In 2016, I was quite done.

With everything.

And with everyone.

I turned 30 that year, and I was full of hope. The kind of hope that can only be bought with grand plans. 2016 was going to be my year.

Purgatory Pub (book 2) had well and fully whooped my butt. The convention circuit (the only place where my books get sold outside of kickstarter) whooped even harder. I could barely sell a copy. Book 1 sold well. Sold gangbusters at a few cons. Book 2, not so much. It wasn't just me. All my indie comic friends had a rough year. The people at the cons weren’t there for us anymore. I had a shut-out at HeroesCon. The biggest convention in my year in my area. Three days. Zero sales. That had never happened before.

There was a long time pro at Heroes, Tom Lyle, who I idolized as an adolescent and a teen. He turned art professor at SCAD and went to Heroes every year to support his students, recruit more, and generally hand out good natured advice. It was my annual custom to show him my newest comics and get new advice.

“Hey, this is pretty good! Have you tried submitting to any of the indie publishers?”
”Yeah, they’ve all turned me down so far.”
”Have you tried comixology?”
”They turned me down too.”
”Tried posting this on the web?”
”I got no traffic going to that website.”

He gently handed my book back to me and said, “I’m sorry, but I think it’s time to try something else.”

[Didn’t know it then, but that was the last time I’d ever see him. Freak brain aneurism. 66 years old. Sweet guy. I’m gonna be missing him for a long time.]

I tried something else.

I planned a new business. A broadsheet sized collection of fresh new indie comics on newsprint. Self-distributed to coffee shops, free to the public, and ad subsidized. I had dropped 18 months of planning, research, number crunching, and interviewing prospective clients into making it. I had spent money on business cards, brochures, a lawyer (to draw up form contracts), and artists getting a dummy copy of issue one printed (with artist permissions). I spent a month on foot revisiting all the prospective clients, business owners who claimed they would be stoked to advertise with me.

When the day came to sign the dotted and pony up some cash (cheapest ad rates in town no less) they all became decidedly less stoked. Except for three businesses. Three businesses got excited and dropped money.

I didn't meet my break even goal. I had literal holes in all my shoes and no capital of my own to make up the shortfall. I returned the money.

All three businesses went under within 6 months.

I tried something else.

I liked making kids books a whole bunch. I had made two of my own already and I made a third that I would try to get published.

At the prodding of a trusted friend, I joined the SCBWI and dropped $300 on their local conference (my very bottom dollar). Art buyers, and job givers were supposed to descend on Charlotte to review submissions and portfolios and give critical insider information on getting published and making a living with kids books.

7 “pros” showed up.

Four out of the seven were significantly younger than me, and spoke at length, about what a pain in the ass it was to have to fly down to “Charlotte of all places” between sips of $7 coffees. Each of their “presentations” opened with two minutes of “just because I work in a Manhattan High Rise on 5th Avenue, doesn’t mean I work in some ivory tower!” The rest of the “presentations” consisted of worthless information that I found on the internet for free.

I’ll save you the time/money.

Get a current copy of “Children’s Writer and Illustrator’s Market,” research publishers looking for your kind of material and are accepting submissions. double check on their website that they’re still legit, FOLLOW THEIR SUBMISSION DIRECTIONS TO THE LETTER, and submit.

Good luck, kid.

Of the seven pros, two were book agents who told us up front that neither they nor their agency are “accepting new clients at this time, but here’s a presentation on how to get us to represent you if we were.”

One pro was an art director.

One.

The only one in a position to review portfolios and the only one in a position to offer illustration jobs. Except portfolio reviews costed a further $50. Policy of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators.

For context, every comic pro I have ever met EVER has said, “If they charge to look at your portfolio, it’s a scam.”

They were right.

The one art director wasn’t heartless, his hands were just tied. I managed to get him alone for 5 minutes to get some pointers. ANYTHING.

“The art is alright, but your colors… they’re all off and coming from everywhere.”
”Well, there’s a reason for that,” I said. “I’m colorblind. I eye-dropper my colors from other illustrators color pallets. Any suggestions? Maybe a way to do that better?”

His eyes got wide as dinner plates and he handed my portfolio back to me. Avoiding eye contact he said, “I got nothing for you, man. I think you may need to look for something else to do.”

I tried something else.

I made what I thought was a fun kids book about cats. Written and drawn in my one voice, so I liked it okay. Clean language and lots of drawings of cats, so I figured a publisher would like it too.

One did!

We began emailing back and forth. To paraphrase the conversation:

Them: Love your book. Super funny. Very cute. Your colors are a bit… off. Can you change those?
Me: Oh sure, no sweat. I’m colorblind myself, so I can change them to any scheme you like. Here are some samples.
Them: …
Me: You still there? What color treatment do you like?
Them: Sorry. After reconsidering, we won’t be publishing your book after all.

It wasn't the first time the colorblindness costed me a job. It hasn't been the last either.

2016 was the year my heart broke several times.

On the long car ride home from Charlotte, it occurred to me that any act of creation I had made up to that point was done in the face of active discouragement from both forces seen and unseen. Certainly any more things I make after that point would be an act of defiance. A great big Middle Finger to… Someone? Everyone? Myself?

Up until then I was making things under the imprint “Fire Lights Media,” because I thought it sounded cool and it made a neat logo. When I got back home to Megan I said to her, “I’m gonna start making stuff under the banner ‘Coffee and Hate.’ They’re the only things I have left that’ll ever get stuff done.”

Megan is usually the sort who tells me to calm down and “quit being so emo.” On this occasion, without skipping a beat, she said, “Oooooh YES! You should TOTALLY do that!”

I think it sounds better than “Fire Lights Media,” and I think the logo is even cooler. Especially since it comes in so many different flavors.

I’ve been making videos, a short film, kids books, scripts for more comics, and more Purgatory Pub since then. Each with one of these happy little logos attached to it somehow. I made this website as a place to put all that stuff so I could still share it with you. With anyone.

Keep an eye here for the new stuff when it comes out. Or, better yet, Sign up for my mailing list to get notified when new stuff drops. (Just scroll down to sign up.)

AS for the new logo(s), I’m planning to make T-shirts in the near future. Anyone want one?

-Gabe D.