By the time I'd hit my third year of university I was certain I wanted to be a comic book writer.
It's hard to put into words just how vibrant that land of opportunity looked back then, in 2007. Marvel and DC had bounced back from their near death in the 1990s, with DC's spin off Vertigo leading the way with a tidal wave of adult focussed titles, while Image comics was quickly rising to become an ascendant third party in the previous binary landscape.
Walk into any comic book shop at that time and you'd see shelves filled with literary mainstays. Preacher and Sandman were always in stock. Recent series like Fables and Y: The Last Man would be seeing new volumes every six months. Older titles and obscure series that hadn't been seen in years were getting new print runs. Image itself was willing to take a punt at putting out any number of odd and offbeat titles. Girls. Savage Dragon. Army @ Love. Works like Jack Staff and Strangehaven that had struggled in obscurity for years were finally finding an audience.
Outside the printed page, others were thriving too. Webcomics had become big business, growing fandoms such that they could rival their printed competitors, and it wouldn't be long until Penny Arcade and Gunnerkrigg Court would find themselves sharing shelf space with Superman and Dick Tracy. On the big screen, Sin City had captivated audiences and brought the comic that inspired it a whole new readership, while a big screen adaption of Watchmen was purported to be right around the corner.
The way I saw it, I'd spend my twenties working the small press, making connections before breaking in some time in my thirties, giving me the rest of my life to put together my magnum opus.
What actually happened was I spent a decade dealing with depression, unemployment, a pandemic and an environment of constantly unstable social media sites that scuppered my ability to build a following. Even with that aside though, I discovered that I had severely underestimated how much work it would actually take to get my foot in the door. Now, on the eve of my first time exhibiting at the prestigious Though Bubble convention, I look at the comic book industry and see what looks like an unscaleable wall.
In the run up to Thought Bubble, I messaged Joe Glass, writer and creator of The Pride, to find out if he'd be exhibiting at his usual table there this year. What he told me was that he was basically ready to throw in the towel. Sales were down. Interest was down. He figured he'd have a better chance in the world of literature, and who can blame him to come to that conclusion?
To me, Joe Glass was a known guy. Someone who had been around in comics for a long time. The Pride was constantly praised, as well as considered a landmark in the history of LGBTQ comics. Damn, I thought, if he's struggling to make it, what chance on Earth do I have?
Another anecdote. I was at New York Comic Con in 2011. I sat in on the Image Comics panel where they announced a rebooted run of comics starring characters from Rob Liefeld's Extreme Comics line. (Rob actually got boos from the audience when he came out, which, however you feel about the man, was pretty disrespectful, and now looks like a grim foreshadowing to the state that online comics discourse was heading towards.)
One of the titles announced was Prophet, written by Brandon Graham and illustrated by Simon Roy. The series was met with great acclaim, and praised as one of the best comics coming out at the time. It was Roy's art in particular that was singled out as one of the comic's greatest strengths. There was a sense that Roy had really made a name for himself with Prophet, and that he would ride the wave to mainstream success.
After several years of his work showing up in places as varied as 2000ad and the Halo comics, Roy would go on to create Habitat in 2016 and First Knife in 2020, which should have gotten a bigger readership than they did. The comics were very clearly passion projects, yet didn't really get the promotion, coverage, or widespread release they deserved. It was very clear that there was more to these fictional worlds that Roy wanted to explore, but in the end, it took self publishing to do it. He started a follow up, Griz Grobus, as a webcomic, crowdfunding the physical release, before it was eventually picked up by Image again for a retail market.
It's not that I think Roy feels he got the short end of the stick. He's gone on record about how satisfied he is with the stories he gets to tell, but I look at what the world was like back in 2007 and I think about how by all rights his "Grobusverse," should be a household name, with an animated series and several video games by now.
Just like Joe Glass, whose recent The Miracles I believe could have been this generation's Invincible, I can't help but feel like modern comics, far from cultivating new and exciting talent, is doing nothing but stifling it.
How did it come to this?
It happened in multiple fronts, but the most critical blow came from corporate consolidation of the internet. At the turn of the decade, comic book journalism was bright eyed, popular and vibrant. Comic Book Resources and Comics Alliance both were constantly shining a light on new talent, new stories, as well as branching out towards exploration and analysis of the medium as a whole. I remember Comics Alliance once doing a special "Sex Week" where they released seven days worth of articles exploring the subgenre of erotic comic books.
