symbolic 61: panels
One of the great things about comic books is that they are both narrative and visual. And, when you talk about the floppies, they are serial adventures -- chunks of a larger story that are meant to be digested in a short space of time. You have 22 pages to hook your reader, advance the meta-story, and leave 'em wanting more. Not unlike a chapter in a novel when you get right down to it.
The visual aspect of the medium means you have to give thought to each panel, each instant of time which you want to freeze, and I think this is one the great benefits of the comic script. It makes you think in image snapshots; it makes you compose visually. You have to turn that all into words, but as an exercise in visualization, it is a great way to lay down some framework for the work.
PAGE 1. The page is broken down into three full-page horizontal panels in a 25%, 50%, 25% split.
PANEL 1. Night. Heavily wooded area. There is a haze in the air, a miasmic remnant of a recent fire. Some of the trees on the edge of the panel were too close to the fire and are twisted and black.
CAPTION: I DON'T HUNT PEOPLE.
PANEL 2. A clearing in the forest used to contain a farmhouse and pair of out-buildings though all three have recently been burned to the ground. The frame of the buildings, though they have been twisted by the fire. One of the outbuildings had metal struts in it and the melted and fused shape looks vaguely like the shattered ribcage of a dead animal.
PANEL 3. A dark-haired man stands in the shadow of a burned tree and examines the ruins in the clearing. He is clearly uncomfortable with the setting. This all seems wrong to him.
CAPTION: THIS WAS A FAVOR FOR A FRIEND.
PAGE 2. Six panel layout -- two across by three rows.
PANEL 1. A room lit by yellow light (in direct contrast with the cold and bleak colors of the burned clearing). The dark-haired man --MARKHAM -- is listening to VIRGIL DELACOURTE, a slight fellow whose upscale wardrobe can't hide the fact that he is a died-in-the wool code geek.
VIRGIL: I KNOW THIS ISN'T WHAT YOU DO.
VIRGIL: BUT YOU ARE GOOD AT FINDING THINGS.
PANEL 2. MARKHAM hasn't moved. VIRGIL is pleading his case.
VIRGIL: WE DON'T KNOW WHERE HE HAS GONE.
PANEL 3. MARKHAM kneels near a piece of burned wood in the clearing. The terrain has been pretty chewed up by the volunteer fire department which responded to the fire. The ground is muddy and the half-buried log is black with char.
PANEL 4. The yellow room again. VIRGIL and MARKHAM as PANEL 1.
MARKHAM: I'M IN THE ANTIQUE BUSINESS. YOU KNOW THAT.
MARKHAM: I'M NOT A BOUNTY HUNTER.
PANEL 5. The yellow room. VIRGIL's attention is turned towards someone off-screen.
(OS): WE DON'T WANT A BOUNTY HUNTER. WE WANT SOMEONE WE CAN TRUST.
PANEL 6. Another angle on the yellow room. Standing behind Virgil is a slender woman with short black hair. This is LIZ KIMBREL.
LIZ: WE JUST NEED SOMEONE WHO KNOWS HOW TO FIND THINGS.
PANEL 7. Yellow room. On MARKHAM.
MARKHAM: PEOPLE AREN'T THINGS. THEY TEND TO SLIGHTLY TO BE MORE...
MARKHAM: ...MOBILE.
PANEL 8. The ruined farmhouse. MARKHAM has entered the burned structure. He is standing close to a ruined wall, leaning forward as if he is smelling the soaked and burned wood.
PANEL 9. Close-up of MARKHAM's face. He is smelling the wood. The collar of his leather coat is open enough that the white band of braided hair about his neck is visible.
PAGE 3. Six panel layout -- two across by three rows.
PANEL 1. The ruined farmhouse. MARKHAM doesn't like what he smells.
PANEL 2. MARKHAM POV towards the sky from inside the farmhouse. The black ridges of the ruined walls are like fingers against a grey sky. If it isn't raining already, it's going to start soon.
CAPTION: THIS IS GROUND ZERO OF THE GPS READING I WAS GIVEN.
CAPTION: THE FIRE HAPPENED FOUR NIGHTS AGO.
PANEL 3. Aerial shot of the yellow room, looking down on LIZ, VIRGIL and MARKHAM.
CAPTION: A DAY BEFORE THEY CAME TO ME.
PANEL 4. The yellow room. Close-up of LIZ. She is clearly agitated and worried.
LIZ: WE THINK WE'VE DISCOVERED SOMETHING. JACK WENT TO CHECK.
LIZ: HE CALLED IN EVERY NIGHT. UNTIL THE NIGHT BEFORE LAST.
PANEL 5. The yellow room. LIZ has come closer to the table, standing behind VIRGIL. MARKHAM'S POV towards VIRGIL who is shrugging his shoulders.
VIRGIL: CELL RECEPTION IS SHIT OUT THERE. IT COMES AND GOES.
VIRGIL: WE DIDN'T THINK MUCH OF IT AT FIRST.
PANEL 6. As panel 5.
VIRGIL: JACK DOESN'T LIKE LANDLINES. TOO MANY EARS.
VIRGIL: YOU KNOW? TOO MANY PEOPLE LISTENING.
PANEL 7. The yellow room. Focus on MARKHAM.
MARKHAM: WHO?
PANEL 8. LIZ's expression to VIRGIL says: "Do you trust him?" VIRGIL's unspoken response: "We need to tell him."
PANEL 9. The ruined farmhouse. MARKHAM is crouched near the base of what is left of the front door to the farmhouse, examining the floor. He wipes away the soot and crap to reveal a piece of stone that has inscribed symbols in it.
CAPTION: THEY WANTED MY HELP BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T KNOW WHAT THEY HAD FOUND.
CAPTION: THEY WERE HOPING THAT I DID.
writing
This is a reasonably comprehensive list of my published work, both virtual and physical.
THE MISFIT LIBRARY
I am Nine of Thirteen, one of the members of the Misfit Library, a writing collective which puts out a quarterly journal of our respective work. We are scattered across the globe and determined to change the face of the planet one story at a time. The link above will take you to Misfit Central where you can acquire copies of the journal as well as read exclusive online material.
SYMBOLIC
I wrote a column for OPi8.com's Transmit blogs: journals of the new dark underground. SYMBOLIC tracked the novel I was working on, referencing the process and the research materials which mad up the backbone of the work. In addition, SYMBOLIC busied itself with ruminations and considerations on the nature of language and communication. And a wee bit of mythology. The first 100 entries of SYMBOLIC can be found here on this site as well as at OPi8.com.
LITERARY REPRESENTATION
I am represented by Scribe Agency as my literary agents. Please contact these gentleman if you have any queries about my work.