I'm going to take a break from blogging, for the next month or two. Not a wildly controversial decision, you might think, but it's one I've found difficult to make. When I review my blog archives, I can see that I've been posting virtually every Friday for over four years! And I've never found it difficult to come up with new subjects and ideas every week, at least until recently.
But, since the tail end of last year, I've been finding this weekly blog becoming more of a chore than a pleasure (though there were exceptions like last week's post, which tumbled out in a blur of excitement). Although writing a post every Friday has been great discipline for me, it feels like it's time to take a break and recharge my blogging batteries.
Don't worry that I'll get bored, because I'm going to keep writing the Words & Pictures Blog Break (where you get to have the ideas instead of me!) There's also the not inconsiderable matter of a completely new draft of my novel to crack on with, and it feels good to commit to my fiction writing for a while. So please excuse me as I retreat into my dark cave and I'll see you on the other side!
Nick.
Friday, 24 January 2014
Friday, 17 January 2014
The Game is Afoot
I was having a certain kind of day and planning a certain kind of blog, when an unexpected email dropped into my inbox. OK, I say unexpected, but it was an editorial response to a full manuscript I'd submitted, so I suppose I was expecting it at some point.
I stared at the email header in the list and it stared back at me. I thought of Achievement Points and publishing glory, and then ran away for ten minutes to do something else!
When I came back, it was still there, waiting for me. "It's going to be No", I said to myself. But it could be a Yes! said a tiny voice at the back of my head. "It's not going to be Yes," I responded, clicking my mouse.
It wasn't yes.
But equally, it wasn't no, either.
Instead, I had some honest-to-goodness editorial feedback. Only a page and a half (probably a mere pittance compared to what commissioned authors receive) but still a generous act by a busy professional. And look - my book doesn't totally suck after all!
I'm a great believer in reading feedback once and then putting it away for a day or so, because I know the next steps will come in their own time. If I decide to follow the suggestions it will probably require a complete rewrite, and I'll need to consider whether that will fit with my own vision of the novel. But damn it if I'm not suddenly excited about the book again and ready to try something new.
I think back to two years ago, the last time I received detailed feedback on a full manuscript. That time, it was six pages of intensely negative criticism that almost made me throw in the towel. But somehow, I didn't, and I feel like I've arrived at a much better place because of it. Because, this kind of editorial feedback, this back and forth, is really at the core of what we are trying to achieve as authors when we pursue publication.
Publication, fame and fortune might be the ultimate goal, but writing and rewriting is the game we play to get there. And it seems like I might finally be learning to enjoy that.
Nick.
I stared at the email header in the list and it stared back at me. I thought of Achievement Points and publishing glory, and then ran away for ten minutes to do something else!
When I came back, it was still there, waiting for me. "It's going to be No", I said to myself. But it could be a Yes! said a tiny voice at the back of my head. "It's not going to be Yes," I responded, clicking my mouse.
It wasn't yes.
But equally, it wasn't no, either.
Instead, I had some honest-to-goodness editorial feedback. Only a page and a half (probably a mere pittance compared to what commissioned authors receive) but still a generous act by a busy professional. And look - my book doesn't totally suck after all!
I'm a great believer in reading feedback once and then putting it away for a day or so, because I know the next steps will come in their own time. If I decide to follow the suggestions it will probably require a complete rewrite, and I'll need to consider whether that will fit with my own vision of the novel. But damn it if I'm not suddenly excited about the book again and ready to try something new.
I think back to two years ago, the last time I received detailed feedback on a full manuscript. That time, it was six pages of intensely negative criticism that almost made me throw in the towel. But somehow, I didn't, and I feel like I've arrived at a much better place because of it. Because, this kind of editorial feedback, this back and forth, is really at the core of what we are trying to achieve as authors when we pursue publication.
Publication, fame and fortune might be the ultimate goal, but writing and rewriting is the game we play to get there. And it seems like I might finally be learning to enjoy that.
Nick.
