Caution: Writing Comics is Not the Easy Solution
Writing comic scripts can be fun, but it's not effortless
Heads up: I’m filling out my March/April editing schedule. If you want help making your novel or comic script one that readers can’t stop talking about, give me a shout.
“I’m struggling to write this novel, so I’ll just make it a comic book.”
Sigh.
I hear it all the time. When aspiring writers hit a snag with their genre fiction, they sometimes turn to comics as an easy way to tell their stories.
Unfortunately, that’s not how this works.
Let me make this clear up front: anyone can write a comic script.
I’m not a purist who thinks writing comics is only for those who live and breathe comics. I’ve met enthusiasts who insinuated that I shouldn’t be making comics because I didn’t love them enough, as if a secret committee checks credentials and defines who’s worthy enough to write in this beloved medium.
There’s no prerequisite, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to waltz in here and whip up a perfect comic script on day one just because you think it’ll be easier than that damn novel you’ve been fighting with.
Look, I get it. They’re easy because comics are for kids, right?
Well, no, they aren’t. At least, not all of them. But yeah, you read them as a kid, so I can understand why you might believe that’s who they’re meant for.
But just because kids can enjoy comics doesn't mean they’re easy to create. Hell, if anything, making comics for kids is far more challenging than making them for adults, but that’s a conversation for another day.
Comics look effortless because the ones you’re reading, the ones that drew you to comics in the first place, were produced by professionals. Your cherished favorites look simple because everyone on the team spent years of practice, trial and error, hard work, and dedication to make it look that way.
Comics are a visual medium, and unless you’re handling the art, too, it’s a collaborative effort.
And it all starts with the story. With the writer.
At this point, though, I don’t even think of it as writing. It’s more like building a comic script. You have to balance your creativity and a bit of logic to get it right. You have to learn to work with new tools and plenty of limitations.
But all of your comic-making heroes started from zero, and you can, too.
Before jumping in with high expectations, though, let’s look at some of the things that make writing a comic different from writing a novel…
The Comic Writer’s Sandbox
When making comics, you have to realize you’re playing with constraint. You’re playing in a sandbox that continues to shrink the more you write any particular script. Every decision you make impacts all the others.
The number of pages, the number of panels, the fact you can only show one action per image… that’s all limiting what you can do. It doesn’t matter if you’re developing a 6-page short, a 22-page issue, a miniseries, or a graphic novel that’s 300+ pages, you’ll feel that constraint at some point.
Let’s say you’ve decided to stick with the 22-page format. You’ve mapped out your story, and it has seven scenes. That’s about three pages per scene. But you can’t simply make every scene fill three pages. That’s not how pacing works. You need to determine which scenes you let breathe and which you tighten with the corset.
It’s like playing a game of Tetris. With those early drafts—you’re ready to write multiple drafts, right?—you’re shifting panels and key moments to see what works where. You have to decide how much of your story goes on each page. You keep shifting things around, moving one moment from this page to the next, trying to imagine how it will flow on the final page.
Meanwhile, you’re also deciding which is the best moment to capture in each panel and how many panels you’ll need to convey the action clearly. Yes, the artist will help you with that, but it’s on you to decide the bulk of it upfront.
Oh, did I mention you can only have one action in each panel? Yeah, it’s obvious to seasoned writers, but the average comic reader might not recognize this very important detail. For new writers, it’s one of the most challenging elements of the comic format. (You can have a panel with one action and a separate reaction, but that’s not the same as trying to cram in a character kicking a vampire while pulling a sharp stake from a holster and jamming it into another vampire at the same time.)
The big takeaway is that, to some degree, you’re balancing all of this simultaneously. It’s trial and error. Maybe this scene is 15 panels, or maybe it’s only ten. Maybe this panel is on one page, or maybe you save it for the next. Maybe this beat is one panel, or maybe you spread it out so it’s three.
The more you decide within that scene, the more limitations and constraints you create for the rest of the scene… your sandbox gets smaller and smaller.
Page Flow
See that final panel on the odd pages? The one that appears on the right side and leads to a page-turn? Assuming you’re printing it as a physical comic, you’ve got to make that final panel a sort of mini-cliffhanger. Something enticing enough to get the reader to turn the page again.
