Pencillers and writers share something in common: they are the only members of the food chain who begin with blank paper. Every other member of the team has some reference point to work off. A penciller can make or break a story, as the entire work will be at least initially judged by the look of the artwork and the clarity of the storytelling.

  The Mission
  Writing: Selling The Story
  Pencilling: The Dance
  Lettering: Balloons Are Round
  Inking: Satan
  The Priest Hate List

Creative Burnout
Pencillers and writers also share motivational problems. Before I can write a story, I have to clean my house. Wash my car. Oil that squeaky hinge. I've got to exhaust all possible avenues of activity, leaving only my story. Pencillers are much the same way. Getting settled to work with blank paper is an entirely different mental exercise than those employed to begin work from a reference source. Blank paper is intimidating. It's the cute girl at school, and you'll need every ounce of courage you can muster to ask her for a dance. Getting your ego stoked high enough to pick up that pencil is the prerequisite exegesis to penciling. It's the main reason a lot of pencillers blow their deadlines.

If you spend half the day trying to get motivated, chances are the muse is not visiting at the moment. The best advice I can offer is— blow the day off. Put your pencil down, call your editor and tell him or her that it's just not happening today. Then, go to the movies. Go see your mom. Go hang out. Watch Oprah. Whatever gets you off. Do anything but sit there and feel guilty because you're blocked. You'll be surprised at how much more productive you'll be the next day.

Of course, if you're blocked for more than a few days, you may have a major problem. In either case, keep your editor posted. As long as we know what's up with you, we can keep the plates spinning.

Planning
Every professional penciller in this business should keep a date book. You should be able to flip through and see what your obligations are (and when you're about to run out of work); to accurately assess what you can and cannot do. Keeping this stuff in your head will lead to over-commitment.

For pencillers, there is unemployment and over commitment, with not much in between. Unemployment scares you into over commitment. Over commitment ticks off editors (who don't get their stuff on time), so they don't call you. This leads to unemployment. It's a vicious cycle. You've got to find that middle ground: Accept the regular, scheduled work you know you can do, and snag yourself an inventory story that you can pick up and put down in between regular jobs.

If an editor negotiates a deadline (I will almost always ask you if the deadline is comfortable for you), promise you can deliver the job at least three days after you know for sure you can deliver it. In case you missed it, what I just said was LIE. LIE LIKE A RUG. Give yourself a three to five day pad. Minimum. You just never know what might come up. If you deliver "early," you're a genius, and go shooting up my "must call" list. If your cat gets run over by a bus, and you deliver the job three days after you knew you could have it done— you're on time! A star for you, and a guaranteed return gig. If you promise me something on Tuesday and I don't see the job 'till Friday, you've ticked me off and hung yourself. Missing a deadline you yourself set makes you look like a dope.

It may also help to stop thinking of what you're doing as artwork. It isn't quite artwork; it's product. Artwork you hang on a wall. Product you sell. If you approach your work with the idea that this is commercial product that will pay your rent, you'll probably have less stress in your life. It'll also make it easier for you to Tell The Story.

Technique
This includes Draw The Character. Seems silly to say, but I don't mean Interpret The Character. Draw them. Make Batman look like Batman. Use your own style, certainly, but make the characters look like themselves. Your audience, though more sophisticated than we were in 1975, has nonetheless put down cold cash for a specific product. If it says THE FLASH on the cover, draw The Flash. Veering too far away stylistically from the accepted and common interpretation of a character hurts the story. Our mind is too busy trying to accept this bizarre collection of lines as The Flash to follow along with the narrative. Keep your audience in the story. Give 'em what they paid for. Tell The Story.

Make sure you're familiar with the format you're working in. Although DC has four major formats (Standard, New, Deluxe, Prestige), the majority of my work is concentrated in the Standard. Standard sets limits on the number and type of bleeds you can do. Also, be sure you know where the ad flats are before you set up double-page layouts. And, please, unless there's a very specific reason to do otherwise, use gutters around panel and inset borders. Panels without gutters place color next to color. Makes the page look like a topical map of Europe.

The notch markings on DC drawing paper (see templates in back) are common width and height measurements. I know "common" is often read as "boring," but there's a reason why they're common. If you squeeze four tiers on a page, the height of the panels within those tiers is reduced to the point where it becomes a real challenge to fit any word balloons in it. Doesn't mean you can't do it, it just means you've got to acknowledge this limitation. Also, there's some-thing majorly amateurish about panel proportions that are too far a field of the mainstream. With rare exception, these pages can look uncomfortable and poorly thought out. This distracts your audience, taking them out of the story and centering their attention on your layout.

Your technique should be invisible. The audience shouldn't notice it. Shouldn't have to think about it. Your best effort should be employed to move the story along and enthrall your audience. The reason I hate Spike Lee movies is I'm distracted by his craft. Lee puts his craft up on the screen, and we have to pick through it to get at the story. Norman Jewison, on the other hand, is invisible. Jewison draws us in and doesn't let us go until the credits start rolling. They both make great films. Only, Lee creates media events. Jewison Tells The Story.

I am attaching Larry Hama's wonderful storytelling guide, "Wally Wood's 25 Panels That Always Work," an essential tool to both veteran and newbie pencil artists. You can download a printable  high-rez version here.

  Lettering:  Balloons Are Round