"I could write better characters than this!" You think so?

[Racthoh]

The problem I have with my own writing is that I don't have anything to compare it to. I hate reading as a result of all the trash public school force fed me over the years, not to mention the near fails in English high school classes because I'd skim over every book we were assigned. I can read my own stuff just fine, and I get really into it, but whether or not that's because it's really gripping or just an ego thing I don't really know.

 

[CplDustov]

I have plans to write stories about a zombie who drives around Britain in a double-decker bus with monster-truck wheels...

I'm fairly certain it's interesting.

haha awsome. that's pretty damn ... I'm not sure there's a word for that.

 

[Angryman101]

Like every self-righteous guy who's spent enough time looking at different media to notice the character trends, I've thought that, were I to write a story, my characters would be more interesting/believable/likeable than those we see over and over again.

I've just spent the past four days reading through a story which has shown me that that just isn't he case. Any and all characters I've ever penned have been just as bad, if not worse, than those I ended up being bored of, since all the 'interesting' aspects I added to my characters were gimmicks, skin-deep falsities that did nothing to make the character better than average.

I'm eternally grateful that I've seen this, and while I don't write very often, I'll try to keep in mind what I've learned for the future.

Anyone else had any experience like this, where you think you've got the grasp of media but it surprises you in a wonderful way?

(Keep it respectful, if you're gonna post specific examples of media then don't flame anyone else if you don't agree that their choice has been an inspiring one for them).

As a writer myself, I'll tell you right now that the constant fear that your characters are flat and uninteresting is a good thing; it drives you to improve, to constantly second guess yourself and to practice. Every time I write, I get angry with myself over how terrible the character's dialogue is or how it doesn't suit his character quite right, and so I constantly produce more drafts, try to round out my characters, develop their individual personalities. That is what makes you a good writer (well, a good character writer, anyway).

SNIPPY

It's okay to talk when you have my talent.

Hah! Big words, madame >

I'm a writer.

I know I can write better characters than 99.9% of the design community.

Ok, here's the real question, if we're talking about video game writing.

Can you write a compelling story and characters around eight hours of set pieces that are already decided and in place? You can't change any of them, and they all involve a medium sized room full of people you shoot at.

You get 20 minutes of cutscenes and not a minute more.

You also have to write 800 lines of incidental voiceover dialogue that will be relayed over the radio. Half of those will be descriptions of the game's objectives. The other half will be colour. You need three variations on each of the colour lines.

When you're done, half of what you've written will be scrapped and you'll have to come up with something different *but you can't touch the other half*. It all needs to makes sense at the end.

You also have three days to do this last rewrite.

Feel up to it?

I don't care who you are, many if not most of the writers in any media industry are better than you. It's not about the writing, it's about writing for the format under production constraints. All of the above applies to movies and TV as well.

Can you write episode 6 of a series? It needs to be understandable without having seen the other five. Also, the plot of that episode must also be understandable if you join after each act break, so basically two thirds of what happens can't be relevant at all. Oh, and you only get to put in one thing that has relevance to the ongoing plot. And you don't get to decide what it is. Everything else must reset at the end of the episode.

It's all about working within the medium. Most people who call themselves writers but haven't been paid to write before tend to think they are better than they really are. As in, much better. As in, they are normally terrible at it, they just don't know. But even if they're good, it's one thing to do it at home, on a spec, all the time in the world and no creative constraints and a very different one to pull it off on deadline, with external impositions and mandated rewrites.

In my experience, if you aren't making a living out of it and you don't know exactly how weak your writing is and why, it's typically all the way weak. There is some comfort in knowing what you can't pull off. At least you get a clear view of the path to improvement.

That sounds a lot more fun than challenging. And no, with today's advanced methods of getting your work out there, luck is not required to succeed. You just need to be so good that you can't be ignored.

 

[RTK1576]

Snip.

I don't care who you are, many if not most of the writers in any media industry are better than you. It's not about the writing, it's about writing for the format under production constraints. All of the above applies to movies and TV as well.

It's all about working within the medium. Most people who call themselves writers but haven't been paid to write before tend to think they are better than they really are. As in, much better. As in, they are normally terrible at it, they just don't know. But even if they're good, it's one thing to do it at home, on a spec, all the time in the world and no creative constraints and a very different one to pull it off on deadline, with external impositions and mandated rewrites.

