Welcome Back
I’m back from vacation feeling pretty well-rested. But while I was away, I received an email that I didn’t take quite the way I thought I would. It was from TCAF, informing me that I’ve been waitlisted.
Another year, another rejection from TCAF.
Out of the three years I’ve been applying, I have a success rate of 33%. I got in the one time they really expanded to the new location. This is actually typical, as you usually don’t get into TCAF every year anyway; they tend to do a “one on, one off” rotation. Even though I half-expected it when I applied, getting that email this year felt a little different.
In past years, I’d be more upset, even though I knew rejection is part of the game. I would still be a bit disappointed, hoping I was making more progress. This year, for some reason, I just didn’t feel that way.
Cutting Back on Tabling
If you saw my post at the beginning of the year, you know I was planning on cutting back on tabling, and this just solidified that. It took the choice out of my hands. I’m not going to TCAF this year—unless, of course, I get selected off the waitlist. But at this point, I don’t think I would even accept the invitation. It solidified something in my mind: I don’t need to be tabling to make a name for myself anymore. Rejection isn’t necessarily a bad thing; sometimes it just helps you get clarity on your path.
The Cost of Conventions
Tabling has been a great experience in some ways and less so in others. Chasing tables has always been stressful. Trying to sell individual copies of books for $5 or $10 a pop is a difficult way to make back the $300, $400, or $500 spent on the table.
The whole weekend, instead of enjoying myself and meeting people, I’d have this thought in the back of my mind that this is a “loss leader.” I’m losing money just to make myself available to the handful of people in Toronto who care to see me. While I will still do it here and there, I’m definitely deprioritizing tabling.
In fact, I found that rejection goes both ways. I was accepted to both Brantford Comic-Con and East Coast Comic-Con this year, and I’ve had to decline both. I feel a bit silly about it after applying, and I hope I haven’t burnt any bridges, but I’ve just become way too busy with the direct market and getting books into stores. Taking time away from that to hand-sell books over a weekend just didn’t make business sense—especially when the plan is to sell en masse to the whole world. Selling in a localized area just wasn’t going to get me where I need to be.
Convention Connections & Community
That said, one thing I’ve always enjoyed about conventions is the connections you make—both with fans who tell you what they enjoyed about the books and with other creators. That’s probably been the biggest thing. I’ve made so many connections just by being at tables and talking to people for an extended period, rather than just the four or five minutes you get as a visitor.
I used to think I wouldn’t be able to make those connections just as an attendee. However, I now know most of the people I would be tabling around. It’s fun to hang out, but I can do that without being tethered to a table for an entire weekend. I can go to these shows, shake hands, have chats, and not be forced to focus on sales all weekend.
I’ve been talking with a friend of mine, Steve Bynoe—someone I actually met through TCAF—about this. We want to create a place for creators to hang out without the pressure to sell. It’s something I’ve fallen behind on because I’m so focused on the direct market, but I hope that this summer we can organize a group connection where we can share strategies and “market secrets” specifically for the Toronto area.
I want to help build that community rather than just attending sales-focused meetings. If you are a creator in the Toronto area, please reach out. We have a nascent Facebook group where we can start talking about having these in-person get-togethers to really start talking shop. It’s well overdue.
2026 Wins & the Roadshow
TCAF wasn’t the only rejection I’ve faced, but overall, 2026 has been very good to me. Between the big announcement with Prana, getting books into the direct market, and the feedback I’ve received, things are moving.
My book SNIP has done very well on Kickstarter. There’s just a day left to support it if you’re interested, but it’s done as well as any of my other books. It’s comforting to know that when I put something brand new out, the fans show up for it.
I’ve also been doing the “Pesto Comics Roadshow.” If you follow me on socials, you know I’ve been visiting stores across Ontario to help sell the books. I’m telling retailers to order from the catalog, but I’m also giving them posters and trading cards to help drive customers to their shops. I want to show that I’m not just here to make myself money; I’m here to make them money.
