Alex Groff
Mar 17, 2005, 06:09 pm
<img src="http://www.comixfan.com/xfan/images/columns/te_logo.gif" hspace=10 align=left width=115 height=100 border=0 alt="Typographical Errors">by Alex Groff
So far, it probably seems as if I'm talking out of both sides of my mouth. "Wait, you said you wanted more ongoing stories, but then you said that stories should have a clear beginning, middle and end." "Wha? You don't like miniseries, but now you're writing a column about miniseries?" Well, yeah. Each format, each style serves a purpose. Neil Gaiman was talking about the way art schools had begun teaching styles Dave McKean had created, and what Gaiman found amusing was the fact that these styles were created to solve a specific problem. The way a story is written, drawn and published should match the story: each format has a purpose, and, used well, the results can be amazing.
So what is the purpose of the miniseries? I've already expressed my dislike of the miniseries as a form because it serves the shame purpose an original graphic novel does. I'm not entirely against miniseries— especially considering that it's much easier to sell 4 $3 issues than it is to sell one $10 book— but I would like to think that we as readers will mature to the point where they're not necessary anymore. Stand-alone miniseries are a necessary evil: nothing more, nothing less. For probably two years, I couldn't think of a good reason for miniseries to exist.
Something changed my mind: my favorite books were canceled. Warlock, The Crew, Soldier X and Wildcats, Version 3.0 to name a few. More than just books I like, a plethora of books have been canceled, often before making it past twelve issues. Remember Marvel's Tsunami titles? How many are still around? Most of the titles Marvel has launched in the past year have been canceled or are threatened with cancellation. Even award-winning fan-favorite books like Runaways and She-Hulk went on hiatus in order to try and build support. DC's Focus line has fared no better, and more than a few titles teeter on the edge of cancellation.
Something is obviously wrong when books can win awards, gain the praise of fans, and still not gain a willing readership. How many books have ended incomplete, leaving the reader hoping for an ending? How many books have ended incomplete, only to have that storyline forgotten when the book was relaunched? And— as if its not obvious to anyone in charge— new titles are still being launched with abandon. Low-selling books are canceled to be replaced with new low-selling books, and the cycle repeats. So I started wondering, what can be done about this?
The other change is that I started buying a lot of older Vertigo stuff. Animal Man, Kid Eternity, Lucifer and Black Orchid to name a few. And all of those titles have something in common. They began as miniseries. And the answer seemed clear. Like most lessons, we had already known the truth, but, at some point, we'd forgotten it. Miniseries can and should be a launching pad for new series.
Vertigo was faced with an interesting problem when it began: it was a new imprint, a foray into a genre that hadn't been well-handled since the fifties, and it had to worry about attracting an audience while still maintaining costs. So Lucifer began as one of the The Sandman Presents... miniseries. Animal Man began as a 4-part miniseries by Morrison and Truog. In both cases, when the miniseries sold well, the editors realized it could work as a series and made it an ongoing with the same creative team. The readers know what to expect, because they've seen the characters and the creative team's style. And, if the miniseries does poorly and sales do not permit an ongoing series, the readers are still happy to have the entire story.
Compare this to Marvel's recent business practices. Whenever a series is canceled, someone argues that "Marvel's a business, we/they still have to make money." It's true. Vertigo editors Berger and Shelley realized the importance of coasts as well,, but they also knew that shortchanging fans would only hurt their image in the long run. If they canceled a book midstory, people would be less willing to try another book for fear it would also be canceled. I admit— I'm not interested in trying any new Marvel series, because of Soldier X, The Crew and Warlock. Two of those titles were not even allowed to finish out their storylines. I will reluctantly try miniseries like Madrox and Phoenix: Endsong (based on Pak's writing), but I'm unwilling to invest in a story if I'm not going to get the whole story.
There are flaws with the Vertigo model, and I would point you to Black Orchid and Kid Eternity as examples. Both of these started with a miniseries that led to the series, but— in both cases— the creative teams changed between works. While a great way to attract attention to a book ("Based on the hit miniseries by Gaiman/McKean... by Morrison/Fegredo"), it is not an accurate measure of how the series would do. Readers do not know what to expect from the new creative teams, and editors/publishers do not know how sales will be without the big names carrying the book. How many people read Batman for the "Hush" storyline, only to leave again before the "Broken City" story even began? Creative teams change, and that's a part of commercial comics, but if we are going to treat the miniseries as the litmus test for an ongoing, then changing teams that early defeats the purpose.
Canceling a book undermines the reader's faith in the publisher. By using the miniseries as a way of "testing the waters," it allows publishers to see if a series has the potential to succeed. This was attempted with the X-Force miniseries— but even here, Marvel ignored the horrid response to follow it with a Shatterstar miniseries. Am I alone in thinking that a spin-off of a bad miniseries is going to be equally horrid?
So, you want a book to do well? Make sure it has a following before you jump off the deep end. Use the miniseries to attract a following. Whet their appetites. The complaint has always been that books need time to attract a following, but publishers can't afford that wait. Here it is: the sample pack, the coming attractions reel, the miniseries. And now the format really matters.
<center><hr width=75%></center>
The first time I went to a small press expo, I met Miss Rose Crowe who was funny, attractive and part of a comics collective called failure. She's published a number of minicomics, but some of her work is available here (http://thegirlinblack.keenspace.com/d/20030901.html), so its webcomic enough for my tastes. Worth a read for those who love happy goths, dorky heavy metal boyfriends, and other oddities.