In my experience, if you aren't making a living out of it and you don't know exactly how weak your writing is and why, it's typically all the way weak. There is some comfort in knowing what you can't pull off. At least you get a clear view of the path to improvement.

Fascinating portrait of media writing. It explains a lot.

I must say, however, that while your response was designed for a particular target, you may have irked a few of us unintentially. H.P. Lovecraft died broke. Emily Dickinson had a post-mortem writing career thanks to her sister perserving the body of her work. Do these literary greats not deserve their historical kudos because they couldn't make a living at it at the time?

 

[Standby]

I get this all the fucking time. I think, "Hey, maybe I'm doing alright now! Maybe my characters are good and well thought-out, and my storyline is looking good too!"

Then I watch something like Firefly or Crash and just give up on life. Some writers are just born to do what they do, it's looking as if I'm not one of those writers. Still, I'm young and all the big writers I know are into their 30's. I guess I still got time to take it easy and think on some ideas.

I'm a writer.

I know I can write better characters than 99.9% of the design community.

Now, I'm saying this in the nicest way possible:

No. You can't.

That's funny. I didn't think you knew me or anything at all about me. Oh, wait - you don't.

I can see that you're cocky - that's pretty obvious. And by the simple fact that you ARE cocky, I can safely assume you think you're much better than you are. That doesn't mean you're not good, I'm not saying that. What I am saying however is that the chances of you being the best writer out of 1000 people? I reckon that'd be a feat too far. I'd go with a safer number, like 80%.

That's a pretty silly statement, considering you know nothing about me.

One of the world's best writers could post a comment and you could say the same thing.

Poor logic, sweetie.

Could you be so kind as to actually give us an example of your work that has been published?

 

[CrazyMedic]

I think the only time I wrote a believable character was when he was me, and I was basically wrighting a fictionalized account of my life.

 

[Angryman101]

snip

I never said you could jump right in and be a runaway hit, nor did I say that hard work is not necessary to become successful; God, no. You need to work your god damn ass off to refine your natural talents into something marketable, to get a spot in the industry, and to accrue the necessary contacts. What I did say, however, is that luck is not required. If you're smart about finding the right avenues in which to market your talent, there is no way you can not be at least a moderate success. Most amateur writers, as you put it, are not smart about marketing their talents-they fruitlessly pursue dead-end opportunities and specialize too early, unable to see the bigger picture and where they fall in it. As long as you hold the talent and skills necessary to market yourself, persistence and clear, attainable short term goals leading to the desired end result will inevitably lead to success. The only luck involved is in whether or not you receive the natural talent and intelligence necessary to be a good businessperson.

 

[boholikeu]

SNIPPY

It's okay to talk when you have my talent.

Yet again you aviod my request. if your so amazing you'd want to share your works yet you dont you just talk. So yet again. successful troll is successful. Its odd i ussualy dont see that many on this site. That ussualy takes place in the Religon and politics board.

Or perhaps I don't have anything to prove? When you know you're good, you don't need others reminding you.

Troll? Ha. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

Actually I'm kinda curious about your writing as well. If you're as good as you claim you are it'd be a nice change of pace to read your stuff as opposed to the tons of junk you usually find from amateur writers on the Internet.

 

[Cheesus333]

Crap, another thread based loosely around a talent of mine that I'm proud of... time for another blow to my self-esteem!

I suppose it's fair to say that my protagonistss tend to be the same person, because - for the time being, at least - I write in my own voice. I use myself as a mouthpiece for the reader, and therefore the main character (and narrator) is essentially me. When I introduce other characters they tend to be fairly varied though, but I'd still like to get out of the habit of making my main characters clichés.

Thank you, I suppose I should say. It's hard to realise your own follies until someone anonymous makes you see them.

 

[Casual Shinji]

SNIPPY

It's okay to talk when you have my talent.

Damn, you really are writer aren't ya?

You certainly have the attitude down.

 

[Casual Shinji]

If you're not writing for the sake of your own personal happiness, then don't write. Writing isn't a contest where you have to out-do someone. If you use that kind of logic when creating, you won't create from your own soul.

Right you are, good Sir. I've got the same problem, but with drawing.

I can draw pretty damn good, but whenever I see a cartoon or comic with great art I think to myself; 'God, I wish I could be that good'. And right after reading through Berserk, my self-esteem took a huge plunge.

