Over the weekend I was able to teach a class on basic comic book writing. I always love these classes, but I realized while I was speaking that I'd never turned this talk into an essay for the blog, so I'm remedying that now.
As the cheerleaders say, "Ready? Oooo-Kay!"
The Pre-Writing
Rule number one. Read comic books. Whether you want to call them graphic novels, sequential storytelling, floppies, or the classic term comic books, you must read them.
If you want to know how this particular medium works you must be well versed in it. Just like a screenplay or a stage play has its own set of rules, comic book writing has its own set of rules as well.
Rule number two. Think big. Your special effects budget is only limited by your artist's ability and your combined imagination. That interstellar battle you could never get a budget for in an indie movie or for a stage play, go ahead and write it. That hospital being attacked by giant cockroach creatures from a mythology you made up, no problem (I, in fact, did write this scene in Fishnet Angel: Jane Doe). Just do it, as Nike said. The sky is the limit. Your SFX bottom line is infinity. Period. (Unless your artist's hand cramps up.)
Remember your basics. You still need a story. You still need a story triangle with rising action, falling action, etc. You still need a beginning, middle, and end (even if you are writing a multi-issue with cliffhanger endings). You still need well developed characters. You still need a reason for the story and it needs to have something to say. Comics are no different than classic literature or Summer bestsellers that way.
One last thing... and this part is going to sound like I'm arguing with myself. These two things sound like they're the opposite of each other. But don't be fooled. They're important.
Here it is: Tighten your story. Now, once it's tight, let it breathe.
This is important no matter how contradictory it sounds because you have to make sure your story is going to fit in your page count unless you're coming out of the stocks with something like Blankets or Maus or From Hell. More often than not, your limit is going to be closer to 22 pages.
You want a story that's going to fit in that page count. Because even if you have a to-be-continued cliffhanger, you still need to deliver a full story with that beginning, middle, and end mentioned earlier.
Next, now once you have that story set, you need to be able to pace that scene across a page or two or three or four, depending on the scene. A heavily talky scene? Maybe cover that one in a single page with lots of dialog. A key action sequence, like a fight or breaking into a mansion? Give that sucker room to space out and draw in the reader with lots of exciting visuals.
The Script (Itself?) Itself
So you've got your story figured out and paced and you are ready to put your script onto paper. Now what?
One is full script. It is a lot like writing a screenplay or a stage play. You fill in all the background stuff. You supply all the dialogue and attribute it to the characters. Then the artist follows your stage direction to make pictures.
The second format is something called Marvel style. "Stan Lee, creator and co-creator of some of the most popular comic book characters and stories of all time, is credited with also having introduced the ‘plot script’ method which became known as the ‘Marvel Method’ or ‘Marvel House Style’"(Clarendon House Books). This format requires the writer just writing out a whole scene almost prose style (plots, not panel breakdowns) and letting the artist divide that scene into panels as he or she sees fit. After that, the writer (or some other person) returns and adds the dialogue later in some cases or supplies the dialogue in the narrative they first sent to the artist in other cases.
Once you and your artist settle on a format, now it's time to actually begin your script.
This is a visual form of storytelling so start with a high point of action, violence, or visual interest. In other words, you typically want to avoid the killer getting out of the car, walking up the drive to the door, ringing the doorbell, and waiting for the victim to open the door, then raising the knife to strike. Instead, you generally want to start with the door swung open, the knife hungry for flesh, and the shock of impending death on the victim's face. Then, if you want, give us a littel flashback if you must, but show us some leg for a good tease first, you flirt.
First, describe the scene and setting. If you've ever wanted to create a long info dump about your setting without having to include any of that pesky characterization stuff, here's your chance. Just dump it all. Describe that building. Your artist is going to need to know that, all of that from the stuffed moose head mounted on the wall above the fireplace to the red wine stain on the carpet near the door heading out of the room. Until you change settings, you won't really have to redescribe this again unless you're showing various parts of a room or setting in multiple panels. Anytime you introduce something new, describe it. If you want to foreshadow something, feel free to introduce in the first panel of the scene and come back to it.
But remember Checkov's rule (adapted for comics). If you introduce a gun in panel 1, have someone use it eventually before the issue ends.
But... only one action per character per panel. You are describing a single moment in time, not a series of things happening. In a single prose sentence, a character can walk into a room, pour a drink, and wipe dust off a knick-knack on the mantel. Not so in comics.
Yes, I know artists can use "ghosted motion" or whatever you want to call it, but that's a trick you want to indulge in sparingly. But save that for the more advanced class.
So, one action per character per panel. That's the rule you must learn and master before you can effectively break it. When you describe your action, use words that are specific and targeted. Vague language is your enemy when it comes to description in comic book panels. The same goes for your weak "thoughtless" words like "very," "really," and "thing." Be concrete. Be visual. Be detailed. If an action or motion is so vague you can't describe it well, how do you ever expect your artist to draw it? Either come up with another action or figure out how to effectively describe it so it translates into something that can be understood and drawn.
Finally, add the word stuff.
This includes dialog, captions, thought balloons, anything that is not a picture.
But remember, space is finite. And it's smaller than you think it is. This will affect your dialog. Make sure it's terse and can fit into a panel. Some folks will give you formulas for fitting so many words into so many inches of a comic book panel, but not me. I'll simply give you this advice. Whatever length you have written, shorten it. If you can't shorten it, break it across two panels with a "--" or a "..."
As a former letterer, I learned quickly to change the way I wrote dialog and captions when I had to squeeze them into a panel without covering the important parts of an artist's illustrations. This is no greater sin in a visual medium than covering the visual with the verbose. Period.
Finally, because this one is too important to forget to mention. I learned this one from years of reading comics and reading scripts by my favorite comic book writers.
Write for the page turn.
What does that mean? It means the last panel on each page is your advertisement to get the reader to turn the page. You must tantalize him, her, or them to be intrigued enough to commit to one more page.
In an indie book without internal ads, this is easy. Your page turns will be at the bottom right of every odd-numbered page. Easy-peasy, breezy, beautiful Cover Girl. If you are writing for a midlist or bigger publisher, you might want to ask (if permitted) to know where the advertisements will fall so you can know in advance what pages will need these "mini-cliffhangers."
Making It Look Pretty
There is a sad truth to comic book writing.
As a writer, you can't do this alone.
If you are an artist, you will be in demand. The more talent and experience you have, the more demand you can expect. But as a writer, you will often be considered the less important partner since comic book stories stand out for their visual elements. Sadly this means that it is easier for artists to find work in comics than it is to find writers.
That's just a fact you and I have to live with. Unless we have a NYT best-selling novel series or have photos of an editor in a compromising position. (Just kidding, kind of.)
Network. Network. Network.
Seek out artists on social media. Looking into local colleges with an art program or, even better, local art schools.
Frequent comic book shops. Get to know the owners. Get to know the workers. Get to know other customers. Be a customer. Can I tell you something true? People who want to draw comics go to comic book stores. They go to comic book stores a lot. So you need to be there too.
Build relationships with several artists, preferably those with different styles.
Are you sitting down? I hope you are because here's another sad truth to face. You very well may have to pay for the art you want. Chances are you can find an artist who will do your comic with you because they want "exposure bucks" or need something for their own portfolio. However, if you want the artist whose work really grabbed you by the throat, be prepared to pay for it.
I know. I know. It's not fair. We writers should be paid for our work too. But that's just the way the cook crumbles, Buttercup, particularly regarding comic book writing.
No comments:
Post a Comment