The Ups and Downs of Collaboration

Back in March of last year, I put out a call for comic book collaborators on my website. I've long been interested in comics/graphic novels, and wanted to give it a go. Thinking it would be easier, first time, to concentrate on the drawing side (and not also be solely responsible for the content and writing side), I asked for suggestions from would-be collaborators for subjects we could develop together.

Over the next few months, I received a number of interesting ideas, and whittled these down to a shortlist based on what I thought was interesting to me personally, and might interest others. Figuring that there were likely to be drop-outs and delays, I decided to say yes to a number of project ideas, in the hope that at least one would make it to completion. Sure enough, this is what happened - well, the first part anyway: of the three projects I'd selected, one pulled out because of work commitments, one I simply never heard from again, and one got some way (a script was started and some sketching done), but then again petered out. I still haven't given up hope on all these projects - the last one especially I think has great potential, and I'm still in contact with the writer from time to time (so we'll see). But it just goes to show that, even with three prospective projects, things can fall through.

From that point on, I was still occasionally contacted by people who were interested in developing something. There were a few interesting ideas, but things either petered out again or it seemed to me that the idea wasn't quite right - either it didn't fit my interests (and if I'm going to spend a year drawing something, it needs to), or else it wasn't defined enough. If my little experience of publishing has taught me anything, it's that you need a strong hook to draw people in. It's not enough to say, 'Let's do a comic about golf' (or whatever); you need to be able to refine it into something specific and engaging about some aspect of golf (yeah, well, good luck with that!). This is why it's so hard to develop original ideas. It's easy for would-be writers to be made bitter and paranoid from constant rejection. We may point to the fact that George Orwell, J. K. Rowling, etc, were all rejected by numerous publishers before they found acceptance. And it's true that an idea may have to wait its time to be recognised - even years. However, it's also true that, like those hapless X-Factor hopefuls who ignore Simon Cowell's cutting advice to go back to their day job, we can hang on to an idea that's never going to make it. It's a difficult call. I've been there, and still occasionally like to holiday there (entertaining old ideas that have gone the rounds of rejection). But if you want to make a living, you have to be a bit tough with yourself. It may be, as publishers and agents are fond of saying, that an idea is simply 'not for them' (which may be true, or may be a polite euphemism for 'this is really shit'). And I think that at times the publishing industry is too concerned with what will sell, and with spotting the next big trend (you can thank them for the ceaseless procession of crappy teen-vampire and zombie books and films). But it just might be the case that your idea isn't strong enough.

Anyway, fast forward to April of this year, and I was contacted by Berit Brogaard, a Danish academic living in America. She wanted to use some of my caricatures for her forthcoming psychology book, and wondered how long it would take to produce more. "By when?" I asked. "Tomorrow," she said. When I'd finished laughing, we set about trying to persuade the publisher to give her an extension on her deadline so that I could provide some decent illustrations whilst getting occasional bouts of sleep (you can see some of them in my portfolio). During the course of our correspondence, it turned out that we both liked comics, and both harboured a half-formed wish to do one. We batted some ideas around, and settled on something to do with Freud (a shared interest). Over the next few weeks, this became 'Light in a Darkened Room'.

Since then, there have been a number of things that have threatened to derail the project - and still might - but we've managed to push through, so far. I'm a fairly stubborn and driven person - I'd probably ignore Simon Cowell's advice about most things - but Berit is something on another level altogether. Within 3 weeks she'd produced a first draft of the script, a fledgling book proposal, and all this whilst teaching, writing, and juggling the thousands little things that all of us have to deal with on a daily basis. Often I'd go on Google docs (which we use to share the script), to see her beavering away at an hour so unearthly as to leave it uncertain whether she'd got up early or simply not gone to bed. Anyway, 'force of nature' doesn't quite describe her. Without that energy and determination, I do wonder whether I would have had enough self belief to progress this far. Personal projects are all about self belief: this is why things like NaNoWriMo are so popular, because there develops a sort of collective will - 'we're all in this together' - that pushes people to achieve things that they might not normally think themselves capable of. 'Better together' is certainly true of such things, and for that reason I'm very glad that I chose to do a collaboration for my first comic book project, otherwise I might not have ended up doing one at all.

How to Fund a Comic Book (or Any Other Creative Enterprise), Pt 2: Grants and Awards

Last post I looked at option (1): treating your project as a hobby. On the one hand, this gives you security, but it also takes its toll on your energies and family life, plus it makes progress slow. So, a far more preferable option - if you can make it work - is...

Option (2): Find funding. There are various forms of funding. You may be lucky enough to have extensive savings, independent wealth (a trust fund or a rich, supportive family), a patron who recognises the value of your work, etc, but most of us aren't in this position. Besides, if you are in this position, then you don't really need to be reading this! You could work hard to save up to take a sabbatical from work, or take out a bank loan, but again, this presumes that you are in a position to do so. Even if your employer lets you take time off, it might take you years to save up enough money to support yourself over 6 months or a year (and comic book and other creative projects can take much longer than that). Bank loans are also chancy: you need to be in a secure financial position to be able to pay it back, because you don't want to assume that your project will be financially successful, because that's just a form of very expensive wager - there's not a huge amount of money in comics (or art in general), some notable exceptions aside.

