It would seem my last few posts have been quite popular, and as such, I figured this whole be transparent thing served me well. Stands to reckon that I oughta continue whacking the cash piñata while it’s raining likes, retweets, comments, and the whatnot.

If you’re thinking of jumping into the deep end to make your own independent comics, the process is several columns long, kiddo, so consider this the prequel to the finale that was last week. Step one in making a comic could be a litany of sundry topics. I could talk about choosing your audience, or ascertaining your skill level, or learning how to collaborate. But the former is more about the sale (which we’ve already covered), the latter is far more personal in regards to your own level of humility and your need for control. I’d like to focus today on Unshaven Comics’ writing process – how we get from concept to actual words on the page – served up to you in bite-sized content chunks in a rich snarky gravy. Eat up.

Notes, notes, notes. Then more notes.

Beyond the initial spark of an idea we choose to explore, Unshaven Comics likes to begin our stories by simply spit-balling our way through every loose idea jangling around our collected beardspace, in regards to said comic. A blank document is opened (typically on Google Drive because being able to work and share a live document in the cloud makes for easy workflow… #synergy). And then the ideas just start spurting out. Matt might chime in how we need to focus on the armor and weaponry. Kyle will jump on the history and backstory that exists for the characters. I myself tend to ask the big picture questions: “What are we really trying to accomplish in this story that hasn’t been done before?”

My personal take before I start a comic is typically more business-minded. Call it the Jewish stereotype living well inside me, but I love being able to build a product I have sincere passion for as a fan and be able to eventually turn a profit from it. You can clearly see why Unshaven Comics works well as a unit: we each play to our strengths, and play off one another. That doesn’t sound dirty, does it?

So, we brain-vomit out all our fleeting thoughts into a working document, and then like a good grilled brisket, we let it rest.

Beat it. Beat it. Don’t you let me repeat it.

After a bit of time to stew in the ether of our privately shared note-pile, the next step in creating our comic is to hash out the main story beats we’re set to cover in the issue. These are the main ideas – scenes, really – we need to cover to get us from start to finish across the 36 or so pages. And for those playing at home, this is actually two blocks of 18 pages, one set for me, one set for Kyle and Matt. We start at the opening of our book and talk our way through the issue. As opposed to the note stage, here we consider the three-act structure, rising action, and all those loose ends needed to be tied together before we roll the credits. This stage is often rife with digressions that could last minutes, hours, or even days. Matt will think of a cool action beat we need to reach – and I’ll inherently feel the need to one up him – before we both realize we’ve created an impossibly cool moment that equally excites us to share with the fans, and instill pure terror in us because now we have to draw it. For what it’s worth, when we hit that stage, I’ve always known it to the sign that we’re ready to move forward.

Outlines in the sand.

So, let us say for Curse of the Dreadnuts 3 (coming soon to a comic con near you!), I have a story beat that calls for Sora, the Purple Samurnaut, to activate his hidden power of teleportation portal creation. It’s then my duty to figure out within my given set of pages (18) how long I need to draw the moment out.

I can’t recommend the books by Scott McCloud enough. As Mr. McCloud would instruct, the amount of time in a comic page, or even between one panel and the next, is entirely fluid in the writer’s hands. I could make the story beat itself seven pages long – exploring the creation of the first portal, the journey through it, shots of Sora’s facial expressions (paired with angsty caption boxes, oh my!), and maybe even a flashback to his youth to bring together a larger theme. I could just as easily make it half a page – blip, port, blip, crash, and scene. The key here is the outlining of the comic itself.

It’s typically here that I personally like to look over all the beats I need to cover in my given set of pages, divide evenly to start, and then start fiddling scene to scene. I give more time to beats that need more exploration, and I constrict lesser scenes to the necessary plot points I need to hit. In my example above, since this was the first time Sora would activate this latent ability, I’d felt a need to draw the sequence out; 4 pages from start to finish. And to ensure I was doing more than the expected, I introduce the second major beat of the issue, interspersed throughout the sequence. In lay-mans terms? I used the comic format to my advantage – using the digression of one scene to eat time away from the other, thus increasing the tension as Sora hurtles untethered towards his demise.

Sage Advice I Was Once Given

“If your character is going to go outside to get the mail, and all you do is show him opening the door, walking to the mailbox, pulling out the mail, and walking back inside… you’re wasting my time as a reader. Every panel is an opportunity to show someone something – even the mundane – in a new and interesting way.”

But I digress.

The outline for Unshaven Comics is the lynchpin by which our books are created. From a simple listing of scenes with their appropriate page counts, we’re able to see a birds-eye view of our comic before pencil ever hits the paper. And when that outline can be tweaked no more? We write out panel to panel what needs to be shown in order to communicate the scene and beat in question. After all these initial thoughts and scribblings are captured? Well, then it’s on to step two, kiddos. Stay tuned.

