Special thanks to Shaun Spalding for the photos.
[WARNING: This post contains excessive namedropping, esotericism, and gushing. Now that I’ve gotten this out of my system, Dial D for Djeljosevic will return to the regular stream of drunken rants about comics and open letters to Kanye West.]
Comic Conventions have gotten better for me over the years. As a teenager in South Florida, I had to deal with lame “collectibles nights” in a hotel ballrooms, tiny South Florida conventions populated mostly by vendors and creators of self-published books that didn’t go past the first issue, and slightly bigger cons where Richard Hatch is the biggest draw of the weekend. A contrarian teenager, I decided I hated cons and the weird gremlin fanboys who populated them.
Then came
MegaCon, the great convention below the South (clarification: Florida, despite its geographic location, is not a Southern state) with its swarms of cosplayers, “Free Hug” signs aplenty, and the presence of real creators like
Darwyn Cooke and
Mark Waid and top-tier convention celebs like
Peter Mayhew. It was huge. It was overwhelming. It was gleefully geeky. I took it all back; I love cons.
MegaCon was monstrous enough, but Comic-Con International: San Diego* is the biggest convention in the world. A year ago, I moved to the city where it’s happening**.
*This is what it’s really called. Found this out after getting it wrong in a bar trivia contest.
**San Diego, if you weren't paying attention.
THURSDAY: OVERSTIMULATED
We parked in a less-populated area of town and took one of the Con’s generous bus shuttles to the convention center.
Shaun: “Is this the shuttle for Comic-Con?”
Bus driver: [Derisive laugher]
Oh, how he laughed. Ever get laughter in response to a simple question? It’s ominous.
Soon enough we were nearing the San Diego Convention center and we saw the number of people outside. There was no line. There was no crowd. It was a fucking horde. Comic-Con is bigger than any of us ever imagined.
The line to get our admission badges snaked around itself. It was during this long wait that we learned a valuable PRO TIP: if an infinitely long, snaking line moves and someone on the side ahead of you doesn’t notice the movement, everyone in the latter portion gets to skip* .
*Warning: may not be a real rule. Unless you count mob rule.
After spending minutes upon seconds at a couple of panels we simply weren’t feeling, we ended up in the exhibit hall, which reminded me of every other Con floor I’ve ever been to: mini-comic shops, bootleg DVD vendors, indie comics presses. It would be hours before I realized that we were just in the comic book portion of the exhibit hall and that you could fit an aircraft carrier in there.
The first panel we sat through in its entirety: “Spotlight on Bryan Lee O’Malley,” wherein Scott McCloud gushed and chatted with O’Malley about the creation of Scott Pilgrim and other craft-related things. It was a treat to hear about the things that inspired one of my favorite comics (seriously, go read it now*), but what really struck me was O’Malley’s low-key demeanor. For the creator of such an energetic comic book, he’s an incredibly soft-spoken guy who seems like he might be more comfortable at his art desk or in front of a vintage NES than talking about River City Ransom in front of hundreds of admirers.
*Don’t forget to Digg me first.
Immediately following was the Dumbrella panel, which for me was the biggest surprise of Comic-Con, as I’m not a huge fan of webcomics. You can blame this exclusively on the fact that most of them are about the creators playing video games with their robot sidekick. Then there’s a matter of the oft-employed “joke a day” format, which doesn’t quite give me what I want out of sequential art. Then again, Diesel Sweeties really speaks to me, so I think it’s a matter of finding something I care about. And, let’s be honest, even something that I can’t stand like Questionable Content is more authentic and better made than Hi and Lois.
The panelists (because they deserve the attention) were Andrew Bell ( The Creatures in My Head), Sam Brown (explodingdog), Jon Rosenberg (Goats), Meredith Gran (Octopus Pie), Chris Yates (Reprographics), and the incomparable R. Stevens (Diesel Sweeties). Unsurprisingly, it was a joke-a-thon. Pretty sure my friends and I were a bit obnoxious, as we sat near the front and laughed loudly at every R. Stevens one-liner, who may have that disease where every response is an involuntary joke. What’s that called? I think it’s Djeljosevic Syndrome.
