This night, Friday, December 27th, I find myself alone in my room, thinking, yet again. I made an attempt to visit Undergrounds Coffeehaus with the hope of making progress on Issue 3 of Periphery; that idea then being noticeably a bad one considering that the vicinity was brimmed with what I could only presume to be children, all flocking to one place, due to their schools being closed for the winter holiday. I vacated, and decided that I'd best return home, since the likelihood of doing "something" outside would never transpire. Simultaneously, another accomplishment that would have been gratifying should Undergrounds have worked, was that I would get a cup of coffee, to waken me, and give me the energy needed to apply 3, perhaps 4 more hours of work in the comic. En route to my home I stopped at Dunkin Donuts and did just that, only to find my self, in front of my computer; here.
I sat down at my work station, gazed upon my poster and inspirational imagery laden wall, and ran my eyes over one small piece of data that chilled me.
Frighteningly so.
This sensation is no stranger to me, its poison, however, worsened by the fact that I have substance behind it.
Over a period of one year, I have bled an insurmountable amount of hours in my series, alone, with little to no real help in seeing it's fruition come to be. For over a year, I have focused my strengths and every ounce of energy I can muster into 48 pages of sequential imagery.
I've graduated from an obscenely expensive and poorly chosen college with a degree worth as much as my own sweat. It has since been 4 years that my leaving that school has set me on a path of a, grind, so to speak, the likes of which many may never experience. It has been 4 years after encapsulating over eighty thousand dollars in debt, worked under 7 different employers, lived in three different addresses, applied for x number of field related jobs and continuously am turned away; and after four years, all I have to show for myself is two comic books?
Let's say tomorrow I burn everything I've ever acquired in my life: every gift, every hand-me-down, every object, every toy, every movie, every game, every book, every letter, every picture, every article of clothing; burn it down until I can manifest the weightlessness of it no longer existing; burn it all away, I would only have two comic books.
Two.
Take away EVERYTHING! EVERYONE! ALL OF IT! And those comic books would be the greatest, most fundamental integer of my life.
But such a luxury does not exist, it never COULD!
I want to ask why that is, but the answer would be subjective. I want to know what I can do to change it, but I think it won't. So my first step to recovery? Admitting failure.
As an artist, as an individual, as a societal entity, I am a failure.
Healthy or not, it's necessary to identify shit like this, to bring it to life, to regain control and get a grasp on the larger picture looking in. Any man unable to change a life he finds unhealthy, by the sheer fact that nothing he does allows it, is a failure.
Friday, December 27, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
So Much Work Remains...
Today, has most certainly been a day chalk full of surprises; it was as if one after another, my spirits were rejuvenated, helping me to have a much clearer outlook on my immediate future, and what lay in store.
To be frank, I've still plenty left to figure out, and as my friend Gavin so eloquently put, my plans are more apropos to dreams that become accessible should a series of events and circumstances fall into a particular section of time at a particular point IN time. Let's just call this cautious optimism.
Today, I awoke to a phone call that acts as the very first step toward achieving my absolute and proprietary accomplishment this year: relocating. A job opportunity that will provide full time hours and higher pay; though not field related, it is exactly the stepping stone I need in order to generate the income needed to make any kind of moves. Secondly, after careful discussion with the agency responsible with providing me the opportunity, I have, once the proper funds have been allocated, all intent to utilize them in aiding my move and further cushion any unforeseen or dramatic blow back that may result.
The second part to this nuts day was that Issue One of Periphery has arrived.
And I am indeed beside myself.
It was more than I could really have expected; humbling, extravagant, bewildering, beautiful, so many emotions, all at once.
I held in my hand for the very first time in 25 years, my first comic book. 24 pages of art work that I slaved over for 5 months, all on my own.
For a moment, I stopped in amazement, and took a deep breath, allowing myself to absorb this triumph knowing that no one else will or cares to.
And yet there is still so much work left to do.
I've done so much for myself these past few months, worked so hard at simply being a good human being, did everything I could to achieve some level of success, and lost something really special to me along the way. But this book....
I'll have further details regarding retail, how to contact me to get a copy, and what the next steps are in coming blogs. But for now, I'm going to take a nap before work.
Cheers to you all.
