November 1st Comic Festival report, at last!
Here it is, only a couple of weeks late! And it's LOOOOOONG...!
The alarm went off at 6:13am with an electronically-reproduced William Tell Overture and I actually managed to drag myself out of bed rather than set it for another 15 minutes. Of course I hadn’t packed my bag in advance so spent a while tracking down the programme with directions to the festival, a pad to write down any information or contact details I might be able to get to help me break into the comics industry, and something to eat so I might save myself some money later (two low-fat chocolate bars, a packet of Doritos and a bag of Cadbury’s Chocolate Éclairs - all part of an unbalanced diet).
I didn’t want to get up this early on a Saturday morning for nothing so I went online to book my coach travel by e-ticket, avoiding the possibility of the ticket office not being open yet or the coach being full. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the same journey as the one I’d looked up the previous night cost five pounds less. I don’t know why but I’m glad I waited to see if I could be bothered to get up so early before paying for anything. The time that process took meant I had to run along the road and the bus arrived at the stop a couple of seconds after I did.
The bus arrived in Bristol earlier than the listed 8:20am so I could have got on the 8:20 coach. There were a lot of people waiting so I walked into the all-but-deserted shopping centre to purchase that rare, almost-mythical creation known as a McDonalds Breakfast Meal. I know it would have been safer to eat roadkill but it’s not often I’m awake let alone near a McDonalds when they’re serving breakfast and I can go out and find roadkill any time.
On my way back to the bus station a guy stopped me mid-Sausage & Egg McMuffin and gave me a long story about falling out with his wife, sleeping in a ‘phone box and needing £25 for a week in a hostel. He was originally from Alabama and apologised for being American (I said it’s okay, I intend to be one myself) and said he was really embarrassed to be doing this. His spiel sounded a bit more practiced and comfortable than that but I gave him a pound for going to a bit of effort at least. It turned out to be one of the day’s longer conversations…!
I got on my 8:50am coach and did my best to get some sleep despite being boxed in with little legroom and the morning sun gently roasting me through the window.
The coach was running about 15 minutes early when we reached London and for once I got out at Earl’s Court because I didn’t have any stowed luggage. I don’t know if it got me to the festival any faster but at least I didn’t have to change trains.
I think I got to the Comics Festival at about 11:30am, which wasn’t bad. It had only been going for an hour and a half and the only talk I’d missed was on the Dandy and Beano, which I wasn’t interested in anyway.
I went into the Holiday Inn and followed the signs; they had a real front desk for the festival, not just a table & chairs. If only we’d had that in Bristol, my just-bought G.I.Joe comic could have been stowed away and not taken by bastard or bastards unknown while I was in the bathroom…
So I paid my £6, the first time I’ve had to pay at one of these and, I think, the highest ticket price so far (even for the 2-day Bristol ones). Needless to say I had high hopes, having already spent about 5 hours and £24 just getting there.
I walked through a long, twisting corridor flanked with tables, mostly small press/self-publishers. Titan had a table there but it was just selling trades and toys (I think they’re connected to Forbidden Planet) and there wasn’t anyone there from their magazine publishing I could talk to. I did enter their prize draw to win the Ultimate Authority Book 2 hardcover (worth about forty quid) but I think I’d have heard by now if I won.
I went on through to the dealers’ room which was much smaller than any of the Bristol festivals’. Again there were a lot of small press/self-publishing tables. I looked at them without getting so close the creators would talk me into buying their books as my funds are quite limited and I was mainly looking for bargains on the series I haven’t been able to keep up with for a few months now. I bought the new G.I.Joe #22 for the cover price (favourable conversion rate) since I’d read it had sold out the week it was released. I had to tear myself away from the recent issues of Transformers (G1 Galvatron is in Armada!!!), especially the new War Within: Dark Ages series. I have to keep telling myself; someday I’ll get the trades…
I carried on around the room, recognising a few faces from festivals past: fellow fans and a handful of artists. I got talking to a guy who had a table selling original artwork by British creators and had a look through the portfolios even though I couldn’t afford any. Definitely something for the future though, there were some really nice pieces from just £40.
