Wow. In less than two weeks, It'll be Labor day. All I seem to remember from the eight months of 2004 is deadlines and blogs. The year started with a bang. I began working for Marvel on Thor during the last five issues of Dan Jurgen's run. Two of those months were 'double-ship' months, So Scot Eaton and I had three-week schedules to work with. Doing a page a day, plus a few covers, and you're left with basically no time off. Mind you, this was voluntary. We knew a years-long storyline of King Thor was wrapping up, and we took a sense of pride in finishing it ourselves. Besides, it made for a nice trade paperback with one complete creative team from cover to cover ("Gods and Men", still available at finer funnybook stores).

   Now I'm in the home stretch of my Captain America tenure (far too short for this fanboy). I wish I had the time this year to attend one of the various comic conventions, particularly Wizard World Chicago, which I heard was exceptional this year. Well, there is the Baltimore and the WW Texas left, but as the holidays begin creeping up on me, I get stressed out enough with deadlines and other obligations without overcommitting myself. I'M JUST ONE MAN! EVERYONE WANTS A PIECE OF ME!! AAAAAH!

   *Whew* Just time-traveled ahead to December, but I'm back now. Please accept my apologies.

   I learned an early lesson about planning for cons: If your intent is strictly to secure future work, make arrangements for the next major convention, don't wait for your favorite destinations. In my early pro days, I'd made travel arrangements for the (upcoming summer) San Diego Con the previous November, when I'd get the best availability and rates of hotels, airfares, etc. It was foolish to plan a con that far in advance for the purposes of finding work, because, by the time the con rolled around, I was swamped with work. In fact, I had to work myself half-to-death to clear my deadline schedule for the convention.

   Depending on your individual goals, cons serve other purposes. For most artists, it's to meet editors. The three reasons are 1) breaking into comics 2) making face-time with different editors so they remember you when assigning new work, or 3) cementing your working relationship with your current editor. Oddly enough, I've never gotten a job through convention contacts, just referrals from pencillers and editors. I go to cons for fun, talking shop and buying obscure stuff (Last convention gem I found: Charlton Premiere # 2, "Children of Doom", the cautionary futuristic Sci-Fi tale (what other kind of futuristic tale is there?) by Denny O' Neil & Pat Boyette. If my memory serves me, supposedly, this was the comic that inspired Alan Moore to become a writer. The price? Two bucks in 'well-read-but sturdy' condition, generally called a 'reading copy', not a collectable. I'm of the mindset that all comics are reading copies, but what do I know?

   I'll tell you what I know: Cons are great for shmoozing editors, but I'm terrible at that and self-conscious of other jackals, excuse me, comic pros, who are elbowing past me. There's hundreds of other comics professionals gunning for your job, so you've gotta stay aware of your status with a company.

   Which reminds me: Another great experience at cons is meeting fellow pros, but be wary of ones who pepper you with questions at a rapid clip, each one more exploratory than the previous. "Who's your editor?" can be considered small talk, but "What's he/she like?", "What's the best way to get on his/her good side?" can lead you into dangerous territory. You may find yourself blindsided into volunteering how a fellow inker may insinuate themselves into your job, like a scam artist or telemarketer trying to get your financial information during a brief exchange. If you're running a little late on a deadline, for God's sake, don't tell anyone! You'll only create a window of opportunity for jackals!

   I remember when a certain jackal, I mean, ArtiSt, who will remain unnamed, called my penciller and claimed I had badmouthed the penciller to him and that I was eager to leave the comic we were working on. This ArtiSt caught me one particular week when I was feeling down about my career, questioning if I should stay in comics (a ritual every comics artist goes through, like molting season). Of course, this ArtiSt kindheartedly wished to console the penciller by offering his services in my stead. The penciller knew I was having a bad week, so the ArtiSt preyed upon my penciller's fears and it caused some tensions that took a few days and a long phone call to resolve.

   Beware the Jackal, my son!