My name is Jennifer, and I’m writing a graphic novel.
People have asked me—well, actually just the voice in my head has asked me—“Jennifer, why are you doing that? Yeah, I know it’s the trendy thing to do, but you’re no Dean Koontz or Janet Evanovich. People have actually heard of them. And your first foray into comics storytelling wasn’t exactly feted. And don’t you have a real novel you should be working on?” The voice speaks the truth, but, as always, it doesn’t speak the whole truth.
It is true that more and more often famous prose authors are trying their hand and graphic novels (often with the help of professional comics writers, who turn their stories into scripts), but it’s still a medium where talented new writers and artists can find a place. While the scope and size of the industry is expanding, it’s still a relatively small section of publishing, so if you create a stand-out work, there’s a greater chance of it finding its audience.
And it is true that about five years ago, my first comic story (with art by my husband, Brian Belew) was published, in the Image Comics anthology Put the Book Back on the Shelf: A Belle and Sebastian Anthology. It was based on the Belle and Sebastian song “The Model.” The most prominent review of the anthology singled my story out as a failed narrative. “But—but—” the voice sputtered, defensive rather than doubtful this time, “the guy dressed as Mozart playing the harpsichord in the background references the harpsichord opening of the song! You set it in a converted church because Belle and Sebastian lead singer Stuart Murdoch lived above a church hall! And the masquerade ball shows that the story is about the masks we wear as identities. Brian used large, tall panels to emphasize the protagonist’s feelings of smallness and isolation! It’s not like you didn’t know what you were doing!”
Yes, voice, yes. You speak truth, but you also know that what writers intend isn’t always clear in what they create. (And, also, voice—that was five years ago. Let go, already!) However, my string of questions about my story shows just why I do want to write comics. They are a way of storytelling that is different from prose, one where you have to consider the visual impact of the narrative. That’s something I knew, but perhaps didn’t deliver as well as I could have then. I know what the challenges for me are—those that don’t exist when I write what the voice calls “real” novels (though we both know that graphic novels are just as “real” as prose ones). How do you weave meaning into images? How do you convey inner life without relying too much on blocks of text or thought balloons? How do you, when you’re just a writer, communicate with the artist to achieve the effect you want?
You’d think as an editor, I’d know all this. But transitioning between evaluating someone else’s work and writing my own has proven a shift in perspective that makes it hard to focus. I keep going over my outline, questioning my judgment, and, now that I’m finally settling in with the script, hoping that I have learned from what I’ve done before. And that “real” novel the voice is hounding me about? Well, I’m working on that, too.
(I have also written a story, drawn by Brian Belew, in Image Comics’ anthology This Is a Souvenir: The Songs of Spearmint and Shirley Lee, if you want to check it out.)