To be frank, I've still plenty left to figure out, and as my friend Gavin so eloquently put, my plans are more apropos to dreams that become accessible should a series of events and circumstances fall into a particular section of time at a particular point IN time. Let's just call this cautious optimism.
Today, I awoke to a phone call that acts as the very first step toward achieving my absolute and proprietary accomplishment this year: relocating. A job opportunity that will provide full time hours and higher pay; though not field related, it is exactly the stepping stone I need in order to generate the income needed to make any kind of moves. Secondly, after careful discussion with the agency responsible with providing me the opportunity, I have, once the proper funds have been allocated, all intent to utilize them in aiding my move and further cushion any unforeseen or dramatic blow back that may result.
The second part to this nuts day was that Issue One of Periphery has arrived.
And I am indeed beside myself.
It was more than I could really have expected; humbling, extravagant, bewildering, beautiful, so many emotions, all at once.
I held in my hand for the very first time in 25 years, my first comic book. 24 pages of art work that I slaved over for 5 months, all on my own.
For a moment, I stopped in amazement, and took a deep breath, allowing myself to absorb this triumph knowing that no one else will or cares to.
And yet there is still so much work left to do.
I've done so much for myself these past few months, worked so hard at simply being a good human being, did everything I could to achieve some level of success, and lost something really special to me along the way. But this book....
I'll have further details regarding retail, how to contact me to get a copy, and what the next steps are in coming blogs. But for now, I'm going to take a nap before work.
Cheers to you all.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Method to Madness
It's been a crazy past couple of days; work's been kicking my ass, covering shifts and hitting doubles consecutively, it'd gotten to the point where I was struggling to make time to work on Issue Two. But thankfully, I've got the day off tomorrow, and I plan to fully utilize that day being productive and catching up on what I need to.
Be that as it may, having pushed myself to such extremes at work has most certainly aided in accomplishing the second most important thing that's supposed to happen this year:
Issue One has been purchased; prints are on the way!!
Fuckin A right I gotta tell you, it feels damn good, but what'll obliterate that particular feeling is just holding on to that first print...
Salivating; I am.
The details regarding where to pick up a copy, who gets one mailed to them, or where to grab it online will all come about when they get to me door step.
That was really all I wanted to talk about, but then this happened lol (you don't have to read all of that shit below, but I'd appreciate it no doubt):
Small tangent, if I may...
I was speaking with a friend of mine the other night, kinda wanted to put some thoughts I've had rummaging in my brain out on the table and get her insight on some..well, most of those topics. Nothing crazy really, just some fears I've had about where I am in life, where I'm going; shit I've done, shit I'm doing, my family, myself; what's the outcome gonna be? What am I to make of it all, such and so on.
A small part of me has a foreboding fear that choosing comics as the mainstay representation of my 80 thousand dollar receipt for drawing well was a bad idea, another part of me fears that in the nearing four years since graduation, my inability to land a field related job and the ever growing time frame of not having enough experience has set me back considerably compared to those that have. Needless to say, I'm 25, and I'm actually scared that I've fucked up some how.
Now before I get a swarm of "oh grow up" or "stop being such a pessimist", or "fuck you black man" from anyone, I'd like to point out that I know 25 is still young, I've plenty of time still to make something good happen, and work that much harder to get what I want out of life. The biggest... how to put this eloquently... lie? I think I've come to realize is that the emergence of adulthood can be represented as, let's say, an oar. This oar is handed to you by a faceless individual, let's call it society. Once you're handed this oar, you're pointed in the direction of a raft that has been "shaped" by the person you are, and ultimately your decision to accept or decline college. If you chose to go to college, your raft gets the works, a full shine job, sturdier frame and such. However, if you don't go to college, said raft may not be as strong, or just dingy looking.
You're confronted, immediately, by two choices that will, or ought to "define" what your outcome in life will/may be. So of course, naive little 17 year old kid accepts that "hey, obviously I don't want to get caught with my pants down in a shitty raft, better go to college". And so it begins, into the raft you go, and on your way, perhaps not deliberately but most certainly ignorantly oblivious to two of the most important questions that should've been asked prior to boarding your chosen raft: what type of waters should I expect, and can this oar actually steer me without breaking?
But how are you to know this? Who's there to warn you? Your parents? Your teachers?
