Tag: writing (Page 1 of 5)

Back at the Albany Book Festival

October 4, 2021 /

It was 10:25 in the morning, my socks were quacking against my Adidas Slides with each step, I was lost between the austere granite slabs of UAlbany’s campus, and yet I recall feeling content. The Albany Book Festival was back.

To be clear, last year’s event wasn’t cancelled—it was virtual. However, I was Zoomed out, so I didn’t attend. This year was back in-person, masked and socially distant.

I brought my Special Olympics New York backpack, a pen and notebook, a packed lunch, and some cash (because one can never have too many books). I also came clad in the aforementioned socks and Slides, which was in hindsight, a poor choice.

I was aiming for comfort.

“So, are you a student here?”

I’m almost 30, and I got this question about that many times. I’m pretty sure it was the footwear.

10:35am

I slipped into the day’s first session about five minutes late. Fortunately, the back row was open and introductions were proceeding.

Three people sat at the head of the room, six feet separating them. On the left: Dana Spiotta. On the right: Ed Schwarzschild. In the middle: Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah. “I’m sitting between two of my professors,” Adjei-Brenyah said with a smile.

Albany Book Festival Sign

Despite the signage, I still managed to get lost.

I scribbled two pages of wisdom over the next 45 minutes. Aside from the parentheticals, these are direct extracts of my notes:

  • 3rd v. 1st person – Nana has both in his new book (re: point-of-view)
  • “Novel? Yeah! But short story? Where’s the novel?” (Adjei-Brenyah’s impression of agents)
  • “It’s like getting married.” (Spiotta’s comparison for writing a novel.)

I don’t quite recall what all my scribblings meant, but I’m glad I scribbled them. There’s nothing so inspiring as listening to talented writers discuss writing.

11:35am

With the opening session complete and my coffee thermos empty, I needed a bathroom. Not for the first time that day, I learned how labyrinthine UAlbany’s campus is. (Don’t worry—I ended up finding one.)

That left five minutes until the next session, which I devoted to meeting local authors in the Campus Center Ballroom. Had I acted faster, I might’ve joined the 40 or so folks tabling at the event. But hey, there’s always next year.

Inside awaited books. Books perched on platforms, books displayed on racks, books upon books upon tables arranged in concentric rings. I made the rounds and met many of the people behind those books, including Keith W. Willis, Shana Gourdine, Bill Moloney, Eleanor Kuhns, and Laura Heffernan.

Albany Book Festival Loot

My loot from the event.

(Not pictured: The Milky Way bar I devoured on my way to the next session.)

12:10pm

This panel began at 11:45, so I regrettably missed much of it. Ed Schwarzschild was back once again, this time paired with Emily Layden, author of All Girls, a novel about a New England boarding school.

My favorite bit of advice from Layden: “An editor’s job is to see your work for what it’s trying to be.”

12:37pm

Unfortunately for my groaning stomach, there was no lunch break on the schedule. So, with eight minutes until the next session, I discovered a distant table tucked beside the shadow of the Campus Center stairs and removed my mask. Time to eat.

(My meal, for the curious, was a turkey sandwich with baby carrots, saltine crackers, a banana, and a granola bar. Did not snap a pic.)

So there I sat, munching on my sandwich, watching masked people flow up and down the stairs, swinging their complimentary purple totes, consulting their programs and floor maps, chatting about this panel or that book. I eat turkey sandwiches every weekday—but that Saturday’s sandwich tasted especially good.

12:45pm

This was the first session I was on-time for. I padded lightly, reducing the squeaking of my Slides as much as possible, then chose a seat at the end of the row beside a woman knitting a purple sweater. “Are you a student?” she asked me.

Peter Osnos was the featured speaker, in conversation with Paul Grondahl. Osnos is a remarkable guy, first as a journalist covering the Vietnam War, then as an editor, now as a publisher, and always as a writer. The guy has seen some shit, and he’s met many important people along the way (some of them shitty). A short list: Robert McNamara, Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton, Barack Obama, Donald Trump, and Vladimir Putin.

Of our modern times, Osnos commented, “I think we’re living in, as we always will, a time of turmoil.” I found this statement oddly comforting. Every generation has their turmoil: The Cuban Missile Crisis, Vietnam, 9/11, the pandemic (I know I’m missing a few). Yet if we endure these turmoils, someday we’ll speak of them in the past tense.

But the best exchange went like this:

Grondahl: “You’ve been a reporter, editor, and publisher. Which is your favorite?”

Osnos: “Grandfather!”

1:45pm

“When you’re in the storm, it’s hard to describe. It’s just…life.”

I can’t recall the question that sparked this response from Quiara Alegría Hudes, but I loved it. She wore a suit jacket with pink and blue flowers, and she sat on a stage in the Campus Center West Auditorium, six feet away from interviewer Sarah LaDuke.

Albany Book Festival Stage

The stage just prior to the interview.

Hudes is perhaps best known for co-writing the musical (and screen adaptation of) In the Heights with Lin-Manuel Miranda, the guy behind Hamilton. But her career goes far beyond, with numerous other playwriting, screenwriting, and essay credits. Her current project: A memoir entitled My Broken Language.

When asked how to honor the varying cultures of the people in her book, Hudes answered, “Authenticity lies in the multiplicity of voices present.” A profound statement.

2:45pm

I rounded out the day with a talk from Elizabeth Brundage, a veteran author who’s an Albany native herself. Her new book is called The Vanishing Point, and it sounded so intriguing I picked up a copy myself. When asked about the book’s genre, Brundage said, “I don’t try to think about genre too much when I write. I just try to write a good novel.”

I dig this sentiment. Especially in the indie space, I worry some are too fixated on genre. I’ve heard far too many authors cautioning others against genre hopping and breaking conventions, when I fear that approach might lead to homogeny. After all, I can’t recall ever reading a book and thinking, Wow, I love how conventional that story was.

Anyway, I digress. Later in the session, Brundage summed up her feelings thusly: “I’m interested in people. That’s my genre. People are my genre.”

Later, I got in line to meet the author. She was personable, and she wrote a kind dedication in my book: “From one writer to another.” Of course, she must’ve seen my footwear.

“Are you a student here?” she asked.

3:30pm (Or So)

As I drove home in my 2005 Honda Element (nicknamed “The Box” by my wife), I pondered this essay. I wondered what the point would be, beyond notifying people I’d attended the Festival. I thought about masks and the pandemic, about how one year ago, this event existed only online. I thought about a sentiment I’ve heard so often, always in different forms, but always the same: Why didn’t the pandemic bring us together?

