Chapter Five

Writing the Script

(cont'd)

ONE PANEL, ONE MOMENT IN TIME

My basic philosophy is that the script (and plot, if plot-first) should provide the artist with
everything he or she needs to tells the story and everything the editor needs to understand what is
happening and why. I am a big believer in brevity when it comes to the full script. I don't go
overboard in details that are not germane to plot points. I know artists that will take pens to
scripts, crossing out anything that isn't key to what they have to draw. I can't say that I blame
them. Quite honestly, very few people will have the opportunity to read my scripts for the sheer
pleasure of it, so I don't overwrite (although humorous asides to the editor and the artist are fair
game). Besides, keeping it a little looser means that the artist has more room to contribute, and
that's a good thing. The more involved the artist is in the storytelling process, the more inspired
and invested they become. It's good for the working relationship.
For now, let us concentrate on the general concept of each panel distilling one moment in time.
My approach to writing a comic book story is that every panel contains at least one key beat.
Sometimes it is an important action. Other times it might be an important piece of dialog or even
a reaction shot.
When I start actually writing the script, I begin with the beats. That speeds up my writing time
because I can move from beat to beat, panel to panel fairly quickly without pausing to think
about how to write the elements around the beats.
So, if I'm working on an action scene, I will write the choreography of the fight scene first, then
go back in to write the dialog later. The reverse is true--if I'm dealing with a dialog-heavy scene,
I will write the dialog first, determining how I want the conversation to flow. Then I'll go back to
fill in the panel descriptions. This helps me keep moving forward and not getting bogged down
in the details.
I also don't always write sequentially. To keep my juices flowing, I might write pages twelve
through sixteen first because I have a clear picture in my head of how I want the scene to play
out--I'll work this way especially if there's another portion that I'm having trouble writing. Rather
than getting caught up in what's not working, I concentrate on what is. That often helps me break
any creative logjam.
In writing the panel description, keep in mind that there is a limited amount of space on the page
and within a panel. If you are writing a nine panel grid, it's not going to work to ask to have the
entire population of Brooklyn in each of the nine panels. They just won't fit and you'll drive your
artist to fits.

I try to keep my panel descriptions in the active verb tense. It helps convey the action to the artist
and makes the manuscript easier to read for both the artist and the editor. Passive tense makes
your manuscript feel wishy-washy and you don't want to dampen the artist's enthusiasm
subconsciously through poor word choices. There are times when passive, past tense are
appropriate, but it's usually to set up what is happening now...
PANEL FOUR
CAPTAIN WINGNUT, having just jumped over the speeding car, looks over his shoulder,
wondering where the next attack may come from.
In the example above, "having just jumped" is past passive tense, describing what just happened
(probably in the previous panel). The active verb in this description is "looks" over his shoulder.
That is what is happening now (one moment in time). The clause "wondering where the next
attack may come from" tells the artist what CW's frame of mind is, and helps indicate what CW's
body language should communicate to the reader.
The description of the panel must include everything that is integral to the story--the characters,
the action, notes about leaving room for sound effects and dialog (especially important when
working plot-first. The full script would include the copy and the artist should allow for it).
Except under specific circumstances, do not ask for characters to undertake multiple actions,
especially contradictory actions in a single panel. For example:
PANEL FOUR
GRIM GIRL grabs the parachute out of EVIL BASTICH's hand, slings it over her shoulder, and
jumps out of the plane while firing her flare gun.
That's way too much action to fit into a single panel. It's a minimum of two panels (1. GRIM
GIRL grabs the parachute out of EVIL BASTICH 's hand. 2. GRIM GIRL slings the parachute
over her shoulder, and jumps out of the plane while firing her flare gun), and you're probably
better off with three.
There are exceptions to this theory. In a large panel or a splash page, you could treat a
complicated action as a series of steps. In this case, the background remains static while the
action moves across the panel. For example:
PANEL ONE
This panel takes up the entire top third of the page. SPEEDCHICK dashes along the street,
taking out the horde of villains. We see multiple images of Speedchick as she punches VILLAIN
ONE in the jaws, kicks VILLAIN TWO in the gut, throws VILLAIN THREE into a trash can,
and pulls VILLAIN FOUR out of a car at the curb.

