Life in Comics: A Sample for Primary Source Interpretation
by Jennifer de Guzman -- Publishers Weekly, 8/4/2008 3:16:00 PM
Chief's Log—Comic-Con International, San Diego, Calif.
Dateline 2312: Since the Great Fire of Internet Servers in 2066 destroyed documentation in the form of "web logs," anthropologists have been struggling to piece together how ordinary people lived in the mysterious decades of the early-to-mid-21st century. Primary source documents that survived because they were written, inexplicably, on paper, are an invaluable resource for answering questions like these. This account of an annual convention known as "Comic-Con" was written by an editor for a small independent publishing company. Based on its contents and supporting documentation, we can surmise that she attended no big industry parties, mingled minimally and was of a rather mercurial and melancholic disposition. The remaining pages of the notebook in which this document was found are filled with what seems to be a draft of part of a novel, an archaic written storytelling form. Her experiences provide a glimpse into the mundanities of a lost time. Explanatory notes have been added where appropriate.
July 22
2 p.m.
Have arrived at the San Diego. Spotted on way to convention center: a sign that says that by being present at a particular street corner that happens to have the sign on it, I am granting Sony Pictures the right to use my image "without credit or compensation." Profane words about Hollywood* exclaimed.
*Hollywood, in the early 21st century, was shorthand for the mass movie industry. This was before the Pan-California fire/earthquake/flood of 2173 destroyed civilization on the West Coast. As we know, the movie industry is now centered in Park City, Utah.
6:30 p.m.
Hung T-shirts and artwork, shelved books and now am sweaty, tired and, surprise, irritable. The plan is: change clothes, eat, soak in hot tub.
11 p.m.
Plan accomplished. The Daily Show* provides proof outside world still exists.
*An early 21st century political television show, much like our time's The Interplanetary Smug Intellectuals Show.
July 23
5:30 p.m.
Preview Night opened just as I realized the pimple on my cheek is going to grow to truly volcanic proportions.
7 p.m.
Dan* decides he must withdraw from society for a while.
*Dan Vado, president of SLG Publishing.
8:45 p.m.
Left booth early to order food—it's pizza poolside on Preview Night. Which, incidentally, was insanely busy. People acted like there would be no comics for the next four days. I suppose that's good.
July 24
9:30 a.m.
In booth for first Con day proper. Rode the elevator with Sergio Aragones*. He inquired when the hall opened. I told him, and he said, "Ay ay ay!" I said, "That's what I said."
*A cartoonist of Mexican origin, known for drawing at lightning speeds.
11:45 a.m.
Waiting outside Room 10 to start my panel with Randal Jarrell*, "How Not to Break into Comics." The line of attendees is insane. I think they must be waiting for something else.
*Managing editor at the publisher Oni Press
Noon
No, these people are all here to see us. Stan Lee* just walked out of the room. The prior panel was about LGBT issues in comics. "He must have been talking about how the X-Men are a metaphor," I said.
*Stan Lee requires no glossing; however, the reader should note that the Stan Lee the author writes of was the original, not one of the subsequent clones that are so ubiquitous in our everyday life.
1:10 p.m.
Randal and I rocked our panel. Standing-room-only and everyone seemed engaged. Ways not to break into comics that we talked about: not dedicating yourself to the medium, not developing your talent, not educating yourself about publishers and being a weirdo or a jerk. Let's see how portfolio reviews go for the rest of the Con.
4 p.m.
Got as far as the Drawn and Quarterly booth. Talked about storytelling and The Epic of Gilgamesh with Lynda Barry! "Storytelling—I think it was as hard to come by as these," she said, wiggling her thumbs. "And it's just as much a part of who we are."
5 p.m.
An artist asked about getting a graphic novel published. Gave him the submission guidelines. He looked them over and said, "Why should I have to do all this? It's already finished." Honestly couldn't speak for a second, then said, "Look, if you don't want to do it, feel free not to." He didn't catch the sarcasm and responded, "I guess I'll send something in whenever I get around to it." Felt like tearing the guidelines out of his hand and saying, "Don't ever darken our post office box with your attitude." I should have.*
*This, and the previous comment about "weirdos and jerks" reveals an expectation of behavior in human interaction during the 21st century that can appear highly idealized and unrealistic to modern readers not schooled in ancient history.
9 p.m.
Room service at the hot tub, where I'm soaking my feet. I think I'll be a homebody at this convention. I really don't feel like partying.
July 25
10 a.m.
A young woman stopped by to ask if I'd read and what I think of the minicomic she gave me yesterday. She was very nice, but, again, I was momentarily speechless. I'm going to end the convention mute if this keeps up.
11:30 a.m.
Got cornered by a woman who wanted to effuse about her nephew's artistic talent. Guess I let my boredom show too clearly because she left off abruptly and hurried away.
People keep assuming I'm not the person to talk to. Even though I wore my favorite business lady plaid pencil skirt.
1 p.m.
#@*%.
3 p.m.
Some dude asked to take my picture. I said, "No, please don't."* He found this amusing.
*In the early 21st century, the expectation of privacy was already fast eroding, but this remains as a quaint reminder of its existence.
Midnight
Brian* and I embarked on our own to eat Thai food and Pinkberry. Tried to do some brainstorming in a cafe, but it was taken over by drunk luchadorsand the even drunker women who love them. We're back at the hotel.
*The author's husband and apparently long-suffering collaborator.
July 26
9:15 a.m.
FSc* unexpectedly appeared at the booth, bearing gifts and her shy, pixie-ish brand of sweetness. I got a vial of homemade bath salt.
*This is the same FSc who is now revered in certain parts of Southeast Asia with shrines of handmade jewelry and drawings of monsters.
2 p.m.
Started my sketchbook, finally. The theme is "Sea Creatures."
4 p.m.
Derek Hunter* introduced a friend who submitted a comic to us. I recognized the project as one of those that added to my frustration with victimized female characters. A deep breath, a moment of mental steadying, and then I told him. Later, when Derek apologized for putting me on the spot, I said, "If I'm willing to write it to someone, I have to be willing to say it to their face." That's is the lesson for this Comic-Con, I think.
*A comic book artist, also known at the time as "The Most Popular Guy in the Room."
7 p.m.
Gossiped a bit—okay, a lot—with Randal at the Oni booth. Anthropologists say that gossip serves an important social function, evolutionary biologists call it as a survival skill, so I'm not going to feel bad.*
*This entry and the one prior reveal another quaint reminder—in this instance of a time when people thought they had to justify or eliminate "bad" behavior.
11 p.m.
Returned to hotel from SLG dinner with the crew, Jhonen* and Pat from Lebonfon.* Dan told groan-inducing jokes. Vegetable moussaka inedible. Drunk luchadors continue to aggressively occupy cafe. Suddenly very much against human contact.
* Jhonen Vasquez, apparently an artist of some sort.
*Imprimerie Lebonfon, a printer in Quebec.
July 27
3 p.m.
Portfolio from a duo with a "fully developed universe." Little else developed, though. I tell them to concentrate on drawing and storytelling.
9 p.m.
The convention closed at five, teardown of booth complete. I hate teardown. Lost my temper, fumed, silently seethed. Maturity FTW.??
July 28
12:30 a.m.
Back at the hotel after sitting in a state of mopiness while others drank. It'll be my first flight home from San Diego without a hangover. That's something. Comic-Con, there you went.