(if you look closely, you can see us in the last panel of this Repographics comic)
I’ve been thinking a bit about collectives like this. A while ago Warren Ellis encouraged/demanded that up-and-coming writers form a “band” with three artists and do an anthology book. Becky Cloonan, Gabriel Bá, Fábio Moon, and Vasilis Lolos formed a supergroup and even released a book (Pixu) which I forgot to pick up and have each of them sign. Maybe next time. There’s something to a collective. It’s strength in numbers, it’s more bang for your buck — it’s a series of clichés, really. Though mainstream comics seem a bit compartmentalized (here’s the writer, here’s the artist, here’s the letterer), there’s tons of room for active collaboration and beautiful serendipity.
Plus, I always wanted to be in a band.
The rest of the afternoon was going to be a solo flight (speaking of clichés). I went to a bunch of panels about breaking in and other boring professional stuff. No complaints, but Shaun and Raf went to see previews of Terry Gilliam’s newest and Kick-Ass while I watched people like C.B. Cebulski, Joe Quesada, and Jeph Loeb tell me what I already knew about working for Marvel — they don’t accept unsolicited writing, there’s minimal chance they’d give a complete newbie the chance to take over Astonishing X-Men, and that the best way to get your start with them is to get published elsewhere and come up with pitches for solid 8-page stories. Looking for a get-rich-quick type of answer is, of course, idiotic, but hearing these people give the same advice {in person} is reassuring.
Then came the Q&A section, the part I dread. I still live under the impression that most Con attendees live underground only to surface when Dan Didio is within shouting distance so once you give geeks a microphone someone’s going to break the taboos of basic human interaction. I had hope, though: this was a group of aspiring artists, writers, editors, and other comic book publishing staples (except, of course, aspiring staplers. The Staple Industry Convention is in October — or, as they call it Stapletober). Surely they’d be smart enough to solicit thoughtful advice and not make asses of everyone in the room and our ancestors.
“I want to write. I’ve done everything I can. I’ve spoken to all of you at cons, I’ve applied to be an intern, I’ve read all the books. What more can I do?”
“I’m a law student and I love comics, so what would it take to join Marvel’s legal department?”
“As an aspiring writer, it’s hard to find artists. Where do you recommend a writer find an artist besides Digital Webbing?”
So far so good.
"I'd love to be a voice actor. What would I need to do for that?”
Okay, maybe a bit misdirected, but still. Not a complete crazy, despite wearing a Deadpool costume.
The penultimate questioner stepped up to the mic.
“Why do you only hire either big-name writers or people from guilds?”
Oh Jesus.
Here it was: the crowd was going to gasp and the panel was going to be taken aback as this loonie berates them for hiring only Hollywood writers and major talents* . And we had to witness this and our dead grandparents were going to turn red and *POOF*.
*This claim may seem true, but it’s incredibly false.
Joe Quesada leaned over to his mic.
“That’s not true.”
The panelists, while clearly annoyed, took his question seriously and explained that no one in their right minds would let some random yahoo take over the Marvel Universe and urged him not to be mad just because Brian Michael Bendis writes Avengers and he doesn’t.
Despite my white T-shirt, it was a bit warm in the room.

Then came what could have been a more helpful workshop: “Creating Creator-Owned Comics the Image Comics Way,” which featured such creators as Stephen T. Seagle, Richard Starkings, and Joe Kelly talking about making creator-owned work. This should have been more helpful than it was, but they only had an hour to talk about stuff and they didn’t get through everything. Important lessons learned: the power of the Internet (might have known that, not sure), and the glorious opportunity we have as con attendees to talk to professionals and the like.
Skipped the Vertigo panel to wander the exhibit hall in a caffeineless daze. Like I said: real big, aircraft carrier. Minor tragedy when I got in line for swag at the DC booth and they ran out of Green Lantern rings six people ahead of me. One childhood dream quashed, and I didn’t mind all that much.
THURSDAY AFTERPARTY #1: Comic Book Legal Defense Fund
Or: Shut Up We’re Not Seeing Tyrese
Paid ten bucks donation for a bag of swag (Rasl #1! Some art prints! $20 off at Things from Another World!), free food, access to a cash bar, and the opportunity to hobnob with some genuine comics talent like Gabriel Bá, Fábio Moon, and Tyrese Gibson* .
