No Scheming To Sell Out

I was thinking about Chris Onstad during dinner tonight, that minor-titan of the online comic world and creator of its darling indy-child, Achewood. And I was thinking, what could Onstad do to make more money off his comic?
I’ve been reading Achewood for the last half of its four-year run, thoroughly enjoying its consistency and unique mature humour. But does Onstad really see himself making a living from an online-only comic for the rest of his life? Does he make enough as it is, especially now that he’s started a family?
Achewood’s a popular comic to be sure, but how many of you reading this have heard of it? If I were Onstad’s business advisor what options could I present that would take Achewood to the next level in terms of exposure, popularity and especially income?
As I understand it Onstad makes the majority of his living from merchandise sales: shot glasses, stickers and that staple of the online comic artist, t-shirts. There’s also a self-published print series of collected Achewood strips, and even a cookbook. All the goods are for sale exclusively from his online store. There was a more official book publishing deal in the works over the winter, but it fell through at the last minute.
So over my bowl of chocolate ice cream I started thinking of paths that Onstad could pursue to bring in new audiences and revenue without tarnishing his cred, loosing his current fans and wavering from the quality and style that have gotten him this far.
But before I even got to schemes like online advertising, print syndication or a line of Mcfarlane figurines, I realized this is exactly the kind of thinking I’ve been gradually opposing in my own life and career philosophy.
Of course I made a couple of assumptions above: 1) that Onstad is in fact interested in increasing his income and 2) that he isn’t already adequately supplementing his income with other duties (graphic design? lecturer?).
For the sake of this article I will assume that Onstad, like most of us, is always interested in increasing his income, especially if he can combine his labour-of-love with it. There’s even evidence for this: as of late he’s been branching out, selling original Achewood paintings on eBay and limited edition prints from his online store.
I’ll make a third assumption about Achewood: being Onstad’s darling, all the money in the world couldn’t force him to sell out. It’s a tricky label, selling out, so I’ll distinguish between two forms of it: selling out on your own terms or someone else’s.
That is to say I doubt anyone begrudges Achewood for knocking out paintings of his characters and auctioning them off to the highest bidder. And I wouldn’t hold it against him for taking Achewood along on any number of moneymaking ideas. The key is that I think artists/creatives like Onstad, if they sell out, they do so on their own terms.
Business students sit down and think “I want to make X dollars per year and there is currently a hot market for widgets and sprockets; I shall I make widgets.” That’s selling out on someone else’s terms (the market’s). I’m guessing (hoping?) people like Onstad think “I’d like to make a few more bucks, people like Achewood and I like painting; I will make Achewood paintings.”
That’s the kind of romanticism I’m hoping to stick to in my career. As soon as I started thinking of ways to rake in the dough for Achewood I reminded myself there’s a parallel path to success, one where you ask the artist (or yourself) what he/she/you really loves the most about the work, and what sort of “scheme” looks the most creatively rewarding and fun.
Idealism is easier for me: I’m not married, no kids, no debt, not even insurance payments for a car. So thus far my plan, which has met with varying success, is to only take on work that I–as in my conscience, my happiness–find rewarding and hope that the stuff my wallet likes will follow. The more I read about the background and success of people I admire the more I see they have a similar ideology that has worked for them, with great success.