Author: Luke M.

Luke Matthews is a writer, board gamer, beer drinker, and all-around geek. He currently lives in the Seattle area with his wife, two cats, and two German wirehaired pointers.
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Authors vs. Authors

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Being new to the whole “publishing a novel” thingy, I’m still and repeatedly baffled by the “trad-pub vs. self-pub” battle lines. Ever since I began querying agents, not a week has gone by that I haven’t seen one side condescend to the other and/or blow a gasket over perceived condescension. It’s simultaneously entralling and baffling.

The most fascinating thing about the whole debate is that 99% of the time, the humongous corporations that “back” either “side” sit back and say nothing, while the individual authors go at each other’s throats like roosters in a cock-fight. The popular voice of traditionally published authors decries self-publishing and berates Amazon as an evil, monopolistic giant, while the popular voice of author-publishers rails against the draconian, iron-fisted author-shafting of the Big 5 Publishers.

What amazes me the most is that no one really sees how alike these arguments have become. None of these authors seem to take note of how individual authors aren’t only putting down one another for their choice of publishing path, but rushing to the defense of *multi-billion dollar corporate entities*. News flash: Corporations don’t give a flying fuck about individuals.

One of the most common condescensions is to put down an author’s choice by “warning” them against how badly screwed they could be by the machine they’ve shackled themselves to. And the arguments sound so fantastically alike, that I just watch and wonder if authors in these arguments realize they’re making the exact same argument from only slightly different angles.

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Review: Southern Bastards #1

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I grew up in the Pacific Northwest. My exposure to the rest of the United States has been limited, mostly to vacations and short road trips. I’ve spent my entire life in Oregon and Washington, so I am keenly attuned to the quirks and flow of Northwest life. It’s a strange little place.

southern_bastards_review_01Almost all of my exposure to life in the deep South comes from fiction and media. I don’t have a lot of friends from there, and even my family primarily comes from the Midwest, although my dad spent a lot of time in New Mexico (New Mexico is it’s own, oddball world, though). The vast majority of southern fiction depicts a strange place, simultaneously intricately woven into the core American landscape and yet fundamentally separated from it. It’s a place of bible-thumpers and redneck gun-nuts and croc wrestlers and high-school football and barbecue. A place that rumbles a primal fear in as many people as romanticize it.

A place that the two Jasons – Aaron and Latour – are intimately familiar with.

That familiarity oozes into the atmosphere of their new Image book Southern Bastards. The story of Earl Tubb’s return to his home in Craw County, Alabama after forty years away bleeds that atmosphere, that knowledge, from every word bubble and every line. Aaron doesn’t hit you over the head with over-the-top vernacular, instead just sprinkling in the flavor of everyday speech – a man that still calls his father “daddy”; a waitress who calls her customer “hon”. It’s nice to see a depiction of rural southern speech that isn’t a caricature; the same deep yokel-speak that’s peppered through a lot of fiction set there.

Latour uses a deft touch in representing Craw County in a way that makes it feel unique. Much like the dialogue, there’s just enough flavor to show us the environment without feeling like a pastiche: a post-clock across from the brick facades of the town’s main street; the wood-panel siding surrounding the order window at the local barbecue joint; the muted greens and browns of a countryside that looks decidedly unfamiliar to someone like me, a born-and-bred Pacific Northwesterner.

southern_bastards_review_02Earl’s homecoming is an uncomfortable one, a man returning to the place he’d grown up, now as much outsider as native. It’s a theme Jason Aaron is comfortable with, having honed his voice on his Eisner-nominated series Scalped. He pulls from that same well to give Southern Bastards it’s tension, the tightening-noose feeling of a man who just has a simple thing to do in a place he never wanted to be getting dragged into a situation he should’ve avoided all along.

Earl Tubb is part Ed Tom Bell, part Buford Pusser, and if this first issue tells us anything, it’s that things are going to get a lot worse for him before they get better. Aaron’s trademark slow-burn tension is well complimented by Latour’s oppressive, almost claustrophobic atmosphere. In the few words that Earl Tubb utters during this first issue he’s somehow already endeared to us, with such economy and subtlety that, by the time the issue is over, the hooks are set deep.

I have a lot of faith in Aaron’s storytelling capabilities. And, I’ll say it: I think his collaboration with Jason Latour has the makings of an even better partnership than what he had with R.M. Guerra. If you’re looking for a fine piece of Southern noir, and something completely different from any other book you’re reading right now, go pick up Southern Bastards.

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No, Dude, You’re the Problem

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Comic books have had a long, hard road toward the success and popularity they enjoy today. I’ve been a comic book fan since I was a little kid – almost thirty years. I’ve seen the way the industry has grown and changed, and been through the ringer for my fandom. I’ve been jeered at, insulted, and generally ostracized for being into comic books.