Is it one's own fault for not applying themselves hard enough? Can society and its economical stand point really be blamed? Should it? Perhaps one's skill just really isn't up to par to what the industry demands of you, and then what? Work harder while doubly earning your independence badges? Two jobs, maybe three just to take the edge off? Fight to win, fight to live? Be better, be smarter, be more adventurous? Take on everything, compromise nothing? Live at home, if you're so fortunate to have one to go back to? Live on your own? Do you put your whims aside and see to another's dream coming true? Create or be apart of a collective and build something together? Fight on your own terms and see to your own success? Push your limits? Break them if need be? What are they? What breaks them? Become susceptible to influences or create your own path? How do you win? How can you win? Do you even bother wining? Is survival enough? Is survival the only thing that matters? Is survival overrated? Are you capable? What defines your capabilities? What are your standards? Are you driven to uphold them? Can they be sacrificed? Who the fuck are you? Why are you doing this? What possible, overwhelmingly self absorbed purpose could you ever bring forth to us all? To everything? To everyone? And for fuck sakes... you actually intend to father children?
I'll stop for the sake of losing my point.
I want to do something with my life that not only provides a means of inspiration to others, but gives me a chance to bring... I don't know, something to the proverbial table. But can I really expect to provide "the" life for my offspring if I can't even control my own? Coming here from another country has proved, time and again, to be extremely daunting, and no, I don't mean overcoming fears, stereotypes (pertinent though they may be), or even adjusting to new cultures. No, it's the life support that so many of my US natives have that I severely lack: I have no cushion. My failure, here and now, outlines my own doomed future, and with what little family I have and cherish, there is no net to fall back on, and that scares me.
I go to work, and come home and draw; rinse and repeat. Pretty easy for a single male with no responsibilities beyond personal amenities, but for how long? I don't want to be 29 and still have this conversation, fuck I didn't want to be 25 and still have this conversation but I figured, fuck I just graduated, time to pay some dues, kick down a few doors and whatever. Shit got real, and I know it gets worse, I just don't know when or how.
I've chosen to create a comic series on my own because finding help is hard without paying someone, and having to rely on others often leads to failure, first hand witnessed accounts mind you. Why does it have to be that way? As much as I wish it didn't, it does, and well, Issue One is all I have to say about that. But there's a lot of this I can't handle alone, and fooey on me for not being smarter with the time I had with someone beside me.
After I blabbed her ear off, my friend wrapped up with really only one possible next step that ought to alleviate, or even substantially fix everything; start over, move to a place that can better your chances and start over.
I've lived in Florida since I came to this country in 97, 16 bloody years ago.
It is perhaps indeed time that notion becomes a higher priority than I realize.
Be that as it may, having pushed myself to such extremes at work has most certainly aided in accomplishing the second most important thing that's supposed to happen this year:
Issue One has been purchased; prints are on the way!!
Fuckin A right I gotta tell you, it feels damn good, but what'll obliterate that particular feeling is just holding on to that first print...
Salivating; I am.
The details regarding where to pick up a copy, who gets one mailed to them, or where to grab it online will all come about when they get to me door step.
That was really all I wanted to talk about, but then this happened lol (you don't have to read all of that shit below, but I'd appreciate it no doubt):
Small tangent, if I may...
I was speaking with a friend of mine the other night, kinda wanted to put some thoughts I've had rummaging in my brain out on the table and get her insight on some..well, most of those topics. Nothing crazy really, just some fears I've had about where I am in life, where I'm going; shit I've done, shit I'm doing, my family, myself; what's the outcome gonna be? What am I to make of it all, such and so on.
A small part of me has a foreboding fear that choosing comics as the mainstay representation of my 80 thousand dollar receipt for drawing well was a bad idea, another part of me fears that in the nearing four years since graduation, my inability to land a field related job and the ever growing time frame of not having enough experience has set me back considerably compared to those that have. Needless to say, I'm 25, and I'm actually scared that I've fucked up some how.
