Collaborative writing
projects are marked by collective authorship. Such
authorship can happen in different ways. I want to point out
three types:
- Several authors write
one (linear) story step by step.
- Several authors
contribute to different branches of a (multilinear)
story.
- Several authors deliver
independent contributions to an assemblage of
texts.
An example of the first is
the German piece
"Beim
Bäcker" (see
review
in dichtung-digital). Carola Heine started this project in
1996 when she wrote about a woman who encounters three
preschool girls in a bakery longing for lollipops but
missing a quarter. The woman is touched by these lovely
girls, gives them the quarter, suddenly wishes for a baby,
feels the need for a man and develops a sexual fantasy
towards a worker having coffee in the background. Instead of
talking to this man the woman buys herself a lollipop and
leaves the bakery. And so the author leaves the text,
leaving it to the next author to carry the story
forward (screenshots).
An
example of the second group is
"Die
Säulen von Llacaan".
This project -initiated by Roger Nelke in November 1997,
consisting of 160 contribution on July 19, 1999 - is set up
as a hypertext. The author can continue the text wherever
she wants and she can decide to which other part of the
hypertext her contribution shall be linked. Thus one can
rearrange a scene by a new suggestion or create new
connections between scenes and characters within the story.
It is based on an introduction about the people from
Llacaan, which sketches the magicians, scientists, warriors,
unitarians, strangers and simple people who live in Llacaan.
In addition, there is an introduction about the universe of
Llacaan which informs us about a conspiracy attempting to
abolish the division of Llacaan's society into three
pillars: science, magic and power. The introduction also
states that individuals from the past, present and future of
other universes enter Llacaan through one of its portals.
This set-up might remind one of MUDs or the "X-Files". An
idea of how to read this work is given by the following
slide, which illustrates one of the story's main storylines.
This type of writing project allows itself two sorts of
multiplicity: multiple authorship and multiple answers to
one question. One can imagine how coherent a work like this
would be.
An example of the assemblage
of independent texts is "23:40"
or: "11:40 pm" - initiated by Guido Grigat in October 1997
(see review
in dichtung-digital). This work's backbone is the 1,440
minutes of a day. Every minute is to be filled with a text
that should somehow apply to this minute, either describing
something that happened in this minute or describing
something remembered in just this minute. The text can only
be as long as what can be read within a minute, since after
60 seconds the current text automatically gives way to the
next. Every text has its minute and every minute has its
time.
This setup marries written
communication with the features of oral communication. If
spoken language frees our knowledge of an event from time
and place, written language frees us from having to be
present at the time and place this event is reported.
However, in 23:40 we are tied to a certain time again: the
reporter appears during his minute, if we are late we will
miss the story. A consequence of this setting is, for
instance, that a description of a sunset can only be read in
the evening or, for whatever reasons, only in the morning.
Another consequence is the
following: At 9:18 a.m. a person describes downloading and
reading her emails. This is one of the most common sorts of
texts in 23:40: just to describe what one happens to be
doing. The person then faces the message that her best
friend from school has died. The next minute consists only
of one sentence from the same writer, which translates: Real
life sucks. The point behind this rather slangy phrase is
that this is all we can read in minute 9:19. That means the
reader has to wait almost 60 seconds for the next text. And
this means the author has her readers observe a minute's
silence for her dead friend.
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