Friday, 10 January 2014
Into the Wild
As I haven’t let anybody forget, I have a published short story in Stew Magazine, just out this week. It’s the first work of mine that’s appeared in print since the Undiscovered Voices anthology, and I’m again reminded of the curious feeling that accompanies your work being released into the wild.
For the first half hour after Stew arrived (once I’d checked my story for proofing errors, natch), I was elated. Here was my work about to make the journey into the hands of actual children for the first time! So I put the magazine in the hands of my own actual children and had them read the story. And neither of them liked it! How have I managed to breed these kids who dislike so much of my own work? (perhaps all that time devoted to developing their critical thinking would have been better spent making them recite the words “Dad, you’re a genius” over and over)
My self-doubt was eased by a couple of nice messages from people on Twitter, saying how much their children had liked the story (I resisted the temptation to make my own kids read these). It’s also a relief to be part of a larger magazine, full of other quality articles and features. A writer can hide behind the (true) notion that nobody can like everything, and a child will get a great experience out of the magazine regardless of what parts they enjoy most or least.
There’s additional comfort in having an editor and a creative team involved with the production. My creative choices have been analysed, approved and integrated into someone else’s artistic vision. I has become we. It’s made me realise how exposing self-publishing your novel must be, opening yourself up to praise and criticism without any buffer between you and the one-star Amazon reviews.
So, finally, my doubt has become expectation. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of kids are going to read Princess of Dirt over the coming months. Some will gasp, some will sigh, some will nod approval, and some will look confused and turn the page. But all of them will feel something. And isn’t that what good writing is all about?
Nick.
 |
| (Cover by Jesse Hodgson) |
For the first half hour after Stew arrived (once I’d checked my story for proofing errors, natch), I was elated. Here was my work about to make the journey into the hands of actual children for the first time! So I put the magazine in the hands of my own actual children and had them read the story. And neither of them liked it! How have I managed to breed these kids who dislike so much of my own work? (perhaps all that time devoted to developing their critical thinking would have been better spent making them recite the words “Dad, you’re a genius” over and over)
My self-doubt was eased by a couple of nice messages from people on Twitter, saying how much their children had liked the story (I resisted the temptation to make my own kids read these). It’s also a relief to be part of a larger magazine, full of other quality articles and features. A writer can hide behind the (true) notion that nobody can like everything, and a child will get a great experience out of the magazine regardless of what parts they enjoy most or least.
There’s additional comfort in having an editor and a creative team involved with the production. My creative choices have been analysed, approved and integrated into someone else’s artistic vision. I has become we. It’s made me realise how exposing self-publishing your novel must be, opening yourself up to praise and criticism without any buffer between you and the one-star Amazon reviews.
So, finally, my doubt has become expectation. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of kids are going to read Princess of Dirt over the coming months. Some will gasp, some will sigh, some will nod approval, and some will look confused and turn the page. But all of them will feel something. And isn’t that what good writing is all about?
Nick.
Friday, 3 January 2014
Girl Power
TV viewers of a certain age (i.e. mine) may be disturbed to hear that it’s been ten years since Buffy the Vampire Slayer ended. Apart from making me feel old, this statistic prompted Naomi Alderman to make a thoughtful Radio 4 show and accompanying article on the show’s legacy. While Buffy has been hugely influential, the article quickly concludes that one of its key components – the array of complex female characters – is not echoed in many modern works. Naomi Alderman argues that while strong female characters (Katniss Everdene, Daenerys Targaryan, Black Widow) do exist in modern movies and TV shows, they are invariably isolated from other women, and often end up in the boy, girl, boy groupings familiar from Harry Potter or Twilight.
This set me to thinking about my own work. After a long period in which I was scared to write female characters (particularly in first-person), I’ve been making up for lost time. My forthcoming Stew Magazine short story has a strong feminist slant and my story in the subsequent issue will also feature a girl protagonist. My recent novel is, similarly, written from a nine-year-old girl’s perspective, taking a heavy swipe at the “girlie-girl” culture of children’s toys and fashions. But in all of these works, I realised, my central character is also generally isolated from other female characters. The Stew stories are very short, of course, and can probably be excused. In the novel, however, the other female characters are all antagonists, obstructing the heroine or forcing her to adopt cultural norms that she despises.
