On the 100 Days Project, Steve Ersinghaus is writing a fiction a day to match John Timmons’ videos. His pieces aren’t all necessarily stories but rather concepts and scenes and characters that pop in and out. Today’s piece is a visual map of a hypertext and it really is cool: the generic path protocol
I first became aware of the Electronic Literature Organization either in a Contemporary Literature class or New Media and have visited it now and then, mostly to find some new pieces along with the classics. There hadn’t been a lot of new input added in the resources or the literary works in the last few years but that seems to have changed lately, with a more concerted effort to find and add new work to the ELO Directory.
Scene II: I’ve got a hundred hypertext pieces on my hands from last summer’s 100 Days Project and while the whole thing was a learning process and some still would benefit from some editing, I would like to have them read. That is, after all, the reason we writers write. I’d considered publishing the body of work as a whole, either on an updated, dedicated site or on DVD and for the past years, I’ve submitted a few of them that I thought were particularly good whether for story or form, reworked with images or presentation but had little success. It’s a hard sell, despite the fact that most literary journals are online these days and if ever the time is right for hypertext, it’s now. Hypertext demands a reader’s attention; not all editors trust their readers I guess.
Scene III: I realized today that this body of work has been reviewed and listed at the ELO Directory and this just made the whole project and the work and time involved more than a creative exercise and hypertext learning process. I am positively thrilled, knowing that there is a permanent spot for my work on the ELO bookshelf and that the stories have a good chance at being read over the years by new media enthusiasts.
Another of my pieces, Blueberries which was published by The New River Review, is at the Directory and I’m in the company of some great talent and great friends like Steve Ersinghaus, Diane Greco, Alan Bigelow, Dorothee Lang and of course, the writers I studied, Montfort, Joyce, Moulthrop, Jackson and more. I’m honored and just plain happy.
Added note: Mark Bernstein has an excellent post on the Directory and makes some good points about some classic hypertext pieces that should be there. I’d say that his collaboration with Greco, Reading Hypertext, would be a welcome if not necessary addition as well.
Been playing in Tinderbox the last few days, trying to update the Literary Endeavors file with all current submissions–both straight and hypertext, stories and poetry–and it’s intensive. This is only because I’m backtracking with hundreds of bits of data from emails, spreadsheets, bookmarks and their websites, that have accumulated over the past maybe six months actively, though some of the info is on older stories and such that were sent out in spurts of ambition over the past few years, with years in between.
I’m caught up to a point that tells me a few things. One, the design of the Tinderbox file changes with the input; while I loved the threads of links from work to venue and luckily, was smart enough not to put return trails for all replies, a pattern established itself that proved itself to be the best way of keeping track of things at a glance at the mapview. This set a new method of linking submission to publisher.
What I’ve decided on now is to link from the story box to the venue via the publisher’s name, and including the name of the story within the publisher’s box. Doing it this way, I can see exactly how many and which stories are out there awaiting replies. When a reply comes in, the link is either deleted (with the date entered within the boxes) or turned into a happy bold red acceptance link from publisher to story.
Another thing this mapview tells me at a glance is that I don’t currently have much in the pipeline!
So here comes the next project on the agenda: to write, rewrite, throw away into the black hole, or send out, some stuff. The most important will be rewriting–and this includes the hypertext pieces that were done over last summer. It’s hard to find a home for a hypertext; so until these have been placed somewhere in some form, I discounted the initial idea of writing a hundred more this summer for the 100 Days Project. On the other hand, the discipline of a deadline worked for me…
Which means that while not a part of it, I’ll possibly be setting up a goal for myself to do X every day (for a grand total of 100 Xs) alongside the project–just outside the fence. What I’m thinking of now is either a hypertext poem (short and easy) or a short story a day, just enough to leave time for two other concepts I’ve been putting off–stretchtext and another flash piece or a movie.
And, of course, the garden, reading, and sitting around drinking wine.