Finally, now, after all those years, comics have reached a popularity that most of us never thought possible. As a kid I fully expected to spend the rest of my life ashamed of my hobby or angry at the attitudes directed at me. A world where the medium was never taken seriously, and where any adaptations of my favorite characters were Troma-level throwaways or spoofs. To live in a world where comic-book conventions regularly sell out huge venues and the highest grossing movies of our time are based on those characters is a fucking wonderland.

And then, in a listicle published on a site called WhatCulture by author Kev Stewart, this bullshit comes along:

cool_comic_fans

First off, let me say that I don’t put a hell of a lot of stock in these sorts of lists, especially on sites like Distractify or WhatCulture or Buzzfeed. Almost all of the “…only [blank] would understand.” articles read like they were written by someone who wouldn’t qualify for the target audience of the article, and who found most of their arguments via an cursory Google search. This one is no different.

But this #1 on the list really has it’s misrepresentation cake and eats it too. Let me start by addressing the premise of the list and this entry’s place on it:

23 Problems Only Comic Book Readers Will Understand

(My emphasis)

Without addressing any of the other issues with this entry, I ask: Why on Earth would a long time comic book fan see the growing mainstream popularity of our favorite entertainment medium as a “problem”? The integration of comic books into widespread popular culture means that fans of the medium will have everything we’ve always wanted: more money in the industry, better adaptations, more consideration of comics as serious entertainment, and – best of all – more people to talk to about it. Why would this be a bad thing?

Growing up, most comic book readers have been mocked, laughed at and outright abused by those around them for being “geeks” and “nerds”

Yes, you’re right: many of us were mocked and derided for our interests by people who didn’t know better. Much of that derision came from a place of ignorance – as it frequently does. Mainstreaming comic books means that more people know more about the stories that we love so much, which leads to – guess what – less ignorance and likely less ridicule. A kid nowadays has more access to more comics in more forms than any of us ever did, and can indulge in that hobby with more confidence than ever. I’m not saying that the insults and mockery have stopped, but a modern comic fan has way more arguments for the validity of their interest in the eyes of a mainstream heckler than ever before.

Either way, after years of the aforementioned abuse, to see hot girls dressed as comic book characters, Marvel and DC characters appearing on fashionable clothing items in high street stores and actors and celebrities almost relentlessly proclaiming their love of specific comic books is something of a bummer for those who have been fans and readers of comics for years.

My god, this reads like satire. Is this supposed to be some weird hipster irony bullshit? All of the things mentioned are blatant positives, but there’s one thing in particular I want to talk about, and that is the author’s attempt to shame people for liking comics. This whole list item, and most of the article, smacks of the same “fake geek girl” crap that we’ve seen crop up in the last several years, and it’s horseshit.

This paragraph serves no purpose but to perpetuate the same comic book nerd stereotype that used to force comic book readers into some sort of fan closet in the first place. To insinuate that because a woman is attractive or an actor is popular their love of comics is somehow “less than” is infuriating. This same kind of nerd-shaming is what kept fans from outwardly expressing their fandom for years, and made us feel like outcasts in the first place. The popularization of comic books has led to a) long-time fans being able to “come out”, as it were, with far less risk of ridicule and b) legitimized the hobby in the eyes of many, thus drawing in brand-new fans. Explain to me, again, why any of this would be a “bummer”?

and yet now it’s suddenly cool to be associated with comics.

“Suddenly”? Within the comic book industry, attempts to legitimize the sequential artform have been occurring since long before I was a fan; long before I was born. Only once the artform itself began to be recognized as something beyond just “funny-books” could the legitimization of its fandom begin. The shift from nerd-hobby to mainstream success has been in the making for decades, so espousing the idea that this shift is even remotely “sudden” destroys whatever marginal credibility this author had with me in the first place.

Lists like this are, ostensibly, meant to draw nodding approval from those “in the know” in that “it’s funny ’cause it’s true” sort of way. The first one I ever saw was a list of “things only introverts will understand”, and that archetype quickly exploded to cover every single niche in society from “feminists” to “short guys” to “movie nuts” to “women with small breasts”. Most of these sorts of list miss the mark at least a little bit, but I’ve never before encountered one that ended on such an irritatingly off-key note as this one.

To steal a phrase that’s been going around the internet lately: Comics Are For Everyone. To try and shoehorn it back into some unwelcoming, elitist, nerd-hobby that shuns someone because they don’t meet some sort of arbitrary “cred” actually works to harm all of the work that’s been done to bring comics to the forefront. New fans and the mainstreaming of comics aren’t the problem, Kev – you are.

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No, Dude, You’re The Problem

  By ,

Comic books have had a long, hard road toward the success and popularity they enjoy today. I’ve been a comic book fan since I was a little kid – almost thirty years. I’ve seen the way the industry has grown and changed, and been through the ringer for my fandom. I’ve been jeered at, insulted, and generally ostracized for being into comic books.

