In San Francisco–based artist Emil Wilson’s The Nightingales (Avid Reader Press, Aug. 4), an affecting friendship forms between a high school senior and her father’s ailing co-worker, Jim, who comes to live with her family in the midst of the AIDS crisis. The graphic novel is “absolutely gorgeous, visually and emotionally,” according to a starred review from Kirkus. Wilson answered questions about the book via email.

What motivated you to tell this story in this format?

I was attending the Center for Cartoon Studies and needed to create a graphic novel for my thesis. I was in my mid-50s—the second-oldest student in the school’s history, twice the age of my classmates—with no interest in superheroes or fantasylands. My father was dying, and I wanted to write about something real.

How would you describe your art style?

I’ve always been fascinated by artist sketchbooks because they feel like what memory might look like if it were put onto a page: some things blurry or superimposed or half there, others sharp with intricate detail. I didn’t grow up reading comics, so I don’t naturally think in panels or word balloons. My background is in advertising and design, and I wanted to experiment with layouts that had breathing room and interesting ways to show dialogue.

In advertising, it’s important to stand out, to be singular and memorable, to surprise and delight the viewer, and to let the ideas in the creative work inform how it looks. I don’t know why a graphic novel can’t live by those same intentions. I like the idea that every story might ask something different of me visually, emotionally, or structurally.

Lou, the protagonist, is dealing with all the joys and frustrations of being a teenage girl, while learning more about the world through her interactions with Jim. What inspired her character?

If I spent too much time thinking about the fact that I’m a middle-aged man writing from the perspective of a teenage girl, I’d probably talk myself out of making the book entirely. Since the story is based on things that happened to my family—and later to me personally—I focused on the emotions and personalities I understood, trusting that would make the character feel authentic.

Later, while volunteering as a buddy for people with AIDS in New York City, I kept a journal of my experiences and conversations with men whose lives were ending far too early. Those memories eventually found their way into Lou’s interactions with Jim.

Describe your creative process for this book.

I wrote the dialogue first. Then I started drawing. Cartoonists often follow a very structured process: thumbnails, tight sketches, final inks, color. I don’t really work that way. Instead, I draw a collection of elements and assemble them on the page. I spend a good amount of time thinking about layout—how the eye moves across the page, how conversations unfold, how the composition creates emotion. From there, I layer in other materials: colored pencil, watercolor, pastel, whatever happens to be nearby.

I listen to a lot of music. Here’s a playlist of songs that helped in the book’s creation.

Who are some creators in the graphic literature world whom you’d like to shout out?

I like artists who find nontraditional ways to tell stories: Lizzy Stewart, Frank Santoro, Aidan Koch, MariNaomi. There are creators who introduce illustration techniques in ways that don’t feel like traditional comics: Nora Krug, David Fullarton, Tara Booth. There are also cartoonists I admire who are both exceptional artists and incredible writers: Lee Lai, Emma Hunsinger, Eleanor Davis, Rutu Modan, and Nick Drnaso.

What’s been especially exciting lately is the emergence of nonfiction comics and illustrated memoirs that feel personal, emotionally intelligent, and formally adventurous. Keep your eyes open for these creators: Leise Hook, Briana Loewinsohn, Dan Nott, Malaka Gharib, Kristen Radtke, Eloise Grills, Fionn McCabe, Margaret Kimball, and Thien Phan.

Nina Palattella is the senior editorial assistant.