*No, seriously.We sat at our table, looked around a lot as Raf tried to use mental powers to get a girl to talk to him. After a little while, having seen few creators (I did later realize that we were in the presence of Gabriel Bá), we decided to go, as we had a GWAR concert to go to*.
*No, seriously.
THURSDAY AFTERPARTY #2: GWAAAAAR
Or: I’m not sure why security is patting us down at a GWAR show — oh
Turns out this (free) GWAR concert was to promote Tim Schafer’s new game, Brütal Legend, which I assure you will be my new favorite game after I get through all the new Monkey Island and Sam & Max material. Which will be after I finish Super Smash Bros. Brawl, Saints Row 2, Fallout 3, Xenosaga Episode 1, Eternal Sonata — good lord, someone pay me to play these games.
Being a promotional event, the bar served free tequila drinks and tall boys of Asahi (!?).
Needless to say, we got drunk.
Chatted a bit with this hardcore GWAR fan who probably went on to seriously injure someone in the pit and then, more interestingly, we talked to a man we deemed Zombie Eric, organizer of the world’s largest zombie walk. He was at Comic-Con to get his Guinness World Records certificate. He told us about how the late creator of Poison Elves based a certain locale (I dunno, I’ve never read it) on a party house in their mutual hometown. We exchanged numbers but didn’t get a chance to hang out the rest of the weekend.
GWAR itself was okay. For a metal band that dresses in ridiculous rubber costumes, they don’t seem to have very much energy. If you took away the pageantry, they’d just be any other metal band. Once the novelty went away halfway through, time slowed down to a snail’s crawl and the music wouldn’t stop no matter how much I begged the world on Twitter.
A lesson was learned: GWAR is a vengeful band.
For some reason someone snuck a tallboy of Asahi into Shaun’s bag. How generous.
FRIDAY: YOU CAN EAT MY HEAD IF YOU WANT
Somehow managed to lose Raf during the act of getting off the bus. It was a rough night, so we wrongfully assumed he fell asleep on the bus and we unknowingly abandoned him. Turns out he just found another way in and spent the first half of the day hungover, cursing the God that zapped him into existence. Close enough.
Skipped the Mike Allred panel, couldn’t get into the Coraline panel, so we ended up at the X-Men panel to satisfy my comic book mancrush on Matt Fraction, who I assumed I wouldn’t be seeing at any other point during the con.
Shaun: “Which one is Matt Fraction?”
Me: “The dude in the hat.”
Shaun: [Thumbs up]
The panel itself was fine. A powerpoint presentation accompanied the writers’ rote, borderline disinterested descriptions of upcoming storylines. Where the panel really shined, though, was during the usually dreaded Q&A section which featured two guys in Deadpool costumes asking Deadpool-related questions*, a person in a Northstar costume asking questions in character, and Matt Fraction making fun of a stupid question.
Fan: “Is Jean going to have a part in [whatever the hell the next big crossover is]?”
Fraction: “Jean’s dead, dude. What kind of fan are you?"
*Seriously, people in Deadpool costumes are the winners of the con. Especially the one in the bathrobe.
The rest of the day was a blur as Shaun and I met up with Lauren for the end of the Prisoner panel (looks cool), the entire Spartacus: Blood & Sand panel (holy crap, it’s 300: The Series with more killing), and wandered the floor to check out the video game portion of the exhibit hall, where I spied Sam & Max creator Steve Purcell but wasn’t sure what to say and got a picture taken with a girl in a Max costume eating my head.
At some point I found myself in line to meet Bryan Lee O’Malley/get my newly-purchased copy of Lost at Sea signed. O’Malley seemed a bit more lively in person, as I suspected. When he asked me who to make it out to, my voice cracked when I said “Danny.” I repeated myself whilst affecting a deeper voice. Nobody found this funny. He did, however, sketch a kitty in my book.