Such an idea seems unthinkable now, in an age where sites are forbidden from straying from safe, corporate sanitisation. Indeed, both CBR and CA would find themselves stripped of identity and ground to the bone as they were bought out, sold, and bought out again by larger and larger conglomerates. Now CBR is little more than a platform for big industry press releases, while CA has been repurposed as a news aggregate site, the cruellest of fates. Just visiting the site feels like you're looking at a killer wearing the skin of it's victim.
The second blow to comics came from, and I hate to say it, Hollywood. With the booming, relentless success of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, many assumed that the comic book industry's ascent to becoming a dominant cultural force was assured. However, in this instance, the rising tide did not lift all boats. As surprising as it is to hear, sales of Marvel comics have not significantly increased since the MCU came onto the scene in 2008. Despite becoming one of the most profitable franchises in history, audiences have not been particularly motivated when it comes to exploring the source material that their favourite films originated from.
And yet, even though the comic book industry has gotten little from Hollywood's success, more and more of their territory and space has been ceded to it. While comic book conventions have always involved partial coverage of film and TV, they have, at their heart, always been COMIC BOOK conventions. You'd get a ticket, head down, meet some writers, watch some announcements of what the next big events comics were going to be, check out some shoe boxes of back issues, sit in the Batmobile and maybe go get Lou Ferrigno's signature.
Now, so much of the floor space at the big conventions have been given over to Hollywood, and only Hollywood. News coverage out of SDCC or NYCC is almost always "Here's what film is coming next. Here's there cast of xyz. Here's some stuff about video games." The heart of the cons, what made them what they are in the first place, is getting pushed further and further aside. Now visitors get their ticket and shove their way though to Hall H to find out that RTD is back to play Doctor Doom, before they put on VR goggles to play the next Call of Duty game and then spend the rest of the money they have on Funkos or ten foot tall Pokémon plushies. If the mood arises, they might consider taking a glance at a self published comic book while they queue for an hour for Lou Ferrigno's signature.
Finally, the coup de grace was delivered by the deadening of online spaces. As we spent a decade migrating from our enthusiast forums over to the shared spaces of Twitter and Instagram we were forced to tailor our output to the broadest audience possible. We were forced to become our own marketers. Our own brand managers. The work could no longer speak for itself, because how on Earth was it possible for people to even find the work?
Yet despite all that, the algorithm crushed us anyway. Flighty and unknowable, as though some kind of special combination of words and images will chart the path to success, writers and artists were left like passengers on a sinking ship, drowning and desperate, stepping on top of each other in just the hopes of staying above water for one more moment.
When I was in a newly opened comic book shop in Chester I picked up a copy of Local Man by Tony Fleecs and Tim Seeley, on a whim. I had frankly never heard of it. I was astounded at how good it was when I had read it, but what stood out to me more was how it needn't have been this way. This is the kind of comic where once upon a time talk of it would have been everywhere. It's the kind of thing Comics Alliance would have been writing think pieces on for like a month. Now, however, it passed completely under the radar.
Where do we even start to solve a problem like this? Corporate media is now more powerful than ever, and social media dominates. If we are to start anywhere, it's got to be with each other. Writers, artists, colourists and letterers are going to have to come together and rebuild things wholesale. Personally, I honestly think we need to see a comics media landscape that's run by creators for creators. An independent, co-owned media that isn't going to sell out to conglomerates or Hollywood. We need a resurgence in sites like Comics Alliance, we need podcasts that garner a strong audience, we need video sites like Nebula that can stand in contrast to YouTube's dominance.
In the end though I'm just some guy, who has yet to even get his foot in the door. Best I can do is speak it, and try and will it into being. Casting out a message in a bottle in the hopes that somebody will find it. There are people like me all over the world with art to create and stories to tell. The next Hellboy, Invincible or Gunnerkrigg Court is out there right now and it's drowning on that sinking ship. If all I can do is shout the alarm in people's face, like Diogenes screaming from his barrel, then hell, that's what I'll keep doing.
Though if you are at Thought Bubble next weekend please consider buying some of my comics, books or artworks. That would be appreciated.
Addendum
Some comics you should check out:
The Miracles by Joe Glass and Vince Underwood
Habitat by Simon Roy (and then read the rest of his Grobusverse comics)
Local Man by Tony Fleecs and Tim Seeley
Strangehaven by Gary Spencer Millidge
O Sarilho by Shizamura
Prism Stalker by Sloane Leong
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Jack Harvey 2024
