What a lovely, lovely show, this MoCCA.

After two days of pimping myself solid, I’m exhausted. Highlights of the weekend included meeting Mike Mignola, who tells me that the ultimate source for much of his reference material is the folklore section of Barnes & Noble. The secret is out, and I’m not doin’ half bad!

I told him that folklore adaptations are my bag. He said that I need a vehicle, otherwise nobody’s going to care, because us folklore nerds are few and far between. He’s absolutely right, and being a smart girl, I figured that out a while ago. I’m workin’ on it, I’m workin’ on it. In the meantime, how ’bout some comics about witches that don’t suck?

Jim Rugg is delightful. And, holy Greg Ruth, Batman — that guy’s just amazing. Sweet and funny and hugelyamazinglytalented, and I really wish that he lived around here so that we could all hang out more often, as he and Leland really like each other.

Traffic was rather slow at last year’s MoCCA, unlike the two previous shows. So when the time rolled around and we actually scored a table off the waiting list, I had mixed feelings. Neither of us had anything new; would it be worth it?

That’s a yes, cap’n. Thanks to things like signs on lamp posts and a write-up in THE NEW YORKER, the place was packed yet again. Even from our lowly position by the smoking door in the “C” room ghetto, we paid for our table on day one. Leland sold out of almost everything, and we both made caboodles of contacts. Plus, well, the comics community is just so cool. Great vibes bouncing all around the room, all weekend long — it’s bound to change even the most jaded creator’s outlook for the better.

But now it’s time to get back to work. We won’t be emptyhanded at SPX, oh no…