The above title, plus a few expletives, formed the content of my primal shriek of triumph and exhaustion as I put the last godforsaken line in the last godforsaken panel on the last godforsaken page of that 126-page, one-ton albatross that's been hanging around my neck for three years like a millstone, dragging me down into that stinking, fetid mire called, "I'll-Finish-It-Tomorrow", where I would be sucked dry by the Leeches of Procrastination and then cored out by the filthy maggots of Despair-Of-Ever-Finishing. I flipped through each page, giggling maniacally, my worn-to-the-bone fingers unfeeling against the plastic, reliving the agony over every line in ink, marker, and ballpoint pen, feeling the blinding sting of every glaring mistake and oversight, mind shot through with every newly-discovered plot-hole. As "O Fortuna" reached its earthshaking choral crescendo, I found myself staring at a certain point in the story, where there seemed to be - dared I think it? - too broad of a gap, too great a jump in transition...the bottom fell out of my world...I stared in mute horror...my saliva-dripping lip trembled as a moan rose, unbidden, from the depths of my withered belly:
I would need two more pages.
All right, all right - it wasn't that melodramatic. But still, it's finished, and I'm happy and relieved and completely burned-out. I promised Jay Jacot a five-pager before I left for camp, but I don't think I'll be able to deliver.
If you don't know anything about Squidgods, I suppose now would be the time to fill you in. Let me say, first-off, that this is not a conventionally-made comic - Bristol board, and all that - and indeed, could not possibly be made conventionally. At 126 pages, I would go broke just trying to gather all the Bristol board and ink necessary for the job.
Instead, it is what I refer to as a "Binder Comic". A BC is, essentially, a comic in a ring binder, usually written on 8.5" x 11" printer-paper (nothing too expensive) set back-to back in plastic sleeves. The usual medium is technical pen, although Sharpies and Bic ballpoints will work just as well. The materials are cheap, the means are always available, and the comic itself is eminently transportable - you can work on it anywhere, at any time. As you can probably guess, this style of comic is the best for those just starting out in comics. My first comic was a Binder Comic, one Matt Darkk and the Home Alien Control, completed while I was serving time at Howell High School. Binder Comics allow for a great deal of experimental freedom on the part of the artist, due to cost - one can throw out an 8.5" x 11" page much more comfortably than a 14" x 17" piece of Bristol board.
One disadvantage of Binder Comics is that, as a rule, they are never well-planned. This has been my experience through both of Matt Darkk and Squidgods. I'm not sure if it was impatience, hubris, or simply lack of experience (probably all three), but in both cases you'd be hard-pressed to find a single thumbnail panel sketch whatsoever. This was fun at first - sort of a sequential-art improv session - but about twenty pages in, you start to look back over your work, and realize (with a cold shiver up your spine) that you have no idea where you're going with this.
You set it aside. A month later, another part of the story comes to you. You draw it out. You realize you have no transition between your first few pages and this next sequence. You set it aside...wash, rinse, repeat...wash, rinse, repeat. Before you know it, you're three years in, and down to the last twenty pages, desperately trying to reconcile all the plot threads. You'll end up like me, walking around with Squidgods around my neck, even as I worked on other projects, dreading the fact that, sooner or later, I would have to sit my ass down and force myself to finish it.
"So Rick," you ask me. "I'm just starting out in comics - no prior experience. I think I'll make one of these "Binder Comics". Should I sit down and just start planning it out, like you said?"
My answer would be, well...yes and no.
If you have little prior experience making comics (or if you're like me, and hardly even read comics as a kid), sitting down and trying to plan out a comic is a daunting task. Sequential art is something that's hard to pick up from a book; you have to have someone work through the process with you until you develop the "feel" of it. Planning things out page-by-page, therefore, may not be the best first step - you'll get intimidated quickly, and drop the project.
By the same token, if you just start drawing, with no planning, you'll do about five or ten pages, and then boredom will set in. When the story wanders, the creator's attention wanders.
I propose a middle path, neither too much planning, nor too little: first, go through the motions of creating a story: plot, characters, setting, etc. - do a lot of sketches. Second, grab yourself an old DC comic (one with as many panels as possible) and copy the panel layouts. This will give you a template in which to work, where you won't have to worry about making your own panels. The third step is to simply start filling the panels with pictures in pencil, with as little self-editing as possible. This is important, especially if you have no prior experience with comics; second-guessing will only cause you to freeze up. If you run out of panels, by golly, copy yourself another page! It doesn't make a difference. Just fill the panels with pictures and words.
Once you're done with this, take a look at it, make any corrections you see fit, and then hand it off to an articulate sibling. Ask them if it makes sense. Don't try to explain the story - if they can't figure it out from the pictures and words, it's probably the comic's fault, not theirs. Then write down their assessment, go back, and make corrections as necessary. The very, very last step is the inking - use whatever inking material you feel comfortable with (it doesn't have to be fancy or expensive - ballpoint works great). When this is done, add color (color pencils are best, as it won't make the ink bleed and leaves no residue), stick it in perforated plastic sleeves, stick the sleeves in a binder, put a title on the binder, and Presto! - you've just made a binder comic. If you get a big enough binder, you can put in two or more comics in one binder, saving space and money.
