How to Write & Draw Comics
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I met Chris as he and Dean Haspiel were setting up a booth. Chris and I clicked immediately. He gave me a copy of his Everywhere! anthology booklet he had printed for the show and asked me if I would consider doing an episode. We exchanged numbers and continued to chat for almost an hour. I walked back to the booth this Danish cartoonist had set up in the corner of the con floor and started reading the booklet. I texted Chris 5 minutes after we parted ways: “I’m in.” For a guy who wasn’t looking for work, I was totally failing after just one day in the country.
We stayed in touch over the next months via e-mail and texts. Chris sent me a great script for Everywhere! episode, a heist story that was more or less written with my taste in mind. It was a great experience and Chris continued to bring up Thomas Alsop, a concept he had pitched me on the con floor that first time I met him. I still figured it had nothing to do with me, not ready to commit to anything that major and not sure how to go about it.
Later that year I heard of New York Comic Con for the first time and figured I would try to fly over for that. I’d already been to San Diego Comic Con and did a few signings on the West Coast. I reached out to Dean and asked if I could come sit at his studio for a week or so before or after the con and he said sure. I went and got to know both Chris and Dean a whole lot better.
Scripts and photo references for Thomas Alsop started filling up our Dropbox and we did a little teaser episode for Trip City called The Case of Dead Uncle. Google it, I’m sure it’s still out there. Again Chris was smart enough to lure me in with something short and doable rather than a full script for 8 issues.
Chris had already written the entire 8-issue arc before I even drew a single page. It was crucial to have the ending (and wow, what an ending!) in mind even as I was working on issue 1. Whether it would ever go anywhere was still in the wind, but when Chris spent his own money creating a live action trailer (viewable on the front page of thomasalsop.com) I was floored. It looked like a million bucks! This crazy New Yorker meant business and he clearly knew what he was doing.
In July of 2013 we pitched Thomas Alsop to BOOM! at SDCC. We’d bumped into a friend of Chris’ on the con floor who introduced us to Matt Gagnon and we chatted for like 20 minutes. Only after parting ways did we realize he was the editor in chief.
BOOM! eventually picked up the book and I started breaking down the script and drawing issue #2. We did hit a small snag when the publisher suddenly wanted to discuss a key point in the story revolving 9/11. If it had been a minor element we would have probably obliged to change it but since it was in line 2 of the pitch they bought and was a crucial focal point of the whole series, Chris and I stood our ground. We eventually agreed to a add little essays as back matter, making it clear for the readers that Chris was not just some douche exploiting a national disaster but was himself a New Yorker, born and bred. The book went forward and the controversy never happened. On the contrary, the respectful handling of 9/11 in the story seemed to land us an even more committed fan base and the book was dubbed Best Mini-Series of 2014 by USA Today. So even though BOOM! decided not to do a second series due to lack of commercial success, we still have a book we can be proud of out there. And who knows, maybe some day…
Lessons learned:
If I have any regrets in my career, it is not going to a US con sooner. Where the US has an actual comics industry, Denmark does not. I learned a lot from working with Chris, and found out I don’t necessarily have to be the one behind the wheel to enjoy the ride.
This post is an excerpt from my book SOLO – Survival Guide for Creative Freelancers – Pre-order now on Amazon.
The fear of failure, the fear of finishing. When a work is finished and put out into the world it can feel like a loss of control and setting yourself up for criticism. It can be hard to live up to the expectations of the audience as well as your own.
If you’re not able to “dance with that fear”, as Seth Godin put’s it, you are dead in the water. It could help to trick yourself into thinking of the work as a jam session rather than a large scale concert where nothing must go wrong. We talked about this idea earlier, but the fear of the blank page is real and tangible. You need to splash some paint on that canvas, put yourself in a situation where you don’t freeze up. I still have a ton of doubts about whatever I am creating. Experience has taught me to push through those doubts and distracting my monkey brain in the process. Just putting on a pair of headphones and doing one task at a time, going for progress not perfection.
When I was working on my graphic novel STILETTO, I made a rule for myself; I was not allowed to redraw or make significant corrections until after I had finished all 120 pages of artwork. I made mental notes whenever I was dissatisfied with a panel, promising myself I would fix it later. But guess what? When looking at the book as a whole, redrawing those panels didn’t feel so important any more. I ended up redrawing maybe a handful of panels, all because of continuity or for clearer storytelling, not because I didn’t like the art. I was able to keep myself from getting derailed by postponing judgment. It also saved me a ton of work.