Finally, now, after all those years, comics have reached a popularity that most of us never thought possible. As a kid I fully expected to spend the rest of my life ashamed of my hobby or angry at the attitudes directed at me. A world where the medium was never taken seriously, and where any adaptations of my favorite characters were Troma-level throwaways or spoofs. To live in a world where comic-book conventions regularly sell out huge venues and the highest grossing movies of our time are based on those characters is a fucking wonderland.

And then, in a listicle published on a site called WhatCulture by author Kev Stewart, this bullshit comes along:

cool_comic_fans

First off, let me say that I don’t put a hell of a lot of stock in these sorts of lists, especially on sites like Distractify or WhatCulture or Buzzfeed. Almost all of the “…only [blank] would understand.” articles read like they were written by someone who wouldn’t qualify for the target audience of the article, and who found most of their arguments via an cursory Google search. This one is no different.

But this #1 on the list really has it’s misrepresentation cake and eats it too. Let me start by addressing the premise of the list and this entry’s place on it:

23 Problems Only Comic Book Readers Will Understand

(My emphasis)

Without addressing any of the other issues with this entry, I ask: Why on Earth would a long time comic book fan see the growing mainstream popularity of our favorite entertainment medium as a “problem”? The integration of comic books into widespread popular culture means that fans of the medium will have everything we’ve always wanted: more money in the industry, better adaptations, more consideration of comics as serious entertainment, and – best of all – more people to talk to about it. Why would this be a bad thing?

Growing up, most comic book readers have been mocked, laughed at and outright abused by those around them for being “geeks” and “nerds”

Yes, you’re right: many of us were mocked and derided for our interests by people who didn’t know better. Much of that derision came from a place of ignorance – as it frequently does. Mainstreaming comic books means that more people know more about the stories that we love so much, which leads to – guess what – less ignorance and likely less ridicule. A kid nowadays has more access to more comics in more forms than any of us ever did, and can indulge in that hobby with more confidence than ever. I’m not saying that the insults and mockery have stopped, but a modern comic fan has way more arguments for the validity of their interest in the eyes of a mainstream heckler than ever before.

Either way, after years of the aforementioned abuse, to see hot girls dressed as comic book characters, Marvel and DC characters appearing on fashionable clothing items in high street stores and actors and celebrities almost relentlessly proclaiming their love of specific comic books is something of a bummer for those who have been fans and readers of comics for years.

My god, this reads like satire. Is this supposed to be some weird hipster irony bullshit? All of the things mentioned are blatant positives, but there’s one thing in particular I want to talk about, and that is the author’s attempt to shame people for liking comics. This whole list item, and most of the article, smacks of the same “fake geek girl” crap that we’ve seen crop up in the last several years, and it’s horseshit.

This paragraph serves no purpose but to perpetuate the same comic book nerd stereotype that used to force comic book readers into some sort of fan closet in the first place. To insinuate that because a woman is attractive or an actor is popular their love of comics is somehow “less than” is infuriating. This same kind of nerd-shaming is what kept fans from outwardly expressing their fandom for years, and made us feel like outcasts in the first place. The popularization of comic books has led to a) long-time fans being able to “come out”, as it were, with far less risk of ridicule and b) legitimized the hobby in the eyes of many, thus drawing in brand-new fans. Explain to me, again, why any of this would be a “bummer”?

and yet now it’s suddenly cool to be associated with comics.

“Suddenly”? Within the comic book industry, attempts to legitimize the sequential artform have been occurring since long before I was a fan; long before I was born. Only once the artform itself began to be recognized as something beyond just “funny-books” could the legitimization of its fandom begin. The shift from nerd-hobby to mainstream success has been in the making for decades, so espousing the idea that this shift is even remotely “sudden” destroys whatever marginal credibility this author had with me in the first place.

Lists like this are, ostensibly, meant to draw nodding approval from those “in the know” in that “it’s funny ’cause it’s true” sort of way. The first one I ever saw was a list of “things only introverts will understand”, and that archetype quickly exploded to cover every single niche in society from “feminists” to “short guys” to “movie nuts” to “women with small breasts”. Most of these sorts of list miss the mark at least a little bit, but I’ve never before encountered one that ended on such an irritatingly off-key note as this one.

To steal a phrase that’s been going around the internet lately: Comics Are For Everyone. To try and shoehorn it back into some unwelcoming, elitist, nerd-hobby that shuns someone because they don’t meet some sort of arbitrary “cred” actually works to harm all of the work that’s been done to bring comics to the forefront. New fans and the mainstreaming of comics aren’t the problem, Kev – you are.

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Review: Sheltered #8

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The first time I spoke with Ed Brisson about Sheltered was shortly after we interviewed him for Trade Secrets at Emerald City Comicon in 2013. At the time I thought the concept was really cool, but I was wary about how he might be able to pull it off. It was a narrow concept; a story set in a closed intentional community, and I couldn’t really wrap my head around what would drive the story beyond a group of paranoid preppers yelling at each other.