In this case, we've put all the action in a single long panel and it helps underscore that
Speedchick has superspeed. The static background here also helps create the sense that this is
happening very quickly--that all this action is taking place in one moment of time.
There are occasions where there are two beats in a panel, a punch thrown while something is said
or someone reacts. The thing to keep in mind is to not ask for too many beats or contradictory
actions in a single panel.
Another exception to the single beat theory is a montage. A montage is a collection of images in
a single panel/frame. In some cases, you can use this to create the sense of "meanwhile":
characters A and B are undertaking an action in one location while characters C and D are doing
something else in another place. You have linked these two sets of characters together visually
within the same composition, giving the illusion that things are happening concurrently
You can also use a montage to compress time: Lovers E and F are seen in various locations
around town, sharing ice cream, walking in the park, window shopping, watching a child with
her mother. This tells us that E and F have spent quite a bit of time together.
PACING
You control the pace of your story by the amount of action that happens in the time between
panels.
(And, just for the record, I'm a big believer in gutters between panels. They help separate
moments in time and make it easier to read comic pages. There are times when just a thin line
can be useful to indicate a group of moments that happen simultaneously or in rapid succession,
but with today's computer coloring and the use of heavy blacks or deep colors in the gutters,
comic pages have become very difficult to read. This is just one of the many things that may hold
new readers back--if they can't fathom what's happening visually and can't tell how to decode a
comics page, they aren't likely to try. Copy placement can help overcome this problem, but it's
only part of the battle.)
So, to demonstrate my point about the passage of time between panels, let me use two
examples...
Fast pacing:
PAGE ONE
PANEL ONE
Exterior. Beautiful sunny afternoon. SUPERGUY takes flight outside his parents' home in
Charleston, North Carolina. This is a low angle shot to make Superguy look powerful.
PANEL TWO

SUPERGUY, in flight and coming right at the reader, leaves Earth's atmosphere. We can see the
Atlantic Ocean and the continents in the background.
PANEL THREE
SUPERGUY comes to a landing on the moon. We can see the Earth distantly in the background.
PANEL FOUR
Etc.
The entire trip happened between the two panels and moves the story at a fast clip. It implies that
the time it took Superguy to get from Charleston to the moon is negligible.
Notice that I set time of day in the first panel. If Superguy's parent's house was a common setting
for the series, I would leave the description at that, assuming that the editor or the artist would
have reference. If it's someplace we'd never seen before, I would go into more detail about the
look of the house. If it was something last seen fifteen years ago or I had a specific look in mind,
I would try to find reference to send with the script to help the artist.
I also called for a low angle shot because I wanted to convey power. I generally do not call for
specific "camera angles" in most panels. Again, this is to allow the artist maximum freedom to
bring his or her style/voice to the story. When I do call for an angle, it's for dramatic purposes. If
you minimize the number of specific shots you call for, you increase your likelihood of the artist
accommodating your requests when you do ask for something special.
In the second panel, I specified a specific layout. I definitely want to have Superguy flying at the
reader with the Earth in the background to set up the image in the third panel where I ask for the
distant Earth in the background. I did this to give a sense of the amount of space traveled.
You could further speed up the pacing by cutting out the second panel altogether.
Another element that would affect the pacing in this sequence is the amount of copy. If Superguy
was doing a lot of thinking while in flight or I used a lot of caption boxes to describe what was
happening, the reader would have to slow down to read the text.
So, the amount of action that happens between panels and the amount of text within the panels
themselves are the two most significant elements that control the pacing of the story.
Slow pacing:
PAGE ONE
PANEL ONE

