alices_nightmare

by Jonathan Green

  From there I set about writing the outline for the adventure itself, which is pretty much like a sales pitch for the book. It has to explain clearly and concisely everything that anyone would need to know about the gamebook, and is often the thing that will ultimately lead to the book being commissioned. As a result, it is important not to miss anything out – especially not the dramatic denouement.

  The outline includes an overview of the book, summarising the plot in a single sentence, a brief explanation of the rules, highlighting any unusual attributes, and a breakdown of the structure of the adventure. Because of the very nature of gamebooks, as well as describing what happens if you follow the correct path through the book, I also outline what happens on side quests and red herring routes. I break the synopsis into clearly defined areas and it is whilst writing this proposal that I often finalise certain areas of the adventure within my own mind. I find this such a useful part of the process that I would create an outline like this for a gamebook even if I wasn’t having to pitch it to anyone else to get it commissioned.

  By this point I have a rough idea of how many paragraphs each encounter will take up in the final adventure, although during the writing of the book itself this can change quite dramatically, forcing a detailed re-structuring of some sections. So with the outline complete, and with my maps and pages of notes to hand, I set about writing the adventure.

  People ask me, when I sit down to write a gamebook – or interactive novel, as some people prefer to call them – whether I write the ‘one true path’ (i.e. the correct route through the adventure) first and then add in all the wild goose chases and extra encounters later, or whether I write all the alternating routes at the same time. The truth is, the first thing I write is the first thing you will read. This means I’ll start with the introduction, followed by the rules, and then the background to the adventure – the bit that comes after the rules but before the numbered sections. This means that when I start writing the branching paths of the adventure, I have the setting and peculiarities of the book locked down in my mind and I’m already fully immersed in the world I’m creating for that particular adventure. Once I’ve set the scene for myself and the reader, I set about writing section 1.

  What makes a gamebook different from any other form of literature is that the reader is given the opportunity to alter the course of the story on a regular basis, as they progress through its pages. A personal bugbear of mine, when it comes to gamebooks, is when the reader isn’t actually given a choice. Either this is because the choice they’re presented with is a trick – the route through the forest and the path across the plain both lead to the town with no extra elements added to the journey along the way, no matter which route they choose – or the reader is presented with a series of paragraphs that end with the words ‘Now turn to’ and only give one option. In my opinion this is lazy plotting and isn’t what a choose-able path adventure gamebook should be. If you want to write a novel, write a novel. If you want to write a gamebook, make sure you give the reader plenty of opportunities to choose what happens next. Sometimes the structure of the adventure will inevitably lead to a series of single turn-tos, but if they’re just there to pad out the paragraph quota the gamebook’s author (and, by default, its designer) has not done their job properly.

  When I plan a gamebook I work out a number of scenes or encounters (roughly 20 in a 400 section adventure) so that when I come to write it, I do so scene by scene as well. These days I am very thorough at flow-charting these scenes as I come to write them. As I mentioned previously, during the planning stage I will have assigned a rough number of paragraphs to each set-piece but now I draw a proper flow-chart, making sure that if it’s meant to unfold over 20 paragraphs that I get as close to that target as possible. There is always the possibility that during the flow-charting process I will realise I have grossly under-estimated or over-estimated the number of sections required to do the scene justice. Again, this might change during writing – I’ll see that an extra paragraph is needed to make a particular mechanic work, or I’ll realise that with a little re-writing I can lose a paragraph altogether, making the structure tighter – but on the whole what’s planned at this stage is what ends up in the book.

  If possible, I will write all the concurrent scenes together. So if one route takes you to a tavern before heading into the mountains and the other takes you through a forest first, I’ll write the tavern encounter and the forest encounter, and only once both are done will I move on to the mountains. This helps me keep a track of how far through the book I am and how many paragraphs I have remaining. On the whole...

  That said, if a book has to fit into a certain number of paragraphs (which doesn’t apply to every gamebook I write, most notably if it’s to be released as a digital app) I’ll leave a few minor scenes – such as a wrong route – to write right at the very end. I find it much easier to tailor such scenes to a particular length (especially if there aren’t many free sections left), than to have to bring the final, climatic battle with the Big Bad to an abrupt end just because I suddenly find myself on section 399 of 400.

  What other pearls of wisdom can I offer you about writing an adventure gamebook like Alice’s Nightmare in Wonderland? Well, as I’ve learnt to my cost in the past, you need to make the adventure fair and not worry about trying to out-fox the cheaters (if that’s not too many mammals for one analogy). Cheaters will cheat, no matter what. You need to write the adventure for the person who intends to play fairly which means you, as the writer, need to be fair to them. After all, as a writer and games designer you’re in the business of entertaining people, not getting their backs up! Of course I embraced some readers’ desire not to play the game with Alice’s Nightmare in Wonderland, giving them the get-out of not having to play fairly right from the start.