Holy shit, have they pulled it off.

sheltered_08_review_01The first of Brisson’s work I read was his 5-issue time-travel crime story Comeback. One of the things that makes Comeback so fantastic is the purposeful narrowing if it’s scope. It doesn’t concern itself with the end of the world or universe-destroying paradoxes or even the nitty gritty of sci-fi time travel science. It instead focuses on character moments and an intense crime story that happens to have a sci-fi twist.

And that’s exactly what he’s done with Sheltered. Sheltered‘s focus on character moments and minor crises is what keeps me turning pages. Lucas, the prepper colony’s de-facto leader after his coup in the first two issues, is a true believer in his cause. That belief makes him almost sympathetic at times, but fucking scary all the time. As we watch Lucas’s plan fall down around his ears, we’re given other characters to root for (Victoria), and even worse ones to hate (Curt).

Issue #7 set up the beginning of a chaos that Lucas can’t even hope to reign in. Issue #8 brings it all to a head, and builds to one of the best final page cliffhangers I’ve read in a while. It’s been a long time since I’ve stared wide-eyed at every page of a book, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and that’s exactly how I read Sheltered #8. After I finished, I actually uttered an out-loud “Oh… shit.”

Somehow, artist Johnnie Christmas has crawled into Brisson’s brain and pulled all of that tension out onto the page. Christmas’s art isn’t the clean-lined, cross-hatched work of a major superhero book. His linework has a grit to it that evokes more horror film than action flick, lending the perfect atmosphere to the cold claustrophobia of Safe Haven. His masterful touch with facial expression allows him to take “talking head” pages and imbue them with emotion that elevates the dialogue well beyond just the words being said. Couple that linework with Shari Chankhama’s fantastic, unique colors, and everything just falls into place.

sheltered_08_review_02Issue #8 lets us finally see a pressure valve open, venting just a bit of the tension that’s been building from the start, only to show us that it hasn’t released, only shifted position. Somehow, the creative team has diverted our attention from Lucas’s horrible takeover to Curt’s dangerously manic immaturity, and has us all holding our breath until we can be returned to the comparative normalcy of Safe Haven’s madness.

Sheltered, from the get-go, has been a slow burn. It has, thankfully, been allowed to evolve at a natural rate, and has done so without constant re-hashes or reminders of what’s going on. We’ve been given the opportunity to feel the fear and anxiety and paranoia of Safe Haven build into suspenseful nightmare, and it hasn’t even hit its peak yet. This is a fantastic book. Go buy it.

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Weekly Pulls, April 17th

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Yet again I’ve been lax in my supposed “weekly” pulls article. I don’t really have any excuse, and can only apologize and vow to do better. I have pretty terrible timing for returning to it, as well, considering that literally nothing I subscribe to comes out this week. Out of 20+ books I collect every month, not one of them comes out this week. Which means, I guess, that next week will be HUGE.

Luckily, this doesn’t mean I don’t have recommendations. The books that would normally go in my “Honorable Mentions” section will just shift to being this week’s focus. So first, I’d like to talk about…

stray_bullets_killers_2_coverStray Bullets: The Killers #2. Full disclosure: I knew nothing about Stray Bullets prior to its re-launch. With all the hype surrounding it, and several friends recommending it, I bought the Uber Alles Edition sight-unseen. And let me tell you, it’s worth the hype. One of the best, and most influential, crime books around, I wholeheartedly recommend getting into The Killers while it’s young, and picking up the previous run of Stray Bullets however you can.

PrintSex Criminals Vol 1: One Weird Trick. What a fantastic book Sex Criminals is, as evidenced by my review of issue #1. A hilarious premise perfectly executed results in one of the funniest, and simultaneously most heartwarming, books on the stands. If you haven’t been reading this in singles, first off what the hell, and secondly go pick up this trade immediately.

ms_marvel_3_coverMs. Marvel #3. Now, I’m not normally one to recommend Big 2 books, as I’m sure you know. After reading the first issue of G. Willow Wilson’s new Ms. Marvel book, though, I can’t help but recommend it. The comics world – especially the Big 2 – needs more books that center around non-white, non-male protagonists. Ms. Marvel does so brilliantly, and hits all the right notes in the process. Everyone should check it out.

Honorable Mentions: Stray Bullets: The Killers #2, Sex Criminals TP Vol 1: One Weird Trick, and Ms. Marvel #3
Luke’s Picks for April 17th, 2014: Ummm…

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Comic Conventions and ECCC

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My first experience at a comic book convention was in Portland, Oregon, within a few weeks of the launch of Image Comics. The show took place in a gutted department store at one end of a mall, and five of the six Image founders were in attendance (they were sans Erik Larsen). I can trace my hardcore comic fandom directly to that show, and to my overwhelmingly positive experiences meeting Jim Lee, Todd McFarlane, and Marc Silvestri. Spawn #1 had not yet released but I was a huge fan of McFarlane’s Spider-Man, and when 13-year-old me got to tell him so, he actually pulled me behind his signing table and talked with me for 15 minutes about comics, the Blazers, and Spidey. It was a formative moment for me.