Long shot. Late afternoon. Busy metropolitan street. CONNOR (a professional lawyer in her
mid-30s) dashes out of the courthouse, late for an appointment. She is in a well-tailored suit.
PANEL TWO
CONNOR tries to hail a taxi that goes right by her. There are PEOPLE walking by on the
sidewalk. She looks exasperated.
PANEL THREE
CONNOR tries to hail another taxi that goes by her. DIFFERENT PEOPLE are on the sidewalk
passing by. By this time, her clothes are looking a little disheveled and her shoulders are stooped.
She's been on this curb for fifteen minutes trying to get a cab to stop.
PANEL FOUR
Another five minutes have passed. A taxi has finally stopped for CONNOR. She gets into the
back seat.
PANEL FIVE
Largest panel on the page with room for an inset panel. Long shot. The taxi is at a full stop,
trapped in traffic on a busy city street. It's obvious that it will not be able to move any time in the
near future.
PANEL SIX (inset panel)
This panel is inset into panel five. Close up of CONNOR looking defeated, realizing there's no
way she'll ever make it across town to meet her client.
The sheer number of panels slows this sequence down. By pointing out that there are different
people in the backgrounds of panels three and four help denote the passage of time, as do the
descriptions of Connor's body language.
Panel five includes an inset panel. An inset panel is a panel contained by a larger panel. When I
use inset panels, it is to distill a moment or detail happening within the larger panel. In the
example above, we are seeing Connor's reaction to being trapped in the traffic jam.
Another inset for panel five could be a plank of wood with a sharp nail point out that the cab's
front tire might be about to roll over. Here you'd be showing an important detail that could not be
seen because of the nature of the composition in the larger panel. This could be used to build
tension at the end of the page, creating your end of page question (as discussed in chapter four).
Notice that I placed the paranthetical description [i.e. (inset panel)] next to the panel number.
This is useful for the artist in planning layouts. Any time there is something unusual about a
panel--especially something that has a consistent look or feel that is part of the visual grammar of

the story--I will put it in paranthesis beside the panel number. Two good examples are flashbacks
or TV screens. These both often have different borders or coloring tricks to set them apart from
the standard panels, so saying that right from the start gives the artist a quick head start.
It's a good idea to vary the pacing of your scenes so you don't fall into a cadence, become
predictable, and bore the reader. I try not to have the same number of panels from page to page
over several pages. (Although, the magic number of five panels allows for much variation in
layout which helps overcome the problem of cadence.) However, it isn't just the number of
panels on the page that affects the pacing, it's the amount of action happening between the
panels. Steve Ditko effectively used the nine panel grid without it becoming monotonous, as did
Jack Kirby with the six panel grid and David Lapham with the eight panel grid. However, they
broke the grid when they wanted extra emphasis for a particularly dramatic moment.

Plot first, or "marvel Style"

In the previous section, I talked about writing panel descriptions and the basics of pacing. From
here, it's easy to talk about the plot-first method of writing a comic book story.
When we refer to plot first or "Marvel Style", it is shorthand for a manuscript that does not
include all of the final dialog. Traditionally, it is broken down page by page, panel by panel, but
that isn't a necessity. Depending on your relationships with the editor and/or penciler, the