But I always try to remind myself that I'm me and I draw for myself and that's okay ........for now

 

[Beliyal]

I've been writing since I was 12 (well, I was writing before too, but I take the age of 12 as my first official non-school related long writing work). When I started writing more, I thought everything that spewed out of my pen (I started writing by hand, yes; I still have tons of filled notebooks) was epic and beyond interesting. Still, a few months after I wrote something, I tended to notice mistakes and stupidities. It continued throught my writing history. When I write, at that moment, it seems great. Six months later and I ask myself if I owned a brain back then. I believe that's important, because it shows progress. You see how much you evolved and how much experience you gained. And you can't write a successful character without experience (life experience as well as writing experience).

Writing is a long process. Not just based on how long it takes you to write something, but the important factor is also the agelessness of your writing. If it sounds stupid a few months after, it means it's not as good as you thought it is. If it sounds great even after a long periods of time, it means you're on to something. I started experiencing the latter some two years back. It took me eight years to get to the point where I could write something, let it go for a year, come back to read it again after that time and be happy with it. It didn't happen over night, it wasn't easy, and I'm fairly sure it can't be achieved when you're still a teenager. I don't think teenagers are incapable; they're extremely well at writing when it's their lovable hobby, but, as did I, so will every teenager pass the point when they'll see how much they changed and how much they gained from life and it will be reflected in their writing. Your writing can be exquisite even when you're 17 or 18, but it will be better after, no matter what. And you will see how many things you could improve. Well, except if you're a writing child prodigy. Exceptions are possible. But the majority of people are not. And the most important thing in writing is; writing. May sound silly, but I've seen people who love to write, but spend more time planing to write than writing. It's a no-no; write as much as possible, whenever possible, whatever possible. It'll give you a routine and practice, as well as insight about your preferences.

I don't think I'm yet capable of making "better" characters than some. I've read books that were terrible and I wished I had the guts to try to publish some of my works, but I believe there's more work to be done before I could do so. Out of respect for the reader; I wouldn't want to sell half-assed fanservice books because I'm impatient. And to reach the suitable level of good character making, I think I have a few more years to work. Because, they will get better with time, no matter what. Until then, I have my friends to read what I write and give me advices on what they think. That's also extremely important. If you think your characters are great, you might want to check that with a few other people.

 

[Offworlder_v1legacy]

I've realised whenever write a song it's always the same strumming pattern. The Down-Down-Up-Down-Up-Repeat method and the lyrics always seem to be hate filled or really bland. I've tried to write epics but the story just did't come.

As for writing, I don't do it as much as I should. I got through about a chapter and a half before I stopped, it had some fairly interesting characters. I just think of the craziest thing that pops into my head, then create a backstory, a scenario and a location. It's basically improv stand up.

 

[Liberaliter]

I'm a writer.

I know I can write better characters than 99.9% of the design community.

It's easy to call yourself a writer, but I'm 99.9% sure you can't write for crap, just like all the other thousands of people who go around calling themselves writers.

 

[Lost In The Void]

I have never really looked at something and said "I could do better," since in all reality I don't want to try to be better than someone; why bother after all? Writing for me has never been anything but a hobby and when you do too much of it, it stops being fun; at least that was the case for me. Since I took a sort of break, I've been able to write again which is great since I'm in a few RPs.

As for side projects, since we all seem to be mentioning them; I'm working on a five part short story, since...about April on and off....though mostly off since about Mid-June. The first piece has been all over the place; I haven't really showcased what I've finished in the second half so I guess I'll throw that out here too; so far its only about 2200 words but i'm hoping to make each section a minimum of 1500 words; just waiting for the spark to strike again.

Spoiler: Voidus

It was called Voidus. It was the newest parasite to strike the world. No one knew where it had come from, but it was spreading like wild fire in Japan and surrounding nations. Though the infection had initially been easily contained, it soon began to resist treatment and spread like mad throughout the Eastern Asian area. Danielle Breziek was running her first World Health Organization project here in Japan. She had always had a passion for helping the sick, first working in a children's hospital in London, before joining the U.N back in 2008. Now two years later, she had already become a senior medical advisor to the U.N Security Council and it was her who suggested they send aid to a failing Japanese nation. She was beginning to regret it though as she saw the line ups of infected, most of them looking completely fine, but for some nausea and coughing. Due to the paranoia ensued by the plague, thousands of the people at each camp were most likely fine, or had a small cold, but they couldn't turn any away.

