach Howard, Olivier Coipel, Yanick Paquette, and dozens of European comic artists. These guys slave over their work for an ungodly amount of time, and it's clear when you see the final product because it's something you want to hang in a museum. I wouldn't want them working any faster because the work would suffer. For some artists, being meticulous is part of the process, and I respect that.

But what we shouldn't respect is lazy. A lot of times I'll hear artists complaining about deadlines, and how the publisher needs to respect his meticulous working process. And that argument is completely valid-- assuming that their art is meticulous, well crafted and carefully considered. Which, often times, it isn't. Lucky, we now inhabit an industry more tolerant of lazy, it seems.

I did an interview once where someone asked me about being a fast artist (I draw a page per day, pencils and inks within 6-12 hours, 20 page a month). I told the interviewer that I wasn't that fast at all compared to Bagley, Cook and Davis. But considering the average speed of artists today, I could see why some would consider me fast. Then he asked me what my secret was. And I told him there was no secret--I just focus on my work, I don't waste time on the computer or playing video games, and I don't stop until I'm finished, even if it means working late.

I'm still babbled, so please share your thoughts, folks. I'm not totally convinced by some of the arguments I've put forth, either, so feel free to disagree. And help me answer this question:

In a world with time-saving devices like Cintiqs, Sketchup, digital cameras and PS filters, why are some artists still so slow?

Thanks for the ideas everyone! Here's the post many of you requested...
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Here's a sample of responses I've heard from some editors over the years when I've raised practical business concerns regarding comic book publishing:

"No, we don't know exactly what books you'll be doing, but we're (insert name of big publisher) Comics, so sign exclusive with us and not (insert name of competing publisher who has titles ready for you)!"

"This is a (insert name of big writer) book! I know he's late, but just think of how many people would love to be in your shoes!"

"The page rate isn't good, but at least you'll be getting to work with (name of big superhero whom you're supposed to be a fan of)!"

"We won't fly you out or put you into a hotel, but you should come so you can sign at the booth for us! Who doesn't love signing autographs?"

What do these statements have in common? They're emotional arguments made to sidestep your  legitimate professional concerns--and they only work if you're in "awe" of comics. Being a comic creator is fun because you get to pick up your proverbial toys again. But there's a danger in being too in "awe" of the medium where you might end up wearing blinders, increasing your chances of being affected by bad business practices.

For example, a publisher is offering you a title, but the page rate stinks. When you ask about getting your normal rate, the publisher politely reminds you that it's a Teen Titans book, hoping to play off your emotional love for Cyborg to allow him to ignore the normal business practice: maintaining your page rate.

Emotional arguments don't have any real use in the business world--the world where it's all about the bottom line and what's written down on contracts. Imagine that you're buying a car, but you want only want to pay 50% of the sticker price. The salesman asks why you think you should get that price, and you explain that your mother just died, hoping that the salesman (who likely has a mother of his own) will empathize and agree to let you have the car for less. In other words, you're asking him to ignore normal business practices because of the emotional charge of your predicament. And while he might empathize with you, there's no way he'd allow you to take advantage like that.

I ran into an emotional argument with myself over Batman once. I'm a huge fan of Batman: The Animated Series. My love of Batman is fueled by my emotional attachment to him as a kid. Last year I was offered a 6 page fill-in on a Batman story--there were delays and they needed someone quick. The emotional argument in my head was this: I love Batman, how cool would it be to do a Batman story in my current style? But I turned it down because the professional argument was stronger: it's better for me to wait on a bigger Batman project, not one that's just a fill-in, but one that really showcases my art. No one looks good on a fill-in (I also had PRJ in the works and other reasons for turning it down).

You could argue (as my friends did) that another professional argument is this: doing the fill-in could get you onto other Batman gigs! And you're right--that's a good argument. But whichever decision you make, we can agree that the stronger argument is usually made professionally, not emotionally.

The runaway "awe" factor in comics is something professionals do to themselves, I feel. We're all in love with the medium, and we're all thrilled to be making a living. And the shakier it gets out there, the more thankful we are to get any job offer, I know. But the more we allow ourselves to think as "fans" and not "professionals,"  the easier it is for editors can play off our "awe".

To be clear, there a lot of great editors who don't work this way. They treat you as a professional and take the industry seriously. The writers, artists, and editors whom I consider most trustworthy and helpful are the ones whom are very low on the "awe" factor. And when you see them at conventions, they're not usually big on meet-and-greets or at crowded bars where back-slapping runs rampant.

What are some other ways being in "awe" might hurt you? Maybe a huge writer wants to do a book with you, and you're so thrilled to be teamed up with him, you shy away from asking for a bigger cut of the profits. Or maybe you're a writer who's head-over-heals for Superman, and now that you're calling some of the shots, you're too afraid to take any real chances with the character.

Don't get me wrong--I'm not suggesting you not be excited about getting work. You've just got a call that you'll be taking over X-Men? Good for you--hit the pub with your friends and go get hammered. But as soon as your hangover clears up, time to act like a pro and do your best to separate yourself from the little kid inside. Yes, you'll dip into being a little kid again, but hopefully not at those moments when an editor asks you to keep working even though your last paycheck is a week late.

Watch out for emotional arguments! And not just in comics but everywhere--especially in entertainment based jobs where being in "awe" can be a detriment.

A friend of mine (and ex teacher at The Kubert School) Gabe Bridwell suggested I write something about how I wrote Punk Rock Jesus. So here it is! Also, check out Gabe's great work at this [link]
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In a way, I've been writing PRJ since before Off Road.

Originally, it was called "Kael" and starred an IRA freedom fighter/terrorist named Thomas McKael who sees the error of his ways, and eventually turns things around to become the hero. But the history of the IRA was too complex for a 23-year-old first time writer, so after months of research and failed scripting attempts, I put it aside to work on "Off Road" instead.

Years later--in 2006 I think--I started piecing together "Punk Rock Jesus". I'd just read an article on human cloning and began wondering whom the first human clone would be. And the answer came immediately: someone would clone Jesus Christ. And then they'd probably turn it into a reality show (the American Idol frenzy was in full force back then). But then what? I decided that the clone would likely reject American celebrity and escape. The punk rock thing came next, and soon I had a working title "Punk Rock Jesus". This all happen in 5 minutes, I'd say.

To be honest, when I came up with the title, I thought it was stupid. It was just a place holder until I could think of something better. But after calling the story "Punk Rock Jesus" for many years, it's hard of me to call it anything else. And DC's marketing department agrees.

When I first wrote "Kael", I considered myself a Catholic. But between then and writing PRJ, I'd become an atheist. At first, writing about Jesus was meant as a dig toward American Christians, but that's not true anymore. Even though I'm doubtful there was ever a historical Jesus, many of the Biblical stories are filled with values I share: peace, kindness to others, and the questioning of authority. I came to realize that I had a lot in common with many Christians--many are unhappy with what the church has become, it's involvement in politics, etc. And many are sickened by what American media often projects to us and our kids. A story where Jesus comes back to life and rejects what America and it's media have become? Many Christians will probably LOVE "Punk Rock Jesus". And in the end, Jesus might not be an atheist--you'll have to read to find out.

I managed to fold my "Kael" story into the plot as well--by making him a reformed IRA (as opposed to an active member), the reader is able to see Thomas McKael as a good guy. And his violent past just makes him a  likeable bad-ass, I think.

I wrote 7 versions of the script between 2006 and now. It was designed as a 180 page graphic novel. I started drawing pages even though I hadn't shopped it to publishers--with the power of DA, I figured that if I started showing the work, some publisher would eventually offer me a contract (the PRJ pages I posted years ago are from that first attempt--and they've all been redrawn). But that plan was put on hold when I started getting steam with Vertigo. I began work on PRJ again when Joe scripts started being late.

