That's right, Furious Reader: it's that time again. Time for Rick's Tips for Comic Book Creators. Below are some thoughts I've scraped together over the years I've been slugging away at this whole comics thing:
1. Draw, you fool.
Feeling guilty that you drew something unrelated to your comic? That's because you're stuck in "comics rut". Break out. Draw whatever you want. Draw something abstract, something weird, something normal, something everyday. Do some life-drawings of your attractive friends, or better yet, your unattractive friends. Draw outside, draw inside. Sketch the DMV. Doodle in the margins of legal documents (birth certificates are a particular favorite). Draw with paint: this revolutionary new concept is called, "painting". Sculpt something; it ain't drawing, but who cares? Make music, animate, write, read. But most of all draw.
The sketchbook is the single most cobwebbed tool in any comic book creators' arsenal. Part of what makes their sketchbooks tedious is that, surprise surprise, they're full of comics - comic book characters, kawaii cat-eared Anime cuties, massively-muscled monsters...usually floating in space. They barely draw anything else, if they draw at all. A sketchbook is useful as a workbook, sure; but it's even better as a playground, where other creative muscles can be flexed.
I think part of the problem is that comic book creators get into "portfolio" mode: their sketchbook is what they show their favorite comic book artist at the con, so they want to draw to impress. Unless you're a shoo-in for DC's Next Big Artist, I wouldn't worry about that. Even if you do want to show your sketchbook to a very jet-lagged artist, what do you think they want to see? 130 Phases of Batman? A Spiderman fashion show with 32 different costumes? They'd probably be more fascinated by your stoned doodles of the carpeting, or Seussian trees full of uncomfortable birds, or that very intensely-drawn clock tower downtown after five cups of Cappuccino. In other words, show them something different. Even if you wanted to be cog in the Marvel/DC machine, talent scouts want to see greater flexibility in your art...even if you'll just be cranking out Spidermans till kingdom come.
So do one thing for me: buy or make a sketchbook, and then fill it from cover to cover. It doesn't matter with what - just draw, for Pete's sake.
2. Don't freak out about a daily schedule.
I know, I know...creation requires discipline, writers should work at least an hour a day on their writing, artists should art all the time, blah blah blah Remember, this is work. Unless you live in a hippie Utopia, you can't just go to work whenever you feel like it! Schnell, schnell! Arbeit mach Frei!!!
I've always been a bit skeptical of this "keep a strict schedule" thing. I find that the schedule itself, and the keeping thereof, creates far more anxiety than the project ever did. The only reason I'd sit down and create a strict schedule for myself is if I'm swamped: by prioritizing, I divide the day's workload into manageable chunks. Schedules are also great if you're just starting out as an artist, and really need to sit down and focus. But I've come far enough along that I've absorbed a certain amount of work ethic, and making a whole structure around my artistic output tends to become cramped an annoying after a bit.
What I've found is this: I naturally work steady for one hour, then need a break. Breaks seem to last for several hours, but in fact they're usually only about 15 minutes to half an hour long...it's the whole "office" anxiety that makes breaks seem longer than they actually are. After a break, I can go back to drawing for another hour. In total, on a weekday, I can work for about 4 hours this way before I need to stop for the day (and this with a full-time job). This is lovely if I've found a good groove, but if I'm stuck, those four hours drain away quickly, and I have little to show for it.
It helps me to have two or three projects going at once: one I have to do (i.e., paid projects); one I need to do (in-house projects); and one I want to do (fiddle-farting around). Essentially, my daily schedule would look like this: 1 hour to eat; 1 hour enforced work on paid projects; 1 hour on my "fun" project; 1 hour on my in-house project; 0.5-1 hour relaxation. Wash, rinse, repeat until bed, typically around 11pm.
What doesn't help is to have a written, strictly-enforced schedule that I burn myself out trying to follow. A week of schedule-watching means three days of procrastination. It happens every time. I think of it in terms of "conservation of motivational energy", in that the more energy you spend motivating yourself to keep a schedule, the less motivated you are to keep doing the project. And then of course there's "schedule guilt", which saps what little motivation you had left. You end up avoiding your project for weeks, simply because of all the negative associations.
