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About a year ago I was in a bind.  I hadn’t gotten an exclusive contract with DC and there were a few scripts on the table that I could choose from.  It sounds silly, but I’ve never had the option of CHOOSING a script before (as freelancers, we usually take what we can get or what pays the bills).  So for the first time in my life, I had the luxury to choose what I wanted.  This made me look at the scripts in a new kind of way.

The thing about being a comic artist is that it’s hard for you to keep your identity.  You can lose track of what you WANT and what you LIKE in pursuit of finding something, ANYTHING to pay the bills.  You’re not a gallery artist who’s free to follow your heart’s content—you’re more of a chameleon who waits around for a script.  And after working in comics for 6 years, my brain is now wired to be dependent on scripts in order to function.  

In happens to most everyone in comics to some degree.  You’re trained to NEED a writer, which might be why most guys never feel comfortable becoming their own writer.  In my opinion, an artist who can also write is an artist who gives himself more options when the script is late.  But most people don’t think this way.  There aren’t a lot of Phil Hesters, Paul Popes and Frank Millers in the world, and they had to fight to get what they wanted.

Of course, there are a lot of other reasons why comic artists lose their identity.  They get extremely tired and burned out on deadlines.  They spend so much time DRAWING that there’s no time for exploration or messing around with new techniques.  And there’s always that pressure (at least in the US) to have some sort of “house” or “mainstream” style.

So there I was looking at a few scripts from Marvel and DC.  And like I said, it was the first time I’d ever experienced the rare opportunity to pick a script that I was actually into.  And being a bit of a writer myself, I was able to see plot flaws and weak structures in one of the pitches.  In fact, it was the pitch that DC thought I was most likely to pick simply because the writer had a bigger name than the other writers on the other two pitches.  The editor was already moving forward with the project because what artist in their right mind would turn down a script by so-and-so (I can’t mention his name)?

But I turned it out.  I got on the phone and explained to the editor that, even though so-and-so is a “name” in comics, the script just wasn’t grabbing me.  And I was sure to be political.  I didn’t say “this script sucks”, I said “this script could be great, but it’s just not me.”  And although he was nice on the phone, apparently he was really pissed off.  I only found out through his assistant a week later at a lunch meeting.  According to the assistant, he was so offended that he told his staff to not offer me work again.  In the end I knew I was safe because the boss of Vertigo was on my side, which meant the editor couldn’t hold the grudge for too long.

I didn’t give that incident a lot of thought throughout the next year while I cranked on Hellblazer (and now Joe the Barbarian).  But the other day I came across something in a Carl Sagan book.

In one chapter Carl describes how he had to decide if he wanted to take a job in biophysics or exobiology (they sound very similar to me as well, but apparently there’s a difference).  Carl ended up turning one down because, although he loved ALL science, he would rather work on something he loved because he knew it would inspire him to be his best.  

Sounds obvious, but I’d lost track of his point: we do our best work when we’re excited the project.  And I think about how little I’ve heard the question “Sean, what are you INTO?  What book would YOU like to draw?” from an editor.

But at San Diego last month, a Marvel editor asked me this.  And I didn’t know what to say.  I felt like a window inside my soul had been opened, one that had been slowly shut over the past 6 years.  I finally answered “ Punisher, Logan, or Daredevil.  Something cool but off the radar.”  He looked at me and said I looked like a Logan-kind-of-guy…which made me feel great.

Why don’t editors do that more often?  Don’t they know that if you put an artist on a book that he/she LIKES, he/she is more likely to kick some ass when it comes to the artwork?  But I know a lot of editors don’t have that kind of power and are just looking for people to fill in when another guy is late.  It would be NICE if the industry worked like that (and it should work like that), but I’m not naïve enough to think that it does.

To tie this all together, the book that I turned down has hit the shelves over the past few months.  So I checked out some reviews the other day, curious if I’d made a huge mistake in turning down a script by so-and-so.  And the reviews of the book seem to give it around a “C” rating.  The main complaint on the book was exactly the complaint I remember having when I read the pitch.  Which made me feel totally justified when I walked away.

There’s no moral here.  I don’t want to talk anybody down and suggest that “I’ve found the way” or anything that egotistical, but we can all agree on this: it’s way more fun to work on scripts with characters you enjoy.  It’s true that it hard to be picky when you’re a freelancer, and we all have to take bad scripts from time to time to pay the piper.  But even in comics, despite the wrap that you’re a “chameleon artist”, being aware of what you WANT (and having the will to go after it) is not only a way of being happy, but also a way of protecting yourself.

No matter how hard you try on a book you don’t like, the very NATURE that you don’t like it means that you’re not working at 100%.  And since each book is like a resume for the next editor who comes along, why not fight for something you LOVE to ensure that the art is as good as you can make it?