For over a year, every person on earth has had something in common. You’d think that would inspire unity, but it’s only fueled division: Masked versus unmasked, vaccinated versus anti-vax, cautious versus no-worse-than-the-flu. For many, this dissension is cause for despair.

But at a gathering as relatively small as the 2021 Albany Book Festival, I found the unity the world’s been longing for. I saw people joining together, masks and all, to celebrate our shared passion: books.

Books. Simple as that. Words printed on pages and bound together, covered by shells of cardboard, matte or gloss. Words from one person to another. Words that help us realize how much we have in common, or how little, and why there are reasons to hope either way.

My right Adidas Slide quacked as I pressed it into the accelerator. I merged onto I-90, and I headed home.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their cats, and their dog. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories that make readers laugh.

Thanks, GRRM: Lessons Learned from George R.R. Martin

June 21, 2021 /

George R.R. Martin

Whether written or read, every book is a lesson.

George R.R. Martin is one of the best I’ve ever learned from (and for more than just his gratuitous descriptions of food). GRRM’s writing has made an indelible impact on mine. So today, I’d like to share some of my favorite lessons with you.

(Be forewarned—there will be spoilers for his books!)

Lesson 1: It’s Good to Bully Characters

Though I’ve covered this subject before, it remains a tough lesson to internalize. Yet the truth is plain: It pays to be mean to your characters.

Nobody’s nastier than George R.R. Martin. He beheads poor Ned Stark in book one, murders Renly Baratheon in book two, then goes ham in book three by killing Catelyn Stark, Robb Stark, Joffrey Baratheon, and Tywin Lannister (among others).

And those are just the characters who die. The ones who live fare little better, i.e. Jaime Lannister getting his hand lopped off, Bran Stark being tossed from a tower, Daenerys Targaryen losing her son and hubby within hours of each other, and so forth.

I am almost certain Martin likes all these characters (with the exception of Joffrey). Yet he still bullies them. It’s the right thing to do.

Imagine, for example, if Martin liked Robb Stark too much to have him killed at the Red Wedding. Doing so would deprive us of one of the most shocking plot twists in modern literature—and television, for that matter. (I remember when the Red Wedding episode of HBO’s Game of Thrones aired. People could not stop talking about it.)

Bullying one’s characters means putting them in difficult situations. This forces one’s characters to be clever, courageous, and resilient; in short, it makes them more interesting. The meaner the writer is, the more momentous their characters’ eventual triumphs will be.

Lesson 2: Plan Ahead

As a kid, I dreamed of writing series. I dreamed of trilogies, quartets, quintets, whatever you call a six-book series, and more. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire is a planned seven-volume series, and it’s masterful.

Before anyone writes an angry comment, let me clarify. Martin’s series is masterful. His writing pace? Not so much.

But part of what makes the five existing books so compelling is their foresight. The more you read, the more you’ll notice that those vague prophecies and ethereal dreams always seem to come true. That’s because Martin plans ahead, and has a destination in mind.

Consider this passage from Catelyn Stark’s point of view in A Game of Thrones:

“Sometimes [Catelyn] felt as though her heart had turned to stone…”

An innocuous line when you first read it. Yet once we get to book three, when the Freys murder Catelyn and Beric Dondarrion resurrects her, she goes by a new name: Lady Stoneheart.

And that’s just a subtle example. Adding these nuggets throughout the series makes the books feel even more intertwined and interconnected. Plan ahead and reap the rewards.

Lesson 3: A Good Mystery Goes A Long Way

I’m not much of a mystery reader, but I probably should be. I always enjoy books with even a hint of the unknown. Martin has those hints in spades.

There’s the classic R + L = J equation, a long-standing theory which I won’t spoil for readers (but was confirmed in the series). Also, what the heck happened to Benjen Stark, who went ranging in the wild in book one and never appeared again? And what game are Illyrio Mopatis and Varys playing together?

I’ll stop there to preserve my word count. But you can visit the long-running Forum of Ice and Fire or the series’s Subreddit for more mysteries and possible explanations. If a series has enough enigmas to fill two websites with content, you know it must be special.

Lesson 4: Perfection is an Illusion

In second grade, I decided I wanted to be a writer. Fantasy was my genre, chiefly inspired by The Lord of the Rings. I loved the trilogy, yes—but part of me resented it as well. I’d convinced myself that no one—particularly me—could ever write anything better.

Then, 10 years ago, my dad invited me to watch a show I never heard before: A Game of Thrones. He’d heard about it somewhere and knew how much I loved LOTR. So, we watched the pilot. (Not really the type of show you should watch with a parent, but so it goes.)

Here’s a short list of the things I witness on my first visit to Westeros:

  • Nudity
  • Incest
  • Attempted child murder
  • Several creative uses of the word “fuck”
  • Characters who aren’t clearly good or evil

What blew me away was the audacity of the story. Game of Thrones took epic fantasy, a genre that celebrated heroism and the triumph of good over evil, and turned it into something far uglier—and in many ways, more compelling.

I spent the summer of 2011 watching new episodes every Sunday. The other six days of the week were spent tearing through the novels. And though it didn’t come immediately, I eventually had an epiphany: I liked A Song of Ice and Fire better than Lord of the Rings.

When you see perfection improved upon, you realize nothing’s perfect. There’s always more to be done, a higher place to climb, a better book to write. GRRM’s work helped me see past the ceilings I’d always believed were there. I doubt I’ll ever write anything better than Lord of the Rings. But if Martin could do it, it can’t be impossible.

Thanks, GRRM

Though we’ve never met, I’ve learned so much about writing from George RR Martin. I hope you did as well.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their cats, and their dog. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories that make readers laugh.

The Illusion of Effortlessness

April 5, 2021 /

talent

Jordan’s jump shot. Aretha’s voice. Shakespeare’s wit. Cage’s acting.

These people and their talents have one thing in common (except the last one—that was a joke). They all appear effortless.

As someone who loves writing, I’ve noticed this phenomenon in my chosen craft. I’m listening to an audiobook by Neil Gaiman right now, for example, and all I can think of after every story is, Wow. He’s so talented. I’ve gotten into the audio game of late, and even Neil’s reading feels effortless.

Of course, it isn’t. Mastery conceals years of practice spent honing a craft. We’ll never see the millions of shots Michael Jordan missed to perfect his form, nor the countless hours Aretha Franklin spent in church singing her favorite songs, nor the numerous revisions Shakespeare no doubt made to his plays. And even Nicolas Cage probably practices his freakouts.