This realisation was initially troubling for me. Had I, subconsciously, been acting out my own misogynistic urges in the story? I couldn’t really find any evidence for that in the rest of my life, and I could also see strong dramatic reasons for my choices. By isolating the main character from help, I ramp up the tension in the story and lead her to take increasingly desperate actions. The cultural perception of females as being less physically able than males (ironically) feeds into this, eliciting more sympathy and sense of jeopardy from the reader. You can see this same dynamic at play in The Hunger Games. Would that book even have been published if Gale or Peeta was the main character instead of Katniss?
A lot of current and forthcoming movies featuring strong but isolated female characters are based on YA books, and so are inevitably skewed by the YA readership (or at least publishers’ perceptions of this audience). Romance is a key tick box for Young Adult, and it’s generally a straight romance, which necessitates a male character alongside the female lead. Add a love triangle and suddenly you have the boy, girl, boy grouping again!
All this doom and gloom ignores the fact that there is plenty of product for young people out there that passes the Bechdel test. Although Marvel’s big screen superhero movies have a distinct lack of lead female characters, Buffy creator Joss Whedon has ensured a 3:3 ratio of women to men on the Agents of Shield TV show. And the other day, I discovered great female characters in the most unlikely place - My Little Pony - Friendship is Magic. My daughters are obsessed with this recent reboot of the cartoon show, which features a whopping 6:1 ratio in favour of the female ponies, with one “token” male dragon. Although her name could use some work, Twilight Sparkle is the pony who takes the lead role in many of the early episodes, and her skills at magic are shown to be gained through intense study. Unlike Hermione Granger, she’s not belittled for her commitment and intelligence, because without all that learning, the forces of darkness might quickly triumph. A female role model who saves the day because she does her homework? That’s girl power!
Nick.
P.S. I’m reminded of this brilliant article imagining the Harry Potter series if Joanne Rowling had been prepared to take a few more risks and make Hermione the lead character.
This set me to thinking about my own work. After a long period in which I was scared to write female characters (particularly in first-person), I’ve been making up for lost time. My forthcoming Stew Magazine short story has a strong feminist slant and my story in the subsequent issue will also feature a girl protagonist. My recent novel is, similarly, written from a nine-year-old girl’s perspective, taking a heavy swipe at the “girlie-girl” culture of children’s toys and fashions. But in all of these works, I realised, my central character is also generally isolated from other female characters. The Stew stories are very short, of course, and can probably be excused. In the novel, however, the other female characters are all antagonists, obstructing the heroine or forcing her to adopt cultural norms that she despises.
This realisation was initially troubling for me. Had I, subconsciously, been acting out my own misogynistic urges in the story? I couldn’t really find any evidence for that in the rest of my life, and I could also see strong dramatic reasons for my choices. By isolating the main character from help, I ramp up the tension in the story and lead her to take increasingly desperate actions. The cultural perception of females as being less physically able than males (ironically) feeds into this, eliciting more sympathy and sense of jeopardy from the reader. You can see this same dynamic at play in The Hunger Games. Would that book even have been published if Gale or Peeta was the main character instead of Katniss?
A lot of current and forthcoming movies featuring strong but isolated female characters are based on YA books, and so are inevitably skewed by the YA readership (or at least publishers’ perceptions of this audience). Romance is a key tick box for Young Adult, and it’s generally a straight romance, which necessitates a male character alongside the female lead. Add a love triangle and suddenly you have the boy, girl, boy grouping again!
