Lied, Cheated and Stole...

By Tony Lee

So, as this column goes live, it's Easter Monday, and more importantly, it's the week of my sixth year in comics.

I've been writing now for twenty-two years– my first paid writing gig was back in May 1987, but written in this very week, all those decades back – I was a ‘Joystick Juggler' for the Spectrum computer games magazine ‘Your Sinclair', and my first work was a variety of amusing games reviews. I was seventeen years old and still in school at the time. And the freelance writing I did during the year I wrote for ‘YS' kept me in between that area of ‘could afford to eat' and ‘abject poverty' during college. And of course my work in ‘Your Sinclair' gave me a portfolio that enabled me to work for other magazines which then led to newspapers, then to radio, which led to the opportunity of television sketches, and by the time I had been in writing for a decade I'd pretty much worked in all forms of creative media. Except of course, comics. Which was the thing I'd wanted to do since I was a child, when I punched the sky and went ‘Yeah! ' when my English teacher wrote on my card that I had a ‘comic book style of writing'.

Of course, this wasn't meant as a compliment – I realised that a lot later.

But six years ago, April the 17^th to be precise, the Thursday directly before Good Friday 2003, I started my path into comics. But first I had to ‘blag' my way in.

To ‘blag' someone is to con, to fool them. But not in a con artist way, to blag your way into a gig, or a club is a usual usage of the term. To blag yourself into anything, really – and I had to blag my way into comics.

Now I've told this story a lot, and it's no secret, but I'll tell it again as I'm not sure if I've really gone into it in depth here. My then significant other had booked me a surprise Easter holiday to New York. It was something we'd been talking about for a long time, and it was an early Birthday present for June.

(Even though we broke up eighteen months later, she's still one of my closest friends in the world, and she never gets tired of reminding me that any success I have is all due to her. And when exactly am I paying her back by taking her on holiday somewhere nice in return...)

It was something I'd wanted to do for years. I'd never been to New York. But even so, I'd still felt some kind of connection with the place, even from thousands of miles away. In the last five years I've been to New York half a dozen times now, have loved it with a passion only ever reserved for my home town of London and have stayed there for weeks at a time, but that first time? Was special for me. Because it was the opportunity to see the comic people for the first time.

Tanya wasn't bothered about comics, but knew better than to try to convince me that I was tilting at windmills. We landed at 1 p.m. on the Thursday before Easter, and we left late on the Monday evening. I had effectively 1 p.m. until about 5 p.m. on the day before Good Friday to speak to the editors at DC and Marvel.

Now, this wasn't a sudden decision – I'd been continually playing with the idea of getting into comics for a year or so at this point – I'd even had a small press story published when I was twenty three, but nothing had come from it and the imprint, Twilight Zone Comics, collapsed.

(Amusingly, Anis, the guy who printed it, turned up to a signing last year and now is a presenter for QVC...)

My first ever 'Marvel Visitor' pass, Marvel, 2003...

But for about six months, from the end of 2002 I'd been actively looking at comics again. I'd met Pat Mills through mutual friends in the nineties, and had interviewed him for a magazine called ‘Burnt Offerings' sometime around 1996. We'd kept in contact and I'd always think ‘perhaps I should give it a go.' I'd emailed industry professionals who I respected, people like David Wohl, Geoff Johns, Mark Waid, the aforementioned Pat and Kurt Busiek, explaining that I was a writer of radio and newsprint who was considering trying my hand at comics. I'd spent years learning from books how to write scripts and from the early nineties I'd probably sent about a dozen ‘Future Shocks' to 2000 A.D. over the years, five page stories that were all shot down. But, I'd not surrendered and in the early months of 2003 I'd pitched Doctor Who Magazine, 2000 A.D. and a variety of other UK based titles to no immediate effect.

But I was a fan of DC. And of Marvel. And I realised that if I could get a meeting – it didn't matter if I gained work. I'd get to visit the fabled Marvel Bullpen. I'd walk through the DC offices. This was the shiny stuff of dreams to me. And so I decided that I had to do this.