So here's the upshot: be kind to yourself. Obviously if you're a notorious slacker, you need to work hard to build that work discipline; but make sure to keep things loosey-goosey and relax. And if you take two weeks off your project? Don't beat yourself up about it. Motivation is a muscle that gets a little stronger every time you return to exercising.
3. Read Comics.
This is an often-neglected aspect of the comic-making process. Sometimes it's just forgetfulness - if I'm too busy making comics, it's hard to remember to read comics. But there's also an aspect of, "This is my work! I don't want any outside influences!"
First of all: cut the crap. Your extra-special oh-so-unique comic is all outside influences, whether you like it or not. Secondly, it's healthy to get outside your head once in a while and see what other artists have done, or how they've handled a particular scene or layout. But most of all, simply by reading comics for enjoyment, you give your forebrain a break and allow your midbrain to process the comic book experience on an unconscious level.
Working on Die Kätze III, I found myself just plowing along, making joyless panels without much forethought - just trying to get it done. I took a break and read Zero Girl: Full Circle by Sam Keith. Something about Keith's amorphous characters and spattery, ink-drenched pages (he never saw a panel layout he couldn't break) flipped a switch in my brain. Now, I'm not saying I'm suddenly able to draw like Keith; but absorbing his style and manner of breaking panel borders certainly helped reset the rut I was in.
Speaking of absorbing: I find if I view a strong, idiosyncratic artist for any length of time - Moebius, for example - elements of his work begin to show up in my art. It's like the Strong Personality Phenomenon, where everyone in the room mirrors the vocal tics, expressions, and personality traits of the most charismatic person in the room, whether they like it or not. I don't think this is a bad thing (at least in art terms); so long as you're comfortable enough with your own art, emulating another artist will only strengthen your own style. And if you're trying to draw a comic in a certain style, it can't hurt to read other comics that exhibit that style.
The key word here, of course, is enjoyment. Reading a comic merely for its style can become like homework, especially if the writing and story are terrible. The absorption of other art styles really only works if you actually like the comic you're reading. On the flip side of that, if all you're reading is Batman, it may be time to branch out and try something weird or new - something outside your comfort zone. Who knows? You might end up liking it.
I'll keep thinking up more wonderful life-changing tips for comic book creators in my huge and amazing brain; meanwhile I've got to get back to working on those comics...
Rick Out.
1. Draw, you fool.
Feeling guilty that you drew something unrelated to your comic? That's because you're stuck in "comics rut". Break out. Draw whatever you want. Draw something abstract, something weird, something normal, something everyday. Do some life-drawings of your attractive friends, or better yet, your unattractive friends. Draw outside, draw inside. Sketch the DMV. Doodle in the margins of legal documents (birth certificates are a particular favorite). Draw with paint: this revolutionary new concept is called, "painting". Sculpt something; it ain't drawing, but who cares? Make music, animate, write, read. But most of all draw.
The sketchbook is the single most cobwebbed tool in any comic book creators' arsenal. Part of what makes their sketchbooks tedious is that, surprise surprise, they're full of comics - comic book characters, kawaii cat-eared Anime cuties, massively-muscled monsters...usually floating in space. They barely draw anything else, if they draw at all. A sketchbook is useful as a workbook, sure; but it's even better as a playground, where other creative muscles can be flexed.
I think part of the problem is that comic book creators get into "portfolio" mode: their sketchbook is what they show their favorite comic book artist at the con, so they want to draw to impress. Unless you're a shoo-in for DC's Next Big Artist, I wouldn't worry about that. Even if you do want to show your sketchbook to a very jet-lagged artist, what do you think they want to see? 130 Phases of Batman? A Spiderman fashion show with 32 different costumes? They'd probably be more fascinated by your stoned doodles of the carpeting, or Seussian trees full of uncomfortable birds, or that very intensely-drawn clock tower downtown after five cups of Cappuccino. In other words, show them something different. Even if you wanted to be cog in the Marvel/DC machine, talent scouts want to see greater flexibility in your art...even if you'll just be cranking out Spidermans till kingdom come.
So do one thing for me: buy or make a sketchbook, and then fill it from cover to cover. It doesn't matter with what - just draw, for Pete's sake.
2. Don't freak out about a daily schedule.
I know, I know...creation requires discipline, writers should work at least an hour a day on their writing, artists should art all the time, blah blah blah Remember, this is work. Unless you live in a hippie Utopia, you can't just go to work whenever you feel like it! Schnell, schnell! Arbeit mach Frei!!!
