What I found to be most striking about all the readings was the inherent level of imagination and foresight necessary to develop interactive fiction whether it be in a gaming format or more of a story like “Galatea.” As a writer, I experienced an overwhelming sense of insecurity with my own art. From the most basic standpoint, my writing is very one-dimensional and traditional by comparison, with short stories following a single narrative (albeit on that has undercurrents and backstories that contribute to the central narrative) and when I’ve written novellas and novels, they’ve attempted to interweave various threads. Despite these conscious attempts, the struggle for me is bringing them to one, singular satisfying ending. What blew my mind in the process of reading about these pick your own poison narratives was not just the level of detail in each level but where it led and how many options were not only available but fully realized by the author.

I have to admit that, although my primary form is textual, I was surprised by how frustrating interactive fiction was for me because it lacked visualization. I struggled to get the right commands to keep the story progressing and tried to limit my cheating with “Galatea.” I’m not a perfectionist for the simple fact that I do not think perfection is truly attainable, yet I was cursed out loud when a command brought back nothing. One thing that I found valuable in this form was the insistence on close reading strategies, because each time I was faced with a failed response, I went back to the previous text to find the keyword or phrase that could move me forward. I was thinking in ways that I never thought before and there was a joy, even in the failures.

While “Galatea” was a challenge, it also felt like one of those fortuitous coincidences where my outside interests find their way into appearing in my reading. In my undergrad and during my MFA, this meant things like reading Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast in Travel Writing while reading The Paris Wife about his wife’s fictionalized experiences during the same time in a contemporary fiction class. “Galatea” seems like the perfect companion piece for Ex Machina which my brother and I just saw last week and thought was fantastic. It’s both a mystery and an exploration of artificial intelligence and its creators. As I read “Galatea,” somehow my appreciation of Ex Machina diminished because I was able to take it in passively from my movie theater seat and didn’t have to work to create the images in the same way I did with “Galatea.” Either way, I am, at once, envious and inspired by both pieces and look forward to opportunities when I can shift my energies and attentions to create works that span or transcend the boundaries of traditional narratives and conceptualizations of the narrative form.

With “My Body,” it was especially helpful to have the initial image of the body with all of the parts labeled as a visualization to which I could mentally refer back to as I read each new passage with the hyperlinks. Also, the links changing color served as a motivator for me because it felt like progress. Especially when I am enjoying literature, film or TV, I feel compelled to keep track of the progress made and what remains, with the latter serving as both a motivator and incentive to slow down. I was late to the homework game tonight because of this very scenario. Because my wife and I had to get up early this morning, we put off watching the finally of Mad Men and had to watch it with dinner, but as we fast forwarded through commercials, we were propelled by excitement while simultaneously experiencing and anticipatory mourning for the inevitable end of the series. The same holds true with a great novel and to some extent, this story too. I anxiously realized I was running out of hyperlinks and didn’t want it to end while simultaneously need to find the resolution. This internal dissonance is a personal indicator of enjoyment and how I identify value in a piece that I’m reading.