I'd been writing some short samples anyway, the only ones I remember were ‘Old Friend', a Doctor Who story where the Ninth Doctor and Rose find themselves at a retirement home where an old man named Peter recognises the Doctor, not by face but by the TARDIS – for when he was a teenager, Peter was a companion of a future Doctor, who introduced himself by giving Peter a key – a key he's held on to all these years. And as the short story continues the Doctor listens intently, treating Peter like an old friend until Peter, after giving the key back to the Doctor passes quietly away. The end is bittersweet, with Rose not understanding how the Doctor can be so glib, where the Doctor replies that time isn't linear, which means that he's not mourning the friend he lost, but looking forwards to a friend he'll one day meet – and after all, he has a key to give him...

The other story was an eight page sample for Batman Black and White which was a big thing back then – I did a story called ‘Batchasers' where we focussed on the cops who were tasked solely with the Batman captures – they were the guys who went and found the Penguin when he's tied to a dock, or picks up muggers tied to lamp posts. And of course, during the tale they meet the man himself. Again, I felt both stories were the mutt's nuts. Reading them back now, they had nice ideas, but the writing was amateur. I was a rookie and I needed to learn.

But anyway. I gained some last minute advice from the professionals. Pat Mills told me that whatever they said to me, to smile and agree. Because no matter what I thought, they were the guys hiring me. Which is true to a point, but I still think that some times you should stick to your guns. Mark Waid told me to contact Joe Quesada directly, but not to bother mentioning his name as he felt (at the time) that actively saying ‘Mark Waid told me to call' would probably hinder me.

And so one afternoon, I emailed Joe Quesada directly. Out of the blue. Cold contact. I even titled the email something like ‘Mark Waid said you'd probably not read this with his name on' or something. I explained in the email that I was a British writer, fifteen years experience in radio and TV, looking to work in comics, was going to be in NYC over Easter and was in the area on the afternoon of the Thursday. And here's where I blagged, because so far everything was true. I then explained that while I was in NYC I'd most likely be seeing DC around 4 p.m. on the Thursday, and was hoping to see Marvel beforehand.

Utter bollocks. I hadn't even spoken to DC. I didn't know who to speak to at DC. But I have optimism that no matter what, I'd get a meeting, if only to wander around.

A day later, Teresa Focarile, the then new talent editor of Marvel (and one of the people behind the EPIC idea at the time) emailed me. Joe had read the email and passed it on. To this day I don't know if he did it because I shamelessly namedropped Waid, or whether he read the mail thinking ‘DC's seeing this guy at 4 p.m.? Why? What's he got that we don't know? We should get him in! ' – But either way I got the email from Teresa who asked to see samples. I sent her radio scripts and the aforementioned two comic scripts I'd written, and she agreed to meet me at 1:30 p.m.

Tony and Teresa Focarile, Marvel, 2003...

Now I'll point out here that the main reason she met me wasn't because I'd bamboozled Marvel – although it didn't hurt – but because I could show a radio and television portfolio of over a decade – and at the time Marvel were starting to look outside the box for new creators. But, as soon as I had that meeting, I phoned DC and asked to be put through to an editor. Any editor. I had no favourites, I liked all their stuff. And by chance I found myself on the phone to DC Editor extraordinaire, Mike Carlin who, after hearing that I was a British writer, fifteen years experience in radio and TV, looking to work in comics, was going to be in NYC over Easter, was in the area on the afternoon of the Thursday and seeing Marvel at 1:30 p.m. – and would like to come by around 4pm, agreed to see me. Probably again because he wanted to know who this guy was who Marvel wanted to see first.

Now to be honest, this story usually ends there, because at the meetings, well, we just had meetings. There were no showtunes, no song-and dance numbers. Teresa sat with me in the Marvel canteen and discussed EPIC ideas. And when I went to DC Mike spent an hour convincing me that comics were a nightmare business to get into, but still introduced me to Bob Schreck (who was passing by) who I'm honoured to still class as a friend.

