Today I went to Jet City Comic Con down in Tacoma. I barely made back what I owe my table-mate for my half and the cost of some convention center-priced snacks.
But I didn't worry about it. I wasn't afraid that it was a judgement on me, on the salability of my work or anything like that. I've been to bigger cons and made a good profit. This was just not a con with a ton of people walking around buying stuff, and I know that now. I can just shrug it off and decide not to go next year. And hey, maybe I made a few new fans who I'll see at Emerald City with copies of book 2 of Rita on sale.
Yet another signpost on my journey to being a seasoned pro, I suppose. Hopefully Bent-Con next week will make my wallet happy. Or at least pay for a trip down to San Francisco where I can catch a little sun.
Hah! Going to SF for the sun reminds me of that line in Casablanca where Rick says he came to Casablanca for the waters. “Waters? Casablanca is in the middle of the desert,” Louis retorts. Rick: “I was misinformed…”
Trust me, it’s still better than Seattle right now.