Marguerite Bennett: On Writing
Kat Calamia: For upcoming writers, what is your best advice for getting into the comic book industry?
Marguerite Bennett: In a nutshell? Make something small.
“But!” you say. You want to tell me about your magnum opus, you say. You love long-running series, you say, they were your inspiration, you say, look at things like The Wicked & The Divine and Y: The Last Man and Scalped and The Walking Dead, you want to write that! Do I know what such-and-such a run meant to you? You want your that, your Watchmen, your Killing Joke, your Dark Knight Returns - your Nimona, your SMile, your Uzumaki.
I know you’re gonna say that ‘cause I said all that, the year I broke in. I wanted to make my mark. I had the stories I was burning, craving, perishing to tell. I tried, again and again, to pitch and sell and tell them great big stories.
And I wasted years in the struggle.
Nobody knew me from Adam. Here I was, asking for these publishers to take a great big risk on me, to commit to a series when even the boldest and most inspired of direct market books often meet the axe in a slow season. I want from door to door to door with big ideas and long pitches and let me tell you, one sinner to another: Don’t do that.
So my advice (and let me say: y’all asked) is – don’t want that. Don’t want that yet.
Let me tell you three things.
Number One - No two folks in this industry with the same story. I spent twenty years working on becoming a professional novelist with a terminal degree from a prestigious MFA program that would allow me to teach at any university in the nation, and I wound up writing superhero comics. Nobody called that. I didn’t call that and I went through the damn process. Five years in, I still don’t 100% believe it.
Scott was a teacher. Gail Simone owned her own business. Raina Telgemeier illustrated The Babysitter’s Club. Tom King was in the CIA. Junji Ito was a dental technician. Ed Brisson worked at a nonprofit. Noelle Stevenson was an art student. Neil Gaiman was a journalist. Matt Fraction worked retail. Charles Soule was a lawyer. Kieron Gillen was a games critic. Kelly Thompson worked in an architecture firm. Tini Howard was a barista. Chip Zdarksy was a Soviet spy with 17 confirmed kills, haunted by the only mystery he can’t solve: himself.
All these folk broke in in different ways. Some writers were Marvel interns, some won writing contests, some ran websites of articles, some stalked the con circuit until they got their work into the hands of the right people – but all of them got their writing in front of someone who took notice.
So there’s the first step: Write something that can be gotten in front of someone and read quickly and competently – articles, zines, one-shots, web comics, shorts. Very nearly nobody, with their own life and own families and own work, has the time to read your 40-to-70-issue magnum opus. They do have time to read something small.
Number Two - So what is that small thing?
Well, depends on your story. I would not recommend trying to make your magnum opus into ten pages, so I would personally recommend the kind of short story that shows the reader (and, ideally, editor) that you are creative, hit emotional beats, and can execute an original story within the constraints of those very tight parameters. I will say, however, that you should write the kind of story you want to read. If you want to write grisly crime fiction, I wouldn’t suggest making a five-page all-ages story, but who knows – my background was horror prose, and I write mainstream superheroines. Brian Michael Bendis was a crime noir guy before Marvel.
Now, to the creation of the short:
“But what about an artist? I’m just a writer!”
If you can, hire an artist (and pay them for their work). If you can’t, then it’s on you to reach that audience. No artist owes you free art.
If your idea is good, you should be able to doodle it and express it. XKCD is the busiest web comic on the planet and it’s done in stick figures. A Softer World broke my heart as often as not and it was words over photos. Scribble. Doodle. Experiment. Collage. We emotionally connect to memes every day. You are better than a meme. I believe in you
So, as we all know, the internet is probably 85% bad, but it’s done wonders to get that small thing in front of people. Audrey Mok, the magnificent artist on our Josie and the Pussycats run, drew some Max Max: Fury Road fan art of the Brides that I adored so much, I urged Archie to hire her for our book.
Our community grows every year because we now have the technology to reach one another, regardless of being able to afford a hotel/flight/table/convention badge. Share. Promote. Develop sincere (not networking) friendships with those you’re coming up with. Have faith that yes, you ARE coming up. Help each other. A rising tide raises all ships, and when you break in, you can help the people who come after you. And create, create, create.
If a publisher is only interested in sci-fi, maybe don’t send them your high fantasy pitch. (Conversely, hey, a well-written story is a well-written story – while it sometimes does work, it is just not my personal advice). Make a lot of shorts. Get them out there. Hand them out at shows it you can. Disperse them online if you can’t. Interact with your community. Don’t aim your first sights on DC and Marvel – work on proving to the world that you are a good writer, first and foremost, and hone your craft until you’re able to make their editors, artists, and writers take notice of you.
This is a community. We try to support each other, promote each other, inspire, critique, assist, and celebrate each other. If you’re only in it for yourself, scrambling over your peers to try to get to that editor first, your peers are gonna notice, and you’re gonna fall like that one drunk asshole crowd surfing at a matinee concert. You’re only going to break in to this industry if you remember: the biggest thing about comics is it is collaborative.
Number Three (And Most Important) - Writers write.
Get it out of your head and onto the page. You’ll never have more time in your life than you do at this moment. Every day is a ticking clock. No else is going to do this for you. No one else can do this for you. You are your own best advocate. You are the only person in control of your decisions.
For your own sanity and satisfaction, ask yourself – when you die, what work do you want to have left behind for those who come after?
