Los Angeles-based author Henry Barajas spent 2019 going to comic conventions – 15 in all across the United States, Canada and the UK – to promote his nonfiction graphic novel.

By the end of that whirlwind year, the book – “La Voz De M.A.Y.O.: Tata Rambo,” an account of his great-grandfather Ramon Jaurigue’s life as a World War II veteran and civil rights activist in Arizona – had broken even financially. Barajas had gone from selling single issues and pitching the work to teachers and librarians to getting picked up by Image Comics and Top Cow Productions who published the full story. As well, he used the conventions to promote a Kickstarter campaign that helped him pay his collaborators.

“I’m really grateful for everything that cons have done for me to be able to move forward with this legend that I’ve been trying to tell,” he says by phone.

This year, however, the prospects look dim. San Diego Comic-Con has been canceled, and multiple events on his calendar have been postponed in the wake of the COVID-19 outbreak. Barajas estimates that 60-70% of the comics he sells are through conventions, so it will be a large financial hit to him — and those like him.

“This is devastating to independent comic book creators on so many levels,” he says of the overall picture for sales this year.

Coronavirus consequences

“Devastating” is a word that came up frequently when interviewing 11 L.A.-area creative professionals on the impact of convention postponements.

The biggest one just happened: San Diego Comic-Con canceled for the first time in its history.

“For the first time in its 50-year history San Diego Comic Convention (SDCC), the organizers behind the annual pop culture celebration, announced today with deep regret, that there will be no Comic-Con in 2020,” the organization said in a statement. “The event will instead return to the San Diego Convention Center from July 22-25, 2021.

“Recognizing that countless attendees save and plan for its conventions each year, and how many exhibitors and stakeholders rely upon its events for a major portion of their livelihood, they had hoped to delay this decision in anticipation that COVID-19 concerns might lessen by summer. Continuous monitoring of health advisories and recent statements by the Governor of California have made it clear that it would not be safe to move forward with plans for this year.”

On Friday afternoon, Anime Expo in Los Angeles announced that it too would cancel, with the intent to return in 2021 for the convention’s 30th anniversary.

Of late, other disruptions have included Anaheim’s WonderCon, which was postponed until 2021, and Ontario’s Comic Con Revolution, which was postponed to August. The San Fernando Valley Comic Book Convention, scheduled for May 3, would likely be rescheduled, according to a representative for the event. Around the map, Boston’s ACE Comic Con issued refunds for its March event, Emerald City Comic Con in Seattle rescheduled to August and Toronto Comic Arts Festival, which was set for early May, was canceled.

Los Angeles Comic Con and Long Beach Comic Con appear to still be on schedule, per their websites. Both are planned for September.

Disrupted events are just one of the issues facing the comic book industry. Diamond, the primary comics distribution company in the U.S., moved to temporarily halt shipments of new titles to comic book shops in March. The challenges facing the United States Postal Service could pose problems for handling mail orders, too.

“As an author and as a creator, doing these conventions makes you feel like you have some control over your career, where so much is out of your control,” says “Batgirl” writer Cecil Castellucci, whose own series “The Plain Janes” was released as an omnibus earlier this year. “You can directly talk to people. You can be on panels and have people discover you and discover your work. It’s such a vital part of how we sell books.”

Artist Lisa K. Weber agrees.

“We haven’t found a more effective method of getting new readers than through meeting people at shows. That’s our main way of spreading the word,” says Weber, artist for the independently produced comic series “Hex 11.” “The internet can be so loud that it’s hard to get through, but these in-person places are our best way of enlarging our fanbase.”

In Barajas’ case, the success of “La Voz De M.A.Y.O.” wasn’t only because he spent 2019 promoting the book at conventions. He believes it was the culmination of more than a decade of frequenting these events as a fan and then as a professional.

“It’s about planting seeds for the future,” agrees Castellucci about the value of conventions to build relationships and raise a creator’s profile.

The outcome for income

Conventions also drive sales for visual artists who in addition to books often sell prints and other merchandise, as well as taking on commissioned work from fans.

“You’re essentially a storefront and you’re working retail for two to three days,” says artist Jose Pimienta, who has worked on projects for imprints like Dark Horse and Slave Labor Graphics and will be releasing the graphic novel “Suncatcher” in May.

For those who vend frequently at conventions, sales can result in a sustainable source of income and to have so many dates drop off their calendars at once is equivalent to losing a job.

“I have a handful of orders, but it isn’t enough to support me,” says illustrator Leanne Huynh, who sells her work primarily at conventions and secures freelance clients through the events. She has applied for unemployment and a small business loan to get through this time.

The community of comics

While conventions are often best known for the throngs of fans they draw, they also function as professional networking events for people in the comics, animation and other entertainment industries. Appearances can catch the attention of publishing houses and studios. It can mean a chance to pitch an original project or take a meeting for a job on an existing one. It can result in freelance gigs and full-time jobs.

As much as convention disruptions are a loss of work opportunities, they also represent a loss of community. These events mix commerce, education and creativity in a setting that can become a weekend-long party and that’s tough to replicate.

Rachel Dukes, the creator of the webcomic “Frankie Comics” who has also been an artist for KaBOOM!’s “Adventure Time” and “Steven Universe” titles, started right after high school and spent a decade steadily tabling at conventions.

“It created this network of friends and peers very early on in my life in comics…and we grew up into the industry together,” they explain. “Meeting all these people at conventions sort of built my career as a cartoonist.”

In the interim, people are looking at virtual alternatives to help keep the community going when they can’t meet in person. This includes everything from online panel discussions and marketplaces to relying more on artist- or project-driven crowdfunding platforms like Kickstarter, Patreon and Ko-Fi.

There’s a unique camaraderie that exists inside comic conventions, bringing together pros and fans who sometimes travel long distances for the experience and often attend specific events year after year.

“You develop a whole new family and a whole extension of your life with people that have a love for the comic book medium. That’s very special,” says Barajas.

That’s the part which will be difficult, if not impossible, to replicate.