I had a really good night handing out flyers last Friday. I could only make it one day last week, but Friday was good. I handed out eight. I was only out there for twenty minutes. My next goal is to stay out there for twenty-five minutes. My low goal will be for fifteen minutes. I'm getting used to the idea of doing this, and I don't feel any shyness after I do some of my standard spiel. It's not much, I just say, "I've got a flyer for a book and a web site, you want one?" The whole idea is to get used to the rejection, not so much how many I hand out or whether I sell any books.
I guess that I just want to fail, if failure is the only option, on my own terms. One of the last galleries I submitted to rejected my art not because it was bad art, but because it was good art. I'd had a run-in with this attractive, youngish woman who helped run this co-op gallery here in town. It was the usual bill of fair. I go into these kind of interactions at great length in my books, and I submitted the first Richy Vegas Comics that detailed one, "Anita, You're the Reason I'm Not In Prison."
She just wanted to sweep my submission under the rug, as if I'd never given her anything at all. It wasn't that the art wasn't good, it was because the story hit home with her, and she recognized herself in the antagonists. I decided then and there that I was done with the art world. If I'm going to not be able to show in galleries because my art does what it is supposed to do, I don't see the point. The art world is crawling with women just like her, and douchebag Liberal asshole men who will take up for them out of some misguided sense of chivalry.
All I have to do to get a table at a convention is pay some money, usually. My money is as green as the next guy's, so it's no problem. First come, first served, that's usually about it. The people at Austin Books and Comics are kind enough to let me display on their consignment shelf, so I try to do some advertising, halfway hoping to sell some books that way, but more to try to get used to doing that kind of thing if I start playing out, with the band or solo.
I figure about ninety-six percent of people who set out for a career in the arts and entertainment industry probably fail by most standards of success. If one were to expand the definition of what one would consider success, maybe about ninety-two percent fail. I don't see why I should have any problem with being a part of the vast majority of people who fail to go anywhere in this racket. There's a difference between being a failed artist and being a bad artist.
I guess that I just want to fail, if failure is the only option, on my own terms. One of the last galleries I submitted to rejected my art not because it was bad art, but because it was good art. I'd had a run-in with this attractive, youngish woman who helped run this co-op gallery here in town. It was the usual bill of fair. I go into these kind of interactions at great length in my books, and I submitted the first Richy Vegas Comics that detailed one, "Anita, You're the Reason I'm Not In Prison."
She just wanted to sweep my submission under the rug, as if I'd never given her anything at all. It wasn't that the art wasn't good, it was because the story hit home with her, and she recognized herself in the antagonists. I decided then and there that I was done with the art world. If I'm going to not be able to show in galleries because my art does what it is supposed to do, I don't see the point. The art world is crawling with women just like her, and douchebag Liberal asshole men who will take up for them out of some misguided sense of chivalry.
All I have to do to get a table at a convention is pay some money, usually. My money is as green as the next guy's, so it's no problem. First come, first served, that's usually about it. The people at Austin Books and Comics are kind enough to let me display on their consignment shelf, so I try to do some advertising, halfway hoping to sell some books that way, but more to try to get used to doing that kind of thing if I start playing out, with the band or solo.
I figure about ninety-six percent of people who set out for a career in the arts and entertainment industry probably fail by most standards of success. If one were to expand the definition of what one would consider success, maybe about ninety-two percent fail. I don't see why I should have any problem with being a part of the vast majority of people who fail to go anywhere in this racket. There's a difference between being a failed artist and being a bad artist.
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