All this doom and gloom ignores the fact that there is plenty of product for young people out there that passes the Bechdel test. Although Marvel’s big screen superhero movies have a distinct lack of lead female characters, Buffy creator Joss Whedon has ensured a 3:3 ratio of women to men on the Agents of Shield TV show. And the other day, I discovered great female characters in the most unlikely place - My Little Pony - Friendship is Magic. My daughters are obsessed with this recent reboot of the cartoon show, which features a whopping 6:1 ratio in favour of the female ponies, with one “token” male dragon. Although her name could use some work, Twilight Sparkle is the pony who takes the lead role in many of the early episodes, and her skills at magic are shown to be gained through intense study. Unlike Hermione Granger, she’s not belittled for her commitment and intelligence, because without all that learning, the forces of darkness might quickly triumph. A female role model who saves the day because she does her homework? That’s girl power!
Nick.
P.S. I’m reminded of this brilliant article imagining the Harry Potter series if Joanne Rowling had been prepared to take a few more risks and make Hermione the lead character.
Friday, 20 December 2013
The Museum of Me - Special Collector's Edition
After the epic archive blow-out that was last year's Museum of Me (Here's Part 1 and Part 2 if you missed it), I thought I'd exhausted all the old crap high-quality material from my past. But a chance discovery of a yellowing folder full of wedding stuff made me realise that the barrel could stand a little more scraping. You may have started putting on your running shoes as soon as I mentioned weddings, but bear with me...
OK, I wasn't exactly a teenager, or a bride, but I was only 24 (which, looking back, seems impossibly young to make a lifetime commitment!) After seeing our friends' weddings meddled into mediocrity by over-zealous parents, we were determined to do things our way. So we arranged the Register Office, booked a caterer and maxxed out our credit cards. Our DIY philosophy extended to the wedding invites, which were not going to be like everyone else's!
After all the preparation, the day went like a beautiful dream, even if we had managed to pick a date that coincided with an England World Cup game! The sun beamed down, the ceremony was lovely, the food entirely vegetarian and we even had a few hours in the middle to go to the pub for a pint!
A year passed, and we felt that our first wedding anniversary needed to be celebrated with some kind of pomp. But what could we possibly do to let everyone know how much we appreciated them coming to the wedding? Why, how about another newspaper?
You can see that we pulled out all the stops for this three page special. I believe that Claire actually had a hand in some of this nonsense, but when asked she denied all knowledge.
Fast-forward to 2006, and we decided (a little rashly, as it turned out) to have a joint wedding anniversary party with my in-laws. We were celebrating ten years of marriage and they were celebrating forty years(!) Of course, the occasion called for another publication, and I really went for it this time:
My in-laws, no doubt horrified by this craziness, made their own, more traditional invites to send to their own friends (probably a wise choice). You remember I mentioned rashes, earlier? Well the party itself would have been fine, except for the fact that my two-year-old daughter came down with chicken pox that afternoon! We soldiered through, but it took some of the shine off the occasion.
The seven years since have not been graced by any further anniversary parties or publications, although I'm very pleased to report that we're still married! Perhaps we can look forward to a 3D holographic iPad edition of Marriage Times in 2021...
This last item doesn't really have much to do with the previous ones, apart from the fact I wrote it. But I figured I'd include it so you didn't have to suffer yet another Museum of Me next Christmas!
Back in 2009, I'd joined an adult writing group and decided to chance my arm in their short story competition. The judge was a professional short fiction writer, so I tried to speak directly to him, with a story that I thought he'd enjoy. I relished the opportunity to adopt a voice which necessitated egregious overwriting, very different to my usual stripped-back style. The 1,200 word result took the first prize, which I was exceedingly pleased about:
My short story fame was to be short-lived, because two months after I wrote this, I discovered SCBWI. I put short fiction out of my mind and spent the next four years working on children's novels.
How ironic then, that I find myself almost full circle at the end of 2013, with the first of my short stories for children about to be published in Stew Magazine. After so long telling myself that novels were the only way to creative satisfaction, I'm beginning to rediscover a whole wealth of different media. 2014 is sure to be a year full of surprises and opportunities!
Have a great Christmas and New Year, and thank you to everyone that's supported me in my creative life this year. See you again on the 3rd January.
