why comics?
People often ask me, "How do you break into comics?". So, once they're up to the drive-thru window so I can speak without all that crackly static noise, I lean out and tell them:

"If you can still see the white of the page through the blood, then you haven't bled enough for your art, that's the only guide you'll need. And don't think you can cheat by simply using red paper to begin with, that's how Greg Land got into comics. On the same note, making OTHERS' eyes bleed also doesn't count. Also, I peed in your coke. Just a heads-up."

I then throw scolding-hot fries into their eyes, just to make sure they get the message. A message that says you're about to embark on a long road of premature blindness, unnatural sleeping patterns, and even less-natural sleeping partners in your future career as a comics professional. Nothing like flesh-searing trans fat to wake you up to the truth. At least, that's what my dear old todger used to say.

But if I had to offer just one piece of advice about breaking in, then perhaps the most important thing you need to know is this:

Everyone in comics has slept with Warren Ellis' butler.

For on his butler's nightstand sits the key to Ellis' secret dungeon office, and within this forbidden office, on his desk/Rack-Of-Perversion, lays the ancient magical Rolodex with all the names you'll need...unless you want to work in manga or something. Then you're screwed.

A friendly warning though: the butler's the one making the Red Bull frappe in the spandex g-string, not the one answering the door with the digital reciever/transmitter implanted in his skull. That'd be his helper penguin. With whom sex, whilst possibly fulfilling, will not help your career. As the penguin only dines with Oni Press guys. And pays.