  Even though gamebooks, and more specifically their individual component sections, have a lower word count than most novels, if you can imbue characters encountered during the adventure with a bit of actual character it will go a long way to improving the story aspect of the gamebook. Speech is a good way of doing this quickly, and, when you think about it, you can describe someone effectively using only three adjectives – at least it’s enough to place a clear image of that character in somebody else’s head. Try to do the same for the world you’re building throughout your book, its landscapes, buildings, and more abstract cultural elements.

  But most important of all, keep things interesting. You have to ensure that the reader keeps turning the pages, so you need to go from one set-piece, to a growing element of intrigue, to a cool monster or fiendish trap, to another set-piece, and so on. You get the idea.

  Once I’ve finished the first draft I then give the adventure a thorough edit. I call it an edit, rather than a re-write, because it usually involves me taking words out, as opposed to re-writing whole sections or putting words in. When I’m happy with the text, it’s time to start re-structuring the book.

  One of the most noticeable and unusual things about a gamebook is that you don’t read it from cover to cover; instead you turn backwards and forwards through the book to the different numbered sections and progress the story that way. The muddling up of these paragraphs is not as random as you might think.

  Before I start writing a new gamebook, I print out a sheet with the all the numbers of the sections I’ll need to fill, from 1 to whatever. Once I get started, I write section 1 which leads to 2 and 3, and so on. I don’t write the book with the numbers muddled up to begin with, nor as numbered scenes with annotated bullet points.

  I do this for a number of reasons. First of all it helps give me an idea of how far through the story I am. Secondly, it means that I can easily return to previous sections to double check that the writing flows from one to the next. Thirdly, I can make sure illustrations are evenly spaced throughout the book, and not all bunched together. Fourth, I can ensure all the number clue references work – the ones you t
urn to when an item has a particular number associated with it, or if you’ve converted a clue word into numbers.

  I know that there are all sorts of pieces of gamebook-writing software available now, but the process I am describing is the one I first used twenty-three years ago, when the only computer I had available to me was an Amstrad word processor. It is a process I have honed over the years and it works for me. I also gives me a great sense of satisfaction and accomplishment to be able to print out that first draft of an adventure and start re-numbering it by hand.

  To muddle up the sections, I print out a second list of numbers – from 1 to whatever – and start to colour code them, circling those numbers that are the solutions to problems in one colour and using another colour to denote which ones will have illustrations connected to them (and yes, sometimes a section can have both). I then start randomly assigning new numbers to the paragraphs on a physical print out of the story, marking the old paragraph number in yet another colour next to the new printed number. This then becomes the master for the final layout.

  I say I start randomly assigning new numbers, but even this activity is no longer as random as it once was. For certain set-pieces, I try to keep the sections to be turned to relatively close together (without being so close as to give the game away with the reader not having to even turn the page) so that the physical action of reading the book is made as easy as possible for the reader. (It also helps with maintaining the old ‘five finger bookmark’.)

  Once I’ve tracked down all the missing sections and unused numbers, and matched them up, I re-format the text of the book, changing turn-tos as necessary and trying not to leave any section links unchanged, which is never an easy task.

  It is only then, once I’ve finished re-formatting, that I’ll send the gamebook to my editor and play-testers. Inevitably there will be a few re-writes, and some may even involve re-jigging the order of some sections (but hopefully not too many, as this can be a bit of a pain). Further down the line there may well be an illustration brief to write, flow-charts to create for editors to cross-reference whilst reading through the manuscript, and ultimately proof-reading to be done. But once I’ve sent the gamebook to be seen by another pair of eyes for the first time I feel that my job is as good as done.

  If the book is illustrated, after I’m done writing the adventure I get excited about it all over again when the illustrations start to be sent through. It’s great when the artist really captures the images I wanted him to portray but it’s ever better when what he produces is better than my initial imaginings.

  The Art of Alice’s Nightmare in Wonderland

  It is impossible to talk of the original 1865 edition of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland without making reference to Sir John Tenniel’s sublime illustrations. In Tenniel’s meticulous wood-carvings we are presented with Carroll’s personal vision of Wonderland; the author was a perfectionist and a hard taskmaster, placing great demands on his illustrator.

  Apparently, when Carroll later approached Tenniel about undertaking another project for him, Tenniel replied, “It is a curious fact that with ‘Looking-Glass’ the faculty of making drawings for book illustrations departed from me, and... I have done nothing in that direction since.”

  Equally, the text of Alice’s Nightmare in Wonderland is only one aspect of the book; another vital element is Kev Crossley’s incredible artwork. So how did it feel to be asked to illustrate Alice’s Nightmare in Wonderland?

  “It was a real honour to be asked!” says Crossley. “Since they were published 150 years ago, these classic stories have been illustrated by a long line of incredible artists, so it’s a privilege to get a chance to present my take on such iconic stories.”

