No, You Don’t.
This should give you some idea of how much of lead time I have on strips. Remember this post from November 3rd? It was all about this strip:
…which ran on December 7th. Here’s the version I originally submitted:
Ideally, I’m supposed to be 6 weeks ahead with my Sunday strips. But taking habitual lateness into account, I’m usually down to 4 1/2 or 5ish.
I’m not clear on who the Klan reference would’ve made upset, or if it was just considered too ‘icky’ to deal with. Writing the strip has a convoluted set of can’t-do’s. Writing a Sunday strip, however, has it’s own very short list. What can’t you do in a Sunday strip? ANYTHING!
Blandness is next to Godliness, I guess.
Here’s a blog entry from Clear Blue Waters’ Karen Montague-Reyes detailing one of her own tales of horror.
Mail, Boxes, Etc.
Allow me to pull back the curtains and let you in on a WYH secret. Whenever you see a series of strips like this:
or this:
It usually means I’m phoning it in. Whether it’s because of an early deadline’s hot breath down my neck or because my week’s been cut short by minor surgery (I’ll miss you, Testicle.), those half-strips are often good for quickly churning out comedy when life intrudes on my drawing time. I only have to draw six panels for the week, which would be the equivalent of drawing just two regular strips.
That explains this week’s series of strips, e.g.:
From the time I draw those up until even now, my time has been consumed with negotiating my move to Atlanta. Which would also explain my lack of blog posts, my unanswered e-mails and the line of people mad at me because I never got a chance to tell them I was leaving. (Those last two mostly involve my bookies.)
It’s been a week or so and I still don’t have my bearings here. Partly because I don’t know anything about anything about this place. Partly because I’m still surrounded by boxes and boxes of… whatever that stuff is that women deem too important to tip into a dumpster. Somehow that stuff is never important enough to actually use. I’m struggling not to succumb to the chaos.
I’ve also been caught up in switching bank accounts, retrieving forwarded mail, updating credit info and all that other tangly stuff that comes with a major move. Add to that a couple of earlier-than-usual deadlines and I haven’t had chance to sit back for weeks.
I’m gradually falling back into my regular schedule, though. Which means more pointless blog posts for everybody! Especially the children! I have candy!
I’ll post my initial musings on Atlanta sometime this weekend.
The More You Know
Today I learned that mentioning the Klan in your comic strip is not allowed on Sundays.
*star flashes across the sky above Sam Waterston’s head*
It’s the Baum.
I’m assuming most people have at least a basic knowledge of the Wizard of Oz story. Dorothy gets swept away from Kansas, ends up in a strange land, meets three weirdos, yada yada… So the four main characters of the WYH storyline need no introduction. As for the rest of the adaptation, even those paying attention may have missed something. I pulled stuff from both the book and the movies, so some references may have flown over some heads. This post is for all your heads.
I started out trying to establish how tired Cory was, not only so he could doze off on the bus, but because I had a funny idea for the poppy field scene later on in the story. His sleepiness was going to be a running theme throughout the storyline, but I had to abandon that idea about three weeks in, because… I was already three weeks in! No time or space for running themes and extraneous details.
Also no time or space for introducing too many characters, so I had to combine some characters into one person. Kind of like those based-on-a-true-story Lifetime movies starring Harry Connick Jr. as the entire Monterey Police Department. So…
…this was the Wicked Witch. East, West, whatever. She was both. Cory’s adventures begin by running over her. The bike I gave her clued some people in early on where I was going with the story.
She was also the Good Witch of the North, who tells Cory where he is and where he needs to go to get home. The pepper spray was my version of the Good Witch’s protective kiss on Dorothy’s forehead (I don’t think that was in the movie). I had plans to use to the pepper spray as a continuing story element too, but, again, I had to abandon it. Like the youngest Winslow daughter, it went upstairs and was never seen or mentioned again.
And, oh yeah. Speaking of plans that were forcibly abandoned. I forgot to mention:
Omar-on-the-phone was Toto. I had some interesting places I wanted to go with that too. (I might just do this story over as an online strip or something, if I ever find the time).
I think the biggest head-scratcher for a lot of folks was the inspiration behind these little munchkins:
People assumed they were the Flying Monkeys, though the pieces didn’t fit. Nope. They were mostly based on these. Kalidahs, creatures with the heads of tiger and bodies of bears. They attack Dorothy and ‘em on their way to the Emerald City. (This was also not in the movie).
