Logjam (Part II)

An Update

I’m very grateful to everyone who took the time to read and offer suggestions about the productivity block I discussed last week, both here and on Grognardia. It genuinely means a great deal to me. Even more than that, many of the comments were thoughtful and practical — not just encouragement, but real ideas I can wrestle with. I’ve been doing exactly that: thinking them over, weighing possibilities, and trying to discern a sensible way forward.

I haven’t reached any firm conclusions yet and I suspect I won’t for a little while. That’s fine; these things take time. Still, in the meantime, I’d like to clarify my situation a bit, because I think some readers may have misunderstood it or at least I may not have explained it clearly enough. Even if that’s not the case, restating it may help me see options I’ve overlooked.

Here’s where things stand.

I have a large number of projects in various stages of completion. Some are half-finished, some nearly done, but all of them meaningful to me. They’re not vague notions or scattered notes; they’re real works in progress that could, with additional effort, become publishable products.

The obstacle is that turning any of them into something I can actually release — and sell — requires skills I simply don’t possess. Art, layout, graphic design, production logistics, these are not my strengths. To bring these projects fully into the world, I would need collaborators and collaborators deserve to be paid.

I do not currently have the resources to compensate people in even modest ways. Certainly, compensation can take many forms, like revenue sharing, staggered compensation, or creative partnership, but all of them require a level of financial stability or administrative confidence that I don’t presently have. Even contemplating those arrangements creates a kind of background anxiety that, in turn, hampers my productivity. I find myself worrying about how I might finish my projects rather than simply finishing them.

Several people have suggested that what I need is a trusted partner, someone who complements my weaknesses and can help carry some of the load. That’s almost certainly true. The difficulty, again, is compensation. The last thing I want is to take advantage of anyone’s goodwill. I would much rather delay or even abandon a project than build it on unreciprocated generosity. That’s simply not how I want to operate.

Another possibility is finding a publisher, someone who would handle production, art, and business logistics while I focus on writing. In many ways, that’s the most attractive option to me. Writing is what I do well. I don’t have much desire to be a publisher or business owner and, in any event, I’m not convinced I’d be particularly good at either role. I would prefer to concentrate on the part of the work I know I can do competently and with enthusiasm.

But that path has its own complications. Chief among them is creative control. I don’t mean this in the sense of ego or inflexibility, but because these projects are deeply personal. They reflect years of thought, play, and imagination. I don’t believe I’d do my best work if I felt constrained by someone else’s vision or commercial priorities. At the same time, if someone else is assuming financial risk, it’s only reasonable that they would expect a meaningful say in the final product. It would be unrealistic — even unfair — for me to expect otherwise.

So, absent a windfall or a benevolent patron uninterested in profit, my options are necessarily practical rather than dramatic.

That’s why the most plausible path forward is also the least glamorous: start small. Finish something modest. Release it. Learn from the process. If it succeeds, even modestly, use that success to fund the next, slightly larger project. Build gradually. Establish momentum. Create a sustainable foundation from which something more ambitious, like Secrets of sha-Arthan or a Dwimmermount Designer’s Edition, might eventually emerge in the form I’d truly like to see.

It’s not an exciting solution. It lacks the romance of a grand relaunch or a sudden breakthrough. However, it’s workable. It respects my limitations without surrendering to them. Perhaps most importantly, it puts the focus back on finishing things. I’ll have some thoughts to share on that front soon. For now, I’m curious to hear what you might have to say about my proposed new approach.