Comic Book Techniques for Narrative Writing

 

Comic books aren't just full of caped crusaders, lovelorn teens, lasagne-obsessed cats and lonely mutants. Well they are, but they can also teach us a lot about writing, and not just in terms of the script.

I've been reading a book called How Comics Work by Dave Gibbons and Tim Pilcher. They recommend drawing up thumbnail sketches of page layouts, showing roughly what will go in each panel on each page. As thumbnails are small, they allow you to identify any problems before committing to the more detailed artwork that will go into the creation of the comic. Have you got the pacing right? Do you have any unnecessary repetition? Is there a good balance of light and dark? Have you saved the strongest image for the best spot? Does the design work as a whole? As they note, something that's not working at the thumbnail stage isn't going to magically work at full size. 

(For an example of thumbnails, click here to see some of James Baker's work.)

As I was reading, I couldn't help thinking how much these principles also apply to other types of narrative writing like novels and memoir. As Gibbons and Pilcher note, 'the whole point of thumbnails is to be able to quickly identify what is and isn't working in the storytelling so that you avoid any nasty surprises when it comes to drawing the actual artwork' (p. 61). If we're writing a novel or memoir aimed at adults, we might not typically have illustrations, but we're still painting scenes with our words. If it's not working at the outlining level, you can't just cross your fingers and hope that it will suddenly sound better when you've written the complete scenes.

If you're a Pantser rather than a Plotter, you're not off the hook, as these principles also apply to the editing stage. So how exactly do we apply them?

One way is to start with a scene map. This could be your initial outline (for Plotters) or a retrospective map based on your first draft (for Pantsers). Try to condense each scene to a couple of dot points that include setting, main characters, and one line about what they're doing. You could write these on small index cards, Post-it notes, chart paper or the computing equivalent; however, it has to be something that you can spread out (on the floor, a whiteboard, your garage door).

Then analyse the plot or the narrative to see if it ticks the right boxes. You might find colour-coding helpful in doing this, or some other method of sorting.

• Does the plot hang together well, with all loose ends tied up neatly (unless some things are purposely kept open for a sequel). Or is the story just a bunch of things that happen?
• Do subplots tie in with the main theme?
• What is the pacing like? Are there too many slow scenes in a row? Are there too many adrenalin-charged scenes in one section, so that the reader doesn't have time to breathe? Try to break it up a bit.
• Is one section overloaded with back story, when it might be better to drop it in a bit at a time? The same could be said for information dumps. For example, if you have a Christian or spiritual theme, is that woven through the story, or do you have several scenes in a row where a minister delivers a series of sermons to your main characters? If so, you might consider whether there's a better way to get your point across.
• If there is more than one point-of-view (POV) character, is each scene told from the vantage of just one of them and is there a smooth transition between scenes and POV shifts?
• Is the setting too static? If the whole point of your story is that everyone has to help each other while trapped on a lifeboat, as in Alfred Hitchcock's movie of the same name, then that's okay. More often than not, however, your story might benefit from changes in locations, weather, times of day and so on.
• Do you have too many scenes where people are doing similar things? (e.g., too many scenes where people are pouring a cup of coffee). What can you do to mix it up a bit and maintain reader interest? (Hint: The answer probably isn't to have them pouring a cup of tea instead of a cup of coffee).

When I was looking over a draft of my historical novel Scattered, I realised I had two similar scenes in which the antagonist took my heroine to a restaurant for lunch and then grilled her about a shipwreck she'd been involved in. I couldn't simply combine it into one scene, because there's a mystery involved and some bits of information were known at different times. I kept the first restaurant scene in the final version, but thought of a different scenario for the second. Instead of the baddie arriving at my heroine's workplace to take her to lunch, he arrived at closing time and offered her a ride home in his carriage. Not only did this allow for a change of setting, but it also provided an opportunity to ramp up my heroine's discomfort as she was forced into close quarters with someone she had reason to distrust.

There is a caveat with all of this. Any change you make should enhance the plot. Don't just have it rain for the sake of it. Use the rain to force your characters to huddle together or prevent them from doing something they need to do.

Do you have any other strategies that you've found helpful when analysing your plot (or reviewing the work of others)? I'd love to hear your examples. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the 1964 Iron Man comic I'm reading. After all, it's research for writing!

Author Bio

Nola Lorraine (aka Nola Passmore) has had more than 150 short pieces published in a variety of genres, including fiction, memoir, devotional material, articles, poetry and academic work. Her inspirational historical novel Scattered was shortlisted for the 2021 CALEB Award for best adult fiction. She would love to connect with you: https://www.nolalorraine.com.au/

Credits

Gibbons, D., & Pilcher, T. (2017). How comics work. New York: Quarto.

Photo credits - Featured photo from author's own collection. Black and white comic by Miika Laaksonen on Unsplash. Whiteboard photo by StartupStockPhotsos on Pixabay.