Danielle's patients, for the most part seemed normal, lining up to get the vaccination thanking her and leaving. Her last patient for the day would prove to be a catalyst in ending Danielle's stunning career forever. The woman carried a small child with her, wrapped in a ragged blanket. You could tell that she was poor, most likely one of the few who lived on the street. The corners of her mouth were coated in red saliva, a sure sign of infection. Danielle knew that she shouldn't be scared, she had been vaccinated before she came to the country, but she worried all the same as the woman, no older than 19 brought the small child to her, "私の娘、彼女は熱を有する [My daughter, she has a fever," the woman almost threw the child into Danielle's arms, "彼女を、彼女ある私が持っているすべてが直しなさい [Please heal her, she is all I have.]"
Danielle took the small child in her arms and noticed that immediately something was amiss; the child was stiff in her arms and instead of being warm, as the mother had described her, she was cold as ice. Shaking slightly Danielle brought her stethoscope to the girl's chest and listened for a heartbeat. There was none. The mother immediately noticed the looked in Danielle's eyes and began to shriek and babble in quick, broken Japanese. Danielle was able to get the words "Murderer" and "Baby" before the mother lost all comprehensibility and jumped at Danielle, much to the surprise of the U.N guard standing near her. The men in blue helmets pulled the screaming woman off of the startled and scared doctor. The woman then began to hack and cough and pun over so her stomach was pressed onto the ground, where she continued to cough, seemingly oblivious to the people around her. She was given a wide berth as the cough changed from a dry one to a wet hacking sound and a thin spray of blood spewed from her mouth onto the pavement. Soon she was still just like the baby that she had given Danielle to try and heal. Danielle couldn't help but tear up when she saw the woman's corpse, her baby, laying on her chest, carried away to be burned with the rest of the corpses.

Danielle wasn't the same for the rest of her shift in Japan. She woke up in a cold sweat, shaking, her dreams of the woman and her child preventing her from getting proper sleep. Soon the other supervisors took notice and sent word to the World Health Organization. They concluded she was under severe depression and stress and told her to return to London as soon as possible. She was to undergo therapy when she returned and would be welcomed back to work after she was deemed fit to resume. Danielle was devastated, her work with medical diseases was her life and she didn't know what she would do without it. She boarded the plane home and began the long trip home.

She awoke from a nap on her plane ride with a small coughing fit. Excusing herself from her window seat to the angry scowls of an older couple she ran to the bathroom stall where the coughing intensified greatly until she felt like she was about to cough up one of her lungs. Finally the cough subsided and she removed her hands from her mouth, where she saw the thin spray of blood across them. Wiping them clean on a paper towel in a panic and leaving the bathroom stall she sat back down in her seat. She felt a small cough erupting again so she asked the nearest flight attendant for a glass of water. She took a small sip and felt the fit relax as she sat back in her seat again and began to sleep, her mind at rest. That couldn't be said about the elderly couple beside her. They saw the red rim that wasn't lipstick along the cup she had just drunk. They chose to ignore it and just pretended they hadn't seen anything.
The flight ended without incident and Danielle began her life of therapy. His name was Micah Smith, a well-known expert in depression and anxiety issues in people after their post-war returns. He was fascinated by Danielle's quick decline and he immediately took her case on. She spoke of the incident with the woman quite frequently and Micah noted that she grew paler and shallower with each day she saw him. He made a note and put her under suicide watch with someone to check on her each day. Danielle wanted to get better and every day she went to see Micah seemed like a step in the right direction. Despite the sharing that she got to experience with her therapist, she could not feel herself getting better. The voices still screamed at her in the night, the weakness of depression and the chills of repressed memories caused her daily pains every night. It was as if the entire world was against her. Soon she was on medication for depression, a necessary evil, as Micah had called it.
It was the first week into therapy that more began to go wrong in Danielle's life and she sank into an even deeper depression. She could barely get out of bed anymore, only rising to partake in eating and regular bathroom breaks to throw up what she had just eaten. Her frame grew frailer and her hair began to fall out, a side effect of the malnutrition, Micah said and she believed him. For a while at least; soon though the screaming girl and the stiff baby that punctured her sleep at night began to lead her to believe she was more than just depressed. She was insane; the baby had been alive and she had killed it and in relation killed the mother out of grief. This is when Micah grew concerned. She was beginning to become delusional. He would get her into tests as soon as possible. He booked an appointment for her to meet with another specialist; he cited bias as the reason. Danielle was devastated once again, why had he abandoned her to this new doctor. He thought she was insane as well and he couldn't be with her anymore. That had to be it. Danielle decided that she would confront him about it in their next session.

