Well, I am back from a grand adventure.

The past two-ish weeks, I went from one side of the country to the other to attend my first two comic conventions as a guest. I’ve already written about one of them in Alameda, California’s Cape & Cowl Con, but that was more about the event itself than my experience at it. Today, I wanted to explore what I learned during those consecutive weekends, particularly while I tabled at Lexington Comic Con over the Labor Day weekend. While I’d sold things at a con table in hour long stints before, I’d never actually done it for an entire weekend (or by myself, as this was a solo adventure), nor had I really seen behind the scenes at a comic convention in the way I would at Cape & Cowl and Lexington. It seemed likely that I’d learn something from these opportunities.

And that proved to be very, very true.

So, instead of my typical edition of Comics Disassembled, where I write about the things I liked or didn’t like from the week of comics, I’m instead going to write about the things that stood out about the world of comic cons after my time guesting at two of them. There’s a lot to cover, though, so let’s get to it.

Tabling at a Con is Extremely Hard Work

Friday, September 4^th was the first day of Lexington Comic Con. It ran from noon to 8 pm, which meant I was able to get enough rest before the event that I wasn’t dragging to start. I had even set up my table on Thursday, with all my zines, books, prints, stickers, and cards properly arranged on it, so it was a light morning. In theory — in theory — this should have been the easy day.

It was a lot, but I was feeling good when it ended. So much so that after it wrapped, I told my pal, artist Liana Kangas, that I would join them in the hotel bar after I dropped some stuff off in my room and made a couple phone calls. So, up I went, and I almost immediately fell asleep after I made the rookie mistake of briefly laying down in bed.

That was the level of tired I was after the first and easiest day. I almost instantly crashed. To my credit, I woke up shortly thereafter and went down as planned, but it made me wonder what terrors awaited me during the more challenging days of the con.

The funny thing about how tired you get is you’re largely hanging out in one place: your table. Why would a person be so tired after being stationary for so long? It’s because you’re not actually stationary. You’re standing. Then you’re sitting. Then you’re standing again, but on the other side of the table because you’re taking a picture with someone. Then you’re wandering to say hello to another guest or you’re going to the green room to get some food or you’re using the restroom or whatever. Each of those “stationary” days found me putting up well over 10,000 steps. 5

And that doesn’t even mention the real challenge of it all.

That relates to something I always wondered about, which is why more tabling guests don’t stand when people walk by. It makes them seem more welcoming. Why wouldn’t they do that? Well, the answer is because standing for hours on end hurts your back, legs, and really your entire body, to the point I almost immediately admitted to someone at Lexington Comic Con that I was a fool about the whole standing thing.

But the physical aspect of guesting at cons is just one aspect of the exhaustion, and it’s not even the biggest part. When you’re tabling, you must be ready to talk at any given moment, and sometimes at great length. The people that visit you might not always know you, either. Maybe you need to pitch someone on your wares. That takes a lot out of you. But sometimes, living up to who people think you are can be even more tiring, and you must do that for the entire time you’re there, every day. As was discussed many a time during Lexington, cons can really drain your social battery, especially once you factor in the get-togethers that take place before and after. It’s a lot.

In short? I see you now, creators and celebrities. Guesting at a con is an endurance test. It’s also one I barely passed.

Tabling at a Con Requires a Lot of Forethought

There are two things you can do when you’re going to table at a con. One is you can go in with a laissez-faire attitude and just let whatever happens happen. You throw your books or zines or whatever down and say, “If someone wants to buy something, they can, but I’m not fancying up for them.” That was my initial plan, although I thought of myself as a genius because I had asked my pal, cartoonist Kyle Starks, to bring a couple stands for me to put some books on. That was fancy enough. People would be fine with that!

Please note that everything I just said was stupid and wrong.

The other route you can take is the one I actually took, which was what happened after my wife Amber learned about my non-plan plan and fixed everything. She made sure I had my own displays, both by ordering things and designing them, and even ensured I had a table runner to better identify me to passersby. Then, to protect me from mucking it up — which was the odds-on favorite in the betting markets — Amber set up a dummy version of what my table should look like and had me take a picture of it so I knew how to set it up properly.

That was the only way to do it. While you can go in with the carefree attitude I had, I do not advise it unless you don’t want people to engage with your table in any way, or to even consider stopping by at all. Amber saved me from the fate of being an unprofessional, unappealing goofball, although I must admit I did not escape the goofball part.

If you’re going to table at a con, make sure you go in prepared. A little planning will save you a lot of pain later.