The Origin of Edgar, Pt. III

With 39 hilarious panels of Blood Culture drawn by my new partner Gerry, I was already writing my resignation letter to my boss. In my head, I was a working cartoonist, with my comic strip running in 2000 newspapers across the world. I had it made. In my head.

To meet my future I reduced on a photocopier 36 of the panels to the standard comic strip size found in most newspapers and physically cut and pasted them onto sheets of paper, which I then photocopied for a cleaner look. I dashed off a quick cover letter (it began snarkily: "To whomever opens the mail") and mailed the first packet in September of 1997.

How convinced was I that Blood Culture was one of the funniest and most original comic strips in history and that relative fame and fortune (we're talking comic strips here) were mine for the asking? I sent out only one submission. I was certain that I would enjoy the same great fortune as Far Side creator Gary Larson, who was picked up by the first syndicate that reviewed his work (see the preface to The PreHistory of the Far Side for the whole story). As I mailed the submission packet I knew my dreams would come true as soon as someone read the panels.

Two things I didn't factor in. One, that someone might not like Blood Culture (I still have a difficult time admitting this); and two, that it takes two to three months to get a response to a submission. Needless to say that that first submission failed to impress the syndicate's editors and it was November before I found out.

Usually rejection gets me down. I have always had the tendency to slink back to my burrow after being rejected, cursing my rejector and playing the wounded animal. I had always been a wuss about things like that. But not this time, not with my baby, my Blood Culture.

Undaunted, I sent out another packet right away. A few months later I received another rejection. So I sent out another packet. A rejection. Another packet. Another rejection. I submitted to five syndicates in all. Had I not been so confident that Blood Culture was freaking awesome I might have sent out simultaneous submissions and gotten all the rejections back before Christmas of 1997. Instead I discovered Blood Culture's complete lack of marketability in December of 1998, when the last syndicate turned me down. More than a year gone.

That's when I had to admit that Blood Culture might not be the instant success I had hoped it would be. Through all the rejections I annoyed Gerry with requests for more panels. Weeks and weeks went by and the panels never came. Months and months went by and the panels never came. Every time I pestered Gerry he apologized for not drawing any more panels and promised to draw some more. During the time between the first rush of panels and the last rejection letter I wrote hundreds and hundreds of lines. I did the only thing I could do: write lines. But for Gerry, something had gotten in the way of his drawing Blood Culture.

His life. His life got in the way. Gerry had a wife and kids and a mortgage and car payments and yard work and hockey practice (he played on a team) and his own painting and a boatload of other responsibilities that I only now can I appreciate and respect. Then I was living with my girlfriend in a rented apartment in Hoboken that was 30 minutes from work, and the only things we cared about was where were we going to eat that night and what we were going to do on that weekend. Now I'm a husband, a father, a homeowner, and a self-appointed jack of all trades. I get it now.

Still, back then I wanted to keep the momentum going, even without new panels coming in. So in 1999 I did two things: I blanketed the independent weekly newspaper world with simultaneous Blood Culture submissions and I registered www.bloodculture.com. And I also got to see Blood Culture published both in print and online.

Next time, part IV.