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The Horror! The Horror! The Gimmicks! |
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Written by Drew Melbourne
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Sunday, 10 December 2006 |
Here's another lesson that I learned from writing ArchEnemies:
Do not surprise your audience. Audiences do not like to be surprised.
Don't get me wrong. Audiences enjoy a good third act plot twist. They like to be startled and shocked. And they love walking into a movie theater or turning on a TV or cracking open a comic only to discover that "Wow, this doesn't suck nearly as badly as I thought it would."
But real surprises? Non-non-surprise surprises?
If a man lays down three bucks fifty for a tuna on rye, you don't serve him three out-of-work Bavarian tap dancers who need to crash at his apartment for a week.
The man would be upset. And cramped.
Things that you market as funny should be funny. Things that you market as sad should be sad. And so on.
If a reader picks up a comic that he thinks is going to be a light comedy only to find out that it's a bleak character study told through a fragmented flashback narrative? Odds are, he's going to be disappointed.
It doesn't matter if they're the best Bavarian tap dancers in all of... let's say... Bavaria. They're in your bathroom, and they're bogarting all of your hot water, and at this rate you are totally going to be late for work.
Not fun.
With ArchEnemies, I did my best to present the story as multi-faceted. In interviews and on the official website, I described the series as “high-concept superhero action comedy drama.” I tried to prepare my readers. As the cliché goes, I wanted them to expect the unexpected. I didn’t want them to be surprised by the surprises.
Even so, there are a percentage of ArchEnemies readers who were disappointed, because they didn't get what they expected. Why?
ArchEnemies has a clever high-concept. And, let's be honest: Without that clever high-concept, it probably never would have gotten published. And you wouldn't have read it. And no one from Hollywood would have been interested in the film rights.
High-concepts are great marketing tools. Audiences hear a clever idea, and they're immediately intrigued. (Good.) They start playing through the concept in their heads. (Good.) They become engaged with the idea. (Good.) They become attached to it. (Good.) And they begin to form expectations. (Good.)
Expectations are great things to meet and exceed. They are not great things to confound or ignore. And if your story has a compelling high-concept, every member of your audience is going to come to your comics with their own unique expectations. Someone is bound to get confounded. Someone is bound to feel ignored.
Maybe many someones.
So what's the secret? How do you present your heartbreakingly original ideas in such a way that they are embraced rather than rejected?
Step One: Be sure that the Bavarian tap-dancers are described clearly on the menu. And use a really big font.
Why this column, this week? Well, it all ties back to last week's installment where I introduced you to Hellbent, my new horror-comic-in-progress.
Because I'm wondering if, on reflection, Hellbent really is a horror story at all. And if it isn't, it needs to say so on my menu in the biggest typeface available.
What makes a horror story a horror story? Well, first and foremost, it has to scare you or unsettle your or... you know... horrify you. It has to play on your fears in some compelling way. (Or, at the very least, in a non-compelling way that reminds you of a better movie that you saw last year.)
Based on absolutely nothing, I imagine that the earliest horror stories came in two varieties:
First, there were the horror stories that used fear as a tool. "Don't venture into the woods alone, or you'll be devoured by monsters." These stories were told to the young and the naive to keep them out of trouble, and to the lowly to keep them feeling powerless.
Second, there were the stories that used fear as entertainment. "The monster still haunts these woods. In fact, he could be right behind you RIGHT NOW!" Fear is a rush. And if we can experience the rush without the danger, fear can be a lot of fun.
These forms survive today: Horror story as cautionary tale. Horror story as thrill ride. But there is a third form that I'm far more interested in - a form in which horror is not a method or a means, but an object of exploration.
The best horror stories examine the true nature of our fears. "The old man is haunted by the ghost of his departed wife." These stories help us to understand, embrace, and overcome our fears, and elements of horror and the supernaturla become metaphors for real human experience.
Does Hellbent meet that standard? Does Hellbent work as a horror story?
Frankly, I'm not sure. There are supernatural elements at work, certainly. There's a creepy devil-figure who plays a central role in the story. And there are definitely some scary/shocking/horrific moments throughout.
But most of the story is very grounded. Most of the conflicts are heightened but essentially real world conflicts. And my goal is less to scare you than to expose the hidden depravities and paradoxical beauties of the human spirit. (Which sounded less pretentious in my head.)
