Scribbles & Munch

      As I've been fine-tuning my presentation materials for Ohayocon, I've been thinking a lot about telling stories with pictures.  All kinds of pictures: storybook illustrations, comic books, real-life images on a screen, drawn/painted/computer generated animation, etc.  In this age of film, television, and internet, a significant portion of the human race gets it's stories - fictional and factual - with visual accompaniment.  As a story-teller, that brings up a lot of questions.
      Using images to tell stories is far from new.  The first tales were all word of mouth, of course--but surely even the earliest storytellers understood the value of dramatic body language.  And of course we know that the human race was illustrating cavern walls over 35,000 years ago.

From the Caves of Altamira in Spain.  When you consider that this pre-dates Sumerian logo-graphics by over 32,000 years, it brings new meaning to the phrase "the writing's on the wall," doesn't it?

      I'm not sure who first proffered the famous quote, "A picture is worth a thousand words," but if the human race's obsession with art is any indication, they were spot on.  Even after the invention of the printing press, pamphlets and books were still adorned with original artworks, and some of the engraving plates used for mass production were considered highly, highly valuable.  Illustrated books continue to be prized today, whether it's mass manga consumption in Japan or Caldecott Medal-winning children's books.
      But no matter how refined our still art, as a species we've been fascinated by creating movement from static figures. We used puppets, shadow lanterns, flip-books, and even ancient pottery to depict beings in motion.  J. Stuart Blackton created the first fully animated film in 1906*, he hit on an art form human beings had been dreaming of for literally thousands of years.  Go ahead, give it a watch--it's pretty funny!
      Today, animated film and television is a multi-billion dollar industry.  The work ranges from highly stylized children's cartoons to CGI so detailed it can blend in perfectly with live action.  Which means we've reached the point where any discerning storyteller needs to seriously ask the question: what's the best medium for my tale?
      For a few hundred years we've had the option of written novel versus theatrical script.  We also had to ask whether or not to include illustrations.  Then: how much illustration?  Should it be an occasional picture?  Or should the art be the dominant feature, with the words filling in the gaps?  It's amazing how much information can be conveyed in a wisp of a character's hair, or how the shadows fall.  But if you're going to draw it all out, why not take the next step, and pursue animation?  Not only can you demonstrate the evolution of a facial expression, but you can even employ the artistry of camera angles and other director's tools.  And if you decide to go that route, what kind of animation do you choose?
      For me, it's all about what feels like the best way to tell the tale.**  Thus far I've been pretty married to the regular novel format.  But I admit, one of my stories - the gold rush-era zombie novel - seems like it might be better suited as an illustrated novel.  A lot of writers will tell you that when they're thinking up a story it's like watching a movie in their head.  This is true for me, also (some of the best movies ever are the ones that happen in our own heads!), but this one...I oftentimes see it in dramatic, beautifully illustrated still-shots.
      So what is your preferred format for enjoying stories?  For telling stories?  And have you ever seen/read one where you thought, "That would be so much better as a [different media format]?"




*I know, I thought it was Walt Disney, too.  It turns out Walt created the first full length animated feature, which was "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves," and before that the first animated film with a fully produced soundtrack, which was "Steamboat Willy."

**Yes, for me...who has never published anything, and therefore never had the opportunity to employ any of these techniques.  These pointless musings are how my delusional ego sings itself to sleep at night.