It?s no secret that most all creators who have a booth at Comic-con are lusting after that one big Hollywood score. You know, the one where Mr. Hollywood Producer/Agent Dude (HPAD), comes by your booth, falls insanely, madly in love with your book, whisks you off into a side room and begs you to sign a multi-million dollar contract (before anyone beats them to the punch) with movie rights and DVD payoffs and TV series spin-offs and posters and T-shirts and signings and all the other trappings ofIt?s no secret that most all creators who have a booth at Comic-con are lusting after that one big Hollywood score. You know, the one where Mr. Hollywood Producer/Agent Dude (HPAD), comes by your booth, falls insanely, madly in love with your book, whisks you off into a side room and begs you to sign a multi-million dollar contract (before anyone beats them to the punch) with movie rights and DVD payoffs and TV series spin-offs and posters and T-shirts and signings and all the other trappings of success.
That?s why the HPADs show up. They?re looking for the next property to be Spiderman big. Things is, while the HPADs are in no hurry to give you all that you want, we have what they want (in theory), so there?s a bit of a game going on. And of course, every creator there just knows?[i]absolutely knows[/i]?that his or her book or idea is just the greatest one ever, and that it would be worth millions if only one of the HPADs would open their eyes and see our inherent brilliance?and marketing potential.
So you man your booth all day long, every day. It?s tiring. The days are long, generally 10 am to 7 pm. A friend at the show said to me that when he first heard about creators complaining about the long hours, he thought we were just being whiners. But after a few days, he said to me, ?you know, this really is hard. You?re on your feet all day, you have to be on all the time. You?re not here just hanging out it. It?s work.?
And it is.
But there?s the rush. We lust for it. We need it. The HPAD high.
Selling books at the booth is good. Very good. But if you?re not having the greatest sales day?and even if you are?we?re all the while waiting for the HPADs to come by and see that brilliance I was talking about. We want it. We all want it.
So when an HPAD stops by and seems to genuinely like what you do, even spends money to take away your book and leaves a business card with you saying they?ll follow up, you?re stoked. You got the buzz. The rush. Now, we know it could all be B.S. We know it?s their job to scout out properties. With some HPADs, that?s all they do. Scoop up properties so no one else can make them, and then leave them in a locked closet. And we know that very few comic book projects ever amount to anything movie- or TV-wise, and that even when they do it can take years, if ever, and the money is rarely even a fraction of what you hope.
But still.
We all want to be the one who wins the lottery. So when HPADs shine us on, we love it. We?re high. We?re high-fiving. We?re stoned on the dream.
For about 10 minutes.
And then the buzz wears off, we?re deflated even, and we revert to just being some mostly unknown dude at his booth selling our goofy little books for a few dollars. Until the next HPAD comes along. Which could be in 10 minutes.
Or three hours. Or the next day.
Or never.
There are no guarantees. There are no promises. It can be so completely random as to how many HPADs stop by, if any do.
So all through the convention, me and Rich Henn and Rich Koslowski are there, all trying to sell our books, looking to sniff out the HPADs from a distance, because they can be sneaky. A lot of them have the HPAD look, so we just know right off who they are (kinda like how TV criminals can always spot a cop). The HPADs, for the most part, are well groomed, usually in jeans and a dress shirt, with their name badges turned around so you can?t see who they are right away. They?ll tell you they?re an HPAD when they?re ready. Not all HPADs are like this, but there?s a lot.
But once they show interest, you put on your best smile and you sell your book. You sell yourself. You want to get them excited?interested?in your book, with the idea there?s a way to turn it into a TV show or a movie, and for the HPAD to make money off you.
And being the writer dudes that we are, we jump at the chance to snort another line of HPAD … to get high, ride the buzz … and then come back down. Again.
This is how it goes all week long. Jonesing for that HPAD high.
Of course, what we [i]really, really[/i] want is that big, fat, juicy never-have-to-work-again deal, but until it comes along, until one is in writing and the money?s in our bank account, the HPAD high is all we get. And during what can be a long week behind the booth at Comic-con, we’ll take it.
Post edited by: rcolchamiro, at: 2007/08/02 15:37
Post edited by: rcolchamiro, at: 2007/08/02 16:20