<center><hr width=75%></center>
The opinions expressed in this column are solely those of the writer, and are not reflective of ComiX-Fan or its other staff in general.
So far, it probably seems as if I'm talking out of both sides of my mouth. "Wait, you said you wanted more ongoing stories, but then you said that stories should have a clear beginning, middle and end." "Wha? You don't like miniseries, but now you're writing a column about miniseries?" Well, yeah. Each format, each style serves a purpose. Neil Gaiman was talking about the way art schools had begun teaching styles Dave McKean had created, and what Gaiman found amusing was the fact that these styles were created to solve a specific problem. The way a story is written, drawn and published should match the story: each format has a purpose, and, used well, the results can be amazing.
So what is the purpose of the miniseries? I've already expressed my dislike of the miniseries as a form because it serves the shame purpose an original graphic novel does. I'm not entirely against miniseries— especially considering that it's much easier to sell 4 $3 issues than it is to sell one $10 book— but I would like to think that we as readers will mature to the point where they're not necessary anymore. Stand-alone miniseries are a necessary evil: nothing more, nothing less. For probably two years, I couldn't think of a good reason for miniseries to exist.
Something changed my mind: my favorite books were canceled. Warlock, The Crew, Soldier X and Wildcats, Version 3.0 to name a few. More than just books I like, a plethora of books have been canceled, often before making it past twelve issues. Remember Marvel's Tsunami titles? How many are still around? Most of the titles Marvel has launched in the past year have been canceled or are threatened with cancellation. Even award-winning fan-favorite books like Runaways and She-Hulk went on hiatus in order to try and build support. DC's Focus line has fared no better, and more than a few titles teeter on the edge of cancellation.
Something is obviously wrong when books can win awards, gain the praise of fans, and still not gain a willing readership. How many books have ended incomplete, leaving the reader hoping for an ending? How many books have ended incomplete, only to have that storyline forgotten when the book was relaunched? And— as if its not obvious to anyone in charge— new titles are still being launched with abandon. Low-selling books are canceled to be replaced with new low-selling books, and the cycle repeats. So I started wondering, what can be done about this?
The other change is that I started buying a lot of older Vertigo stuff. Animal Man, Kid Eternity, Lucifer and Black Orchid to name a few. And all of those titles have something in common. They began as miniseries. And the answer seemed clear. Like most lessons, we had already known the truth, but, at some point, we'd forgotten it. Miniseries can and should be a launching pad for new series.
Vertigo was faced with an interesting problem when it began: it was a new imprint, a foray into a genre that hadn't been well-handled since the fifties, and it had to worry about attracting an audience while still maintaining costs. So Lucifer began as one of the The Sandman Presents... miniseries. Animal Man began as a 4-part miniseries by Morrison and Truog. In both cases, when the miniseries sold well, the editors realized it could work as a series and made it an ongoing with the same creative team. The readers know what to expect, because they've seen the characters and the creative team's style. And, if the miniseries does poorly and sales do not permit an ongoing series, the readers are still happy to have the entire story.
Compare this to Marvel's recent business practices. Whenever a series is canceled, someone argues that "Marvel's a business, we/they still have to make money." It's true. Vertigo editors Berger and Shelley realized the importance of coasts as well,, but they also knew that shortchanging fans would only hurt their image in the long run. If they canceled a book midstory, people would be less willing to try another book for fear it would also be canceled. I admit— I'm not interested in trying any new Marvel series, because of Soldier X, The Crew and Warlock. Two of those titles were not even allowed to finish out their storylines. I will reluctantly try miniseries like Madrox and Phoenix: Endsong (based on Pak's writing), but I'm unwilling to invest in a story if I'm not going to get the whole story.
There are flaws with the Vertigo model, and I would point you to Black Orchid and Kid Eternity as examples. Both of these started with a miniseries that led to the series, but— in both cases— the creative teams changed between works. While a great way to attract attention to a book ("Based on the hit miniseries by Gaiman/McKean... by Morrison/Fegredo"), it is not an accurate measure of how the series would do. Readers do not know what to expect from the new creative teams, and editors/publishers do not know how sales will be without the big names carrying the book. How many people read Batman for the "Hush" storyline, only to leave again before the "Broken City" story even began? Creative teams change, and that's a part of commercial comics, but if we are going to treat the miniseries as the litmus test for an ongoing, then changing teams that early defeats the purpose.
Canceling a book undermines the reader's faith in the publisher. By using the miniseries as a way of "testing the waters," it allows publishers to see if a series has the potential to succeed. This was attempted with the X-Force miniseries— but even here, Marvel ignored the horrid response to follow it with a Shatterstar miniseries. Am I alone in thinking that a spin-off of a bad miniseries is going to be equally horrid?
So, you want a book to do well? Make sure it has a following before you jump off the deep end. Use the miniseries to attract a following. Whet their appetites. The complaint has always been that books need time to attract a following, but publishers can't afford that wait. Here it is: the sample pack, the coming attractions reel, the miniseries. And now the format really matters.
<center><hr width=75%></center>
The first time I went to a small press expo, I met Miss Rose Crowe who was funny, attractive and part of a comics collective called failure. She's published a number of minicomics, but some of her work is available here (http://thegirlinblack.keenspace.com/d/20030901.html), so its webcomic enough for my tastes. Worth a read for those who love happy goths, dorky heavy metal boyfriends, and other oddities.
<center><hr width=75%></center>
The opinions expressed in this column are solely those of the writer, and are not reflective of ComiX-Fan or its other staff in general.