Now before I get a swarm of "oh grow up" or "stop being such a pessimist", or "fuck you black man" from anyone, I'd like to point out that I know 25 is still young, I've plenty of time still to make something good happen, and work that much harder to get what I want out of life. The biggest... how to put this eloquently... lie? I think I've come to realize is that the emergence of adulthood can be represented as, let's say, an oar. This oar is handed to you by a faceless individual, let's call it society. Once you're handed this oar, you're pointed in the direction of a raft that has been "shaped" by the person you are, and ultimately your decision to accept or decline college. If you chose to go to college, your raft gets the works, a full shine job, sturdier frame and such. However, if you don't go to college, said raft may not be as strong, or just dingy looking.
You're confronted, immediately, by two choices that will, or ought to "define" what your outcome in life will/may be. So of course, naive little 17 year old kid accepts that "hey, obviously I don't want to get caught with my pants down in a shitty raft, better go to college". And so it begins, into the raft you go, and on your way, perhaps not deliberately but most certainly ignorantly oblivious to two of the most important questions that should've been asked prior to boarding your chosen raft: what type of waters should I expect, and can this oar actually steer me without breaking?
But how are you to know this? Who's there to warn you? Your parents? Your teachers?
Is it one's own fault for not applying themselves hard enough? Can society and its economical stand point really be blamed? Should it? Perhaps one's skill just really isn't up to par to what the industry demands of you, and then what? Work harder while doubly earning your independence badges? Two jobs, maybe three just to take the edge off? Fight to win, fight to live? Be better, be smarter, be more adventurous? Take on everything, compromise nothing? Live at home, if you're so fortunate to have one to go back to? Live on your own? Do you put your whims aside and see to another's dream coming true? Create or be apart of a collective and build something together? Fight on your own terms and see to your own success? Push your limits? Break them if need be? What are they? What breaks them? Become susceptible to influences or create your own path? How do you win? How can you win? Do you even bother wining? Is survival enough? Is survival the only thing that matters? Is survival overrated? Are you capable? What defines your capabilities? What are your standards? Are you driven to uphold them? Can they be sacrificed? Who the fuck are you? Why are you doing this? What possible, overwhelmingly self absorbed purpose could you ever bring forth to us all? To everything? To everyone? And for fuck sakes... you actually intend to father children?
I'll stop for the sake of losing my point.
I want to do something with my life that not only provides a means of inspiration to others, but gives me a chance to bring... I don't know, something to the proverbial table. But can I really expect to provide "the" life for my offspring if I can't even control my own? Coming here from another country has proved, time and again, to be extremely daunting, and no, I don't mean overcoming fears, stereotypes (pertinent though they may be), or even adjusting to new cultures. No, it's the life support that so many of my US natives have that I severely lack: I have no cushion. My failure, here and now, outlines my own doomed future, and with what little family I have and cherish, there is no net to fall back on, and that scares me.
I go to work, and come home and draw; rinse and repeat. Pretty easy for a single male with no responsibilities beyond personal amenities, but for how long? I don't want to be 29 and still have this conversation, fuck I didn't want to be 25 and still have this conversation but I figured, fuck I just graduated, time to pay some dues, kick down a few doors and whatever. Shit got real, and I know it gets worse, I just don't know when or how.
I've chosen to create a comic series on my own because finding help is hard without paying someone, and having to rely on others often leads to failure, first hand witnessed accounts mind you. Why does it have to be that way? As much as I wish it didn't, it does, and well, Issue One is all I have to say about that. But there's a lot of this I can't handle alone, and fooey on me for not being smarter with the time I had with someone beside me.
After I blabbed her ear off, my friend wrapped up with really only one possible next step that ought to alleviate, or even substantially fix everything; start over, move to a place that can better your chances and start over.
I've lived in Florida since I came to this country in 97, 16 bloody years ago.
It is perhaps indeed time that notion becomes a higher priority than I realize.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
What Dreams May Come?
So my friend, Juan Fernandez, the talented SOB that he is, gave my friends and I some extremely insightful knowledge regarding submitting books to Image. As most of you may know, Juan is a certified DC colorist, I mean this guy is the fucking bees knees. And too, Image is pretty much among the biggest independent distributors outside of Marvel and DC, but they're among the smallest minority houses that still, I guess, features an "open door" policy when it comes to submitting books. They're all about artists maintaining creator rights and what not, which is all well and good, so suffice it to say, I had the intent on submitting Periphery once I was done with it.
"Couple things to keep in mind", he said:
"Before you even approach them, make sure to have at least the first three issues ready to go!"
