So I'm writing an autobiographical comic. I think it does not suck, but it has grown beyond the size where I could pay someone to do 6-8 pages and publish it as a webcomic or mini comic. We're up to 96 pages already. I know I have no chance of finding someone to pitch in on something that huge as a labor of love and there's no way I could pay anyone to draw that much. So here's a possible solution: crowd source the thing. I want you to volunteer to pencil/ink one page. That's all. You do the first page and hopefully someone else will do the second page. Another artist will do the third page and so on. We'll publish the pages as they come out online and I'll collect em into a mini-comic once we have enough for a narrative.
Not a bad solution, huh? I think the end product will be a really interesting pastiche. You probably want to know what it's about? It's about depression, Phish, music, friends, and all the stupid things you do when you're 20. Here's the first page:
Like its 1999
Chapter 1: 1/1/99-1/2/99
Rob and Fritz in the bedroom of Apartment 9. The room's about 15x15 with a loft bed against the back wall. Underneath it and turned perpendicular is another twin bed. There's a little desk area next to the bottom bunk and a closet on the right. That's the whole room. Two people live in this room, and two more in an identical room on the other side of the living area. But right now the apartment has about six extra guests sleeping on floors and couches. Backpacks and clothes are piled everywhere. Fritz half lays on the top bunk. He grips the railing and leans over to look at Rob. The both have long hair, down to the middle of their backs. Fritz wears a pony tail, Rob wears his down. Both have big, owlish glasses. Fritz is wearing a Phish long sleeve tee, Rob has on a mechanic's jumpsuit. The blue and white striped kind you can find at Army/Navy surplus stores.
So could I maybe buy a little bud from you?
Fritz doesn't move but frowns with one side of his mouth. Rob is little better than a pan-handler here. But he's caught Fritz in a position where it'll be hard to refuse. He tries to think of a reason to say no. Rob is trying to look as cool as possible: "Hey, man, it doesn't matter either way."
I dunno, I've got less than an eighth left.
Rob spreads his hands and presses his point. Fritz realizes he's gonna have to give in and sits up, groping for his bag.
Well I promised my friend in Philly that I'd bring her some good nugs. Maybe just enough for a bowl?
This was pretty much a lie. I had told Sue about the good pot you could get at a Phish show, but she didn't care if I brought any back or not. Smoking weed wasn't something she had to do every day.
Close up of Fritz's hand holding a piece of good weed wrapped in a cigarette cellophane.
Is $10 ok?
Reaction shot of Rob. He's nonplussed. He didn't expect to actually cough up any money.
Sure. Hey I gotta get started if we're gonna make it to the show in time.
Fritz probably knew I was bullshitting him. I'd say that's why he asked for money. Usually in this situation the guy trying to skeeze the pot offers some small token sum and is refused. Making your hard-up friends pay you for little buds out of your own stash can earn you a reputation as a miser. A Scrooge. Nobody wants to be thought of that way, cuz someday the situation will be reversed.
There we have it. I eagerly await your responses!
email me at email@example.com
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Collaborative comics. Entertaining games and exercises for comic authors organized around various themes.
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