ESSAY // 12.12.02

THINKING SMALL
By Lawrence Rider

Mini-comics. They've been around practically forever, but recently they've been turned into a near religious experience, particularly by online activism sites. It seem that everyone who has even a passing interest in the medium has made one. Hell, I've done it myself. So why do people seem to be so mad about them?

First, for those who don't know, a quick explanation of what a mini-comic is.

A mini-comic is generally constructed like a fanzine, normally A5 size, photocopied pages, hand stapled. It's the true starting point for comics, where everyone is equal.

I suppose the main appeal would be to see your name in print, but that can't be the reason alone. Mini-comics are a fair amount of work, and it would be much easier to bang out a submission in the hope that someone else will do all the hard work for you.

They're easy to do, if you can spare the time to write/draw them, find collaborators, hijack the office photocopiers and track down the long arm stapler that Wendy the office hoarder has hidden in her drawer.

They're cheap too, especially if you locate all of the above items, thus using your employers unwitting generosity. Even if you're in the ungodly situation of having to pay, they don't work out too expensive.

But I don't think that that is the main reasons for their popularity. I personally feel that people like them because of the old punk ethic.

Anyone can make one.

Comics aren't like music though. You don't need an expensive set of equipment to make them, just paper, pens (quills in a pinch) and an idea. Never underestimate the power of the last one.

Mini-comics are easily distributed, and can be used to express a variety of ideals. For example, I could easily make a mini-comic that explains why people in Cambridge should vote for the Liberal Democrats and hand them out on street corners, a simple, effective way to spread my message.

If I had more commercial purposes in mind, I could brew up a batch to sell in my local comic shop, failing that in any independent record shop or shop in general that I was on good terms with. I wouldn't make a fortune, but I'd get exposure.

Exposure. That's the main reason for mini-comics. People pass them around to try and raise their personal stock, bringing closer the day when they are hired by a 'proper' publisher and no longer have to make mini-comics. (A notable exception to this is Jim Mahfood, who still produces mini-comics to sell on the convention circuit.)

Which brings neatly to one of the main problems of mini-comics. Nobody really wants to be making them.

Sure, they'll tell you that they like having complete control, and that it's just a fun way of doing things, but at the back of their minds they'll be wishing that they could get could get the bloody thing published, either by themselves or by a third party.

This tends to make the perception of mini-comics very odd. On the one hand you have the comics purists deifying them and extolling their virtues from the rooftops, and on the other you have the average comics reader, who thinks that they look a little, well, amateurish.

Unfortunately they do look very cheap and nasty. Not a problem for someone who likes alternative culture, and maybe reads fanzines. Big problem for the guys and gals who thrill to the monthly adventures of Fainting Goats Lad.

Comic readers these days expect glossy paper; computer colouring and stapling that doesn't look like a baboon performed it, most of which they won't get from your average mini-comic.

Which is why I wouldn't recommend trying to sell them with the intent of retiring. The market won't support that. What they do make however is a good promotional tool.

Case in point. For the Bristol 2001 comic convention Alistair Pulling assembled three mini-comic anthologies that were handed out to attending publishers. These consisted of the work of anyone who had taken the time to donate a piece, with the sole intention of getting the creators involved noticed. To that end the creators contact details were included on the inside covers.

The project was called Never Mind The Comics, and I have to say that I'm damn proud of having been involved in it. To this day I still include a copy of NMTC with all of my submissions, simply because it brings back great memories.

While I don't think anyone picked up paying work from it, it got us all noticed. And at the end of the day, that's what it's all about.

It strikes me that this could be the true strength of the mini-comic. A self-promotional tool that says to a publisher 'Hey! Look what I can do!' And that's definitely a helpful thing when submitting.

Mini-comics can act as an activist tool in many ways. They can be used to promote the comics medium through by virtue of being able to say 'Look. These are real people making these. Real people that aren't 14.' It's easier to accept comics as an art form if it's a friend producing them.

They can be used to promote political and social activism. It's quite likely that someone would be more prepared to read a comic about political issues than a very stuffy looking leaflet that doesn't present itself in an original. It's funny in a way that a medium that's been around for 70+ years can be considered original, but that would be the perception. People outside of the industry don't think of comics as a valid tool for anything other than kids adventure stories. A few well-produced mini comics could easily change that view in a quite a few people.

The cost factor makes them great samplers. Print up a batch of 8-12 page mini-comics, and hand them out free. Force them on passers by, leave them laying around in waiting rooms, coffee shops, bars or anywhere you think would receive them well. Hand them out after concerts. Hell, you could stick them in with the local free newspaper.

At the back of the sampler, include contact details, a link to web comics if you have any, and an advert for future mini-comics. You've then got an instant audience, ready and waiting for what you produce next. Sure, not everybody who picks a sampler up will be willing to buy the next issue, but enough people may. With an established audience and evidence that people are willing to pay for your work getting your ideas professionally published would be much easier.

As mentioned before, they make great tools for pitches. My current practice for any new submission that I make is to put together a five page mini-comic, complete with a cover, and put in along side the usual script/art samples and synopsis. The comic in question is a normally a standalone story that ties into the main submission, and acts a kind of trailer for the series/OGN, making it easier for the editor/publisher to see what they're getting.

It gives them proof that you can do job, an unusual and fun way to find out what a series is like and a potential promotional tool for the book in question, should they choose to publish it. It could easily be reprinted as a short sampler, like the Avatar previews, or it could be put on line, for anyone with an interest to read.

Mini-comics could prove to be one of the most effective ways to change perceptions of comics on a small scale, simply because they're so bloody easy. As Halo Jones said, 'Anyone could have done it.'

Why haven't you?

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