In the late-80’s and early-90’s, meeting creators from your favorite Marvel and DC books was not an easy endeavor. The guys in charge of some of the most iconic characters of all time were cloistered and egomaniacal (from a fan’s perspective), and experiences like my moment with Todd McFarlane were almost impossible to track down. Back then, when San Diego Comicon was still actually about comics, creators never really seemed to be encouraged to engage their fans on a personal level. Even this experience, I believe, was only possible because the founders of Image were already trying to change how the industry worked.

I began to understand why these experiences were unavailable during a trip to a comic book convention at Seattle Center when I was in high-school, in (I think) 1994. It was a tiny show, occupying only two rooms, with a smattering of artists and writers around the edges signing autographs. I had sketches done by Dan Norton and Joe Benitez, milled around the back issue bins, and finally – after waiting what seemed like forever – got to meet and get a signature from Walt Simonson.

As I neared the front of the line, it was obvious that several of the people in front of me were comics dealers. Every one of them had stacks upon stacks of comics for signing, including multiple copies of the same book, and manners were nonexistent. Mr. Simonson was visibly frustrated. The straw broke the camel’s back with the guy in front of me, who plopped down a stack of easily fifty-plus books, and began smarming at Mr. Simonson as though the two of them were on the golf links together.

In one of the most memorable moments of my life, Walt Simonson stared this guy down as he jabbered, stopped him from talking with a raised hand, and said “Excuse me. When did I give you leave to address me in the familiar?” He then took the top book off of this guy’s stack, signed it, replaced it, slid the entire rest of the stack to the side, and waived me up to get his signature.

This, for me, encapsulated everything that was wrong with the comics industry in the 90’s. At age 16, that moment changed how I looked at the books I bought and read. Over the next couple of months I completely changed my buying habits, shifting my entire mentality away from seeing comics as collectibles, and seeing them now as entertainment media.

At all the comic book conventions I had attended throughout the 90’s, I walked away with maybe 15 signed books. At that time, conventions that weren’t NYCC or SDCC were dealer’s shows, populated entirely by comic book shops and collectors plying their wares, with the occasional small group of creators as a draw for fans to come into a giant comic book flea market. I had very few positive experiences with creators after the one with Todd McFarlane, mostly because the creators I was meeting desperately wanted to be interacting with fans, and most of their interaction ended up being with people trying to make a quick buck.

We’re going to skip a few years, because in 1996 the vast majority of my comic book collection burned up in an apartment fire, and I bailed on comics entirely until the middle of 2002. Once I was back into comics, I found a dearth of local comic book conventions. I’d been to a few smaller ones like the Walt Simonson was at, but nothing really compared in scale to the larger ones in New York, Chicago, or San Diego. Talent didn’t really come up this way, so I pretty much gave up on the idea of getting anything signed again or interacting with my favorite creators in any meaningful way.

Until Emerald City Comicon came along.

I didn’t attend the first few years of the current incarnation of ECCC. They were held at the Qwest Field Event Center, and I didn’t really hold out much hope for them being any different than the shows at Seattle Center had been. The first time I attended was in 2008, the first year they held the show at the Washington State Convention Center, the same venue where PAX Prime is held. They occupied only two halls in the WSCC, and one of those halls was solely for the queue. In spite of the (comparatively) small size, one of the things that struck me about ECCC was the atmosphere.

Around half, if not more, of the space they occupied was dedicated to Artist’s Alley. Yes, there were exhibitors in the hall – all the local comic shops were there, a couple of video game dealers, and small booths for Dark Horse and Image – but the real focus, it seemed, was on small tables where creators could interact with fans. Due to my prior experiences, I was really wary of this setup. I expected a bunch of money-grabbing dealers surfing around tables full of grumpy creators who just wanted to go home. Nothing could’ve been further from the truth.

Fans were respectful and engaged, and because of that creators were all in fantastic moods. I met and spoke with Bill Willingham for the first time, having only just begun reading Fables. I had started collecting the Invincible hardcovers, and got to chat with both Ryan Ottley and Robert Kirkman. I was introduced to Greg Rucka’s work at that show. It was the most fantastic comic-book convention experience I’d had since I was 13 years old.

The size of the show worried me at the time. Having seen so many other shows come and go in the Pacific Northwest, I was worried that ECCC just wouldn’t last, and that it was as big as it would ever get. The shows in 2009 and 2010 were about the same size, but the attendance had doubled, and blew my expectations right out of the water. This show was here to stay.

In 2011 I’d been doing the After The Fact podcast for about two years, and decided I wanted to do a comic book podcast using the same format. I cemented the plan after recruiting Andy Podell, whom I worked with at the time, to be the co-host. Andy was already a pretty regular cast member on ATFP, so when I say “recruited” I mean that I walked up and said “Wanna do a comic book p-“ and he’d said yes before I ever finished the sentence.