I went around to the more crowded side of the room and realised everyone was lining up to get to artist Mark Buckingham. Not having anything to sign I wasn’t going to stand in any queues that day. Sketches would have been good but Buckingham was the only artist who was scheduled for signing/sketching whose work I really know & like and I have a piece by him already.
I went around the room again, talked a bit with the dealer whose table Mark Buckingham’s fans were blocking and asked him if he had any issues from the ‘90s Elektra series (he did, but nothing needed - sorry, Edie). When I was satisfied there was nobody there representing an established publisher or the trade press I made my way back through the corridor to find out where the talks room was. I managed to find organiser Kev Sutherland at the front desk; he recognised me but we only had time to shake hands and exchange pleasantries before he characteristically dashed off to someone who’d been asking for him.
It was hot inside (although fairly well-smelling for a comics-based event) and I’d only had a bottle of orange juice from my breakfast meal, so I headed out of the Holiday Inn to avoid paying their refreshments’ prices. There was a Safeway around the corner and I found 1.5 litre bottles of sugar-free (health-conscious!) flavoured mineral water, £1.24 each with a 2-for-1 offer. It meant carrying them around but it was okay provided they didn’t crumple any comics.
Back inside I went to the talks room for a panel on self-publishing. It really was very interesting and rather inspiring although it was stressed that it’s more of an expensive hobby than a viable career. Still, if I get my arse in gear and maybe find someone more talented than me for the art I might someday get my story ideas realised in black-and-white, photocopied, print run in double digits form. Unfortunately, as I’d assumed, it became clear that there is no call for editors in the self-published comics scene unless I want to publish my own (such as an anthology) and be the one who pays for it while not necessarily doing anything in the creative side. Following the talk I felt even worse about not buying any of the small press books being sold there but hopefully by the next Bristol festival I’ll have the spare money to be able to check some of them out.
I spent a little more time looking through the back-issues on sale now I’d been able to get past the overwhelming sensation of a room full of comics and remember titles I was actually seeking. I got a few issues of Grant Morrison’s X-Men for a reasonable price, bringing me up-to-date on that series, then went back to the talks room.
I got a good seat and read a bit of G.I.Joe while the room filled up, then the writers’ pitch-fest began. Would-be comics writers (who had registered in advance) had two minutes each to talk about a story, character or other idea, with visual aides if desired. Their pitch was reviewed Pop Idol-style by a panel of professionals which consisted of a few writers and DC’s Editor-In-Chief Dan DiDio. Of the ten pitches there were some good ideas, some bad/bland and a couple that were pretty derivative. One was pitched by an old French woman and was a weird conceptual-philosophical book that might have been a bit too "arthouse" for the majority of the audience. It was up to us to vote for the best; my favourite came second to my second favourite. The winner did have a pretty good idea but she put me off by making a point about being a disabled lesbian who’s going to say what she wants whatever people’s attitudes, which didn’t really have anything to do with her proposed comic series.