I've always been a bit skeptical of this "keep a strict schedule" thing. I find that the schedule itself, and the keeping thereof, creates far more anxiety than the project ever did. The only reason I'd sit down and create a strict schedule for myself is if I'm swamped: by prioritizing, I divide the day's workload into manageable chunks. Schedules are also great if you're just starting out as an artist, and really need to sit down and focus. But I've come far enough along that I've absorbed a certain amount of work ethic, and making a whole structure around my artistic output tends to become cramped an annoying after a bit.
What I've found is this: I naturally work steady for one hour, then need a break. Breaks seem to last for several hours, but in fact they're usually only about 15 minutes to half an hour long...it's the whole "office" anxiety that makes breaks seem longer than they actually are. After a break, I can go back to drawing for another hour. In total, on a weekday, I can work for about 4 hours this way before I need to stop for the day (and this with a full-time job). This is lovely if I've found a good groove, but if I'm stuck, those four hours drain away quickly, and I have little to show for it.
It helps me to have two or three projects going at once: one I have to do (i.e., paid projects); one I need to do (in-house projects); and one I want to do (fiddle-farting around). Essentially, my daily schedule would look like this: 1 hour to eat; 1 hour enforced work on paid projects; 1 hour on my "fun" project; 1 hour on my in-house project; 0.5-1 hour relaxation. Wash, rinse, repeat until bed, typically around 11pm.
What doesn't help is to have a written, strictly-enforced schedule that I burn myself out trying to follow. A week of schedule-watching means three days of procrastination. It happens every time. I think of it in terms of "conservation of motivational energy", in that the more energy you spend motivating yourself to keep a schedule, the less motivated you are to keep doing the project. And then of course there's "schedule guilt", which saps what little motivation you had left. You end up avoiding your project for weeks, simply because of all the negative associations.
So here's the upshot: be kind to yourself. Obviously if you're a notorious slacker, you need to work hard to build that work discipline; but make sure to keep things loosey-goosey and relax. And if you take two weeks off your project? Don't beat yourself up about it. Motivation is a muscle that gets a little stronger every time you return to exercising.
3. Read Comics.
This is an often-neglected aspect of the comic-making process. Sometimes it's just forgetfulness - if I'm too busy making comics, it's hard to remember to read comics. But there's also an aspect of, "This is my work! I don't want any outside influences!"
First of all: cut the crap. Your extra-special oh-so-unique comic is all outside influences, whether you like it or not. Secondly, it's healthy to get outside your head once in a while and see what other artists have done, or how they've handled a particular scene or layout. But most of all, simply by reading comics for enjoyment, you give your forebrain a break and allow your midbrain to process the comic book experience on an unconscious level.
Working on Die Kätze III, I found myself just plowing along, making joyless panels without much forethought - just trying to get it done. I took a break and read Zero Girl: Full Circle by Sam Keith. Something about Keith's amorphous characters and spattery, ink-drenched pages (he never saw a panel layout he couldn't break) flipped a switch in my brain. Now, I'm not saying I'm suddenly able to draw like Keith; but absorbing his style and manner of breaking panel borders certainly helped reset the rut I was in.
Speaking of absorbing: I find if I view a strong, idiosyncratic artist for any length of time - Moebius, for example - elements of his work begin to show up in my art. It's like the Strong Personality Phenomenon, where everyone in the room mirrors the vocal tics, expressions, and personality traits of the most charismatic person in the room, whether they like it or not. I don't think this is a bad thing (at least in art terms); so long as you're comfortable enough with your own art, emulating another artist will only strengthen your own style. And if you're trying to draw a comic in a certain style, it can't hurt to read other comics that exhibit that style.
The key word here, of course, is enjoyment. Reading a comic merely for its style can become like homework, especially if the writing and story are terrible. The absorption of other art styles really only works if you actually like the comic you're reading. On the flip side of that, if all you're reading is Batman, it may be time to branch out and try something weird or new - something outside your comfort zone. Who knows? You might end up liking it.
I'll keep thinking up more wonderful life-changing tips for comic book creators in my huge and amazing brain; meanwhile I've got to get back to working on those comics...
Rick Out.
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