Do you know anyone who wants to write a novel? Do you know anyone who has actually done it?

I know many writers who are somewhere on the journey. It seems that the pull to write “the great American novel” is just a prevalent today as it was when the Civil War novelist John William De Forest coined the phrase.

For most people, writing a novel takes time—a lot of time. There are precious few writers who actually stick it out and finish their stories. There are even fewer who possess the right mix of talent and determination to actually see their novels published. In addition to this, most novelists won’t ever see their first novels published. They often hone their craft for years, producing multiple novel-length works, notebooks full of short stories, and numerous articles before one of their novels sees publication. This is the norm for the industry. Make no mistake: Writing a novel and seeing it published requires Force of Will.So, why would anyone do it? Why toil over a manuscript when publication is so uncertain? It’s not the money. Most novelists never are adequately recouped for the hours (read: years) they’ve invested.

Novelists do it because they are world creators—Nomad Mythmakers. They drink from the Font of Mythos and see stories in the everyday events of life.

I’m a world creator, too. Someday, I hope to publish a great novel. Most days, however, I have only a small amount of time to write. Family, friends, and the rest of life compete for my non-working, non-sleeping hours. And when I do finally carve out some time, that pesky card game we all love haunts the back rooms of my brain like a Spirit token with flying. (Haunting Misery, anyone?)

During a recent writing session (in which one part of my brain kept thinking about Magic), it occurred to me that Cube designers can have all the fun of novelists without all the hassle that comes with publication. Cube designers are world creators, too, after all. They are the J.R.R. Tolkiens of our game (or the Terry Pratchetts, if you prefer). The following article explains what I mean. Take a seat in the Story Circle, and let’s write a novel together . . .

Magic is more popular than it’s ever been in the history of the game, and one artist has taken that increased player base to expand his share of the market. That artist is John Avon.

John Avon is basically synonymous with our five mana-producing lands of Magic. He’s closing in on making three hundred unique Magic artworks, and his environments have become his hallmark. After starting in Mirage in 1996, he started with a bang and has had a few pieces per block, staying relevant since that time.

I keep in touch with Guy Coulson, John’s agent, who is an original Magic art collector as I am. We were discussing the business side of art the other day and decided an interview was in order about an artist’s business. I was more interested in how artists gained superiority in the market and what they do to stay atop the thousands of other artists. If you’ve noticed Theros, there is a ton of new artists. They aren’t necessarily young, but the huge impact of breaking intoMagic does wonders for a career in art. In order, though, to stay a professional artist, you need a business that can support you from day one until retirement.

Everyone has built a deck at some point in their Magic career. Maybe you just built something to win your local PTQ or maybe we need to travel all the way back to that Soldier deck you loved when you first started playing ten years ago. And almost in true snowflake fashion, everyone builds their deck a slightly different way. Even if you use the same methods as someone else, you have different preferences and ideas.

But, shouldn't there be a correct way to build a deck? The process has been around for 20 years now and in that time, we have coalesced over “Who's the Beatdown?” and playing 17 lands in our Limited decks, and yet deckbuilding remains a collection of individual habits, preferences, and practices.

But on the other hand, should there be a correct way? Creation is an art form—an extensive of self. Should that be regulated or mandated? There is a line, of course. We always frown on pet decks from stubborn builders. They could argue that they are simply standing behind their creation following the above reasoning, but as any reasonable person knows, everything in moderation. Creation is healthy, obsession is not.

But this Train of Thought does leave some questions.

The shop Linens 'n Things is one of my all-time favorite stores. I've actually never been inside one, and I don't even know what they sell besides linens presumably. But that's the beauty of the store. The "Things" part at the end could literally be anything. The only reason a probably boring linen store is even memorable at all to me is because their name offers a rare mystique. My curiosity is sufficiently piqued.

What if I need a new toolset to fix up my big-ass truck? There's certainly a non-trivial chance that I can go to Linens 'n Things and find a power-tool section. What if I get the toolset and realize that I don't actually own a big-ass truck? I can probably find one there. It's likely right next to the bread aisle, which is behind their premier selection of quality linens. At least that's how I would lay out the store.

...

It's also possible that they only sell linens and the "'n Things" part is just there to throw people like me off the trail. It's certainly possible. I can't rule it out. I can't rule anything out with a name like that. Just by the simple fact of adding a little ambiguity to their name they've created a lifetime worth of questions with no real answers. The world may never know just what you can buy at a Linens 'n Things.*

This article is written with the same premise. I'm promising that I'm going to talk about some decks. I might also talk about some things, but it's also possible that I won't. It could easily just be a boring old deck store. The only way to find out is to take a step in and find out for yourself.

When I asked what I should write about this week, the overwhelming response was “Legacy,” because of GP DC. I don't claim to be a Legacy “expert”—never have—but the true beauty of Legacy is that, regardless of what many people will tell you, it's not very different from any other form of Magic. In my experience, if you're a good Magic player, you don't need a lot more to win in Legacy—some knowledge of the format and the decks is of course necessary, but it's nothing that you can't get in a couple of games. Keep in mind I'm not saying Legacy is easy—it's definitely not. You have many important decisions at every point in the game, including which land you play on turn one, and making the wrong one could easily cost you. I'm just saying it's not a different skill than the one you should normally use for other formats.

My idea with this article is to help those people who play Magic but don't generally play Legacy. I'm not going to tell you which deck to play, and I'm also not going to talk about any deck in too much depth, but I'm going to try to cover the major archetypes, why I like or dislike them and what you should do if you want to beat them.

I'm not a monstrosity fan.

I am a fan of creating a monstrosity with a creature—adding Auras and Equipment, hexproofing or protectioning your little fellah from problematic colors until your cute little creature is a nasty, slavering monstrosity.