We recorded Episode 0 of Trade Secrets at ECCC 2011, and the con has been an integral part of our show ever since. After that first year we decided to get a table at the show, an investment that has been paying dividends ever since. I’m not gonna lie – I’d pay for this Artist’s Alley table every single year for the sole purpose of having a designated place to sit at the convention.

Emerald City Comicon has exploded in size since I first attended in 2008. The attendance has grown from 10,000 to almost 70,000 in that time, and the physical floor space has increased from one part of one hall to the entire WCCC and a few surrounding hotels. And yet, in all that growth, the convention has still maintained that amazing atmosphere, a feeling that encourages one-on-one interaction between comic book fans and the creators of the work we love so much. Yeah, there are more exhibitors and media guests, but more than half the show floor is still occupied by simple six-food Artist’s Alley tables where some of the biggest names in the industry still sit down and sign books and take duck-face selfies with people who love their work (I’m lookin’ at you, Kelly Sue).

This convention is directly responsible for our continued devotion to Trade Secrets. We’ve developed relationships with several creators whom we’ve had on the show, mostly at ECCC. Even outside of Trade Secrets, I’ve had the chance to have some absolutely lovely conversations with some of my favorite people in the industry. And you just won’t find that kind of interaction anywhere else (especially not at SDCC).

I know, I know. Now I’m gushing. But let me be frank here for a minute:

Comic book conventions, when I was growing up, were not positive experiences (for the most part). I’ve had terrible run-ins with creators, dealers, and other fans, and some of the shows I attended were downright scummy. With the exception of that one experience with the Image creators, the majority of my con experiences were awful – and even at that show the good was balanced by a terrible run-in with Rob Leifeld that sparked enmity in me that stands to this day.

For me, Emerald City Comicon has turned that all around. In the last few years I’ve managed to get well over a hundred signatures from my favorite creators, and every single one of those came with a personal experience, if not a longer conversation, with that person. It’s one of the most fantastic shows in the industry, and one that has given me experiences I’ll never, ever forget.

Thanks, ECCC. See you next year.

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Comic Conventions and ECCC

  By

My first experience at a comic book convention was in Portland, Oregon, within a few weeks of the launch of Image Comics. The show took place in a gutted department store at one end of a mall, and five of the six Image founders were in attendance (they were sans Erik Larsen). I can trace my hardcore comic fandom directly to that show, and to my overwhelmingly positive experiences meeting Jim Lee, Todd McFarlane, and Marc Silvestri. Spawn #1 had not yet released but I was a huge fan of McFarlane’s Spider-Man, and when 13-year-old me got to tell him so, he actually pulled me behind his signing table and talked with me for 15 minutes about comics, the Blazers, and Spidey. It was a formative moment for me.

In the late-80’s and early-90’s, meeting creators from your favorite Marvel and DC books was not an easy endeavor. The guys in charge of some of the most iconic characters of all time were cloistered and egomaniacal (from a fan’s perspective), and experiences like my moment with Todd McFarlane were almost impossible to track down. Back then, when San Diego Comicon was still actually about comics, creators never really seemed to be encouraged to engage their fans on a personal level. Even this experience, I believe, was only possible because the founders of Image were already trying to change how the industry worked.

I began to understand why these experiences were unavailable during a trip to a comic book convention at Seattle Center when I was in high-school, in (I think) 1994. It was a tiny show, occupying only two rooms, with a smattering of artists and writers around the edges signing autographs. I had sketches done by Dan Norton and Joe Benitez, milled around the back issue bins, and finally – after waiting what seemed like forever – got to meet and get a signature from Walt Simonson.

As I neared the front of the line, it was obvious that several of the people in front of me were comics dealers. Every one of them had stacks upon stacks of comics for signing, including multiple copies of the same book, and manners were nonexistent. Mr. Simonson was visibly frustrated. The straw broke the camel’s back with the guy in front of me, who plopped down a stack of easily fifty-plus books, and began smarming at Mr. Simonson as though the two of them were on the golf links together.

In one of the most memorable moments of my life, Walt Simonson stared this guy down as he jabbered, stopped him from talking with a raised hand, and said “Excuse me. When did I give you leave to address me in the familiar?” He then took the top book off of this guy’s stack, signed it, replaced it, slid the entire rest of the stack to the side, and waived me up to get his signature.

This, for me, encapsulated everything that was wrong with the comics industry in the 90’s. At age 16, that moment changed how I looked at the books I bought and read. Over the next couple of months I completely changed my buying habits, shifting my entire mentality away from seeing comics as collectibles, and seeing them now as entertainment media.

At all the comic book conventions I had attended throughout the 90’s, I walked away with maybe 15 signed books. At that time, conventions that weren’t NYCC or SDCC were dealer’s shows, populated entirely by comic book shops and collectors plying their wares, with the occasional small group of creators as a draw for fans to come into a giant comic book flea market. I had very few positive experiences with creators after the one with Todd McFarlane, mostly because the creators I was meeting desperately wanted to be interacting with fans, and most of their interaction ended up being with people trying to make a quick buck.

