Another opener...
How to start a story?
"You're the guy who asked ask for the green, smoky tea," the cute waitress said.
I watched with mounting alarm as she poured out a witches brew, there was no other word for it. I gulped. What had I let myself in for?
She placed the finely decorated cup on the table, smiled at me and announced in a voice that chimed with dark humour, "You can have a refill on the house if you finish it." I looked up at her and she smiled as if party to some secret joke. I guessed she knew there'd be few takers.
After she'd sauntered off as if satisfied with her success, I gazed at the cup and watched the liquid swirl. I don't know how long my eyes focused on the green liquid in front of me but it didn't seem to want to settle. It was as if it was alive. A shiver ran down my spine. I didn't fancy my chances if I took even the merest sip of what looked all-too-much like liquid poison. Yet Malthone had said I should try it. Could I trust him? I was about to find out. He'd ask me what I thought of it when I went back to him. He'd see through any lies if I simply pretended. I knew that for a certainty. If I wanted his help--and I wanted it badly, badly enough to put my life on the line--I'd no choice.
With trembling hands, I lifted the cup to my lips.
The novel that will never be written...
Syaoran gazed up at the pillars of the Great Hall that reached up to the domed roof. The complex arrangements of windows allowed the sun to shine through and reflect off the sides to scatter across the vast space. Some rays fell on the ground as pools of light to brighten the demi dark of the hall. Others on the pillars so that their ornate bass reliefs were legible. Even though he’d seen the sight many times before, it always awed him to see the repeated pattern of Dhuze sigils between the pictograms of the empire’s history. It showed how the influence of the Dhuze had grown from its humble origins within the present capital to an empire that now most of the known world was now under its sway. Only a few outposts, the distant Thorn Islands and beyond the Great Wasteland, the trader cities of Calphram, remained independent. Only their remoteness had preserved them from being absorbed by the empire.
His footsteps sounded hollow in the vastness as he made his way to the Conclave. The call to meet had caught him at rest after a late night. Even so, he’d dressed and come as soon as the messenger had informed him. Assemblies were few and far between and so the sudden request had surprised him and piqued his interest.
Out of the gloom, he spotted Thalan. Or rather, he’d been spotted for the man made to intercept his path. Syaoran slowed to make the man wait for him. It would set the tone for their discussion.
Thalan smiled as if understanding the subtle message in his behaviour. While they spoke on occasion, it was unlike the man to seek him out. It intrigued him as to why he’d want to talk to a rival ahead of the Conclave.
Syaoran bowed slightly. “Thalan, I would have thought you had more pressing work than coming to this meeting.”
Thalan chuckled, “It is so rare we meet in Conclave I felt I might be present to see what the Circle wishes to impart to us.” Syaoran full well knew those of the Circle only communicated with Throns and Arcts such as he when they considered their visions of the future to be important enough for the empire to act.
He took Syaoran’s arm. “Let us go together.” It would have been impolite and created more enmity than already existed if he’d objected, so he let Tholan lead him on.
Out of curiosity, Syaoran asked, “Have you discerned the purpose of the meeting, then?”
“Why perceive this when I’ll know soon enough?” Thalan wagged a finger in his direction. “You’d be foolish to become a dreamer before your day by such behaviour.”
It was true. Syaoran had no intention of speeding his descent into the mindlessness that was the eventual fate of all dhurze. Despite the ever-present lure of wanting to know what was to happen, only the most important of reasons would get him to read the future paths. Even so, he was already feeling the way present and future paths were merging as what he saw in front of him meshed with what might be. “We all dream, Thalan.”
“Ah, of course, as an Arcts you consider it is our destiny to dream and to change the direction of this world as you see fit. It is arrogance, of course.”
Syaoran dismissed his comment with a gesture. “And I suppose you Throns would nothing in the face of fortune and just watch as the empire fractured.”
“You malign us. We are all for the empire and its success. But what you’re doing to the world is perilous.”
Syaoran put up a hand to stop him continuing. “No. It is what you won’t do that is dangerous.”
“And the rift that occurred this very day here in the square?”
The idea that the very fabric of reality might somehow come asunder was crazy. He’d witnessed the execution and apart from a roar from the crowd, the event had passed like all such others. The idea that reality might rift and reset which underpinned the Thron reluctance to manipulate events was the product of an over-active imagination and a misreading of what dreamers perceived. “Ah, the rift. I wondered how long before you brought it up.”
“You don’t deny it is somewhere there in the future.”
They’d had this argument before, only it had become more heated over time. Now Thalon was pushing the dangers of interfering with the future by acting on its future paths to move reality in the desired direction citing the risk of a rift as the reason. Thus, those like Thalon were advocating a period of abstinence from foretelling to allow reality to consolidate. Fortunately amongst the Conclave only a few leant towards this surrendering of dhurze power. But they were vocal and questioned every move by those, such as he, who saw the ability to foresee as their right to rule and better the world.
Syaoran couldn’t stop himself puncturing the man’s ego. “Some say they’ve sensed it. But they’ve been saying that for generations. My teacher said it was a weakness in the diviner.”
“Of course, blame the messenger.”
“You can believe what you wish, of course.”
“I will.”
Their conversation had brought them to the entrance to the Conclave. Other dhurze appeared out of the shadows. The call to meet had brought them from their various tasks. Undoubtedly, like he was, they were curious as to the reasons.
The Conclave meeting hall was round with tiered seats and a central open circle where speakers could address the assembly. Like the Great Hall, the walls had been decorated with brightly painted bass reliefs such that it appeared as if one stood in the middle of a frozen crowd of the empire’s greatest heroes.
He followed Thalan and found a place behind the first row which would be occupied by the Circle and beside other Arcts. By some tacit understanding each group would sit together. He noticed Thalan take a place near the leader of the Throns.
A gong announced the arrival of the Circle. Syaoran examined the seven of them as they entered. He’d not seen them in a long time, these Dhruze leaders. Two seemed bewildered by the assembly. Syaoran knew the signs; these two would soon join the dreamers. He smiled. It meant, they’d be some jostling to see who’d replace them. Worthy successors who’d used their talent to the point where they could read years ahead the future’s many paths.
