by john | Nov 2, 2017 | #HoldOnToTheLight, Real Life
Yeah, that’s a picture of my wrist.
Yeah, I have a semicolon tattoo.
Yeah, I have lost friends to suicide.
Yeah, I have had suicidal feelings at times.
No, I’ve never attempted suicide.
No, I don’t have suicidal thoughts anymore, nor have I for several years.
No, this isn’t a “cry for help,” or any other random way of me looking for sympathy for my past, current, or future issues with depression, bipolar disorder, or anything else.
This is me talking about my tattoo, who it’s for, why it’s there, and what wearing it has meant for me.
This tattoo is for my uncle, who took his own life while his wife folded laundry on the porch. This tattoo is for my actor friend who survived not only the suicide of his father, but also his twin brother, and grew up to be one of the strongest, most talented motherfuckers I know. This tattoo is for my pal Logan, whose demon won the fight one dark night. This tattoo is for every writer on the Mid-South con circuit who woke up one morning thinking “What could I have done to make it better?” This tattoo is for my friend Dave whose life caught up with him and overwhelmed him. This tattoo is for my poker buddies who sat around a table with me wondering “How could he?” then listened in shock as I explained exactly how he could, and what it felt like on the inside of that struggle when everyone around you is completely unaware that you’re even fighting.
If there’s anyone that’s a better liar than an addict, it’s a high-functioning depressive. And if you want to talk about a dubious fucking honor, that’s one right there.
I put this semicolon on my wrist earlier this year. My buddy James R. Tuck did it, along with other tattoo work. James is my brother from another mother, a helluva writer, and a good man. When he asked me which way I wanted the tattoo to point, I didn’t know.
“Is it for you, or is it for other people?” he asked.
I didn’t know the answer. But in the moment, I said “For me.” And he oriented the tattoo so that every time I look at my wrist, I’m reminded that I’m still here because I have shit left to do. I’m not finished, and I’m too arrogant and stubborn to think that anyone could carry on my projects without me. So I guess I’ll stick around.
All of that still holds true. But since I put that tattoo on my wrist, a funny thing has happened. Funny, and heartbreaking at the same time. When they see mine, they show me theirs. It’s like we’re part of this odd club – the survivors. I’ve had gas station cashiers roll up their sleeves out of the blue, waitresses hike up their uniform pants to show me an ankle, and more than one person at a con give me a questioning look before showing me their ink.
Yeah, I’ve been there. I love and hate that I’m part of this club. I love it, because there’s a network of people wearing this tattoo and talking about their pain and their issues. I love it, because every time we have an open conversation about mental health it helps erase the stigma associated with it, and that can lead to someone getting the help they need before they become another statistic. I hate it, because it means that a lot of other people have spent a lot of time hurting, and I really wish that weren’t true.
But if I can bring more attention to the fact that a lot of people have earned their semicolons, whether they have a tattoo or not, then it’s worth a sometimes-awkward conversation. If you aren’t familiar with Project Semicolon, their website is here. It horribly ironic that the founder of this website and movement lost her battle with depression and suicidal ideation, showing that it’s a never-ending struggle.
I’m okay. This has been a good week, following a good month. Not a great month, but a good one. I’m consistently hovering around a 4-7 out of 10 on my personal wellness scale, where 10 is amazeballs and 1 is dead. My lowest in recent history has been a three, which is pretty good. My highest has been a nine or so, which is awesome. Most days I’m on the high side of the scale, which is great. So I’m okay. But if you aren’t okay, please understand that there are people out there who have been there, who give a shit, and would like to see you around for a long time. So if you need help, find help. There are a lot of resources out there, and a lot of resources on the #HoldOnToTheLight website.
You story isn’t finished yet; keep on writing it.
by john | Nov 1, 2017 | Business of publishing, How to Sell Books, Travel
This is kind of a new phenomenon in the past decade or so since geek chic has been a thing. I know, several of the cons I’m going to talk about have been around much longer, but they morphed from comic cons into a Pop Culture Con. Many of them still bill themselves as Comic Cons, but only tangentially hold onto that premise.
