The Power of NO

In which I posit that you can actually use the word anytime.

Ever since we were children, we learned the power of the word “no” at our parents’ knees. It was an all-stop, go-no-further end to whatever was going on at the time, a boundary enforcer (or creator), a warning, a confirmation that something wasn’t a good idea and ought not to continue.

When, therefore, in comics did we forget that word?

I’m speaking from my own experience, of course, but one of the most common things I’ve run into as an indie writer working with artists is that no one seems to be able to say “no” when it’s clear that’s what they WANT to say (though sometimes, that clarity doesn’t come until eight or so pages into a project).

I have been ghosted, delayed, jumped through hoops and led on a merry goose chase after collaborators who swear up and down that they are interested in, and good to go on, the project we’re supposed to be working on together.

Ghosting is the most common. Rather than saying they don’t want to continue, or even begin, they simply stop responding. (This is the most frustrating when the project’s already underway, since I then have to re-start from the beginning so that I can have consistent art throughout).

Worse is when I can detect that their commitment may be flagging, and I ask if they still want to continue (another opportunity to say “no!” there, folks!), and they give me double-thumbs-up with an enthusiastic “of course!” and then turn in one more page before vanishing into the ether.

Still others want to put the onus on me to fire them rather than quit. I had a collaborator slow their roll until I was only getting a page a month (after a weekly schedule) and never did they say they’d lost interest in the project. When I finally told them I had to move on, they said “Thank god, I really didn’t want to do it anymore” to my face, but only after they’d been relieved of their burden.

Why, I wondered, couldn’t you have saved us both much frustration and anguish and simply said that when you first felt that way?

Still another “artner” had ten weeks to produce pages, being reminded of the deadline every two weeks. At each reminder they said “Yup, sure, on track,” etc. And then the day of—the day of the due date—said “Oh, I haven’t even picked up my drawing tablet in ten weeks.” No other explanation, no excuse given. They knew they weren’t going to do it, but at no time did they tell me they were done.

So what happened to “no?”

You always—always—have the power to say no. It doesn’t matter if it’s at the beginning or in the middle of a project, if you bump up against your personal boundaries, it’s on you to invoke that power. Contracts are even built around the power of “no.” Sure, there may be consequences if it’s in the middle of the work but you still have the ability, the right, to say it. No. No no no. Rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it?

These are not isolated incidents, either; they seem to be rampant all throughout at least the Indie-sphere, I don’t know about the Big Leagues. But we’ve got to collectively grow a pair and remember to say “no” if we feel like it. You don’t even have to give a reason, if you’re intimidated (or simply don’t have one). Just say no.

I have a list of people with whom I will never work again. They were the friendliest, nicest people but they screwed me over, costing me (collectively) years of time on comics I could have been publishing and moving on with. They were not adversarial, and seemed to mesh well both creatively and personally— but none of them seemed to know how to say no. And so, unfortunately, they’re dead to me, though I still see some of them advertising commission work. (I say nothing; no need to slander someone but I certainly won’t recommend them).

So please, creatives out there: If you don’t want to do the work to begin with, or if you decide later on you’ve had enough, remember the power of “no.” Don’t make excuses designed to put it off. Stand firm and simply say it. “No.” “No, thank you,” if you want to be super-polite.

Michael