That wasn't all too surprising; matter of fact, just after I graduated from AI, I had put together a newspaper comic strip that I wanted to get syndicated for daily printing. It was a pretty decent story, but they all required 3 months MINIMUM amount of strips before it gets sent to print (yo that's like 90 3 to 4 panel strips I got 4 in and I was like, aight this can wait), so it's only natural that a comic book publishing company would want the same kind of security blanket from their artists. But here's where he caught me:
"Second thing to keep in mind, you're going to need to acquire roughly 25 to 28 hundred dollars to cover the cost of print, advertising, and distribution."
Well holy shit Sammy I do believe we've got an issue!
Where the fuck am I gonna get that type of money? So as I stood there in the cold night surround by my three home dawgies, I pontificated as to where I could establish such a high amount of fundage, but then, classic Juan, threw in the clincher at the very end:
"That's 25 to 28 hundred...EACH".
Go ahead and calculate that on your own time.
So the way I saw my life unfurling before me was damn near tragic; why in God's name did I think this was a feasible endevour? Allow me to spit some logic at you: Let's say, that somehow, you're able to procure 10 grand to pay Image, AND you've got three books ready to roll right? Pros: That ten grand has covered distribution costs, guaranteed rack sales at hundreds if not thousands of comic book shops across the US, and maybe even the world! Advertising on imagecomics.com (you're welcome), and a whole slue of other shit! Guess what; Cons: even with all of that, there is absolutely no guarantee that you'd see ANY profit from those books (for the benefit of the doubt, let's say initially), that means that in the three months that each of the three issues are released, you may not even break even, considering that you've got to use the earnings from that book to pay for the remaining issues.
Gamble? Too subtle a word I think.
So his advice was to just promote the book on my own; pay for the printing myself, chat up comic shops across the book on my own, and submit it to them all on my own terms and income. Of course it made sense, and for but a fleeting moment, all hope didn't seem lost.
What's funny though, it's like 6 a.m. right, and today is the first day off after my 21 consecutive days of work at my job, and I took it upon myself to digitally submit Periphery to Image Comics lol.
Why the fuck not right?
Fuck it if they don't like it, I'll just keep doing what I'm doing and have a blast doing it...
But maybe....just maybe... lol come on obviously they're not gonna pick it up but a nigga can dream right?!
Cheers!
"Couple things to keep in mind", he said:
"Before you even approach them, make sure to have at least the first three issues ready to go!"
That wasn't all too surprising; matter of fact, just after I graduated from AI, I had put together a newspaper comic strip that I wanted to get syndicated for daily printing. It was a pretty decent story, but they all required 3 months MINIMUM amount of strips before it gets sent to print (yo that's like 90 3 to 4 panel strips I got 4 in and I was like, aight this can wait), so it's only natural that a comic book publishing company would want the same kind of security blanket from their artists. But here's where he caught me:
"Second thing to keep in mind, you're going to need to acquire roughly 25 to 28 hundred dollars to cover the cost of print, advertising, and distribution."
Well holy shit Sammy I do believe we've got an issue!
Where the fuck am I gonna get that type of money? So as I stood there in the cold night surround by my three home dawgies, I pontificated as to where I could establish such a high amount of fundage, but then, classic Juan, threw in the clincher at the very end:
"That's 25 to 28 hundred...EACH".
Go ahead and calculate that on your own time.
So the way I saw my life unfurling before me was damn near tragic; why in God's name did I think this was a feasible endevour? Allow me to spit some logic at you: Let's say, that somehow, you're able to procure 10 grand to pay Image, AND you've got three books ready to roll right? Pros: That ten grand has covered distribution costs, guaranteed rack sales at hundreds if not thousands of comic book shops across the US, and maybe even the world! Advertising on imagecomics.com (you're welcome), and a whole slue of other shit! Guess what; Cons: even with all of that, there is absolutely no guarantee that you'd see ANY profit from those books (for the benefit of the doubt, let's say initially), that means that in the three months that each of the three issues are released, you may not even break even, considering that you've got to use the earnings from that book to pay for the remaining issues.
Gamble? Too subtle a word I think.