The Circle took their places.
From close by him, Eland stood up and moved into the centre of the hall. While not the most senior Dhruze, he was in practice due to the way members of the Circle would drift in and out of the present; he was to all intents and purpose, the senior Conclave member present.
Eland turned a full circle examining those present. He then bowed to the Circle. “The Conclave is in session,” Eland said. And to the Conclave, he intoned, “I speak for the Circle.”
In echo, Syaoran and those present chanted back, “You speak for the Circle.”
Eland called out, “Let it be unbroken.”
“The Circle is complete.”
“Indeed, it is complete,” Eland replied.
The preliminaries over, he raised both hands. “We meet but seldom, so you’re wondering why we are assembled at this early hour. Only the direst contingency would call for that. And we face the biggest challenge we’ve ever faced.” Syaoran noted his words had captured everyone’s attention—including his own. How could there be an emergency?
“This very night, brother Alund was assassinated.”
If Eland’s words had been designed to create an uproar, they succeeded. All around Syaoran, people began shouting questions. Syaoran managed to restrain himself from adding to the clamour. Eland would explain soon enough. But the reason for the Conclave was now clear. The murder of one of their own. It was an impossibility. Dhurze read the future and feared nothing since they could avoid it. There was no possibility Alund could have missed such a threat. As those about him were bellowing, there had to be some mistake. But he knew Eland, the man didn’t make mistakes and inventing stories just to create a disturbance wasn’t like him.
“Silence. Silence. Let us hear what Eland has to say.” Somehow, Thalan had been able to cut through the uproar.
The noise subsided to a rumble and then silence.
Eland swept his hand at those facing him. “You see the import of this. But there is more. As you know, Alund took charge of the safety of the Citadel. Two nights ago, a thief was caught prowling these very halls. Alund interrogated him personally. The prisoner claimed simply to be a burglar. Given his willingness to confess, he wasn’t put to the torture. Alund scanned what the man said in futures when tortured, and these agreed with his story. Consequently, he was simply condemned and subsequently publicly executed this afternoon for his crime.”
Thalan got to his feet. “Are you saying this thief and Alund’s death are linked?”
“I do, brother Thalan,” Eland said. He waved the man down. “Please be seated. All will be revealed in a moment.” He checked to see no one else was going to interrupt. “We now know that Alund’s assassin is the thief’s associate. She followed him and stabbed him to death whilst he was eating his supper.”
“Have you caught her, then?”
Eland frowned at the speaker. “Don’t interrupt. I said I’d explain. Her actions were witnessed by other dinners. A young officer there even chased her. Unfortunately, she managed to evade him. Since then, we’ve been able to track her whereabouts to some extent. She escaped the capital and is heading in the direction of the Great Wasteland.”
Thalan was on his feet again. “That means it’s Calphram’s doing. What did they hope to achieve sending agents against us?”
“Our very question. Since the murder, many hours have gone into seeing what this portends.” Eland gestured at the two Circle members Syaoran had considered earlier. “Consequently, we have learned much. You’re right in thinking it’s Calphram’s handiwork. For as long as we’ve known about them, they’ve led us to believe they’re at the end of the world and that all beyond their far border is more wasteland. Given our preoccupations and their evident weakness, we readily swallowed their lies. But it’s all lies. Lies they’ve been spinning to us for generations. What we’ve discovered this very night is, there’s a country beyond Calphram! A country that threatens us, for it’s from there that our thief and assassin come.”
The Conclave burst into uproar again. Syaoran tried to ignore the noise as he digested the import of what Eland had just told them. Like all Dhurze he occasionally checked his futures for his own safety. Given what Eland had said, those benign paths he’d seen were possibly fraught with peril if agents from this other land were able to move through the empire without leaving any traces. For that, and that only, explained the ability of the intruder to secretly penetrate the Citadel and his companion to approach and kill Alund. Agents sent in secret to find out about the empire and attack the Dhruze.
To his surprise, Thalon got up, marched down and confronted Eland. Syaoran rushed down to support his leader. He heard the end of Thalon’s words to Eland. “…ignoring the rift will lead to more such surprises.”
“Know your place, Thalon,” Eland said. “The Circle decides, and they side with me.”
Thalon raised his voice. “You mean, you decide.” He gestured at the members of the Circle. “Look at them, they don’t know why we’re arguing.”
Eland fingered the Thron’s chest several times. “No, you listen. We are at war. A deadly enemy lies beyond the Great Wasteland. We must root out their agents in the empire and take the fight to them before more die like Alund. The Circle has decided.”
Syaoran echoed the closing words of a Conclave used by Eland. “The Circle has decided.”
Thalon sighed. “If that’s the decision then.” He pointed a finger at Eland and then Syaoran. “Remember the rift.”
Thalon turned away and strode off.
Syaoran felt a hand upon his arm. “I wish to speak to you in my chambers. Meet me there in half an hour.”
There was no question of disagreeing and returning to bed regardless of the late hour. “Of course,” Syaoran said. He didn’t ask for the reason; he’d learn it soon enough. Though from what he’d learned, it would involve this unrivalled threat to the empire. He had just enough time to break his fast before the meeting.
More flash fiction
I belong to a community called “Society of Fantasy Writers” and the following is something I wrote in response to the posting of a pciture.
Stormbringer hunched down and examined the fiord. As he'd previously briefly espied, it was as he'd feared. There were indeed four longships under oar heading for the settlement. Given their urgency and the way they moved, it had to be raiders. With a sense of dread at what it portended, he knew he'd not be able to run to the village before the ships arrived.
He spoke to his pet sea eagle perched on the rock beside him. "You must fly to the village and warn them of raiders." He then barked, "Go!"
The big bird took to the air and rode the wind that carried it towards the settlement and the unsuspecting villagers.
Even as the raptor became lost in the vastness of the land, Stormbringer worried his people wouldn't understand the bird's message.