Maybe Hellbent is a horror story. Maybe it's just a dark supernatural drama. And maybe it's something else that I haven't come up with a name for yet. Once I have that figured out, I'll be sure to let you all know in 256 pt. type.
In the meantime, you can give some thought to the stories you're writing: How do you classify them? Are you setting the right expectations for your work? And how can understanding the intent of your writing help you to make your stories clearer and stronger?
And because you've all been very good and patient readers this week, let me end on something a bit less dreary and self-doubty: GIMMICKS!
Who doesn't love a good gimmick? Okay, they nearly killed the comic book industry in the mid-90s, but that was over a decade ago! Who didn't do things that they regret back then? So let's give gimmicks a second chance.
Now, when most of you think gimmicks, you probably think variant covers. Or chromium covers. Or die-cut covers. Or hologram covers. Or glow-in-the-dark covers. Or all-black covers. Or sketch covers. Or pop-up covers. Or scratch-and-sniff covers. Or whatever.
With ArchEnemies, I used each cover as the first page of the story. Not as flashy as a "lenticular animation" cover, but it's still a gimmick. Something to draw attention to my comic and to distinguish it from other comic books on the stands.
Not so long ago, Zoom Suit #1 sold over 20,000 copies, largely because of its aggressive use of variant covers and a special metallic ink they utilized in the printing process throughout the issue. Gimmicky? Of course. But the metallic ink helped to give the comic (and its armored hero) a distinctive look. It may not have been integral to the story, but it definitely made for a more visually-appealing read.
That said, the best gimmicks are integral. In fact, they're so integral, you might not even think of them as gimmicks at all. For instance, Frank Miller's use of black and white and selective color in Sin City is a gimmick. Likewise, the 9-panel grid used in Warren Ellis' Fell and elsewhere is a gimmick.
A well-conceived gimmick twists the conventions of comic book storytelling in some distinctive way, so as to reinforce the themes and content of the story.
Right now, I'm considering a number of such gimmicks for Hellbent. I expect at least one or two of them to be included in the final production of the series. They are:
Most of the story will be told with the comic turned sideways. Why? Well, imagine turning a comic sideways and reading it that way. How would it feel? Unnatural? A little bit uncomfortable? Maybe it reminds you of opening to the centerfold in an adult magazine? If so, that's great. Your reading experience will reinforce the tone of the story. And if not? Well, it still offers up certain other storytelling opportunities. Such as...
I don't have a link to the precise column, but in a recent installment of his CBR column, Permanent Damage, Steven Grant commented that long, thin panels remind him of the experience of looking through a keyhole. That struck me as an interesting idea that translates particularly well to a sideways page. So-called "widescreen storytelling" gets turned on its side to become "tallscreen." Again, an unusual layout will help to reinforce the somewhat alienating tone of the story.
The devil-figure in Hellbent is "a blood-red man behind a blood-red door." That color is going to be very important to the story, so I'm only going to use the color red in specific relation to this devil-figure. This will increase the contrast between him and all the other elements of the story.
While I'd love to print the entire series on newsprint - to help reinforce the somewhat seedy, pulpish-quality of the material - I've been told that newsprint is actually more expensive to use than the modern alternatives these days. Even so, we can evoke the pulp feel by coloring the page borders to match those old, slightly-yellowed newsprint pages.
There's an "over the rainbow" moment early on in the first issue. I'm considering employing a flatter or more muted palette for the first few pages so that we can get a nice visual transition at the moment that "everything has changed."
I'm mulling over the possibility of connecting the covers of the individual issues into one larger image. As it stands now, there are five main characters in Hellbent and five individual issues. And, of course, five points on a pentagram. I'm not sure exactly how this would work yet, but I think there are some interesting possibilities...
So there you have it. Six gimmicks for Hellbent, all with some justifiable purpose. Nothing revolutionary, I don't think, but I think they'll help my story to standout just a little bit from the rest.
Of course, the best gimmick is always a great writer and a great artist.
That one's still in progress.
 Drew Melbourne is the writer of this column, of Dark Horse Comics' ArchEnemies, and of various projects upcoming. At the moment he has a massive headache, but he doesn't hold that against any of you personally. For more about the author, visit DrewMelbourne.com.
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