I apologize in advance for any incoherence and for the generally poor writing: I won't be editing this before I post it.
I just finished transcribing, onto my laptop, a fictional character's "spellbook" that I've kept in my journal over the last year. I did this just so I could have said character's repertoire on hand as I write, so that I would know the limits of what he could do at all times, and so that I would never, ever again have to worry about contradicting myself.
This is how I know I take this shit way too seriously.
It's 5am (EST), as I write this.
I've come up with a new term for this repetitive, slightly frustrating, "nuts n' bolts," world-building, type work. I call it "self"work. It's like "home" work, except you don't get graded for it unless you get published and people start giving a shit about what you do. In other words, it's hard work with only the vaguest hope of getting anything out of it, a heavy handed investment in possible future pride. Back when all this stuff was just in my head, when I was merely daydreaming, it didn't seem anywhere near as dense; but in the process of writing it down -and note this is a process, this world-building, that I formally started in '04, after giving up on another project- but in writing it down, I find myself answering one question that opens the door to at least four more. (Okay so if this spell allows him to jump up 100ft in the air does it also protect him when he lands? Or is that a separate spell? Does he know that one too? Why or why not? How does *that* one work?). And if I fail to answer these questions now I have to answer them in the heat of the moment, as I'm writing, but then I have to go back and make sure my "narrative answer" doesn't contradict anything I wrote before, because if *I* can catch it then surely some reader out there somewhere will...
I actually enjoy the process most days, the world building, the "nuts and bolts": I used to play tabletop RPGs in high school and I often got the role of Dungeon Master or Storyteller in D&D and World of Darkness, respectively. And while this world I've created is a lot closer to our own, not as much work in general (partially so that I wouldn't have to invent new cultures whole cloth, partially because I actually do love the real world and want to use it), it's the idea, the fear, that all my efforts will come to naught that cause me to get a little bit more frustrated than I typically would if, say, I was doing homework for a class (at least I'm getting graded), or a project at work (I'm getting paid... we all gotta eat). I suppose there's an argument to be made about having one's own creations sitting in front of you in some tangible manner -and I certainly *do* appreciate that, which is why I typically draw most of my characters too- but when it comes down to it I think I'm just lazy and impatient, I want something *now* for all this hard work!
But then if I volunteer to do it how hard, how bad, can it be? Anyway, if it ever really gets to a point where I can't take it anymore I'll just quit.
But that won't be today, nor tomorrow either....
I just finished transcribing, onto my laptop, a fictional character's "spellbook" that I've kept in my journal over the last year. I did this just so I could have said character's repertoire on hand as I write, so that I would know the limits of what he could do at all times, and so that I would never, ever again have to worry about contradicting myself.
This is how I know I take this shit way too seriously.
It's 5am (EST), as I write this.
I've come up with a new term for this repetitive, slightly frustrating, "nuts n' bolts," world-building, type work. I call it "self"work. It's like "home" work, except you don't get graded for it unless you get published and people start giving a shit about what you do. In other words, it's hard work with only the vaguest hope of getting anything out of it, a heavy handed investment in possible future pride. Back when all this stuff was just in my head, when I was merely daydreaming, it didn't seem anywhere near as dense; but in the process of writing it down -and note this is a process, this world-building, that I formally started in '04, after giving up on another project- but in writing it down, I find myself answering one question that opens the door to at least four more. (Okay so if this spell allows him to jump up 100ft in the air does it also protect him when he lands? Or is that a separate spell? Does he know that one too? Why or why not? How does *that* one work?). And if I fail to answer these questions now I have to answer them in the heat of the moment, as I'm writing, but then I have to go back and make sure my "narrative answer" doesn't contradict anything I wrote before, because if *I* can catch it then surely some reader out there somewhere will...
I actually enjoy the process most days, the world building, the "nuts and bolts": I used to play tabletop RPGs in high school and I often got the role of Dungeon Master or Storyteller in D&D and World of Darkness, respectively. And while this world I've created is a lot closer to our own, not as much work in general (partially so that I wouldn't have to invent new cultures whole cloth, partially because I actually do love the real world and want to use it), it's the idea, the fear, that all my efforts will come to naught that cause me to get a little bit more frustrated than I typically would if, say, I was doing homework for a class (at least I'm getting graded), or a project at work (I'm getting paid... we all gotta eat). I suppose there's an argument to be made about having one's own creations sitting in front of you in some tangible manner -and I certainly *do* appreciate that, which is why I typically draw most of my characters too- but when it comes down to it I think I'm just lazy and impatient, I want something *now* for all this hard work!
But then if I volunteer to do it how hard, how bad, can it be? Anyway, if it ever really gets to a point where I can't take it anymore I'll just quit.
But that won't be today, nor tomorrow either....