Games that break the mold
My foray into interactive fiction continues with two big projects, though I’m at liberty to talk about only one of them. For now.
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.
In an earlier post, I defined a dabbler as someone who has yet to write one million words while simultaneously implying that the one million words benchmark might be less of a milestone than a state of mind.