So there you have it, folks - advice from the guy who knows. As you finish digesting these tasty morsels of knowledge, I think I'll go get a beer, sit down in front of the television, and zone out. Maybe the full monumental force of the accomplishment will hit me later, but for now I just feel like my brain is swelling up. Comics takes a lot out of you.
Rick Out.
I would need two more pages.
All right, all right - it wasn't that melodramatic. But still, it's finished, and I'm happy and relieved and completely burned-out. I promised Jay Jacot a five-pager before I left for camp, but I don't think I'll be able to deliver.
If you don't know anything about Squidgods, I suppose now would be the time to fill you in. Let me say, first-off, that this is not a conventionally-made comic - Bristol board, and all that - and indeed, could not possibly be made conventionally. At 126 pages, I would go broke just trying to gather all the Bristol board and ink necessary for the job.
Instead, it is what I refer to as a "Binder Comic". A BC is, essentially, a comic in a ring binder, usually written on 8.5" x 11" printer-paper (nothing too expensive) set back-to back in plastic sleeves. The usual medium is technical pen, although Sharpies and Bic ballpoints will work just as well. The materials are cheap, the means are always available, and the comic itself is eminently transportable - you can work on it anywhere, at any time. As you can probably guess, this style of comic is the best for those just starting out in comics. My first comic was a Binder Comic, one Matt Darkk and the Home Alien Control, completed while I was serving time at Howell High School. Binder Comics allow for a great deal of experimental freedom on the part of the artist, due to cost - one can throw out an 8.5" x 11" page much more comfortably than a 14" x 17" piece of Bristol board.
One disadvantage of Binder Comics is that, as a rule, they are never well-planned. This has been my experience through both of Matt Darkk and Squidgods. I'm not sure if it was impatience, hubris, or simply lack of experience (probably all three), but in both cases you'd be hard-pressed to find a single thumbnail panel sketch whatsoever. This was fun at first - sort of a sequential-art improv session - but about twenty pages in, you start to look back over your work, and realize (with a cold shiver up your spine) that you have no idea where you're going with this.
You set it aside. A month later, another part of the story comes to you. You draw it out. You realize you have no transition between your first few pages and this next sequence. You set it aside...wash, rinse, repeat...wash, rinse, repeat. Before you know it, you're three years in, and down to the last twenty pages, desperately trying to reconcile all the plot threads. You'll end up like me, walking around with Squidgods around my neck, even as I worked on other projects, dreading the fact that, sooner or later, I would have to sit my ass down and force myself to finish it.
"So Rick," you ask me. "I'm just starting out in comics - no prior experience. I think I'll make one of these "Binder Comics". Should I sit down and just start planning it out, like you said?"
My answer would be, well...yes and no.
If you have little prior experience making comics (or if you're like me, and hardly even read comics as a kid), sitting down and trying to plan out a comic is a daunting task. Sequential art is something that's hard to pick up from a book; you have to have someone work through the process with you until you develop the "feel" of it. Planning things out page-by-page, therefore, may not be the best first step - you'll get intimidated quickly, and drop the project.
By the same token, if you just start drawing, with no planning, you'll do about five or ten pages, and then boredom will set in. When the story wanders, the creator's attention wanders.
I propose a middle path, neither too much planning, nor too little: first, go through the motions of creating a story: plot, characters, setting, etc. - do a lot of sketches. Second, grab yourself an old DC comic (one with as many panels as possible) and copy the panel layouts. This will give you a template in which to work, where you won't have to worry about making your own panels. The third step is to simply start filling the panels with pictures in pencil, with as little self-editing as possible. This is important, especially if you have no prior experience with comics; second-guessing will only cause you to freeze up. If you run out of panels, by golly, copy yourself another page! It doesn't make a difference. Just fill the panels with pictures and words.
Once you're done with this, take a look at it, make any corrections you see fit, and then hand it off to an articulate sibling. Ask them if it makes sense. Don't try to explain the story - if they can't figure it out from the pictures and words, it's probably the comic's fault, not theirs. Then write down their assessment, go back, and make corrections as necessary. The very, very last step is the inking - use whatever inking material you feel comfortable with (it doesn't have to be fancy or expensive - ballpoint works great). When this is done, add color (color pencils are best, as it won't make the ink bleed and leaves no residue), stick it in perforated plastic sleeves, stick the sleeves in a binder, put a title on the binder, and Presto! - you've just made a binder comic. If you get a big enough binder, you can put in two or more comics in one binder, saving space and money.
So there you have it, folks - advice from the guy who knows. As you finish digesting these tasty morsels of knowledge, I think I'll go get a beer, sit down in front of the television, and zone out. Maybe the full monumental force of the accomplishment will hit me later, but for now I just feel like my brain is swelling up. Comics takes a lot out of you.
Rick Out.
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