So, another week begins.

Sluggy Freelance has concluded Oceans Unmoving, ending the tale on a cliffhanger that left many of its former haters (myself included) wanting more. The story started weak but ended strong. Now it is left behind regardless, and the normal cast and crew are back in the picture. Will things return to that which we know and love? It’s Sluggy Freelance, man. I’ve got faith.

In response to this event, I decided to treat myself to reading back through That Which Redeems, which is easily one of my favorite storylines in webcomicdom.

I’ve heard on more than one occasion people lamenting Oceans Unmoving, and discussing a desire for the good old days where Sluggy was just zany adventures and silliness.

And those may have been the good old days – but Sluggy’s greatest triumphs haven’t just been its crazy humor, but its epic tales. The Bug, The Witch and the Robot. Fire and Rain. That Which Redeems.

These are the areas where Abram’s art shines through. Where we really see the potential of his characters. And, sure, its full of the jokes and the puns and all the other funny stuff that keeps it Sluggy, and that is part of what makes it great.

It’s hard to read back through any of the great Sluggy stories and not have high hopes for the future of Sluggy.

There you are, in the middle of an argument.

Both sides have a point. Standing between them you can see -oh so clearly- the middle line.

And you have the words. The perfect, perfect words. That will make it all better. That will fix it all. Words that need to be said, because they are exactly what the people arguing need to hear.

And so you have your say, because there is some optimism hovering deep within you that knows that people are rational, thinking beings, and will take your words to heart.

And man does it blow up in your face.

I can’t enumerate the number of times I’ve felt like this. Where I’ve either tried to help, or known that trying to help will only make things worse, because most of the time? People just don’t want to list.

It might still be worth it. Your words may stick with them. Your message might get through… eventually, and you might have done them a grand service.

But having to wade through the fire and brimstone that comes before then is a hard path to take.

I applaud the dude for taking that path, and I applaud Anywhere but Here for capturing that sentiment perfectly.

It is a stellar comic all around, even if it does stray into some pretty crazy levels. And right now it is doing its thing, and doing it well.

Scott Kurtz of webcomic powerhouse PvP is well known in the webcomic world, both for the quality and accomplishments of his comic, as well as for his willingness to speak his mind frankly on many different topics.

He recently had a story arc in his comic that was nearly a month long, dealing with several of main characters of the strip getting sent back through time and space to interact with the heroes of his previous gang, “Tales by Tavernlight.” It was an impressive attempt, though it came as a surprise when he said it was his first story arc that had lasted that long before.

Thinking back on it, it seems true – he has done a lot of lasting stories before, but they are usually broken up over numerous little arcs. This monthlong plot, in any case, was a good one – I enjoyed the concept, and liked several of the jokes worked into it.

It was only afterwards, when he posted his thoughts on the arc – talking about what he had hoped for it, and how he felt it fell short – that I noticed the ways it could be better. And they were there, sure – some parts of it moved a bit too fast, and left too little room to really see the full interactions between the different casts, or to really reveal the little twists behind it all.

But that said – I did not notice it at the time. I enjoyed the arc. I liked what it did. And for all that it had room to grow, I wouldn’t even have noticed it without Kurtz feeling free to give his thoughts on it and some of the things he cut out in order to get it finished quickly.

I don’t think Kurtz should feel bad about the way the story panned out – and I think, in the end, that sort of personal constructive criticism is a good thing, and is almost always an even more discerning eye than that of a reader.

Several weeks ago, Something Positive was the result of a good deal of discussion. Some people spoke at length, others were profound in their brevity.

The subject of the hour was the death of Faye MacIntire, one of the more beloved cast members.

At the time, I did not have much to say.

Others, by and large, said it all, and that was part of it. Part of it, though, was that… it did not touch me quite as hard as it seemed to hit many.

Which is strange, in a way. All my life, I have been very emotionally invested in characters in fiction, even though I am much more stoic in real-world matters. I can understand, accept, and move on when an actual relative dies, when trauma occurs in my own life. But when that happens to a character in a story, that is when I feel it keenly, that is when the tears come.

But Faye died, and I took it in stride. Oh, I’m not saying I was numb to it – I felt it for what it was. But I was also able to recognize that it could have been so much worse for Faye – to die peacefully in her sleep, after a day spent with the love of her life, before the infirmities of age had crippled them… that is about as good as it gets.

And I’m not saying it wasn’t a tragedy, that it wasn’t sad – but the tragedy, as it all too often is, is for those left behind. And even though her husband Fred recognized that things could be worse, no one can say there wasn’t sorrow in her death for him, and for all those whose lives she touched.

And maybe that is why her funeral is really what got to me. A chance to see those who loved her, or remembered her. Some were familiar faces, others were not – but we saw their emotions, captured with only a few simple lines each. And it hit me, and hit me hard.