When Joe was finished, I began talking to DC about "Punk Rock Jesus". Vertigo wanted to do it, but they suggested breaking it into 6 issues of 32 pages each. My editor Karen Berger went through the script and found natural breaking points in the story where we could end each issue--this wasn't easy, because I wrote the script in a prose/screenplay style, and not the normal comic book format. I was happy to break it up into issues for Vertigo if that's what Karen wanted. Throughout most of this process, I've been very willing to change the story and work in my editor's suggestions.

I have none of the "this is my baby so you stay away" attitude--I know the process is a team effort and I try to embrace a good idea when I hear one. Luckily, Karen and I have a good relationship and I'm very thankful for that.

My background in writing is more based in movie scripting than in comics or prose. Many of my friends in Hollywood had me read books about writing screenplays (as opposed to prose) which means playing by strict rules: cut out as much dialog as possible, make each scene count, add visual cues to tell the story wherever possible. To me, comics is closer to movies than other mediums, but other writers will disagree.

To be honest, I don't think of myself as a writer. By no means will I ever try to go toe-to-toe with Snyder, Ennis, Remender, Marz, or Arcudi. This guys spent years tuning their brains into storytelling mechanisms. Me? I can ratchet together a plot and then draw it, hopefully fooling people into thinking that I'm a writer.

"Punk Rock Jesus" will probably be a fast read. Coming from a screenplay background, I used no caption balloons and tried to limit the voice overs (although Goodfellas and Shawshank break this rule well). The other thing I stayed away from doing was having description of dates and places--for example, most comics will write "Chicago, 1942" on a panel, whereas I'll zoom up on a newspaper date instead. I prefer the creative solution to the crutches, if I can help it.

There are a few choices I made for PRJ that I still question the wisdom of. The biggest is my solution to covering a story that stretches throughout 14 years (the clone is age 14 when he escapes). I settled on a storytelling "no-no"--using a news broadcast to cover large events and dates. It can be a crutch, but because the media is such a large character in my book, using a media news broadcast seemed acceptable. The reporter himself becomes an important character, so hopefully people won't be to upset that I went with this decision.

That's all I can think to say. I don't have as much clout as a writer as I do an artists, so I'll end it here. Thanks for reading!

July 11th, everyone.

JULY 11th, everyone!

Here's a [link] to an interview I did with Newsarama. The series will be a B&W 6 issue mini with 32 pages of art (instead of the normal 22). Tell your local shop to pick some up, because they might not be the type to take chances on non-colored books.

I'll be at C2E2 and Boston this month SELLING some original PRJ pages, so stop by if you're interested (I'll be at the Essential Sequential booth). Because I'm not officially selling art via the website (not until the book hits the shelves in July), now's your chance to grab something before the crowd. Joe the Barbarian #1 sold out in a day, and while this isn't a Morrison book, pages might be hard to get, especially because I'm only selling half (more on that later).

Thanks for the support--I know I've been teasing this book forever by posting/unposting pages and whatnot.

Last week when I said that I wouldn't be doing con sketches of copyrighted characters, I had no idea that the news would get the coverage that it did.  But seeing as how I helped poke the hornet's nest--and having taken the time to read the opinions of readers and other artists--I feel like it would be helpful if I responded to help clarify what's been happening.

First off, I think that what happened regarding this issue highlighted the BEST of our industry.  I'm thrilled with the results, although I don't find Marvel's statement reassuring (more on that later).  When we learned that Marvel was pursuing the $17,000 from Friedrich, we came together as concerned professionals and fans and managed to affect the situation.  Even though we disagreed, at least we weighed out the options.  And we even came together to set up funding to help out Friedrich.  With the use of Twitter, blogging, and proper action from the media outlets, we all handled this very well.  We showed such clamor for the situation, we even prompted  Marvel to address the situation publicly.

Again, I think it was a good week for our industry.  And I think we should stand tall.

When I made my statement, it wasn't meant to spread fear.  It was mostly meant to pass along the possible legal ramifications of doing con sketches. I hate to bring down the party, but clearly the issue is in a legal "gray" area.  Read the fine print of copyright law: even if you're not making money, you could still get into trouble.  So everyone reading this has to make their own choice on what to do.  If you decide to continue making sketches/prints/sketchbooks of characters owned by Marvel, DC, Dark Horse, Lucasfilm, Capcom, or any other corporation, then you'd better memorize the following statement, because this is essentially what you're saying:

I call it the Artist Alley Accession...

"I understand that sketches/prints/sketch books are in a legal gray area, but I'm going to continue doing them in hopes that the rightful owners of the characters decide to continue looking the other way.  The long-standing tradition of convention drawings, and the fact that almost everyone in comics is doing this, IN NO WAY protects me from legal action that a corporation might one day take.  If that day comes, I'll pay the price.  But for now I'm hoping I'll get away with it because I feel it would be silly for a corporation to ruin the fun of convention sketching."

While I was thrilled that Marvel addressed this issue, it doesn't change anything for me.  The CBR question addressed the drawing of Spider-Man--it would have been easy for Marvel to say, "We won't come after anyone for making a con sketch of Spider-Man," but they didn't exactly say that.  They said that they weren't making any new policy announcements, and that they were glad that people could get sketches from their favorite Marvel artists.  To me, that statement is purposefully vague.  You might think I'm splitting hairs, but I think there was a reason why Marvel didn't say that the sketches could be SPECIFICALLY of Marvel characters.  If they gave the green light like that, then they'd lose ground in the future if there ever was another lawsuit.

Last year I drew the Wolverine ABCs.  When it was done, I printed out around 200 sketchbooks of them to hand out to industry friends.  I knew enough about copyright law to know that I was in the gray area, even though they were only meant to be given away as gifts.  I also gave them to people and editors who worked at Marvel--clearly I wasn't trying to hide what I'd created.  Because I was a pro and because I wasn't selling them, I figured I'd be fine.  After three conventions of EVERYONE telling me I should sell them, I broke down and sold some.  At the last show that season, I sold the remaining 40 copies or so.

Then Marvel called.  I explained that I didn't have a warehouse of sketchbooks, I only made around 200 (or close to that) and mostly I gave them away.  I explained how none of the Marvel editors complained when I handed them one, and my lack of hiding the ABCs should show the innocent nature of my endeavor.  I even offered to sign a Cease and Desist, and pay them the money I made selling the last 40.  But Marvel wanted the rights to the ABCs--they wanted to own them and pay me nothing.  I wasn't willing to do that, so I got a lawyer.  And we eventually came together and agreed to drop the subject if I simply removed them from my site and promised not to make any more sketchbooks.

I was in the wrong. I really can't be angry at Marvel for their actions.  They were in the right, even though some things at conventions are tolerated, it's still technically wrong.  My mistake was being a higher-profile artist and making a themed book out of Marvel characters.  I was surprised that it led to the threat of legal action, but it's not my call to make.  I apologized to Marvel up and down, and I still feel incredibly stupid for what I did.

To be clear, I support Marvel's decision and I'm happy we worked out an arrangement.  I bear them no ill will, and am only telling this story to outline the rights of both the creator and the corporation.  I'm not trying to be provocative, only trying to help illustrate what creators need to do to protect themselves.  Because I honestly believe that corporations don't want to go after creators, because it makes them the bad guy.  Which they're often not.

My mistake was thinking that it was no big deal ... because most people in comics don't think it's a big deal.  But most people haven't dealt with Marvel like I have, and that's what fueled my involvement in this entire issue.

I know people think I'm overreacting--I don't care.  And I don't care if the industry standard is to keep making sketches/prints/sketchbooks, and I don't care if people keep getting away with it.  I don't follow the "wink-wink industry rules" that exist in artists alley.  I follow my own rules, and in this case I'm siding with copyright law.  I'm siding with Marvel, DC, or any corporation who was the right to protect its interests.  Marvel and DC should love that someone is making this statement, and out of his own free will.