This in, a link to what Steve Ersinghaus had spent 24 hours working on at the Tunxis Art Marathon.
Though I crept out at daybreak, just three hours short of completing the Tunxis 24-hour Arts Marathon (I’d run out of creative juice and was feeling a bit grumpy) I did manage to complete a new hypertext story during the first half of the session. Thanks to all who participated, and particularly Carianne Mack Garside for hosting this annual event which for the first time included a gallery classroom for creative writers along with the art, sculpture, and photography which drew the largest number of students. And of course to Professors Steve Ersinghaus and Jesse Abbot who oversaw the writing division, and fellow writers, Dan, Nick, Trent, Megan, and others who drifted in and out to spend some time writing and sharing. Steve did quite a bit of work on a new novel that he’s been considering, Jesse wrote a poem and recorded a great audio I hope to find online soon, and I know that Nick, Trent, Dan, and Megan were close to completing their own short stories and animations during this period.
So I offer now, since I couldn’t upload it online direct from campus, and after a couple hours’ sleep:
Stacey Mason at Eastgate (Tinderbox and Storyspace) has an interesting concept up over at HLit: what about reading hypertext aloud.
Inspired perhaps by Finnegan Flawnt’s extraordinary reading voice rather than my own little ditty he’s reading, she weighs the possibilities and decides “The thought of a work and a user interacting back and forth through sound to create a narrative is worth exploring.”
I like her inquisitive nature and the willingness to project ideas way beyond their intent. And, this is a damn good idea too. What came instantly to my mind is the robot helpers you get on the phone that can understand your responses to direct you step by step to a resolution (or a real person who can intercept and help). I could well envision a voice-activated reading of a hypertext, whether the reader says a linking word aloud and thus moves the narrative forward, or how’s this, totally phone conversationally driven where an obvious link (perhaps obvious by tone or inflection) is offered to the listener who then repeats a word or phrase to direct the story to their own choice.
This sounds like an interesting project, audio controlled hypertext. I’m sure touch-text is already in the making with the touch-screens, and visual images will play a big part in that endeavor. But Stacey’s come up with a pattern of thought here that I hope she pursues.
Thought I’d point to an interview I recently did over at Fictionaut about hypertext and new media in general. I had formed a Hypertext Group within this online writers colony and am thrilled to encourage interest and find a receptive and curious audience there.
At Facebook there is some commentary between myself and Finnegan Flawnt, who just recently started playing with the Tinderbox program, that entertains the question of new media being metafictional by nature. It is worth thinking about, if perhaps even the simplest hypertext is in fact calling attention to the act of writing by its visual invitation to interact with the text.
We’ve gotten used to seeing text as thoughts and read them not as signs and symbolic marks upon a background (think of looking at a page of Chinese writing when you can’t read the language), but see the idea presented in the pattern formed by the letters. Possibly seeing beyond the words and sentences to the images they represent. Hypertext includes links within text of a different and obvious color that is saying something about the text itself and the process of reading it, rather than merely being a part of the story. It’s talking directly to the reader. It’s an interesting way of looking at new media, particularly when it includes audio and visual effects that further call attention to the experience. Is it screaming, louder than the story it presents, “Look at me, I’m a story!”?
I’d posted this at fictionaut, but wanted to repost it here as Hypercompendia’s been sort of a journal of a learning process.
“In just recently having had two hypertext works accepted for publication, I find there is a bit more to the submission process of hyperfiction just as there is to the writing of it.
Word length is an important consideration in all story submissions, and in hypertext, the length of the story read may not necessarily include all the separate sections involved. For example, in one of my pieces, the story can be complete in as little as five pages, or as many as twelve. The word count can be figured out, and the longest form can be the goal to remain within restrictions.
Another factor is styling; some publications that take only new media may require the addition of colored background pages as well as images, film clips, or sound. Others may be set up for, or merely prefer, a simpler more basic text format.