We’re going to skip a few years, because in 1996 the vast majority of my comic book collection burned up in an apartment fire, and I bailed on comics entirely until the middle of 2002. Once I was back into comics, I found a dearth of local comic book conventions. I’d been to a few smaller ones like the Walt Simonson was at, but nothing really compared in scale to the larger ones in New York, Chicago, or San Diego. Talent didn’t really come up this way, so I pretty much gave up on the idea of getting anything signed again or interacting with my favorite creators in any meaningful way.

Until Emerald City Comicon came along.

I didn’t attend the first few years of the current incarnation of ECCC. They were held at the Qwest Field Event Center, and I didn’t really hold out much hope for them being any different than the shows at Seattle Center had been. The first time I attended was in 2008, the first year they held the show at the Washington State Convention Center, the same venue where PAX Prime is held. They occupied only two halls in the WSCC, and one of those halls was solely for the queue. In spite of the (comparatively) small size, one of the things that struck me about ECCC was the atmosphere.

Around half, if not more, of the space they occupied was dedicated to Artist’s Alley. Yes, there were exhibitors in the hall – all the local comic shops were there, a couple of video game dealers, and small booths for Dark Horse and Image – but the real focus, it seemed, was on small tables where creators could interact with fans. Due to my prior experiences, I was really wary of this setup. I expected a bunch of money-grabbing dealers surfing around tables full of grumpy creators who just wanted to go home. Nothing could’ve been further from the truth.

Fans were respectful and engaged, and because of that creators were all in fantastic moods. I met and spoke with Bill Willingham for the first time, having only just begun reading Fables. I had started collecting the Invincible hardcovers, and got to chat with both Ryan Ottley and Robert Kirkman. I was introduced to Greg Rucka’s work at that show. It was the most fantastic comic-book convention experience I’d had since I was 13 years old.

The size of the show worried me at the time. Having seen so many other shows come and go in the Pacific Northwest, I was worried that ECCC just wouldn’t last, and that it was as big as it would ever get. The shows in 2009 and 2010 were about the same size, but the attendance had doubled, and blew my expectations right out of the water. This show was here to stay.

In 2011 I’d been doing the After The Fact podcast for about two years, and decided I wanted to do a comic book podcast using the same format. I cemented the plan after recruiting Andy Podell, whom I worked with at the time, to be the co-host. Andy was already a pretty regular cast member on ATFP, so when I say “recruited” I mean that I walked up and said “Wanna do a comic book p-“ and he’d said yes before I ever finished the sentence.

We recorded Episode 0 of Trade Secrets at ECCC 2011, and the con has been an integral part of our show ever since. After that first year we decided to get a table at the show, an investment that has been paying dividends ever since. I’m not gonna lie – I’d pay for this Artist’s Alley table every single year for the sole purpose of having a designated place to sit at the convention.

Emerald City Comicon has exploded in size since I first attended in 2008. The attendance has grown from 10,000 to almost 70,000 in that time, and the physical floor space has increased from one part of one hall to the entire WCCC and a few surrounding hotels. And yet, in all that growth, the convention has still maintained that amazing atmosphere, a feeling that encourages one-on-one interaction between comic book fans and the creators of the work we love so much. Yeah, there are more exhibitors and media guests, but more than half the show floor is still occupied by simple six-food Artist’s Alley tables where some of the biggest names in the industry still sit down and sign books and take duck-face selfies with people who love their work (I’m lookin’ at you, Kelly Sue).

This convention is directly responsible for our continued devotion to Trade Secrets. We’ve developed relationships with several creators whom we’ve had on the show, mostly at ECCC. Even outside of Trade Secrets, I’ve had the chance to have some absolutely lovely conversations with some of my favorite people in the industry. And you just won’t find that kind of interaction anywhere else (especially not at SDCC).

I know, I know. Now I’m gushing. But let me be frank here for a minute:

Comic book conventions, when I was growing up, were not positive experiences (for the most part). I’ve had terrible run-ins with creators, dealers, and other fans, and some of the shows I attended were downright scummy. With the exception of that one experience with the Image creators, the majority of my con experiences were awful – and even at that show the good was balanced by a terrible run-in with Rob Leifeld that sparked enmity in me that stands to this day.

For me, Emerald City Comicon has turned that all around. In the last few years I’ve managed to get well over a hundred signatures from my favorite creators, and every single one of those came with a personal experience, if not a longer conversation, with that person. It’s one of the most fantastic shows in the industry, and one that has given me experiences I’ll never, ever forget.

Thanks, ECCC. See you next year.

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Emerald City Comicon!

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Holy crap, Emerald City Comicon is this weekend! ECCC, without a doubt, now my favorite convention of the year (PAX and GenCon coming in a tie for a close second place). ECCC is just one of those conventions that gets it. Does it all right.

