I've been in something of a dry spell lately. Sometimes, I think about the old days, when I was drowning in requests for my attention, and I wonder if what I have to offer just not as attractive as it used to be. I've heard that the Internet is a good way to connect with people, so I'm giving that a try. It makes rejection harder for some reason—maybe it's the immediacy—but the pool of prospects has widened somewhat. But, often, they're too inexperienced or they have unrealistic expectations—or they're just not what I'm looking for—and a woman can't sacrifice her needs, even if she is getting a little desperate.

Hm? I'm talking about the SLG Publishing slush pile, of course. It's been...well, let's just say it's been a lot easier to manage lately than it used to be. It seems that fewer submissions arrive every week, and what we do get is not appropriate for us, either because the style or content is just not what we publish, or the work is of beginners who aren't quite ready for publication.

I've been thinking about why that is, and I've come to the conclusion that the reason is the answer to all life's imponderables these days: It is the Internet's fault. Actually, it is the fault of two polarities in the publishing world, one of which is the Internet.

On one end there is the theoretically egalitarian and democratic Internet, where artists can form comics cooperatives such as ACT-I-VATE, The Chemistry Set, and Girl-a-Matic. At these sites, comics can gain readers according to the artists' own promotional ability and the appeal of their work. (A corollary to the Internet is Internet-based print-on-demand, like Lulu.com, which allows artists to print their own comics and graphic novels in small quantities.) Small press publishers, which used to be the go-to places for artists like those in comics co-ops, instantly appear old-fogeyish and unnecessary in comparison.

On the other end are large publishers that, aware of that graphic novels are one of a few areas in the industry showing sales growth, have actively been pursuing graphic novels for the past few years. Among them are Scholastic, First:Second (an imprint of Roaring Brook Press, a division of the distinguished Holtzbrinck Publisher Group) and Pantheon (an imprint publishing giant Random House). In comparison to these publishers, which offer prestige, recognition, and money, small publishers appear kind of like the skinny guy in old Charles Atlas ads.

So what to do? There's no use trying to compete with the big publishers when we can't offer what they do. (And there are no coupons to clip and send off to get a book that will teach us how to make us into "a new man.") We have to convince talented Web comic artists that it's worth going after that publishing contract, but with our policy of being unfailingly honest about monetary prospects, that's a difficult proposition.

After years of being in the privileged position, small comics publishers might be discovering what it's like on the other side. More and more, I feel like we have to sell the company to artists. As I write this, I'm preparing to attend the Alternative Press Expo this weekend. As usual, I'll be on the look-out for mini-comics by talented artists. But if I were to ask if an artist to pitch a project to us, and he or she asked, "Why should I?" what would I say?

Actually, I can answer that question: I would probably sputter in some kind of affronted way. (I work in comics, so my dignity is delicate.) And that would be the wrong reaction. I have to remember: the tables are turned. I'm not doing a favor, I'm asking for one. And without tangibles like market position or substantial advances, I'm left with intangibles: branding, editing services, industry experience and know-how, and the ever-popular and potentially vague "Hollywood contacts." (Having just observed the flurry of phone calls, offers and counter-offers that was the deal with Paramount for Agnes Quill, I can tell you, you want people on your side in these things.)

But on a more personal note, I would say, that if we decided to publish your work, you would get to work with people who believe in you. You would know that, despite the difficulties and misgivings you might have as you work in comics (and believe me, there will be difficulties and misgivings, to say the least), someone was willing to back your work with their own effort, money, and energy.

That has to be worth something, right?

Jennifer de Guzman is editor-in-chief at the independent comics publisher SLG Publishing. She also writes fiction—mostly in prose, occasionally in comics—and holds an M.F.A. in literature and creative writing from San Jose State University. The opinions expressed are her own and not necessarily those of Publishers Weekly or PW Comics Week.