In recent days, the idea of what comic conventions are really all about has been under much discussion on the comics internet in the wake of a blog by Denise Dorman about the increasingly financially unviable experiences her husband (artist Dave Dorman) has had. While much of the discussion has centered around some of the more specific takeaways people have had from the piece – namely the idea that modern con culture’s emphasis on cosplaying has impacted the ability for folks like Dorman to make money at these events – there is a very real question at the heart of what she wrote about. For creators, have conventions jumped the shark?
That answer is complicated.
We’ve been to many cons and seen the success (or lack thereof) creators have at these events, but really, it’s often not about the conventions whatsoever. It’s about the creators and the choices they make in finding success, or even in how they define success, as there’s no simple, one size fits all answer about comic conventions. Every creator has different experiences at different cons than one another, let alone actual goals for the show itself, and while one may not achieve one form of success at a certain event, that doesn’t preclude someone else from finding it there.
But how do they do it? How does one creator go to an event and leave satisfied with their experience while so many others struggle to make them worthwhile? That’s something we can’t answer directly without some inherent speculation on our part, but we have some friends who can.
So we reached out to those who know best – the creators – and asked a few of them a simple yet complex question: what do you find to be the biggest key to making your con experience a successful one? Our hopes are that those who are struggling to achieve success at today’s comic conventions can learn from those who have found it, at least in terms of defining success for themselves, and maybe find something to help them improve their future con experiences in the process.
If you’re a creator, feel free to share in the comments what has helped you find success at cons. If you’re just a fan, share what stands out to you at cons, and what makes you spend your money. If you’re either, hopefully you can take something away from the insight these folks have into the subject, and thanks to all of them for chatting with us.
Leila Del Duca (Shutter)
Make a great product (which is easier said than done). The people I’ve observed who do best at cons have visually appealing and/or mentally engaging stories. Second most-important is that these people have the customer service skills to engage their fans in a positive way that make them want to support the work they do. When my art wasn’t as developed and my stories weren’t that great, I didn’t make anything at cons. Now that my skills are better and I have an awesome writer behind the work I do, I’m getting enough attention to sell what I have, whereas before my work wasn’t interesting enough to snag the eye of buyers. Granted, having a major publisher promoting my comic helps significantly, it doesn’t matter as much as just offering an excellent product and being a cool person about it.
Joe Keatinge (Shutter, Tech Jacket)
Treating people like people and not cash machines you’re entitled to reap the rewards of because you set up a table. From my perspective going to shows isn’t about supplementing my income with book sales, but rather meeting people whether they’re readers, creators, retailers and so on who are passionate about the art form we’re all engaged in. I’d rather go to a con where I make little money, but meet a lot of people with a love of comics that may later be turned on to my work and get me charged up to working on what’s an otherwise isolated pursuit. I’ve become very selective about which shows I do and how often I do them to keep this a viable way to approach conventions.
Continued belowAnd yes, this includes cosplayers. It should include everybody who walks into the door of a con. This notion of “costumes don’t have pockets” is gross and disturbing. To look through things with a cold financial lens, Leila and I just did Rose City Comic Con and it was by far the most profitable show monetarily that I’ve done in a long time. And guess what? A lot of people who purchased titles from us were cosplayers. My only issue with cosplaying isn’t on them, but I do have concerns with stopping in crowded aisles to take pictures as it’s a safety/fire marshall issue, but that should be on cons to provide a designated place for photos.
The recent controversy seems to be more of a case of creators who are having difficultly growing with the times and adjusting their economic models to the changing convention scenes and reevaluating how they view attendees. You’ve got to evolve or die, be mindful of the world that is and the one that’s coming — conventions are becoming a more diverse social event, more akin to the way they were initially yet with a wider view on fandom. If you want to remain relevant, you’ve got to adapt.
Well, it really depends on the type of show and your definition of success. Which sounds weird, but it’s true. After over a decade of cons, I’ve found that I tend to only have two types of shows: Sales Shows and People Shows.
Big shows like SDCC and NYCC are what I’d call Sales shows. They’re big sales shows that tend to be too big, chaotic and nonstop to really connect with folks in a casual way, which is tough for me, because I always like taking time to hang out with fans and industry friends. Pros are usually swamped with readers, bouncing around all weekend between signings, panels and meetings. But the upside is that, if you bring the right merch, and lots of it, creators can walk away with a large payday.
Shows like the original Image Expo and a lotta smaller shows are what I’d call People shows. There are shows where sales may not be outstanding, but the big upside is that there’s a ton of time to spend with fans and other creators. And that’s always super-rewarding. For example, I just did a show two months ago that I would call a People show. I sold a decent amount of product, but nothing earth-shattering. The true win of the show was getting to spend an entire weekend with pros like Phil Hester, Chip Zdarsky, Ryan Stegman, Mike Norton and a ton of other creators. So, in its own way, it was a success.
