The Cavalry Isn’t Coming
by Dave Baker
When I first started my journey as a creative individual, all I wanted was to be published. I didn’t even really care where or how or by who. I just wanted something I could take to people in my orbit and show that there was any sort of signal that this career choice of being a professional cartoonist was going to pan out. Relatively early on, I had multiple successes. I was hired to write and draw a story for a very small press comics publisher that was themed around zombies and cheerleaders, truly Shakespearean. But I didn’t care, it was something. I was also hired to draw an issue of the now defunct series Vincent Price Presents. I’m not even quite sure that the book ever made it to print. All I remember is that it was about hamsters. I spent a solid two months drawing hamsters and hating every second of it.
But, regardless, I had those successes as twin badges of honor. I now knew there was something here. I could make this a sustainable career. I could support myself, in theory, on it. But then things started to slow down. I started having a self-publish and I viewed this as not a right of passage or a time-honored tradition, but as an indictment of my skill level. I really wanted that external validation. And I spent years chasing it. Firing emails off into the void. Approaching editors at shows. Attempting to gain any sort of outside sense that the work I was doing would be publishable and distributable through the at-the-time distribution monolith of Diamond Comics Distribution LLC.
I didn’t really get any bites. No pats on the head. And definitely no offers of publishing contracts. I kind of gave up on comics for a while. I moved on to other things. I started writing essays, feature films, and a myriad of other creative outlets. I was extremely frustrated by the way things were going. No one was taking me seriously as a writer, or, at least, that’s how I perceived it. And after I moved to Los Angeles, I made a commitment to myself to find artists to work with and to redouble my efforts toward the comic book world. But this time I wasn’t going to wait for someone else to anoint me. I was going to self-publish, not as a means to an end, but as the soul point of the endeavor. My perspective changed completely. I was excited by this prospect. Galvanized, even.
I started a webcomic online called Action Hospital. I would go to comics conventions, drinking and draws, and figure drawing sessions to try and meet artists. I would always have sample scripts on me that I would show anyone who would deem me worthy of five minutes of chitchat. And ultimately, I ended up corralling a small but dedicated group of collaborators. I made this webcomic for about three years. Eventually, it made its way to print. I toured conventions. I met more creators. And the whole thing was completely freeing. I divorced myself from the need of outside feedback. I was doing this for my soul. And, of course, that’s when the publishing offers started to happen.
Looking back, the most important thing to happen to me during this time wasn’t actually the creation of the book. It was the experimentation of trying things and failing. And it was meeting people. During this period I met Nicole Goux, who I have made multiple graphic novels with, subsequently. If I hadn’t been putting myself out there in that context I never would have met her. And we wouldn’t have a virtual library shelf worth of collaborations.
Initially, we published a few books of a desire to have portfolio pieces. And that led to bigger and bigger publishing deals. We’ve put out books with Dark Horse, Top Shelf, Simon & Schuster, and many others.
All the while? We’ve been self-publishing. We’ve been doing both. It’s important to have one foot in each world, I think. There is a notion in the publishing world that once you’ve crossed the barrier into being a professional you never have to stoop to the idea of self-publishing again. This notion couldn’t be any more incorrect. In comics there is no cavalry. There’s no one that’s ever going to swoop in and do all the stuff you don’t want to do. It’s always a journey of a thousand steps and sometimes that means proving to editors that your idea actually does work on paper.
I have a 300 page collection of my Halloween Boy comics being published by Oni Press. The story sees a reclusive adventurer taking up a series of no-win scenarios, in a futile attempt that he’s the Patron Saint of the Impossible. Think Hellboy or Doc Savage, if he had a death wish.
This project started because I was looking for something to occupy my time in between signing a contract for Mary Tyler MooreHawk to be released and its actual publication. I didn’t want to just sit idly by and waste a year pitching to traditional bookmark publishers. So, I just decided to do it myself and then I’d sell it somewhere afterwards. And that’s exactly what happened.
I think from the outside I’m beyond the point where you would need to self-publish. And you’re probably right. I do a lot of work that doesn’t require me footing the bill. That being said, sometimes you believe in an idea so much that you don’t want to waste the amount of time it takes to run through the byzantine rat race of getting other people to believe in your idea. Sometimes you just wanna sit down and follow the creative enthusiasm that comes from the spark of an idea. And that’s exactly what I did with Halloween Boy.
A lot of artists are worried about being perceived as amateur or that they have fallen from a certain level of prestige. Self-publishing is still looked down upon in many circles. However, for me, I view it as an inalienable right. I come from the punk DIY mindset that doing it yourself isn’t because you can’t do it the other way, it’s because it’s the purest way.
I will say that since I’ve signed numerous traditional book market publishing deals there is a piece of my soul that is quieter. That external validation and the financial remuneration, meager though it may be, has really helped me evolve as a person. This is not something I’m proud of. In fact, it’s something I’m somewhat angry about. I don’t want to have my identity hinge on the decisions of others. Which is probably why I come back to self-publishing and betting on my own ideas time after time.
The cavalry is never coming. It’s just that simple. The quicker you realize that, the quicker you can get to doing the actual work. It’s not a fun fact, and it’s not cool to talk about it. But it’s the reality of the situation. No one’s going to care about your idea as much as you. Even when you do work with a larger publishing entity, you’re the one that’s going to go out and have to promote or attempt to garner interest. It’s just the way it works. The sooner you come to grips with that the sooner you can grit your teeth and bear down on being more productive.
