Our Top Story
Anyone remember the comic book called Proposition Player? I wrote it, and created it, and based it, very loosely, on my years in Las Vegas, one year of which I spent working in the illustrious El Cortez casino as a proposition player (which is a little bit like a shill, but not really).
It was about poker, and many of the superstitions of poker players. Its premise was simple enough: All of those superstitions were true and factual.
So as not to entirely bury the lede, all rights to Proposition Player recently returned to me. DC Comics originally published it and let go of the rights to publish it yesterday (or in a few days, if one insists on measuring such things from when the final paperwork comes through).
Why is this worth mentioning? Because, I’ve long wanted to revisit the world of Joey Martin, the often-hapless protagonist, and his gods and demons friends and adversaries, and now I’m free to do so. I’m also free to entertain those fat and sassy offers from Hollyweird execs, whom I know were just biding their time all these years, to swoop in and scoop up the movie and/or TV rights.
So here I am, sitting here on this gold mine. Why isn’t my phone ringing off the hook? Wait. Do phones still have hooks? No?
The entire six issues of Proposition Player were included in my omnibus collection of all sorts of odds and ends I’d written or drawn for DC Comics over the years. Basically anything I did for DC/Vertigo that wasn’t superhero stuff, or Fables stuff, was put into this book. It was called Bad Doings and Big Ideas (which was an affectionate nod to the Berni Wrightson art piece called, Bad Doings in Nuckledown Lonesome — one of my favorite titles of anything, ever). I have no idea if DC still has any copies of Bad Doings and Big Ideas, but if they do, that’s where you’re most likely to find a reasonably-priced copy of the Proposition Player series.
Writing Advice
This time we’re not going to talk about the skill and craft of writing stories, and of how to do that part better. We’re not done talking about that, not by a long shot, because storytelling is too important to ignore for long. Without fear of hyperbole, I suggest that storytelling is the foundation upon which all of human civilization is built. Rather than our ability to walk upright, which is how we’ve named ourselves (Homo Erectus indeed — and why is that, since so many critters can walk upright?), the ability and need to tell stories is what separates us from the animals. We are in fact the species called Homo Fabulous, because we tell stories.
But let’s digress slightly for a moment to discuss the business side of storytelling, which is also worth exploring from time to time. This time let’s deal with the often sticky business of how one navigates some of the pitfalls and trials of actually working in the writing field, rather than how to write.
Do you have time for an eight-volume set of books covering this subject? Because that’s what it would take to even begin to scratch the surface of this subject in a comprehensive way. No, I’m no scholar with that sort of time. But, as in the writing advice, I do have a few things I’ve picked up along the way (usually by doing it wrong and being stung by the results), and I’m willing to pass what I know along to you.
There are a few adamant rules I’ve had to learn the hard way. Let’s start with this one: Bill’s rules for working with a publisher. Any publisher:
Don’t work with (for) any publisher whose top guy you cannot get on the phone. And don’t work with any publisher who thinks you’re working for him, not with him.
Yes, we’ll unpack that just a bit with an anecdote or two.
During his years-long run as DC Comic’s top guy (I think he was Jeanette Kahn’s executive officer for a while and then was booted up one slot when she left DC to make movies) Paul Levitz would always take my calls. Granted, there were times when he was in a meeting, or otherwise not immediately available, but he’d take my calls when he could, and call me back right away when he wasn’t immediately able to pick up the phone. In an association with DC Comics that spanned four decades, this ability to go directly to the top guy (or woman — put down those pitchforks, kids, Jeanette would also take my calls, even though I once crushed her foot in my giant snow boots at one of the DC Christmas parties) was essential, when things went balls-up and fires needed to be put out.
And even when things were running smoothly, it was good to know Paul would be there, for those times when things suddenly didn’t run smoothly. In fact, I got in the habit of calling him once a year, regardless, just to make sure the lines of communication were still open.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Paul, this is Bill Willingham. I’m just making my annual check in call, to make sure you’re still willing to pick up the phone.”