With a heavy heart, he left his perch on the mountainside and started to run towards the village along the narrow and winding track. Even if he failed to alert his kinsfolk, he'd still be able to avenge whatever evil the raiders had perpetuated even if it cost him his life.
She Came from the Sea
Here is a very short story I wrote based on a picture put up on the writing community Society of Fantasy Writers.
Enjoy.
FROM THE BACK
From the back, her hair looked beautiful, just as he'd remembered it. When he'd met her swimming near the shore, she'd seemed the answer to his dreams. She too seemed deeply struck by him for she'd swam alongside him, teasing him about what she considered is maladroit swimming.
"I live on the shore," he'd told her.
"And I," her beautiful smile upon him, "live in the sea."
"I love you," I'd said. And meant it.
"As do I, you strange version of a merman," she'd answered.
"Come with me," I'd pleaded. "To the land where I live for I'll drown if I stay in the sea much longer."
"But there's a curse on the land. All creatures who dwell in the sea know that."
But he'd pleaded with her. And in her love for him, she'd relented.
They hadn't gone far inland and settled together beside the ornamental pool with its little pedestal and water lilies, their gaze back upon the silver sand and beyond, the rippling azure sea.
"I cannot linger long," she'd told him.
"Please," I'd pleaded. "A moment longer to gaze into your eyes. They are such a beautiful green."
"Of the sea," she'd explained.
I had an idea and went and fetched the glass orb with its tiny green spark to show her how her eyes sparkled in the sunlight.
"How beautiful," she'd said. "She held it up. "It's like the sea, isn't it?"
"Like your eyes," I avowed. Then I'd had an idea. "Wait here and I will find the looking glass so you can see how beautiful you are.”
I rushed into the house and grabbed the mirror and raced back.
I stopped when I saw her. Tears flooded down my cheeks. Her hair was as I remembered it. But now it was hard stone.
The unfinished novel
It is easy to start, they say.
I agree.
It is hard to finish, they say.
I agree.
What prevents you finishing, they ask.
The story doesn’t work. I got stuck in the middle.
Ah! The middle. That bit tha connects the beginning and the end.
Yes. You know about it.
Indeed. It is like a swamp; a quagmire to suck you in where your words sink and cease to be.
You’ve experienced it then?
Sure. Until you learn to build a bridge over the swamp, you won’t reach your destination.
How do I do that? There’s nothing but mud beneath the surface.
Well, yes. But you must try. Put down pillars to support the bridge.
Gosh. And how much will this cost?
About two thirds of your story, I guess. It varies a bit, though. Maybe you can be economical with the words you use to make your pillars. You know, edit well.
Two thirds! And it’s all just to provide a bridge between the beginning and the end.
That’s right. Just pick up a book and you’ll see how much of it is this bridge building. Without it, you won’t finish your novel.
The way you put it, I have to construct this bridge with my words.
That’s right. Just start tapping on the keyboard and soon you’ll find you’re over the swamp and heading for the end.
The Unwritten Novel #101
Some ideas you think are great don’t always lead to “that story”. I have this idea (I haven’t given up on it yet!) for a story that features harpies. Just to make sure the reader got it upfront, I provisionally titled it, “The Harpy’s Song” though it is a bit corny as a title.
It was going to be one of those crossover stories between fantasy and science fiction. The basic idea is that it is about a colony of harpies living on some weird world with two suns and fantastic fauna and flora. Hence, there would be sky whales, huge creatures that drift on the winds and use their tentacles to feed off what they drift over—including harpies, if they manage to catch them. Equally, the harpies also hunt these creatures.
My main character is the de facto ruler of the colony. It is made up of several tribes. His isn’t the biggest but through (backstory here) his cunning, he’s managed to take charge. The largest clan is resentful since until he took over, they bossed the smaller tribes. But what my MC has been able to do is to bring a degree of peace to the colony and hence it is thriving. So much so, it has set up a settlement.
The story as conceived sees my MC the subject of an assassination attempt when visiting the settlement and he flees only to be caught up in the very violent storm that is a feature of the wild environment.
Well I could go on. But this isn’t really about providing a synopsis. What I wanted to get across is that this story has a lot of potential. The reason it features harpies is that I was reading a critique of the fantasy genre where the author lamented the settings for most novels. Some version of Medieval Europe or Middle Earth. The author argued that fantasy was crying out for something different. Well, harpies are different. First off, they are flyers. Second, they look like gargoils. Yes, one could have pretty ones, I suppose; but then they wouldn’t be harpies, but something else. Sphynxes, perhaps? Also, as they’re not human, they should have both different behaviours and motivations. Tricky since if they are too alien, the reader won’t relate to them. My solution here is to give them non-human behaviours, such as a foul temper and so on, yet retain enough recognisable characteristics that they are relatable.
So, why hasn’t this novel been finished?
The short answer is the story. It just isn’t good enough. The MC gets attacked, flees, finds a lost tribe of harpies that evidence different behaviours to those the MC is used to. This is evident from his rescuer, a huntress. Together they set out to reclaim the MC’s position as leader.
I don’t think its that great a story, really. Hence, it languishes in my bottom drawer. In fact, I' think the prequel might be a better one. This is where the MC comes to lead the colony. But it still lacks something.
What to do? Great setting. A different environment with a lot of potential. Non-human characters. All these are most definitely positives. The weak link is the story. It either needs junking and with it the whole setting or major, major alteration.
So far, I haven’t made much progress with the latter; so it looks like this will languish unwritten for the moment at least.
The Black Company
Would you read a story about a group of mercenaries in a fantasy world? You bet you would. What could promise a more compelling story? And Glen Cook pulls it off nicely. I was kept engaged through the three books that make up the initial trilogy. And it is difficult to do when you have the same characters three times across what is perhaps a quarter of a million words.
So, what makes it work so well?
Alert. There may be plot spoilers ahead.