This illusion can be understandably frustrating, especially for those striving for equivalent mastery. I want to become a full-time writer someday, so when I read a superb book that’s sold millions of copies, I always feel a little jelly.

Why can’t it be that easy for me? I wonder. Why can’t I have that kind of natural talent?

Here’s what I need to remind myself: Effortlessness is an illusion.

That’s not to say natural skill doesn’t exist; some musicians are born with perfect pitch, for example. But no one achieves mastery from innate skill alone. Practice, dedication, and perseverance are essential, no matter how effortless the final product might appear.

Why write this? Because I forget it all the time, which makes me think others do, too. Sometimes we envy people for their skills, all the while forgetting that we could achieve the same proficiency—or even surpass it—by working hard. Natural talent is places some further ahead than others before the starting gun sounds. But hard work can close the gap.

Next time you compare yourself to someone else, remember that effortlessness is an illusion. They got where they are by working hard—and that means you can do the same.

Unless you want to act like Nicolas Cage, that is. No amount of practice will get you there.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their cats, and their dog. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories that make readers laugh.

Kyle’s Time Travelin’ Tour, 2020 Edition

January 1, 2021 /

People hated 2020 about as much as non-New Englanders hate the Patriots. But hey, at least it’s over.

Now you may have noticed this fancy looking doohickey here. Though it might resemble a futuristic vending machine, it’s not. It’s actually a time machine.

Step inside, reader. I’d love to show you some stuff I worked on in 2020. And I promise we can stay socially distant and wear masks and all that stuff.

Ready? I’ll just close the hatch, press this button here, and…

January

We begin 2020 with an ending: I finished reading the Sandman series. That’s 10 collected volumes, 76 issues, and a heck of a lot of pictures of naked people.

I include this here because Sandman changed the way I think about long-form narrative. It’s impressive how the issue story arcs feed into the volume arcs, and how all 10 volumes combine to cover one gigantic story. Furthermore, the experimentation in form and style is incredible to behold. Can’t wait for the Netflix series.

February

February was a relatively quiet month for writing, mainly because I spent most of it gearing up for the 2020 Special Olympics New York Winter State Games (that’s my day job). About 1,000 athletes, coaches, and volunteers gathered in Rochester for competition in six sports. When we can safely host events of that size again, I highly recommend you join us.

On the writing front, I published a tongue-in-cheek blog post entitled “Podcasts I’ll Never Make.” Everybody seems to have a podcast these days. This post is why I don’t.

March

With Winter Games concluded, I dove headfirst into my next long-form project. It was going to be called And the End is Always Near (a title borrowed from the lyrics of “Roadhouse Blues” by The Doors). Notice the past tense there.

Chiefly inspired by The X-Files and the works of Emily St. John Mandel and David Mitchell, this novel was going to check in with five point-of-view characters over three years: 2000, 2010, and 2020. I read Monsters of the Week: The Complete Critical Companion to The X-Files (among other books) as research. I even quizzed friends and family on their recollections of my three years, hoping to get as many perspectives as possible.

I think you can tell where this story is headed.

Things shut down here in the U.S. in about mid-March. Remote work began, mask-wearing became as ubiquitous as underwear wearing, and 2020 turned into quite the stinker of a year. In a matter of weeks, my enthusiasm for the project dwindled.

It’s not dead. I plan to revisit And the End is Always Near in the future, once this pandemic nonsense is over. I’ve changed the years to 1999, 2012, and 2020. I’ll lose the clean decade spacing, but I like these three years because they’re three points in my life where the end truly seemed near (1999 had Y2K, 2012 had the Mayan calendar thing, and 2020 was 2020).

So, I pivoted on this year’s project. We’ll get to it soon.

April

I’ve done an April Fools blog post the past few years, and 2020 was no exception. I give you the sequel to my first novel:

Gerald Barkley Raps Cover

(Here I tinkered with the brilliant original cover design by my friend Nathan Rumsey.)

I might need to put a disclaimer on these posts in the future, because like 2019’s post, people thought this was real. I felt especially bad about that because some readers were honestly excited. Sorry, everyone.

Lastly, on a non-writing related note, we did as many quarantiners did and got a puppy!

Her name is Osi and she’s an English Springer Spaniel. She is energetic, athletic, and very cuddly, but only when she gets tired (which is rare). We’re still working on her relations with the cats, but things are progressing.

May

The theme of this month was “hair,” as evidenced by my appearance during this live reading of my short story “Large Coffee, Black”…

 

View this post on Instagram

 

A post shared by Kyle A. Massa (@kyleamassa)

…And also this newsletter, which bore the strange subject line, “A quick update on the state of my hair.” Lot of unsubscribes on that one. Can you tell I was going a little nuts?

June

Here I regained some semblance of sanity with a new blog entitled, “My 5 Favorite Bad Movies.” Or maybe not, since it’s a post praising the works of Nicolas Cage…

I also finished David Foster Wallace’s A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again, and thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. In fact, you’ll see it on my favorite books of the year roundup, coming soon.

July

Now here’s where things got spicy.

In terms of distribution, there are two paths an indie author like myself can walk: Exclusivity, or going wide. The former usually means Amazon, specifically opting into KDP Select, which mandates your book be exclusive to Amazon for a period of months. The latter means sharing your book in as many places as possible, thereby piecing together many smaller incomes into a (hopefully) greater whole.

I’m a going wide kind of guy. Therefore, in July, I began selling books directly on my website.

There are many reasons for doing so, though I won’t bore you with the details—unless you feel like being bored, in which case, check out this blog post I wrote on tax nexus. I spent more time than I’d like to admit trying to figure out whether or not I needed to apply sales tax to ebooks in my native New York State (turns out I didn’t, unless the IRS tells me otherwise).

But it was worth all the research, because it led to this…

Fantasy short story

Big Riches, Fine Wine, and a Pinch of Dragonsbane is a short story available exclusively through my website for $0.99. Look for more short stories like it in the new year!

August

August was a touchy month, in that I wrote about writing about touchy subjects. Specifically religion.

I’d hinted at my new novel a few times prior, but this, I believe, was the first explicit mention of the title, plot, and all that. I also went in-depth on my approach to the subject in a blog post.

Oh yeah, and this happened, too.

 

View this post on Instagram

 

A post shared by Kyle A. Massa (@kyleamassa)

September

In September I celebrated a birthday. Not my birthday. Not some other human’s birthday. It was the birthday of my second book, Monsters at Dusk. Is that weird? Probably.

My birthday present to my book was, perhaps cruelly, a frank evaluation.  Of the 10 stories in the collection, here are my personal favorites, from most to least.

