I try to have no backbone. I really do. I try to give my editors whatever they want. I try to compromise my creative vision. I try to be an awful, soulless hack...
Somehow it just keeps on coming out wrong.
 "Oh
no!" you say. "I'm an artist! I will never change a single letter in my
512 page All-Star Ambush Bug vs. Bizarro proposal. Some day Joey
Cavalieri is sure to give in and publish this baby as is."
That might be true. But
some of us aren't sitting on top of the next world's next Ulysses,
waiting for the plebians (and/or well-respected editors) to come
around. Some of us live in the real world, with tangible goals, like,
"make enough money writing comics to eat."
Some of us just want to sell out.
I know, I know. This from
the guy who talks and talks about becoming the world's greatest comic
book writer. I, of all people, should be telling people to follow their
muse*. Right?
Wrong.
Step One: Break in. Step Two: Break out. In that order. You don't need self-respect until people know who yourself is.
That's the theory, at least.
So when you're writing a
pitch, PLEASE make sure that you know what the company you're pitching
to wants. If they only publish certain kinds of stories, write those
kinds of stories. If they have a recommended format, follow it. If they
can only speak and read Dutch, then schrijf uw hoogte in het Nederlands!
Life would be simple if you could just follow that advice and be done with it. (At the very least, writing this column would be simpler.)
Unfortunately, The Powers That Be don't always know what they want, and sometimes the things they want change. And sometimes, The Powers That Be change. And that's when things get extra crazy.
It was my own fault, I suppose. I wrote a pitch for one company, and I reused it for another. That's a no-no, usually. But it was all very quick, with a lot of "Can you send me this?" and "How about this?" type shenanigans going on.
Bottom line is that the second company really liked the pitch, and wanted to publish the book. But...
The series I was pitching was originally conceived as a series of three issue arcs. A three issue arc is too short for a trade paperback, but two three issue arcs equals six issues--FACE THE FURY OF MY MIGHTY MATHS!--which in some circles is just right.
 "Some circles," in this case, does not equal "the company that wanted to publish the book," no matter how mighty my math may be. No, this company only wanted to publish four issue trades. And that left me with a very serious problem.
Obviously, I wasn't going to be able to fit two three issue arcs into four issues. Would I expand the three issue arc into four issues? Would I end on a standalone? Or would we just reprint issue 3 with a different cover and hope no one was the wiser?
Turns out, that last one was a non-starter with my editor...
Let's think: If you bought a four issue trade paperback, which would you be happier with? A three-issue story and a standalone, or one complete four-issue story? Quality issues aside, I think you'll agree that it makes more sense to tell one complete story per collection.
(Alternatively, you might tell four individual stories, but it was a little late in the game to start off in that direction.)
But how do you turn a three issue arc into a four issue arc? You'd either have to stretch out the three issues you have, or you'd have to add more story to the end. Neither of these options is ideal.
If your original story is any good (and I'd like to think mine was), then "stretching" is extremely difficult. Stories are paced a certain way for a reason. I designed each issue of my first arc to tell a specific part of the story and end on a specific moment.
Besides, if you were adding content just to get a three-issue arc to last four-issues, then you'd really be padding for the trade.
So, no stretching. But how do you add an ending for an arc that's already finished?
If you're a hack (like you should be) then you just do it, collect a paycheck, and take a nap. Sadly, despite my better angels, I can't quite bring myself to do that. If you're extending an arc, you need to accomplish the following things:
- raise the stakes
- maintain the tone and themes of the original issues
- resolve issues left dangling in the original conclusion
On top of that, I had a series of other semi-arbitrary restrictions that I had placed on every individual issue I have written for the series:
- the story must be specific to the characters and setting
- each major character must have a key role in the story
- the major characters' storylines must tie together at the climax
That's a lot of restraints for a single issue, and sometimes if you worry that much about a piece of writing you'll wind up paralyzing yourself.
(Imagine if someone told Da Vinci to add three inches to either side of the Mona Lisa! That would be really hard for Da Vinci, because he's dead.)
 Sometimes tons of restraints are bad. But sometimes they're good. (And not just if you're an S-and-M fetishist.) Sometimes the right combination of restraints can get your mind thinking in just the right way.
Sometimes, if you "think inside the box," and your box is shaped just right, you can open it up and find just what you're looking for.
So I took the emotional fallout of the third issue and used it to drive the fourth issue. I looked at how the events of the first three issue touched one of the main characters, and I looked for away to unexpectedly echo those feelings in the other main character. I took the big climax of issue three and topped it with a smaller, more intimate climax in issue four.
And, of course, I went back to the first three issues and started rewriting them in order to lay the groundwork for what was coming up.
Did it work? Did I ruin everything? Would I have been better off if I just cribbed an old episode of Marcus Welby, M.D. and then went out back for a smoke?
You'll be able to tell me, round abouts April of next year.
Patience is probably a virtue. In the mean time, you can find me here, grumbling and pacing.
Next time, the world's pettiest, most one-sided feud.
 This is one of Drew's classic Think Like Tomorrow columns.
* People are always being told to follow their muse, but it's a well known fact that only three of the muses are actually worth following. Calliope, of course, plus Erato and Clio. But if you have a muse named Euterpe or, come on, Terpsichore? Don't follow. Run.
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