Guidelines For New Comic Book Writers From A Guy Who Has Seen It All

Posted in: Ahoy, Comics | Tagged: kickstarter, Mark Russell, Russ Braun, Tom Peyer

Guidelines For New Comic Book Writers From A Guy Who Has Seen It All

Guidelines for beginning comic book writers from a guy who has seen it all and then some

Published Thu, 11 Jun 2026 09:57:10 -0500
by Rich Johnston
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Tom Peyer started his comics career with a satirical comic strip called Sideshow in the Syracuse New Times, which rann between 1978 and 1990, before joining DC Comics as an assistant editor before becoming a freelancer, writing comics such as Legion of Super-Heroes, The Atom, The Simpsons, and becoming part of the Hive Mind creators with Grant Morrison, Mark Millar and Mark Waid. He is particularly known for his 1999 revisioning/revival of the Golden Age superhero Hourman and as becoming Editor-in-Chief of Ahoy Comics, an independent publisher known for creator-owned titles with a mix of humor, sci-fi, and superhero stories, where he now works. And it is in that capacity that he addresses you all now as Ahoy launches its first Kickstarter for The Forgotten Divine, a satirical science fiction drama from Mark Russell and Russ Braun. As Tom Peyer has written a pithy guide entitled "How to Write Comics, Sort Of" alongside it for Bleeding Cool.

1. Some Guidelines For Beginning Comic Book Writers. Early in my career, I violated nearly all of these. I want to spare you that shame. Some of them might seem too obvious, but you'd be surprised. You'll probably find good reasons to disregard a lot of them, but probably not right away.
2. Pity The Reader. Start your story quickly, not slowly. A writer with a loyal following might get away with taxing the reader's patience and goodwill. But if you're not there yet, don't presume they're interested. Get them to be.
   Your captions and dialog might need about half as many words as you think. There is a sweet spot where dialog can be concise and natural. You'll find it. Try to keep individual balloons to 20 or so words, and no more than two (or three shorter ones) in a panel.
   But don't write it like a coloring book, with one balloon or caption per picture. The back-and-forth rhythm of an exchange, the way a line of dialogue can be cut short in one panel and resume in the next—these are essential to well-paced comic.
   The last panel on a page is not just any panel. It contains at least a suggestion of suspense or resolution, a reason to read the next page.
   Reserve your big visual surprise for panel one of a left-hand, even-numbered page, so they don't see it until the second they turn the page.
   To me, a first issue should not just set up the situation but give the experience of it. By that I mean if Lost In Space were a comic, many writers would end the first issue with the epic climax of the Robinsons' craft getting, well, lost in space. But a better comic might make it happen by page 10, so we can experience the family's nail-biting predicament from the first issue onward. I once read issue #1 of a miniseries about the meeting of two hugely famous characters from different franchises. And do you know what didn't happen in that first issue? They didn't meet. Yet the publisher charged full price.
3. Pity The Artist. Write good pictures. Nobody broke into comics to draw office furniture. Instead of the executive suite, can your evil conspirators meet on a Ferris wheel, or a space station?
   PANEL ONE: POPEYE ENTERS A ROOM AND SITS DOWN. That's two panels. We can't do two actions in one picture. I know that seems obvious but again, you'd be surprised. I think I still do this sometimes. Anyway, when describing actions, think of "and" as the worst swear word.
   An artist once told me that the ideal comics page—the most manageable to effectively design— has five panels. Four is good, too. There is no limit, but I'd like you to start feeling a little bit bad when you type "Panel Six," worse for "Panel Seven," and self-hating for "Panel Eight." When we're new at this, we like to cram a lot in, but we often try to cram too much.
   Of course, nine-panel grids exist. But if you use one, stick to simple shots and sparse dialog and they'll probably fit.
   If you write an epic shot of Manhattan Island rising to the sky and, for some reason, you must have more panels on the same page (you mustn't), write an easy-to-draw close-up or two. Let's not work artists to death. And be aware of how little fits comfortably on a page.
4. Pity The Letterer. Don't write so many words that you force the letterer to cover important details in the art. They really don't want to do that.
   Gently remind your artist to leave enough balloon space, and to place the characters roughly in the order they're speaking.
5. Pity The Colourist. Mention whether it's day or night.
   If something or someone has to be a certain color, ask the colorist up front.
   It's better to ask a colorist to make something vibrant than to make it red. Leave room for your collaborators' creativity.
6. Pity Yourself. You are the only person on the creative team who has to face a blank page. This makes you a tragic figure. Go ahead and feel bad.
   A pampered, highly-paid screenwriter can tell us that two people are sitting at a table in a cafe, then write five pages of dialogue. You have to come up with a new image every 30 or so words of dialogue. This is no way to live.
   Space is your enemy. There is no room for the number of balloons you want in a panel, the panels you want on a page, the pages you want in a story. Imagine living under a curse that makes you an enemy of something so fundamental and necessary as space. Does oxygen hate you? Does gravity? Writing comics will make you feel that it's only a matter of time. Which is also your enemy.
   When possible, plan some room in your story for improvisation. You'll get more brilliant inspiration in the weeds of the story than when you're writing an outline.
7. Above All, Pity The Editor (Me) Either write your panel descriptions all-caps and your dialog upper & lower case, or vice-versa. This way I can easily skim dialogue.
   Take some time to trim your panel descriptions. When we write comics we're thinking as we go, and it's easy to over-explain. I once picked up Paradise Lost to procrastinate on reading a windy script. Yes, in that moment, Paradise Lost felt easier. (It wasn't.)
   Be sure of which descriptive details really matter. Do her shoes really need to be brown?
   And maybe you ask for brown shoes and they come back red. Stick up for yourself, but be open. Let's agree on the effect we're trying to create and understand there are probably 1,000 ways for us to accomplish it together.

As to The Forgotten Divine…  Meet Rodney Coleman, an unhoused veteran whose sleep is haunted by dreams of a faraway planet. (At least, he thinks they're dreams.) Soon Coleman connects with others plagued by dreams of the same world and finds himself at the head of a UFO cult. The group's shared effort to understand their visions is heartfelt at first—but over time it descends into unreality, conspiracy, paranoia, violence, and conceivably… revelation.

"The Forgotten Divine is about why people join cults, assign meaning to mysteries, and find comfort in their own persecution," said writer Mark Russell. "I feel like we can all either relate to these characters or see someone we know in them. We're all looking for our Forgotten Divine." "The Forgotten Divine is a challenging story, both to read and to draw," said artist Russ Braun. "The subtleties involved in the storytelling required a lot of thought; the slow evolution, ramp up, and ultimate impact is a testament to Mark's writing. Visually, we got to put some stuff out there that hasn't been seen before and that's always a blast for me. We took some risks, but I think AHOY, Mark, and I are known for that and it definitely paid off." "We've always promised our readers they could Expect More from our line of comic book magazines featuring comics, prose fiction, poems, cartoons—and Kickstarter lets us deliver more More," said Editor-in-Chief Tom Peyer. "It gives us the absolute freedom to make a book that's as jam-packed and utterly excessive as our wildest dreams will allow. Plus, by supporting the Kickstarter, you're playing an active part in making said book a reality and increasing the story's visibility, helping us guarantee that it'll hit comic shops and bookstores. Man—you're kind of a hero, aren't you?"

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