  1. “The Megrim” (The one about Wendyll, Lockwood, and the missing kids.)
  2. “Several Messages from Abby to God (Regarding Her Cat)” (The one featuring letters back and forth between God, Satan, and the little kid.)
  3. “Large Coffee, Black” (The one where the guy falls in love with the titular beverage.)
  4. “Virus/Affliction/Condition/Curse”  (The one about a near future featuring werewolves.)
  5. “Unbelievable” (The one about the college student abducted by vampires.)
  6. “Thespian: A Tale of Tragedy and Redemption in Three Acts” (The one about the actor replaced by CGI.)
  7. “We Remember” (The one about the guy whose memories are quaffed by a mysterious visitor in his dreams.)
  8. “A Good Fit in Penbluff City” (The one about the epic fantasy sports team.)
  9. “Wings” (The one about the character who has wings attached to their body by a demented scientist.)
  10. “Alice” (The one about the kids in a field who spot a lonely monster.)

October

I’m not a big Halloween guy (unless you count my love of The Simpsons: Treehouse of Horror episodes), so I didn’t do any special writing for the holiday. However, I did remind you of the time I tried to convince you to read the aforementioned Sandman series. Remember that? No? Check out the refresher here.

November

I’d been working on Eggs for the Ageless all year, so I decided a fun near-New Year’s treat would be to share some of that work. I did so in this post.

As part of my research for the book, I also concluded The Book of Forgiving by Desmond and Mpho Tutu. As I wrote in my review, it’s not only a good book—it’s an essential one. I highly recommend it.

December

And finally, my writing year came to a squishy end with the appearance of a Book Blob.

What the hell is a Book Blob, you ask? Well, it’s when a blob of goo oozes on over and swallows your books, then refuses to give them back unless readers pay a measly ransom of five bucks (for the record, that’s how much I usually sell one book for). The Blob was supposed to leave by the New Year, but I’m told it’s sticking around one more day. So if you’d like to buy my books from it, you can do so here.

And Now, Back to the Future

Watch your step there. Make sure you wipe the interspatial dust from your eyes. And…we’re back!

Now that we’ve returned to the first day of 2021, some updates on the future: I plan to release Eggs for the Ageless later this year, along with another short story or two directly to this here site. We’ve also got a local short story competition in my neck of the woods, so I’ll be submitting there. And I’ve got another story I’m sitting on that I dig very much.

In short, I’m looking forward to this year, and I hope you are, too. Here’s wishing you happiness, good health, and a speedy return to normalcy. Thanks so much for joining me for the ride!

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their cats, and their dog. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories that make readers laugh.

Unusual Narrative Styles in Fiction

April 20, 2020 /

Writer

Mark Twain once said, “I like a good story well told.”

We’re with you there, Mark. Whether that story comes in the form of a book, a news article, or over a drink with a friend after work, stories are pretty much universal. It’s the “well told” part of this statement that interests me most, though. What exactly does that mean? Regarding fiction, is there an optimal way to tell a story well? I think not.

Linear, cause-and-effect narratives are fine. Third-person omniscient narration is cool. And the Hero’s Journey works. But when you find a story told in a weird, out-there sort of way, it can really make things feel fresh.

What am I talking about here? I’m talking about present tense. I’m talking about all-dialogue. I’m talking about non-linear narratives. Let me give you a few examples.

The Shining Girls

I just got finished reading The Shining Girls by Lauren Beukes. It’s about a woman who survives a brutal attack by a time-traveling serial killer, and then devotes the rest of her life to stopping him. Not one for the kiddies.

It’s not the typical cut and dry, one-scene-into-the-next thriller. First thing: it’s written in the present tense, which is atypical for genre fiction. Present tense works perfectly with this story, though, because it gives everything a sense of immediacy. It’s as if the events of the novel are unfolding before us in real time, sort of like a news story (Beukes was a freelance reporter for a while, by the way).

Furthermore, present tense works best with quick sentences and short chapters, which we see much of in The Shining Girls. Beukes writes her chapters in quick hits, like jabs to the mouth. We zoom in on one character, end on a resounding note, then move on to the next. An economical yet powerful approach.

Could Beukes achieve the same effect using traditional narrative styles? Maybe, but I don’t think it would’ve been quite as effective. There’s no distance to the events with present tense—it’s happening instead of having already happened.

Your Fathers, Where Are They? And the Prophets, Do They Live Forever?

Another weird narrative comes in David Eggers’s Your Fathers, Where Are They? And the Prophets, Do They Live Forever? The plot: an unremarkable man kidnaps an astronaut in order to ask said astronaut many existential questions.

…That probably already sounds weird. It gets weirder.

Eggers’s book is written entirely as dialogue. It’s sort of like a stage play in that sense, only without even so much as stage direction. Like in The Shining Girls, this makes things move quickly. Though it’s a roughly 200-page book (which isn’t super long to begin with), it reads as though it’s half that length.

The best part about this all-dialogue style is the way it puts the characters’ voices right in your ear. After a while, you can imagine distinct accents and inflections for each of them. Furthermore, the dialogue takes on a special weight, because without a description to back it up, every line must do more to advance the story. In addition, the dialogue must also perform such mundane actions as orienting the reader in the space, a function usually performed by description.

Slaughterhouse-Five

The last weird narrative style I’d like to discuss is that of Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five. Perhaps the weirdest of the three, Slaughterhouse centers on the life of Billy Pilgrim, a WWII veteran who’s trying to adjust to postwar life. Which is tough when you’ve become “unstuck in time” and subsequently cycle through different moments of your life.

Billy jumps from moment to moment, from the war to troubled times at home to an alien planet, all of them years apart. The narrative cuts between all these times and settings in an unpredictable pattern—definitely not the style of most books.

But the genius here is that we become disoriented, just like Billy. If the story was told in a normal, linear manner, we’d know exactly when we are in time, i.e. the events on page 100 are happening after those on page 50. As written, though, we’re just as unstuck in time as Billy. It’s an effect that couldn’t be achieved otherwise.

So What’s the Best?

So what makes a good story well told? Like any good question, there’s no single answer. It might be a classic structure, or it might be something unusual. Whatever the structure, it’s not just what happens that makes a story great—it’s the way in which it happens.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about cats.

Architect or Gardener: Which Kind of Writer Are You?

February 18, 2020 /

Writer

As a writer, I’m fascinated by other writers’ writing habits. There are infinite ways to construct a story, so it’s interesting to hear how others choose to do it.

George R.R. Martin, author of A Game of Thrones and its sequels, devised an excellent metaphor for writers and their processes. He divides them up into two loose categories: architects and gardeners.