You need to capture the right beats to ensure the last moment on every other page is the exact moment to get your readers to turn the page. If it’s not, you might consider rewriting the earlier parts of the scene so it is.
Dialog
Comics are a visual medium. Yes, the dialog you write is important, but no matter how much you want to celebrate the words you choose, you have to remember that most readers come for the art.
Sure, you’re part of the storytelling team, but dialog isn’t what brings in the readers. Don’t believe me? Check your favorite comic. I bet you can understand the story and emotions without even reading the dialog.
As the writer, you know what your characters need to say, but can you capture how your character would actually say it?
You also improve your dialog when revising novels, so that’s not unexpected. But here’s where it gets interesting with comics: your dialog can’t simply rehash what the reader sees in the image. Why bother reading it if it’s just telling me what I already see?
No, the best dialog compliments the art. They work together. One clarifies the other or enhances it in some way.
Know Your Audience
You might be excited to share your idea with readers, but you’re not writing the script for your end readers. You’re writing it for one person: the artist.
Describing the image you have in your head clearly enough so the artist can translate it onto the page is a skill that might take a while to develop. You need to convey the action, and maybe also the emotion, or maybe even the reasons for the actions. Anything to help the artist understand the impact and reasons for the panel.
Then again, sometimes, you need to get out of the way, write briefly, and let the artist take over.
Revisions
Let’s say you managed to nail it. The script is great. But you let friends read it, and they point out a gaping plot hole. Oops.
Okay, no big deal, you have a simple solution. You just add a page, right?
Nope.
Remember, you have constraints limiting what you do. You can’t just add a page. When editing, there’s a ripple effect. Adding a page means all of those glorious page-turn mini-cliffhangers you developed are now on the left-hand side. (Not to mention that 22-page comic is now 23 pages.)
Then do you just add two pages? Well, ask yourself, is that new detail worth two pages?
No? Then maybe you should whittle it down to one extra panel. Okay, great, but can that particular page handle another panel?
Then again, maybe you should merge a couple of actions into one “simpler” panel.
Or maybe all you need is better dialog?
Constraints again! And the more you tighten your story, the more constricted you’ll feel when it’s time to make an addition. (Removing panels or pages can do the same thing when you’re hit with the reality you have too much real estate to play with, which makes the pacing out of whack again.)
Again, at this point, you’re sort of rewriting, but you’re also rebuilding, trying to figure out how to add this important brick into a wall you’ve already mortared.
Other Considerations
In addition to all that, you still need to write an engaging story that’s well-paced with strong character growth and plenty of action and tension.
Seriously, that’s a challenge all by itself.
And when you’re done with the script, you have to learn to collaborate with others. First with an artist, then with a colorist, and then the letterer. Possibly an editor or publisher, too.
You hired all of these creators because you like their work. You value what they bring to the table. You want to stay true to your vision while also letting them play with the world you’re creating. In a way, you, as the writer, are in charge of and also part of the team.
And if you’re self-publishing, that raises all sorts of other concerns you’ll need to handle.
But if you try it, and I hope you do, you might find that writing comics perfectly merges art and science. It’s a wonderful balance of creativity and logic.
I love writing comics. I have over 500 pages of unproduced scripts just sitting around, waiting for me to do something.
I know I worded this article as everything you have to do when writing a comic script. But for me, it’s more about things you get to do.
Comics are fun. I love dealing with those page and panel constraints. I love getting it perfect and then receiving feedback from the artist who has an even better solution.
But while this article is meant to raise awareness and hint at the complexities involved with making comics, you should try it. You might love it.
Just don’t go into it thinking it’s simple, painless, or easy.
If you’ve written comics, I’d like to hear what challenges you discovered with those early scripts. Which did you learn to love? Drop me a comment.
Loved this, thanks for sharing as someone trying to write a novel, short stories, and comics, I found this insightful
“Get to” indeed! Comics are such a flexible, powerful medium, but also complex. It’s fun juggling all those dynamics to produce the effects you want to tell your story.