Pageturners: Case study: Toxic! Part 1

We were given all rights to our work, a good page rate, our stories would be in full colour and we could determine the direction they took. It sounds like a dream ticket, doesn’t it?

Welcome to Pageturners, a book I’m writing in which I share what I’ve learnt – and am still learning – about comic writing, film writing, novel writing and how new writers can sell their stories. I’ll publish a chapter or a section per week, available for free here on Iconoblast. And I welcome your feedback or questions, so do leave a comment below!

Missed the Pageturners intro? Read it here.

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Illustration by David Broughton

It’s often more valuable to look at failures, rather more than successes. So you can avoid the pitfalls we fell into and learn from our mistakes. In the case of Toxic! comic I’m only concerned here with the ‘office politics’ mistakes rather than wider considerations.

Officially, Toxic! fell apart because creators weren’t paid. This is true, it happens a lot in publishing, but there were deeper reasons that are also worth looking at.

Those reasons could be summed up as a power vacuum. A lack of direction. A lack of commitment.

Or, to put it more crudely: no boss. 

In creative publishing, there has to be a leader. Cooperatives don’t work. It’s interesting, looking back, to see just how this played out to everyone’s disadvantage, including our readers.

Geoff Fry, the publisher, assembled a group of top creators: Kevin O’Neill; John Wagner; Alan Grant; myself and others. Basically, he gave us what we wanted and left us to get on with it. We were given all rights to our work, a good page rate, our stories would be in full colour and we could determine the direction they took. It sounds like a dream ticket, doesn’t it?

So what could possibly go wrong? Very simple: no editor. 

Although later there was a puppet editor, and a part-time editor (me). And a  strongly pro-active art editor – Kevin O’Neill – but only for a while, because personal matters understandably took priority.

Truth is, none of us wanted the job which – looking back – is an absolute recipe for disaster. It’s understandable of course, not least because we knew how difficult the job was and how difficult we could all be!

Herding cats would be a darn sight easier.

An editor has to have a strong sense of vision and purpose. This does not make them popular. It’s just about tolerable when the editor knows what they’re doing as I did when I started 2000AD.  But it would have been intolerable if I’d stayed beyond the first twelve issues and planning the subsequent stories that represented its long term future. I really didn’t want the grief.

So Toxic! was a rudderless ship. There was no conflict between us all, but there was no unity either. There was no team spirit, and if you study the comic you can see it. There’s at least three factions there, rather than an over-arching united theme and the readers sensed it. I stepped in to rescue it at one stage and became de-factor editor for two or three months. This did not go down well with my then-wife, Angela Kincaid, because I had promised her I would never create another comic after 2000AD. The rewards were insufficient and the misery and stress it brought us at the time was just not worth repeating.

And that team spirit, that joie de vivre, is vital. If you believe that a comic can be run like a soulless machine without emotional commitment, like a scene out of Metropolis with human robots, well I’ve seen that in action, too, and it doesn’t work commercially or creatively. In fact, it sucks. 

It’s why I’ve always regretted my part in creating Tharg and his robots, because it was used by editorial to cut creators down to size. Kevin O’Neill, I know, felt as I did about Tharg. I discovered this when we were both given Tharg collectible figures by well-meaning fans and discussed where and how we might display them.  These readers had no idea of our unprintable views on the ‘Mighty’ One.  Kevin and I both valued their kindness and generosity, but … and I should probably leave Tharg there, otherwise I could be in trouble.

 So back to Toxic! Our rudderless ship.

Someone had to keep the comic going, so I felt I had no choice. I deliberately – and with a certain cunning – hired the most relaxed, most laid-back person I’ve ever met on this planet: Oz. He was knowledgeable about comics, brilliant at the job and always calm. And, boy, did he need to be. He would talk patiently and at length to angst-ridden artists and writers, acting as their therapist, letting them rant and rave, relieving me of the task, as I tried to keep everything else going myself. 

Thus the late Martin Emond – the Accident Man artist – was enraged by the colouring on later episodes of his story and rang up in an absolute fury. He went absolutely ballistic! Oz calmed him down in a matter of minutes.

Episode 1 of Accident Man, with Martin Emond’s original colouring

Before Oz, I’d employed a family member to do the job and be my first secretary. So a now famous, confident and argumentative comic writer had submitted a serial that was suited to Vertigo, but not Toxic!  At this stage, he wasn’t famous but he was certainly very confident and argumentative. So I told my first secretary – ‘Can you ring this guy up and tell him I’ve got to say no? Let him down gently, because he’s put some thought into his story. And I might come back to him on some future occasion for something else.’

First Secretary: (to famous writer) Hi. Pat’s read your story. He doesn’t think it’s right for Toxic! Sorry. Bye.

Famous Writer: Wait. Wait. I need to understand. Why didn’t he like it? I think it’s perfect for Toxic! Why is it wrong for Toxic!?

First Secretary: I don’t know. That’s what he said. Bye.

Famous Writer: But it’s got a Tarantino vibe. It’s just what Toxic! needs. Tell Pat I need to hear it from him. Not from… whoever you are. Tell him he’s got to call me. I need him to phone me. Right now.

First Secretary: Okay. Bye.

Me (to First Secretary): See, the idea is you keep these creators off my back, so I can get on with producing Toxic!, otherwise Angela will go spare. I just don’t have the time to listen to an hour of this guy’s angst. Ring him back and give him my apologies, tell him I’m sorry, but the story is just too Vertigo for Toxic!

Now by comparison, Oz would have had that famous writer purring, happy and content in ten minutes. It’s a great skill that doesn’t seem to be recognised or valued anymore. I think he went on to a very successful career in social services dealing with patients with serious emotional issues. Any similarity between the two jobs is, of course, completely coincidental. I miss Oz to this day. In fact, I could often use a ten minute therapy call with him myself. He’s better than a shiatsu massage.

As you can see, the idea of having an emotional engagement with creators on Toxic! was essential. The same was true when I started Battle, Action and 2000AD.  It was important to build up some kind of relationship with creators. It’s a business relationship, but it’s creative and it needs to be friendly and open. That’s how the best ideas often emerge: editor and creator interacting with each other. And creators need to know they’re dealing with a human being, not talking to a slot machine.

When I was trained at D.C. Thomson’s, my initial rejection letters were as curt as my first secretary example above. I wrote rejection letters like: ‘Dear Bill, Thanks for your submission. It’s not for us. Yours sincerely. P. Mills.’ I was quickly admonished by the managing editor and told to make my replies more human and to explain gently to the author why their story was rejected and encourage them to try again with something new. The creator needs to feel the editor has respect for them and their work.

This was seen as normal and obligatory. Because not only did it make work a pleasure for all concerned, and result in creator-editor loyalty, but in the long run it also helped sales. Because if it’s a comic run by robots, the readers senses the lack of human beings and some of them will simply stop buying.  

Today, that human and respectful approach is noticeably missing. Rebellion don’t think it is necessary, or they see it as uneconomic while they pursue short-term profits. I don’t think it’s personal, there’s simply no time to interact with creators anymore. With ever lower sales and the demand for short-term profits, I guess something has to give. And that something is respect. Thus, recently, I thought I really should complete Flesh and brought the subject up with 2000AD. I received this curt response. 'Thanks, Pat, but not planning to commission any further Flesh.'

Next week: Toxic! Case Study Part 2, in which we had the power, but not the responsibility.