breakdown can be even looser. For the exposition-heavy pages or for complicated action, you
may provide panel by panel descriptions. In other cases, you might say something as simple as...
PAGES TWELVE THROUGH NINETEEN
Extended fight scene. HERO WOMAN and SUPER GUY in battle against the EVIL KNIGHT
and his FIRE-BREATHING DRAGON. The setting is an abandoned castle in a remote forest.
Because of Super Guy's vulnerability to fire, it would appear that the Dragon may slay our hero,
but once Hero Woman destroys the control gauntlet on EK's right wrist, EK can no longer control
the Dragon and the tide turns. The Dragon flies away, free once more of EK's control. HW and
SG take EK into custody. By the end of the battle, nothing is left of the castle but rubble.
Make this scene as visually exciting as possible and have fun with it!
The would be plenty for some artists from which to work, and they would enjoy the freedom it
allows. other artists are intimidated by this much freedom and really want each moment spelled
out for them. In my opinion, the more comofrtable you make the artist, the more successful the
collaboration will be. Develop a manuscript style that serves the needs you you as writer, your
editor, your artist, and most importantly, the readers. You have to make sure you convey
everything the artist will need to communicate the story on behalf of the people who have paid
good money to read your story. As important as it is to maintain a good working relationship
with your artist, you both (all) serve the audience.
PLOT-FIRST DOES NOT MEAN "NO DIALOG ALLOWED"
Even if you are not providing all the dialog for the story in your manuscript, that does not mean
you should not provide the artist and the editor with the gist of any dialog that will be included
later. Often it is imperative for the main dialog points to be included so that the artist knows how
to convey the appropriate body language for the characters.
For example, two characters saying "Hi, how are you? It's great to see you." "I'm fine. That's a
lovely frock you are wearing." are likely to have very different body language compared to two
characters having the following exchange: "What the blazes are you doing here? I never wanted
to lay eyes on you again." "The feeling's mutual, punk. I wish your cape would get caught in the
axle of a truck and rip your head off."
For particularly important conversations, it is useful to include all of the dialog, even if it's in
rough form. This helps the editor determine if the story is hanging together and the artist to know
how much room needs to be available for copy.
Here is a page from the plot to Quicksilver #13. You can read the entire plot in the sample scripts
section. This is exactly how the information was conveyed to Chris Renaud, penciler of the issue.

PAGE THREE
PANEL ONE
NESTOR tells QUICKSILVER that his name is Nestor--but does
that really tell QS anything? You have to get beyond the names
to know who a person really is. He asserts that he is QS's friend-or else he wouldn't have helped him escape from Exodus.
PANEL TWO
Close up of QUICKSILVER as he responds to Nestor's next question, "So, who are you?" Keep
Nestor off panel. Focus on Quicksilver's reaction--he really doesn't know how to answer this
question. Leave room in the lower right hand corner of the panel for a letter caption as
Quicksilver reveals to Crystal that this is a question he'd never given any thought to.
PANEL THREE
Pull back to show NESTOR and QUICKSILVER in front of the cottage. Nestor asks why
Quicksilver has come to this place.
PANEL FOUR
QUICKSILVER opens the door to the cottage, NESTOR standing right behind him. QS looks
pensive, as if trying to understand that this was once his home. Compose this shot from inside
the cabin, with QS and Nestor framed by the door. QS tells Nestor that this is where he and his
sister were born. He wonders what it must have been like for his mother on the night sure first
arrived here. The cottage should look like it has not been inhabited in quite a while.
PANEL FIVE (flashback)
This panel is how Quicksilver imagines his mother's arrival at the cottage. It is a cold, windswept night with snow in the air. The cottage door has opened. MAGDA stands outside
shivering, illuminated by the moon. She is pregnant and asks for help. BOVA is in the
foreground looking surprised by the stranger's presence. The cottage has a homey feel to it.
Leave room for captions as QS tells Nestor the story.
This panel echoes the previous panel visually in terms of composition with Magda taking the
place off QS & Nestor.
As you can see, artist Chris Renaud followed by descriptions very closely, although he did not
show the cabin in panel five as I'd described. and, to be completely honest, I think the choice he
made is much stronger give the echo he's created to panel four. By providing him with the
sample dialog, he was able to convey the body language the conversation required.

As the writer, you have to be prepared for the fact the artist will change things. Sometimes it's
because you have asked for something that simply can't be drawn as you described it. Sometimes
it's because he or she has a different vision of the panel than you described. It doesn't matter what
the reason is--you have to be prepared to roll with it. This is something that I will discuss in
greater detail in the next chapter: Writing the Dialog and Placing Copy.