Attempts to cheat your own brain like that don’t always work. If you feel you lack ideas or lack the drive to create, go do something else. I always used to think of my creativity as a bonfire that had to be kept burning. I was afraid the fire would die out if I left it alone for too long. Now I feel like walking away from it for a day, a week or even a month is the best way to get a bigger fire burning. Seeing new places, getting new experiences and learning something new are almost surefire ways of getting out of a creative funk.
On a day-to-day basis I also try to use the approach of getting a different perspective. I bring my notebook on a walk along the lakes or to a cafe. I flip my drawings over on the light box, look at the mirrored image and immediately spot mistakes I was blind to before. I print out my manuscript and go sit in another chair or in the kitchen rather than stare at the computer screen. Going back and forth between digital and analogue as well as changing scenes can help you get out of whatever rut you’re stuck in.
This post is an excerpt from my book SOLO – Survival Guide for Creative Freelancers – Get in now on Amazon.
I’m super proud of what we put out there, but I found myself wanting to do something something a non-roleplayer could pick up and enjoy. But at the same time, I knew I had something of a fan base in the RPG underground. What to do?
I think it was at some convention a guy showed me a White Wolf comic, based on the Werewolf game, and encouraged me to do something similar with FUSION. I completely dismissed the idea (because I’m an idiot that way). And then changed my mind less than 24 hours later.
The plot for Hard Evidence (in Danish “Skyggen af bevis”) came from a roleplaying game session. Well, two actually. My friend Thomas Bjerregaard came up with the story of a man who seemingly murdered his wife, and a sinister conspiracy beneath it all. First time around, the setting was America in the 1950’s and the investigators FBI agents. I re-hashed the plot for our FUSION campaign, the setting now a near-future Copenhagen and private investigators on the case.
We took turns as game masters in our campaign, like different directors on a tv-show. My character, ex-con Hauge, wasn’t in the session as it played out, but took the stage for the graphic novel. I enjoyed playing this guy so much, I thought he could use his own show. I toned down his thick-headed personality and made him a bit more articulate for the graphic novel. I wanted the dialogue to be zinging and tough, like Raymond Chandler at his best.
In a way, this project was a stepping stone for me. It got me back into comics, when I thought it too hard. The Devil’s Concubine was scripted and thumbnailed and just laid there, like a mountain waiting to be climbed. Hard evidence seemed like a less daunting task. Drawing it got me back into shape and rebuilt my confidence. The story originally ran as a weekly web comic on the FUSION website, thus forcing me get the damn pages done in time. I can highly recommend this method. Only downside is that everyone has read the book before it comes out. I coerced a few of my peers into doing art for a pin-up gallery in the back, so byers would get something new for their money.
Lessons learned:
Sometimes it’s a good idea to do a smaller project, almost like a throw-away thing rather than trying to tackle the most ambitious thing you can think of.
This post is an excerpt from my book SOLO – Survival Guide for Creative Freelancers – Get in now on Amazon.
In most cases and artist hired to do a specific job retains the IP (Intellectual Property) of their work. Creating a jingle, a op-ed illustration or a short story for a magazine doesn’t mean signing off ownership. It means you lease the work you did to a client for a specific purpose and/or time period. If there’s a contract involved this should specify exactly who owns what right but as a rule of thumb, it’s you as the creator.
In comics, there is work-for-hire (in which case the publishing company owns all the rights) and creator-owned (in which case you bring the project to the publisher and sign off the publishing rights but retain the intellectual property). If you’ve been on retainer or creating something while working for Disney or Microsoft, you bet they will keep the IP – and trying to fight them on it will cause you a lot of time and headaches and likely bankruptcy.
If on the other hand you were hired to design a poster and the company decides they want to use it for a banner ad or a free give-away sticker, you’ll likely be able to get more money or get them to cease and desist, since you still own the IP. Theoretically you could sell the same piece of work twice but you risk pissing off both clients, where they ever to find out. Comics artists do this all the time, selling original artwork that was printed in a book and I’m sure it’s similar in other industries.
If a client should present you with a waiver or contract leaving them with all the rights to your work for all use in all eternity and known universes, I’d be very wary of signing it. And if I did, I’d expect to be well compensated. Some clients will try to get all the rights but it’s usually negotiable if you push back. If you do sign off say publishing rights, make sure the rights revert back to you after a period of time – the standard is two to three years.
Some of my earlier clients have thought they just owned whatever they bought from me, to use for whatever. I’ve sometimes introduced the idea of rights and been able to charge a higher price for my work, by offering broad usage with no time limit – mostly in cases where I cared less about the artwork, and had no use for it myself. The client might find it more convenient to buy you out from the beginning instead of having to negotiate a new rate every time they find a new use for your jingle, illustration or whatever. And that’s totally fair, as long as they pay premium.
