To Infinity and That Other Con

    Two weeks ago, my friend Andrew and I trekked to San Francisco to attend Wondercon: part of the Comic-Con family, and a chance for aspiring writers and artists like us to show all our dorkus peers we exist.

    Our trip began on Friday night, but I spent that morning completing my ongoing mini-comic, which was to act as my business card for the convention. I spent the entire day writing, drawing, copying and printing out 100 of those suckers in preparation for the convention, while my girlfriend acted as moral support, editor and even disciplinarian throughout the entire process.

    When I finished, I met Andrew in LA, and we started the long drive up north. We spent much of our trip discussing the absurdities of life while listening to radio alt-rock and ’60s classics. While Andrew drove, I sat in the backseat, folding and stapling my comics. We made a pit stop in Cambria for the night before we continued to San Francisco and Wondercon — a gathering of geeks in a city of hipsters.

    To get a better idea of Wondercon, you need a base idea of Comic-Con. Over the years, Comic-Con has become one of the world’s most widely attended media events. It’s heaven for anyone who loves video games, movies, television shows and/or comics — everyone, these days. Wondercon, though, is catered to the collectors — the diehards who can’t let a culture go. Everything from toys to Lou Ferrigno to that dude who wore the Chewbacca outfit are put on parade.

    After a quick stroll through the exhibition, we finally got to hustling — or, as Andrew would say, “doin’ work.” We walked among fellow artists, passing out comics and introducing ourselves as a creative team. This is harder than it sounds — not unlike approaching the popular kids in high school and asking them to watch “Star Wars” with you. But once we got into the swing of things, it got easier. Some artists even asked us if we had our own table set up, assuming we were one of them, which was flattering. After we made our rounds, we took one more pass at the exhibition floor and called it a day. The only downside to the trip was a flat tire on the way back home.

    We did learn a few lessons, though. For one, the people our comic would cater to in the real world were not present at Wondercon. (We probably should have done the trip to the Alternative Press Expo.)

    Secondly, we’re not the only ones on the hustle. Everyone and their mother is doing the same thing. If we want to be anybody in these parts, then we best be damn sure that we’re doing our work properly.

    And third, success is a point of view. So many artists working on the same platform swing the pendulum between happy and miserable. I realized that if we are to be happy at all, we need to be happy with the fruits of our labor. If not, then we’ll never be happy no matter how much good comes out of our work. My day could have been ruined by the bad feedback I got for my comic, but instead, my day was made by the effort I put into it. In Andrew’s words: “That was such a good idea.”

    More to Discover
    Donate to The UCSD Guardian
    $200
    $500
    Contributed
    Our Goal

    Your donation will support the student journalists at University of California, San Diego. Your contribution will allow us to purchase equipment, keep printing our papers, and cover our annual website hosting costs.

    Donate to The UCSD Guardian
    $200
    $500
    Contributed
    Our Goal