What exactly does that mean? Let’s dig in.

Architects

Here’s how Martin defines them:

“The architect, as if designing a building, lays out the entire novel at a time. He knows how many rooms there will be or what a roof will be made of or how high it will be, or where the plumbing will run and where the electrical outlets will be in its room. All that before he drives the first nail. Everything is there in the blueprint.”

In other words, architects plan everything before writing it. They might work from a detailed outline or multi-page treatment. Architects often devise character bios or event timelines. If you’ve ever covered your wall in sticky notes, you’re probably an architect (or maybe a detective?).

When I did screenwriting in school, we were obligated to be architects; that is, we were required to write an outline for every script. Makes sense. With only a semester to write, it’s a unwise to choose a destination without a map.

However, spending time as an architect revealed some inherent weaknesses with the style. For one, characters might feel a bit less natural when they’re written to an outline. Characters come alive when they make organic decisions which align with their established traits. They can feel stiff when making decisions for the sake of an outline.

Of course, being an architect also has its advantages. For instance, architectural writing tends to feel more focused, especially on first drafts. Architects spend less time searching for their path since they’ve already built. All that’s left is to expand upon it—adorn it with some yellow bricks or something.

Gardeners

I’ll let Mr. Martin take over here:

“And then there’s the gardener who digs the hole in the ground, puts in the seed and waters it with his blood and sees what comes up. The gardener knows certain things. He’s not completely ignorant. He knows whether he planted an oak tree, or corn, or a cauliflower. He has some idea of the shape but a lot of it depends on the wind and the weather and how much blood he gives it and so forth.”

Gardeners plant the seed of an idea and watch it blossom. Unlike architects, they usually don’t have a blueprint for their stories. Instead, gardeners often begin with a particular thought, character, or scene, then work from there. Where it goes is anyone’s guess.

Although being a gardener is liberating, it also requires a lot of trial and error. Gardeners might start on a promising idea and spend weeks nurturing it. But what if it doesn’t grow? What if it doesn’t go anywhere? It’s discouraging to spend time on a particular piece only to realize you have no idea how it should develop.

The advantage of being a gardener (besides the fresh vegetables) is that such writing often feels spontaneous. Unlike architects, gardeners will often find surprises within their own work. Gardener characters also might feel less rigid than architect characters. Their actions will often shape the story since there is no predetermined path for them to follow.

Which Are You?

Here are Martin’s closing remarks on the subject:

“No one is purely an architect or a gardener in terms of a writer, but many writers tend to one side or the other. I’m very much more a gardener.”

As Martin wrote, most writers fall somewhere near the middle and lean toward one side or the other. So which are you closer to: an architect or a gardener?

I’m still figuring out which side I favor. In my screenwriting days, I had to be more of an architect. After graduating, I swung far (maybe too far) towards gardening. Now I’m shifting back toward an architect.

Whichever you are, keep building and keep planting. Keep writing!

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about coffee.

Kyle’s Time Travelin’ Tour, 2019 Edition

January 14, 2020 /

Time Travel 2018

Time travel. It’s better late than never.

In this article, I’d like to take a look back at my 2019 writing year. I hope it doesn’t come off as self-indulgent! I just think reviewing the past makes me excited for the future. Also, we’re already halfway through January, so if I don’t publish this now, I never will.

Anyway, time machine’s here. Hop in!

January

We begin with a blog post: “I Am Your Father: Making Similarities Work in Fiction.” Here I compare Star Wars with Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. Both employ the same plot twist, yet the latter never feels like it’s ripping off the former. Check out the post for my thoughts on how it was done—and how other writers might do the same.

Also, January marked the publication of my first guest post of 2019: “3 Signs It’s Time to Stop Editing That Manuscript.” I’m pleased with the way this one turned out, in large part because I experienced so much of what I wrote first-hand. Hope you enjoy reading it. And, if you’re a writer, I hope it helps you.

February

Short month, but a big event happened during it: the publication of an ebook I helped write for ProWritingAid! It’s called How to Go From First Draft to Published Author, and you can download it for free by clicking the link in the title.

You can probably guess what the book’s about, but here’s something you may not know: there’s one part where I made up a musical called “A Sloth is Born.” I know what you’re thinking, and the answer’s yes. I’m already working on the novelization.

March

A quiet month of March. The coolest thing that happened was finally releasing a paperback version of my first novel, Gerald Barkley Rocks. I must say, the feeling of holding one’s own book in one’s hands is electric. And even a big bar across the top reading “NOT FOR RESALE” couldn’t stop the feeling.

April

Fresh off the release of one book, I pranked some folks with the false release of another. See this article for deets: “Announcing Wee Stories: 1,001 One-Word Tales.”

I received some worried messages from friends and family who thought I was serious about microstories. For those who haven’t read it, here’s a snippet:

Consider this [microstory]. I call it Crossing at Dawn. Here it is, in its entirety:

“Turtles.”

It took me six months to write that piece. I tried to imagine what animal would be most likely to cross a road at dawn. A squirrel felt unremarkable, a chicken too cliche. Finally I settled upon the present form. I’m thrilled with the results.

Anyway, I got a good chuckle out of it.

May

Another guest post, this one entitled “How and Why to Treat Your Setting Like a Character.” It was especially gratifying to publish this post on Joanna Penn’s website. She’s the host of The Creative Penn Podcast, a show I find very informative. Thanks for sharing my post, Joanna! And thanks for adding a picture of this dude in there:

I have no idea who he is, but something tells me his name is something like Sir Bertrand Godfrey of the Luscious Hair. Just a guess.

June

No writing news, but that’s because I took a big step forward at my day job. In June, I was hired to work at Special Olympics New York!

You don’t need me to tell you what an outstanding organization Special Olympics is, but I’ll say it anyway. It’s a privilege to work there!

July

I finally caved and started an Instagram account. Here’s my first post:

 

View this post on Instagram

 

Currently reading, currently liking. Not as creepy as it sounds. #bookstagram #books #bookshelf

A post shared by Kyle A. Massa (@kyleamassa) on

Just wait for next month. That’s when my Insta really took off.

August

By this time I was furiously editing a manuscript (that’s coming soon), so there weren’t many writing updates. Instead I turned to Twitter for my hottest post of the year.

Clearly I was prognosticating the wild success of Cats.

Oh yeah, then I posted this on the Gram:

 

View this post on Instagram

 

Time marches on…for whom the @tacobell tolls 🤘

A post shared by Kyle A. Massa (@kyleamassa) on

One of my finest moments of 2019.

September

I released Monsters at Dusk!