Another composite character was Ozzie, the subway station manager. He was the guard at the Emerald City gates as well as the Wizard. And also Richard Pryor, the Wiz.
He sends the group of four on a mission where they have to confront the Wicked Witch and free the Winkies. Well… one Winky:
It climaxes, of course, with the Witch being drenched in water and melting. Or worse, having a frizzy ‘fro.
The WYH story probably reads better all at once, instead of four panels every day for 6 weeks. And it’s probably more fun if you’re fan of the original. Even more so now that you’ve figured out who’s who.
Or have you…?
*dramatic organ*
Are We There Yet?
By now, it should be obvious to anyone paying attention that the current storyline is an adaptation/re-imagination of the Wizard of Oz. As I’ve noted before, I love re-imaginations and remakes. I don’t know what part of my personality they appeal to, but I get some odd pleasure out of comparing different versions of things.
So, I enjoyed the hell out of brainstorming ideas for this story’s script. The execution of the story, though… didn’t work out so well. In hindsight, it may not have been the best story to adapt to a daily comic strip format, where I’m limited to telling it in 4-panel increments.
First of all, in order to fit the constraints of space, I had to distill the original storyline down to its most basic elements. And even though the Wizard of Oz is a classic tale filled with imagination and adventure, it’s basically about a bunch of people taking a really long walk. The more story elements I had to strip away, the less interesting the story became, and the more it turned into 6 weeks of Cory doing nothing in particular. Some readers have already tired of it.
I really hate to snark on Head, but what the hell is with this lost in a strange neighborhood storyline? It was funny at first, but it’s been dragging on way too long. It’s making Spider-man’s flu epidemic seem fast paced, and I wish they’d just wrap it up already.
And if think they it’s long now, they should’ve seen how much was left on the cutting room floor. It probably would’ve worked better as an online strip where I had more control over how the story was presented. Bah!
I still managed to add an M Night. Shamalamading-esque twist to the ending next week, so hopefully that makes up for it a little. (Yes, it’ll still be going on next week! …sigh…)
For those still having fun, though, I’m going to give the breakdown on all the who’s and what’s of my version. Just in case some of it was missed, since I tried to be really subtle about it in the beginning. That’ll be my next post.
Scissors.
The editing process…
(Before that, though, sorry for the disappearing act. I’ve been busy over the past couple of weeks getting my affairs in order and apartment hunting in ATL. That’s right. In less than a month, I’ll be crossing state lines with my child bride and settling in Atlanta. She got accepted to Dirty Hippie School down there. Should be fun. Except for the actual moving part)
Anyway… editing…
There’s really not much to this besides a bunch of technical stuff.
After I’ve inked up the line drawings, I pop them into my 5-year-old Canon scanner. It wasn’t built for 14 x 17 paper, so I have to scan one half at a time. I’m looking forward to the day when I can afford one of those giant UMAX scanners. That might be a little too bulky to sneak out under a sweatshirt with my CD’s.
Without erasing any blue pencil lines, the inked panel from Step 2 shows up on my laptop screen like so:
I didn’t have to do much touching up of this panel besides adding the straight lines. But there’s usually a panel or two in every strip that needs some kind of computer-aided plastic surgery. Eyes too close together. Lop-sided faces. Hands too big. Stray pen marks. I don’t worry too much when I make mistakes on paper. I can just throw my toolbar at it.
Next, I add the border around the panel…
… and put the magic wand and airbrush to work. (I forgot to save a snapshot of that intermediary stage). Then I finalize the dialog, type it in and place it wherever in the panel it least obscures the art. I use the shape and pen tools to put together the word balloons, shove them around a little more for perfect placement and flatten everything. The end result can be found in last Friday’s strip:
That punchline was a lot funnier in the original un-#$%#@ version.
Major League.
In keeping with the theme of current posts, here’s Dilbert’s Scott Adams on how he creates his strip: http://dilbert.com/blog/entry/cartoonist_tools/
One of these days I’m going to get my hands on a Cintiq. Hopefully, I can outrun mall security.
Step 2: Paper
When I’m done scripting, though I don’t have the final dialog nailed down, I do have a specific idea of what I want each strip to look like. So, I take my notebook back to the lab and get ready to put my concepts on bristol.