Next up was the Marvel Animation panel, where we sat through clips and announcements about Iron Man: Armored Adventures and Wolverine & the X-Men just to see Warren Ellis (due to a convenient contractual obligation!) and get a first look at Marvel’s new anime venture. We were horrified by the Wolverine anime footage, which was a clichéd panderfest, with a spiky-haired swordsman with claws dispatching Japanese spirits — exactly what you’d think of when someone told you that Marvel was making anime. The Iron Man footage proved a bit more palatable, with missiles that turn into Iron Men and explosions abound. Thankfully, we were assured that this was only test footage to show what the animation would be like and reflected none of the actual content. Whew.
Warren Ellis I’ve never seen in live captivity before, but what surprised me most about him was his very Neil Gaiman-like accent — delicate, friendly, reassuring. Surely you’ve seen video of Neil Gaiman. When Ellis isn’t calling security on an overzealous fan, he sounds just like that. Shaun remarked that he looked like some sort of frightening British trucker.
Additional highlight featuring Madhouse President Masao Maruyama:
Panel moderator: “Who’s your favorite Marvel Comics character?”
Maruyama: [Japanese, a name that sounds like Jubilee]
Translator: “Maruyama-san’s favorite character is Jubei from Ninja Scroll — that is not a Marvel character!”
Maruyama: [Facepalms]
Translator: [Saving face] “He likes them all. He can’t decide.”
Skipped the DC Animation panel to go move my car.
Thursday was surprisingly uncrowded, and Friday was pretty thick with bodies, especially on the video game/media side of the exhibit hall. Following days were considerably more crowded. God help those who had to navigate the place on Saturday.
FRIDAY AFTERPARTY: TRUE BLOOD
Or: This Place Has Nothing For Me
Rock Bottom was hosting a True Blood promo party, with free drinks and swag. We had so many drink tickets (both ours and donated by people who were leaving) that we could all get nice and loaded. Too bad I had to drive. At least I got a “Fang Banger” T-shirt.
The only vegetarian option of the free food was some sort of giant mushroom (unacceptable), so there was a quick reprieve to the nearby Fuddruckers so I could get a veggie burger. That’s right: Fuddruckers had more to offer me than gourmet free food.
Sat with some new friends Lauren made that day whose names I’ve completely forgotten. In my memory they will be Derek and Priscilla. Derek stands out for bringing up Captain Britain and MI:13.
In walked in three actors from one of the twelve iterations of Stargate on TV and a couple actors from True Blood including Stellan Skarsgård’s son. Lots of picture flashing.
Had exactly one beer (“Surprise me,” I said, ensuring that I would not be able to order that drink again because I don’t know what it is) and considered seeing a late night showing of the new Harry Potter film. Didn’t happen.
SATURDAY: REPRIEVE
The scene, months previous:
“Saturday sold out.”
“Fuck!”
Guess who didn't buy tickets until after this scene.
A free Saturday meant I got a proper night’s rest for once this week. Raf and I did our radio show for the first time in weeks, where we read our short stories in our ongoing attempt to find a format worth a 20-minute drive to La Jolla. We’re getting ever so close.
Raf read a relatively normal but quite good short story while I read “Congratulations, Herr Jacobs. You’ve Just Been Promoted to The Life-Farm,” a borderline abstract pervert sci-fi story about god-knows-what. Nazis? Fucking? The meat industry? It pleases me to imagine the joggers and students walking by our speakers while I read things like
“MEAT! MEAT MUST BE COOKED!” I bellowed as I burned the damaged Reich Property formerly known as people.
Really, it’s about love. Between future Nazis. Spread over centuries.
Can’t wait for next show.
SATURDAY AFTER(?)PARTY: FALSEBLOOD
Or: A Shlock Smoothie Just for Me
Nighttime was another True Blood party we couldn’t get into because the line stretched all the way to Jupiter. We picked up a very drunk Lauren from this shindig and made our way to the Petco Park area for a free taping of Kaiju Big Battel. Did I mention I’ve never seen an episode of True Blood?
The taping took place in a building called Wonderhaus, an old Wonder Bread factory converted to a warehouse people rent for things like movie sets and art exhibits. I did background work on a TV show set that took place at an art gallery, so technically I’ve been to both at the Wonderhaus.
