DOING THE WORK 11
by Harris O'Malley

July 21, 2004

Man Plans and the Gods Laugh

Ah, there’s nothing quite like the insanity in the lead-up to a convention, especially the biggest convention of the year. There’s the pressure of getting the latest project finished and off to the printer with both enough time to account for the normal printing time but also for the fact that everybody had the exact same idea. You want to have your supplies lined up, packaged and in the mail. A quick run-through to ensure that you’ve filed all the necessary paperwork, got all the required licenses and sent in the right forms. The panic that ensues when you realize you haven’t yet. And of course, the nigh-constant bickering with UPS, the hotel, the airlines…

It’s no small wonder that my friend Pat has told me that I’ve developed that thousand-yard stare so many creators have

So here I am, having put the finishing touches on the preview book for Berserker: The Wild Hunt when the project mutates on me. It’s no longer an OGN. It’s a four issue mini-series. The fact that Jens’ script divides nicely supports this and the gods know it’ll be easier to market and sell, since neither of us are exactly Big Names. The book’s off to the printers, the proofs have been approved, the supplies are boxed and ready to ship, I’ve faxed off most of the relevant paperwork… now what?

I do what many creators do when we’ve crawled out of deadline hell: I clean.

As I mentioned last time, the first issue of Berserker was finished in that mono-focused zone that is usually only seen by the truly desperate and most of the cast of Comic Party manga. Showers? Only if I absolutely have to. Shaving? Bah, beards are in. GQ said so. Or it should. Food? Can I fix and eat it at my desk without looking away? Fine. Sleep? BAH! Sleep is a totally inefficient substitute for caffeine. Social interaction? That’s what the television is for. And the fact that I seem to be having long discussions about law with Assistant DA McCoy means nothing, dammit! Nothing!

So imagine my surprise when I finally drop the pages in the mail and discover that not only have I developed a startling similarity to Ted Kaczynski, but I’ve also realized that the only reason why I know I have a floor is through empirical evidence and that my cats have created a fascinatingly complex warren of tunnels through the detritus. There is food in my refrigerator that I don’t remember buying, let alone eating. And what’s that huge round, burning…

AAAAGHH! IT BURNS! IT BURNS!

So for the span of two weeks, I get to reclaim normalcy again (for suitably small definitions of normal) before I head off to one of the greatest pressure-cookers in the entertainment industry. Reconnect with friends. Do last minute tasks like starting to advertise the book in the usual spots on-line, collect my copies of Smut Peddler vol. 2, print up my ashcans, make inquiries into buying ad space in key areas, find out exactly how much plasma the average male in his late-20s can sell and still survive so that I can pay for said ad space…

For once in my short career as a comic professional and publisher, I think I may have planned enough and allowed myself enough lead time that the chaos will be minimal. But let’s pretend I didn’t just say that, as it’s the publisher’s equivalent of standing on the top of a mountain in a rainstorm yelling that God’s got lousy aim.

And for some reason, I can’t shake off this mental image of sharks following a chum-boat. Don’t know why.

Once again: I’ll be in the Small Press section of the San Diego Comic Con, with copies of Smut Peddler Vol.2 the first issue of Berserker and copies of Between The Cracks: All Miracles Have A Price and Between The Cracks: The Bride.

Oh, and did I mention that the media rights are all still available? No? Just checking.

In the meantime, there’s new art as well a six page preview of Berserker up on my site and an ashcan is available for anyone who wants one. Just hit me with your snail-mail address at berserker2004@web.de and either Jens or I will get a copy out to you.

And of course, I can be reached at domalley@studiounderhill.com, and I’ll want to know what you think, so drop me a line, won’t you?

 

Harris O'Malley is a writer/artist/publisher of BETWEEN THE CRACKS. He lives in Texas.


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