I'm changing my sketch policy because I'm imagining the worst-case scenario, I know.  In my mind, even DC could trace my sketch history of Batman drawings (a lawyer taking a quick look at Comic Art Fans would reveal the evidence), figure out what I might have charged, and take me to court.  Or simply show me the information, threaten a lawsuit, and then get me to agree to lessen my DC page rate in exchange for not getting into trouble.  Silly, I know.  Unlikely, I know.  I make the joke because I know the people at DC who will be reading this, and I know they have senses of humor and would never do that.  But what if in 10 years their replacements read this and say, "Murphy's onto something, we should TOTALLY do that!"  Then I'll be more protected for only drawing my own characters.

Obviously, sketching isn't going to stop.  I know my stance is extreme, and I'm likely standing in a crowd of one.  And I'm not judging people who continue their sketch behavior--some of my friends don't agree with on this as well.  The income generated from commissions helps pay the bills, especially for younger guys just starting out, so keep doing them.  And art blogs like the Twart should keep doing them as well; the stuff always helps generate interest in comics.  I don't want to imagine a convention without Spider-Man sketches, so I hope it doesn't stop.  I just can't bring myself to participate anymore.

I'm going to investigate getting a waiver from DC--maybe I'll find a legal solution to all this.  I'm going into DC next week so maybe I'll find a way to bring it up.

Regarding the debate of whether comic artists should continue selling unauthorized prints/sketches of characters they don't own, I think Bissette and his legal advisor are 100% correct.  So from now on, I won't be doing any sketches or commissions at shows of any character that I don't own.  Am I rolling over in fear of Marvel?  Maybe, but as it states below, they're in their legal right to come after me if there's ever a dispute.  I love to complain about the Big Two, but I can't (in good conscience) get upset at them if I'm breaking the rules myself.  Being DC exclusive, maybe I can get a waiver that allows me to sketch DC characters, so I'll keep you updated.

From Steve Bissette's FB page:

ALERT, ALL COMICS CREATORS: With permission, I'm quoting key points my dear friend and own legal advisor/contract consultant (since 1992) Jean-Marc Lofficier raised on his posts to a Yahoo forum discussing Ty Templeton's cartoon concerning the Gary Friedrich v Marvel judgment. Jean-Marc succinctly notes WHY this judgment has changed EVERYTHING for anyone who has worked for Marvel, or what this judgment changes (probably irrevocably) about the landscape for all concerned:

"...with all due respect to Ty, he's talking (drawing?) out of his ass.

So to clarify again, here is what I thought is important to remember here:

1) This is the first time Marvel is using convention sales of copyrighted Marvel characters as a "weapon". They are of course perfectly entitled to do so, legally speaking. But it does mean that, from now on, all of you here who draw sketches of Marvel characters for money at conventions or sell sketchbooks containing pictures of Marvel characters are on notice that you might be sued (usually for triple the amount you made) should Marvel decide to go after you.

My legal advice to you guys is simple: STOP and destroy all sketchbooks for sale with copyrighted materials in it. I'm serious. You've just been put on notice by this case.

[Note: In a followup comment to a question on the matter of selling sketches/sketchbooks at conventions featuring Marvel characters, Jean-Marc added:]

If Disney and/or Marvel have a policy to deal with that sort of business, I would encourage anyone planning to sell sketches, etc. to contact them and obtain a waiver or a permission of some kind under that program.

Ivan is incorrect about one thing: Disney, if not Marvel, does have a full office staffed with para legals of young lawyers whose only job is to look for copyright/tm infringements and send C&D (cease & desist) letters. I have seen them. They don't do it for the money or to be a pain the the ass, they do it based on the legal theory that if you don't actively protect your (c)/tm, you run the risk of it being used against you as an affirmative defense in an infringement case.

Based on the GHOST RIDER case, it is, in my opinion, only a matter of time until Disney, now aware of the issue, sends one of their young attorneys with a stash of blank C&D letters at conventions and start handing them out to everyone selling Marvel sketches without authorization.

Receiving that letter will oblige you to hire a lawyer and even if Disney lets you off the hook (which they probably will), you might be out of a couple of grands by the time the process is over -- or you run the risk of being stuck with a $15K bill if you fight them.

Again, I emphasize: this is sound business practice for Disney; NOT doing it entails risks far greater than doing it. They have gone after children's nurseries before which had Mickey painted on their walls for the same exact legal reason. And that was far more time consuming and bad PR-wise that going after some comic book guys at artist's alleys.

It is only a matter of time.

So if they have a waiver/permission program as Ivan says, join it; if not, stop.

[Back to Jean-Marc's original, full post:]

2) Although there never was any serious dispute that Marvel owned whatever share of GR Gary Friedrich was claiming (personally, I'm not a mind reader but I think Friedrich was hoping for some kind of settlement), there remains two legal issues that Ty obviously didn't grasp:

2.1) When Moebius drew his SILVER SURFER with Stan Lee, he got royalties and he was still getting them when Starwatcher split in 2000. You will note that modern-day WFH agreements spell out that the money you're getting will be the sole compensation you will ever receive and you're not entitled to anything else. It is spelled out because if it is not, courts are at liberty to interpret the contract and decide whether or not you should be gettong something extra.

The back-of-the-check contract signed by Gary did transfer ownership of GR to Marvel, and the amount of that check was the consideration for publishing rights, but nowhere did it actually state (as it does today) that it was the ONLY consideration to which Gary might be entitled in the event of a film or a TV series. The Court could have easily decided that on the absence of that clause, Gary was owed something.

2.2.) There is a famous case about singer Peggy Lee who won her suit against Disney for their reuse of her songs in LADY & THE TRAMP on video, because that medium didn't exist when she signed her original agreement with the Mouse, and contracts at that time didn't specify the now standard "and other media to be invented in the future". The Court chose to interpret that lack of specificity in favor of Peggy Lee. When Marvel sold the rights to GR to the studio which produced it, they likely sold the video, DVD and game rights. These media did not exist when Friedrich signed his back of the check contract which did not list any and all future media. Therefore, based on the Peggy Lee case, the Court could have found that Marvel didn't own those rights, and therefore couldn't resell them, or, as in the Peggy Lee case, simply that they owe the plaintiff some kind of percentage, that's all.

So it remains my contention that Marvel owes "something" to Friedrich (and Ploog as well) based not on the publishing, but purely on the disposition of the multimedia rights to GR. That the Judge decided otherwise is a tough break for creators, and unjust.

3) Which brings me to my next point, which is that documentary standards are being unfairly applied throughout the judicial system, and somehow mistakes always seem to favor the corporations, not the small guy. The enforceability of a contract depends on accurate documentation which must be produced in Court. If you have a mortgage, but the bank cannot produce your properly signed promissory note, then the court has the possibility of nullifying your mortgage. It's happened in a few rare cases, but more often than not, people have been thrown out of their homes despite banks being unable to produce a properly signed note.

In this case, has any of you seen the back of the check signed by Friedrich?
Was that check properly endorsed? Was there anything crossed out? Why should mistakes in documentation automatically benefit the corporations, and the little guy should be held to standards of evidence that the companies themselves don't respect? Why did the Judge assume that the paperwork was in order & automatically benefited Marvel? What I'm saying is, if people can lose their homes despite proper paperwork, well, then, Marvel could lose GR despite its paperwork. It's up to the Court.

So whether or not you feel any sympathy for Gary and his cause, this is another loss for the Little Guy which, in the greater scheme of things, impacts all of us."

SPREAD THE WORD. SPREAD THIS LINK.

And QUIT doing, creating, selling ANY sketches or sketchbooks or prints featuring Marvel/Disney characters, IMMEDIATELY. And let fans know WHY you are no longer doing them, and/or CANNOT do them ever again.

Just another reminder for those looking for original art: I've changed art dealers.  So from now on you'll be heading to Essentialsequential.com for your Sean Murphy needs.