 

Cover designed by Nathan Rumsey

This book means a lot to me, not least of all because the first story is about a cat. But really, please give it a read. There are 10 stories, so odds are you’ll find at least one to like.

October

Fresh off its release, Monsters at Dusk earned a mention in the Times Union Book Blog! Thanks to reviewer Alicia Abdul for the kind words, and thanks to my brother-in-law Dan Fisher for making it possible.

November

Not only did Dan orchestrate last month’s news…he got me my first ever reading and signing! Here’s me at Flights of Fantasy Books & Games…

I think the eight-year-old sneakers + white socks combo was a nice touch. Shoutout to bad fashion choices.

December

Finally, I capped off 2019 by completing my reading goal of 40 books. That’s a career high for me! If you’d like to see my five favorites of the year, check out this post (also from December): “My Favorite Books of 2019.”

Happy 2020!

Looking forward to another great year. Check back for more posts, more books, and—fingers crossed—more goofy social media posts.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about coffee.

Happy Birthday “Gerald Barkley Rocks”!

December 18, 2019 /

Cover designed by Nathan Rumsey

One year ago, I published my first novel. It’s called Gerald Barkley Rocks.

Most writers have soft spots for their first book. I certainly do. It’s the summation of a hell of a lot of work, not to mention the tangible proof that yes, you are indeed a writer. Plus, even non-writers can’t resist seeing their names on books.

So yes, I have a soft spot for Gerald Barkley Rocks—or GBR, as I’ve come to call it, since three-letter names are hot right now. But that certainly doesn’t mean I think it’s perfect.

In fact, in honor of its one-year birthday, I’m going to mercilessly criticize GBR. Well, maybe I’ll show a little mercy. I’ll give credit when it’s deserved. But overall, I’m hoping this might be a fun and educational critique, both for you and me.

Be warned: If you haven’t read the book yet, please consider doing so before reading this blog post. Onward!

Side I

GBR is separated into four parts, which I call “sides,” so named to mimic the four sides of a vinyl double album. I pushed the metaphor even further by renaming the chapters “tracks,” as in tracks on a record. (You might’ve also noticed that each track’s title corresponds to a song by Black Cat Waltz.) I thought it was a cool meta-metaphor then and I feel the same way now. Good job, former self.

Unfortunately, Track 1 starts off slow. It performs its function well enough by introducing our main character and a few conflicts he’ll explore throughout the novel. And yes, there are some decently funny lines (“tall mocha latte swirl”). But I wish I’d found a more exciting way to begin the book. Two dudes sitting in a doctor’s office discussing blood leaking from orifices is not exactly a thrilling opener.

Things pick up in the elevator when the man in the red coat appears. I think I did a nice job connecting him with Barkley’s illness and the music of Black Cat Waltz. It’s a quick scene that suitably unsettling, both for the main character and, I hope, the reader.

The book doesn’t really heat up until Track 2 (This is when Barkley arrives at the scene and meets Carmen for the first time.) I must say, the writing is sharp here. If you’ll allow me to pat myself on the back, I feel I provided a detailed description of the scene and established several important plot points, all economically and elegantly. Carmen Fowler’s first scene in particular has some nice dialogue…

…But, that brings me to one of my main criticisms: Why does Carmen like Barkley? To be honest, this was a question most beta readers asked me when reviewing my manuscript. They didn’t understand why a Hollywood actress would have any interest in an old, glum, and mostly boring detective on the verge of retirement. Honestly, I myself had the same question, even after reading the finished product.

To be fair, I did try to answer said question in the following passage. Carmen begins it (and note, Barkley doesn’t yet know her name).

“Ever since my husband passed I go for walks at night. Can’t sleep. A few times I caught Julian out wandering and we chatted.”

“I’m sorry.”

“About the chatting?”

“About your husband. My wife passed a while back, so the sleeplessness…I get it.”


Unexpectedly, the woman reached out and squeezed Barkley’s hand. “Stay strong, detective. You’re not alone.”


Barkley wasn’t so sure about that, but it was kind of her to say so.

This is better than my earlier drafts, but it’s still a problem, even in the final one.

Rounding things out is the first of the “Hidden Tracks.” Again, going with the vinyl terminology, a hidden track is a song that isn’t listed on the sleeve but appears on the record nonetheless. A great example (and one of the first) is the song “Her Majesty” from The Beatles 1969 classic Abbey Road. It plays about almost 20 seconds after the alleged final track, though it’s not listed on the actual sleeve.

I went for a similar effect with the Hidden Tracks in my book. They’re additional pieces that add color and flavor to the narrative, though they break the book’s point of view and don’t occur during the present timeline. There are three Hidden Tracks, one at the end of each side except the fourth and final. And I’m happy to say, all three work well.

The first Hidden Track is my second favorite. Young Julian Strange’s midnight prophecy is pretty cool, and it hints at the concept of Deaths without outright explaining them. Plus, it hints at supernatural events to come.

Side II

We begin with Track 4, entitled “Sing Us a Song (But Not That One).” Here I think I did a decent job setting up the mystery. The fairy-tale inspired record store is a solid setting and Francisco Jones is a weird character. My main gripe with myself is the “Song of Eggs and Semen” bit.

I remember agonizing over the name of the song for months. I wanted a title that described the song’s purpose (offering new life) yet also made readers laugh. “Song of Eggs and Semen” was meant to be a placeholder, but I simply couldn’t come up with anything funnier. Sometimes you just run out of time and need to write something, even when you know it’s not the best answer.

Another misstep: my heavy-handed symbolism with the color red. For example, in the next track, “Love is for Strangers,” when Barkley and Carmen run into each other at Trader Joe’s, this happens:

They stood there in the aisle, just staring at each other. Cans of stewed, diced, and whole tomatoes waited silently beside them.

A swing and a miss at subtlety there.

However, this side wasn’t a total failure. Nicks proved to be as fun a supporting character as I remember him being. He plays a strong foil to Barkley and has some hilarious dialogue, such as this exchange:

“Hello. Is this Gerald Barkley?”


“Yeah. Who’s this?”


A pause on the other end. Then the voice said, “This is Julian Strange.”


The sound of Barkley’s world dipped out. His lips moved but formed no words. The message made it to his mind clear enough—it was just that his mind wasn’t accepting it. “I…this…it can’t be.”


A moment’s pause. Then a giggle, which turned into a laugh. “Nah, just fuckin’ with you. It’s Nicks.” Nicks. Detective Nicks. His second on the case. “Ha. Did I scare you?”


“Jesus Christ, man.”


