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Tom King can talk for hours about comics, and early in conversation, he nearly does.
A quick detour into Green Lantern fandom opens the door to everything else: his love of outsiders, his belief in character over spectacle, and the creative season carrying his work into new forms.
With Supergirl flying onto the silver screen on Friday, Lanterns expanding the DC Universe on television in August, and Mister Miracle taking shape in animation, the current Wonder Woman scribe is equal parts grateful and stunned by the reach of stories he once wrote for the page.
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The comic book writer may be the herald of the summer of superheroes, but he laughs off the magnitude of the moment by returning to the ordinary.
“I gotta hit a deadline by the end of this week, and I gotta empty that dishwasher,” he says, reducing a huge Hollywood moment to a recognizable familial rhythm. In his telling, ambition lives alongside homework at the kitchen table, school concerts, and the next page due.
How Comics Became a Way In
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As a self-described kid who preferred reading in a corner to almost any group activity, King found himself drawn to heroes who lived on the margins and still rose to meet impossible stakes.
He recalls Avengers #300, purchased by his mother alongside a pack of cigarettes, as the one that changed everything. “It blew my mind,” he remembers.
Avengers #300, which came out in February 1989, tells the story of Captain America reforming the Avengers with an all-new team that includes Mr. Fantastic, the Invisible Woman, Thor and The Forgotten One.
What hooked him was the outsider’s promise inside superhero fiction. “Every superhero is, in some ways, an outsider who overcomes a dilemma to find themselves to do good,” King said.
He measured childhood labor in comics earned, stacked influences from Marvel to DC to Image, and spent years imagining stories long before he had any realistic path to a career in the medium.
He tried early. King interned at Marvel and DC while in college, then landed a first comics assignment at 20. The timing was brutal. Marvel’s financial collapse in the late 1990s ended his first foothold almost as soon as it arrived. “Sorry, kid, comics are dead,” he recalled being told. History went another direction.
'Welcome to the Nerd'
In an era where comic book movies dominate the cultural landscape, King rejects the idea of fandom as payback for old social hierarchies. He sees something warmer and more expansive in the rise of comics culture. “It’s not Revenge of the Nerds to me,” he said. “It’s like, welcome to the nerd.”
For King, comics have always offered more than a quick reading experience. They create a social world. Readers call friends after a shocking issue, argue in comic shops, trade theories online, and build lasting relationships through shared obsessions. “Every comic you buy isn’t a comic,” he said. “It’s a ticket to a community.”
Even with superhero culture now everywhere, he still sees comics as a home for people who feel slightly out of step with the world around them.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” King said, describing the message he believes the medium sends to alienated readers. “Come.”
The Art of Adaptation
The summer blockbuster Supergirl, written by Ana Nogueira and starring Milly Alcock, in many ways, sits at the center of his excitement as the film adapts his seminal, self-proclaimed "Eisner-losing" work for the screen.
King calls his 2021 comic Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow “the number one where I can just give it to somebody who's never been [into comics], and be like, ‘Welcome to the nerd.’”
King speaks about the series with the pride of someone who knows he found a clean emotional line into a modern myth. For the Eisner Award-winning scribe—he won the prestigious comic book award in 2018 for his work on Batman—Kara Zor-El's journey fully took shape once he stopped viewing her as a variation on Superman and recognized the weight she carries from Krypton itself.
“Clark [Kent] was a baby when he came to Earth, but Kara was 14 when her world exploded,” King says. “She knew Krypton, she saw it die, three times.”
From there, his way into the character opened. He describes her as someone marked by pain who still chooses hope, someone whose scars “both haunt her and define her.”
In King’s framing, Supergirl resonates because she has “been through something,” and because her heroism comes from choosing to move forward while carrying the memory of loss.
Reshaping worlds he previously inhabited may seem daunting, but King credits Nogueira and director Craig Gillespie as "amazing filmmakers who know what they're doing and know how to make brilliant art, and they're going to make their version of it."
In the face of changes to his epic for the sake of the silver screen, King is confident in Kara Zor-El's editorial adventures.
"I'm just so utterly proud of that book," he says. "I've written things that people love, I've written things that people push people the wrong way, but Supergirl is like a little magic trick. Everyone seems to dig this book."
