In the last installment, I left you hanging at
the beatsheet. (Didn't read the previous installment?
Go! Go now! We'll wait for you.) A beatsheet is basically an outline, detailing the major story "beats" in an issue.
Some writers whip out something quick and dirty; others (I've heard) go nuts with detail. I land somewhere between the two extremes. To me, the point is to show your editor what you have in mind, and what will happen on each page. Broad strokes, but with some level of detail that will reassure the editor that, yes, you have thought about this at some length, and you're not just pulling it out of your ass a few minutes before deadline.
I usually break it down into scenes, starting with how many pages I think it'll take. For instance (from my beatsheet for Immortal Iron Fist #19):
[3 pages]
New York City. Now.
Danny suits up into his Iron Fist gear and speeds across the city, leaping over rooftops, through buildings—all of that cool shit.
Danny and Cage meet outside the school. Danny looks down at his fist, which is flickering out. “He’s here.”
And then—
Out of the shadows, dozens of screaming children attack. Danny’s own students. But they’re mesmerized, just like the West Texas townsfolk were mesmerized, and the San Francisco strikers were mesmerized. It's just a rough idea of what'll happen on those pages. If you've read
Iron Fist #19, you'll see that these pages play out differently. That's because when I reached the scripting stage (and revision stage), I let the story open up, and tried to listen to my characters, instead of forcing them into my little beats. But again, at this stage, it's still broad-strokesville.
I'll throw in a little dialogue, just to give my editor a little variety. Dialogue is easy to read; I used to be an editor, and know what it's like to slog through graph after graph of narrative.
My beatsheets tend to be 1,000 words or so, sometimes a little longer. (I just checked the most recent beatsheet I turned in, for
Punisher: Frank Castle #69: it was 1,025 words.)
The page counts are my best guesstimate. Sometimes, in the heat of scripting, I'll want to open up an action scene so the artist can go crazy. But again, all the page count does is tell your editor that yeah, you thought about pacing, and here's how you see it playing out.
Interestingly, I don't outline (or beatsheet) my novels. With
The Wheelman and
Severance Package especially, I was just winging it. Outlining tends to kill the fun for me.
But in comics, I find it
essential. (And other comic creators I've met over the past year say the same thing.) I once tried to wing a script without doing a beatsheet, and it was like baking a cake without flour: the thing just fell apart in my hands. Even if I end up changing a lot of what appears in the beatsheet, I still have to go through the process.
Imagine there's a hunk of clay in front of you. You work it until the thing vaguely resembles a human being. Yep, there's the head, the torso, the arms and legs. Got it all in front of you, right? But now it's time for the fine details, to really make this thing look real--the shape of the eyes, the thickness of the fingers, the muscles of the legs. The things that will make people stop and enjoy your work.
Well, consider the beatsheet to be the
vague human shape. The next part, of course, is
the scriptwriting, which we'll hit in the next installment. Check back soon...
Here's a reference photo I took a few years ago for the artists working on both Punisher: Six Hours to Kill and Werewolf By Night: In the Blood. I needed a Philly-area torture complex for the Punisher, and I also needed a place where Jack Russell could keep his giant werewolf-proof panic room. Feeling a little whimsical, I decided to use the same building -- the William Cramp & Sons Ship and Engine Building Company, down by the mighty Delaware River -- for both. Just imagine: Frank and Jack, crossing paths under a moonlit Philly night! (Below: Michel Lacombe's original art, showing the Punisher leaving the building.)