After the pitch-fest I hoped I might at least be able to talk with Dan DiDio about editorial work, if only to get suggestions on what I should do in working towards that goal and maybe even to discuss my chances/ability of moving to America to work. Unfortunately he was, as I pretty much expected, busy and disappeared as soon as the doors opened. I did find the stairs to the second level, where the signings had been happening, and bought the set of Christmas-themed trading cards which had been made for the festival and whose proceeds went to charity. Somewhat disconsolate, I went back to the dealers’ room to see if there was anything else there I could find to interest myself beyond emptying my wallet. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay for the charity auction of card art in the evening but I didn’t realise the festival would pretty much end before that. It was about 6:00pm and I had to be at Victoria Coach Station by 8:00. I looked around in the vain hope that I had somehow missed the Marvel or Wizard table manned by their entire editorial staff but ended up looking through back-issues on the table held by the comic shop from Bath. The owner-manager-guy said hi and asked how I was doing, apparently remembering me from his shop and the Bristol festival. I told him how I hadn’t managed to get an internship with Marvel or any other comics company but had still made it to New York, and that I had come to London hoping to talk to someone about my editorial hopes. He agreed with me in that this festival had turned out well but wasn’t really much use for my particular requirements; the next Bristol festival should be a much better opportunity for me. He did tell me that he thought a couple of guys from the Comics International magazine were there, more on pleasure than business, plus Preacher and Punisher writer Garth Ennis who was an "unlisted" guest (meaning he got in for free and was given special privileges but didn’t actually have to let anyone know who he was let alone sign anything or talk…?). The comic shop guy (Dave) said that he’d have a look around and if he saw them he’d bring them back to the table and introduce them to me, which was really nice of him. Alas, he was unsuccessful, but I appreciate the effort.
I hung around a little more in case I did see someone I recognised, Dan DiDio or Kev Sutherland or the like, but the festival was pretty much packing up. It was about 6:30 and as I hadn’t got off the coach at Victoria I wasn’t sure how long it would take me to get there, especially on a Saturday evening. I actually surprised myself, getting there at about ten to seven. I had barely sat down when the doors opened for the 7:00 coach; in the past I had got on an earlier coach than my ticket had been for when I’d found myself ahead of schedule so I went to see if I could this time since there really weren’t many other passengers. And as I had bet to myself would be the case before I talked to the driver, I was told that e-tickets can NOT be used for any journey other than the reserved one. So I went to sit back in the station and wait for an hour. I was fairly hungry, having only eaten the McDonalds breakfast and some sweets all day, but I’d only passed fast (junk) food retailers on the way to the station and wasn’t going to eat that again. I also didn’t want to risk getting lost and missing my coach by wandering around looking for somewhere better. So in SUCH a sensible solution I sat in the station reading X-Men and eating chocolate éclairs.
I got on the 8:00pm coach without any problems and dozed on the journey back, thankfully with a seat to myself, arriving at Bristol about 20 minutes early. Unfortunately the gap between the penultimate and final buses home from Bristol was two hours so it just meant I had a longer wait. Typically, once I’d got off the coach I wished I’d used its toilet. Rather than wait for the kids playing around in the portaloo outside I decided to put a bit of local knowledge into application and go down the road to a pub. I’d never been in it before (I think it’s called the White Hart…) but it was close and I assumed it would have a toilet. When I went in a woman turned and smiled at me, which I found somewhat surprising until I saw her behind the bar shortly after. My self-confidence has improved over the last few years but I still couldn’t believe I’m that hot! I had to circumnavigate a karaoke singer to get to the toilet but at least nobody said I had to buy a drink first. I did go to the bar but hadn’t actually got enough cash for anything so I got a glass of water, feeling a little bad that I had taken advantage of the place. I had a look over some guy’s shoulder at the karaoke song list book but didn’t see anything, plus there was a waiting list to sing, plus karaoke is something Edie and I have been saying we wanted to do together for ages, so I didn’t make my singing debut to strangers in Bristol on a wet Saturday night in November…
After sitting in the VERY cold bus station for a while I got the last bus to Midsomer Norton, becoming the last passenger too. Of course it was raining when I had to walk back to the house from Tesco and although it was half an hour into Sunday I found my parents sitting up waiting for me, apparently quite worried. They hadn’t paid full attention when I’d told them my travel plans and thought I was getting the bus to get home at 11:20 rather than leaving the bus station at that time. Still, nice to know they cared. I found out Edie had called earlier that night to talk to me before she went to Ithaca and incommunicado for a few days and by the time I’d got back she would have gone. So apart from buying a few comics for the first time in a couple of months the day turned out to be a bit of a washout for me, although the festival was certainly a success in its own right. Here’s hoping the next Bristol festival leads to a bit more personal fulfilment provided I’m in a position to attend!