I long for the simplicity of theatre. I want lessons learned, comeuppances delivered, people sorted out, all before your bladder gets distractingly full. That's what I want. What I know is what we all know, whether we'll admit it or not: every attempt to impose the roundness of a well-made play on reality produces a disaster. Life just isn't so, nor will it be made so.
We're all living on borrowed time. The trick is to come up with works of sufficient interest to pay off the debt.
Every book is three books, after all; the one the writer intended, the one the reader expected, and the one that casts its shadow when the first two meet by moonlight.
Observe, don't imitate.
We're not lost. We're locationally challenged
Well, it's an adventure story, and a Bildungsroman, of course, but there was also the intention to describe a culture that had been seen in rather narrow terms.
There are readers who want every point to be clearly and unambiguously set forth, and there are those who want to pry ideas and meanings out for themselves.
The language fictional characters use is chosen for effect, at least if the author is concentrating.
There are people who believe in an absolutely transparent prose; with every respect for clarity of expression, I don't.
Creating the fictional background for a game world isn't significantly different from creating a background for fiction.
I don't think anyone wants a reader to be completely lost - certainly not to the point of giving up - but there's something to be said for a book that isn't instantly disposable, that rewards a second reading.
At one point I intended to write precursor and sequel novels, about the establishment of the Web and its next evolution, but I am very unlikely to now; they would take place in a different universe.
If I were to write Web now, it would be a much, much darker book.
Sometimes the reader will decide something else than the author's intent; this is certainly true of attempts to empirically decipher reality.
I'm very happy that the New York Times has spoken well of my stuff; who wouldn't be? But it's not a choice I made.
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