Something you may or may not know about me: I love video games. Ever since I was a kid. In fact, I used to weird other kids out (particularly other girls for some reason) because usually all I wanted to do for fun was play video games. I mean, sure, there was the requisite game of “Barbies” that even to this day I feel shame about. But mostly? Video games.
This weekend, I spent a healthy (and I mean healthy in the “big-boned” kind of way) amount of time playing this game. The whole thing is basically one guy’s vision, artistic talent, conviction, and work-ethic take form. It’s fun to play, gorgeous to look at, and an absolutely amazing achievement for any artist, game-maker or otherwise.
It makes me wonder: how do we gauge our own success as people who create things? I know I’ve been a little out of the loop this summer, but I do consider myself a writer. A creative one, at that. And it wasn’t so long ago that I was writing whole novels (okay, Nanowrimo novels, but still). It just seems like lately, that just doesn’t appear to be realistic, or even that appealing to me.
So what to do instead? I guess there’s always wisdom in the middle-ground; in compromise. My partner often says, “write me a story.” It doesn’t have to be a novel, or even a complete story. “Just write,” he says. It’s like any creative endeavour; it only gets done by doing.
I’m not sure what kind of story I’d like to write. So today, I’m just writing a blog post. But you know, I’m keeping my eyes open for inspiration. For instance, this morning I woke up to the muffled sleep-talking words of my sigo: “the monkey now knows no fear.” I’d say that’s a pretty good start.