I write comics.

I don’t write a lot of comics.  And the ones I do write…I have to wonder if they’re all that good. In fact, the only comic I’ve written that you may have possibly kind of sort of maybe heard of–Division 18–had only one measly issue actually go to press and appear on comic store shelves.

Dream come true? Absolutely. But it was a black and white comedy book. It was published by a now-defunct small press publisher. We had a print run of less than 1000 copies. Not exactly the type of comic 8-year-old Marvel Zombie me was hoping to create as an adult. I’m happy, but the itch has not been fully scratched.

But there won’t be much more scratching where D18 is concerned. The co-creator and artist on that comic, Jeremy Donelson, and I decided that it was “better business” for us to just put our work online for free–three full issues are now available on the D18 site–than it would be to put up hundreds of our own dollars, maybe thousands over time, to self-publish and promote a printed version of our comic. And web comics require just as much time, with even less hope for a payoff. We can’t all be Scott Kurtz.

And therein lies the problem–the creator’s dilema when it comes to working up from the bottom, trying to scratch out something from nothing:  Where is the line between a job and a hobby? And when does a dream turn into a drag?

The time commitment alone was already getting to be too much for us one issue into D18–particularly for Jeremy, who would put in hours a day penciling, inking, lettering, formatting, etc, all the while working a full-time job and knowing there would probably be no return on his time investment. Let me tell you a not-so-secret secret: in that respect, it is definitely easier to be the writer–some days I can sneak hours of writing time in at work; and at home, the effort of typing at a keyboard is nothing compared to what an illustrator has to do at his or her drawing table, re: the space, the setup, the supplies, etc. I try to make the job of my artists as easy as possible when I write a script, but I still don’t envy the amount of effort they need to put into just one panel, let alone a full project.

But psychologically, the small press, no-name, just-starting-out writer and artist are in the same boat, wondering if all the effort is going to ever pay off. And if it does pay off, will it be enough? What kind of payoff are we even hoping for? I couldn’t tell you.

Creatively, I am very happy and satisfied with Division 18. Professionally? I’m pretty sure it’s a dead end. And now I am happily plugging away at smaller projects, antholgy pieces and the occasional ambitious pitch, for the most part. I accept the realities of the “return on investment” of time and effort and money that I’m going to get for what I am willing to put in. In many respects, I’ve made a willful decision to exchange hustle for happiness. If I can catch lightning by coming up with that great idea that just has to get out of my brain and onto the page, I will be all over it and it will be awesome. But I’m also content working at a hobbyist’s pace, especially considering my recent distracting health issues, my desire to actually spend time with my wife and daughter, and the fact that I already have a “real job” that I don’t exactly hate and that pays better and more consistently than any full-time gig as a comics freelancer would–not to mention the fact that any writing I do still requires the time and effort of an artist (and sometimes a team of artists–lettering, inking, coloring) who are also willing to work for free.

And as I learned with D18, nobody wants to do that.

The best I can hope for–and I suspect this is the reality for a lot of wannabe creators–is that I can find a venue for a piece before convincing an artist that four, eight, or twelve pages guaranteed to be printed in an anthology or submitted to Zuda or packaged with my script in a pitch will be worth it for them in the long run.

I’ve been doing a lot of work with Renzo Ventrella for the DC Conspiracy’s Doctor Dremo anthologies, a self-publishing effort where I can promise that the books will be available online, at small press conventions, and in a handful of stores…and then I take care of our share of the print costs. It’s not a lot of money, but it is a gesture of gratitude and really all I can afford. I’ve also just started receiving final pages for an eight-page comic I wrote for a charity anthology from Ronin Studios–no monetary cost for me, and I was able to connect with an artist who was willing to put in the time and effort for a good cause. Arie Monroe has done a knockout job drawing this comic despite struggling with all the same time and money constraints that have been the thorn in my own creative side.Making comics this way is a giant pain in the ass, there’s a ton of doubt as to whether it is ever going to pay off in any way, and every now and then I have to question whether it’s worth it.

But then I remember: At least we’re making comics.

That’s enough, right?