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Each money machine, once set up, can by fully automated and bring in automated cash flow each and every month for a very long time. Tomorrow we’ll get deep into Part 2 which is all about a specific way to connect to people using story telling. I have a simple system for connecting to people using story and that’s all that matters.
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It was a Tuesday in July and I was sitting in the "cartoonist lounge" on the 20th floor of the Conde Nast building in Times Square with an envelope containing 10 drawings: my first cartoon submissions to The New Yorker. Another seven or eight cartoonists were squeezed into the small waiting room, which is dominated by a long coffee table stacked with hundreds of New Yorker magazines.
One by one, in the order they'd arrived, cartoonists disappeared into Mankoff's office and emerged a few minutes later. Fifty years ago, you could make a modest living selling work to popular, general interest magazines like Cavalier, Fact, Look, the Saturday Evening Post, and the Saturday Review, but today it's almost impossible to eke out a living as a gag cartoonist. If making graphic novels felt like a staid long-term relationship, then doing gag comics is like playing the field.
Once upon a time, before The New Yorker featured photos and illustrations, the cartoon was the magazines' visual star. I started doodling randomly on scrap sheets of papers, trying to draw something surprising or something that made me laugh. When my life didn't offer usable material I started reaching for the low hanging fruit: desert-island gags and gorillas. According to Matthew Diffee's book of unpublished New Yorker cartoons, The Rejection Collection, there are about 50 regular New Yorker cartoonists who submit 10 cartoons each week.
When I finished my sketchbook I estimated about 50 of my 90 comics wouldn't look out of place in the current issue of The New Yorker (a generous assessment). From reading cartoonist's blogs and books about The New Yorker's history I knew that the cartoon editor looked at work on Tuesdays. On the Tuesday I showed up there were three cartoonists besides me who were hoping to make a first sale.
He thought that a superhero gag would be funnier if I used specific superheroes (huh) and that the mention of Ira Glass in a caption would be too obscure (really?). He suggested I stay away from desert-island gags and the incongruity gag (in which there's a disconnect between the caption and the picture).
Mankoff said so many submissions he looks at are not even in the neighborhood and that I was in the neighborhood but that I was going to have to figure out what my work was about, how it was distinct. On the way to the restaurant, we passed giant banners of Charles Addams drawings hanging from the facade of the the Lunt Fontanne Theater.


At the restaurant a long table was already set up and glasses of red wine were served as soon as we took our seat.
I started the drawings for the right reasons, but in taking them to The New Yorker, I was looking for a feather for my cap. We, as a credit card processor, are continuously improving our system with more money making features. None of the other things matter unless you have a product to promote to a specific audience. It’s better if you have some knowledge about the niche you choose but not 100% necessary. Every Tuesday is judgment day, the day Robert Mankoff, the magazine's cartoon editor, meets with cartoonists face to face. There are still places that buy gag cartoons (like pharmaceutical brochures and yoga magazines) but none with the tradition or cachet of The New Yorker. Mankoff's cartooning credo, as outlined in his 2002 book, The Naked Cartoonist, is that it's the idea that transforms a quirky little drawing into a New Yorker cartoon. It got harder and harder to generate gags, and I often found myself staring at a blank page at eleven o'clock at night, just wanting to get something down so I could go to bed. The best of these doodles— Frankenstein's monster staring at his big hands, a rabbi taking bong hits in a dorm room—I would then redraw slightly tighter in the gag sketchbook and have faith a caption would come later. Though today's New Yorker cartoonists write their own gags, throughout the magazine's first four decades, most cartoonists didn't (Steinberg and Steig being the most notable exceptions). I always had a pen ready and whether I was hanging out with my kids, going to the doctor (after a suspicious looking bull's-eye rash appeared on my chest), or bickering with my wife—I was filtering it for a potential cartoon.
My friend Harry Bliss (New Yorker cartoonist and fellow Vermonter) was kind enough to put me in touch with Mankoff's assistant, who told me to show up on July 12 so Mankoff could look at my work. But even with this additional income, you probably need to have a lot more gigs or a day job. Mankoff thought that the complaint in my GPS gag was already dated (not for my GPS!) and that my gorilla cartoon with the snake charmer might be deemed offensive or just passe (point taken). These are overdone, and if he were going to use this type of material, he would turn to the all-stars he already has on his bench (baseball metaphor his).
Many of the other cartoonists who had already shown work were still there, waiting to go out for lunch—a long-standing Tuesday tradition that any cartoonist, published or not, could be part of. I wondered whether any of today's New Yorker cartoonists were exceptional enough to someday inspire a Broadway musical. This wasn't where I belonged as a cartoonist, and if by some miracle I were able to sell one of my 50 cartoons, I would be taking a slot away from someone more deserving. See merchant processing agreement and service agreement terms and conditions for complete details.


Each one of the parts of that formula are DEEP subjects requiring THOUSANDS of hours of training to really get it down. If after a week I couldn't come up with anything, I'd e-mail the drawing to my dad, who, by virtue of entering The New Yorker caption contest on a regular basis (and once being one of the three finalists), seemed the right man for the job. Even many of the magazine's most iconic cartoons, Charles Addams' skier (the tracks on either side of the tree), Thurber's decapitated fencer ("touche"), and almost everything Peter Arno drew were written by someone else. That's not counting submissions from cartoonists whose work appears in the magazine irregularly or the thousand or so weekly unsolicited submissions (which stand almost no chance of getting in).
I sat next to David Sipress, one of my favorite current New Yorker cartoonists, who told me he submitted for 25 years before he cracked the pages of The New Yorker. I was in the neighborhood, just visiting, not willing to stay there long enough to become a full-time resident. Drawings boasted delicately controlled gray washes, accomplished pen and brushwork, and finely observed details.
Besides knowing what made people tick, Steig possessed that holy combination of looseness and precision that gives great cartooning its casual authority. Since Mankoff often wants to see people submit for months (if not years) before buying a cartoon, this didn't afford me a huge window of opportunity, but years ago, against all odds, I sold a cover to the magazine on my first try and I was hoping lightning could strike twice. If you make a sale, depending on your tenure with the magazine, you can make anywhere from around $675 to $1,400 a gag. You got the idea that the cartoonists paid attention as they moved through the city; their drawings existed in the observable world as much as in the realm of ideas. So in March I decided to fill a sketchbook, 90 pages, with New Yorker-style cartoons—one cartoon a day for three months.
In addition to his diagrammatic drawings of time and space, Saul Steinberg could render Fifth Avenue or the interior of a theater with a flourish of details that testified to his presence.
I had my pride, and if I was going to produce another 60 gags I needed to approach things differently. My life has always felt as if it was grist for my creative mill, but now the mill had a daily quota that I was straining to meet. I already had a half-dozen keepers and was confident there were plenty more winners on the way. It was at this point that I started dreaming of actually selling a cartoon to The New Yorker.



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