Hi friends,
Itās February, and Iām back with the final edition of this newsletter!
I intended to send this out at week 10 of the project, comfortably before the end of 2022, and itās nowā¦week 16 𤦠and the beginning of February 2023 ā°š±. Butā¦allās well that ends well! Iāve just posted a story that Iām very proud of, and Iām so excited to share it with you all. So without any further delay, here it is: the illustrated interactive āLife Storyā!
(An aside: I know the title āLife Storyā is supremely unimaginative ā if you have any better title ideas, please send them my way!)
Readers who have been following the development of the story will notice that, while there are a few constants ā a female protagonist who is obsessed with the Game of Life, a close friend who shares the protagonistās interest ā the narrative Iām sharing today is substantially different from the fragments Iāve shared so far. Thatās because I spent the week before Christmas cutting and rewriting the story in response to a subscriberās feedback (thanks, Nadine! ā¤ļø). Whatās left is simpler, tighter, and ā I hope ā better!
In defense of the tardiness of this final edition of the newsletter, I havenāt been idle over the five weeks since I finished working on the text of the story. Iāve been hard at work on the code powering the interactive Life simulations which are interleaved with the text of the story. If youāre interested in how I got these simulations working, Iāve written up a blog post describing the technical challenges and added an overview of the pageās technical design to the README for the code repository.
Before I conclude this final dispatch, some reflections:
Sharing my work every week on this newsletter has been good for me. It has forced me to focus on getting to āgood enoughā as quickly as possible. It has forced me to write rather than procrastinate with research.
I obviously underestimated how long it would take me to write the code powering the website. And I didnāt share any of that process on this newsletter. Then again, I didnāt need to. Itās easier for me to get excited about writing code than writing prose. Looking back, I see that I spent three times as much time coding (!) over the past five weeks than I did writing prose over the previous nine weeks. I find this a bit dispiriting, because this was supposed to be a writing project, not a coding project. Still, I know why it turned out that way. All that coding was hard work, but I looked forward to it, because I knew I was making progress. I find writing prose much more mysterious and uncertain. Iām never sure how much progress Iām making ā or whether Iāve made progress at all ā during a writing session.
Without the self-imposed obligation to share something every week and the (admittedly overstretched) 10-week deadline, I might not have had anything to share untilā¦months? a year? from now (I fiddled with this idea for more than a year before starting work on it in earnest). So: thank you for holding me accountable!
On efficiency: I suspect that perhaps 35% of the code I wrote made it into the final page (I scrapped the first version of the code, written in Elm, for performance reasons; along the way, I also tried and discarded a bunch of attempts to improve performance in Elm).
On the storytelling side, roughly 25% of the scenes I wrote made it into the version of the story Iām sharing today (4/17 scenes), though this accounted for only 10% of the total text I produced over the course of working on the story (including research, notes, questions, and half-baked ideas).
That may sound low, but itās much higher than the last big writing project I worked on, where less than 2% of the text I produced was fit for the final draft. So, on balance, Iām pretty happy with a 25% success rate.
Of course, thereās still room for improvement. Why did I cut 75% of the scenes I wrote? And how could I have written those scenes differently so that more of them were fit for the current version of the story?
The scenes I discarded can all be traced to two ideas:
Both were bad ideas because they expanded the scope of the story beyond what I was capable of taking on in ten weeks.
Using the idea of stability to motivate the protagonist required me to invent a bunch of new Life patterns (or at least, come up with some new plausible conjectures about what those patterns might look like). This proved difficult!
I want STEM to be more welcoming for women. But when I tried to write about the protagonistās travails as a woman in a hostile STEM environment, I felt I didnāt have anything original to offer. Everything I wrote was recycled. For me, the most satisfying part of this effort was an interview I conducted with one of my college math professors to understand her experience as a woman in STEM during my protagonistās time period. Her experiences were fresh and specific and infuriating in a way that my stock tales of workplace discrimination were not. If sheās willing, Iād love to write up that interview and share it later this year.
I discarded some bad ideas early, like the idea that the protagonist should be Latina ā remember when Mariam was briefly named Mira with siblings Diego and Gloria? (because, I reasoned to myself, why not?) ā a bad idea because I know nothing about what itās like to be Latina. In the future, Iād like to recognize more of these scope-expanding bad ideas sooner and squash them so I can stay focused on the story I set out to create.
Anyway, enough reflection.
This is the last dispatch of this special-purpose, 10-issue newsletter. If youāve enjoyed this story and want to stay up-to-date with what Iām working on next, the best way to do that is to subscribe to my main newsletter. A sneak preview of what I plan to share there over the next few months:
Thanks for following along as Iāve worked on this short story. It means a lot to me that you believed in me and my work enough to sign up and keep reading.
So long,
Justin