Whilst waiting in line, a conversation about how we weren’t going to argue Pirates vs. Ninjas attracted the attention of one Steve Wakcher, creator of the webcomic Circle vs. Square. Guess what it’s about. We had a fun chat, I’ve plugged him on my blog, and now I await payment.
For those unfamiliar with Kaiju Big Battel, it is like pro wrestling, but with people dressed as Godzilla-like monsters and Ultraman. It combines my two favorite bits of so-called low culture. Needless to say, it was amazing. The guys in front of me cheered on the villains and booed the heroes.
Walked all the way across town back to my car. San Diego was beautifully bustling — geek and bro alike swarmed the streets. I imagined all the exclusive industry parties and wondered how the usual San Diego nightlife felt about the nerds that cramped their style as they tried to neg some poor floozie at Aubergine or tried to look comfortable in high heels.
SUNDAY: SCHMOOZEDAY
Today was going to be the day: I printed 600 business cards, brought along the 100 good ones, and I was going to MAKE CONNECTIONS.
It helped that we all ended up going our separate ways for most of the day. Walking around in a group means you have a convenient set of people to talk to and less drive to chat with new people, make connections, and all that. One of my complaints about my MegaCon excursion, if you read that load of wank.
It also helped that I started the day waiting in line and talking to a very friendly aspiring actress named Raven who was courting the producers of the live-action Cowboy Bebop to play Faye. Having a conversation with a stranger does a lot for one’s confidence when you completely lack it.
Whilst waiting in line, I realized what I was wearing: beat-up Chucks, gray non-jean pants, a quirky button-up shirt, and a blue velvet jacket. Not to mention the black-frame glasses and goofy Caucasian appearance.
Holy crap, I looked like Doctor Who.
Except Doctor Who doesn’t wear a hat. Maybe no one will notice.
Spent about an hour trying to meet up with my Twitter friend Leeanne (“Where are you?” “In front of a condiment stand.” “So am I.”) before we finally met up at the Oni Press table and had a quick chat (she immediately noticed the Doctor Who resemblance) before she had to continue to volunteer. Maybe next time.
Also tried to meet up with my professional friend, Quarterstone Comics’ very own David LeVack, once I finally got the hang of Con and figured out where his booth was. He was busy being elsewhere the whole time (presumably doing the same thing I was), but I left my card and got an action figure made of me in the process.
Only one panel today. Caught the end of the Paper Heart panel as Charlene Yi called some douchebag questioner a creep for asking if Michael Cera was going to be an annoying weirdo in this movie too (“Go down your walk of shame!”). The Mystery Team anel was short, but hilarious as Donald Glover acted as a diva with a head injury and a fake mustache. Derrick Comedy’s going to be big(ger) with this one.
Afterward, I caught Devin Faraci of CHUD shooting the shit with what I assume were his fellow film critics. I thought it best not to bother a snarky film critic, so I went back to the exhibit hall.
Missed the “Making Webcomics” panel (sorry, Cameron Stewart and Molly Crabapple) as I wandered the convention floor and tried to talk to creators and the like. Good thing it's available online.
Doing this sort of schmoozing thing can be confusing. Which small press publisher is a legitimate publisher and which one is just a couple of dudes putting out their one crappy comic? Are they talking to me for the love of the game or do they just want to sell, again, their one crappy comic?
Got called over to a booth with some creators selling their graphic novel series called Age of Insects, about a war between humans and insect-human hybrids or something. They were classy enough to rope Ben Templesmith into doing the covers, so it can’t be all bad. I haven’t read it yet, but flipping through later chapters reveal some pretty good gore.
First intentional stop was comics bad boy Rich Johnston — gossip monger (I mean that lovingly), journalist, comic book writer, and friendly Brit. “Don’t shoot me — shoot Daniel!” he wrote as word balloons on the Doctor Who: Room with a Déjà View issue I just bought from the IDW booth.
“This is not cosplay, by the way,” I said, pointing out my outfit. Immediately a real Doctor Who cosplayer showed up and he and Tony Lee took pictures with him.
Johnston gave me a Bleeding Cool business card, so I gave him mine — “Just as a confidence booster for me. Feel free to throw it away later.” He politely accepted it. Nice guy, that Rich.