(insert "Sean Murphy needs" joke here)

But for now, I've pulled all art sales until this summer.  DC hasn't announced it yet, but Punk Rock Jesus will be coming out this summer through Vertigo.  Once it's released, I'm going to start selling 1/2 of my PRJ pages along with all the Hellblazer, Joe the Barbarian and American Vampire I have left.  I'm might be including PRJ prints and/or trading cards with each order.  Or maybe I'll toss in old Off Road art as a surprise.  But we'll see.

ALSO, I'm going to be widening the gap between page prices.  For example, a $200 page will be knocked down to a $100 page, while a $400 page will be knocked up to $500.  This ensures that students and people low on cash can still afford something while the "choice" pages make up for the loss of sales.

I've also decided to finally sell that Batman cover and the Pinup with him and the Batmobile.

I'll announce it a few weeks in advance so people will have a fair shot at getting the page they want.

If you're reading this now, it means you're roughly in the 5%.  Most people who go online to read about comics will end up reading previews and "top 10" lists--subjects we all, or course, enjoy.  But the articles/blogs that critically analyze our industry are usually only read by two types: people in the biz whom are affected by this stuff, and the few readers who are interested in reading more than word balloons when it comes to comics.

And I'm not knocking people who don't care to read these articles.  All readers are contributing to the industry with their buying power, and I'm thankful for them, even if they're not in the 5%.  I admit, if I had a normal 9-5 job and a boss that was kicking my ass 5 days a week, I might not have the tolerance for these sorts of articles either.

That being said, I think we need more of these articles/blogs written from different points of view--more from creators especially.  The 2010s will likely be remembered as the decade when comics largely went digital--it will be a decade defined by technology more than by content.  And I fear we're currently making this transition without having enough of a discussion.  Which is silly because we comic people are a small group of "plugged in," sci-fi loving, future thinkers--there's no reason why everyone (from readers to creators to publishers) can't help steer this ship through a digital decade.  If there's one thing we learned from the Bank of America/Netflix/Arab Spring fiasco, it's that peasants can now rule kings.  And having more participants in this discussion helps steer us away from business-as-usual publishing.

But, "With great power comes with great responsibility."  

In search of finding more contributions to this intellectual conversation, I'm glad to have found examples like the Ron Marz piece for CBR and posts by futurists like Warren Ellis, Augie De Blieck and Christian Sager.  The reason I think that creators need to partake in this discussion more is that the average reader will more likely get involved in the discussion if it's presented by their favorite creator.  If creators don't chime in, then no one will, because CBR and Newsarama don't usually promote this stuff.  And here's why:

Articles dealing with the health and future of comics don't get the same traffic as previews and "top 10" lists (maybe only 5% according to my source).  With less traffic, intellectual articles make less money when it comes to advertising.  Thus, comic websites pay their reporters less to write them, or they decide not to publish anything at all.  Better to pay twice as much for a "top 10" opinion piece or run a Marvel preview article for free.  Better yet, just re-post an intellectual piece written by some creator for free (my "5 Year Plan" was re-posted a few times by these website, only one with permission by my friend Ron Marz).  And I'm not complaining about this--spreading ideas for free is what this intellectual conversation requires.  I'm just pointing out that we can't rely on the news and on reporters to have this discussion for us.  Unless those reporters are willing to work for free on their own blog sites (which some thankfully do).

The other reason why I'd like creators to blog about this discussion more is because their blogs aren't as edited as their interviews might be.  I've been involved with a number of promotional interviews for comic websites, and I was disturbed by how much interference my publishers had in what the article could contain--and it was more than just trying to stop spoilers from being revealed.  Most companies have a PR department of some kind whose job is to control information--that's no surprise to anyone.  If it was up to them, it would always be happy-positive-happy-positive-everyone-is-clapping-at-once advertising.  Frank, intellectual discussions tend to rub these people the wrong way because such a discussion implies something wrong with the status quo.  Which, for them, is negative PR.  I don't blame PR people for doing their jobs, but having the press pressured into some form of conformity is NOT a healthy way for our industry to operate.

I'm aware that my contributions aren't always popular with other creators. Or publishers. Or readers. I imagine the phrase, "I like Murphy's art better than I like Murphy," is a growing meme.  And I accept that. But just realize that my attempt with these blogs isn't to upset people, but to lend my ideas to the larger discussion I'd like us all to be having.  So if you're a creator and you disagree with something I've said, I beg you to write your own response.  A healthy discussion is all about different points of view sharpening their blades against one another.  Many times when I see, or even am involved in disagreements about these topics, it tends to border on the side of,  "you should just shut-up."  That's the worst attitude to have because you're trying to stop the conversation.  If you don't have the stomach for futurist dialog, then opt out and let the conversation continue without you.

Here are small things I think we can all do in order to promote a healthier decade:

READERS: If you have the energy, get involved with the discussion.  At least click on those intellectual articles to give the impression of higher traffic.  And if you can, go to shows because those conventions often become the hub of these discussions (with beer).  It's also a place where comics encounter new technology and media.  The comic biz will not falter because our conventions are too popular.  Only good can come from them.

CREATORS: Speak up with your blogs.  But do your research.  I have these blogs proof read and trouble-shot by other creators before I post them because I want to keep the conversation honest.  Sometimes I'll step over the line, and when I screw up, I try to admit it.  If you're not into writing these things, then maybe you have a reporter friend who's writing an article you support--offer him a quote so he can sell it better to his editor.

PRESS: Websites should continue with previews and "top 10" lists, of course.  If those bring traffic, so be it.  But if it's fair, balanced, and helpful reporting you're after, then you need to get away from  Entertainment Weekly-style journalism and start funding research pieces.  If you do this well, you'll have more to brag about than italicizing the word EXCLUSIVE when a publisher throws you a nugget.

PUBLISHERS: Continue to embrace digital technology and work with sites like Comixology.  We're a small industry and we're technically savvy--my hope is that comic community will invent a healthy digital-marketing model before anyone else.  Our goal is a stable industry where both creators and publishers can make a consistent living; one that welcomes new ideas, recognizes talent and is on the cutting edge of technological trends.  

And by the way, good job on the reboot--I had my doubts but clearly I was wrong.  I think TV spots help.  And I hope you have a plan B for the day when the SS Diamond ends up with the Costa Concordia.

As always, thanks for taking the time to read.

*Because I'll be teaching in about a week at SCAD, I've been thinking a lot about what to tell the students.  And I wrote it out so that I could solidify it in my head.  This stuff is for younger artists mostly, so feel free to skip.

When I spend time with another comic artist, sometimes I'll ask, "What's your 5 year plan?"  In other words, what steps is he taking in order to gain control over his career in order to move up the ladder?   Usually I don't get much of an answer.

The reason I think many comic artists aren't forward-thinking has to do with the way our industry is set up.  Whether by conscious design or through the neglect of its participants, younger freelancers get into a habit of complacency while hoping for a chance to suckle from the teet of a major publisher.  Waiting around for a career doesn't promote the idea of freelancers taking active control of their OWN careers.

If I had to sum up the 5 Year Plan of newer freelancers, it would sound like this: "I'm always working on my craft and trying to get to shows. Maybe I'll put a sketchbook together.  I tweet with a lot of other artists during the day, and I kind of have this story of my own that I'd kind of like to work on someday.  Then again, I also have back-end offers from writers who seem like they know what they're doing.  I don't know yet--mostly I'm just going to hang in there and hope that Marvel or DC will take notice and offer me something good.  Then I'll have a fan base.  I don't know, but I'd like to be the next Jim Lee."

This kind of ho-hum approach drives me crazy.  The sit-around-and-wait-for-opportunity-of-comics has retarded freelancers into submission.  But there are other reasons why I think this happens.

