Most importantly, do what you love
I basically invented Pokémon back in 1988.
I basically invented Pokémon back in 1988.
My foray into interactive fiction continues with two big projects, though I’m at liberty to talk about only one of them. For now.
For a writer who always gravitated toward long-form fiction, this novel-free span has been a breath of fresh air but also bizarre.
There are some commonalities between revising drafts of traditional fiction and interactive fiction: you add what’s missing, multiply what’s working well, and subtract what doesn’t need to be there.
Back in the early days of my Quest for Publication, I was equipped with naught but a trusty Pilot pen, a five-subject Mead notebook, and a plethora of ideas. Eventually, I upgraded to a keyboard and computer.
I’ll spare you the clichéd “Sorry I haven’t blogged in a while, but I’ve been busy” post. I’ve never met a writer who wasn’t woefully short on time. Why should my situation be any different?
Giving grammar short shrift is a surefire way to get shot down.
I know I’m not the first to tackle this topic, but there seems to be a dearth in articles pertaining to some of the more intangible qualities that, in my experience, benefit someone who wants to succeed—or simply survive—the sometimes schizophrenic lifestyle of an artist.
When a fledgling writer first takes a stab at the craft, he or she is apt to make a few fundamental mistakes. One such error is assuming that the more words one uses, the better.
If the first draft allows the writer to indulge in a carefree orgy of imagination, a Wild West of whimsy, and a devil-may-care series of experiments, then the editing process demands the writer to abstain, rein it in, and exorcise a host of demons.