There is a lot captured in that page of panels. There is a lot of emotion, and depth, both on the surface and idling underneath.

And in the end, it is a credit to R.K. Milholland’s writing that I felt the death of Faye and reacted in much the way I would in life – quiet acceptance and understanding… but felt true sorrow for all those who were left behind.

Felt sorrow, deep and cutting, at the sheer sense of the loss that they had suffered.

This last week I picked up a copy of Penny Arcade: Attack of the Bacon Robots! This is a collection of their works from 1998 through 2000. I’m not here to talk about the book itself, mind you. It’s true the book has some significance, as it represents Penny Arcade’s triumph over various legal issues preventing them from publishing their works for their own benefit. It is also true that the book itself is fine quality, and does an excellent job of showcasing their earlier work, despite it not necessarily being their highest caliber of comics. It focuses on their humor perfectly and runs with it, and makes for a fine walk through their early archives.

But what I really wanted to discuss is Tycho’s Webcomic Manifesto published at the end of the book. It’s a nice page full of his normal style of writing (humorous but with some biting sarcasm). It takes a few pot shots at his eternal foes, the heralds of micro-payments and subscription sites.

Now, the lads at Penny Arcade have scuffled with these foes on numerous occasions. Some of their attacks have been dealing with their perceived pretentiousness of web-comic artists out to reinvent the medium. My personal feeling, on some of these points, is that they go a little overboard. I certainly agree that to endorse “experimentation and reinvention as the only way to be a true artist” is, well, dumb. But I also think that it is perfectly fine for those people who want to have their experiments to go and try some of the artisticly incredible things that are only available through the wonders of the computer and the internet. Interesting things can come of invention and reinvention. Significant and powerful works can be developed. It shouldn’t become the only way of art, but nor should it be dismissed as nothing but pretentiousness – the truth is somewhere in the middle.

However, there is a completely seperate debate that I feel is a much trickier issue. It can be hard to seperate the topic of ‘subscription methods’ from the topic of ‘artistic pretentiousness’, since both topics revolve very heavily around the same person. Penny Arcade have launched attacks on this front as well, and it is a follow-up on that area of discussion that motivates the Manifesto Tycho lays out at the back of his book.

The core of his argument is this: “Readers will take care of you.” Give away your comics for free. Use merchandise and other means of revenue, and your readers will support you. Denying your readers comics until they pay you is no way for a comic to operate – it is cold and mercantile, and lacks trust in one’s readers.

He speaks from personal experience – and no one can deny Penny Arcade has done well for itself. I think there is truth to what he says, though it is not the universal truth he might wish it to be.

Being a free comic that relies on alternate methods of revenue – books, merchandise, advertising and so forth – is the only real chance that one has to hit it big, in my opinion. However, it is also the path that is not guaranteed to reach that point.

Being part of a quality subscription service, on the other hand, is a moderately reliable means of reaching a middle ground – where there is some return revenue, though not enough to make a living off of. However – it also denies one forever the chance to truly make it big on one’s own.

I love webcomics. I read hundreds, of all levels of quality. I even belong to several of the afore-mentioned subscription sites. At the same time, however… I hate belonging to them. The only reason I do so is because webcomics I was already a fan of for years moved onto their service, and I was willing to spend the money for those comics.

If those services did not have comics I had already had years of free service to fall in love with, I doubt I would have come to them. The readership of any service that charges an entrance fee will always be far inferior to the populace that will partake of something for free. Denying others entrance to your comic will not enhance your readership. I can’t emphasize that enough. There are too many other webcomics available on the internet for free. You will have some readers, and each one will be significant due to the entrance fee – but that same fee will also hold you back.

I think Tycho’s logic is really a good starting point, if not the whole answer. Use your webcomic to gather your readers, then expand from there. It isn’t a guarantee – not every webcomic will gain enough readers to meet the point at which it becomes a living. Not every reader can even afford to support more than a handful of their favorite webcomic authors. But accepting your readers and making them welcome is the first step.

My rant here is also motivated by a post by the creator of Accidental Centaurs. The strip itself is a decent one, though by no means one of the web’s heavy hitters. Its method of monetary acquisition appears to be a combination of commissions, booksales, and donations. The number of strips he produces each month is based on how much money is donated.

This month’s donation total was rather low, and this concerned him greatly. And told his readers that this wasn’t acceptable, and if donations didn’t pick up, he would end the strip. He “[hates] making threats, but it seems that’s what it takes.”

That attitude towards your readers? Not a healthy one. Guilting your readers into giving you money is not a tactic that will work – it isn’t something you can call upon every month. Especially not in that way. Let your readers know that if your comic can’t make you the money you need from it, then you won’t be able to continue it – sure, that’s fine. But “threatening” your readers? That’s crossing a line. In the end, it isn’t just a matter of what you are doing – it is a matter of how you do it.