Think about all the stuff you've heard about "comic industry protocol".  You've been told to wait in line at a show in order to get an editor to review your work.  Sometimes they'll even dangle a "last person in line" sign around your neck (a real badge of respect, that one).  Or you heard somewhere that the best way to work for Marvel is to work for DC first.  Or you're told that you have to submit Marvel samples because they don't want to look at Batman samples.  Or maybe they want you to try out on a cover--unpaid, of course.  Or maybe they want to see pencils and inks separately.

As much as we fool ourselves into thinking otherwise, there often IS no protocol.  I did none of these things and still found a way in.  If you want to jump through these hoops then be my guest--I'm sure some people have had success.  But just because you're being shown hurdles doesn't mean you have to jump them.  And just because they mark the line to the front door doesn't mean you can't find a side entrance.  You just need to utilize a talent that you already have: being creative.

Here's my list of suggestions to help evolve your 5 Year Plan:

TALENT
I've heard that there are 3 things found in successful artists, and as long as you have 2 of them you'll be fine: talent, respecting deadlines, and being nice to work with.  I agree with this, but it could use an adjustment: 10% being nice, 10% being on time, 80% talent.  Proof?  If Travis Charest was always late and always an asshole (I hear he's a really nice guy BTW), he'd still get work.  Because his stuff is SO GOOD that it would trump the other two.  My point is that you should always be working and drawing and improving.  It's obvious, I know.  But it can't be stated enough: the backbone to your entire career is your ability.  Your ability creates your demand, and being in demand gives you options.  Options is control.

3 THINGS AT ONCE
You should get more than one project going at a time.  Each project increases your chances of having a hit.  And when work on one project is delayed (happens a lot), you can switch gears and remain more productive.  Suggested side projects?  Work on another book that's your own or co-written by someone you like and trust.  Or plan a sketchbook for the con season.  Or look for video game work.  Or venture into cover design.  Or create a Wolverine alphabet to keep you busy.  Get creative and think out of the box.  3 at once is good, but maybe you can handle more.  And even if most side projects fail, at least you're in control of them.

WRITE
I'm guessing that most people would give most comics a grade C or lower.  Not because we think of comic writing as being inferior to other forms of writing, but pick a group of ANYTHING and most things will be average, or C level.  It's the Law of Averages.  Therefor, you probably buy a couple titles a month that you'd give an A to and a few more that you'd give a B to.  So if most comics are C or lower, why not give writing a stab?  With a little bit of effort, could you write a  C+ story?  Of course you could!  C+ is better than most comics.  We deal in an industry where characters fight crime in their underwear--don't be intimidated into thinking you couldn't put together a half decent script if you tried.  Yes, there are a lot of awesome writers who use the format for ground breaking material that you and I could never achieve.  On the other hand, it's heroes in their underwear--we're not exactly looking for Philip K. Dick here.

Writing isn't just another asset, writers are planners.  Planners deal with tomorrow.  Having one hand in the future means you have more control.

And if writing's not for you, consider yourself in the role of Director/Producer.  Figure out what kind of story you want to tell, and work on it with a writer you trust.  Pitch it to Marvel.  Even if it's material you don't own, at least you're more in control.  Or pitch it to Image and own the rights.  The digital age is an exciting time to be dealing in new content.

BRANDING
I'll use my friend Scott Snyder as an example here (and I'm about to repeat his name a lot).  Scott's first hit was on American Vampire with Stephen King.  Immediately, Scott is labeled as a horror writer because that's what Stephen is.  As Vampire continued without Stephen (it's Scott's book, after all), Scott's branding went from "working with King" to "Scott is a horror writer in his own right".  Aware of his branding, Scott has been careful to select projects that fit his brand.  Swamp Thing, Severed, and Batman are all books with a horror twist.  It's easier for him to get these books because DC and Scott know what Scott's brand is.  His brand is so clear, in fact, that he has to be careful of what he works on in the future.  Skipping around without regard to what books suit him would hurt Scott.  I suppose Scott could write Spider Man one day (Scott can do anything well), and if it ever comes time for him to tackle the web-slinger, I think Scott knows that he has to approach it very carefully because Spidey's not known as a horror book.  Scott isn't doing well because he's lucky--Scott also pays attention.

As artists, we still have a brand.  And even though we all need to pay bills, we shouldn't say yes to everything.  Your brand is built by the titles you produce, the characters you've drawn, the writers you're associated with, the vibe of your art, and by your blogs and tweets.  Figure out what your brand is and use that to dictate your decisions.  Even if you're on a book that's not quite "you", perhaps you can suggest something to the writer to help inject your brand into the story.  I didn't think of Joe the Barbarian as being within my brand, but making it really dark helped me move it closer to my brand.  American Vampire SOTF is totally my brand; PRJ will be the purist form of my brand.

ATTITUDE
Let's tweak a line from JFK: don't ask what you can do for comics, ask what comics can do for you.  Thinking in this way helps build confidence, I find.  Carry this with you whenever dealing with editors and writers.  They're not doing you a favor, you're doing one for them.  You'll spend WAY longer drawing a script than it took the writer to write.  You have more to give and more to lose with these projects, so keep that in mind.  I'm not telling you to be arrogant, just don't act submissive.

CONNECT THE DOTS
Whatever you decide to do with these tidbits, try and mold them into a grand design.  One successful project should segue into the next.  When one project is coming to an end, plan the next.  There is no finish line, because a finish line means you've stopped.

I've spoken as guest speaker a number of times over the years (come visit me at SCAD Atlanta in January).  While I'm not the best or most patient teacher, I think my strength is my pragmatic and blunt approach to the business side of comics.  In order to help the students think of a "5 YEAR PLAN" (more on that in an upcoming post), I'll often break down the different page rate levels of comic book artists as a way to help analyze the playing field of our industry.  If there's a ladder to success, what's wrong with defining each rung?  I imagine such a breakdown helpful for moving up in most any industry, not just comics.

Here are the 5 LEVELS of comic artists as I see them--NOT based on talent but on page rates, popularity, and the prestige of the titles the artist works on.  You might define them differently or have more than just 5, but I find that less-is-more when it comes to people being able to retain information.

LEVEL 1
I'm guessing that only 1% of artists fit into this category.  These are the marquee players in comics--they get the top page rates, they have the biggest sales, and they're put on larger "event" titles advertised most heavily by the big two.  These guys also have more say over the projects they choose and are more aware of future projects (sometimes) years in advance so the company can plan whom-will-get-what-book early on.  Many of these guys even have representation to help them with contracts and with their back-end bonuses.  While most artists might dream of Level 1 status, there's also a lot of politics at this level that most artists aren't aware of.  Which is why I think Level 1 success is a bit of a double -edged sword.  Companies will label you with your probable sales.  And if your numbers aren't high enough, you might not get onto the book you want.  And it has nothing to do with how well you draw.

LEVEL 2
While not as well paid or popular as Level 1 artists, these artists are consistently fed with work throughout the year (many of them are under contract) and manage to carve out a comfortable salary (assuming they can stay away from drug addiction or bad financial planning).  Most of the books they work on are mainstream Marvel/DC staples that most people are aware of.  But you can also find a few of these guys on large Dark Horse and creator owned Image books.  I think that there are a few "artist's artists" in this category whose cult following has brought them very high up, but their distinct style of drawing often excludes them from larger "event" books.  Some Level 2 artists are happy to stay at this level because they have no interest in being a marquee player.  Some were marquee players but decided to drop down to Level 2 in exchange for more control over their careers.

LEVEL 3
These artists are mostly found at smaller publishers, although many of them are grateful for the rare Marvel/DC offer.  I don't imagine most of these guys having consistent work, but rather putting out a few issues a year and coasting toward the next gig on whatever money they saved.  Some of them do have consistent work, but it's mostly on titles that pay leaner rates.  Whenever I hear about someone "paying their due" I imagine them stuck at Level 3.  Too much time in Level 3 can often leave you jaded and bitter, because barely paying your bills SUCKS when you're working your ass off.  I speak from experience on this one.