Handling Soft Rejections from Stores
I will say that I’ve felt the occasional “soft rejection.” About 5% of the stores I’ve visited have been hesitant. Nobody has been rude, but you can tell when they are just being polite about the pitch. I understand that some stores aren’t interested in indie books; they want a proven thing. Me walking in saying, “This is my first book in stores,” doesn’t always bode well. Even if I mention Kickstarter success, that doesn’t always mean much to them because they don’t see those sales. You have to have a thick skin for sales.
Early Lessons in Rejection
I used to work a job with my cousin sealing driveways in the suburbs, which involved door-to-door sales. I’d wear my high-visibility vest and knock on doors all weekend. I’ve had doors slammed in my face and I’ve been yelled at; that was just part of the game.
When I was 11 or 12, I delivered the Toronto Sun. Back then, they also had us do collections. It was $7 a month for the paper, and I had to collect that in cash. You would be shocked at how many people refused to answer the door for an 11-year-old kid. It was an early lesson in dealing with grumpy people. Compared to that, being waitlisted for a show isn’t the biggest rejection I’ve ever faced.
Toronto vs. Mainstream Comics
I’ve always had a hard time “breaking in” here in Toronto. After talking with folks like the guys at Comix Asylum, we’ve noticed that Toronto is very much an “art house” comic town. Drawn & Quarterly and Fantagraphics are big here. Autobiographical comics seem to be the way to get attention in this city.
That’s not what I do. I do pulp comics. I do comics that try to be as mainstream as possible. My first book in the direct market is a pro-wrestling vampire comic. The one on Kickstarter right now, SNIP, is a time-traveling sci-fi book. I enjoy the MCU and DC stuff—I’m a DC guy at heart.
While I have some autobiographical ideas in the works, they aren’t my priority. My priority is mainstream storytelling. I understand why I might not fit the “TCAF crowd,” and I’m okay with that. I want my books to sit on the shelf next to Batman and Spider-Man. They aren’t superhero comics, but they are in that same vein of fun escapism. It’s like being an elite hockey player: I wouldn’t expect to get called up to the Blue Jays. We’re both playing sports, but we’re not playing the same sport.
Finding Success in the Right Places
I’m finding success in the right places. Most of my comics are sold in the US. I appreciate the support I get in Toronto, but it solidifies the point that I don’t need to focus on tabling here if my customers are south of the border.
Being waitlisted is just confirmation. It doesn’t mean I’m done with conventions—I went to New York last year and had a blast, and I’ll be in San Diego this year with a Pro badge. That really illustrates my point: I might not get a table at TCAF, but I’m considered a “Pro” in San Diego, the ultimate mainstream convention. That’s where I want to be.
Turning Rejection into Clarity
I could dwell on the negative of being waitlisted in my hometown, but I’m making progress. My fans and friends here are proud of the work with Prana and the direct market. They are excited to have a local creator making mainstream content.
I’m taking this as a positive development. It’s always nice to be accepted, but this solidifies where I should focus my time. It’s better for Pesto Comics to focus on getting stories to as many people as possible through stores rather than being tethered to a table selling one book at a time.
Reminders & Sign-Off
Before I go, I have two reminders:
The campaign for SNIP ends tomorrow at 10:15 AM Eastern. If you want the exclusive covers and the chance to read the first two issues before they hit the direct market this fall, now is the time.
The FOC (Final Order Cutoff) for From Parts Unknown #1 is March 30th. It is vital that issue number one does well. Usually, there is a 40% to 60% drop-off in orders between issue one and issue two. We need issue one to be strong so that the book remains profitable even after that drop.
To hit printing thresholds, we need to sell at least 1,000 copies. I’m confident we’ll clear that for issue one, but I need your help to make sure issue two clears it as well. With 2,700 shops in North America, if everyone orders just one, we’re well past the target. If you want the book, please tell your local shop you want From Parts Unknown #1. It’s $5, and the production design is a massive step up from the 2024 Kickstarter version.
Thank you for being here. We’ll talk again next week about the roadshow and my travels across North America*. (I’ve also got a cool surprise regarding that, but we’ll save that for later.) Have a good one!