So his advice was to just promote the book on my own; pay for the printing myself, chat up comic shops across the book on my own, and submit it to them all on my own terms and income. Of course it made sense, and for but a fleeting moment, all hope didn't seem lost.
What's funny though, it's like 6 a.m. right, and today is the first day off after my 21 consecutive days of work at my job, and I took it upon myself to digitally submit Periphery to Image Comics lol.
Why the fuck not right?
Fuck it if they don't like it, I'll just keep doing what I'm doing and have a blast doing it...
But maybe....just maybe... lol come on obviously they're not gonna pick it up but a nigga can dream right?!
Cheers!
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Here Comes The Sun
Forced to pull in another all nighter, here I am at what... 5:20 in the a.m. and only halfway done with this client's comic page; fooey on me thinking digitally illustrating would be faster, it's almost like an hour and a half per panel.
But whatever, it's gotta get done.
Came across this painter from the late 20th, courtesy of 4chan (she strikes again). Dudes name is Zdzisław Beksiński, a Polish fellow with an eye for unimaginably grim surrealism. I'd always been fond of a particular painting of his (unbeknownst to me of course, and pictured below). It's this fellow walking through a crevasse, or canyon or something, and along the walls, towering over this little guy, are menacingly ominous figures just standing there in a row. Some of which look as though they materialize from crows, others holding some kind of object or device entailing God only knows. Such a fantastic piece it is!
(I'm kinda hesitant about uploading works of others on here, but for disclaimers sake, this work of art is property of Zdzisław Beksiński; copyright whenever he painted it)
I kinda think the extended black section was done digitally, I'm not entirely sure the original piece looks this way.
After Googling the majority of his work, that painting sparked some serious creative embers in my brain. I would absolutely love to create a story in and around his paintings, I may one day take a stab at recreating imagery such as this and see if this could turn into something I could get into
Absolutely can not wait to get his book, ought to be a treat!
Issue Two of Periphery is running along fine, I've got my first day off in three weeks this Thursday! I plan on doing nothing! Maybe play Mirrors Edge some more; love me some parkour! Beyond that, nothing of great importance is happening.
Cheers to you all! And thanks for humoring me!
Seriously, I do appreciate you all.
But whatever, it's gotta get done.
Came across this painter from the late 20th, courtesy of 4chan (she strikes again). Dudes name is Zdzisław Beksiński, a Polish fellow with an eye for unimaginably grim surrealism. I'd always been fond of a particular painting of his (unbeknownst to me of course, and pictured below). It's this fellow walking through a crevasse, or canyon or something, and along the walls, towering over this little guy, are menacingly ominous figures just standing there in a row. Some of which look as though they materialize from crows, others holding some kind of object or device entailing God only knows. Such a fantastic piece it is!
(I'm kinda hesitant about uploading works of others on here, but for disclaimers sake, this work of art is property of Zdzisław Beksiński; copyright whenever he painted it)
I kinda think the extended black section was done digitally, I'm not entirely sure the original piece looks this way.
After Googling the majority of his work, that painting sparked some serious creative embers in my brain. I would absolutely love to create a story in and around his paintings, I may one day take a stab at recreating imagery such as this and see if this could turn into something I could get into
Absolutely can not wait to get his book, ought to be a treat!
Issue Two of Periphery is running along fine, I've got my first day off in three weeks this Thursday! I plan on doing nothing! Maybe play Mirrors Edge some more; love me some parkour! Beyond that, nothing of great importance is happening.
Cheers to you all! And thanks for humoring me!
Seriously, I do appreciate you all.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Welcoming The Ides
It's March 1st!
Fuckin A this year is flying.
I've dropped the newest teaser cover on the Bookface, featuring a sneak (well not so sneaky) preview of the cover my friend Adam did for the book. I've had a good long while to look at it, and every time it's still a pretty solid piece, while putting the book together however, I came to the point where I didn't know how to layout those last few pages that were left.
I've got the cover, inside cover, the 24 pages, the ad for the printing company (so you guys will at least know where to go to buy it online) for the inside rear, and then, bam, what do I do with the back of the book?
So I opted to put together a collage of faux cover concepts that didn't make it to the final drawing board, option one seen here:
Nonetheless, it's been a fun process. Issue Two is a third of the way drawn, and that issue may just fall short of 24 pages this time around, depending on how much of the story I want to extrapolate in it. But I'm good on time to reach my projected August 2013 launch date; how fucking cool would it be if I could get a colorist lol.