LEVEL 4
These are often the students who are running the convention circuit while trying to get that first gig.  They're hungry enough where they'll take anything--even if it only pays on the back-end.  Many of these guys get burned by publishers or private individuals who promise them a rate.  Level 4 artists usually have a daytime job and draw comics at night.  Or they still live with mom.  It's a rough life, but at this early stage the artist still has his optimism intact, making it a bit easier to trudge forward.  Fair warning: getting that "first gig" does not guarantee you will advance to Level 3.

LEVEL X
A Level X artist is out to do his own thing once he's had some form of success.  What makes these guys different is that they have no interest in doing mainstream comics.  Many of them are indy artists while many of them have an illustration career and dabble in comics from time to time.  Some of them will do a mainstream "event" book, but it's usually only for a limited run.  I think most "artist's artists" are in this category because having a Level X mindset frees you from conforming to the normal comic book styles.  You're more likely to find Level X art inside an "art book" and not within a comic.  Or maybe they just do covers.

Again, this isn't based on an artist's ability.  And it's not meant to judge working comic artists in a mean way (I stopped myself from naming examples in each category).  Most artists work their way up from Level 4 while others seem to appear suddenly at Level 2.  Most artists probably fit into more than one level.  Obviously the nuances of different careers defies the idea of such classification, but I still argue that it's helpful from a student standpoint.  Or from any standpoint where you're looking to move up.

Later on I'll post more about the "5 Year Plan"

Want original art but can't afford it?  Here are the things I'd be willing to trade artwork for.

1. One night assisting astronomers in a huge space telescope.  Looking for new planets, finding aliens, whatever.

2. A ride in a 1970s De Tomaso Pantera.  I'd take a Maserati Bora as well.

3. Original art from Sergio Toppi, Jorge Zaffino, or Bill Watterson.

4. Scuba diving in a cave.  I don't have a license yet, so that should be included.

5. A ride in a WWII B-25.

6. An hour with Henry Rollins.

7. Dinner with Neil DeGrasse Tyson.

8. A "behind the scenes" tour at the Museum of Nat History in NYC.

Some of these things I suppose I could find myself, but I know I'll never get around to it.

*Sean Murphy reserves the right to refuse any of the above offers that come to him.  This blog post is in no way a contractual obligation to agree to any of the above trades.  However, if you can make one of these happen and you're not a weirdo, we can talk.

Lately I've been doing work for DC Direct--the wing of DC in charge of statues, toys, etc.  It's been a nice break from PRJ.  The money is good, and it hasn't been soulless like I imagined.  Corporate gigs can go either way--sometimes they want you to do exactly what "they" want, other times they want you to do your thing unencumbered.  Luckily this was the latter.

The rates for toy designs are broken down into three parts: you get paid for the sketches, the final pencils and the inks.  For this gig, the inking rate was higher than my normal inking rate.  It felt good, but then I realized that 25% of my fee was for inks.  And it raised an unsettled concern that's been on my mind.

How long will inkers be needed?

In the old days they needed inkers because computers weren't yet being used in print.  I forget the name of the machine that preceded the scanner (process cameras?), but it was low-tech enough that inking was REQUIRED because the pencil lines weren't dark enough to pick up.  A side effect of this lumbering technology was that it created "inking" as an art form exclusive to print and to comics.

Imagine you're an artist working for Ben Franklin at one of his printing presses.  Ben loves your comic strip ideas and wants to publish it.  But there's a problem: scanners haven't been invented yet so your pencils won't translate.  He hands you a pen and brush and a bottle of ink and tells you to go over your pencils to make it darker.  You frown--your pencils have nice shades of gray that ink will ruin!  Surely Ben will understand that.  "Too bad!" he says while staring at some chicks walking past the window, "Take this ink and find a way to make it work.  Or you're fired."  And off he goes to get laid.

Demands like this are what gave birth to hatching, cross hatching, feathering, and other tricks to give the impression of "gray" even though there's only black and white.  Before Ben Franklin, it was the lithograph invented by some Bavarian guy in the late 1700s.  Before him, it might have been the Greeks using stone blocks or something.  Whatever the history, we have to acknowledge that it was the shortcoming of technology that gave birth to modern inking.

After Ben helped improve the mass production of newspapers, comic strips came of age.  Then comic books, then the golden age and silver age.  Then the "fat lady" Art Crumb underground age.  Then Watchmen, then Frank Miller, then the Photoshop age of comics was boosted by Image.

The 90s is when many publishers switched over to scanners and modern printing technology.  While it helped give birth to better coloring via Photoshop, it also helped make inking obsolete.  But inking survived because it was part of the identity of comic books.  Many people working in publishing still had a soft spot for the writer/penciller/INKER/colorist/letterer dynamic.  We had the technology to print pencils and colors without needed it inked, but it wasn't enough to kill off inking.  Would readers even buy books that  were just pencils?  Thus, Marvel and DC continued including inking rates.

With Wacoms and Cintiques coming of age, traditional inking is completely unnecessary.  We no longer need comics to have that "comic book style" because readers have adapted to variety of styles that Cintiques easily create.  And if it's an old fashion "comic book style" you want, Cintiques can do that too!

Obviously, most of comics is now digital.  I write to my editors digitally--phone calls aren't needed anymore.  Even though I create my art traditionally, it's scanned into digital files which is exactly where digitally created artwork ends up--there IS no distinction at the end of the day.  Comics are colored and lettered digitally, the graphics are added digitally.  The printers are digital.  And if we could find a way to automate the writing and artwork at a lower cost, you'd better believe it would happen.  Cost of iArtist (the computer program designed to create art based off the script create by iWriter)--a one time fee of $500.  Cost of hiring Sean Murphy for one 22 page issue--$10,000.

So there I am, cashing my paycheck from DC.  My inking rate still included.  But for how long?  In a few years, I wouldn't be surprised if the publishers cut out inking rates altogether in order to save money.  You can still ink if you want to, they just won't pay for it.

Like I've said before, I'm an art snob.  I like creating art the old fashioned way, and I enjoy other people's art more if I know it actually exists and isn't just on a computer somewhere.  But my values don't stop me from acknowledging what's happening around me.  I can clearly see that inking is technically obsolete.  But there will always be purists who can carve out a living.  Records are obsolete, yet there are still record shops for the music snobs.

I imagine that even if Marvel and DC stop their inking rates, the most in-demand artists could still get what they want if they fought for it.  If Bachalo wants Townsend to ink his Xmen, he'll get his way.  And if I prove myself valuable to DC, I'll still get my rates as well.  If they cut my inking rate, I'll just up my pencilling rate by the same amount.

Hey all!  I've gotten a few people asking me about advice for drawing backgrounds.  So instead of being a true gentleman and writing each person back separately, I figure it's easier to tackle this with an nice, impersonal journal post!  Maybe one day I'll shoot a tutorial or something to actually demonstrate what I'm talking about, but for now a quick list will have to do.

*Before I start, a quick disclaimer—by no means do I have "it" figured out.  My opinions on backgrounds and how to tackle them are always changing.  And a lot of what I think is based on the artists on whose shoulders I stand upon.  Feel free to disagree with any of this.

POINT-AND-CLICK
Remember those point-and-click adventure games from the 90s?  I loved those games!  Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis, Flashback, Full Throttle, Space Quest, Hero Quest—adventure games blew me away by how beautiful, imaginative and expansive the background designs were.  The point of the designs was to trigger your imagination and give your eyes something to do, because you usually ended up returning to the screen-shots to find missing keys and other things you needed to complete the game.  And that's what I advise for background drawing in comics: design it in a way where readers will enjoy coming back.  DO NOT just draw backgrounds to get them over with.

PLAN
Do not draw backgrounds as an afterthought.  Plan the designs as carefully as you plan drawing the characters.  The two exist within the same panel and should be planned accordingly.

