So last night I did a little fiddling and redirected this address over to www.richlovatt.com and then sent a little tweet out.

Only it didn’t work, so the blog is back here for now at least until I get things sorted.

It’s not that I don’t want to carry on blogging; I do – but I’m not sure that its going to be as comics focused going forward and I was hoping bu switching over to my other domain that I’d be able to branch out a little.

Ah well.

Not that I’ve got that much time to blog at the moment anyway, I suppose. That should change this coming weekend as we (we being the family) get back into a routine once the inlaws have left and I’ve got a bit caught up at work.

The only thing to ask then is – with my pull list reducing by the week, what should I blog about?

Yes, I’ve reached the grand old age of 35, which I reckon is half the allotted span that’s dealt out to most of us.

That’s a bit depressing.

Not as depressing as it being pointed out to me on the phone by my mum this morning that she was my age when she had me and at that point she also had three daughters aged between 9 and 13.

Yikes.

Anyway, I don’t think I’ve done badly in the past 35 years;

- have a beautiful wife;
- have a baby due in the next few weeks;
- have a great family;
- have an awesome dog;
- have some great friends;
- traveled to Australia, New Zealand and across the US, and various other places;
- wrote a book (unpublished);
- wrote a screenplay(unpublished);
- wrote a comic;
- wrote another comic;
- wrote a whole bunch of other stuff;
- have a job which, although I may hate, allows me to provide for the first four above, and generally I work with some pretty cool people.

So yes, all over I’d say I’m a pretty lucky guy.

There’s something vaguely depressing about comic marts.

Not comic cons, you understand, which are more and more dominated by big displays from movie studios and other companies looking to hawk their latest product while the dealers, artists and celebrity attendees get shuffled off into a corner.

No, I’m talking about comic marts. Where there’s less presence from the big guys and more of the dealers, artist and others. Maybe it’s just me and my naturally pessimistic English sensibilities but they always feel like there’s an atmosphere of doom hanging over them.

Comic marts for me and, I suspect, many retailers aren’t about the new issues, they’re about the back issues. I used to love searching for missing issues – and I still do – but more and more this seems to be a dying pastime even more than buying new issues is. In this world of the internet, Essentials, Showcases, Omnibuses and Absolutes, who needs old issues?

I’ll admit that I’m not one to hang out in artist’s alley. It’s funny, but in spite of loving comics I’ve never been one for sketches or even conversation with artists and writers. I think it’s the whole English thing again, but usually the best I can manage is a ‘oh, I love your work on such-a-title’, and I get the feeling that I usually come off as disingenuous. Also, I’m not one for small talk which doesn’t help matters. So it’s not that I don’t love your work, it’s just that I don’t think that the way I tell you is particularly convincing.

But what really adds that feeling of doom is the celebrities. I like to think that there are four types of celebs there – and only two of these types have that doomed air about them.

First up, there’s the Up-and-Comers who are there because they have something going on right now. Something that should appeal to comic fans, or genre fans, like, say, the cast of Warehouse 13. It’s a way of increasing their profile, hawking their project and earning some coin.

Then there’s the Legends. The William Shatners of the world. These guys have been in the business for years and this is just a quick and easy way to earn some change. The thing is, the legends – and I’m talking real Legends – may not really need this money, as they probably have a lot of other revenue streams (such as residuals, websites, endorsements, book deals and such) but they know a good thing when they see it. And there’s always the adulation of the masses.

But then you get the Fading Stars. Maybe they were on a big series a few years ago but don’t get too much screen time these days, or maybe they’re fresh off a genre show recently but aren’t getting steady work right now. These guys have, potentially, been in a role that will define the rest of their careers – and maybe these cons will be their future. There’s something quietly desperate about that; feeling that maybe, just maybe this is as good as it’s going to get.

Finally, there’s the Last Gaspers. The actors and actresses who, twenty or thirty years ago, had a role that did define the rest of their careers. They set up at their little table with photos of them in that role, ready to sign for the occasional passing fan for a nominal fee, ready to smile for a photo or discuss that one role that made them, however briefly, a shining star. It’s like a scene out of The Wrestler.

There’s one actress in particular that I see at these things. A quick search on imdb tells me that she hasn’t had an acting credit in well over ten years and although for a while she was very busy, nabbing starring and recurring roles on various shows, none of them ever came close to eclipsing the one that she’s famous for.

A quick internet search tells me that she’s out of the acting business altogether these days, and has an entirely new career now. One that certainly doesn’t hold the potential to be as lucrative, but is in all probability much more rewarding.

And yet, she does the con/mart circuit. She sits at her table, quietly dignified, as people walk past her, many unaware of who she is although they almost certainly know the role she played. At the end of the weekend, she packs her property into a rolling suitcases and heads home, or to her hotel or travel port, or whatever, rolling that case behind her.

I don’t know why she does it. I don’t know how she does it. I imagine that she makes enough on these shows to make a profit, but it seems a lonely and sadly depressing business.

I admire her, this woman. This isn’t all she does, obviously. This is just a sideline a few weekends a year, away from her real life. Here she gets to meet people who admire her and remember her career.

Huh.

You know, maybe I have this encroaching doom thing all wrong…