Sigh. Yet another comic book industry professional has decided to project his lagging convention sales onto a segment of the community that has nothing to do with his lagging convention sales. In the tradition of ass-candy like Tony Harris and Denise Dorman, Pat Broderick has jumped onto the cosplay-hater bandwagon to whinge on Facebook about cosplayers ruining conventions and mucking with his bottom line.
I’ll have to admit, when I saw this, my very first reaction was “Who?” (Which, in all truth, is probably a bigger indicator of poor con-table performance than some outside force.) Worse even than the original post are some of the comments in the thread. Like, for example, a comic shop owner who, when confronted with a cosplayer looking to find more information on Doctor Strange, kicked said cosplayer out of their booth rather than take the opportunity to sell them some Doctor Strange books. Utterly. Baffling.
In any case, I’m not here to post a take-down or to wax on about cosplayer’s place in the comic community. There are plenty of bloggers and sites like The Mary Sue to take care of that. I’m just here to offer a simple, common-sense suggestion for artists like Mr. Broderick: If conventions aren’t profitable for you, stop going to them.
It really is that simple. We talked about this on the Trade Secrets Podcast shortly after the Denise Dorman incident, but I’ll reiterate here: From an artist or writer’s standpoint, convention attendance shouldn’t be looked at as a primary income stream. If you can’t afford to attend a convention – with everything that entails, from buying table space to travel to hotels and food – based on the primary income you make from your actual job, then don’t fucking go.
The benefits of con attendance are much more ephemeral than whether you can pay for your booth with sketch sales. Interacting with fans, taking pictures with the cosplayers who show up dressed as characters you draw and/or created, and signing books for people… that’s why you’re there. Conventions are for fans. They’re not for industry professionals. They’re not built for you to make money, they’re built for fans to meet and interact with the people who create the foundation of their favorite hobby. And, frankly, cosplayers are probably the most hardcore element of that fandom.
If I show up at your table at a convention, it is entirely likely that I already own a good chunk of your work. I’m probably not going to buy much merch from your table, because that’s not what I’m looking for. Sure, I’ll pick up the occasional special convention edition of a book or, when I’m extremely flush with cash, a piece of original art. But my con-going time is spent on interactions and signings, because I’ve already spent hundreds of dollars on a badge, hotel, travel, parking, and food just to be on the convention floor to meet you.
That time, that interaction, can make or break whether I ever buy your work in the future. I’ve had legendary negative experiences with the likes of J. Scott Campbell and Rob Leifeld, which led to me never spending a cent on their work again. On the opposite side, ECCC has given me amazing interactions with people like Cullen Bunn, Brian Hurtt, Kurtis Weibe, Ed Brisson, Kelly Sue DeConnick, Matt Fraction, Chip Zdarsky, Terry & Rachel Dodson, Brian JL Glass, Jordie Bellaire, and innumerable others that have solidified my desire to purchase every piece of writing or art they generate.
Those interactions are why you, the comics industry professional (take special note of that particular word the next time you feel the desire to rant about the fans of your work), are at these conventions. You may not directly pay for your convention attendance through sales at that very convention, but your appearance there and treatment of the fans both at the convention and online will have a huge effect on whether you sell more books to those people in the long run.
But it’s really not that hard to figure this out: If the math ain’t right, don’t fucking show up. If those intangible benefits aren’t worth the tangible hit to your wallet, then you shouldn’t go. Pretty damned plain and simple. Good fans – real fans – are never going to fault you for saying “Sorry, guys. I just can’t afford this one.” If your mindset surrounding convention attendance is “I better sell enough to pay for this trip.”, you’re doing it wrong.
Spend the time you’re not at the convention working on making yourself more relevant to the current state of the industry so that you can make more money creating art. If no one is coming to your table, it’s not the con attendees that are the problem.