“I am still willing. How’s it going? Anything I need to deal with?”
“Nope. Things are going swimmingly for now.”
“Excellent. Barring disasters, I’ll speak to you in a year.”
And so on. Often we’d chat about his elite NYC poker game, or one year it was all about the Hugo Awards, the first year Fables got nominated for one. But mostly it was a quick call to check the lines.
I won’t go into detail here about the many times it wasn’t just to check the lines, and some problem had to be dealt with, but those happened often enough.
Anyone remember Cross Gen? Back in the days of the big Cross Gen experiment in a new (old) way of comics publishing (the idea was that everyone would physically move to Florida and work in the same sprawling offices, in order to produce more efficiently). I had a few preliminary talks with one of their editors about the possibility of joining the team. Before those talks could get serious, and waste their time and my time, I did my standard experiment and called the main guy and financier, Mark Alessi.
“Cross Gen (no, ‘Hello, this is Cross Gen,’ or ‘Good Afternoon, this is Cross Gen,’which was immediately a bad sign).”
“Hello, my name is Bill Willingham. I’d like to talk to Mark Alessi, please.”
“What is this about?”
I introduced myself with a few of my credits up until then. “I was approached about possibly coming to work with Cross Gen and this call is to see if I can get the top guy on the line.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Alessi doesn’t deal with the writers and artists. You need to talk to your editor.”
“But he calls the shots, right?”
“It’s his company.”
“And there’s no way he’ll take my call? You won’t even check with him to see if he’ll take my call?”
“He’s too busy. I can connect you to (insert name of some middle functionary).”
“Thank you, no. I have everything I need.”
And that’s all I needed to know I wouldn’t be working with Cross Gen, much less for Cross Gen. Their company folded within a year or two after that.
So, this then is my advice. If the company you might work with is too big for the top guy to take your call, it’s too big for you to be a part of it. And, truth be told, it has nothing to do with how big or small the company is. Some of the smallest of them are run by arrogant martinets who’re much too important to deal with a mere storyteller in his storytelling empire. Some of the largest of them are run by more humble types who know where the stories actually come from. And some companies have been around long enough that the good bosses and the bad bosses come and go. As its leadership changes, so too does its attitude of how to conduct their business. That’s why one checks, often.
Do the test. Call the top dog to see if he’ll take your call. It doesn’t guarantee the company will be ethical and treat you fair. But if he’s not willing to take your call it almost guarantees the company will be unethical and treat you like dirt.
A final note (for now) about this subject. Once in conversation with the late great George Perez, he opined, “DC Comics only loves you if they don’t currently have you. If you’re already working for DC in any capacity, you’re ignored. They already have you, so why bother? It’s the freelancers they don’t currently have in their stable that they love, with true love, and will romance and pursue and call and wine and dine.” Shortly after this conversation, when the comic series Fables was just ramping up, I realized this was the secret to my version of Prince Charming. He’s only interested in the chase. If he’s pursuing you, then he really does love you with true love. Once he has you firmly in his clutches he loses interest. Thank you, George, and thank you DC (at the time) for unlocking the secret to crafting a great rogue of a character.
Commissions Update
Some of you careful readers will know I’ve opened up my commissions list recently. It’s already gotten pretty full. As of this writing I have room for one more full-sized commission and two more of (what we’re calling) the cameo sized commissions. That’s it. Then I have to go back to my other work, which also filled up to overflowing at the same time as my drawing list (when it rains it pours, neh?). If you’re interested, strike now. Contact my pal Brad Thomte at brad.thomte@gmail.com to get all of the terms and conditions and to possibly get on the rapidly disappearing list.
Our Joke of the Week
When my wife told me to stop impersonating a flamingo, I had to put my foot down.
Our Parting Benediction
Convention season is rapidly approaching again. I invite you to be kind and mannerly when you’re there. Also, don’t pause at the top of the escalators. There are people coming up right behind you.
I love Proposition Played. One of my favorite Vertigo books and always wished it was an ongoing.
That Proposition Player news sounds fun!