A few years ago at an Oakland Con, a young man walked up to me atthe bar and demanded I introduce him to PUNISHER editor Don Daley,who was across the room, because, as he put it, he wrote The Punisherbetter than anyone.
Why this was supposed to impress me into doing his bidding I don'tknow. (I also don't know why he didn't just walk up to Don, who wasacross the room, like he walked up to me.) As I'd hit a couple of mybrief shots of fame with the PUNISHER MINI-SERIES and thePunisher graphic novel RETURN TO BIG NOTHING - neither of whichthe young man had read - I was amused. He, in fact, had read very littleof the Punisher, had disliked what he read, and decided he'd be so muchbetter at it, so he was there to save the character. (Not that the Punisher,who'd spent six years carrying three regular series and numerousmini-series and guest-shots on his shoulders, wasn't commercially burnedout and desperately needed saving at that time.) Because I'd had a few atthat point, I quizzed him just for fun, asking him what makes the Punishertick.
"They killed his wife and family -"
I shook my head.
"He hates criminals, and he wants -"
I shook my head again.
He tried a third approach, and when I cut him off again, he got angry,and demanded to know the "truth." "The Punisher -" I teased it out with asip of my drink. "- is an existentialist." He just stared for about thirtyseconds, then stormed from the bar without another word. I could tell hethought I was just giving him a hard time, and missed that I was giving itto him straight up.
Sometime in the mid-80s, as artist-turned-artist/writers were just coming into vogue in mainstream comics in the wake of Howard Chaykin, Frank Miller and Mike Grell, a COMICS JOURNAL reviewer made a snotty but perceptive crack along the lines of "I can understand why artists would look at what they're asked to draw and think 'Hey, I can write this [crap]!' And it's true! They can!"
Of course, crap is a relative term, and no two people will agree down the line what's crap and what isn't. It isn't confined to comics by any stretch. Most TV is crap, the movie theaters are filled with crap, reams and reams of crap disguised as novels are published every year. (And I don't exonerate myself; I've turned out more than my share.) But comics is a strange field in that so much of the audience is not only convinced that most comics are crap (the ones they don't read, of course) but that they could do better given the chance, to the point where someone can claim he's the best writer ever on a character he barely read and never wrote.
Not that we haven't brought much of this on ourselves. So many comicsare so obviously crappy it's no wonder many readers, just to keepthemselves interested, brim over with ideas they'd do if they were writingthe books. It's also due to the relatively tight interrelation between prosand fans - very few of today's comics professionals didn't rise from fanranks, and comics fans have virtually unparalleled access via cons,e-mail, etc. to many people who work on the books - that it seems farmore possible to write an issue of SPIDER-MAN than an episode ofXENA. And writing, even to the general population, seems like aromantic way of life. While it beats the hell out of sewer maintenance,keep in mind that nothing is glamorous when you do it for a living. (Andall restaurants are greasy spoons when you get into the kitchen.)
Still, many want to break into comics. While the business is in a state ofdeep compression, and opportunities are vanishing like the buffalo, theDiamond catalog looks like the phone book and reads almost as well,and people do break in. So the question constantly comes up atconventions: "Comics are such crap, I know my ideas are much better,but I can't even get an editor to look at them. Why is that?"
Since so many of you have asked, here are the reasons:
- It's not the editor's job to find new talent. Comics generally have set talent stables and there isn't much room to, say, come in with a new take on Green Lantern; even if the editor is dazzled, he can't do much with it. Just getting existing books through the system puts most editors into overtime. Talent hunting is a spare time activity, and while many editors do want to stay open to new talent, time is short.
- Because they need to get books out on a particular schedule, most editors like to work with people they know, and think they can trust. Even if they can get one great idea out of you, they have no guarantee they can get a publishable story out of you issue after issue, and that's what they need. On serial comics, anyway.
- These days, a lot of stories featuring established characters generate out of the internal politics of comics companies. Ideas are judged not only on their own merit but on how they mesh with the company direction. You can have the most brilliant idea in the world and there are all kinds of reasons why it wouldn't sell.
- It takes time to look at writing, and, again, time is short. An editor can spot art he likes in an instant, but wading through plots is time-consuming and demands a focus that art doesn't.
- Tastes vary. In some cases, an editor knows he's publishing crap, but the schedule demands he has a book ready at a set date and he lets it go and hopes he can do better next time. In many cases, editors don't think they're producing crap. And they might not be. You might think it's crap because it doesn't play to your particular obsessions. It's a judgment call with two judges, the editor and the reader, and sales figures are the tie breaker. If you're looking to catch an editor's interest, it's probably not a good idea to start by telling him his books are crap.
- Ideas are crap. Ideas by themselves mean nothing, and here you're caught in #2's web again. An idea doesn't mean you can plot, a decent plot doesn't mean your dialogue's any good, and these are all things an editor needs to know. Ideas aren't that difficult to come by, but they only matter if you do something with them, and you can only say an idea is good if it pays off. (And I'm not strictly talking about money.) Great stories can have appalling-sounding plots (break TRANSMETROPOLITAN or SANDMAN down to one-line 'high concepts' sometime) and great-sounding plots can generate horrid stories. So I can forgive editors for not always knowing which is which.
- Even bad work is harder than it looks.
That said, people do break in all the time. I used to say that if they want tobreak in at Marvel, move to New York City, and if you want to break in at DC,move to London. Wherever you try to break in, whether on work-for-hire orcreator-owned material, it'll be difficult and painful. We live in an era whereeveryone wants the hot new thing but no one wants to take a risk on it, and,particularly among the smaller houses, pass as much of the risk as possible down to the talent. Self-publishing isalways an option, but promotion and distribution are prohibitive.
Which is too bad, because the comics industry needs work that will standout and make people take notice. We need writers who can generateone great idea after another, and then make them work, and if one idea isshot down another's there to take its place. We need writers who aren'tafraid to jettison the tired old detritus of comics' past and look to itsfuture, and aren't afraid to treat that past as raw material for newdirections. We need iconoclasts who think like devils and write likeangels.
We need writers who have something to say, who impose their point ofview on whatever material they're asked to handle, and who cantransform it into something dramatic, contemporary, individualistic and -hardest of all - necessary.
What we don't need is writers who want to rerun what's already beendone. It's true: anybody can write that crap!
But why would you want to?
For those who came in late:
My website is at www.access1.net/sdgrant. The answers to a lot ofquestions people have been e-mailing me about can be found there.
Next personal appearance: The Seattle Comic-Card Con, The RainierRoom at the Seattle Center, Sunday Sept. 20, 11 AM-3:30 PM.Doors open at 10, and I'll try to get a list of the other pros who'll bethere. If you're in the Pacific Northwest, drop by.