Nick.
I Was a Teen Bride
OK, I wasn't exactly a teenager, or a bride, but I was only 24 (which, looking back, seems impossibly young to make a lifetime commitment!) After seeing our friends' weddings meddled into mediocrity by over-zealous parents, we were determined to do things our way. So we arranged the Register Office, booked a caterer and maxxed out our credit cards. Our DIY philosophy extended to the wedding invites, which were not going to be like everyone else's!
Marriage Times (1996) - Click to open in new tab
After all the preparation, the day went like a beautiful dream, even if we had managed to pick a date that coincided with an England World Cup game! The sun beamed down, the ceremony was lovely, the food entirely vegetarian and we even had a few hours in the middle to go to the pub for a pint!
Anniversary Alert
A year passed, and we felt that our first wedding anniversary needed to be celebrated with some kind of pomp. But what could we possibly do to let everyone know how much we appreciated them coming to the wedding? Why, how about another newspaper?
Marriage Times 2 (1997) - Click to open in new tab
You can see that we pulled out all the stops for this three page special. I believe that Claire actually had a hand in some of this nonsense, but when asked she denied all knowledge.
Ten Years Went So Fast
Fast-forward to 2006, and we decided (a little rashly, as it turned out) to have a joint wedding anniversary party with my in-laws. We were celebrating ten years of marriage and they were celebrating forty years(!) Of course, the occasion called for another publication, and I really went for it this time:
Shock! (2006) - Click to open in new tab
My in-laws, no doubt horrified by this craziness, made their own, more traditional invites to send to their own friends (probably a wise choice). You remember I mentioned rashes, earlier? Well the party itself would have been fine, except for the fact that my two-year-old daughter came down with chicken pox that afternoon! We soldiered through, but it took some of the shine off the occasion.
The seven years since have not been graced by any further anniversary parties or publications, although I'm very pleased to report that we're still married! Perhaps we can look forward to a 3D holographic iPad edition of Marriage Times in 2021...
Tough Love
This last item doesn't really have much to do with the previous ones, apart from the fact I wrote it. But I figured I'd include it so you didn't have to suffer yet another Museum of Me next Christmas!
Back in 2009, I'd joined an adult writing group and decided to chance my arm in their short story competition. The judge was a professional short fiction writer, so I tried to speak directly to him, with a story that I thought he'd enjoy. I relished the opportunity to adopt a voice which necessitated egregious overwriting, very different to my usual stripped-back style. The 1,200 word result took the first prize, which I was exceedingly pleased about:
Dear Sir (2009) - 1,200 words - Click to open in new tab
My short story fame was to be short-lived, because two months after I wrote this, I discovered SCBWI. I put short fiction out of my mind and spent the next four years working on children's novels.
How ironic then, that I find myself almost full circle at the end of 2013, with the first of my short stories for children about to be published in Stew Magazine. After so long telling myself that novels were the only way to creative satisfaction, I'm beginning to rediscover a whole wealth of different media. 2014 is sure to be a year full of surprises and opportunities!
Have a great Christmas and New Year, and thank you to everyone that's supported me in my creative life this year. See you again on the 3rd January.
Nick.
Friday, 13 December 2013
Funny Business
Children’s books are fun, right? That seems self-evident, but when you’re writing one it can sometimes become an experience as far from fun as it’s possible to be! The same could be said for working in an office, where fun isn't generally at the top of the agenda. So I was pleased to have an opportunity this week to mix fun, work and children's books.
As you may have seen on Tuesday's Blog Break, OUP Children's Books are hosting a mischievous sea monkey character (from Philip Reeve and Sarah McIntyre's Oliver and the Seawigs) who is doing "work experience" for a series of advent tweets. I'd been idly thinking about getting involved, but was spurred on by the disappointment of not being selected in the book blurb challenge on the SCBWI Yahoo Group. Feeling that I wanted to do something positive to offset the negative, I tweeted the OUP Children's team, who brought the sea monkey down to my office a couple of days later:
There was something gloriously subversive about taking over the OED library to make photos of a knitted animal, although we ultimately went with a shot from the better-lit office. I was wondering how we were going to get the monkey to hold the phone, but luckily the publicity team were well prepared, with a pre-printed photo and some cunning use of Velcro.