And holy crap, Matt Fraction was doing a signing at the Marvel booth. I searched through the first comic book vendor I found and came across exactly what I was looking for: a 2007 Sensational Spider-Man annual* by Fraction and Salvador Larocca — a nice one-shot story about the relationship between Spider-Man and Mary Jane and one of the few superhero comics to emotionally affect me. For my heart is otherwise black and lumpy.
*The only mainstream superhero comic I bought this weekend, by the way.
Waited in line with a bunch of fans who wanted their favorite creators to sign like five comic books while we watched other people at the booth get photoshopped into pictures of their favorite superheroes whilst holding up goofy props. It was very Disneyland.
“Just one,” I said once put my single issue of Spider-Man in front of him. “Hope that’s not too much.”
As he signed it with a heart-within-a-word-balloon coming from MJ’s mouth and a scribbly signature, I asked him what I referred to as “a probing professional question” about how much trust to put in an artist whilst scripting. Got a good answer about playing to the artist’s strengths. Plus, a Stark Enterprises business card.
“Stark Industries is looking for fresh talent. We’ve got a place for a fine young man such as yourself,” he said as I thanked him and walked off.
Additional fanboy moment: Walked by Nathan Fillion. Immediately stopped in my tracks and grinned.
Went over to the Dumbrella booth, bought/got autographed a Diesel Sweeties book and an Octopus Pie book whilst soliciting valuable coffee advice from R. Stevens himself. Will act on the advice once I run out of coffee.
R. Stevens himself is an incredibly friendly fellow — so friendly, in fact, that we ended up talking like three times that day. The second time I only stopped by because I forgot to thank him for the signing/advice and we ended up talking about Ninja Turtles with this TMNT superfan who comes by every year with free Turtles swag for the Dumbrella kids. Usually when people are done with you at Con (usually after you’ve paid them) they’ll offer a handshake (maybe) and say “Enjoy the show” as secret Con code for “I’m done with you. Who else wants to buy my self-xeroxed minicomic for 12 bucks?” but it felt like R. Stevens would have been cool with fans just hanging around all day.
Stopped by the AIT/Planet Lar booth and ended up buying Warren Ellis’ Switchblade Honey like I kept meaning to and publisher Larry Young’s complete Astronauts in Trouble. I got to talking to Young, who introduced me to Kirsten Baldock , writer of their newest book, Smoke & Guns (drawn by Fábio Moon!). Guess whose book I then bought. Then I was introduced to Stephen Grant, writer of Badlands. When I said I actually owned the published, unproduced screenplay but not the comic book, I found myself with a free copy of the screenplay (in lieu of the comic, which was sold out) signed by Grant. Let it be known that Larry Young might be the friendliest person in comics.
Best advice from Mr. Young: “Don’t worry about seeming too schmoozy. That’s why everyone’s here.”
Beaming just a bit after that experience, I found myself called over by Douglas Paszkiewicz, creator of the sick, hilarious Arsenic Lullaby. I mentioned that we met years ago in one of those tiny Pompano Beach conventions and we bonded over Insane Clown Posse, who were the special guests that year.
“It was like someone shook out a hot trailer home,” he said.
“You’re a sick, sick man. I love it,” I said as bought his newest book with quarters.
Met up with Shaun and I ended up in front of R. Stevens for a third time. I assured him I wasn’t a stalker. He pointed me out as the average fan (“low-key, well-dressed”). Shaun and I agreed to work on a webcomic* in front of him like we were getting married and he was the trustworthy sea captain.
*Still banging out that idea, by the way.
Our con experience ended with a reuniting with Raf as we attempted to get free swag at the Marvel booth — “attempted” meaning we shouted inane things to get attention like “This is my only shirt!” and “Pick me! My dad was a Hulk notebook!” We didn’t get anything, but it was fun little rally. I tried to negate the punk kid who was getting obnoxious about getting some swag by politely cheering on those who won things, be it a surf boards, statues, or shiny Dr. Doom hat.
Because Comic-Con is a happy place.
Like any good day, Sunday ended with burritos.
Jesus, my feet hurt.