First… an artist’s choice of drawing environment is important. They need to occupy a comfortable space that helps to foster their creativity. Some work in a busy studio, behind a cluttered drawing table. Some work in a pristine, secluded office to the strains of classical music, money burning in the fireplace. Different people flourish under different circumstances. The artist’s workspace can often be a reflection of the artist himself.
…
Don’t judge me.
Not the most conventional of drawing surfaces, I understand. And at times I do find that I need to use a sturdier surface. That’s when I go to this:
That also works for when I find the need to actually sit upright.
I grew up drawing in bed. It’s what I’m used to. It’s what I’d do as a kid while I pretended to study. (And now it’s occurred to me that some might consider studying in bed also weird.)
That fact that I’m not working at a slanted table with a bend-y lamp and a cup of pencils next to me is what sometimes keeps me from considering myself legit. It’s like being really good at tossing paper balls into a trashcan, then comparing your free throw percentage with Dwyane Wade. But, then again, the bed thing means I get to tell people, “I practically do this in my sleep.”
On to the drawing: I really know nothing about the pros and cons of drawing paper. All I know is I like using Strathmore’s 300 Series Bristol, preferably the smooth finish. Don’t ask me if that’s a good thing or a laughably poor choice. I just like the feel of it. And drawing is much easier for me on a larger scale, so those tiny strips you see in the paper or online all start on a 14″ x 17″ sheet. Sometimes I feel like even those aren’t big enough for me. I’m black, though. I’m used to it. (No I’m not.)
These are my drawing instruments of choice:
A mechanical pencil, loaded with blue lead, two Micron pens (01 & 08) and a Pitt Artist pen with a brush tip. I also keep my phone nearby, waiting for the BET Animation to call.
I’ll show how one panel gets done. First, I pencil the scene, of course. I use blue lead because it isn’t picked up when I scan the final black and white drawing. No need to erase. I saves me effort and elbow injuries.
Sometimes I need help from Google images for photoreference. Jason turning his head, believe it or not, came from this. Back when I first started, I wasted hours and hours, referencing every pose, expression or shirt wrinkle. Someone should have warned me.
Next, I use the brush pen to outline the the figures. I like the images to have really thick outlines, an illustration style that I don’t see used much in newspaper comic strips for some reason.
Next, I use the Micron pens to fill in the details and I’m done.
At this point, I’m not worried about completing the straight lines. After I scan this, I can add them on the computer.
The computer… that’ll be part 3.
Intermission.
I haven’t abandoned you guys, by the way. I just keep forgetting to whip out the camera everythime I start drawing a new strip. And my drawing process really (REALLY!) needs to be accompanied by visuals. I’m such a creature of habit that “find camera” doesn’t enter my thoughts until it’s too late. But Part 2 is coming this week. I promise you and myself.
I’d also like to congratulate Beth on being one of the first to realize what’s going on right now in the strip.
OK… Step 1: Rock
I usually try to get all my writing done at the start of the week. Sometimes I have a general idea of a vague outline of what I want to get done. Other times I have a general idea that I have no ideas and I’m screwed. Most of the time my head just feels like it’s filled with warm cotton and granite.
My attention span is woefully short, so it’s important for me to find somewhere free of distraction to sort things out. I don’t have a den or an underground lair (anymore). So, when it’s time for me to write, I get out of the house.
My apartment is an 8-minute bus ride (and 10-minute walk) away from the Potomac River waterfront in Alexandria. That’s where I get the bulk of my writing done. This is the view from my usual spot:
This is my usual spot:
That’s where I sit with nothing to distract me but joggers, planes and Latinas herding tow-headed toddlers. I break out my giant notebook and bottled water and get to work.
‘Work’ involves me glazing over on my bench, staring into the water and laughing to myself. Occasionally, I’ll pause to scribble erratically in my notebook and chuckle at my jumbled jottings. Needless to say, those Salvadoran nannies swing a pretty large arc around me with their strollers.
Depending on how long it takes to be inspired, I’m usually out there between 20 minutes and two hours. When it’s done, I end up with what looks like Charles Manson’s letters from jail:
(I promise I’ll have better pictures for my other entries. My wife’s a photographer for Pete’s sake!)
When I’m done writing and frightening dog-walkers, I take my script outlines back home and get started on putting pencil to paper. That’s Step 2. That’ll be coming up soon.