Next week: Dr. Photoshoot, or How I learned to stop caring what someone more talented than I can do, and love my models instead.

Written by Jim Zub. Art by Filipe Andrade and Jean-Francois Beaulieu.

Ever have a thing (in this case, a cartoonish purple dragon) on the tip of your tongue and you’ve just got to figure out where you’ve seen it before? I had to break down and look up Figment on Wikipedia. Figment is a Disney dragon who starred (Troy McClure style) in several shorts used throughout the Disney World theme park. So it would seem here, a salvo of Mouse-driven comic bookery, now put out by Mickey’s favorite movie-makers: a comic based on a barely-there cartoon character. Sure as hell beats a live-action Eddie Murphy star-vehicle about Tomorrow Land, I suppose.

Jim Zub, of Skull Kickers fame, turns in a script that could easily fare in a direct-to-DVD cartoon adaptation with ease. I am pleased to report that Zub comes from my favorite camp of all-ages content creators – building a book that doesn’t speak down to kids with crude humor or simple language. Instead he tells a simpler story, backed by a load of stylish flair and characterization. Our hero, the brilliant (and brilliantly named) Blarion Mercurial, is one of many fine minds working at the Academy Scientifica-Lucidus. Tasked by the demanding Chairman Illocrant to find new sources of energy, Mercurial is the quintessential dreamer with a heart of gold and a head in the clouds. We soon learn that Blarion himself is a man of meager means, given a shot at greatness because of his intrepid mind. His solution to the steam-punky world’s need for more power? The power of the mind, bay-bee. And his Integrated Mesmonic Convertor is the kind of kooky contraption a child might come up with on a rainy day.

The device harnesses the power of thought to generate electricity. Or that’s what Blarion would like it to have done. But like any good thrill-a-minute adventure book of days past, his invention doesn’t seem to work exactly that way. Instead, it created a sentient being built of pure imagination. Figment, the quirky and cute purple dragon – once an invisible pal to a young (and maybe lonely?) genius, now made real! But Zub doesn’t get long to revel in the science, as our hero is put back to the task at hand with seven days to solve the energy problem. I won’t spoil the ending – I know, that’s a change for me – but suffice the say the script zigs where I thought it might zag. It sets up the book for future chapters that clearly will be more frenetic than this first installment.

Concerning the actual words on the page, I reiterate my glee at a script that has no problem speaking above the target audience’s head. It causes would-be readers to stretch their vernacular in order to meet the mental demand of the story. That being said, this is a fun and whimsical book. One that I fret to admit I came in ready to hate with all the piss and vinegar I could muster.

Not to knock poor Walt, but Disney has not been synonymous to me lately with tons of good will. Cracking open this comic though reminded me of the company that set the tone for my childhood with aplomb. “Figment” is akin to those pieces of cinematic fiction that define generations of youth to strive for excellence. The fact that Jim Zub chooses to explore psuedo-science, and pair it with working-class sensibilities, and never take cause for a fart gag? It’s a sign to me that the all-ages comics are continuing to put to shame the cape and cowl sect – far more apt to dissolve into mindless action than tell a good story.

Art chores by Filipe Andrade and Jean-Francois Beaulieu give us a simply grand visual experience to enjoy. Andrade’s scenes are all awash in detail – sketchy detail – that show us an artist truly building a world … and perhaps layer abandoning it. His hand is loose and gestural, but his finished figures are hefty beneath the layer of slightly erased doodles. Beaulieu’s colors elevate the book to the stratosphere it aims at. Warm tones bring figures to the foreground against cooler-toned environments. And the bare hint of an occasional glow or knockout lend themselves more towards a painterly page than a Photoshopped one. While I had a few flashbacks to artists like Ryan Sook, and even Gene Ha in small doses, Filipe and Jean-Francois build a comic book that is simply a joy to read through. The fact that we can spent nearly 80% of the book without the titular dragon, and not miss it? It’s a sign that their work takes Zub’s script and carry us through universe-building without being a drag.

Zippedoo-da. Zippedee-aye. My, oh my, what a wonderful day! “Figment” hit my pull-list like a ton of bricks – the idea of a Disney-penned also-ran, made into a needless comic book – but ended up making my day. Jim Zub and the team of artists build a tale of brilliance that celebrates the power of thought, the joy of imagination, and yeah … there’s a dragon in it too. When fiction strives to elevate it’s target audience through the use of fine language and adult concepts, and present it without pretense? You get an end-product that both the parent and child can enjoy on their own terms. Whether you’re a fan of Mickey or not, Figment is a fine comic to seek out. You needn’t dream about it further; here’s one piece of your imagination made real.