Heaping praise on his collaborators, including Bilquis Evely, Matheus Lopes, and Clayton Cowles, he lauds the comic as a collaborative effort that exists in its own space.
The film, in his view, becomes a new collaboration, shaped through partnership with another set of artists and another vision for a different audience, as an analog to the comic, while the original remains intact.
The blockbuster-scale adaptation of some of his storytelling isn't King's highlight of the project.
What excites him most about the film is the personal touches that made it to the big screen. He lights up over the inclusion of Krypto because, as he puts it, “I’m a huge dog person.” He talks about Ruthye, a character named for his niece, with the tenderness of an uncle picturing a child seeing herself refracted through fantasy.
He also recalls a story beat suggested by his daughter during the pandemic, a moment born at the kitchen table while she was doing homework.
"Now it's going to be in a movie in front of millions of people," King beams. "Just to have her have that connection and be like, 'see what's your creativity, see what your idea did, see how much I stole from you as a child?'" he laughs, still amazed by the chain from family conversation to studio production.
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An Intimate Epic in 'Lanterns'
King carries the same character-first focus into Lanterns, and he talks about the series with the excitement of someone who knows how much mythology sits behind those rings.
King describes the series as “an intimate epic,” a phrase he returns to because it holds the scale and the closeness in one breath.
The show, he says, is “a very personal story about two men’s journeys with each other,” even as the story opens into murder, mystery and the larger architecture of the DCU. In his telling, Hal Jordan and John Stewart matter first as men in motion, each carrying a different history into the same investigation.
The critically acclaimed author speaks with real admiration about building the show alongside famed showrunners Chris Mundy (Ozark) and Damon Lindelof (Lost, Watchmen), and he clearly relishes the chance to bring Green Lantern into a more grounded register without shrinking its reach. King recalls the freedom of beginning with “two Lanterns” in Nebraska and letting the imagination widen from there.
The setup carries the shape of a detective story, with John Stewart and Hal Jordan drawn into “a dark, Earth-based mystery” in the American heartland, and King sees the contrast as part of the appeal: cosmic mythology meeting open road, small-town unease and the procedural pressure of a case.
“Art is the containment of imagination,” he says, a line that neatly explains the method.
As a writer focused on the humanity of the heroes inhabiting the colorful costumes, King is thoroughly impressed by the actors embodying the Emerald Knights.
He praised Kyle Chandler’s Hal for carrying “that combination of arrogance and yet like a grounded arrogance,” and he speaks about Aaron Pierre with equal conviction, describing in earlier remarks the actor’s “heart,” “soul” and “strength” as essential to John Stewart.
Those details matter because King approaches the duo's journey as an intrapersonal relationship story, one where veteran confidence and younger resolve push against each other long enough to generate drama, friction, and, ultimately, trust.
Crafting Characters First
Across media, King returns to one guiding principle.
“Scripts first, characters first,” he says when describing the creative environment around these projects.
In his view, animation, live action and comics all have room for the same emotional seriousness.
He credits James Gunn’s larger vision for treating superheroes as flexible enough to live in any genre, provided the writing stays anchored in what each person wants, fears, and stands to lose.
Mister Miracle may be the purest expression of that philosophy.
King is fully enveloped in the throes of the series, calling it “my entire life right now” in recent remarks and framing the original comic as one of the most emotionally exposed stories he has written.
For him, Scott Free and Big Barda—i.e. Mister Miracle and his wife—never work as icons alone. They live through marriage, pressure, doubt, survival and love, all while the universe threatens to split open around them.
When King explains how he writes heroes, he does not start with power sets. He starts with a collapse. His stories are catalyzed by the instant when a person reaches the edge, says, “I can’t do this,” then finds a way to take one more step in the face of it all.
“I’m still coming, I’m still here,” he says, describing the emotional core he searches for in every protagonist. Seen through that lens, Supergirl, Lanterns, and Mister Miracle all belong to the same conversation.
Each story asks what remains when certainty falls away and character has to speak louder than fear.
King could treat the adaptations as a victory lap, but in his reverence for the medium, he still talks like a fan who remembers what it gave him, and he still wants new readers to feel invited to the party.
“Please come inside, man, it’s cool here,” he says.
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Contact Newsweek editors on this story: Mark Muir and Yannick Demoustier.
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