When I talk about a pop culture con, I’m talking Sand Diego Comicon, NY Comicon, AwesomeCon, Spooky Empire (although it’s a little more horror-centric, it’s still a big pop culture thing, just with a horror slant to it) – that kind of event. The kind of con where there is a big vendor hall, with lots of vendors, some artists, maybe a few authors sprinkled in, a metric butt-ton of autograph guests, and a decent panel schedule. These almost always take place in major cities, and are almost always in major convention centers.
These behave a lot like the smaller comic cons and vendor hall cons in that your purpose there is to sling paperbacks. This is a place where everything is expensive, so you’d better bring a bunch of inventory, and be ready to sell, sell, sell. And that might get you a return on your investment, but don’t hold your breath. I did NY Comicon several years ago, split a booth with two other writers, and sold a thousand dollars worth of books.
I almost broke even.
And that’s with me sleeping in a friend’s guest room and splitting the booth three ways. Shit was expensive. That said, I did AwesomeCon in DC last year, and sold quite well. I also didn’t have a plane ticket to deal with, and the booth was way cheaper. So it’s a balancing act.
These are the only cons I do not recommend new authors do. If you only have one title out, you’re going to have such a hard time moving enough product to break even that it’s almost impossible. Also, with only one book, you don’t have any potential for followup sales the week after the con, because the people who meet you will have already bought all your stuff! I wouldn’t look to hit these bigger events until I had three or more books under my belt, unless I could sit in a booth with someone for free, and I didn’t have to pay for any travel expenses.
The signal to noise ratio at the pop culture cons is challenging, because there is just so much going on in the vendor hall that the number of people who say they’ll come back and actually do is even lower than normal (and normal it might be 20%). It’s such an uncommon thing that Stuart Jaffe and I even remarked on how surprised we were that people at AwesomeCon actually did come back and buy things later in the weekend. It happened to us several times over the three days of the event, much more frequently than we expected. So, good on you, DC fans!
Another challenge with the pop culture shows is that you’re the last thing on the fans’ wish list. If they showed up specifically to get Stan Lee’s autograph, then that’s $100 that’s going to Stan the Man, and you’re never seeing it. After they spend $20 to park, $20 on lunch, $50 on a badge, and $100 on Stan’s autograph, it’s going to be difficult to pry $15 for a paperback out of them. So while there’s a lot of money walking around the show floor, getting any of it into your pocket can be difficult.
This probably sounds like I don’t like pop culture cons, and don’t want to do them, and that’s not correct. I don’t want to do them every weekend, or even every month, but I do want to do 2-4 each year. These big destination cons give me a chance to hit large cities that I might not get to each year, and I am at a point now that I have fans in most major metro areas in the US, so I’ll have a few people come out and say hi even at the biggest events. In 2018, I’m doing Emerald City Comicon for the first time, and I’m looking at AwesomeCon and C2E2. That’s three, and that’s plenty of those for me. Maybe after my TV series hits and I’m getting flown around to all these cons like the cast of Arrow, I’ll reconsider. But if that ever happens, I’ll have plenty of things to reconsider. 🙂
No, I don’t have a TV deal. But if anyone wants to make one, hit me up. I’m open to the possibility. 🙂
I think pop culture cons can be an important tool in an author’s toolbox, but like every tool, you have to be judicious in the use of them. They take a lot of money, and a lot of energy, and they often run longer than just the weekend, so they can eat into your writing time. All of those things lead me to recommend that newer authors only do one or two of these a year, and don’t try to vend at them until you get at least three books out. Obviously, your mileage will vary, but that’s my general recommendation for folks.
Next week we’ll talk about the dedicated autograph shows, and then I’ll wrap up with a post on the con to end all cons – Dragon Con, which touches pretty much every different type of con, while remaining something entirely unique.
Until then. if you’re going to be in Roanoke, VA on Saturday, November 4th, come out to see me at the Tanglewood Mall for the Roanoke Valley Comic Con, which will be slightly smaller than NYCC.
