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The Medium and the Message |
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Written by Elizabeth Genco
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Tuesday, 09 August 2005 |
You say you’re writing comics, but are you really writing comics? What does your chosen medium have to offer? Use it!
So, if you're reading this column, and if you're anything like me, your nose is constantly to the writing grindstone. You get new ideas all the time. You know that an idea is not a story, so you make time to write every day. You finish things. You make it your business to learn the craft of writing. You read writing books, maybe you've taken a class. You read a lot. You have other people look over your stuff and give you feedback. You've even taken the time to bone up on grammar and punctuation, by God.
Yes, you've been working hard for a while now. While not full, your writing toolbox rattles encouragingly. Your confidence slowly builds. Huzzah!
Friendly reminder: have you packed the tools of your medium?
[I ask a lot of questions in these columns, I know. Trust me, I ask myself the same questions.]
Have you ever read a comic book and thought that it would have made a good screenplay? I'm not talking about something that's so cool that you can't help but long to see it on the big screen. Nor am I talking about that obnoxious practice of recycling screenplays as comics. I'm talking about something that just plain would have worked better as a screenplay. Or how about comics that would have made good novels? Books where 80% of the action consists of a detective going from crime scene to crime scene comes to mind (Leland calls these "guys in suits" comics). So do the books where most of the action takes place at a table in a diner. Or in a car, with the two leads sitting there talking.
Then there are the graphic novels that call themselves "movies on paper". That'd be all well and good, were it not for one small problem: comics aren't movies. (Another problem: I've noticed that the comics-as-movies slip quite easily into the horror that is decompressed storytelling. I could rant, but I won't. At least not right now.)
Time to pose the question again, with a bit less diplomacy. Have you ever read a comic book and wondered why the creator(s) bothered to make it as a comic?
The strength of the story is not at issue, here. There are lots of tightly written, compelling stories that consist of things like guys in suits (not the superhero kind, mind) or people having heart-to-hearts in cars. I'm just not convinced that they should be comic books.
If you're not going to use any comics-specific motifs or constructs, why write your story as a comic?
I'm not trying to be obnoxious. These are the things I ponder with sincerity. Thankfully, sincerely pondered usually gives way to lesson learned; such it is with medium. When considering the concept, consider the best medium, too. Not only that, take the time to learn the tools of your chosen medium, so that you can make the best use of them.
Let's take comics, as an example. As it happens to be my medium of choice at the moment, I've done some thinking about it.
What makes a comic a comic? For an in-depth discussion of this somewhat existential question, you can turn to Scott McCloud's classic, UNDERSTANDING COMICS. For the purposes of this discussion, though, we all pretty much know what a comic is: words and pictures which come together to tell a story.
I know I'm about to open up a huge can of worms with this next bit; it's never-ending debate better left to message boards. Please try to remember that this columns is, ultimately, my opinion on using mediums to tell my stories. Yours are, well, yours.
For me, "words + pictures == story" means that you can't have one without the other. They combine to make a distinct whole, a new thing. If you're not quite using the pictures to do something that words cannot, or not using the words to do something that the pictures cannot, you're not really using the medium to its full potential. Comics made up primarily of panels with captioned narration describing the picture aren't the kinds of comics I want to write. Why? Because I might as well stick to prose. Similarly, I don't need a book full of pictures of two people bickering under a light bulb. I might as well just write the dialogue and call it a day.
[Of course, a dramatized conversation gains richness from the nuances of response and expression of the participants. The right kinds of pictures can capture these and bring that depth to your scene. Okay. So, that might be enough for you. It is not enough for me.]
If I've decided to use pictures on paper to tell my story, then it behooves me to learn the vocabulary of pictures on pager, then use it to my full advantage. Instead of illustrating words with the pictures, I can get my reader involved by selecting shots that demand that she infer what's going on between panels (that's montage theory, in a nutshell; you can read more about it here). I can use the pictures to play with time and space in ways that would be impossible in other mediums. I could control the pacing of a story in ways that film never could. I have much greater control over the rendering of the characters, too, since I rely on only myself and an artist to bring them to life, not a casting director and an actor.
Yes, I've heard it said more than once from professional comics writers that they love comics because it allows them to go from idea-in-head to finished concept with the least amount of interference. And here I am, diggin' it. What a coincidence!
Lastly, did you notice that my link to further montage theory reading takes you to a page on the writings of Eisenstein, a Russian silent film director of the 20's? This talk of medium is not to say that the tools of one can't be applied to others. I write plenty of prose fiction in addition to comics. One of my personal practices is to read and write poetry, believe it or not. (No, I'm not going to make you suffer through any of that, never fear.) Why? Well, it's good stuff, for one thing, and I love language, for another. But more importantly, I try my hand at poetry because that practice teaches me about things like metaphor, imagery and economy -- all of which make for better prose (and comics, for that matter). Poetry is chock full of good tools for any kind of writer.
I don't know about you, but I want all the tools that I can get my hands on.
Administrivia note: I'll be taking a short break from the column, in order to finish up some freelance work and SPX preparations. THE CRAFT shall resume on Sept. 6.
Elizabeth Genco builds stories in Brooklyn, New York. Though she occasionally writes an award-winning zine about her experiences as a street musician, these days she focuses almost entirely on writing comics, with a little new age freelance thrown in. Her comics can be found in STYX TAXI: A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC and this year's SMUT PEDDLER from Saucy Goose Press.
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