For most of my life (which admittedly isn't too long), I have been the self-deprecating type. If you insult yourself before anybody else does it, they won't have as much fun doing it. If you don't think that your work is any good, then you will never have to worry about getting egotistical or about getting your ego deflated. If your work is junk to you, it also forces you to keep trying harder and harder to do better. It certainly worked for quite a while.
I told this to one of my professors once. He told me that there reaches a point where that ideology becomes a hindrance. If you never think your work is any good, it will only go so far (it occurs to me now that this goes along with the misguided hope of getting discovered). Eventually, you have to start taking pride in your work. You have to know that what you do is worth writing and worth reading. You have to show it to other people with that enthusiasm and let the pride in your work drive you to keep writing and do even better.
That advice really struck me. I had never heard anything like that. If I did, it certainly never resonated before. I never got that conversation out of my head, but it wasn't until now that I really experienced it.
I am extremely proud of my comic. I love writing it. I love reading it. When I go back and read scripts I've made, I laugh out loud. If I can make myself laugh with stuff I've already written that doesn't even have the accompanying pictures, then I am positive other people will love it. And that's how it has been for me. I don't just hope the comic will take off; I am certain of it. I'm being realistic, knowing how extremely hard it will be, but I know that I have an exceptional product in a market supersaturated with crap. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that this pride is doing wonders for the comic itself. I want to advertise it, to share it with everybody, and to do it full-time (and dedicating your life to one thing says a lot about how much you love it).
If I ever came across somebody who had the same ideology that I used to have, I know I would give them the same advice that was given to me.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Working With a Partner
The creative process is a complicated affair in general, but if you ever think you have a handle on it, I highly suggest trying to do it with another person, just to complicate them more. I'm exaggerating here, but only so much. Trying to create with a partner is a completely different process.
Going solo, the hardest part of the process is coming up with ideas. Although inspiration does come from time to time, the dry spells require sheer force of will. This is where a partner is a great asset. Sometimes a writer just needs a sounding board and sometimes they need somebody to think of something we just aren't thinking of. A partner can do both of those things.
But for as easy as it is to come up with ideas, the partner also makes it harder to agree on which ones to use. The most important thing to remember is that it is no longer either person's vision, but the group's vision. Both sides need to compromise, but still fight the good fight to make an excellent piece of work.
One piece of advice I have heard is to separate the tasks. When each person has control over their own domain, they stay out of each other's hair and the pieces will fit together as long as everybody pulls their own weight. Although I know it is a solid piece of advice, I don't always agree with it. There's a lot of nuance that makes it harder to define.
For my comic, I write and my friend does the art. Kels is a far better artist and I'm a far better writer. That doesn't mean that we are incompetant at each other's jobs, just less skilled. As I said earlier, my partner acts as a sounding board and as an idea generator. And I do the same thing for Kelly's art. When I am writing a script, I'm planning out where characters are, what actions occur, and how the panels themselves would show it. However, Kelly has more experience, so he usually has a stronger, clearer idea of how to make those. And at that point, I shut up, sit back, and let him do his job.
But, for as wonderful and perfect as the partnership is, it isn't perfect. Sometimes we disagree on things that we don't see as petty. One of us has to back down, but neither wants to. Othertimes the stress just gets the better of us. As much of a blast as doing a comic is, it is still a labor-intensive process. When you spend 6 hours penciling, inking, coloring, shading, and highlighting a 4-panel strip, then get criticism, it's understandable that you won't want to hear it.
Still, though, partnerships amaze me. Probably the most amazing thing is that they even occur at all. My own experience in the comic world is that there are countless writers who think they can't draw, but I have never once met an artist who thought they couldn't write. So with artists rarely looking to partner with a writer, the pool of availability instantly drops significantly. Of the artists that are willing to work with writers, a good majority of them aren't looking for a partnership, but a business relationship. The artist is basically commissioned to draw a comic, then gets a flat fee, rather than acting as a partner in the comic itself. Of the handful of artists that want to work with a writer and do it as an equal partner, there is then the problem of finding somebody who shares the same vision, has an acceptable artistic style, and equally would enjoy the project. The odds of those two people finding each other are microscopic.
That said, though, I must say that I am ecstatic to have found that magic person that fits all of the guidelines. The fact that there even is such a person makes all of the minor trouble within the relationship completely inconsequential.
Going solo, the hardest part of the process is coming up with ideas. Although inspiration does come from time to time, the dry spells require sheer force of will. This is where a partner is a great asset. Sometimes a writer just needs a sounding board and sometimes they need somebody to think of something we just aren't thinking of. A partner can do both of those things.
