Why not start at the start?

Above, I've shared the last two pages of Chapter One, and the first two, all of which I drew this week. Why finish them out of order? Why not start at Page One on day one? I touched on it briefly in a previous post, but I was recently reminded how non-obvious this choice might be, and I don’t think I explained myself well at the time, so I’ll try to do it here.

I recently joined BUBBLE author Jordan Morris to record an episode of the podcast Marvel by the Month (it's a delight—go give it a listen if you have the least bit of interest in comics history; you don't necessarily have to be a Marvel reader). We were talking about an old issue of Fantastic Four, and I suggested that it looked like the artists (Jack Kirby and Joe Sinnott) spent as much time time on this panel of Sue Richards than they did on the rest of the issue.

Compare with this panel:

This brought up the question: does a comic artist pick and choose where to spend the most time? Does an artist spend disproportionate amounts of time on one panel versus another? How do you make that choice?

I think there was a suggestion that an artist might be able to luxuriate in the first several pages of an issue, lounging around and proceeding casually, knowing that the month's deadline would be far away. I can imagine someone working that way within the Marvel system, where comics are delivered on a monthly basis. Maybe that artist feels fresh and excited while they're working on page one, but by the time they get to page eighteen, the pressure of the deadline has become more real, and so they start working at a faster, perhaps less careful pace.

The manner of approaching this sort of task is probably as individual as each artist. I'm sure there's someone who gets assigned twenty-two pages, picks out their favourite panels, and is working on twenty-two pages concurrently. And of course there's someone who starts at page one, finishes that page, goes to the next one, and so on. Some formats, like webcomics, might demand that.

I prefer to proceed sequentially through the pages. I figure, some days I'll feel more like drawing, some days I won't. Some panels will be a breeze, some will be a slog. By forcing myself not to choose "what will I draw next," I figure I'm averaging my drawing energy across the whole book—drawing some difficult panels when I'd rather be coasting, and drawing quick, fun panels when I have a surplus of personal resources—and the complete work will look more unified as a result.

That's my number one goal: I want the entire work to look and feel "of a piece." If you notice, say, "oh, he really dashed off that panel," or "look, he must have spent twice as much time on this character than this other one," then I've failed.

Now, here's the reason I delayed the first ten pages of the book until I'd drawn the subsequent thirty: whether I like it or not, despite my best efforts, I will get Better At Drawing during as I go along. My tool use will become more adept, my understanding of the familiar characters and how to draw them will improve, and with each day of drawing my motor skills level up just a little bit. Each page adds a handful of experience points, no matter what.

Since the first pages of this chapter are the first that you, the reader, will see when they read the book, I want them to be good. I want to impress you. You are a end-level boss that I don't want to meet without significantly increased stats. I want to Git Gud working on those other pages, then come back to these first introductory pages with big drawing muscles.

This conflicts slightly with my idea that everything should feel unified, but not to a great degree. The improvement I'm talking about is noticeable to me, but will you notice it? Experience has taught me the answer is "probably not," and if you do notice, it most likely won't weigh too heavily on your attention. Besides, it's not within my control. That's just the way it works: you draw more, you get better at drawing. And I want the book to start  with the best drawing I can offer.