SELECTIVE RENDERING
I admire the shit out of artists who thoroughly render ever square inch of a background.  But I know that I'm not that artist—I prefer to render around the focus of the panel, and then let the detail fade away as you move to the less important parts of the panel.  This helps the reader "scope in" on what they should be looking at as you attempt to control their eye.  This will also help save your energy.  And it saves the reader's energy—looking at awesome backgrounds is great but also exhausting.  Do yourselves a favor and keep it in your pants until you need it.

ADD SPECIFICS
Don't draw generic objects, draw specific ones that appropriately fit the characters' environments.  A plain, wooden chair might get the job done, but those chairs are boring.  By drawing a specific chair—like a creaky, green office chair from the 60s—you're more likely to trigger your reader.  You want him to go, "I KNOW that chair!"  You should be presenting objects that invest the reader.

*Also, try and stay away from EVER having to draw a generic chair.  I know—a lot of middle income people live in generic homes and have generic chairs.  But no reader wants to spend time in those generic settings.  Better to make that chair more specific even if the script isn't calling for it—go for a beat up chair or a slightly nicer one with a stiff, high back.  We're going for "hyper" objects, not boring and nondescript ones.

DIMENSIONALITY
Try and add things like bridges, doors, catwalks, ladders, ramps, and anything else that characters can climb on.  Even if the characters don't use them, seeing that those characters COULD use them makes backgrounds more interesting because they're offering the characters AND the readers something to be explored.  What's more interesting: a plain room or a room with a spiral staircase leading off panel?  What's more interesting: a river or a river with a hug log over it—one that you can walk across to reach the other side?  Even if you're drawing a dump truck, draw one with a ladder going up the side.  I love shit like that.
  
PERSPECTIVE
There's no way around it.  My advice is to pick up a book called "Perspective! for Comic Book Artists" by David Chelsea.  I had a professor in college who used to illustrate for NASA and he challenged us with a perspective problem that he was never able to figure out.  I showed him the answer after class and got an automatic "A" for the semester.  He asked me where I learned it, and I told him about that book.  BAM.

CREATIVE SOLUTIONS
If you don't like drawing backgrounds, then you need to find a way to approach them where you DO enjoy drawing them.  If you're not interested in your art then it will show.  From what I understand, Mike Mignola isn't a fan of drawing perspective, but he found a way to approach backgrounds without having to do a whole lot of measuring.  And he's a master—his settings are beautiful and have that "point-and-click" aspect that I love.  DO NOT steal from Mike—find your own way of doing things.  The goal is for readers to instantly recognize your work by your distinct way of imagining your backgrounds.

ONLY WHAT'S NECESSARY
If you don't need a background, don't draw one.  Zoom in on a face instead.  Better to have NO background than a crappy one that you don't need.  Or if you find yourself out of energy at the end of the day, re-imagine your panel and find a way to cover up the fact that your tired.  Let your design senses work for you.

GIVE ME A BREAK
If you've kick the ass out of a bunch of backgrounds in the previous 3 pages—give me a page with some space to breath.  Either use minimal background or none at all.  I try to have at least ONE background per page, but there's no need to overwhelm your reader by slamming him over and over with page after page of amazing backgrounds.  We want to show the reader that we know what we're doing, and then we're not afraid to draw backgrounds.  Once he gets the idea, give him a break.

SHOW THE SET
I feel like artists should nail at least 5 "wow" backgrounds per book.  These are the backgrounds that make people stop reading and that help to set the stage (especially if it's a new setting).  They also help with storytelling be adding clarity.  By drawing the "wow" background sooner in the scene, you'll also be working out the logistical problems in your own mind.  Then it'll be easier to use smart short-cuts later in the scene.

RESEARCH
Artists in the past used to work in studios and have a shared catalog of organized magazine clippings.  We've got the luxury of Google and Flickr.  In other words, there is NO excuse for not researching.  If you truly want to earn the respect of the artists of the past, then you'll put your time in.  If you're not the type to research a page THE DAY you're drawing it, then research an entire issue on a Saturday.

THE SIMS
You know that game The Sims where you control your character's world?  And every time they see something they like, a green PLUS sign appears over their head?  And every time something bad happens, a red MINUS sign appears over their heads?  That's your reader.  The more you trigger him with good things, the more invested he is in your story.  The more thoughtless you are with your background choices, the more likely year reader will have a MINUS sign over his head.  I recommend flipping through your page layouts before getting started.  Make sure there's an even smattering of green PLUS sign material in your pages.

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Hope that helps.  Other things to look up if you're interested: the rule of thirds, the golden spiral (or rectangle), and the 75/25 rule (here's a [link] you need to go 5 minutes in to see it) .

If a printed comic book is like a movie, then "original art" is the behind-the-scenes feature on the DVD.  I love great comic art—sometimes I love it so much that I want to see the original art so I can better understand how the artist arrived at the final product!  And because I'm trained in art and do this stuff for a living, I'm probably a better "archeologist" of original art than someone who's just a reader.

Usage of the word "archeologist" might seem a bit grandiose, so let me explain why I chose it.

Recently I saw a special on National Geographic about Egyptian tomb robbers.  Nat Geo gathered a room full of different experts to inspect how tomb robbers stole treasure from one of the great pharaohs; included were an Egyptologist, a geologist, and a cop who was familiar with modern day heisting.  The entire 60 minutes were spent using their expertise to figure out the likely number of tomb robbers, the tools they used, the resources they needed, the timing of the heist, and (most interestingly) the types of personalities found in each of these men.  There was a lot of guessing, but also a lot of science used to explore the tomb robbers' story.

Most interesting to me was the relationship that evolved between the modern day experts and the robbers (now dead for 2000 years).  Obviously it's a one-way relationship, but I think it's interesting how they came to "know" the artisans just by viewing their work.

Original comic art is the same way for me.  As great as printed comic art is, the originals tell me so much more.  Especially when the art is pencilled and inked by the same person, and especially when the original inks aren't perfectly black (they're usually dark grey because ink isn't perfect). And grey inks are a window into the lines beneath—a window into the artist's process.

This is what I get from printed art in comics: I'm seeing PACKAGED art—the final product after scanning and adjusting in Photoshop.  The inks are no longer grey; the "windows" boarded-over.  Not only that, but the colors can have a HUGE impact on my impression of the page.  And the word balloons aren't always in the best spots.  And because of Photoshop, blur filters and other tricks are often impeding my ability to see the inks.  Don't get me wrong—I still love looking at comics.  But I'm looking at a group effort and not at the individual artist.

Here are the DVD extras I get from originals: pencils, erased pencils, ink corrections, things that were inked before the artist decided to ink over it, measuring lines, art "patches", notes to the inker, notes to the colorist, notes to the editor, coffee stains, finger prints, phone numbers, creases, size of art, kind of paper, kind(s) of ink, things written/drawn on the back of the page, handwriting, dates, labels, signatures, sweat, smudges, and evidence of other tools.

Original art reminds us that, at some point, some artist sat down and created the artwork by hand.  Humans are nuts over the "hand crafted-ness" of an object.  When we see a nice pot, we say "nice pot", but when we find out that the pot was hand made, we give it extra points.  Why?  Because the pot is so perfect and intricate, how the hell did someone make that BY HAND?!  So we have to pick it up and see for ourselves!

Another example: you're in the doctor's office and you look up at his diploma on the wall.  Diplomas are designed to look great, and they usually do.  But when you look closer at it, you find out that the calligraphy isn't quite perfect.  And that's when it hits you: this diploma was done by hand!  Way more impressive than a printed diploma—the college he attended went the extra mile and issued hand crafted diplomas!  It's more impressive because we value "hand crafted-ness".

And this is my beef with digital inking.  Usually I can spot digital inks in printed comics—but with advancing computer software, it's getting harder.  Once in a while I'll see printed art that I love.  And because I want to see the DVD extras, I'll seek out the original.  And I'm always hugely disappointed when I find out that the art was done digitally.  I feel like I've been fooled.  But then again, I'm a snob.