First off, it doesn’t feel like an epic story with multiple arcs. We have relatively few characters and these can be treated in depth. Then there is the actual story itself. It starts with a bang and a perfect reason for the Black Company to engage with a rather dubious character. This takes them to a new setting where the plot really gets going.
What is good for the reader is that whilst there is no dissembling, the events and decisions don’t seem to make all that much sense. One can try and fathom what is going on only for new events to change the direction of the plot. This seems so right from the story’s perspective since there is no POV from the antagonistic forces. Also, I liked the ambivalence in the characters’ reaction to certain individuals. This switches as the individuals reveal themselves through their interractions with the characters in a most realistic way.
The first book ends with a climatic battle and one is left wondering where it could go next. Needlessly, for the second installment isn’t a clone of the first book; far from it. It takes the story in new directions that make you question what the first book revealed. This is Brandon Sanderson territory and reveals the master story teller that Glen is in full.
As with the first part of the story, this middle piece has lots going on and the continuing confusion in my mind (other readers might be more canny in discerning the direction of the plot) as to where it is all going. It ends with a low point for the Black Company as their past existence is at an end. This both nicely closes the middle section of the trilogy and sets up the premise for the third, climactic, part of the story.
At the start of book three, we find the Black Company much reduced in circumsances. Also, characters who had a certain significance in the earlier parts now assume new prominence and importance in the story in ways the earlier part had nicely foreshadowed but whose import is only now becoming clear.
To complement this part, there is an interesting introduction of some quite weird (even in the context of the story) elements that at first, in my initial reaction, struck a discordant note compared to the previous setting of the story but whose important role later on needed to be articulated.
As with the earlier “confusion” as to what is going to happen, I considered the ending good in that regard. It is hard to avoid telegraphing the outcome as the various strands coalesce into the final climax. But Glen does a good job of keeping the reader guessing.
Now, no book is perfect. One enjoys it despite some flaws. And, inevitably, there are some here. One I think is that all the main characters survive until the climax. Given the Black Company’s business, is this likely? There are losses, and significant ones, but no named characters, as such. In defence, there is one who dies—the Captain—but he is hardly a main player here. His demise is to underline the way the Black Company has been virtually destroyed by the end of book two and the fact the Black Company is going in a new direction.
Nor does anyone quit the company other than Raven, who could be said to have not so much left it, as never really belonging.
Another quibble is that the magic is variable. Is it immensely strong, as sometimes seems to be the case, or is it of limited effect, as other events suggests? Of course, it “can” all be explained by who is yielding it. But even so, it adds a slightly jarring note to the story.
However, as said at the start, this is an engaging and very well plotted and written story that makes it deservedly a genre favourite. One can quibble as I do above (reading as a writer and not a reader, as it were) about aspects of the story. But I’d be proud to have authored such a great, well-structured, tour de force. It’s inspirational on so many levels for a writer to read.
The bottom drawer
Failure can often be salutory. And if reflected on, a way of learning and improving. One of the emails I get on a regular basis is from the speculative fiction writer J S Morin who writes about this scrapheaps. Taht is, failed projects. There are completed stories and those that ground to a shuddering halt. Reading the reasons Morin gives, one can understand the whys. Hearing of such story fails is informative and highlights the perils of story generation. Or thinking, as Morin does, that a cool idea that comes in the night is going to be that killer story. All too often the unformulated idea is deficient in one way.
In fact, I believe that writers need these fails in order to suceed. Elsewhere on my website, I have posted incomplete stories. In some cases, as with the Warhammer ones I wrote, I have a good idea of how they will end and could, if motivated enough, finish them. But they wouldn’t be published given Games Workshop publishing approach.
Other of my stories started out as bright stars and crashed due to structural faults or story concepts, as Morin highlights, that are unsuited to the idea or simply very underdeveloped and when fleshed out, fail the good story test.
Yet even when the story is a beast and after struggling with it and realising it is not worth finishing or as I have found, not having a good climax, one is loath to abandon one’s creation. I have several such stories in my bottom drawer that I promise myself, “One day I’ll finish them.”
But will I?
In one or two instances, yes. The third book in my steampunk novels, I will write. It is a factor of incentive not structure. Others, such as my reworking of the sleeping beauty story, no so likely. It started well, and I have put the beginning on this site. But later, it fell apart even though I had a reasonable ending. Is it worth saving? I don’t think so and perhaps one day I’ll work it up and add it to the collection here.
The bottom line is that the creative process is messy. One feels one uses up a lot of time and energy on deadends. I’ve tried planning the story. This doesn’t seem to help much. I am more of the sketch it out and fill it in as you go along type. The detailing evolves as I write and trying to run this ahead of the story doesn’t seem to work for me. It works fine for others and that just goes to show that we are all different. I bet there are authors out there who don’t waste a word. Or at least say they don’t. But I’m willing to bet they have their secret bottom drawers.
Writing about writing
As I started to write fiction, I initially read one “how to book” before I started writing. Then I discovered the enormous quantity of resources available on the net. I read a lot, and still do.
Now, here is my untested theory. Fiction writers would far more like to write about writing techniques than actually do any writing.
Is there any validity in this? I don’t know but I’m drawn to the lure of writing about technique rather than sit down and write the stories. Now, this may be down to a degree of “writer’s block” though I am writing, albeit less than I once was. Is this block as a result of all I have read about writing. Possibly. However, I think it is because I want to up-my-game and write even better stories. This is the challenge and I know it is slowing me up. Hopefully, it will lead to the result I want. Stories that rank ujp there amongst the classics. Is this vanity? I hope not. Nor am I being self-opinionated. I want to write engaging stories that are page turners so as to entertain my readers. If that is vanity, so be it.
My sword! My sword!
There is an interesting story about the LOTR movie and the making of the weapons used by the main characters. He explained why Aragon’s sword has a dagger in the scabbard. The reason is that the weapon’s maker pointed out that no real soldier would use their sword for mundane, about camp tasks. That is, the weapons are kept for combat use only.
