The Price of Choices (specifically, “Choices”)
Someone I know online just gave “Choices: And The Sun Went Out” (interactive science fiction available on Google Play and itunes) a try, and then said they didn’t like how quickly the program asked them for money (the first month of content is free and takes about 40 minutes for the reader; reading onwards costs a few dollars).
There are a few REALLY common complaints about interactive fiction.
- Too many words! (Usually caused by someone who expects a more typical video-game-like experience.)
- Not enough words! (Interactive Fiction is particularly prone to this. If you sell a novel, people typically read all the words. If you sell an interactive novel, they’ll read less than half, so if you give them a 50,000 word book it turns into a 20,000 word novella, or less. You can soften the effect by having a more linear storyline, but then…)
- My choices didn’t branch enough! (Every branch more than doubles the workload… but it also adds replayability. Each writer finds their balance.)
- Why do I have to pay?
Ah, Number Four. Here we are again. Here’s my response to the acquaintance above, which bears repeating so I can point other people this way:
Thanks for making me laugh with your suggestion to make it cheaper.
Tin Man pays me an advance against royalties (very unusual in this biz, and still considerably less than minimum wage). The free part is four weeks of content. It’s roughly 40,000 words, although each play-through sees less than half of that.
Each four-week chunk represents four weeks of full-time writing (divided between two people) plus editing by at least one other paid Tin Minion (I believe there are 3-4 editors, all of them paid professionals). There are usually four main strands happening at any given time (the first month has a more complicated map than most of the others, but relatively little variety because it’s setting up so much crucial information; one three-month period has 4-6 strands).
So I think a free first month followed by a few dollars per month (or a LOT of advertising to cover the same amount) is fair.
Or you can just buy my novel. Whatever.

Dinosaurs Roam Canberra Rainforest
It takes a LOT to get me walking anywhere, let alone halfway up Black Mountain, which last week looked like this:

(BYO Child.)
But when I heard there were dinosaurs (on loan from the Dinosaur Museum) lurking in the National Botanic Garden rainforest (and tundra, and desert, etc) I just had to go.
One of the up sides to having children is that they make you bother getting up and doing cool things like this.

I have an unusually tactless cousin who I rarely see (not because he’s tactless, but because I don’t like him anyway). We caught up at some family event sometime, and I said I write a lot of young adult fantasy. He had two questions about that:
- Do you write for young adults because you’ve never grown up?
- Do you write fantasy because you can’t deal with normal reality?
To which I say a hearty, “Yes and yes”.
Of course the reality is more complex. I like writing (and reading) YA because it’s fast-paced and exciting, and usually a little less intense in its sex and violence (I can develop a case of PTSD from a single graphic scene). I’m fascinated by themes of self-identity, friendship, family and hard-won independence.
I’m well past the age where I felt like I was only pretending to be an adult. At the same time, a lot of the markers of adulthood have been stolen from me. I have never and almost certainly will never be financially independent (I’ve been chronically ill and/or mentally ill for all of my adult life) and I have some mild brain damage which makes my mind behave a lot like I’m in the early stages of alzheimer’s disease. Along with the other stuff, this often makes me feel like an adult trapped inside a whiny, lazy, angsty, and unreliable teenage reality. So in some ways I really haven’t grown up, and never will. This drives me nuts (and loses me many good friends) but perhaps it’s for the best in the end.
Fantasy is interesting. As a nerd, I love the idea of power coming from the mind of a character rather than (for example) exercise or physical strength. I also find fantasy inspires me to deal with reality because it lends itself to such universal and hopeful themes: Good triumphing over evil despite enormous odds, a despised child becoming the hero and saving their tormentors, etc. After many years of crippling depression, the odds of ever being a healthy or well-balanced person are perilously low. Yet when I first became a mother (something that usually sends sane people mad) I found myself much stronger and more capable than before. How did that happen? Did the Power of Love (TM) really save the day?
Well… yes.

So you can grow out of fairy tales if you like, but I’ll be here: Still believing.
Apart from anything else, I have my own magic. I create worlds and people our of thin air, with extraordinary ease and (arguably) skill. It might not make me a grown up, but it does make the world better. Which is all I ever really wanted to do.
Where?
Yes, I’m alive.
I also have a computer that is fast enough to keep up with my (heartily moderate) typing speed. Huzzah!
“Heart of Brass” is perilously close to actual, 3-D publication.
The next game from Tin Man Games has a tentative release date of 17 August (and every week after that, for many months).
But having a new computer meant I needed to log in to wordpress again. Sounds easy, doesn’t it?
I’m getting better.
It doesn’t make me cry any more.
Heck, it only took me 9 minutes this time. I have it down to a fine art.
Step 1: Attempt to just log on. This time was unusually good; I didn’t remember my password, but I *did* remember my username this time.
Step 2: Ask to retrieve password. This requires me to remember my backup email address. This time was unusually good; it only took me two tries.
Step 3: Access my backup email address. This requires two things: Remembering the password (obviously not going to happen), and remembering how to log out of google (two attempts each; a personal best).
Step 4: Reset password. It’s not allowed to be short or memorable, or anything I’ve ever used before. This is when I discover the last six passwords I used.
Step 5: Log in. Which requires remembering the new password for five seconds, or starting again from the beginning. Since I remembered NOT to click the big “Generate strong password” button (which creates a stream of gibberish in order to help one restart the process from scratch), I got it first go.
So here we are. Victorious.
Yes, computer, I WOULD like to save that password for next time.
Here is a photo of my son from this afternoon, asleep on my sleeping husband’s lap.