In the end, I think the key to a successful show, regardless of how big or small it is, is knowing the show and knowing the audience who will be attending the show. If you know what you’re getting into, you’ll be able to adjust accordingly. Adjust your inventory in proportion to who and how many will be attending. This will help you plan realistically, automatically upping the chance of having a more successful show by decreasing the chance of being caught off-guard with a show that’s the opposite of what you expected.
Other than that, the simple key to having a positive con experience is just not being a butthole. If you’re working a table at a con, you’re there to engage the people that came to see you. So stay grateful, stay humble and be kind to whoever you come across, no matter how weird they may be. It’s comics, after all.
Sina Grace (Li’l Depressed Boy, Penny Dora and the Wishing Box)
As someone who spent a minute selling designer handbags at the height of our recent economic drought, I find that you’ve got to be quick to adapt when the retail game shifts. The convention floors are now littered with people who want a new experience, and they have zero clue that you were That Guy on That Book. Throwing ego out the door and trying to make new friends is usually the attitude I have when it’s a good “money” convention. It doesn’t hurt to have something familiar on the table- a print of whatever’s en vogue- to bring curious folks to your table. With any luck, you’ve grown your brand and made some new friends along the way.
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There’s a lot to factor in for a convention to be a successful one, but yes, the financial aspect is a big, if not the biggest one. I do a fair amount of cons throughout the year, with my main ‘season’ running from Feb-July. During that time, I’m gone almost every other weekend. I usually only do a few shows in the fall, so that time’s not as intense. All that time away is time I’m missing actually making comics and games and spending time with my family. So yeah, the monetary aspects of these shows is always a concern. I tend to do shows where most aspects are comped. If a show won’t comp anything, then I honestly can’t really afford to do it. Traveling is expensive, and to cut costs, you often have to share rooms with other creators. I cover a lot of the rest by doing preordered commissions, and then sketches at the show. Book sales come in second, and I’ve always found that trades do better than single issues, so the point where I don’t really bother bringing singles anymore. Morning Glories has been out since 2010, and the first trade since 2011, but that first trade is always the first one to sell out, no matter how much extra I order for subsequent shows. Also, I’ve found that prints are becoming fast sellers at shows. I’m finding a strong desire from con goers for merchandise–buttons, shirts, hats. I’d like to jump on that bandwagon.
The TL;DR version of this answer is that turning a profit is the biggest key to calling a convention experience a successful one. There are other aspects–networking, socializing with your readers, exploring new territory–but that one’s the main one.
Frank Barbiere (Five Ghosts)
I’ve been tabling for a few years, before I even had any published work, and I think the most important part of presenting at a show or convention is having realistic expectations. Clearly my perspective is a bit different from that of an established artist, but for me it’s always been about bringing a positive presence and having fun—people are drawn to those they see who are smiling, involved, and engaging. Shows have been about being a part of the community for me, not making money, and they’ve helped me make a lot of friends in the industry as well as slowly expose my work to new people.
From a sales perspective? I think we all have to deal with the realization that selling ANYTHING in today’s climate is extraordinarily difficult. Fans have so many different outlets for content that to expect people to come out in droves to buy art prints or single issues is totally unrealistic. I have never been able to sell floppy comic issues, with a few rare exceptions, and it has nothing to do with lack of interest—it’s just not what the market is after. Trades move pretty well, but I still feel like it’s all about engaging your audience and knowing that “popularity” can be fleeting. There are some creators who will draw tons of fans to their table, but next year?…it could be you.
Natalie Nourigat (Tally Marks, Between Gears)
For me, conventions have merits outside of money that need to be considered. One is exposure. The word gets thrown around too much, but exposure does matter. If one or two people happen to stop at my table, and we have a good conversation and they turn into new long-term readers of mine, that’s a big deal for my business.
Continued belowAnother merit is networking. Especially when I do a show on the east coast or far from home, I’m trying to meet artists/writers/editors who live there that I would never bump into in Portland. Conventions throw us all into the same room, and once in a while there’s an opportunity to make a good connection. It’s hard to quantify the results of networking, but I think it’s significant.
The last merit to conventions outside of money is pleasure. I work in an industry where, most of the time, I’m not in the same room as the people who buy my product. I don’t know what their reaction is except for the occasional e-mail or FB/Tumblr comment. So tabling at a convention, and having readers come up and tell me face-to-face that they liked my last book, that’s really, really nice for me.
I also love being there for people who are at their first convention, or who are parents of kids who read comics looking for recommendations, and being able to point them in the direction of something they’ll like. Team Comics needs recruiters, and I feel like I can help bring new readers into the fold just by being friendly and talking with people. I think that’s a good use of my time at conventions. I bring quarter-sheet print-outs of my all-ages comic recommendations to give to people when I’m too swamped to list them, and I’ve been really glad to have that tool ready.