“Yup, he’s here too. Let me put him on.”

Next comes Track 6: “Janine.” Honestly, I debated whether or not to keep her scenes. Though powerful, I worried their separation from the main plot made them extraneous. Ultimately, I decided to keep them. I’m glad I did.

Barkley’s conflict with Janine moved me. I think I succeeded at presenting a compelling case for both sides of the argument. I also feel the dialogue conveys grief without verging into melodrama.

The next Hidden Track, “A Night with Black Cat Waltz,” remains my favorite part of the novel. I’ve gotten similar feedback from many readers. I think it’s well-written, thrilling, and delightfully surreal. Furthermore, it serves as a keystone for the entire book. As we later discover, Barkley actually appears in this scene (even though we don’t know it’s him). It also offers a big clue about Strange’s late-night visitor. Third, this scene is the closest look at Julian Strange we ever get (while he’s still human, at least).

Also, on an adult note, a few readers noticed the constant references to Julian Strange’s—cover your eyes, kids—penis in this book. Yes, that was intentional. It’s my way of making fun of old rock stars. That’s because, and forgive me for being vulgar, classic rock is basically dick music.

Rock’s lyrics are laden with sex and macho bravado, which is simultaneously one of the genre’s signatures and most problematic elements, especially in a modern context. Some examples:

  • In Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love,” Robert Plant shrieks, “I’m gonna give you every inch of my love.”
  • Humble Pie has a song entitled, “One Eyed Trouser Snake Rumba.” One of the lyrics goes, “I got the key and you got the door.”
  • The Doors’ “Light My Fire” is pretty obvious in its symbolism.
  • AC/DC’s “Go Down” doesn’t even try to hide what it’s about.

And the list goes on. I’m not telling anyone anything they didn’t already know. But since Gerald Barkley Rocks is a comedy at heart and meant to poke fun at its subject matter, I made constant references to Julian Strange’s love gun (as Albert King might call it). Seemed like a fitting joke.

Side III

This side is the shortest in the book (just two tracks), but covers important ground. First of all, it explains Deaths and how they work. Barkley confronts the man in the red coat, and this is the explanation he gets:

“You all have your own Deaths,” the man continued. “We go where you go, for your Death is with you from the day you’re born. And when you are done—and I mean done, done—we take you. Yet usually we go unnoticed.”


“What does that mean?”


“It means each Death is a stranger. It means those who are dying do not notice their Deaths until they are very near the very end. And you’ve noticed me, Gerald Barkley.”

Readers, on the whole, seemed to dig the concept of Deaths. A few even remarked that it felt like something Stephen King might devise, which of course made me blush. Maybe I’ll come back to this concept in the future.

The other important detail from this side: A closer look into Carmen and Barkley’s relationship. I still don’t get why they started dating, but this is where I’m glad they did. Infinite, the restaurant that never closes, is one of my most cherished settings, both because I think it’s a fun concept and because it speaks to the broader theme of the book: the natural yet unattainable desire to live forever.

Of course, I did notice some overwriting. For example, this:

There was no bar music, either—just euphonious and presumably urbane conversation.

“Euphonious,” eh? That feels like I hit up the closest dictionary for a big word. Not my finest moment.

Fortunately, I recovered somewhat with the karaoke scene. Another fun setting here: some weird bar infused with a sci-fi vibe. The drink called “Qui-Gon Gin” is perhaps the best pun I’ve ever devised. And Barkley’s failure to sing works as a nice dramatic moment, plus sets him up for success at the end.

Then comes the William Shakespeare revelation, which I’m still conflicted about. As a refresher, Barkley gives Carmen a gift, which happens to be a Black Cat Waltz album with her picture on it. Shakespeare’s on there, too, and Carmen identifies him as Strange’s visitor on the night he died.

I needed a breakthrough on the case and this seemed to work decently well. On the other hand, as noted by my writer friend Levi Jacobs, the protagonist doesn’t find this breakthrough clue. Rather, it falls into his lap. Yes, this does feel like a flaw in the story. Readers want active protagonists who solve problems, not those who stumble upon answers by mistake.

Another Hidden Track follows this one, and is perhaps the most experimental of the three. It’s a script for a VH1-style music documentary chronicling the downfall of Black Cat Waltz. I feel I achieved the effect I aimed for, plus offered some insight into the band’s inner-workings, along with Julian Strange’s mental state prior to his death.

Side IV

Strange’s funeral is an okay scene, though not one of my favorites. It’s kind of whacky and hearkens back to their Nebula Lounge show in the second Hidden Track, but feels a bit more tame than I wish it could’ve been. Wish I’d written it as a more raucous affair. And then we come to Warren Wilder.

The issue with Wilder, I think, is that it’s pretty obvious he’s not dead. Readers might not necessarily make the connection that he’s the mysterious visitor, but I certainly doubt they believe my attempts to make him seem unimportant (for example, when Nicks claims, “[Wilder’s] probably dead and rotten.”

The encounter with Wilder works well enough, though. He’s pretty funny in a weirdo way, and I always enjoy writing in an old English style.

Then comes Track 12, when Barkley and Strange finally meet. It’s certainly one of my favorite scenes, especially this monologue from Strange (who’s now a kitten):

“And yet [being Julian Strange] brought me no happiness.” The kitten batted its gopher toy, watched it roll away. “At times I found it, but never for long. I’ve been searching for eons. In one life I fought for Jerusalem. In another I was accused of witchcraft. I was an American soldier who stormed the beaches of Normandy. I saw the last of the wooly mammoths wither and die away. I farmed the land in the time of the Song dynasty. I was a Mayan astronomer whose name time forgot. I was Robert Johnson. I was Cleopatra. I was Judas and Brutus both. I was Julian Strange, born Johnson Henry Mudge. I’ve lived many lives, yet never have I felt content. Maybe shitting in a litter box will change all that.”

Finally, we have the final scene. I tried not to be too obvious, though I hope that didn’t leave the result too vague. Barkley’s Death leaves him alone because he’s finally found something to live for. Then come the final lines of the book, which work smashingly, if I do say so myself…

Barkley and Carmen took their bows. Then he kissed her, and she kissed him back, and that got an even bigger hand. The crowd chanted one word, over and over.

“Was it bad?” Barkley asked.

“Terrible,” Carmen answered. “Do you hear what they’re saying?”

A smile parted his lips. “Is it…?”

And Carmen laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. “I think they’re calling for an encore.”