An interesting observation, really. The professional military have weapons uniquely designed and used for the bloody business of war and killing. Not so amateurs or conscripted peasants and others. In past times, they would be lucky if they were given a sword or other weapon. And these would be of very poor quality. Most were expected to supply their own weapons. Militaries providing weapons is a comparatively modern development. One that followed the creation of citizen armies after the French Revolution. Consider the minutemen of the American War of Independence. They brought their own weapons to the fight. Given that many parts of the New Colonies were wild places, not to say the ever present threat of hostile Indians, carrying and being able to use a musket was mandatory.
But what of earlier times? Lords would force peasants and rude mechanics into their armies. This levee would be equipped with a variety of farming and other tools. Scythes are referred to. Quite a dangerous weapon on an unarmed or even armoured soldier if the armour was leather of linen. However, these farmers lacked the fighting skills of most professional or experienced soldiers. One wonders how they fared before they were killed. One supposes these untrained “soldiers” purpose was to wear out their opponents so as to exhaust them to make them easier to deal with by the more experienced soldiers who herded them forward.
The experience of Alexander the Great at Battle of Gaugamela is interesting. He led a very professional and battle-hardened if small force. The Persian lord Darius led a polyglot army from different parts of the empire. Given the size of the assembled army and the previous defeats Darius had suffered, despite its size and probably outnumbering Alexander’s Macedonians 2:1, it was a crushing defeat for the Persians, with probably 40 000 casualties as against 500 infantry and about 1000 cavalry on Alexander’s side.
Professionalism and equipment matters. One of the interesting little titbits George R.R. Martin includes in his SOIAF books is the amount of, and the nature of the practice professional soldiers went through. All part of his scene setting and designed to explain the different “performance” of the professionals as against the “levees” and others.
The takeaway here is, in writing about characters who are not trained professionals, one should not simply give them a sword and, “Hey, ho,” they are twirling it around like a trained fencer. Unless there is a good backstory to explain the individual’s proficiency with the weapon. It is unrealistic and will annoy readers at a minimum.
Perhaps this stricture applies less to archery if the individual is familiar with the weapon. To be a bowman requires years of practice. Now, non-military individuals may have a very good reason to be adept with bow and arrow as it is a favoured weapon for hunting. Hence, the son of a farmer might well be quite proficient with the bow. On the other hand, experinence and ability with the crossbow is much less likely. It is, relative to the bow, a complex weapon and likely the domain of nobles for hunting, given it requires less skill and practice than the bow.
Pikes, spears, and the like are stabbing weapons. What experience is needed in their use will vary on what is being asked of these long weapon users. The most difficult skill and the least likely levees will have is that they are best used en masse to provide a bristle of points that deter and demoralise an enemy and keep cavalry at bay.
Thrown weapons require experience. Some hunters might have the skill if the javelin (or equivalent) is their favoured way of killing game. If used, they tend to be for skirmishing purposes, as the Romans did, to disorganise and distract an attacker before the main force of infantry came into contact. An untrained peasant probably wouldn’t be a very effective skirmisher.
Slings make a good weapon. But it requires quite a lot of training and it puts them in the same category as bows. It is interesting that both Punic and Roman armies had mercenary units of Balaeric slingers rather than trained their own people for the weapon, despite its obvious effectiveness when used for massed fires.
A character’s ability or lack of it at arms will be part of their backstory and not an instant skill if presented with a weapon. Not until firearms can a relatively untrained individual simply pick up a weapon and use it effectively. Knowing this limitation will both make for a more realistic portrayal of the world in which the character lives and presents a real obstacle to achieiving their goals. Does the character live in pre-independence America? Then some proficiency with certain weapons is likely. Have they grown up on a farm? Or in a town? Why would they have skill at arms? Is there a village or town militia? An so on…
Enter Grimdark
There is a kind of fantasy out there called grimdark, gritty realism and base motives, mostly. Is this a better representation of a fantasy world than, say, LOTR or GOT? Well, yes—and no.
The yes part is that the characters are driven by base motives and their actions tend towards indifference if not outright cruelty.
The no is that people aren’t like that.
But isn’t that the real issue? In a fantasy setting we have the capability of creating a very different world. But there is a problem with that. Namely, readers won’t relate to such characters. And to my view, this is the great weakness of the grimdark genre to some extent. Lack of human redeeming charactersitics, however deeply suppressed, isn’t going to engage readers.
That is not to say, a gritty fantasy story isn’t going to engage. In this context I class the Broken Empire trilogy by Mark Lawrence that I greatly enjoyed. There were times when I wondered… But over the course of the trilogy, the grimness lessened and the ending fitted this humanising development. Actually, you can easily see in retrospect the arching of the MC towards their ultimate fate, if that is the right word.
Of course, any genre depends on good writing skills and the ability of the author to manipulate the various elements that go into a good story, whatever the setting. My own personal ethos in this is that character trumps all other aspects of a story, bad plotting and poorly conceived theme. But that is a personal preference and my “likes” in terms of stories are probably very different to those of other readers. But that is what allows a whole world of creative writers to thrive.
The sword and sorcery trilogy project
For pure escapism, the sword and sorcery genre takes a lot of beating. There is the heroic hunk, a character in the mold of Conan, Elric, or similar, who is all for getting stuck in with sword and axe and is, inevitably, on a quest. Far too in-there to want to stand off and use a bow. (I might have said noble except Conan is a barbarian and hence in people’s mind far from noble.) He—and it is most often so in the early stories, though there are notable exceptions in more recent stories, like Red Sonja, who is of similar ilk—is portrayed as all brawn. Personally, having been looking at the Conan stories and how Howard portrayed his hero, I find this is not a good portrait of the character. In truth, he is more of an outcast, alternative thinker, possibly forced to be thw way he is to survive. But the world Howard paints is one of savagery where might makes right and hence brawn is the ultiamte skill. Now, of course, you can’t kill off your main character, but for Conan to rise from mercenary and adventurer to ultimately rule a kingodm, he has to have some brain to match his brawn.
