It’s Final Preview for the show I’m in, opening is tomorrow. So even though this is technically a tabletop game design blog (I mean, right? Is it? What are we doing here?) I want to come at this from another angle and noodle around on theory here for a bit – not just as it pertains to writing games but also for the stage.
I’m a devout believer that writing across different genres, subjects, and media is all to the good for building your voice and your skills. Broadening your approach, tackling a variety of challenges, and learning other perspectives; all of these represent tremendous opportunities for a creator. I consider my game-writing to be (ironically) non-fiction, since the act of invention can result in something real (mechanics), rather than imaginary (fantastical/story), and I’ve noticed a genuine uptick in my writing abilities as a result of my commitment to write regularly in both fiction and non-fiction. Fiction-writing inspires and livens up my non-fiction-writing; non-fiction-writing has taught me to be concise, to persevere past where inspiration ends, and to consider which voice best suits each audience. So I think that while this writerly concept I’m going to talk about today pertains more to writing for the stage, it’s inspired by and has applications for game writing.
Experience-First Approach to Writing
In game design, newer designers often engage in a debate about approach: which should come first, the mechanics (the rules, actions, objectives) of a game, or the theme (a trickier term, but the setting, the plot, any sense of non-mechanical character)? More experienced designers often advise a hybrid approach over neglecting one side in favour of the other. My own take on this subject is that the Experience should come first. Whereas the mechanics or the theme of a game can be substituted or removed, the Experience of a game is meant to clarify what your intentions as a writer are for your audience, not simply for your design.
In my playwriting, I have a frequent issue: I can make little edits all day every day, but when big change is needed, and particularly when people other than me are asking for change, I’m lost: I can try my best to address the need, but I also feel my grip on the story slipping, and I lose any sense of what the “best” or “right” play is. This is nothing special: Many writers, particularly those as young in their craft as I am, fall prey to the sunk cost fallacy and do not have the confidence to kill their darlings. But I hypothesize that an Experience-First approach to my plays can help me better clarify, for myself and for my collaborators, the true goals of the play, which can then act as a measuring stick for the effects of a change and can help explain motivations in a field of writing that’s so personal and full of feelings. It’s not impolite, per se, but it isn’t in the best taste to bluntly ask a playwright “but what is the point of your play”, obvious though that should seem. Instead we dance around questions like “what are the themes, what is it about, who is it about” – all important questions, but incomplete ones. I wish to experiment with a more holistic view of the play. Agree to the understanding that your role is one of many, and that your contribution exists to serve the collective goal, the creation of an experience that begins before your audience even hears of the play. How can defining your target Experience for a play help not just with editing, but the writing of it? Not just the production of it, but the marketing? Its place in season-planning? Its place in the landscape of your city’s cultural offerings?
If nothing else, this could be a way to be more specific in how you talk with your collaborators about your play. Never mind whether a note makes a play “better”; talk about how a note will help the play serve the intended experience, and now instead of quibbling over what “better” means, we have a shared goal that the note and its solution are in service of.
This is something I’ve been kicking around for a while. I started teaching my latest session of a playwriting class yesterday, I’ll probably keep testing and refining this theory with them. Will report back.
Of course all this is moot if Covid-19 continues to spiral out of hand and we have to cancel all productions for any significant length of time, which would (I am not joking) financially knock out 50% of the small-to-midsized theatres in this city. So. Happy Mechanic Monday, everyone.
I’m a devout believer that writing across different genres, subjects, and media is all to the good for building your voice and your skills. Broadening your approach, tackling a variety of challenges, and learning other perspectives; all of these represent tremendous opportunities for a creator. I consider my game-writing to be (ironically) non-fiction, since the act of invention can result in something real (mechanics), rather than imaginary (fantastical/story), and I’ve noticed a genuine uptick in my writing abilities as a result of my commitment to write regularly in both fiction and non-fiction. Fiction-writing inspires and livens up my non-fiction-writing; non-fiction-writing has taught me to be concise, to persevere past where inspiration ends, and to consider which voice best suits each audience. So I think that while this writerly concept I’m going to talk about today pertains more to writing for the stage, it’s inspired by and has applications for game writing.
Experience-First Approach to Writing
In game design, newer designers often engage in a debate about approach: which should come first, the mechanics (the rules, actions, objectives) of a game, or the theme (a trickier term, but the setting, the plot, any sense of non-mechanical character)? More experienced designers often advise a hybrid approach over neglecting one side in favour of the other. My own take on this subject is that the Experience should come first. Whereas the mechanics or the theme of a game can be substituted or removed, the Experience of a game is meant to clarify what your intentions as a writer are for your audience, not simply for your design.
In my playwriting, I have a frequent issue: I can make little edits all day every day, but when big change is needed, and particularly when people other than me are asking for change, I’m lost: I can try my best to address the need, but I also feel my grip on the story slipping, and I lose any sense of what the “best” or “right” play is. This is nothing special: Many writers, particularly those as young in their craft as I am, fall prey to the sunk cost fallacy and do not have the confidence to kill their darlings. But I hypothesize that an Experience-First approach to my plays can help me better clarify, for myself and for my collaborators, the true goals of the play, which can then act as a measuring stick for the effects of a change and can help explain motivations in a field of writing that’s so personal and full of feelings. It’s not impolite, per se, but it isn’t in the best taste to bluntly ask a playwright “but what is the point of your play”, obvious though that should seem. Instead we dance around questions like “what are the themes, what is it about, who is it about” – all important questions, but incomplete ones. I wish to experiment with a more holistic view of the play. Agree to the understanding that your role is one of many, and that your contribution exists to serve the collective goal, the creation of an experience that begins before your audience even hears of the play. How can defining your target Experience for a play help not just with editing, but the writing of it? Not just the production of it, but the marketing? Its place in season-planning? Its place in the landscape of your city’s cultural offerings?
If nothing else, this could be a way to be more specific in how you talk with your collaborators about your play. Never mind whether a note makes a play “better”; talk about how a note will help the play serve the intended experience, and now instead of quibbling over what “better” means, we have a shared goal that the note and its solution are in service of.
This is something I’ve been kicking around for a while. I started teaching my latest session of a playwriting class yesterday, I’ll probably keep testing and refining this theory with them. Will report back.
Of course all this is moot if Covid-19 continues to spiral out of hand and we have to cancel all productions for any significant length of time, which would (I am not joking) financially knock out 50% of the small-to-midsized theatres in this city. So. Happy Mechanic Monday, everyone.
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