That night Danielle woke up, in a cold sweat as usual. She had grown used to this in the two weeks she had been home. She took two of the Prozac that Micah had prescribed for her depression. She always had trouble keeping them down and today was no different. After the glass of water she stumbled to the bathroom where she began to vomit violently, spewing not food, but blood into the toilet. She realized that she was in trouble and began to move towards the phone, feeling her body growing weaker. Her head was spinning and he had trouble remembering what she was trying to do. Soon she was hit with another coughing fit and she sank to the floor coughing into the floor unable to move. She reached for the phone and dialled a number. She was just about to hit the "Talk" button and dial out, but she felt the world fading around her and she closed her eyes, falling into her last sleep and the phone tone beeped once and deleted the number she was trying to reach.

Micah checked his phone, she hadn?t called in for three days now, and at this point that was major concerns. He had waited for one reason only; to make sure that he had cleared up any problems that might have been seen as unprofessional between he and Danielle. Now it was time to call the police and have them see if she was ok. He doubted she was, he knew she was depressed and he tried to fix it. Laughter wasn?t the best medicine but what he did was, at least for himself. Did what he did to his female cliental make him a bad person? Perhaps but no one would believe a mental patient?s word against the word of one of the top authorities on mental health. It was the perfect life he was living. Sex for healing, both for him and his clients and if one killed herself over it; well they were always mentally unstable.

It was 4:15pm the third day after Danielle?s death that she was discovered in her home. She was immediately labelled under ?suspicious death? and rushed into the mortuary for examination. She was found to have trace amounts of antidepressants and other various medications for mental instability. This was strange as she was only on record as seeing a psychologist and they could not prescribe medications. Micah Smith was brought under review. The examination took weeks, he was prodded by police, and detectives monitored his sessions without his consent. He could not figure out what everyone was so paranoid about, he had only given a patient drugs, this was something that could be swept under the table normally. He hoped that the controversy would blow over soon; it was killing his sex life.

Soon enough it was over and he could return to his work. The investigation had him very stressed and he had been sick a lot recently. He hated what that investigation had done to him. His cliental had moved to other specialists and he was left with the deranged, the ones he couldn?t exploit because of their insanity and it was killing him, he needed to get his fix.

He walked home after a long day of convincing someone that cats were not to be feared and was looking forward to his night time routine with his laptop and a little lubrication. This was the only way he was keeping himself sane while having this stomach flu and working extra hours to make up for his lost cliental. The answer his prayers stood in front of him though, his angel in fishnet stockings and a low top. He smiled cruelly and walked up to the woman. He made his presence known with a fist full of hundreds and soon they were in the nearest alley. She had screamed so loud and he loved it. It was more expensive then the Internet, but so much more satisfying. He didn?t even need to know who she was, nor pretend to care.

He woke up the next day, even weaker than the day before and his cough was a dry hacking sound instead of the normal wet cough. He called his receptionist and told her to cancel his appointments for the day, he couldn?t move, it was too much to take. He spent the rest of the evening watching the news, looking for anything interesting. Soon he found it as a cop was found in his home dead, much in the same way as Danielle was. This perplexed him, even disturbed him once he found out that he recognized the poor bastard. It was one of the cops that had interrogated him. That was all the details the reporters had on the story and it stank of someone covering up, or maybe cleaning house. Someone was trying to make sure that he was silenced and they were killing anyone that had to do with him. He huddled deeper into the blankets. Well they weren?t going to get him, not if he had anything to say about it.

Of course; since this was written half a year ago and my writing has evolved considerably since then, I will have to rewrite it again once its done. That's just par for the course when it comes to heavy writing though.

In short I'm not a "writer" I'm a hobbyist

 

[razer17]

I'm a writer.

I know I can write better characters than 99.9% of the design community.

I'm liking the pun there.

I'm a writer.

I know I can write better characters than 99.9% of the design community.

No you cant. Thats just blatent iggnorance or you have a severe god complex. Either way your wrong.

I hate how everyone whos not in the industry has a self rightous veiw thinking there better then anyone in the industry. They got in the industry for a reason.

No offence, but I'm not going to take the word of a man who uses such shoddy spelling and grammar, when defending the writing community.

 

[zarsu]

I don't know if any character I can make up is original, or better than any game character.
But it might be fun to try and see if I could