Now, what I find interesting and a little depressing about the genre (or maybe it’s because I’ve read too many badly crafted stories) is that the animal cunning and intellect that the heroic hunk demonstrates in the Conan tales, as do Elric and Red Sonja, if often ignored by other authors. There is far more to such characters than simply being the ultiamte warrior. Plus, it makes for a more interesting and nuanced story.
Now, I write all of the above as some time ago I started to write a trilogy based around a a Norseman in the Conan vein. Whether I wanted him to be or not, this character has ended up being multifaceted and whilst he is a very good fighter (he’s not an unstoppable killing machine and knows his limitations), he also has deeper qualities. For one, whilst it is understated, he regrets some of his past actions. Impulsive in his behaviour, it leds and will lead to him causing unnecessary harm to those around him. Equally, he has some empathy for others. With these traits, it makes him a more rounded character. And also more equivocable in terms of what he does. But to make him a suitable sword and sorcery main character he has to be driven to action. The driver behind this is his belief in the Norse gods, and in Odin in particular. Whilst Odin is indifferent to mortals’ fate, for my character to pass to Valhalla, he has to act as a warrior, even if he feels otherwise, and die a heroic death. Hence, somewhat conflicted.
The trilogy is set within a fictionalised Ancient Egyptian world where, ultimately, because, hey, it’s fantasy, there will be a war of the gods. And Odin, though no god of Egypt, will become involved too. Why not? Let’s mix it all up a bit.
What I also like about the above setting is that my character is faced with cultural challenges amongst other issues. While it is set in Egypt, I’ve also included Nubians, both initially as his crew and, later on, slaves who’d been forcibly brought from Nubia. In history, Nubia was to the south of Egypt and at times conquered by them. Hence, it is of a piece. Nevertheless, I’ve added many elements that are recognisably not historical, including playing with the geography and types of weapons and ships. So, essentially, even though there is a strong theme around Ancient Egypt, it is a bit of a mishmash.
A challenge since this is my first crafted trilogy as such, is to both have an overarching story and to have sub-stories for each of the books that reach a point where it concludes even though in books one and two, there will be loose ends that are then picked up in subsequent books. Even the ending to book three offers the potential for a sequel—but not set in Egypt.
Book one is drafted and somewhat revised; book two is largely written but still needs quite a bit of work. Book three is outlined and the main elements mapped out. It all seems to fit. Well, at least I think it does.
Money...Money...Money
Prior to modern states and the development of industry on a mass scale, as we experience today, most activities were artisanal, local and non-standardised. This applies to the minting of money. Standardised money (including, interestingly enough, paper money) only came with empires, such as was and is China.
What this means is that local kings and nobles would create their own currencies for use in their territories. The result is that if you went from one place to the next the money from where you came from would be viewed with suspicion if not downright hostility. The problem wouldn’t be acute between places that traded with each other since a degree of mutual acceptance was inevitable. There would be an exchange rate between the two. Two gloches for a minet, or whatever the local spcie was called.
A key function of authority, and we see this in the first states that evolved, was to try and standardise the currency in so far as possible to ease trade frictions and overcome the rejection issue of foreign pieces.
Another way, was to use a common unit of value. This would be precious metals. The usual way to do this was to divide the types of coin by value. Value here being dictated by whether they were base or precious metal. The key ingredient here was the weight of precious metal per coin. Hence, the exchange rate was based on the amount of gold in the respective coins. Equally, since the coins were made of gold, they could be accepted as equivalent to specie. It mean assaying the coins and wasn’t above fraudulent practice. Hence, any adventurer who wished to use their foreign coin might be subject to all sorts of issues and complications.
The above provides a possible plot point and even some opportunity for some humour and so on.
A final thought is that the need for standardisation meant that reputable kings and their mints would be readily accepted, whereas the ‘unknown’ coins would be shunned.
I think in fantasy stories, issues with money (having/not having and so on) are not really given much atterntion. Perhaps it is time to change that.
FOREVER WAR by Joe Haldeman
I read this book years ago shortly after it came out. It stunned me then and left an lasting impression. Recently, I came across a graphic novel version and me being me, re-read it. Again, the invention blew me away.
So, what’s great about this canon of the SciFi genre?
At the forefront are the themes. There are several interwoven ideas here that make up the unique nature of this novel. An initial impression will tell you this is a story about space travel and the relativity effect. This means that for the ship’s occupants and the novel’s protagonist, time passed on a mission is far less than time back on earth. This leads to so many great ideas. First is the fact that encounters are gambles since the enemy may have progressed beyond the technology of earth; or vice versa.
Another outcome of this relativity effect is that society back on earth changes whilst the attitude/behaviour of those on missions hasn’t. This leads to cultural disjuncture between those involved in the military and society back home. In fact, this becomes an important plot point of the novel and, as such, is woven seamlessly into the overall story.
A third dimension is the war itself, both the horrors and the effect on the combattants. This is the inner journey for the MC but also the change in culture from being in the military.
A key question is whether Haldeman aimed to make this story a parable of the effect of combat on members of the armed services. How the experience alienated (get that!) those involved from the civilian culture from which they come.
Regardless of all the details, IMHO, Forever War is a story telling tour de force where all the different elements are interwoven such that you couldn’t take anything out without damaging the whole. It comes as no surprise it won the Nebula Award for Best Novel in 1975, the year after its publication.
Quite some achievement.
P.S. It is said that the book reflects Joe’s experience in Vietnam. Is this a case of ‘writing what you know’, then?
THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA IN THEORY (but not in practice)
So, why isn’t the book finished?
Simple.
The idea of a magic heavy book, while a good one, still needs a decent plot and character evolution. On the plot front, the actual story—lifted it must be clear from Sleeping Beauty—failed to have all the necessary ingredients. Basically, the problem came from trying to adhere too closely to the basic fairy tale rather than simply using the idea as a point of departure. Consequently, it suffers from too many stale tropes. The stepmother, for instance, is a staple of fairy tales but is so worn out in fantasy that I should have known it would bomb. But how else was I going to shift the Aurora’s curse from one of the “witches” (well, I reamde them into magicians, but it didn’t change the premise too much) to another person who had a motive to want to harm the princess.
