This column was always designed to have three sections: book design/content, distribution, and marketing. I now realize I should have had one other article, probably at the very front, to kick this off right – networking.

Another San Diego Comic-Con has come and gone. Last year I spent the entire show manning the booth – selling copies of Elk’s Run and WToT and excitedly telling people about the deal we recently entered with the now-bankrupt Speakeasy Comics. We had previews of The 8th (then called Ritual Homicide) and Red Mob on display – two books that still haven’t been released.

While I was working the booth, Josh Fialkov was at meetings. He met Dallas Middaugh for the first time and, less than a year later, Dallas acquires Elk’s Run for Random House’s Villard imprint. At the booth I got to meet and talk with he talented folks who were coming by for signings – Phil Hester, Juan Ferreyra, Scott Mills, Tone Rodriguez, Dan Wickline, Stuart Moore, Todd Livingston, Eric J – all the Western Tales of Terror guys who were at the show. I got to talk to them about comics, about their books and their fans – what they want, what seems to sell, what they feel is the way to make comics work better. At the bar I got to meet more folks – Josh introducing me to people but at the time I had nothing to show, I was just Josh’s editor.

So I listened. I exchanged business cards. I kept in contact. And I continued to listen.

With those contacts I managed to build my team for Postcards – 16 stories, all packed with phenomenal talent. With the discussions I had I built my own plans – my own style of pitching and marketing and producing.

And this year I put it all to the test. I printed out my Postcards’ brochures and passed them around to all the creators and publishers I could find. I had scheduled meetings for the first time and all of them were encouraging. Every creator I pitched this book to told me they loved the concept, that they’d love to contribute to future volumes. That the book looks great so far.

This might seem like rambling and bravado but there’s an important point I’m trying to make here – Comic-Con makes us. Every year deals are initially introduced and discussed – creators meet up, we all talk comics and we all become smarter about the medium – how to make it work and where it’s going next. We leave every con with a fistful of business cards, a book full of notes, a newfound respect and friendship for creators you’ve only known from email exchanges.

After I finish this article I need to start sending follow-up emails to close to thirty people. Not follow-up as in, “it was great meeting you” but follow-up as in, “let’s talk more about that thing we were talking about.”

All from one weekend.

On Friday I overheard two guys talking – one of them saying how he printed out 20 copies of the pitch they put together, full color, and they should be fine. It was obvious from their conversation that they were going in cold – no contacts – with an idea that they thought was going to kill. It kind of reminds me of the guys I see online too often – the ones who have this great idea and they’re willing to page an unknown artist a hundred dollars a page for a five-page pitch because that’s all they need – once someone sees those five pages they’ll be throwing money at their feet – a bidding war will ensue.

I think a lot of us started there, though. I know I did. My first pitch was a gritty story of gods on earth illustrated by a children’s book illustrator friend of mine. Schizophrenic would be a good word to describe it. For my second pitch I paid the talent way too much for pages that didn’t look professional. In both instances I thought they looked fine, that the story will shine through, and that publishers will sign me on the spot.

You get a different perspective when you’ve worked on some high-profile books and when you have a property of your own that people want a piece of. When your meetings aren’t on the con floor – where everyone has little rooms carved out or quite spots they like to retreat to – you realize the decision makers aren’t even present to look at your pitch – that it’ll be left behind in a convention trash bin, underneath half eaten pretzels and ketchup-stained hot-dog holders.

I know of a couple of people at the show who didn’t go to any bars afterwards – didn’t try to sneak into any parties or get invited to any dinner arrangements – their plan was to go from one booth to the next, drop off a submission packet, and then go out with friends/catch a movie/head home.

It just seems like a waste, to me. Even if you live in San Diego. A waste of paper and a waste of a ticket, assuming you didn’t get a pro badge.

So I guess to kind of switch it up a bit, I’d like to hear stories about contacts you’ve all met at cons or things you’ve learned or people who inspired you. Hey, if anyone has a story that involves them dropping off a pitch cold and some days later getting a call from an editor with an interest in publishing it I’d love to hear it – prove me wrong, if you will. But, for the most part, I’m looking for stories grounded in reality. Even if it’s the smallest thing – some guy introduced you to some guy that led to something – that’s fine.

Speaking of little things - Wizard World Chicago two years ago was when Jay Busbee first told me about Western Tales of Terror. WToT led to Elk’s Run which led to Postcards and several other projects that are kicking up. At that very same WWChi I had the two pitches I mentioned earlier in this column. They never got picked up, never even got a call back, but one passing comment from a fellow con-goer led me to working on one some critically acclaimed books.

Hell, my name’s going to be in a book published by Random House come 2007 (Elk’s Run, for those that never listen to me).

So, tell me your stories.

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