Did I get work that day? No. And in six years, I have never gotten any work from DC comics, but I still speak to them, and that day when something happens is getting closer – and not just through wishful thinking. New York in February showed me I was finally on the radar.

And Marvel? Teresa allowed me to pitch repeatedly for EPIC, a variety of Nick Fury ideas that never went anywhere, mainly because each time we got to a point we liked, EPIC's goalposts moved (it eventually died a death) but she saw enough talent in me to give me a shot on X-Men Unlimited #1, with one half of a two-story comic (The other being one by another up-and-comer called J.T Krul) that came out in February 2004.

And that comic gave me the ‘comic chops' to get the Starship Troopers license. Which got me Midnight Kiss and Shadowmancer. Which got me Doctor Who for Panini, three years after I first pitched them. Which got me more Marvel work. Which got me graphic novels at Walker Books, Wallace & Gromit, Hope Falls and a variety of other gigs. Which got me work at 2000 A.D. and the IDW Doctor Who comic. Which got me to where I am now.


Tony and Mike Carlin, DC, 2003...

I miss a lot of work out here, and it's an incredibly oversimplified a to b to c list, but the first one was correct. Without Starship Troopers, I'd have never been able to show a longform comic. And people knew Starship Troopers. And I wouldn't have got it if I hadn't been able to wave the X-Men Unlimited #1 at the guys greenlighting the book. And I'd never had the shot to write that if I hadn't had the chance to pitch to Teresa. And I wouldn't have had that unless I'd met her. And of course, I wouldn't have met her if I hadn't lied, cheated and stolen my way into comics.

Six years ago I chanced my arm and blagged my way into comics, using ten years of industry knowledge that really wasn't that relevant. And it's probably one the few things I'm proudest about. Because the last six years have been incredible, and my upcoming seventh, with only a couple of disappointments looks like it's going to be amazing.

I enjoyed the rest of the holiday in NYC too, by the way...

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Now, I mentioned above that there have been disappointments, and the most recent one was this week when we discovered that Hope Falls didn't make the cut to be distributed by Diamond, and as such has had its printing cancelled for the moment.

We needed around four hundred copies pre-ordered. That sounds like nothing, but it's a lot when retailers can't be bothered to order something that they fear might not sell, the distributor makes no effort whatsoever to assist the independent publisher if they don't pay for advertising, and the comic reading population are a ‘wait for a trade' mentality – and by that I mean wait for the trade to appear on the shelf, not wait for the trade to be announced, pick up a phone and ask my comic store to order it.

Am I bitter about this? Hell yes. We had over five hundred emails and people at conventions over the last year asking us when the trade was out. We counted. And we told them all. We even had a Facebook group. And still we didn't get the numbers. If every person to told us they wanted a trade went and ordered the trade? We'd have been distributed. Hell, if only half had, it would have been borderline, because that wasn't including retailers who would have taken a chance on the book. With them? Again, we'd have been out.

Since announcing last week that it was cancelled, we've had dozens of people going ‘oh, I was going to buy this – did I have to order it? ' or ‘Hey, I was going to order it next week, it's not out until May, right? ' but at the end of the day, all the Kings horses and all the Kings men can't put Humpty back together again. The book is cancelled through Diamond, it won't be coming out in May, the signing at Orbital is cancelled as there's nothing to sign, but Dan and I will still do our panel on the Saturday of the Bristol comic Expo – we just need to talk about other things. And to be honest, we do have some possibilities that are cool.

Harry at Markosia reckons that about nine months down the line we might have a new bookstores distributor, and I'm hoping we might ignore comic stores altogether – put it out to the stores that give a crap about indy publishers through something like Haven, and push the sales through Borders, Waterstones, Amazon etc. Which is a shame, because Hope Falls is a collected comic. The comic market should have been ideal. But in a credit crunch world, not enough comic stores took a chance on an award winning comic by two relative unknowns. Ah well.

So sorry guys – we tried. But just not enough.

Anyway, on that bittersweet note, I'll see you in seven. I have a key to give you, you see...

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© 2008, Tony Lee

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