Enter the wicked stepmother. You can see how cringeworthy this all became as the writing progressed.
As if that was the only problem, I also came to realise that the characters mostly were cardboard cutouts and lacked proper motivation for what they did. Not all, but enough to make me look sceptically at my cast. Why wouldn’t Marlein confront the source of Aurora’s curse with the king rather than sneak around the castle doing what, exactly?
There are other problems here, too. But I won’t elucidate these.
Now, it’s not all bad. I think the opening isn’t bad and it works fine (pace the above) until we get past the first plot point. But after that?
I put in a few too many poorly constructed and thought out plot points and characters. It would have been throwing good effort after bad if I’d actually finished it. But I did write quite a bit before I came to my senses and that is perhaps why I stopped and took a look around and the book stopped. Dead.
There is a positive lesson here. I know many others have written about failed projects. They end up in the writer’s bottom drawer, so to speak. They are part of the learning process and the honing necessary to produce a decent story with interesting characters that isn’t simply a tired rehash of old cliches from other books.
In my defence, I think all authors have to fail a bit; perhaps most of the time even. Why? You have to try things to see if they work. To paraphrase Edison: “I have not failed, I have found ten thousand ways in which it won’t work.”
THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA (in theory)
The plan was (and perhaps I might revive it, as if!) to write a magic heavy story. So, I came up with the following outline idea based a little bit around sleeping beauty and the witches who bless or curse her. So, the story loosely borrows from the original but has its own take. But the key idea was to have magic being an integral part of the plot.
Story/Plot
Pressures: TIME IS RUNNING OUT FOR AURORA
Antagonistic forces: hunters after Derexam and anyone connected with him (Marlein or others?)
Complications: Injuries / getting about / Derexam losing his magic ability and needing to rely on Alboni and Mel
1
Aurora about 1 month from 16th birthday—realisation of curse (wards have been set up to prevent the curse) [Assumption, given what Marlein said on her kinder day is that he set the deadly curse as he was seen uttering a spell over her on the day. Challenged, he escaped after a fight involving magic.]
Derexam summoned to meet with king and is commissioned to go find and kill Marlein after spending many years failing to undo the curse set upon Aurora [This was desperation as her birthday and the curse became effective as Karlos, the king, had been reluctant to let Derexam leave the castle in case the curse manifested itself or Marlein appeared—but with time now short before Aurora’s 16th birthday, Karlos feels he has to act]; we are introduced to Alboni
Derexam meets with Ebener and Faraham
Says farewell to Aurelia
Attacked by assassins who have broken into his rooms in castle / survives with Alboni’s aid
2
Leaves castle on quest with Alboni and flitters, Kaia and Jareth (these small sentient flyers keep themselves hidden)
Spends night in inn – attacked by magic users and assassins
Escapes into woods with Alboni
Travels woods to river – spends 2nd night in wood – sets alarms and traps an intruder, Mel, who is magically contained and linked to Derexam. She is angry at her treatment as a slave having escaped such a fate that befell her mother and sisters.
Morning build raft—but attacked by mounted soldiers with tracker dogs searching for them – Derexam seriously wounded by arrow after running out of magic
Alboni & Mel (?) raft to nearby town outside of territory with injured Derexam
3
Derexam saved by healer but is still being pursued; Alboni & Mel take the wounded Derexam in a cart towards their destination – but are pursued
The hunters set of a magic bomb that releases a demon (name?). Derexam et al have no defence against this creature; it is the end
Kaia and Jareth try to fight it off but are sent sprawling by the beast.
Marlein appears within a farseeing orb and defeats the demon through magic.
They go to Derexam’s [and by later implication, Marlein’s] home
Alboni is sent on a mission to nearest town to find out what is happening about his pursuit and to get information on Marlein. He is captured by Ebener and imprisoned. He reveals where Derexam is hiding.
4
Break – scene re-opens in a country house [Derexam grew up in]
Derexam starts to teach Mel (very capable at magic) some spells when they are attacked by Troogs (trolls) and their pursuers
Kaia and Jareth?
Using an old invisibility cloak that he knows is there from his childhood [there is only one] Derexam escapes with Mel. Initially pursued by a troog, Mel is attacked by a soldier intent on raping her. Derexam stabs and kills the soldier. They escape into the woods using a magical pendant taken from the soldier that shields the wearer from sight to hide from their pursuers.
Realising that Alboni has been captured, Derexam decides to go to save him. Mel (still his captive) reluctantly goes along to help him.
Taught by Derexam, Mel magically douses for Alboni’s whereabouts. It takes them to the nearby town. They discover Alboni’s location; there and plan to rescue him that night.
The rescue is more complicated than expected and Derexam is confronted by Ebener and is nearly killed. Mel uses her magical ability to hold off Ebener.
After their escape Derexam’s whereabouts nearly revealed by a seeker spell by Ebener that starts to operate the moment he falls asleep.
They just make it back to the house.
5
They return to the now destroyed country house. Derexam doesn’t have any ideas as to how he’ll complete his mission when he and the others are taken prisoner by Audrey. She plans to lead them to Marlein.
They are attacked on the road by their pursuers – Audrey has vanished. Alboni and Derexam manage to fight them off.
They flee.
They come to a sheep pen & spend the night there.
Derexam observes Audrey talking to a magical viewer in the night.
Ebener turns up.
Derexam still hasn’t any magic. It looks grim for him. Nevertheless, Derexam decides to fight him—somehow. Uses the pendant that neutralises Ebener’s magic.
After being brutally attacked and almost killed, Audrey and Derexam set up an ambush so as to kill the mage. It involves Derexam deliberately exposing himself to Ebener’s magic. It works and Ebener is killed.
6
TIME IS RUNNING OUT FOR AURORA!
Next morning, Olaf’s band surprises the party. Audrey escapes.
There is a fight.
Derexam, Alboni and Mel and the shepherds who have given them hospitality are taken captive.
