Anyone can talk about doing things differently -- ramble on two times a month about what people should be doing with their money, how they should publish their books, mock their lack of vision and blame them for closing up shop, saying how obvious their mistakes are. It doesn’t take much more than a username and a message board for someone to become an expert in comic production, marketing and distribution.

I don’t want to be that guy, though.

Before the first column went up, I realized I needed to take a bigger risk, or else everything we’re discussing here will never be taken seriously. So, I’d like to announce POSTCARDS -- a 144-page hardcover anthology that will be funded, marketed and distributed using the ideas discussed and debated here in The Hive.

This book is going to be produced publicly -- how it’s being put together, how it’s being sold, what lessons I’m learning, what works and what doesn’t. I’m hoping that by putting it all out there, I can inspire folks to have faith in some of the ideas and to try them with their own books.

What is POSTCARDS about? Who is in it so far? Why an anthology? Will you be able to contribute?

All of those questions (and more) will be answered over time on the POSTCARDS Production Blog (and I have a couple of posts waiting for you, already). For now, however, we have work to do; by early next year, we’ll have a book to put out.

I hope this article isn’t full of revelations. Honestly, I hope 90% of you read this and say, “Duh, obviously, why are you wasting my time?” As you can see by the title, this is only Part I of “The Neighborhood”, and Part I starts, well, in your neighborhood.

Let me ask you a question -- what’s the difference between the 70-year-old lady who lives next door to you, and a 70-year-old lady who lives three-thousand miles away?

Well, while neither of them gives a shit about comics, the 70-year-old lady next door to you will buy yours.

Now, I’m not advocating going door-to-door and selling your comic books. I actually don’t think that’s a good idea at all; I think it cheapens your product considerably. What I’m saying is: distribution starts at home, where you’ll likely get the highest cut for your books and you won’t have to worry about shipping. Where you have more flexibility to work out consignment deals with businesses you trust, and if someone doesn’t pay up, you won’t need to hire some muscle to kneecap them, you can do it yourself.

You can offer better discounts, you can get more press, and you can play the “good neighbor” card -- people want to see local businesses and entrepreneurs succeed; it’s something to be proud about. Plus, the smaller your neighborhood is, the better your chances of building a local “event” around your comic.

And I’m not just talking comic shops. You don’t even need to have a comic shop near you (but if you do, you should offer to do a signing at every one of them). I’m talking about local businesses, the pillars of your community -- fellow businessmen and women just trying to help each other along.

Next door to me is a trendy coffee shop; always has a good crowd. I go in there at least once a week and chat with the owner. Every Christmas they roll out this little table of gifts made by local artists, not necessarily coffee-related; POSTCARDS will fit in well on that table next year.

POLITICS & PROSE is a local bookstore in the DC area, with 25 years in business; I used to live a block away from it. At a party over the summer, I schmoozed with their comic buyer; turns out his girlfriend works for the company Robin manages. I’ll be sure to give him a complimentary copy of POSTCARDS; maybe try to get a signing set up.

Every Saturday from Spring through Fall there’s an outdoor antique show down the block from me. Not the trashy type of antique show, either -- it’s the kind where people with disposable income look for overpriced knick-knacks to hang on their walls; doesn’t even matter if it’s an antique, really. Tables aren’t too expensive, I can sell one and a half copies of POSTCARDS and break even (as far as cash made vs. cash for table). I’d need to sell one and a half copies of POSTCARDS, a book inspired by antique postcards, which I’ll be selling at a table next to some guy who’s selling antique postcards to people who collect antique postcards.

If I can’t sell one and a half copies at a venue like that, I shouldn’t be producing anything for profit.

Your day job has a Christmas crafts sale, free tables, one hour at lunch time; bring your book. Parents are always looking for stuff not on their kids’ Christmas lists. Your neighborhood is having a book sale; bring your book.

Down here in DC, my comic creator group, the DC Conspiracy, threw the Washington, DC Counter Culture Festival, an event that will soon get its own column. We had live music and movie screenings; invited local fashion designers, comic creators, musicians, etc.; and we worked it out with the bar and bands so that it didn’t cost us a dime. The tables were free, and we all sold a good amount of books. We threw a party for our comics. A big, friggin, drunken party!

Send copies to local papers; local news stations. Spend a couple of bucks to sponsor a little-league baseball team if you have a kid’s comic; go to elementary schools on career day and talk to kids about comics, give them a little hand-out on creating comics with information on how to order your books for mom and dad.

Is this going to be your sole source of comic book revenue? God, I hope not. But it’ll be much cheaper marketing than ads in PREVIEWS to sell books you’ll likely get your highest profit margin on to people who know you or at least have some sort of connection to you. And if you’re turning a small profit at home, it’ll free up some money to invest in things you normally wouldn’t even consider.

Like a publicist, to get you in the national papers, magazines and radio shows so you can generate some serious buzz and get a good literary agent interested in your book so you can score a deal with a major publisher and sell your book and move on to the next project.

And I know you’re thinking, “Wait, isn’t this just Part I of The Neighborhood?” Well, yeah. And I guess it can end here if you live in a medium-sized utopia where people tend to be friendly and supportive, where there’s plenty of money to go around and where your ultimate goal is to sell your book to a major New York publisher and be done with it.

But I don’t plan on selling POSTCARDS, and my little nook in Arlington, Virginia is turning into mid-rise, high-priced condos and a tapas restaurant on every corner.

Sometimes we want to (and even need to) build up some buzz outside of our little world -- and we may be able to emulate that neighborhood feeling with the 70-year-old woman who lives 3000 miles away without using a distributor and still get a decent percentage of the retail price put into our pockets -- but that starts next week.

The discussion today, however, is fairly simple: Where and how can we sell our books within our own neighborhood?