R.K. Milholland, of Something Positive fame, is well known for telling his reader that if they would donate a year’s salary, he would do the comic full time.

And it worked – he got the money, and was floored. Then he nodded, and went to work on the comic, and figured out how to make it his job without having to rely on a yearly salary in donations. It worked once, but he knew it wasn’t going to cut it as an annual thing – it was up to him now.

Last I heard, he’s doing pretty well, and his comic remains one of the big ones in the webcomic world.

Overall, this isn’t so much a rant about what money-making method a webcomic uses. This is more about attitude. Tycho is definitely right about one thing – treat your readers with trust. Treat them well and with respect. Deliver them your content as best as you can, rather than making it feel like an afterthought. That really is step one to producing a web-comic.

Have a community – have a forum for readers to gather and chat, both about your comic and other things. Be accessible yourself – have a place for readers to email you. You don’t have to respond to every email, but at least allowing readers to *send* you emails is important. Have information about your comic. Have a cast page, even if only a small one. Basically, make your comic friendly to your readers.

Once a reader feels welcome, they are far more willing to invest and support the comic.

On a side-note, I find it interesting that Penny Arcade is often considered as a ‘sell-out’, with their ‘merchandising’ and ‘advertising’ and so forth. And yet – they are the ones who advocate a method of selling your comic that involves giving it, for free, to readers, rather than charging a fee at the door.

It’s different in other industries. I can’t go out and get a bunch of print comics for free every day – I have to pay for the ones I want, by and large. The internet changes things, however. I can find quality free webcomics every which way I turn. And if I am looking for a new comic, and need to decide whether to spend my time on one freely available, or one that will cost me to see what it is like… well, not a hard decision to make, in my opinion.

You aren’t guaranteed to suddenly make a living if you put your hopes and dreams in the hands of your readers. But you stand a much better chance of getting those readers and keeping them if you deal with them fairly – and that is the first step to truly going places with your webcomic. There are more and more webcomics every day that are finding themselves able to support a living – not always well, not always easily, but they can do it.

And they are also, almost without exception, webcomics that treat their readers well.

David Willis has written some of my favorite webcomics. The two for which he is most well known, these days, are It’s Walky and Shortpacked.

The first of these was filled with a powerful and epic storyline, and while it still consistently delivered some incredible doses of humor, at its core it was about the story being told. Characters fought, loved, died, came back to life and died some more. It had intense, serious moments.

The core of the story concluded, and though there is something of a spin-off ongoing, the main tale of It’s Walky ended, whole and complete.

Shortpacked was Mr. Willis’s next endeavor. It was a return to the simple and the silly. It was about the casual life of a bunch of toy store employees, and their world-domination-planning boss. Hijinks ensued, and even with several characters from his previous series around, it was just plain fun. No worries, no melodrama.

And a lot of people liked it for that. They were entertained by the characters, and even more floored by the frighteningly hilarious references to pop-culture or comic book characters.

But more recently there are those who have spoken out, beseeching a return to drama. When a storyline with potentially powerful ramifications concludes with no actual fallout, many readers are upset, feeling cheated out of the story they deserved. The ‘depth and emotion’ that the storyline had seemed to promise them.

The retaliation from Mr. Willis was an entirely new storyline that dove headfirst into drama, and was suddenly full of angst and love triangles and danger. And in an impressive feat of meta-storytelling, one of the characters themselves sees the drama unfolding, and tries as much as they can to restore the humor of the strip, breaking out zany antics and meaningless acts to try and deal with the drama. The attempts, by and large, are unsuccessful – the rest of the characters are too caught up in the drama already for her randomness to do anything other than confuse and hurt them.

Which brings us to today’s strip. Now, I’ll be honest here – up to this point, I haven’t been entirely a fan of the recent storyline. I was disappointed in the previous storyline for building up a moment of drama just to ignore it, and I was bored with the current one as it seemed to go far overboard with the attempts to show the battle between the humor and the drama. It felt, to me, as though the strip was trying too hard to deal with the problem – and rather than just continuing on and doing its own thing, it wanted to address the issue of ‘drama’.

But this last strip?

Floored me.

It captured in a single moment all that is great about both worlds. The batman references – the idea that batman makes anything funny is a long running joke in the strip, and probably the best in my opinion. When I see people quote the comic, they quote one of the batman strips. And here we have a moment that captures that joke at its very core.

Meanwhile, we have a scene of triumph: a moment of intense bad-assitude. But we have it blended perfectly with the most powerful humor in the strip. When I see this comic, I can’t help but feel the urge to both laugh and cheer – I don’t feel worry over the drama or exhaustion at a tired joke. No, I simply see perfection here, of story and humor – and that is something that is very, very rare to find.

Way to go, Mr. Willis. Well done!