Olaf decides to rape Mel but is interrupted by Audrey’s attack. He is killed in the melee.
Audrey comes to the rescue
Some of the gang escape – Audrey purses them.
Mel has been injured in the (2nd) rape attempt. Alboni and shepherds tend her.
Then Alboni collapses – as he’s been badly injured in the fight. He is dying. Derexam has to teach Mel a restauration spell against time as Alboni visibly worsens.
All is lost when Marlein appears.
Derexam can only sit and watch his nemesis approach.
Far from wanting Derexam’s death, Marlein greets Derexam as a long lost younger brother he is. [REVEAL]
The nature of Marlein’s spell on Aurora is revealed: it is to protecther from her stepmother, Hilde’s, killer magic. Time is running out to save her as the protection spell must expire as she turns 16.
They plan as a group to rescue Aurora.
TIME IS RUNNING OUT—THEY DON’T HAVE AS MUCH TIME AS THEY THOUGHT
Marlein is confident he can get them into the castle.
They make use of Marlein’s secret entrance into the castle that he has used over the years to gain access so as to watch over Aurora.
Once inside, they are attacked by magically animated windmills that have been turned into huge wooden giants by one of Hilde’s spells. Fareham is involved in the fray.
With surprise lost, Marlein suggests the group splits up – Audrey and Alboni will work with him to confront Hilde (and her dark magic) whilst Derexam and Mel go to rescue Aurora.
Things don’t go to plan.
They are attacked by the ensorcelled windmills that have turned these into wooden giants.
Audrey leads Alboni off leaving Marlein to deal with the animated windmills that are being (seemingly) controlled by Faraham.
Not understanding what is happening, Karlos sides with Hilde and is (ultimately) killed by her when Audrey reveals herself as a double agent helping Hilde by attacking Alboni. [Hilde will inherit the kingdom and Terre Morte will triumph over Arandiad, which has been winning and taking territory from Terre Morte] [REVEAL/TWIST]
There is a magical confrontation between Hilde (in tower) and Marlein (wounded earlier by Karlos)
Having hidden Aurelia in the throne room (magically protected) due to the danger of trying to leave the castle in middle of magical fight, Mel and Derexam try to sneak up on Hilde in her tower, only for Mel to be struck down. Derexam just manages to escape and thinks Mel dead.
Derexam finds Marlein dying. Alboni is by his side. Marleinwhispers something (helps restore Derexam’s magic?)
Final confrontation in the throne room. Derexam faces off with Hilde. But not before seeing the dead Aurelia laid out on a platform at the foot of the throne.
There is a magical fight between the two as Alboni and Mel help.
“She is so beautiful.” Alboni kisses her. She wakes up.
END
Clothes
As I work through my latest book (THE KING’S SWORDS) set in 17th Century France (and a bit in England too, for good measure), I have been researching the issue of how to describe my characters’ clothes. Now, I don’t want to have a long paragraph of the kind that goes into exaustive details as to what he or she wore. My approach is more light touch, hinting at what the outfit is.
To be honest, I’m not sure which is better. Is, he wore a wide-brimbed hat on his head and was dressed in doublet, ruffled shirt, breeches and knee high boots sufficient?
Or do we need?
“His wide brimed black hat with a white feather tucked into the red band was of the latest fashion. That he was a noble, there was no doubt given the thick ruff around his collar and wrists, and the strings of pearls embroided on his ebony doublet. To complement the outfit of a perfect cavalier, his matching breeches and dark leather boots made him stand out. Any doubt he was of noble heritage was displaced by the long sword that hung from his belt.”
I’m not keen on long descriptions of the second kind. For starters, they slow up the action of the story. Second, do we need to know all this detail? Can’t the reader imagine the outfit given the sparse details of my first description given they have a pretty good idea of when the story is set?
Is there a middle road?
Perhaps. But for now, given the book is already full length, I’m sticking with the shorter, more abstract description as it fits in the story’s (fast) pacing.
But we shall see.
Injuries
I recently underwent a major operation. I wasn’t wounded and it was all planned. Still, it is over a month ago as of this post and I’m still not 100%. What it is telling me is that when a character suffers a serious if not life threatening injury, even if younger and fitter than I am, they’re not likely to be “up and running” anytime soon thereafter. This is particularly true of a major combat injury. My surgery was carefully planned to be minimally invasive. Although it was major and a long operation and, hence, being like being hit by a large bus, as a clinician said. Consider what a stab or slash wound would be like? They’re not careful surgery, quite the opposite. The amount of damage and the multiple areas it might have affected are potentially far worse than those I suffered.
A bit of a long premable, but the key to this is in the realism of a character’s abilities after suffering a major trauma. Not the Holywood overnight rest and the, bandage across the chest, as good as new and once more unto the fray. The harsh reality is that a major injury is going to leave the character disabled for quite some time. This then becomes a key plot and story point.
I have a discarded novel where my major character is shot with an arrow. This proves a real nightmare for those with him. He’s so severely injured that, without the attentions of a healer, he’ll die. It drives their actions from that point onward until they can get him seen to. And even after treatment, afterwards he’s weak and feeble and hence has to be cared for. He can barely walk, so they need a cart, which is fine but if pursued by riders will be quickly overtaken. So much that follows the MC’s wounding affects how the story develops.
Is what I wrote realistic? I like to think some is. Certainly the likelihood of death if not properly treated is realistic. That he can/has to travel afterwards? Perhaps or probably less so since the timeline between injury, treatment and being able to travel is severely truncated. But having the MC idle for a month didn’t really suit the plot I had in mind. Hence, compromises were needed.
Others have written good stuff on injuries to characters and their implications. We should forget the idea that our characters are super solid and can shrug off severe injuries and seek more realistic—and more problematic in terms of plot—consequences from these. But as always, we will need to make compromises if we want our story to have the right pace.
I have another character, Thagar, a Norseman, who also gets shot at the end of the first part of the story. He survives but, again, is weakened until he can recover. It’s a good way to complicate the plot.
Go with it!