Oh man, Woodruff. My mother got that game for me. When I was nine. I had no idea what the hell was going on in that game, and I loved it, though I probably spent 40 hours in the very first hour of the game.

On the topic of little girls and games though, couldn’t agree more. My sister and I have a substantial age gap between us—a decade—so watching her grow was amazing, as well as her taste in video games. She’ll play anything with with a dancing theme, anything with Mario in it, anything that had a puzzle she could solve.

Games are for everyone and men need to stop acting like the ‘girl who plays video games’ is some rare and elusive legendary creature that needs to be captured and mollified.

I took the coward’s way out of dealing with my inadequacies as a writer, by making a living as an engineer and writing/podcasting on the side.

Jenn, reading your book review proved to me you definitely have the chops to write for a living. Do you have the luck for it? Only time will tell

Unrelated: I still receive mail asking how to “tunnel” the PSP using multiple ad-hoc wireless points. Really. Of all things! (The tutorial in question is eight years’ out-of-date, so my too-short reply is always “Good luck!”)

I still think the whole “boy games, girl games” thing is a non-starter as an argument. Girls like good games, boys like good games, neither like bad games. More games should find a common ground between machismo and sensitivity, like Ecco: when pretty dolphins are attacking space aliens, that’s something everyone can get behind.

If I may: your post is an enormous help to any gamedev who feels trapped in the crosshairs of some made-up debate, and for my own part I want to encourage that gamedev to approach game-making from whatever vantage she intuitively prefers. As a reader/writer I think I’d probably make a narrative game, but as a player, I prefer purely mechanical games. What does that mean! And it doesn’t mean anything, really. Or it means both things. I don’t know! But thank you for acknowledging that Venn intersection of game design, because there is no real “debate,” here, only various elements to consider.

Anyway. Thank you thank you thank you.

And if I’m correct on the timezones, you probably should be asleep and not replying to my comments.

Still! This was one of the best things I’ve read in a long, long time! I didn’t take much time to really explain or extrapolate on my own blargh, only because I very much feel it needs neither. (Also, I was a latecomer to the post, and my apologies for not seeing it earlier in the week!)

Odd timing; I am planning to link to an earlier piece of yours tonight. It looks like a link exchange…

Now, the people you really want to impress/intimidate are your old high school friends. Easy! Let them all know you are a famous writer. Tell them so! When they ask what the money’s like, happily tell them there is none. They will invariably marvel at both your joie de vivre and your gall. I am almost not kidding.

Freelancing is tough, though I’m typically afraid to say so in front of my peers. It’s helpful to hear that my self-perceived failings/neuroses aren’t totally unusual, since I’m really good at thinking the problem is just me.

Isn’t 24 a tricky age! All your elders keep saying you have “plenty of time,” but you’ve just arrived at that juncture where you begin to suspect they’re wrong, that you aren’t so young after all. It’s very nerve-wracking.

When you sincerely thank the “above commenters,” you mean Kati, of course. When I read Kati’s contribution I immediately commenced work on a reply to her. The only thing I ever settled on, though, was a first sentence (“Kati, you are a treasure”).

But she is correct when she offers that writing advice as reassurance. It is reassuring! All of this is reassuring, even though it is all fraught with fear and doubt. I know I’m a fraud! If I can’t write, how will I eat! I feel that way about your comment, too: that it is hopeful and optimistic despite all the worry.

When I started writing my drafts of a comment to Kati, one thing I wanted to talk about was how uncynical freelancing really is. Even though it’s frightening, you maybe decide to implicitly acknowledge, just in that work’s very undertaking, how precious life is. Incidentally, Ariel Gore—aforementioned in the blargh—recommends experiencing deep, terrible loss, but experiencing it only twice, I guess so you can get a grip on how tenuous it all is without actually snapping.

Snapping is also fine, though. When you discover everyone will die, probably sooner rather than later, and that you are already numbered among those casualties, you begin to work harder—not because you are grim, but to celebrate what you have. Maybe this is a strange direction to go, but I have my reasons. Then again, having this attitude might do strange things to your sense of priorities; if you do ever decide to abandon marketing completely, you pragmatic old man, I’ll understand. (I also understand banking on a “sure bet,” which is its own type of noble.)

You remind me that you’re very young, but I don’t think so. You have the cool, thoughtful tone of somebody much older and wiser (the latter, of course, seldom comes with age anyway). It sounds like you have it pretty well figured out—I say this even as life often has another way of figuring itself. And that’s the heart of everything: we all brace, decide, and see. Video games lend a nice mimesis for that. It’s all very noble work.

***

Separate from all that, I do want to tackle your last sentence, Nick. I know you’re employing the pose of a tortured creative in a sweetly smirking way, but there really is a great deal more to be said about booze. As a responsible adult I can only strongly advise against looking for any inspiration in the bottom of a bottle. A good friend, whom I was fortunate to know, died too young, and alone, of eating too little and drinking too much. That was in February 2010, and a day doesn’t go by I don’t dwell on it for awhile. There is zero romance in that story.