I'm often taken aback by the speed of social media marketing compared to traditional campaigns. The selfie photo was taken at 10:45 and by 11:10 it had been tweeted by @OUPChildrens and retweeted by @OxfordWords to over 100,000 followers. A very famous monkey indeed!
The second photo needed some further preparation:
I really enjoyed subverting our Oxford Dictionaries Quick Search App for this, and it also served as a cunning bit of cross-promotion. OUP is such a large company that working across departments can be a challenge, and that made this opportunity even more of a pleasure. Big thanks to Charlotte Morris (@charlieinabook) and Alesha Bonser (@aleshabonser) from the OUP Children's Publicity Team for making it happen!
There are still another eleven days of advent left, and I can't wait to see what fun and trouble the sea monkey causes next!
Nick.
As you may have seen on Tuesday's Blog Break, OUP Children's Books are hosting a mischievous sea monkey character (from Philip Reeve and Sarah McIntyre's Oliver and the Seawigs) who is doing "work experience" for a series of advent tweets. I'd been idly thinking about getting involved, but was spurred on by the disappointment of not being selected in the book blurb challenge on the SCBWI Yahoo Group. Feeling that I wanted to do something positive to offset the negative, I tweeted the OUP Children's team, who brought the sea monkey down to my office a couple of days later:
 |
| Click to see larger version |
There was something gloriously subversive about taking over the OED library to make photos of a knitted animal, although we ultimately went with a shot from the better-lit office. I was wondering how we were going to get the monkey to hold the phone, but luckily the publicity team were well prepared, with a pre-printed photo and some cunning use of Velcro.
I'm often taken aback by the speed of social media marketing compared to traditional campaigns. The selfie photo was taken at 10:45 and by 11:10 it had been tweeted by @OUPChildrens and retweeted by @OxfordWords to over 100,000 followers. A very famous monkey indeed!
The second photo needed some further preparation:
 |
| Click to see larger version |
I really enjoyed subverting our Oxford Dictionaries Quick Search App for this, and it also served as a cunning bit of cross-promotion. OUP is such a large company that working across departments can be a challenge, and that made this opportunity even more of a pleasure. Big thanks to Charlotte Morris (@charlieinabook) and Alesha Bonser (@aleshabonser) from the OUP Children's Publicity Team for making it happen!
There are still another eleven days of advent left, and I can't wait to see what fun and trouble the sea monkey causes next!
Nick.
Friday, 6 December 2013
Is My Art Better Than Yours?
You can't have missed the fuss this week, caused by the Kent University's questionable decision to belittle children's books and S.F. Said's subsequent (successful) campaign to make them apologise. I'm sure you can imagine where I fall on this debate, so I won't grind that particular axe today. But the discussion did make me think about my own reactions to creative projects, and the fact that I can be just as judgemental!
Let me give you a specific example. I write during my lunchtimes, and there's another guy I see most days, also working on his laptop. He doesn't ask me what I'm working on and I don't disturb him - we work in companionable silence (punctuated only by me sighing when I can't find exactly the right word). In the last year, I've gone through four drafts of a Middle Grade novel in my lunchtimes, and he... well, I wasn't really sure what he was doing, but I was mildly intrigued. It was only after I heard him talking to someone else and saw him sketching on squared paper that it transpired that he was building levels for Minecraft.
Let me briefly digress to explain about Minecraft, for the uninitiated. It's something of a phenomenon in the gaming world, selling 33 million copies to date across various console and mobile platforms. The in-game graphics have a very characteristic "blocky" look to them, which seems quite primitive to modern eyes. The game can be played in several modes (including survival, exploration and combat) but the one that seems to have caught many people's imagination is construction. Minecraft has been likened to an enormous electronic Lego set, with players able to build anything they can imagine, just so long as that thing is constructed of textured cubes.
