[Cross-posting this here, from my blog, Echoes and Chimes]

When I was a kid, I’d spend the hours after school on the circular trampoline we had assembled in our backyard. I’d go into a kind of trance. Though my body would be engaged in jumping up and down — or, when that grew dull, and when the blue plastic cover that obscured the springs wore thin and blew away, in walking around the trampoline’s perimeter in a game of balance — my mind flew far away. I constructed an elaborate fictional world in which to pass my afternoons.

Hopelessly derivative, it was inspired by whatever media I was consuming at the time - I recall the Ratchet and Clank series, and Avatar: The Last Airbender both being heavily influential. I envisioned a galaxy of planets, each with distinct people, cultures, and economic activities. The system was quasi-federal; the political relations complex. For example, I recall creating the planet “Laboris”, the lab planet, where new technology would be developed and tested, before being shipped to worlds the star-system over. There was a planet dedicated to retail and advertising - animated by the spirit of Moloch, I now realise. And so on. Populating these planets, in starring roles, were my friends, family members, and any other people in my life at the time, all reimagined in the art style of my mind’s eye.

As my real life changed, so did my fictional one. Alliances were forged and broken. Civilisations rose and fell. It was a serial drama, with some weeks covering mere days, and some days spanning decades. As serious challenges came up at school — a block of tests, for example — I would envision each obstacle taking a physical form, like an elaborate boss fight. Although the details escape me, I recall my Grade 7 exams mapping onto the mythology of 2007’s Heavenly Sword.

I found great joy in specificity — I’d try to imagine the content of the advertisements that ran on the intergalactic cable channels, the outfits worn by my fellow adventurers, that kind of thing. In pursuing these specifics, I’d frequently run into the limits of my own imaginative capacity. While I was strong on narrative (a consequence of all the books I’d swallowed), and while each character I created evoked strong vibes in my brain, I was quite unable to picture exactly what they looked like. It was like trying to pin fog to paper.

This confrontat...

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