Editor's note: Andrew and I started writing on Bitmob around the same time. His personal essay on games writing below encapsulates precisely what drove people like us to the site in the first place, and what drives more of you here every day. -Brett

You want to write about video games for a living. You want to play them as well. You're awake 18 hours a day, but truth be told, you should be getting more sleep. There are thousands of people who want the same you do, but you feel you possess a secret weapon: You have the basic rules of English down and they don't.

Yet you've been struggling to make it in the games writing business. There's not an editor out there who hasn't been inadvertently added to your Gmail contacts because of your unsolicited pitches and portfolios. What do you do?

Recently, four great voices have cried foul or righteous on the matter of making money for writing about video games. Pessimists Michael Walbridge and Aaron Simmer can be read here and here, while optimists Xav de Matos and Andrew Hayward can be found here and here.

So should you continue the hustle and keep plugging at it? Or give up completely?

I recommend you do neither. Let me explain.

Once, I wanted to be an employed video games writer -- for the exact same reasons you do. I used to listen to all the 1UP podcasts, whose hosts would discuss the matter endlessly. I remembered that Dan Hsu once said, "Just get out there and write, write as much as you can."

So I did, before I ever thought of compiling a writing-centric resume and portfolio. I simply wanted to develop my "craft."

The more I wrote, the more I read. And the more I read, the less I wrote. Did I really want to be part of games writing? While I had plenty of heroes, a lot of what I saw was absolutely assembly line stuff. Game, play, write (hit these aspects!). The podcasters continued their chatter that you should "write your articles to the house style of the outlet you are submitting to." But that didn't make any sense to me! The only thing I could figure out was that IGN had longer reviews for more clicks.

Around this time, I decided to stop updating my 1UP blog, despite the fact that I was constantly on the front page as a popular user. I began writing for a small and now-defunct Web site called phase1phaser. Its owner was just a guy who ran an ordinary site, but he accepted every strange pitch I threw at him: satirical news, fake-quasi-celebrity-executive diaries, broken English reviews, the whole nine yards. My work was borne of frustration by my 100 percent unanswered stack of pitches and applications.

I spent months running the site to little or no acclaim. Most of our hits came from people thinking our content was actual news. Once they figured out it wasn't, they called me a fag. But I felt that we were on to something there, so it didn't bother me in the least that we didn't get any hits at the end unless we spammed Digg. I had fun. And once phase1phaser died, I stopped writing about video games, content to have been able to strike my own path.

Then Bitmob launched. I posted an old phase1phaser article and got featured in my first spotlight.

This was a bit of a turning point for me. I could either see what this was all about and start writing about video games after a year of self-imposed silence, or I could let my favored hobby fall further and further by the wayside.

I set out a few rules for myself:

1. I was not going to write anything that I had ever seen on a major video game outlet.
2. I would stop once any bit of editorial effort tried to dissuade me from anything I did want to write.
3. I would use every post to challenge how I thought about video games.
4. I would use every post to discover something new about video games.

Since then, I have achieved more than I could have ever imagined. The number of people who have read my articles could populate a mid-sized city, I've conducted interviews with some pretty incredible people, and I've received humbling praise from some of my heroes -- people I grew up reading.

During my time posting at Bitmob, I have written poetry, limericks, scientific experiments, opinions, analyses, rock operas, comics, weird-ass video/text hybrids, dating advice, interviews, fictional interviews, SAT questions, and feature-esque articles. Dan and Demian have concocted the perfect formula for my new priorities in games writing. They have given free reign for my imagination and curiosity, and they reward me with an audience. One that I am very pleased to have, as modest as it is.

By no means do you need to take my advice. I haven't "made it." But I think I'm a lot happier about my writing than most people who do want to make it.

At the very least, people have tracked me down and asked me to write for them. I still hold to my Four Rules, and I have refused in some instances because of them. And where I have accepted, I first let them know my conditions for writing. I carved out my very small but unique niche by being true to myself.

This may restrict many possibilities in the future, but I do other things I love (which I get paid for). Should I ever convert to writing for pay, I can at least guarantee that my games writing will not resemble the assembly-line manufactured content found on some sites.

So this is how you do neither: write what you want to read. You don't have to give up, and you don't have to hustle. And you don't have to make it. You can contribute meaningfully to the incredible body of video game writing out there. You may surprise yourself and hit on something special. You may even stand out. That's what a site like Bitmob is for.

You have two of the greatest minds in video game editorial at your disposal, backed by a collection of world-class editors. I have done everything in my power to abuse, torture, and challenge the diligent staff of Bitmob. To my shock and dismay, they take it completely in stride. (It hasn't all been rosy. As congenial as they are, it is very embarrassing to have a list of 25 copy errors in your first two paragraphs -- and some of my favorite articles have remained in the Mobfeed.)

I can say with a fair amount of certainty that I have done much more not trying to make it than by trying to make it. By trying to make it, I played it safe and wrote like a million other gamers who want a job. By not trying to make it, I have been able to take many risks, for which I have been rewarded. That reward may be modest, but it is much more fulfilling than an unanswered Joystiq application.

Throughout my process of becoming a games writer, I have discovered a very important truth about the craft, once which I will share:

No one cares what you think, only what you tell them. The trick is telling them something they haven't heard before.