The Mayborn Literary Nonfiction Conference

     Since Friday, I've been immersed in the world of nonfiction writing in Grapevine, Texas at the Mayborn Literary Nonfiction Conference. And this is a mighty good thing. It's not that I think that nonfiction is better than fiction (the same rules of good storytelling apply to both) it's just that I find it fascinating to be around hundreds of people who love to use what's already there to create a story. As one speaker said and I can't ethically quote her according to Roy Peter Clark's talk about truth (I didn't write it down or record it) but it said basically that it would be much easier to write fiction.  Honestly, I can't write fiction.  I've tried, but I think if we dig deep enough, we can find sparkly vampires or Hannibal Lecter in our own back yard or maybe even in our family tree.

     My attendance at the conference was made possible by the wonderful DFW Writer's Workshop in Euless.  Most of my fellow comrades at DFWW write fiction.  Being around them on a weekly basis and listening to their tales of ghosts and magic and dystopian worlds has made me a better writer.  I am eternally grateful for their feedback and their encouragement.

     Okay, enough mushiness, let's go back to the conference...So, I entered an essay into the Mayborn writing competition. The particular essay that I entered was on the verge of being banished to the bowels of my pc after several rejections and close calls at publication.  I thought I'd give it one last chance and enter it into the Mayborn.  If anything, it might get me selected to be a workshop participant.  And it was.

     The ten people in my workshop group were awesome.  They were generous and thoughtful with their critiques and they made me realize what was missing from this story.  Me.  Well, a bit of my history that I had never considered as necessary.  But now that they've pointed it out, I had a Eureka moment.  That's IT!!!  I had the secret ingredient of the secret ingredient soup.

     So, it was a great surprise on Saturday night that I was selected as one of the winners.  Okay, I was a "Runner Up."  I didn't receive one of the cash prizes, but my story will be published in next year's Ten Spurs. By next year, I plan to pay my own way to the conference.  I will either have a book deal in place or I will seriously pursue my dream of teaching writing in a correctional setting.  You may think that is a silly dream, but I've learned that the greatest thing we can do with these 80 odd years we think we've been given is to give other people hope.

     Hope.  I got a heaping helping of it this weekend.  Thanks to everyone who made it possible.  I will pay it forward.

     Peace out.

Death in Gaming

Wes Copeland is the father of two, husband of one. Gamer, writer, retired pro-wrestler. Resident of the UK.
You can check his stuff out at  www.VideoGamesInteractive.com & www.Newbsround.com


Death is a natural part of life. It's something that everyone, at some point, comes into contact with. Yet our understanding, and relationship with death is still very much a taboo subject. Myriads of people see death on a daily basis. It's in our lives, it's on our TVs, our cinemas. Even walking down the street is sure to end in a case of mass-insect-homicide.

Video games on the whole are given a bad reputation when it comes to how death is portrayed. The media is always looking to condemn gaming as an evil pastime that Satan himself created as a means to morally corrupt the youth of today.

Admittedly, death in video games is somewhat of a quagmire. Gaming, as a platform to tell a story, can generate some beautifully realistic relationships, resulting in some truly harrowing deaths that generate real emotion.




Whenever I think gaming and death, the image that comes to mind is of Dom and Maria. I know all of you are saying “Who?” so I'll elaborate.

Gears of War is the story of humanity's last stand and war against a horde of humanoid monsters known as The Locust. The Locust are of a greater number than the humans, and have caused pure devastation as they attempt to wipe out and enslave all life on the planet Sera.

During the first game we are introduced to two characters. The main character, and his sidekick Dominic Santiago. Dom has enlisted to fight the Locust and do anything humanly possibly to stop them. As the story unfolds, we learn that when the Locust first emerged from the ground to begin said war, Dom and his wife Maria, both lost their children to the attacks. The next revelation is that Dom's wife is missing, and he's enlisted in a desperate bid to find her.

You, the player, spend the first game (six hours long) and the majority of the second (another six hours) frantically searching for her, hoping that along your travels you'll find a lead that could shed some light on her whereabouts.

Towards the closing moments of Gears of War 2, Dom is finally reunited with his estranged wife Maria, but the happy reunion doesn't last and quickly turns bitter-sweet. He finds Maria trapped inside a pod-like cell among several other pods each containing another prisoners. The angelic beauty from his one remaining photo is gone, and in place is an emaciated shell. Her hair has been ripped out, she can't stand unassisted, and there's obvious signs of abuse.

Incapable of speech, what life Maria had has been all but extinguished. All she can do is stare pleadingly into Dom's eyes as he cradles her limp body.

After years of searching, Dom finally finds the only living family he has left. After years of searching, years of carrying the burden of his children's death, and years of wanting to hold his wife and tell her it'll be okay, Dominic Santiago makes the grievous decision to euthenise her. He kisses her on the forehead, tells her he's sorry, and that he loves her, then proceeds to pull the trigger.

In a world where gamers are desensitised to death, the story of Dom and Maria – and the fallout as a broken Dom tries to piece himself back together – stands tall.

If gaming were real, I'd be serving 145,935,845 life sentences for murder and manslaughter. When gamers play popular World War II games, we don't think about the cannon-fodder that attempts to stop us.

A random guy runs in front of me with a knife screaming “Die cur!” I shoot him, and within ten seconds I've moved onto my next kill without a thought for this man's children who no longer have a daddy, or wife who's now a single parent and going to have to go out and get a job to support her family during a time of war.

Gaming gets a ton of bad press for how death is portrayed. Yes, we are desensitised, but we're NOT devoid of emotion. Death may be forgettable, and meaningless when it's someone you don't know. But when it comes to someone we've taken the time to get to know and care for, death hurts.

Back in the real world, the faceless deaths of the unknown affect us less, whereas the deaths of people we've gotten to know and care for, hurts.

The similarities of the previous two paragraphs demonstrates that video games mirror real life deaths as closely as the medium can. Sure, I won't be waking up in the middle of the night and bolt up shouting Maria's name. I'm aware that video games will never be able to match the level raw emotion that death brings. But what I will say is that gaming treats death as realistically as it can. We understand what it's like to be a soldier, we understand loss, and if anything, video games can help people to empathise with others who are going through a situation that we cannot begin to fathom.

So next time your kid asks to play the latest game that's on the news because it's full of death, and you think it's a bad idea, perhaps think twice. Sometimes video games can help the player to gain a better understanding of death.
Sometimes, emotion without the loss has a positive influence.