For the most part, I'm all for digital art for certain jobs.  It makes perfect sense if you're a concept artists and you need to make tons of changes dictation by some committee.  But comics are so simple that I don't feel it's justified.  

Still, to some degree, I can see why there are more and more digital inkers.  You can be just as successful with digital art than by being a snob and having originals.  And if no one can tell the difference with the final product, then who cares?  Plus digital inking allows you to CONTROL-Z which gives you infinite chances to get an image right.  Some feel it's faster, some feel it allows more control.  Some claim that learning a digital program takes just as much effort as learning a brush.  And maybe that's all true.

But at the end of the day, most people would rather have an original piece of art to hold.  The more complicated the tools, the less "hand crafted-ness" involved, and the less impressive it will be.  An original piece of art comes out of a studio with ink on the floor and sweat on the chair.  Digital art comes out of a cubical.

But here's the knock-down argument for having original art: sales.

I make over $10,000 a year selling originals.  If I work for 50 years, then I've made over $500,000.  Or how about this: I will pay you $500,000 to use classical tools instead of digital ones.  Isn't a few months struggling with a brush worth $500,000 over a lifetime?  Some guys make more than me—some less.  But even if you sold 1/5 the originals I did, you'd still be getting $100,000 to use a brush. Not only that, you get total street-cred from guys like me who pick up your original art and go "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THIS BY HAND!"

But here's my favorite argument, and it involves Jorge Zaffino.

Zaffino is one of my favorites—and MAN are his inks grey.  I'm lucky enough to own 3 pages of original art.  And because he died in 2004, you can probably guess that they didn't come cheap.  A few years ago, I assumed that I'd never own one, but they've been easier to find once more people in the comic biz knew my name.  I talk about Zaffino enough that people who own original art by him often seek ME out—which is nice because I don't have to do any leg work.  And because these collectors like Zaffino and Murphy art, they're sometimes willing to trade.

I'm really upset that Zaffino is dead.  I mean really, really, REALLY upset.  I get drunk sometimes and mourn the less of someone I feel very close to—close because I've studied his art so much.  Never will there be a new interview with him.  Never will I be able to meet him and bug him with a million questions.  The chances to know him better have been completely taken away—the only clues left are hidden within the lines of his original art.  And that's where I start to feel a little better—knowledge of the fact that I know him like only a few others know him: through his originals.

None of that would be possible if Zaffino worked digitally.  He would have robbed me of knowing him better.  So what kind of artist do you want to be thought of after you're dead?  Do you want people to know you better through your art, labeling you "old school" with your gray-inked-hand-crafted-originals?  Or would you rather product digital files instead of artifacts?

-Black Chris, Australian Rob, my girlfriend Colleen and I hit the road.  We bring our dog Bebop because chihuahuas are easy to pack.

-The first sign of being in the South is when we stop for gas—they're selling decorative Nazi knives at the counter.  The guy working there assumes I'm a fellow White Supremacist and gives me a nod.  His relationship with me is ruined when Black Chris walks in.  I guess the idea of a multiracial road trip doesn't make sense in Virginia.

-After dropping Colleen off with her family, Rob and I ask Black Chris if he likes White Zombie.  He asks if White Zombie is a cover band for Rob Zombie.  If we weren't in the South, Rob and I would have left him by the road.  Instead, we sentence him to the back seat while we blast Astro Creep 2000 all the way to the convention.

-We meet Shawn Crystal at the show, one of my oldest comic book friends and teacher at SCAD Atlanta.  The four of us crash in the same room.  Shawn and I share the bed.  We sleep head-to-toe so it doesn't count.

-The Westin bar is expensive so we brought our own booze and kept returning to the room for refills.  There's no punchline here—I just think everyone should know how smart we are in our ability to screw over hotel chains.

-Rob, Black Chris and I head out for a 3am dinner.  We keep asking the waitress to give Chris a side order of dicks. She laughs but fails to produce the dicks.  Then we order Black Chris a larger plate of Black dicks.  More laughter.  We give her a great tip for putting up with us.

-We meet our other friend Chris Dibari.  In the last post I talked about him as "the other Chris" and called him a Wop.  Dibari tells me that I misspelled Wop as "Whap".  We laugh our balls off at how dumb I am for not knowing how to spell Wop.  For the rest of the weekend I call him Whap.  

-I refrain from telling Whap (a huge metal head) about Black Chris not knowing who White Zombie is—better to save that one for later.

-I run into Mark Brooks at the art auction.  Mark's a great guy and I look forward to talking to him whenever I see him at shows.  He was wearing a hot pink smoker's jacket for the auction—anyone who sells over a certain amount of money wears one.  I was about to comment on it, but then realized that Mark pulls it off well (like Tyler Durden in Fight Club with the robe).  Next time I'll make sure to grab Mark for some drinks and pick his ear a bit about surviving in the industry.

-Someone grabs my nipples from behind.  I turn around to see Tim Townsend.  Tim is like 6' 12" and 250 pounds of muscle.  Dan Panosian (also ripped) is with him and both of these guys look like bouncers.  I'm glad they're my friends even if it means a nipple twist every now and then.  I feel bad if someone outside the club ever tries to get in on their nipple twisting.

-I meet 4 students who went to SCAD Atlanta because of my rant on SCAD Savannah.  At $40,000 a year for tuition, I figure that I cost Savannah $160,000 with that rant.  Too bad it's meaningless because it all goes to the same SCAD corporation.  

-Chrissie Zullo and her mom stop by and chat at the show.  Chrissie approves of my ability to draw women.  That makes me feel more secure with the Vampire art because Chrissie draws girls very well.

-Jason Latour and I get into a 45 minute confrontation about my post "The Bullshit Meter" from a few months ago.  We agree to disagree and meet the next morning to smooth everything over.  I did my best to turn him into a friend, but who knows.

-Rob, Black Chris and I head out to dinner with Ryan Sook and John Arcudi.  I only met Arcudi recently, but I feel like I've known him forever (check out BPRD).  Sook is an artist whom I've never met, although I know his stuff VERY WELL because it's gorgeous.  At one point during dinner, I admit to not "getting" artist X's stuff.  Sook knows artist X and, within 5 minutes, turns my opinion around.  Not only is Sook a great artist, but a hell of a conversationalist.

-Black Chris and Australian Rob are somewhat known via these blog posts.  A few SCAD students light up when they finally get to meet my friends.

-I do around 14 commissions for people.  75% of them look good, but the rest look rushed to me.  But the buyers don't seem to care.  I wish they all came out good but what can you do.

-Over the weekend, two people tell me that I look like Christian Bale.  I'll have to memorize his Terminator rant.

-Tommy Lee Edwards and I swap art.  He tells me about his original Bernie Fuchs and Bob Peak art.  Damn am I jealous.

-Tommy also shows me a cover he digitally inked.  I totally can't tell that it's digital.  He seems to prefer doing it old school, but the deadline was tight so he made an exception.  I hope Tommy doesn't turn into a "Guitar Hero inker" like so many others.  But I doubt he will—his appreciation for original pieces of art is pretty solid.

-I see Eric Canete in the hotel gym.  I debate running over and spotting him without warning.  But he's only using a medicine ball for sit ups—not much need to spot there.  I could put my hand on his stomach, but that would just look odd.

-I see Eric later and wink at him in passing.  Apparently it was a good wink, because he brings it up later.  He doesn't feel like he can wink well, so I keep winking at him for the rest of the weekend to rub it in his face.

-I make a lot of sexist jokes at Becky Cloonan.  It's my way of kidding around, but some people don't always get it.  It's unclear what Cloonan is making of it.  Finally I realize that she's had a few drinks so I decide to leave her alone.  I find her table the next morning to repeat all my uncomfortable, sexist jokes.  I look at her face to gauge her—still nothing.  I'm guessing that Cloonan thinks I'm an asshole.