Yes, It Sucks. Fix It.

I had to scramble all last week in secret maneuvers regarding my comic book -- my freshly printed comic book, of course. My freshly printed comic book with a fucking typo on on the cover.

I didn't notice this until about five hours after picking up all 150 copies, and it just happened to catch my eye as I was heading into Ingles for coffee. This was the photo I took just fatre I got the comics into my car that morning.

The belt is supposed to read SCRAP, but a coloring error created an additional line in the A and turned it into an H.After fuming about my stupidity for a good day or so, I debated reprinting the whole comic again with a corrected cover. That would be expensive, of course, and I imagined having to hear from convention customers when they saw the mistake and helpfully pointed it out and allowed me to eat shit all day long. Didn't wanna spend that money, didn't want to hear that noise. And then I realized I might have a practical fix in hand: sticker paper.

Thanks to my new desktop printer, I felt confident I could print large numbers and with good color fidelity. If I could match the color on the cover stock with my sticker paper, I could patch the offending line. Yes, it would require 150 applications of small blocks of carefully calibrated color swatches using an X-Acto knife.But it would save me serious coin, and this kind of repetitive hand work would drum into my head to need to proof once more than I think necessary. And that's what I did.

The calibrated color stripe on sticker paper, a sample slice to be cut into segments to cover the offending line, and the weapon of choice.

One of the stickers adhered to the knife en route to the cover.

Almost there.

A repaired cover. Only 149 more times until I was done.

I told Your Sister about this only because I moved the operation to the kitchen to watch the sidekick with one eye. She came back from her Friday high tea/wedding party, and I had to explain the mess. I think she was dismayed about the typo and flabbergasted by the manhours needed for the fix. And really, it's not that bad. Once I discovered I could match the color at home, the labor seemed minor. The time flew by as I fixed bundles of ten comics at a time, and now it's done. I'm happy to undertake an old-school craft method to tidy up the comic. I'm sketching artwork for my table displays, and I hope to have all the artwork done by the 14th, one week from the convention.

I stopped by the town's new comic store Saturday. They're not open yet, but I hope to display a flier there with their permission. Also, I can give them a stack of Fanaticon cards to sell the show. The timing on this is boggling: the town's first comic store within a month of my appearance at a nearby convention? BOGGLED.

Also, my photo stands for the table display arrived Friday. That's almost all the table items I need.

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I took Travis to his first roller derby bouts Saturday night, and we sat behind the benches. It's a whole new sport when you can watch the strategy unfold. Also, we chatted with both city's team members and drank lotsa local beers. We agreed that roller derby should be a collegiate female sports. It can get sponsorships and would attract a varied audience.

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We took the sidekick to a birthday party Sunday. He continues to gravitate toward wheeled items he can walk behind. He approached and petted a big dog with no fear despite many, many sloppy dog kisses. His mother was horrified.