Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner (at Comic Con)

fighting imposter syndrome at fests

The day this Thistle Dew is posted know that Chicago’s comic con (C2E2) is happening this weekend. My memory told me 2016 was my first C2E2 and my instagram scrolling later confirmed this. I start feeling nostalgic sentimental about this show, especially when I look through the folder I call “convention history” on my laptop. It serves a couple purposes: 1. reminding me of a table display that I thought worked in the moment, and 2. material to include in different speaking engagements for a new artist considering curated events. In those instances, I explain that if they’re here, and asking questions, they’re already leaps ahead of where I was at my first show. Then I click to the slide of me at Comic Arts LA 2014 (CALA) when I didn’t know I should have brought a table cloth and felt immediately fish-outta-water-y.

This is a photo of that first solo show. Meaning, all my other experiences (two, at this point in time) were with the collective, Yeti Press, in which I’d be behind their table for a couple hours at a time to sign. CALA had me harnessing some secret power I didn’t know I had (maybe that’s just being in your 20’s.) For this show I traveled alone to a city I have never been to, had no close friends there, and used A*rbnb for the first time.

Most of that bravery faded when I arrived to the event space the day of the show. Reality set in and I was feeling exposed. I saw the other creators, a lot of who were professionals in the comic and animation world, begin to lay out their work. They had multiple perfect-bound books beautifully crafted on nice paper. The artist next to me was a screen-printer, I starred as they hung their colorful tote bags. Everywhere I looked, was amazing talent, AND A MATCHING TABLE CLOTHS. [Where was that memo.]

There I was, working 39.5 hours in retail, feeling too green to be in the same room as these real artists. The fact was, that I was underprepared. Standing in that room, all the heat from my body rushed to my cheeks. I thought I was going to cry. I might have. I felt so embarrassed before the doors to the show had even opened. I remember finding the bathroom to splash cold water on face. If not to calm me down, maybe it would cool me down.

I had a lot of friends in bands and I remember thinking about times I’ve seen them perform for nearly empty rooms. The band still finds the reason to put on a good show, even if it’s for the plot or a glorified practice. Yeah — I decided I had to lean into this experience. It was my first show alone, I would HOPE I learn something from this. Even if it was to just buy a table cloth when I get home. What fun is showing up “perfectly” (who decides that anyway?) and not walk away with any new gleanings.

This is when I made my way back to the my table and was introduced to my table neighbors, friends of friends, who lent me their table cloth, offered me a donut, and let me borrow book stands. It’s this kindness that made me feel so welcomed.

There must have been a line outside, because when the doors opened lots of people immediately flooded in. One of the first was a tall guy with dark hair and an empty tote bag ready to shop. He rounded the corner and stopped at my table. I don’t remember if we had a conversation past a greeting, because soon he picked up Fair Voyage and told me he’d like to buy chapter 1. My first sale! I was stoked! The entire cross-country trip was now a success in my eyes because I had sold one book. After he leaves out of ear shot, my table mate leans over and says, “That was J.G. Quintel.”

The brain is funny sometimes, even though you apply to a curated show with your work, and then were accepted, it’s once the creator of Regular Show buys your comic, that’s when you feel like you deserve to be there.

If you’re reading this J.G., thank you so much for being my first sale, at my first solo show, I’m a big fan. Facial blindness helps me not fan out, once again.

---

All of these tips/skills/pieces of comic creator copium that I cultivated during this first show, I still use 10 years later to help with the anxiety and imposter syndrome of it all. Hopefully in sharing this, it helps other creators. If you know of other folks that have share these experiences too, please let me know! I don’t think there’s enough that I’ve seen on the internet.

• I don’t count the sales or money in until the end of the night, at home. I think if I’m hyper aware of this during the show, it’s going to affect the real interactions I’m trying to have with the person in front of me. Even if the show is slow, and I can do simple math, I really try not to.

• Other exhibitors may speak candidly about a “good” day or a “slow” day, but know that it’s all subjective. I know my work is different from my neighbor’s work, and comparing how traffic correlates to my own sales, I’ll never “win.”

• I had to create my own definition of “success” at these shows. Of course earning an income for my artwork is the goal, it’s now my full time job, but I try to not put all the weight only on money. Other ingredients for a successful show could be the people I chatted with, business cards I collected, or new creators I met. Additionally, sometimes the success of the show isn’t even quantifiable until months after, when that follow-up email you sent led to a work opportunity.

• Table neighbors are the best and you are both in this festival together — they will have your back!

• I realized that when hearing what another creator made in a dollar amount at the end of a con weekend was/could be the accumulation of a lot of different factors. They could have been taking commissions, selling originals, debuted a book, or had a new item that they marketed well. There are too many variables!

• If I’m comparing myself or feeling inferior to someone who “sold out” of an item, I’m only going to hurt my own feelings. Truth is, I have no idea how many copies of the thing they brought. Could have been 100, could have been 15.

• Seeing over the years that most folks that approach my table, are feeling just as awkward or anxious as I might be. It’s not personal. (Until it is and then you flag your table mate or a convention worker.)

---

I still have a lot of these imposter syndrome feelings that creep up every time I enter the floor for a convention — how could it not when there are SO MANY extremely talented people under one roof? I am happy with my growth though. I am at a point where I can also lay my beautifully crafted books on my casual-but-feels-like-me table setup AND I have a matching table cloth.

Nowadays conventions feel like a huge friend reunion, especially the local Chicago shows. I’m really looking forward to this weekend for that reason. If you’re coming to C2E2 this weekend, please stop by my table in Artist Alley (T-02) and say hi! If you reference this newsletter, I have these cute Thistle Dew buttons I will give you. I’ll also have some new items: these Earthbound goodies and this Comics Freak sticker!

Now I must continue to pack for the show while listening to:

See you soon,
-Andy