But for as easy as it is to come up with ideas, the partner also makes it harder to agree on which ones to use. The most important thing to remember is that it is no longer either person's vision, but the group's vision. Both sides need to compromise, but still fight the good fight to make an excellent piece of work.
One piece of advice I have heard is to separate the tasks. When each person has control over their own domain, they stay out of each other's hair and the pieces will fit together as long as everybody pulls their own weight. Although I know it is a solid piece of advice, I don't always agree with it. There's a lot of nuance that makes it harder to define.
For my comic, I write and my friend does the art. Kels is a far better artist and I'm a far better writer. That doesn't mean that we are incompetant at each other's jobs, just less skilled. As I said earlier, my partner acts as a sounding board and as an idea generator. And I do the same thing for Kelly's art. When I am writing a script, I'm planning out where characters are, what actions occur, and how the panels themselves would show it. However, Kelly has more experience, so he usually has a stronger, clearer idea of how to make those. And at that point, I shut up, sit back, and let him do his job.
But, for as wonderful and perfect as the partnership is, it isn't perfect. Sometimes we disagree on things that we don't see as petty. One of us has to back down, but neither wants to. Othertimes the stress just gets the better of us. As much of a blast as doing a comic is, it is still a labor-intensive process. When you spend 6 hours penciling, inking, coloring, shading, and highlighting a 4-panel strip, then get criticism, it's understandable that you won't want to hear it.
Still, though, partnerships amaze me. Probably the most amazing thing is that they even occur at all. My own experience in the comic world is that there are countless writers who think they can't draw, but I have never once met an artist who thought they couldn't write. So with artists rarely looking to partner with a writer, the pool of availability instantly drops significantly. Of the artists that are willing to work with writers, a good majority of them aren't looking for a partnership, but a business relationship. The artist is basically commissioned to draw a comic, then gets a flat fee, rather than acting as a partner in the comic itself. Of the handful of artists that want to work with a writer and do it as an equal partner, there is then the problem of finding somebody who shares the same vision, has an acceptable artistic style, and equally would enjoy the project. The odds of those two people finding each other are microscopic.
That said, though, I must say that I am ecstatic to have found that magic person that fits all of the guidelines. The fact that there even is such a person makes all of the minor trouble within the relationship completely inconsequential.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Pictures and Art
One of the most common pieces of advice I have ever heard about comics is to focus on your writing. "Good writing can make up for bad art, but good art can never make up for good writing." I do agree with this technically, but I always feel like it trivializes an important aspect of comicking.
Before people read your comic, they see your comic. The artistic style alone will say a great deal about your comic. People love to point out xkcd, Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, and Cyanide & Happiness as examples of good writing surpassing bad art, but you will also notice that all of these are comedic comics and so their crude style explains to the reader that it isn't meant to be taken too seriously. In fact, Zach Weiner, who does SMBC, did a joint comic with Chris Jones called Captain Excelsior, and the much better (though not photorealistic) art showed that the comic was far more serious than his other comic.
I think that even a funny comic should have good art. One of the best examples in the comic world would have to be Least I Could Do, which currently has an amazing artist and a great writer. With the two working together, they make a comic which is great to read and wonderful to look at. I would also point out Starslip, which very recently underwent a major update in artistic style. Although the story was enough to keep me reading from the beginning through every update, Kris Straub (the creator) decided that his artistic ability had gotten so much better over the years that the comic deserved a cosmetic touchup. And the end result is a comic that is now visually and intellectually stimulating.
As much as I would love to be an independent comicker, I simply can't. I have never trained myself to draw and don't plan on investing the time to do so. I have invested my time learning how to be funny and poingant (sometimes at the same time), so I would rather find somebody who shares my vision, and can put it on paper.
Before people read your comic, they see your comic. The artistic style alone will say a great deal about your comic. People love to point out xkcd, Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, and Cyanide & Happiness as examples of good writing surpassing bad art, but you will also notice that all of these are comedic comics and so their crude style explains to the reader that it isn't meant to be taken too seriously. In fact, Zach Weiner, who does SMBC, did a joint comic with Chris Jones called Captain Excelsior, and the much better (though not photorealistic) art showed that the comic was far more serious than his other comic.