This will be my 6th ECCC. I’ve been going to this incarnation of the con ever since they moved from the Qwest Field Event Center to their current home at the Washington State Convention Center, the same venue where PAX Prime is held. The first time I went, the con only occupied maybe ¼ of the convention center, confined to one floor and sometimes taking place at the same time as other smaller trade shows in the same building. In the six years I’ve been going, it has exploded in size, now taking up virtually the same amount of space as PAX Prime.

Yet, in spite of all that rapid growth, they’ve still managed to maintain the uniqueness of the show and a cozy, friendly atmosphere that is lacking from so many other conventions (I’m looking at you, SDCC). From the get-go, Emerald City’s focus has been on interaction. The show is dominated by the largest and most accessible Artist’s Alley configuration I’ve ever seen at a convention. While it does still boast the big, crazy company booths, gaming areas, and celebrity appearances, the real draw of the show is that almost every artist and writer who attends has their own small table in addition to their panel and company appearances, allowing fans the chance to shake hands and meet and talk with the creators they love so much.

This is exactly what draws me back every single year. While I love the craziness of something like PAX, the intimacy that ECCC still maintains makes it so much more than your normal comic convention. Over the course of this show I’ve been able to not just meet, but have long conversations with some of my favorite writers and artists – something unheard of at most other cons I’ve attended.

We started the Trade Secrets Podcast at ECCC in 2011. Our “Episode 0” was recorded in the same Sheraton lobby bar that we’d recorded several PAX shows for the now defunct After The Fact Podcast, and introduced three of our long-running cast members in myself, Andy Podell, and Anne Bean (Joel Simon came on for episode 1). The following year we bought an Artist’s Alley table to promote the website and the show, and ended up meeting now-regular cast member Eddie Isaac right there on the show floor.

This will be our 4th year representing Trade Secrets at ECCC, our 3rd on the floor. Over the last few years we’ve done interviews with our favorite creators, talked at length about the best (and worst) cosplay we see wandering by, invite all kinds of guest hosts onto the show, and generally have a fantastic time. ECCC has been an integral part of the Trade Secrets podcast both as the show’s “birthday”, and as a rejuvenating influence on all of the regular members of the show. If ever there is a time where some of start to feel like the show’s becoming a grind, Emerald City just washes that all away.

Even just in the run-up to the show this week, I’ve already felt that energizing effect. We’ll be on the show floor all three days, we’ll be recording a Trade Secrets episode all about Sheltered, and interviewing the creative teams for Sheltered and Rat Queens. I absolutely love this show. It is my favorite time of the year. I can’t wait for this weekend, and myself, Andy, Joel, and Anne all hope to see you there!

ECCC14_Web_FloorPlans

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Foodie Time

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It’s no secret that I really love to cook. At least… I hope it’s not a secret. Well, if it was a secret, I guess it’s out now.

I learned the fun of cooking from my father. My mother was the primary cook in our family, but her meals (with a few notable exceptions) tended to be fairly utilitarian. They served their purpose, but there wasn’t really any culinary flare to them. (I will give her props for making a masterful corned beef & cabbage, though)

The few meals my father would prepare were things he cooked for the enjoyment of it. He loved experimenting, and his experimentation led to some of the best and worst meals of my childhood. The point, though, was that he was always trying new things. Where my mother was very strict in following recipes to the letter, my dad just let ingredients and spices fly and hoped they turned out right.

I think I’m lucky in that respect, because I have a bit of both. I’m not averse to following recipes when I think I’m better off doing so, or to learn a new meal. I tend, however, to feel my way around seasonings rather than abiding by strict measurements. The times when I tend to have the biggest successes are when I deviate from the path. The risk, of course, is that I might end up fucking everything up.

Recently, a new layer has been added to my culinary adventure: a stand mixer. I know, I know… That probably sounds really damned boring to most of you, but it’s opened up a whole new world of cooking for me that was previously more problem than it was worth. Within days of getting the mixer I’ve found out that it’s now significantly easier for me to make bread than to buy it, and the stuff I’ve been able to make – even on my very first try – has been better than 90% of what comes from a store.

And with this revelation comes the realization that I’ve been neglecting a significant passion in my life on this blog. I’ve filled it with most of my geeky hobbies like gaming and comic books, but I’ve never really posted about food here. And that’s about to change.

There are a ton of food blogs out there, and I’m not intending to compete. Like the rest of this blog my intention is simply to share my thoughts, passions, successes, and failures. Now, though, you get to find out where a fat ass like me likes to eat, and what I like to cook.

I’ve added a “Food” category to the blog, which will be split into “Eating” and “Cooking”. I’m sure you guys can suss out what that all means.

Note: Both images used on this post are of food I’ve cooked. The large slider image on the main page is of a rotisserie pork shoulder I’ve perfected and cook quite frequently. The smaller image on the direct link to the article is of the start of a batch of beef stew I made using beef back ribs as the meat.