I first got the idea to start Squid & Ink after reading several web comics' news posts in which the authors resigned to the fact that they couldn't continue updating their comics at the same frequency, or at all, because the comics were growing into full-time jobs, and their real full-time jobs, the ones that provided an income with which they could pay for necessities like food and pencils, took precedence. Though several web comic authors have managed to turn their hobby into successful full-time jobs, while others supplement their regular incomes by selling ad space, t-shirts and other swag, and using the comic as a vehicle to promote their freelance illustration services, there wasn't, and still isn't as far as I'm aware, a reliable business model for web comic and indie comic authors (look for a deeper analysis of web comic business models in the first issue of Squid & Ink). I saw an opportunity to fulfill this need, by combining the many talented, innovative authors who were creating and distributing comics for free with the successful and time-tested advertising-supported print magazine model.

Advertisers would pay to reach the young, educated, flush with disposable income audience that reads web comics, and part of the advertising revenue would go to the contributors for making their audiences accessible to advertisers.

The advantage of print over web is that the print magazine is a traditional medium that's extensively researched — from the most impactive ad designs, to the correlation between eyeballs and sales — to make the most money for their client at the least risk. As opposed to web advertising, which nobody really understands yet — and if anyone tells you otherwise he or she is lying — where calculating metrics is more about detecting fraud than counting readers, and the most effective advertisers are part nerd, part artist, and part witch-doctor, who work in a medium where one's 15 minutes of fame could literally last just 15 minutes, after which one could be booted off the internet for overusing a catchphrase.

"Web" comics, in the context of Squid & Ink, gain a new meaning. They are not only comics published on the internet, but comics derived from the spirit and potential of the internet — freedom, innovation, a close author-audience connection. (Kind of like the way "indie" music can refer to independent music, or the genre of indie music — I don't actually know what characterizes indie (genre) music, but I imagine it involves amelodic tunes harmonized with low static, and its fans consist of pretentious musicphiles who spend a lot of money on looking poor. But I digress.) These types of names need a different term to avoid the misnomer "web comics", and until someone comes up with one I prefer to further dilute the indie brand and refer to them as indie comics. Whatever they're called, these comics and their authors would more easily make the transition from the web to so-called legitimate mediums without having to expunge whatever makes them unique to conform to the clean and inoffensive style of syndicated comics, or surrender the rights to one's art to work for a major comic publisher.

So that was the business idea. When it came to developing it, I made the mistake of doing it in reverse order. I began to research whether this was a viable idea — from the artists' perspective. I contacted web and print comic artists about whether they would be interested in such a project. When I found enough that were, I gathered together a team and started developing a mockup, which we would then use to sell Squid & Ink to advertisers. Only last did we seriously pursue funding.

Though most of our revenue would come from advertising, ad space is sold on accounts receivable, which you collect after 30 days (if you're lucky) of printing. I initially figured that if we sold all the available ad space in the first issue, and hit our subscription goal of 1000 readers, we could afford to print the first issue from all the subscription sales and/or by convincing a bank to give us a short term loan based on our projected income and/or sheer force of will.

And that's still an option we're considering. But it puts all the risk on the owners of the company and everyone who pre-ordered a subscription, so if we published one issue and then folded from the weight of all our good ideas and pixie-dust-flavoured financial projections, then we'd lose a lot of money and anger thousands of our customers whose money went to fund a bankruptcy. One of the sleazy corporate strategies I learned recently is that a good business, from an accountant's perspective, is one that balances its financial risk between its owners and faceless institutions whom you don't mind potentially screwing over — usually banks. We're currently pursuing that strategy and I'm optimistic.

Since we've finally reached the first step to starting your own business — last — I'm ready to share some of the things I've learned with anyone foolish, tenacious, or rich enough to start his or her own business.

This is an important, some would say vital, step to starting your own business and it's best not to skip it. If you have heaps of money, it's overwhelmingly easier to acquire more funding; from your rich friends; from your rich friends' rich friends; from government incentive programs; from foundations dedicated to the enrichment of the wealthy; from banks who'll offer you huge loans in order to profit from the interest, secure in the knowledge that if your company fails you're good for the debt even though you've probably hired the best lawyers and accountants to shield you from any liability, which still leaves all your company's shareholders and board of directors to pursue; from your stock trader buddies to whom you'll offer lots of secret shares below the market value in exchange for their investment, instantly making them millions of dollars on paper, which they'll immediately sell, for actual millions of dollars, to unsuspecting traders who misinterpret the precipitous rise in your company's stock as growth instead of an expanding bubble of deceit and fraud that finally bursts long after you've sold the company and moved to a tropical island with no extradition treaties.

If this is not an option for you, see Step 1A for a possible alternative.

Pick the quickest method with the best return. A business is not a great way to rich, but rather to multiply your wealth to obscene levels. Instead, consider asking a rich relative for money. Barring that, ingratiate yourself into a rich relative's will — religiously conservative relatives with weak hearts are particularly fond of stories about any bondage-themed orgies you might have participated in, their protestations and heart-clutchings notwithstanding.

It's easy to tell when you've completed step 1. Ask yourself: Are any pieces of furniture in your house encrusted with a precious mineral? Do you have no concept of money because anything you want you point at and instantly receive, and you're not eight months old? Are you listening to this blog as its recited to you by a naked butler in a seven-star hotel room in Dubai? If you answered yes to any of these questions, congratulations! You're ready to start your own business. Buy a startup. Hell, buy several and merge them to form a mega startup specializing in organic weapons platforms that target your abs, or whatever interests you — it's your company, have fun with it.

If Step 1/A seems too difficult, come back next week to read the next installment. By the end of this guide, I'm sure you'll agree that it's the easiest step of them all.