Please send us an inquiry letter, detailing your writing experience and why you would like to write for Marvel. Based on your inquiry letter, we may request to read a sample of your work. Please note: Unsolicited writing samples will not be read.
- Marvel Comics Submissions Guidelines

"The Letter"
Once upon a time (read "about three weeks ago") I never got too freaked out about writing papers -- so much so I had no problem waiting until the last minute. I don't remember really sweating that essay I wrote to get into Mizzou, or any of the ones I had to write to get those scholarships. I write. It's kind of fun.

But there's this letter...

I've written a great many letters in my day, and -- if I do say so myself -- I could swap and drop some words and say I've written many great letters. I pride myself on an opening that really hooks you into my epistolary endeavor, a lot of crap in the middle (some of which is downright poignant, some of which is really rather "feh") and a closer that knocks your socks off and gets your heart swelling or smacks you in the face and makes your asshole pucker, depending on whether or not we like each other that particular week. To mangle a metaphor, I write letters for breakfast. It's kind of fun.

But there's this letter...

I've never been afraid of writing a letter. Never. Hell, more often than not it's been an easy way out of actually facing somebody about something. But I'm pissing myself over writing this damn inquiry letter to Marvel Comics. Pissing myself. Part of its because I'm not sure what they want. Everything I've read about writing to an editor says that you want to keep it concise and to the point, but I'm guessing that I really need to sell myself here, and the way I usually do that is getting a little loose and a lot of loud, because I don't look good on paper otherwise. And what do I say? They don't want my comic shop manifesto, or for me to cram a proposal for ESU between the lines. Argh.

And I guess the bigger part of the equation is that this letter could be the most momentous missive I mail out into the world ever. It's Step One of my 37 Point Plan to Conquer the Marvel Universe.

(I'm really looking forward to Step 29, which is complicated and involved but concerns the seduction and lawful impregnation of Kirsten Dunst, though that's neither here nor there.)

I want to write comics. There are times in which it pains me and shames me to say it out loud, but I really want to write comics. I think it's something I could be good at, and if it's not, it's something I'm more than willing to work to be good at (if that makes any sense at all). I want to make comics more than I want to make love (which actually might explain most -- if not all -- of my social problems and definitely goes too far). So the thought of trying and failing at this right out the gate kind of gives me the willies. I've faced down rejection before -- believe me, have I faced down rejection -- but I think this could be the kiss off that kills me. The brutal brushoff that breaks my heart in a way that can never heal, which is stupid and melodramatic and complete underestimates my resolve, but I've been told I'm a pretty easy guy to hurt most days. Whatever.

...

There's a lot to talk about. Drunken tales of stupidity and sober ones, too. I've got a serious question about my concept of the reverse romantic comedy I'd really like to tell you all about, and oh so much not so subtle subtext I could cram into the nooks and crannies between the lines, more bitching about Brian Michael Bendis and the general state of weakness I'm feeling today, all of which I'm sure would amaze and bore you to equal degrees...

But there's this letter...