Overall Thoughts

It’s interesting—at times, Gerald Barkley Rocks feels like a rote detective novel. We’ve got a down-on-his luck L.A. cop investigating the murder of a famous person. Yet at other times the book gleefully breaks that mold. For example, Barkley is a decidedly unglamorous main character, plus there’s a ton of supernatural crap happening. And, as it turns out, our murder victim wasn’t even murdered.

I’d give Gerald Barkley Rocks three out of five stars. It has a flawed romantic plot, a rather pedestrian setup, and a protagonist who sometimes fails to be likable or compelling. But I believe the book makes up for those shortcomings with solid themes, intriguing supernatural elements, and a strong ending. Plus, I feel I earned extra points with an innovative structure and daring side stories.

I know, I’m biased. But if you’ve gotten this far, I hope you’ve enjoyed this article. Also, as a thank you, please try this code on Barnes & Noble Press:

BNPBIRTHDAY

Use it between 12/21/2019 and 12/29/2019 to get 50% a hardcover version of GBR.

Happy Birthday, Gerald Barkley Rocks! Hope I didn’t hurt your feelings too bad.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about coffee.

Praise or Honest Feedback: Which Are You Asking For?

December 2, 2019 /

I’ve got a story for you. It goes like this:

The other day, I asked my wife for feedback on my writing. This is not unusual; she always offers great thoughts on how to improve my work. This time, I gave her a piece about a creepy painting (which you yourself can read here).

My wife had a lot of thoughts on the piece. After a while I found myself disputing them. When she said the characters felt flat, I said that was intentional. When she said she wanted something creepier, I argued it was creepy enough.

I stepped away from this experience wondering why I did what I did. If I wanted honest feedback, why then did I disagree with it when I got it?

Here’s my theory: Though I asked for it, honest feedback wasn’t what I was looking for. I actually wanted praise. I wanted someone to tell me my story was good.

The more I think about it, the more I realize this is not all that uncommon. Take members of my writer’s group, for example. Some members have received honest feedback at meetings, then haven’t returned for future meetings. These folks also didn’t write down any of the feedback they received. That makes me think they weren’t actually looking for constructive criticism. They wanted someone to tell them their writing was good.

I think all writers do this to some extent, whether or not we realize it. When we share our work, it’s because we hope others will derive some enjoyment from it. (Otherwise, why share it?) Some part of us wants to hear that our readers like our writing.

So then, is it wrong to seek praise? I don’t think so. For writers, praise is essential. Praise validates what we’re doing. In my aforementioned writer’s group, for example, we always start critiques by stating everything we like about the piece under review. It’s arguably the most important part of the whole process.

If you feel upset when you receive people’s honest feedback, it might be because you’re unconsciously hoping for praise. So when you solicit feedback, be upfront about what you’re looking for, both with the reviewer and yourself. If you want to know what people like about a story, ask them. Don’t ask for honest, constructive criticism unless you really mean it.

And remember: Everyone needs praise, but praise on its own won’t make our writing better. Constructive criticism will. When you’re ready, make sure to ask specifically for both praise and criticism. “What did you like about this piece?” “How do you think I can improve it?”

Whether it’s praise or honest feedback, communicate exactly what you’re looking for. It’ll make you (and your reviewer) much happier.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.

The Similarities of Playing Magic: The Gathering and Writing Fiction

October 7, 2019 /

I’m sure you’ve heard of writing. Question is, have you ever heard of Magic: The Gathering?

Magic is the world’s most popular trading card game (and also its first). Created in 1993 by doctoral student Richard Garfield, the game has millions of players all over the world. Players bring customized decks to the table and battle their cards against one or more opponents.

I like Magic. And I like writing fiction. And the more I do both, the more I realize how similar the two activities truly are. They both feature…

Endless Decision Making

When playing Magic or writing fiction, the player/author makes numerous decisions. In Magic, players start with seven cards in hand, then draw a random one from the top of their deck each turn. As a Magic player, every turn presents new decisions to be made, chiefly which of your cards you should play, and in what order. Your opponent’s decisions will further influence your own.

In writing, your only opponents are time, procrastination, and the occasional cup of coffee spilling on your keyboard. Still, there are plenty of decisions to make, probably even more than when playing Magic. For example: What are your characters going to look and act like? How does the setting influence them? What adjectives should you use to describe your protagonist? What’s your protagonist’s cat’s name (very important)?

Decisions, decisions. In both Magic and writing, they’re everywhere.

Contextual Factors

This is one of the coolest aspects of both Magic and writing: individual components change value based on what’s around them. Let’s start with Magic.

Let’s pretend that Magic cards are game pieces. The power level of pieces in most games are flat and predictable: a pawn advances at most two spaces at a time, and a queen moves as many spaces as she wants in any direction. In no game of chess has a pawn ever been more powerful than a queen.

Magic is a great game (the greatest, in my opinion) because its pieces vary in power level depending on what’s around them. For example, goblins appear frequently in Magic. In some decks, they might be annoying little attackers that don’t contribute very much to the game. However, in decks where they’re surrounded by more goblins, they might suddenly become a lot more powerful.

Everything’s contextual in writing, too! Take genre, for instance. If an author writes a novel about zombies, that author had better be aware of all the other zombie stories that have come before, after, and simultaneously. An author might write the best zombie story ever—yet if it comes out in the same year as ten other really bad zombie stories, it could easily lose value for the audience.

So Many Goddamn Rules

Magic and writing have a heck of a lot of rules. Let’s start with Magic.

In Magic, players strive to bend the rules in ways that are either competitively advantageous or just plain cool. No, this does not mean cheating (though that was certainly an issue in the game’s infancy). It means that players seek ways to combine cards in new ways for amazing results.

For example, consider the cost of cards. Magic is essentially a resource management game: players are allowed to play one land card per turn, and these land cards allow them to play their other cards. The game is designed so that, generally speaking, more powerful cards require more land cards to play. If players can find ways to play expensive cards sooner than usual, they can expect good results.

In writing, there are also tons of rules. Grammar, for instance, dictates how you express your ideas on the page. Then there are the rules of storytelling, which almost always come up when writing fiction.

Of course, as is the case with Magic, the fun part of writing is learning the rules, then breaking them. Fiction usually isn’t that interesting when it follows the template you expect it to follow; it’s often more compelling when the story diverges from established norms.

These are two of my all-time favorite subjects, so I’d better stop myself before I start rambling (if I haven’t already). If you like Magic, you might like writing fiction. If you like writing fiction, you might like Magic. Try ’em both!

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about coffee.

« Older posts

Disclosure: Some links on this site may be affiliate links. This means I earn a commission on sales made through those links, while you pay no additional cost.

Alliance of Independent Authors

© 2024 Kyle A. Massa

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