So, let's assume that - like me - none of the above are open to you. What else can you do? We can split this into various sub-options: (2a) Look for grants and awards, (2b) Go the traditional publishing route, (2c) Go the crowdfunding route, or (2d) Seek advertising or sponsorship. For the rest of this post I'll look at the first option.

(2a): Grants and Awards. I live in the UK, so most of what I'm about to say simply reflects my experience - things will no doubt be different in other countries (let me know if they are). Also, I won't pretend that I'm an authority on this route, or that I've exhausted it, but I have gone some way down that road - and found it largely a dead end. However, please feel free to correct me on anything - I would love to be wrong on this occasion!

Firstly, there is public or government funding. In the UK, this mostly means lottery money, a percentage of which supports the arts. This is distributed regionally. Where I live, therefore, arts funding is distributed by the Arts Council of Wales (but there will probably be something similar in your area). The problem with this, however, is that any viable project must be (a) non commercial, and (b) provide public benefit. So, even if I could persuade them that might graphic novel about Sigmund Freud would help engage the public with the arts in Wales, I wouldn't be able to make any direct money from the project (i.e. sell the graphic novel). Also, I would be up against the type of artist that the council was setup to support: the traditional gallery-exhibiting, public space using painter/sculptor/etc. So, if you're a graphic/comic book artist looking to fund a definite product, then this is likely to be an unfruitful option. You could of course try to broaden the scope of your project - the council are keen on collaboration (especially international), on 'exploring' themes and ways of working, so I could have said that I'd travel to the US to work with my collaborator to 'explore Freud's concept of the unconscious in the medium of sequential graphic art' (or something equally dubious), but it seemed to me to be taking me too far from what I wanted to do (make a comic book), and also somewhat dishonest. It's a shame that there's simply no money to fund that simple ambition, but that seems to be the case regarding public money.

However, remember, comics are also a form of writing. So, if you're also scripting your own comic, then you are also eligible for literary grants and bursaries (unfortunately, in this instance, I'm just drawing). For instance, Literature Wales supplies bursaries for just this purpose. This is also public money (made up of lottery, local council and private trust funding), but there seems to be no restriction on commercial publication. So, if you're writing a comic for yourself or someone else, then it might be worth you checking it out (or whatever the equivalent is where you live). Remember, though, that this is a competition - to stand any chance, your project needs to show potential/be some way along, or else you need to show that you have some literary track record (which, again, will debar many first-time creators).

Having struck out with both of these, I moved on to look at private trusts and funding. The Wellcome Trust, who support biomedical research and the medical humanities, have some money to help engage and inform the public about scientific issues. Given that our book is about Freud (and psychology - according to some, anyway - is a science!), then I thought maybe I was in luck. However, once again there is a restriction here to do with commercial exploitation - I couldn't sell the book I'd made.

And this is the problem with private trusts and funding. Each has their own specific set of criteria and priorities. You may indeed be lucky enough to find that you meet those criteria, but often you'll find that there is some public or charitable goal that the money is tied to, or that applications are geared to organisations with those goals in mind. So, you are welcome to plough through the lists of grants that are available - see e.g. Esmee Fairbairn - but there's slim pickings for commercially orientated comic book projects that I can see.

Which isn't to say that there aren't such grants. Until recently, in the US, the Xeric Foundation funded comics creators to self publish (however, as of 2012, they now only fund non-profit or charitable projects). But apart from being hard to find, such grants are also hugely competitive, and you'd be up against established professionals - and being creative and expressing yourself shouldn't really be about winning a competition.

Again, in summary...

Pros: Can dedicate all your time to your project, can treat it like a normal job (time off for leisure and family). Cons: grants are highly competitive, they are difficult to find, and favour those with a track record or who are a certain type of artist.

Reflections on a mini milestone, Part 1

Aside from some abortive attempts over the years, page 1 appears to be my first ever fully realised comic page. Well, 'fully realised' apart from colouring (and publication!). So, it's a milestone of sorts, and - strangely - I did get a mild euphoria on completing it. I know it's flawed, and there are umpteen things I would improve (and will hopefully learn from), but there's also a sort of relief in finally taking a step down a road you've been meaning to travel for years. And, as the saying goes, a thousand mile journey begins with one step. I know, I know - there's also that other saying: One swallow does not a summer make. However, emotionally and mentally, having made that first step, the second is already closer, and the third, and before you know it you're walking (or have a sky full of swallows - sorry, I've confused myself with my own mixed metaphors!). Anyway, my point seems to be, the invisible line between aspiration and realisation is one that can only be crossed by diving in. Or, as the green sage himself would put it: "Do, or do not. There is no try."

So, what have I learned from my one step? Firstly, not to be precious. What stopped me taking that first step for so long was the desire to make things perfect, to only produce something that would meet my highest self-imposed standards. But such an attitude is crippling to creativity. I could wait to be as good as my heroes - Seth Fisher, Arthur Adams, etc - but, to quote another favourite sage of mine, "That's a long wait for a train don't come". So, better to be flawed and productive that perfect and barren.

I think that's enough flowery nonsense concerning motivation. I'll save my technical reflections for Part 2.