Copyright is another can of worms but basically no one is allowed to steal your work and present as their own or use it for commercial purposes without your explicit permission. There’s something called “fair use” which means if a blogger reviews my comic I can’t very well sue them for using an image from the book.
If you’re a semi-pro artist I’m sure you use stuff like Instagram to promote your art. Some artists are wary of putting their content on these platforms as it might get stolen or copied. And while it certainly happens, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. You can post work-in-progress or detail shots rather than finished artwork and your followers will be just as happy. Besides, the more loyal fans you have out there, the bigger the chance that they will let you know if your work shows up in weird places.
If you do find your work popping up somewhere online you can take two different approaches:
1. Let it go. Usually there’s no ill intent behind it, people just don’t realize that you can’t copy/paste whatever you find online. Or maybe they’re evil bastards (like the people who put my book The Devil’s Concubine on a torrent somewhere in China), who knows? But the chances of you getting them to cease and desist are slim at best.
Usually there’s no ill intent behind it, people just don’t realize that you can’t copy/paste whatever you find online. Or maybe they’re evil bastards (like the people who put my book The Devil’s Concubine on a torrent somewhere in China), who knows? But the chances of you getting them to cease and desist are slim at best.
2. Send a nice e-mail to the owner of the site, asking them either to take it down or at least credit you – or simply send them a bill! I wouldn’t expect them to pay but it might help persuade them to remove your work from their page.
This post is an excerpt from my book SOLO – Survival Guide for Creative Freelancers – Pre-order now on Amazon.
In Angoulême in 2012, I wrote a blog post on the phenomenon I later started calling “con fatigue”. It was day 2 or 3 at the festival. Sure, I had a hangover. But the hangover was more of a psychological kind as I walked around the exhibition tents that were packed with comics fans in all ages and genders. I should have been thrilled to see all this interest for my field. I should have been enthused at looking at all this great art and inspired by the spirit of the festival. Instead, it all felt overwhelming and my own role in all this seemed completely redundant.
I don’t know everything about how the creative brain works but it does seem to reach a point sometimes where it cannot process any more information and just wants to shut down. Where you can’t look at any more art or meet any more interesting people. It creates a sinking feeling that I suppose is not unlike depression. I say this here, because we need to know it happens – and that it is okay. It’s part of the human condition.
So there I was in Angoulême, feeling sorry for myself, just wanting to go home and hug my kids. I felt like no one was even remotely interested in looking at my work and I completely understood why. It’s useless! Look at all this other stuff! How can I compete, why even try? In other words, I was being a self-centered little cry-baby. Frustrated, I went into a crowded lunchtime café and got a soda at the bar, tried to check my e-mail but couldn’t log on to their wi-fi. Off course.
Then in the door walks Brian Azzerello.
I’ve been a fan of Azarello’s since his early work on Hellblazer, that was so scorchingly cynical and hardcore I’d never read anything like it. I was working on the layouts for The Devil’s Concubine when 100 Bullets started coming out, and Azzarello’s stark writing and Eduardo Risso’s slick line art blew me away. The pages were so perfectly balanced, the blackness bled across panels and the colors were vibrant and bloody awesome. It looked exactly like my book! It was like they had plugged into my brain and pulled out the look and style that I was unable to put down on paper. Looking at Bullets, I knew how my book should be done. I tried putting it away and I tried to create my own style, but the damned thing had etched itself in my mind so permanently that The Devil’s Concubine in certain places looks like – let’s be brutally honest here – a rip-off.
Bumping into Azzarello like that, I had to shake his hand and thank him. I was able to fumble a book from my bag and give it to him, along with my sincere apologies. I said it with a smile and I hope he took the fact that I was so inspired by his work as a compliment. We had a nice little chat but I didn’t want to outstay my welcome. I just felt honored and privileged to be able to give something back.
As I left the café, I left my inner cry-baby behind.
Later I met writer Joe Keatinge whom I’d recently met in New York, and he was nice enough to introduce me to a couple of French editors he knew. Suddenly my visit at the festival seemed to make sense again. You can’t plan things like these. But if you’re not there, they certainly don’t happen.
Later on in the evening I ended up at dinner with a bunch of comics guys. We discussed the topic of hitting the wall. Feeling so small and useless in a sea of talent, that you just want to pack up and go home. I don’t know if we broke a tabu but it seemed Danes and Americans alike lit up at the reveal that we all at one point or another had shared the same experience. When you hit that wall, you just have to wait for the sensation to pass through you. And it will.
This post is an excerpt from my book SOLO – Survival Guide for Creative Freelancers – Get in now on Amazon.