“So how does a comic collaboration work?”
In talking with other creators it’s one of the biggest questions I get asked. And it’s understandable that they’re curious. We’ve made something big here; and the fact that it’s been created while balancing another full time job, and an unhealthy amount of hobbies seems impossible. And the truth is, it’s going to vary, with every project, every creator, and every work style. But here’s how I like to get the ball rolling…
The Creative Blueprint—Storyboarding
I like to start with world building.
I pick source material that gives me hints—but also gives me room. The vegetation, the animals, the climate, the terrain (‘in what furnace was thy brain?’ 😉). Figuring out what sort of environment the characters and story will move through helps me to think about the themes I want to present in that particular adaptation.
Which flows right into the next phase: “What’s the big idea?”
The source material I use is old (public domain and all), which means it typically has a huge trove of literary analysis and previous adaptations. I ignore all of it—at least at first. Instead I start with: What do I want this to be about? That becomes my anchor point, though a flexible one. Everything I do is iterative, including that core concept.
Once all these touchpoints are built, I build out arcs, moods, themes and storyboards. I take all the raw, chaotic ideas and turn them into a coherent brief for my artists— a combination of example art, hilariously rough sketches, and paragraphs describing the big ideas.
Growing the Team
Now it’s time to find some artists to work with and turn them loose right?
Wrong!
Now it’s time to “date” artists—not literally (unless that’s what you want), but creatively. I’m looking for someone who:
- Is imaginative but can still align with my vision
- Responds promptly with concept sketches
- Can handle a year-long commitment
- Is open to feedback
- And, importantly, is willing to hand off creative control where necessary
That’s a lot to ask, and unsurprisingly, finding a great long-term match can be tough.
But the responsibility is mutual. I have to be the right creative partner for them too. That means:
- Giving clear, timely, understandable feedback
- Sticking to my own direction unless I’m willing to pay for the course change
- Being receptive to their ideas and surprises
- Paying on time, every time—ideally with an advance and a delivery payment
All of this turns into a revision cycle that usually looks like:
- Brief (me)
- Storyboard (me)
- Sketch (artist)
- Feedback (me)
- Inked version (artist)
- Feedback (me)
- Color version (artist)
- Feedback (me)
- Final Draft (artist)
- Final Version (me)
- Lettering (me)
- Persnickety editing
And we ask the following questions along the way:
- Storyboard: Are the ideas cohesive? Does the sequence build correctly? What ideas are in each panel?
- Sketch: Are the ideas coming together? Is the layout working or do we need to rethink the approach?
- Ink: Do the images have the right energy? Are the characters performing their roles? Is the scene set?
- Color: Has this come together correctly? Does the mood match?
- Final Pass: The devil’s in the details. This is a place for minor tweaks, never whole cloth rewrites.
It’s a lot. If you’re doing something similar, you’ll need a system for tracking feedback, drafts, panel status, page progress, and character sheets. The tool matters less than the habit: nothing should live only in your memory.
Creating the piece
Once all the artwork is done, then we get to assemble everything into a cohesive, polished work. This includes:
- Setting page layouts and trim sizes
- Adding lettering
- Reviewing the art for inconsistencies I somehow missed earlier
- Fixing those issues (sometimes myself, sometimes by rehiring the artist)
- Writing supplemental text and bonus material
- Working with printers and dealing with color profiles
- Setting up digital distribution
- Finding physical sales channels
And probably several things I’m forgetting.
This last phase—the Build—is the one I always underestimate. It feels like an afterthought when I’m starting out, but in reality it takes 30–50% of the total time. It’s also the stage where it’s easiest to throw your hands up and quit. If you ever find yourself stuck in this stage, remember something a very wise friend once told me:
“Of course this part sucks. It’s supposed to suck. If it sucks, everything is going according to plan. So do what you have to, and find whatever joy you can along the way.”
The result
The result is—well the result is amazing. Truly. When the team comes together, and we can build upon each other’s ideas, a sort of resonance forms. The final work is something far greater than any of us could have created individually, and far more interesting than anything we could have imagined individually. Seriously, if you get a chance do a collab with someone you work well with, take it. It’s an awesome experience.