I think that even a funny comic should have good art. One of the best examples in the comic world would have to be Least I Could Do, which currently has an amazing artist and a great writer. With the two working together, they make a comic which is great to read and wonderful to look at. I would also point out Starslip, which very recently underwent a major update in artistic style. Although the story was enough to keep me reading from the beginning through every update, Kris Straub (the creator) decided that his artistic ability had gotten so much better over the years that the comic deserved a cosmetic touchup. And the end result is a comic that is now visually and intellectually stimulating.
As much as I would love to be an independent comicker, I simply can't. I have never trained myself to draw and don't plan on investing the time to do so. I have invested my time learning how to be funny and poingant (sometimes at the same time), so I would rather find somebody who shares my vision, and can put it on paper.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Prestidigitation
It is commonly defined as "slight of hand" or "magic." In terms of performers, magic is either done by speed or by misdirection. If my hands are moving fast enough, you can't see the subtle movements happening among the gross ones, which allows me to make unrecognizable changes and magic happens. But if I don't want to do gross and fine movements in the same hand, I can do the gross movements in one hand and the fine movements in the other. You will still focus on the gross movements and ignore the fine ones, still allowing magic to occur.
Story telling works the same way. If I tell a story quickly and excitingly enough, you won't notice the subtler aspects. This is especially true in Hollywood blockbusters, where a continuous string of explosions, car chases, shouting, and fast music make the audience forget that the characters have no motivation or acting ability. Even if I am telling an oral story to my friend, enthusiasm in my voice and wild gestures will make people not think about the fact that there is a missing piece of the story to explain why it all happened in the first place.
Unfortunately, written stories do not allow this luxury. Since everything is exposed and the audience can take all of the time it needs to study it, there is no flash that can cover up a flawed story. Because of that, it may be more difficult to write a good story, but I prefer it that way. Since I am a logical fellow and I always want to know the hows and whys of a story and its characters, this is information I will always have before I tell a story.
In the realm of comics, though, we have a blending of these two methods. Because it is still written down, the audience can still take their time and analyze the work, thus making sure that the subtle nuances of the story are covered. However, because of the visual aspect that is involved, it allows me to manipulate people just enough. Since I am not using my words to describe the action, and since I don't have actual motion to show action happening, I need to use the subtle qualities of layout and design to make the audience go where I want and think in a certain way. Ordering the panels in a certain sequence make the reader follow in a certain manner. Vertical panels show upward/downward actions or scale in height. Horizontal panels can show scale in length and action along that plane.
There are whole books written on the tricks that can be done in comics to manipulate the readers, but the point of it all is that I am happy to be in a medium that requires a solidly constructed story, but still allows for manipulating the reader just a little bit.
Story telling works the same way. If I tell a story quickly and excitingly enough, you won't notice the subtler aspects. This is especially true in Hollywood blockbusters, where a continuous string of explosions, car chases, shouting, and fast music make the audience forget that the characters have no motivation or acting ability. Even if I am telling an oral story to my friend, enthusiasm in my voice and wild gestures will make people not think about the fact that there is a missing piece of the story to explain why it all happened in the first place.
Unfortunately, written stories do not allow this luxury. Since everything is exposed and the audience can take all of the time it needs to study it, there is no flash that can cover up a flawed story. Because of that, it may be more difficult to write a good story, but I prefer it that way. Since I am a logical fellow and I always want to know the hows and whys of a story and its characters, this is information I will always have before I tell a story.
In the realm of comics, though, we have a blending of these two methods. Because it is still written down, the audience can still take their time and analyze the work, thus making sure that the subtle nuances of the story are covered. However, because of the visual aspect that is involved, it allows me to manipulate people just enough. Since I am not using my words to describe the action, and since I don't have actual motion to show action happening, I need to use the subtle qualities of layout and design to make the audience go where I want and think in a certain way. Ordering the panels in a certain sequence make the reader follow in a certain manner. Vertical panels show upward/downward actions or scale in height. Horizontal panels can show scale in length and action along that plane.
There are whole books written on the tricks that can be done in comics to manipulate the readers, but the point of it all is that I am happy to be in a medium that requires a solidly constructed story, but still allows for manipulating the reader just a little bit.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Why vs. Why Not
Among the people I have met, I have generally been able to categorize them into two categories: Why and Why not. Whenever I share my creative thoughts, they will reply with one of those two answers. They come from such different worlds, but both have such strengths.
The Why people are grounded in reality. Creative ideas are ones that are not common, so these people need to know exactly how and these concepts work and why they exist at all. They will make sure that whatever I create is approachable, reachable, understandable, etc. If the audience just doesn't get it, then why are you bothering to share it with them?
