Modern Days: Comics 2000
Thoughts on comics inspired by events in daily life. By Alasdair Watson.

I hate you.

It's you bastards that are killing comics. Yes, you. The ones that didn't bother to attend Jim Valentino's panel on the Saturday. Fuckers, every last one of you. I hate you with every last drop of bile in my body, and I've got a lot of bile, believe me.

If ever I needed it hammered home to me that the average comics fan is a moron, this convention was it.

Before I really get into this, I'll take a moment to mention that I had a really good time, and met lots of nice people. I probably talked shite to a fair number, because I spent most of the convention either drunk or hungover, but I did have a really good time. Comics people, be they professionals or fans, are really nice people. This doesn't change the fact that I was nauseated by what I saw at that convention.

The opening party was a bloody good laugh. Caught up with friends, old and new, got a chance to put some professionals faces to names, and got remarkably drunk. But then, business hadn't started yet.

Saturday, and here, things went Wrong. We arrived at the convention slightly late, thus failing to acquire our sorely needed coffee and cigarette, and decided that we might as well stand in on the last twenty minutes of the SFX/Marvel panel - we'd heard that Grant Morrison was going to be on it. The reason, by the way, that it was the SFX/Marvel panel is that Marvel couldn't be bothered to send anyone officially, or pay for a room to hold a panel in. So SFX magazine sponsor the panel, which consisted of them rounding up some the freelance Marvel creators that were going to be there, and doing a panel with them.

Morrison wasn't on it (indeed wasn't there all weekend), and we arrived just in time for the interview section of the panel to be over, and the floor thrown open to questions. I'm not sure if it was a hangover or disgust that kicked my indigestion off at this point, to be honest. Here's the reason why: we exist in a fragmented industry. With the exception of the Crossgen staff, most comics professionals work alone, from home. Most comics fans keep their habit some form of dirty little secret, sneaking down a shadowy backstreet once a week to pick up some pieces of paper in a nondescript bag from a sweaty man in a dingy little shop. We don't get much of a chance to swap ideas and plot to save our dying industry. So, why is that when we actually have a chance to meet and talk, WE DON'T FUCKING USE IT? What possible excuse do we have?

The quality of the questions at this panel horrified me. I was expecting things like "Given the recent success of the recent Marvel Knights line, do you think Marvel might re-think its 'kids only' policy?" or "There have been rumours that Marvel is considering re-starting its creator owned 'Epic' line. How likely do you think this is, and if they were to restart it, how much of a threat do you think it would pose to places like Image Central, or DC Vertigo, the two major homes for creator owned work in the comics mainstream?"

What did I get? "What was your favourite book you've ever worked on?" "Who's your favourite character to draw?" Crap. Useless, meaningless, crap. The drivel of stunted intellects. You might have just as well have asked them what their favourite colour was, you dreadful shitwits! Sadly, I was stuck at the back of the room, in the shadows, so my raised hand went unnoticed.

So, that panel was over. Next up, Image comics. Jim Valentino himself, along with Steve Conley. Steve is a very nice chap, but in all fairness, this was clearly going to be Valentino's panel. The head of one of the biggest publishing houses around, the man who the day before had just announced a deal with one of the industry's top writers to produce a line with the specific intent of getting readers from outside the industry, was basically making himself available for Q&A.

There were about 20 people in the room, tops. At least 4 of whom had spent a chunk of the previous night chatting to the man, anyway, and who'd managed to get almost all of their questions answered.

20 people. 20 fucking people! No wonder this industry is dying. You bastards don't give a toss about it.

Still, at least the questions were more intelligent. But my indigestion still hadn't cleared up.

We had time for a short break here, mercifully. One sorely needed cigarette and caffeine injection later, and we're off to see the panel by the new British publishers, Com.X. Interesting for the most part, although they didn't quite seem to have all the answers one might have hoped they would by this stage, and judging from the answers they gave, some of their numbers don't seem to add up. However, I ought to stress that this impression is based on some answers in a hour long panel, and I have no idea how they're actually going to run the business.

The questions here were a little more intelligent, apart from some dopey bloke who kept interrupting to ask questions that they'd already answered. Pay attention at the back, eh? It was moderately amusing to watch them defend their massively-breasted Tank Girl-esque character, Bazooka Jules from questioning by a bunch of Sequential Tarts seated somewhere on my right. Their basic answer was laudably honest: They know it'll sell, and thus help finance some of the other works.

Next, the Vertigo panel. Basically a product shilling session for the Vertigo mob, and the Q&A at the end was better than Marvel's only by virtue of the fact that it was at least specific requests, for things like more TPBs and so on. Did pick up one slightly scary fact: about 10% of Vertigo's sales are in Britain. Applying this to some numbers, this means that there are probably around 2000 TRANSMETROPOLITAN readers in the UK. This means that I can fairly safely claim to be in contact with a measurable percentage of that titles readership on a passably regular basis. I find that thought frightening. It helps drive home what a dreadful state this industry is in.

By this point the worst of my indigestion had subsided, and it was off to the Hypotheticals panel. This was a massive improvement - people in and around the industry debating hypothetical situations (based to an extent in real events) and what they might do if placed in them. Some useful commentary on the state of the industry as well as being a bloody good laugh.

So, naturally enough, it was in the smallest goddamn room at the convention. Bastards. This entire convention served as a reminder that there's a reason we're in dreadful state as an industry, and I'm not fucking happy about it. Still, there we are. You people don't care to do anything about it, so it's all dying.

From here on, I had a pleasant time.

Saturday evening began with the Eagle awards. You can all find out who won elsewhere, so I won't bore you with it. Besides, I can't remember. More drinking, and entertaining conversation with intelligent people. Saturday evening ended in alcohol. Sunday was taken up with browsing the convention, chatting to various people, and the Generation E panel, where I don't think I embarrassed myself too badly. If you were there and think I did, please don't tell me.

Alasdair Watson, April 2000.

Alasdair Watson is a founding Editor of and current contributor to PopImage.

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