Last time out I mentioned the word widescreen, so let’s expand on that. When I use the word widescreen I’m thinking movies with huge, elaborate set pieces: massive explosions, CGI pyrotechnics and breakneck chases, the kind that you’ll remember long after the end credits have rolled. I’m thinking five-mile long alien spacecraft looming over the Empire State Building. I’m thinking Tom Cruise clinging on to the top of a high-speed train as it hurtles towards a tunnel. I’m thinking Bruce Willis in a stained vest blowing shit up.
But here’s the thing: it’s really difficult to achieve widescreen in comics. There are some artists who are pretty damn good at it (and in this context Stuart Immonen on Nextwave is GOD, let me tell you) but most fall short and stick to what they know best, which is usually on the level of Spider-Man executing a sub-Gil Kane double twist whilst The Rhino slams into a wall in a 2 inch by 3 inch panel mostly obscured by a sound effect. In the last column I gibbered on about how a fanfic writer has to do the job of the artist as well as his or her own, but here’s the flipside to that equation: a comics writer has to rely on the artist to bring their vision to life, and more often than not the end result just isn’t going to be able to intensity or the scope of what they were hoping for. You don’t have that problem, because you know what? Prose doesn’t have pictures, but it also doesn’t have limitations. No SFX budgets, no stunts that can’t be performed, no restriction on location or situation. In short, the fanfic writer can do whatever he or she wants. It’s a shame, then, that this is so easily forgotten.
I’ve lost count of the times where I’ve been reading a story that’s just crying out for a spectacular set piece but which is instead content to have Character A and Character B exchanging punches and one-liners in Generic Location C for 500-1000 words, with nothing more extravagant than the hero getting slammed against a wall or two. I’m not advocating that stories should be all-out action, far from it – I’m all for talking heads and character development, and I’ll be exploring this aspect in another topic. But we’re not writing fanfic about octogenarian newsreaders or school trips to the zoo. This is comics fanfic, with superheroes and supervillains, and the action scenes are invariably at the crux of the narrative. Give those scenes an injection of impetus and the entire story benefits.
I believe there are three things to remember when crafting a widescreen action extravaganza. First of all, consider your environment: experiment with location and surroundings, set your scene, and then tear it down with combat, gunfire, bloodstorms and explosions and whatever the hell else you can imagine. Think other countries and landscapes, such as deserts, oceans and jungles. If your hero is stuck in the city, don’t have them fight in a warehouse for the thousandth time, try and come up with somewhere new. And don’t feel you have to be static. Most heroes and villains are mobile, have their fight start at point A and then work their way to point B, incorporating different settings in-between.
Secondly, consider consequences. What are the results of those aforementioned explosions? All-out carnage, that’s what. Cars and buses are great for city brawls – have your villain hurl vehicles at crowds and describe the devastation that spawns all about them. If you’re in Egypt, blow up pyramids. If you’re in the Andes, raze an ancient temple to the ground. Whatever. But, all the while, describe not only the actions of your characters but the consequences of what they’re doing; if The Scorpion slams Spider-Man into a department store window, don’t forget to illustrate the fear and panic of all those fleeing from the rain of shattered glass or to have limbless mannequins littering the streets, or the sound of alarms and sirens and screams. Throw everything into the pot.
Lastly, and most importantly, establish your momentum and then keep building. Momentum is the key to everything, be it a fight or a cross-city chase or a race against time to defuse a bomb. Don’t have Iron Man and The Beetle standing around bitching at each other for a page and a half just so you can write smart dialogue. This is comics fiction. It may not be realistic for characters to make speeches whilst thundering along at one hundred miles an hour, but that’s the accepted form, so don’t worry about that. Just make sure your characters are never static, even if they’re trading quips; have Spider-Man make a joke, fine, but do it whilst he’s executing a backwards somersault to save a little girl with a teddy bear from a pumpkin bomb, and in the next breath have The Hobgoblin cackling and cursing whilst screaming off at high velocity on his smoking glider towards the roof of the building where his hostages are dangling from ropes five hundred feet above the street. How can Spidey save six potential victims at the same time whilst avoiding the hail of bullets from circling police helicopters and a flurry of pumpkin bombs and… etc.
Next time you write a story, set yourself a challenge: write a central set piece within your tale of approximately 1,000 words. This set piece has to be something that stretches your imagination, and can be as outrageous and overblown as you like, but there’s one key component to keep in mind throughout – your central hero cannot stop moving for a single moment. No static dialogue, no internal monologues, just forward thrust from start to finish, preferably to prevent some terrible and dramatic endgame on the part of a villain. I’d hazard a guess that this approach will generate a certain level of excitement you’ll want to repeat again and again.