My point is, buy the top-shelf stuff. You’ll feel real classy and you’ll make yourself drink a whole lot less. Remember to eat. Pay your bills mostly. Once in a great while, treat yourself to things you know you can’t afford. Treat your friends, too, if you can. Plan your budget around big dinners; feel guiltless. And alternatively, drink coffee! Lots of coffee! The palpitations will make you type faster.

I’m a 24-year-old journalism school graduate who mostly did long-form, human interest pieces in J school. Right up until graduation I thought I was in decent shape. I’d diversified my body of work by adding photography, I’d engineered podcasts, I’d reported from overseas. My entire college career was an exercise in broadening my experience to open up career opportunities.

And then the runway just ends. All of the sudden writing for a living becomes this seemingly insurmountable goal, instead of the natural conclusion of years of study and practice. I’m sure millions of grads face this exact same problem, especially those in creative fields, but that’s doesn’t mean I took it any gentler. Now I work in marketing, while blogging and [trying] to write a novel during my off hours.

It reminds me of something I heard Ira Glass say, that when you first start out doing creative work, it’s a rare few who are any good. In the beginning, you can identify quality work but you simply don’t have the tools, or the experience, to replicate it.

I don’t know if that’s true, but its oddly reassuring. Now when I find a writer, publication or blog that I like, I tear it apart in my head, trying to find any hint of the secret stuff they used to piece it together, whatever made it glitter enough to rise above the noise.

And in this day and age, when just about anybody can self publish, there is just so much noise. It’s this endless sea of comedians, writers, photographers, novela authors, script runners, etc. etc. Sometimes it seems that there are just so many talented voices, that whatever I have to add has probably already been said elsewhere, more eloquently.

But instant success rarely inspires quality work. I tell myself that the struggle will make me a better, more discerning writer. Every day that I throw something at the wall and watch it slide down is another lesson learned. One day, when I’ve earned an audience, whatever I have to say will carry that much more weight, because of everything I’ve had to slog through to get there.

I realize I’m very young, and thanks for pieces like this, one of many. Above all I’m a writer, because it’s all I’ve ever wanted, or been able, to do. If that means having to choose between affording groceries or booze, I’ll grab some bottom-shelf brown and hope there’s a good story waiting at the bottom.

I won’t pretend to be able to relate to a lot of your specific situation. I have mega writer’s block and a mega inferiority complex to go with it, but my background’s pretty different. I’ve only recently given myself permission to even write, period, as a profession or for fun. So I’ve been reading a lot of books and listening to a lot of podcasts on writing for entertainment in general, and here are some things I hear over and over that might apply to you:

1. When you first start, or when you put down your first draft, it will always be a piece of crap. Everyone’s first start is always completely crap – Just accept it, don’t feel bad and beat yourself up about it, and start the rewriting. Congratulations because you are normal.

2. Writers who are in a cherry position feel like frauds and that any minute they’ll be caught and thrown out.

3. Staying in your apartment 24/7 absolutely kills you. If you don’t get out into the world, all inspiration dries up. No matter what you’re writing about, it deals with human life, and if you’re not actually living, the writing stinks.

4. (This one seems bad) For writers on assignments, like TV writers or writers with contracts, every job feels like the last job they’ll ever get. The panic at not knowing what’s going to happen never goes away. BUT THEN THEY GET THE NEXT JOB. And then after THAT job, they’re panicked as hell again – on and on and on.

Looking at this, the tips I keep hearing seem really negative actually. I am sorry xD But if you take it the way I do (they’ve been really helpful to me), they’re actually ridiculously comforting. Because for years I thought all the dramatic emotional tie-ups, inferiority, self-doubt, procrastinating and time wasting, and everything else happened to JUST me. Now I know that nope, that’s how it works for everybody (or almost everybody I guess). That is how we roll :p

So I think recognizing all that negative stuff in your habits is a huge step, and figuring out your own personal ways of overcoming them is too. But it’s really important to forgive yourself for being human and allow yourself time to live.

Oh, other over-and-over tips. Helps tons to have a writing partner. Maybe in your case just an accountability partner? Find someone who will be properly P’ed if you don’t finish something :p Also, being a ridiculo pleasant and awesome person to work with does wonders. Tons of people can write, but not tons of people are amazing to be around. Let yourself network and sell your personality.

Don’t mean any of this to come off as preachy or condescending at ALL For God’s sake you’re a seasoned pro writer and I have done diddly squat. Just wanted to say 1. I admire you, in this case for speaking out about the suckiness, and 2. You’re far from being alone.

Fingers crossed for you!

On the flip side, as the, uh, delay in my output may indicate, writing for the day job means I have very little desire to spend my time at home writing something up unless I’m REALLY into it.

Too much to think about.