The Why Not camp is the exact opposite of grounded. They float freely in the realm of possibility. All ideas are equally valid and should be explored. These people allow the mind to create, to try new things, to find out what is possible, but isn't done. If you are giving the audience what it has already seen countless times, why are they going to care about you over anybody else?
In the debate between these to sides, I find myself firmly planted on the fence. I have to give both sides due respect for having valid points, even though they somewhat contradict each other. This is why I think the middle ground is the best place to take on the issue. If your ideas are too unfocused or disjointed, you can't expect the audience to take the trip with you. If they are too obvious or simple, the audience won't care enough to raise you above the rest of the hundreds of thousands of starving artists.
As for the process itself, I start with the why not, then go to the why. I find it fun for creating and for mental exercise. Try to create the oddest thing you can think of; try to come up with two things that have absolutely nothing to do with each other. Once you have this abomination of thought, find out why this abomination exists, how it could happen, and what it does. When you can create something that doesn't normally exist and then explain it so thoroughly that we accept its existence, you have an idea worth developing and worth sharing.
The Why people are grounded in reality. Creative ideas are ones that are not common, so these people need to know exactly how and these concepts work and why they exist at all. They will make sure that whatever I create is approachable, reachable, understandable, etc. If the audience just doesn't get it, then why are you bothering to share it with them?
The Why Not camp is the exact opposite of grounded. They float freely in the realm of possibility. All ideas are equally valid and should be explored. These people allow the mind to create, to try new things, to find out what is possible, but isn't done. If you are giving the audience what it has already seen countless times, why are they going to care about you over anybody else?
In the debate between these to sides, I find myself firmly planted on the fence. I have to give both sides due respect for having valid points, even though they somewhat contradict each other. This is why I think the middle ground is the best place to take on the issue. If your ideas are too unfocused or disjointed, you can't expect the audience to take the trip with you. If they are too obvious or simple, the audience won't care enough to raise you above the rest of the hundreds of thousands of starving artists.
As for the process itself, I start with the why not, then go to the why. I find it fun for creating and for mental exercise. Try to create the oddest thing you can think of; try to come up with two things that have absolutely nothing to do with each other. Once you have this abomination of thought, find out why this abomination exists, how it could happen, and what it does. When you can create something that doesn't normally exist and then explain it so thoroughly that we accept its existence, you have an idea worth developing and worth sharing.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Good, Evil, and Other
"Good" and "evil" seem like simple enough concepts to understand, and yet I have lately been perplexed by them. What exactly makes something good or evil? Sure, they are opposites, but what are they opposites of?
When I think of good and evil, especially when paired together, I can't help but think of super heroes. Most people will acknowledge Superman as good, so what does he do that deserves the title? One explanation is that he defends truth, justice, and the American Way. Of course, since truth and justice are part of the American Way (in theory), we can just stick with the latter term.
If Superman defends the American Way, then his opponents must be trying to destroy the American Way. In that case, "good" is the American Way and "evil" is anything that isn't the American Way. However, there are super heroes other countries who are considered good by those people, but do not defend the American Way. So what we are left with is that "good" is defending the status quo (or the establishment) and evil is trying to destroy that establishment.
With these rather broad definitions, a number of people can be put into categories we might never think of. Al Capone could be considered a hero because he defended the American establishment of drinking. Martin Luther King Jr. would be evil because he tried to destroy hundreds of years of established racism. In case you couldn't tell at this point, I am not arguing these things. No hate mail, please (at least not for this part).
I find that very few people consider themselves evil. Of those that do, most of them only half-heartedly say it (like people who download pirated music). I'm sure that Dr. King didn't think he was evil. I bet Adolf Hitler didn't think he was evil either. People who want to create a new establishment generally want to do it for a reason. They think they have the best idea ever, and they believe it enough to fight for it.
The only people who call themselves evil and truly mean it tend to be psychopaths and sociopaths. They are the people who commit a crime just to commit a crime. They aren't trying to build a new order, only destroy the current one. They are agents of chaos. I would agree that they are true evil, and yet, I hesitate to use that term, because I think that agents of chaos is far more accurate and descriptive.
Of course, when it comes down to brass tacks, it's all about the gray areas. Defending the status quo is good when it is positive and helps people. Creating a new status quo is good when the current one is destructive and harmful to people. Destroying things just to see them crumble is so wrong that the people who do it are considered more animal than man.
This doesn't have too much to do with the writing process, but it's a decent critique of character attributes. Every dogooder is boring until they get a streak of evil. Every villain is boring until they have a soft spot for something (or someone). Once you find out how your character can have that internal conflict, the story will write itself.