All this, of course, is a simple matter of changing the css and html template so that a story can be tailored to an online magazine’s specific needs.”
I’d add a few additional thoughts here. One, in sending a file to a literary e-zine, while I can get away much easier (and it’s easier reading for them as well) to direct them to my site as a submission link, once something in hypertext has been accepted, it needs to be recoded so that the links all point to the publication’s server. Tinderbox makes this extraordinarily easy by simply coding the html template in Tinderbox for the document and exporting to a file on my own drive from there. And then, I can easily send the whole file out to the wonderful editor who accepted the piece for publication. This takes a lot of the reluctance out of the editorial process and I make sure to include the offer upfront “should a piece be accepted.”
As ya’ll know, I’m a stark-raving maniac when it comes to my love of hypertext fiction and that, teamed with my overbearing, hard-headed, determined to make people see it-nature, made for a rather unhappy and tormented artistic soul at best since I can’t always have my own way.
Persistence is key; persistence and insistence can swiftly become unbearable to those upon whom it is focused. Even with my own experience of hypertext (and IF I might add) being one of cursing and slamming fists onto keyboards (I’m small but highly volatile) I still sought an avenue that was gold-paved and happy-treelined and as invitational and welcoming as possible.
And then came Maude. Maude Nichols was the fun, learning experience of hypertext. It is not put-offish, it’s a humorous easy read, it directly relates to the reader, and it looks like it’s brought in some writers interested in the medium now that it doesn’t seem so scary.
I belong to an online writers community called Fictionaut and the writing quality there, I must say, is phenomenal overall (I’m in awe and feel like I’m reading the best of the best contemporary short story writers and poets around). I’m easily intimidated but what the hell, I threw in a couple flash fiction pieces I wrote specifically for posting and then a hypertext piece. The piece was The Perfect Woman (also, like Maude, one of the 100 hypertexts from last summer’s project) and got a bit of interest. A few weeks later, I put up Maude. Maude now has twelve “favs” to it and more importantly, the comments indicate that these seasoned writers like the medium; had fun with it; some even impressed enough to try their own hand at it.
I just love it.
One of the hardest things for me to accept in my writing was to not only give up my work to the reader, but let him decipher it for himself, thus risking complete misunderstanding of “my” story. Beaten into submission by several Creative Writing and Literature courses taught by one harder-headed than I, and faced with the scowling sardonic Roland Barthes as my new theological icon, I reluctantly let the concept of writerly filter into my soul and take it into my heart.
As part of the literary group Fictionaut, I just put up one of my hypertext pieces “Maude Nichols” to share with the membership and boy, I can’t tell you how excited I was to read this comment from writer Finnegan Flawnt:
“Finally, “Maude Nichols” is a wonderful title/name. Harold and Maude, Harvey Nichols…etc. very well done. the habitual “love it” that overcomes me often when i read your stuff seems strangely inappropriate. you somehow let go of this fiction as an author…most fascinating!”
Ohmigod–did you read that? “you somehow let go of this fiction as an author..most fascinating!” (Are you reading this, Steve? Are you believin’ it?)
Hypertext to me has been a major step in the right direction of “letting go” of my work and giving it to the reader to then “rewrite” via his own opinions and experience. For one thing, it appears to give full control to the reader but in truth, the writer must lay out all paths, all the different ways of getting from a)the beginning to c) the end no matter what steps are used to get there. While the writer has limited control (guidance at best) on which particular steps (writing spaces/links) the reader may choose, he will have planned each out carefully so he is in fact writing the same story many different ways; just as a reader will read it differently than another reader, or even than himself in a future reading.
Believe me, you don’t know how difficult it was for this control freak to give up the wheel and allow some reader to risk his own interpretation of my stories. It’s taken years, but I think I’m there now, in a happy place where I can smile as someone takes my words and runs helter skelter with them spilling out all over the hillside. This revelation is extremely exciting to me as a writer. It’s like winning a contest, breaking the ribbon, just plain feeling good.