Ryan Ferrier (D4VE, Tiger Lawyer)
The answer to “what make a successful con” varies from person to person and con to con, for that matter. Each con is its own different beast, with different opportunities. I think it’s important to outline your own personal goals before setting foot on the floor, obviously, but it all comes down to, at least for me, being reasonable with your expectations. You’re far more likely to feel good about a show if you have one clear goal in mind, as opposed to dreams of a handful of career-booming connections. Stick to one. For me, it’s often something as simple as “connect with Editor X” or “meet Artist Y who’s work I’ve loved for years.” I’ve literally done shows where the only goal kicking in my head was to talk to a specific artist–not even about working together, but just to meet them and chat. I would rather feel part of an industry and community, than constantly feel like I’m always struggling to swim upstream to fit in. Something as simple as being cucumber-cool (rat least looking like you’re trying to be) can take the edge of the knife of pressure, so to speak. I’ve found that the great connections–ones that could potentially bring work–can come when you least expect it, just by being personable and genuine. If making money is your goal, then stick to that–get at that table and hustle, there’s nothing wrong with that at all. But if you’re going to a show with a pile of books hoping to move them and pay for the trip, AND connect with every editor and land gigs, AND pitch a mini on the show floor, it’s probably going to be a disappointing show. In fact, don’t pitch on the floor, at least not cold. Keep your goals simple and reasonable, and try to relax and enjoy yourself and the wonderful comics community.
The situation is different for me, because I’m (a) based in the UK, and (b) a writer. Which means I don’t “table” at US cons, as a rule. The expense and hassle of getting stock over to the con — not to mention the customs and tax hassle involved in actually selling them — means it’s just not worth it to me. And I can’t make money doing commissions, or sketches.
I go to cons with the expectation of, in decreasing order of importance:
1, meeting my readers.
2, going on panels.
3, seeing friends and colleagues.
4, making new friends and colleagues.
5, having fun.
That’s basically it. Every con is an expense to me, not an opportunity to make money. Obviously I hope that in the long term they’ll pay off, in terms of sales and/or work, but that’s a very long game. And, you know, like everyone else in this industry, *I love comics*. So I actually enjoy attending cons.
Continued belowIn the UK, where I do actually rent a table and sit there selling books, it’s different. There, I have sympathy with people who watching hundreds of young kids walks straight past their table, heading for the videogame demos or cosplay photo areas. It happens to me, too, and it’s tough.
But these kids are also the audience of tomorrow. Right now, every penny they have goes on the not-insignificant costs of attending cons, and making their costumes if they’re into cosplay.
Sure, it would be nice if that money was spent buying comics, instead. Hell, when I was a kid I could only buy a tenth of the books, comics, games, and music I wanted to. But then guess what happened? I grew up, got a job, had some spare income, and blew it on all the stuff I hadn’t been able to buy for the previous ten years.
Call me optimistic, but I see more kids reading comics than ever before. Maybe they don’t all go to cons. God knows, most of us weren’t exactly social butterflies when we were younger, right? But they’re out there, and they’re reading. Telling them they, or their friends, aren’t real fans because they don’t have enough spare money strikes me as self-defeating.
Ryan Browne (God Hates Astronauts)
I find that engaging with people in a light and humorous way is really important. Like most creators, I spent at good 10 years on the other side of the table and I know how awkward it can be. I try to ask questions and make stupid jokes–really whatever I can do to make it so that we aren’t both sitting there in silence. Recently I’ve been bringing stupid things to give away for free (like American Gladiators trading cards) so that we have something to laugh about. Much of my personality is in my books so I focus on a fun interaction instead of boring them with a sales pitch. If they liked talking to me, they will probably like my books.
Ed Brisson (The Field, Sheltered)
For me, it’s a few things. First, I always try set realistic expectations. As a writer, I can’t do commissions like most artists do and there isn’t a writer equivalent to original art that I can bring to sell. All I have are my books. And that’s fine. One problem I’ve seen with some other writers is that they try to compare their sales over the course of a con to an artist’s sales, which… it’s apples and oranges. You can’t do it.
I take some time to think about what I want to get out of a show and try to make that happen. Each show is different and you’re not going to get the same out of any two. I’ll sometimes go to a show just to hang out with friends and meet readers. Other shows, I’ll go to meet with editors to discuss upcoming projects or pitch new ideas. I generally try to bring just enough product so that I’m taking next to none home, but not so little that I sell out too early.
I also try to curate what shows I go to. I used to go to SPX and TCAF a lot. Both are shows I love and miss. When I was going to those shows, I was writing and drawing my own comics as well as publishing some by others. The stuff I had back then would be more inline with Drawn & Quarterly or Fantagraphics style books. When I started to do stuff like Murder Book, it was a harder sell and so made less sense to go to a show that was about something else.