When I think of good and evil, especially when paired together, I can't help but think of super heroes. Most people will acknowledge Superman as good, so what does he do that deserves the title? One explanation is that he defends truth, justice, and the American Way. Of course, since truth and justice are part of the American Way (in theory), we can just stick with the latter term.
If Superman defends the American Way, then his opponents must be trying to destroy the American Way. In that case, "good" is the American Way and "evil" is anything that isn't the American Way. However, there are super heroes other countries who are considered good by those people, but do not defend the American Way. So what we are left with is that "good" is defending the status quo (or the establishment) and evil is trying to destroy that establishment.
With these rather broad definitions, a number of people can be put into categories we might never think of. Al Capone could be considered a hero because he defended the American establishment of drinking. Martin Luther King Jr. would be evil because he tried to destroy hundreds of years of established racism. In case you couldn't tell at this point, I am not arguing these things. No hate mail, please (at least not for this part).
I find that very few people consider themselves evil. Of those that do, most of them only half-heartedly say it (like people who download pirated music). I'm sure that Dr. King didn't think he was evil. I bet Adolf Hitler didn't think he was evil either. People who want to create a new establishment generally want to do it for a reason. They think they have the best idea ever, and they believe it enough to fight for it.
The only people who call themselves evil and truly mean it tend to be psychopaths and sociopaths. They are the people who commit a crime just to commit a crime. They aren't trying to build a new order, only destroy the current one. They are agents of chaos. I would agree that they are true evil, and yet, I hesitate to use that term, because I think that agents of chaos is far more accurate and descriptive.
Of course, when it comes down to brass tacks, it's all about the gray areas. Defending the status quo is good when it is positive and helps people. Creating a new status quo is good when the current one is destructive and harmful to people. Destroying things just to see them crumble is so wrong that the people who do it are considered more animal than man.
This doesn't have too much to do with the writing process, but it's a decent critique of character attributes. Every dogooder is boring until they get a streak of evil. Every villain is boring until they have a soft spot for something (or someone). Once you find out how your character can have that internal conflict, the story will write itself.
Fame
Fame is a strange status to me. I'm sure it is for most people, but I can't read most people's minds, so I will stick with my own thoughts.
I've never really wanted to be famous. I somehow learned early on that fame comes with a very high price (loss of privacy, for one). As a person who likes his anonymity, the prospect of being followed by people I don't even know is disturbing and creepy. However, as a person who loves having his ego stroked, the idea of being praised by large amounts of people for work that I truly care about sounds pretty nice. It's just a very fine line between those two levels, though.
I've always been perfectly happy to do a job, do it well, and live comfortably, whether or not anybody knows who I am. And yet, I chose a field that requires me to be famous in order to be successful at all. Webcomics put writers as close with their audiences as possible. As great as it is to have instant feedback, it also means that we have to build a connection with them. In order to get them coming back, to get them to care about the comic enough to want to visit us at a convention and buy our merchandice, we have to get them to care about us. Since our comics are extensions of ourselves, it is understandable that this connection needs to be made, but the prospect still scares me some.
Overall, I get the impression that the communities (both of crators and fans) are extremely kind and that nobody is so famous that they will make it into supermarket tabloids. I suspect that the fame I can get from comicking will be just the right amount for me. I certainly hope so, but there is only one way to find out.
I've never really wanted to be famous. I somehow learned early on that fame comes with a very high price (loss of privacy, for one). As a person who likes his anonymity, the prospect of being followed by people I don't even know is disturbing and creepy. However, as a person who loves having his ego stroked, the idea of being praised by large amounts of people for work that I truly care about sounds pretty nice. It's just a very fine line between those two levels, though.
I've always been perfectly happy to do a job, do it well, and live comfortably, whether or not anybody knows who I am. And yet, I chose a field that requires me to be famous in order to be successful at all. Webcomics put writers as close with their audiences as possible. As great as it is to have instant feedback, it also means that we have to build a connection with them. In order to get them coming back, to get them to care about the comic enough to want to visit us at a convention and buy our merchandice, we have to get them to care about us. Since our comics are extensions of ourselves, it is understandable that this connection needs to be made, but the prospect still scares me some.
Overall, I get the impression that the communities (both of crators and fans) are extremely kind and that nobody is so famous that they will make it into supermarket tabloids. I suspect that the fame I can get from comicking will be just the right amount for me. I certainly hope so, but there is only one way to find out.
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