G’narsh

The Troll, The Myth, The Legend

by

Kevin Stillwater

chapter 1
# # # Prelude # # #
page 2

    So, as said, you are at the store. You have plugged in. And presently, you are trying out a new disc, this disc: G’narsh: The Troll, The Myth, The Legend. Look around. Look down the aisles. There are hundreds of thousands of discs here. You will never (ever) read the back copy on most of the discs in this store, let alone load them up for a test spin. These are important economic facts that a would be artist needs to keep in mind. Unless you have a name, consumers are not waiting for your fantasy to hit the market. Even fans of your genre will likely not notice your disc’s brief stint on the store shelves before your hard work lands in the dustbin of obscurity.

    What is critical in all of this is that you have mere seconds to capture your audience’s attention before they pass your disc by; and most of the factors controlling this momentary interaction are beyond your control -- cover art, product placement, and critical review to name just a few. Get that coveted end-aisle position and you will get your moment in the sun. The customer will pick up your disc, look over the art, read the blurb on the back, and if you are lucky -- really, really, really lucky -- they will spend a moment plugging into your disc to see what’s inside.

    That’s why the opening segment is so important. It is but a fleeting moment, but it is likely all the time you will ever get. It is during these brief seconds that your audience looks over your work, checks out the bait, and decides whether to purchase or to move on. And the question on everyone’s mind at this juncture is: Can you set the hook?

    So a lot of thought goes into the opening sequence. It’s why mysteries start with dead bodies, westerns start with gunfights, adventures start with chase scenes, fantasies start with detailed descriptions of fanciful characters, and science fiction stories start with an epic overview of the setting. Granted, these rules aren’t carved in stone, but the idea lurking behind them remains accurate. Once someone has loaded up your disc, your primary goal should be to give them ample reason to continue playing your dream. This holds true both in the market place and in the halls of competition. You don’t actually think that a judge has time to play every disc that they get in an open-invitation (unlimited) tournament all the way thru from the beginning to end? Trust me. They don’t. Those judges are even more cynical than the most jaded of fans.