Anywho!
Cheers folks!!
Fuckin A this year is flying.
I've dropped the newest teaser cover on the Bookface, featuring a sneak (well not so sneaky) preview of the cover my friend Adam did for the book. I've had a good long while to look at it, and every time it's still a pretty solid piece, while putting the book together however, I came to the point where I didn't know how to layout those last few pages that were left.
I've got the cover, inside cover, the 24 pages, the ad for the printing company (so you guys will at least know where to go to buy it online) for the inside rear, and then, bam, what do I do with the back of the book?
So I opted to put together a collage of faux cover concepts that didn't make it to the final drawing board, option one seen here:
Nonetheless, it's been a fun process. Issue Two is a third of the way drawn, and that issue may just fall short of 24 pages this time around, depending on how much of the story I want to extrapolate in it. But I'm good on time to reach my projected August 2013 launch date; how fucking cool would it be if I could get a colorist lol.
Anywho!
Cheers folks!!
Thursday, February 28, 2013
For reallies this time...
I'm going to take a real crack at this, seriously. I haven't done stuff like this since Myspace (anyone still got their profile?), and even then it wasn't that serious.
But anywho.
Where to start? I can go as far back as the beginning of college, or just last week. I'll stick with last week.
For the past four months I've been slaving away at what will be my absolute FIRST comic book, legit shit no doubt. It's called Periphery, and I've been tight-lipped about the details, purposefully, as a means of maintaining intrigue, and to not put too much out there should I fail, that way no one cares. But the book is indeed a HUGE, personal success; the type of attention it'll garner obviously depends on how well I promote it, which brings me to my first dilemma:
MOCCA!
The Museum of Cartoon and Comic Art hosts this annual shindig in the ol' NYC that allows for indie comic artists, and just about anyone alike, to have an awesome venue to promote your shit. I was brought on to the idea by my friend Katarina who resides in this great metropolitan, and sure enough I got the ball rolling; this was last November.
Time presses on and I finish all 24 pages of Issue One. I drew, colored, lettered, and created this damn thing from scratch ( yes, I am indeed fucking proud of it). Elated at my determination to finish this thing, all that remained was for the pieces to fall into place to make this dream a reality; money being the common denominator here. Here are the factors involved: funds to cover the cost of printing, the ticket to New York for April, and other random occurrences that would, well, occur. My first mistake was betting all my eggs on my tax return funds to cover everything, and subsequently, the second mistake was not filling it myself.
The cost of printing was covered; I'm a delivery driver for a sandwich shop, and I had to cover shifts left vacant by a recently let-go driver at the time. So I worked and worked, with a shift or two everyday (I literally mean everyday) for two weeks, nonetheless the tips started accumulating and aided in my savings. Keep in mind, the kicker here is that the printing requires a FULL MONTH of process, print, and shipping to your doorstep, so my window to actually pay for the printing was shrinking drastically.
The first domino fell when my car gave out and required repair (I'm a delivery driver, no car means unemployment), I dropped my entire paycheck on bills (which was originally planned prior to my car woes) and my savings went into repair costs and overruns of bills that had yet to be processed. So that fucking sucked.
The next domino that coincided with the first, was that the guy filing my taxes had only recently processed it, and it would take two weeks for the money to get to me. That's two weeks too late. Ok, so there goes that.
And the train-wreck of shit that followed suit came in the news that I was getting far less than I had earned the previous year, which means that a plane ticket this late in the game was out of the question.
4 months of planning and perseverance fell apart in a weekend.
So MOCCA didn't work out this year, and most of you might say "hey buddy, at least you got a comic out of it right?" Yes, you're correct.
And what else is there for me to do but continue onward and finish the rest of the issues, plan for other conventions and start saving now? Again, you'd be correct.
But since this is my blog, I get to bitch and moan for all who care to listen.
I really do fucking hate circumstances, this was such a complete clusterfuck of circumstances that I can't bring myself to imagine the shit luck that I'm plagued with. I had everything ready to go, and all it took was one fell swoop.