  But how big an influence have Carroll’s book and Tenniel’s illustrations been on his work as an artist and illustrator over the years?

  “I don’t think it’s possible to be a comic or fantasy artist and not be inspired by Alice and her adventures, even if you don’t realise it. The crazy, nonsense creatures and grotesque characters sit beneath the tropes many of us work to, and I’m certainly no exception. Wonder, horror and the confused joy of reading those stories have been with me since I was a kid. It really does feel so natural to finally be drawing these tales myself!”

  So how did he actually go about creating the images for the book?

  “Well, obviously I did some research, but I have a lot of illustrations by favourite artists in my library, so I went straight to people like Arthur Rackham and Rodney Matthews to see again how they’d approached the subject. I didn’t look at Tenniel’s originals at all, the notable exception being his famous Cheshire Cat in the tree, which I’ve recreated in my own way. However, given the twist in the telling of the story, I felt it offered a blank slate for me to simply ‘go nuts’, which I think I did! I didn’t want to reference anything that had gone before too much, and I worked closely with the author to craft some really fun and, in places, incredibly elaborate images. That said, I hope the finished pieces will remain faithful in spirit to those fantastic early illustrations.”

  As well as being a dark reimagining of the original Alice story, Alice’s Nightmare in Wonderland features elements of a more modern steampunk aesthetic, but how easy was it for the artist to incorporate these influences into his illustrations?

  “It was no problem at all! The steampunk aesthetic isn’t actually too pervasive. Rather, it’s an extra flavour we use sparingly, I think. Obviously there are some images, such as the Tick Tock Men and the Grandfather Clock, where you can’t escape it, but I think the White Rabbit with his stomach-clock is more straightforward horror than steampunk. I’m not a steampunk artist in practice, so any such elements I incorporate tend to be tempered by the less fantastic, more naturalistic aspects of my art.”

  Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is well-known for having inspired a host of well-regarded and iconic artists to produce some very memorable, and individual, illustrations. How did it feel to be following in the footsteps of such luminaries as Sir John Tenniel, Arthur Rackham and Rodney Matthews?

  “It’s a huge honour, and a little intimidating too. I think Arthur Rackham is the artist I associate more with, so I looked to his work the most. However, I didn’t want to emulate anything that had come before too closely either, so although I was inspired by these artists, what you’ll see in my finished art might not seem that familiar in comparison.

  “Frankly, I’m not sure anyone could match people like Arthur Rackham. As artists, we aspire to live up to the standards set by those giants who came before, and it’s a task you can spend a lifetime trying to master. That’s a convoluted way of saying I wouldn’t presume my work is comparable to such luminous past masters as Tenniel and Rackham, but I hope it will be judged on its own, humble merits.”

  Obviously finding an artist whose style complements the tone of the text of a book is vital, and no mean feat. So how did the Alice’s Nightmare in Wonderland commission play to Kev’s strengths?

  “This gig was right in the middle of my comfort zone. This was the footstool I put my feet on when I kick back for the evening! Seriously though, I felt immediately at home with the concept, which isn’t to say it was as easy to do as that might suggest!

  “My particular love, and the thing I’m known for is the detail and ‘naturalism’ I try to craft into an image. This eats the hours though, and that is the main obstacle really; never enough hours in a day! There are a series of fillers in the book – small images you’d flick past without perhaps glancing at for more than a few moments – but some of those ‘fillers’ took hours upon hours to sketch, then ink. Imagine then, how long the Caterpillar Court would take to finish!

  “It isn’t often you get the opportunity to illustrate something so perfectly suited to your way of working, so it’s been a gift really. I could happily spend a full year turning all these ink drawings into paintings, if given the chance!”


  But despite the gamebook apparently being the perfect marriage of illustrator and subject matter, there must have been some images that were harder to get right than others.

  “The more complex the image, the longer it takes to nail, I find. That said, the Caterpillar Court one is complex, but was pretty straightforward in execution! The Final Battle was tricky to get right, as was The Grandfather Clock. Tellingly, the Tenniel homage – the Cheshire Cat in the tree – was quite difficult, as I was trying to remain faithful to the original, an image copied numerous times, without compromising my own vision. Challenging images are often the most satisfying to work on.

  “I love the Caterpillar Court, The White Rabbit, the Dodo in his bell jar, the crazy Automaton... These were the standouts for me.”

  Just as a book could always do with one more edit, given the time, is there anything that Crossley would have done differently with regards to his illustrations?

  “Oh the things I could do with more time! I could go in some fantastic directions! I’d love to do acrylic paintings of the Caterpillar Court and White Rabbit for a start! Perhaps some purely pencil drawn versions might be cool too, and watercolours. Basically, I’d like to do the whole lot again, but in a range of different styles and media!”