Now, I have to admit that I felt a little smug when I found out the guy had been using Minecraft. Look what I've produced in the last year and he's just been playing some stupid game! But at that point, I feel like I was falling into the same trap as the Kent Universities of this world, trying to put my creative expression on a pedestal above someone else's. Can we really judge creative output on a scale from high to low art? Are games any less childish than writing a children's novel?
Perhaps I don't altogether understand the appeal of Minecraft. My teenage daughter is an avid video gamer, but she dismisses Minecraft as "a boy thing." I certainly used to be a boy, but find I now crave video games that have a lot of narrative - I love to consume story in all its forms, and don't care for more abstract games unless I'm playing them in a group. I'll admit that I also feel a bit guilty about playing a game, that it's empty time I could be better filling with writing, reading or movie watching.
The late film critic Roger Ebert famously waded into the debate on whether video games could be art, with this statement:
Perhaps if I was a child now, I would be as fascinated by Minecraft as the kids profiled in this BBC News item from earlier this year. But is it art?
What do you think?
Nick.
Let me give you a specific example. I write during my lunchtimes, and there's another guy I see most days, also working on his laptop. He doesn't ask me what I'm working on and I don't disturb him - we work in companionable silence (punctuated only by me sighing when I can't find exactly the right word). In the last year, I've gone through four drafts of a Middle Grade novel in my lunchtimes, and he... well, I wasn't really sure what he was doing, but I was mildly intrigued. It was only after I heard him talking to someone else and saw him sketching on squared paper that it transpired that he was building levels for Minecraft.
 |
| Minecraft screenshot © Mojang |
Let me briefly digress to explain about Minecraft, for the uninitiated. It's something of a phenomenon in the gaming world, selling 33 million copies to date across various console and mobile platforms. The in-game graphics have a very characteristic "blocky" look to them, which seems quite primitive to modern eyes. The game can be played in several modes (including survival, exploration and combat) but the one that seems to have caught many people's imagination is construction. Minecraft has been likened to an enormous electronic Lego set, with players able to build anything they can imagine, just so long as that thing is constructed of textured cubes.
Now, I have to admit that I felt a little smug when I found out the guy had been using Minecraft. Look what I've produced in the last year and he's just been playing some stupid game! But at that point, I feel like I was falling into the same trap as the Kent Universities of this world, trying to put my creative expression on a pedestal above someone else's. Can we really judge creative output on a scale from high to low art? Are games any less childish than writing a children's novel?
Perhaps I don't altogether understand the appeal of Minecraft. My teenage daughter is an avid video gamer, but she dismisses Minecraft as "a boy thing." I certainly used to be a boy, but find I now crave video games that have a lot of narrative - I love to consume story in all its forms, and don't care for more abstract games unless I'm playing them in a group. I'll admit that I also feel a bit guilty about playing a game, that it's empty time I could be better filling with writing, reading or movie watching.
The late film critic Roger Ebert famously waded into the debate on whether video games could be art, with this statement:
To my knowledge, no one in or out of the field has ever been able to cite a game worthy of comparison with the great dramatists, poets, filmmakers, novelists and composers. That a game can aspire to artistic importance as a visual experience, I accept. But for most gamers, video games represent a loss of those precious hours we have available to make ourselves more cultured, civilized and empathetic.Strong words indeed! I can totally see what he means, but is that the whole story? I think back to my teenage years, when I myself was spending a lot of time with squared paper, designing computer games with my best friend (most of which never progressed beyond the design stage). I found a love for creative pursuits that has burned ever since, even if I now choose to focus on words rather than code for my "art". You can certainly argue that I wouldn't be doing the job I'm doing today without these early technology experiments.
Perhaps if I was a child now, I would be as fascinated by Minecraft as the kids profiled in this BBC News item from earlier this year. But is it art?
What do you think?
Nick.
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