I put a lot of work into this thing, but I very much still plan to print the book and do what I can to promote it here in FL. I've yet to speak to the legendary Tate to have the honor of having the book for sale in his shop. I decided that only after the book has been sent to the printer that I'd ask; no sense in bringing it up to him before that. I really wanted this to happen, it would not only be a huge boost in self-confidence, but also be a great promotional opportunity for me and my art. Yeah yeah there'll be others, but man...
So yeah, there's that. Thanks for reading this, it works for what I need it for, for now. As soon as I familiarize myself with this blog thingy, I plan on posting up like teaser pics and shit of Issue One nearing the time of the book's release, and any other goodies that i'm involved with (I wish I can show you that stuff) . So stay posted, and here's to the future!
Cheers.
But anywho.
Where to start? I can go as far back as the beginning of college, or just last week. I'll stick with last week.
For the past four months I've been slaving away at what will be my absolute FIRST comic book, legit shit no doubt. It's called Periphery, and I've been tight-lipped about the details, purposefully, as a means of maintaining intrigue, and to not put too much out there should I fail, that way no one cares. But the book is indeed a HUGE, personal success; the type of attention it'll garner obviously depends on how well I promote it, which brings me to my first dilemma:
MOCCA!
The Museum of Cartoon and Comic Art hosts this annual shindig in the ol' NYC that allows for indie comic artists, and just about anyone alike, to have an awesome venue to promote your shit. I was brought on to the idea by my friend Katarina who resides in this great metropolitan, and sure enough I got the ball rolling; this was last November.
Time presses on and I finish all 24 pages of Issue One. I drew, colored, lettered, and created this damn thing from scratch ( yes, I am indeed fucking proud of it). Elated at my determination to finish this thing, all that remained was for the pieces to fall into place to make this dream a reality; money being the common denominator here. Here are the factors involved: funds to cover the cost of printing, the ticket to New York for April, and other random occurrences that would, well, occur. My first mistake was betting all my eggs on my tax return funds to cover everything, and subsequently, the second mistake was not filling it myself.
The cost of printing was covered; I'm a delivery driver for a sandwich shop, and I had to cover shifts left vacant by a recently let-go driver at the time. So I worked and worked, with a shift or two everyday (I literally mean everyday) for two weeks, nonetheless the tips started accumulating and aided in my savings. Keep in mind, the kicker here is that the printing requires a FULL MONTH of process, print, and shipping to your doorstep, so my window to actually pay for the printing was shrinking drastically.
The first domino fell when my car gave out and required repair (I'm a delivery driver, no car means unemployment), I dropped my entire paycheck on bills (which was originally planned prior to my car woes) and my savings went into repair costs and overruns of bills that had yet to be processed. So that fucking sucked.
The next domino that coincided with the first, was that the guy filing my taxes had only recently processed it, and it would take two weeks for the money to get to me. That's two weeks too late. Ok, so there goes that.
And the train-wreck of shit that followed suit came in the news that I was getting far less than I had earned the previous year, which means that a plane ticket this late in the game was out of the question.
4 months of planning and perseverance fell apart in a weekend.
So MOCCA didn't work out this year, and most of you might say "hey buddy, at least you got a comic out of it right?" Yes, you're correct.
And what else is there for me to do but continue onward and finish the rest of the issues, plan for other conventions and start saving now? Again, you'd be correct.
But since this is my blog, I get to bitch and moan for all who care to listen.
I really do fucking hate circumstances, this was such a complete clusterfuck of circumstances that I can't bring myself to imagine the shit luck that I'm plagued with. I had everything ready to go, and all it took was one fell swoop.
I put a lot of work into this thing, but I very much still plan to print the book and do what I can to promote it here in FL. I've yet to speak to the legendary Tate to have the honor of having the book for sale in his shop. I decided that only after the book has been sent to the printer that I'd ask; no sense in bringing it up to him before that. I really wanted this to happen, it would not only be a huge boost in self-confidence, but also be a great promotional opportunity for me and my art. Yeah yeah there'll be others, but man...
So yeah, there's that. Thanks for reading this, it works for what I need it for, for now. As soon as I familiarize myself with this blog thingy, I plan on posting up like teaser pics and shit of Issue One nearing the time of the book's release, and any other goodies that i'm involved with (I wish I can show you that stuff) . So stay posted, and here's to the future!
Cheers.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
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