Writer's Life - Issue 8

My final semester of college, I took a creative writing portfolio class. For my portfolio, I worked on a monster of a fantasy novel that has been the bane of my existence since December 24, 1997: Fledgling’s Prerogative. As a matter of fact, I’d also attempted a short story of this epic (key word: attempt) and had it work-shopped in my advanced fiction course. The downside of writing and work-shopping fantasy is the audience. If you present fantasy to people who don’t read or understand the genre, the feedback you receive may not be the most helpful.

Case in point, for both the short story and the first chapters presented of Fledging’s Prerogative, I got the advice that I should make the world more “exotic,” because fantasy worlds (ie, stories not written on Earth) are always exotic looking worlds.

I fully blame Hollywood for this. Movies like Avatar and The Neverending Story give audiences these preconceived notions of what fantasy should look like. Cinema can cheat with special effects to create these exotic worlds. But is it really necessary? Would movies like Stardust, Lord of the Rings, or Eragon have been less effective if they’d been set in more exotic settings? Stardust was a character driven novel with enough creativity that a strange looking world was unnecessary. LOTR…well, that’s the father of all fantasy epics.

The thing about fantasy is…it’s all made up! It’s a story that revolves around myth and magic. In other words, the writer can create it anyway that they deem fit… So long as, of course, it works. If an exotic landscape takes away from the story, then keep the world mundane looking. For example, my fantasy novel Hope’s Shadow is set in a world that looks a lot like ours because, although it’s set in a different world, I intended for it to parallel the European Inquisitions. If I’d gone around adding flying bison or strange hair tentacles that attach to trees and animals… Honestly, there was no reason for it. The world of Hope’s Shadow was “exotic” enough just by the addition of the fey creatures, such as the dryads and naiads.

The problem with being a fantasy author is that no one seems to really understand the genre, except for the fans. We’re seen as D&D playing nerds (I actually quite enjoy playing D&D, though I haven’t in years), our genre is mocked, and every time I mention that I’m a writer, the person is interested until I mention that I write fantasy. Then you can see them shut down, suddenly disinterested.

It doesn’t help any that zombies, vampires, and werewolves, creatures that, with some exceptions, really should remain in the horror genre where they belong, are currently overrunning the genre. (Although, to be fair, fantasy and horror do have a tendency to occasionally overlap. Same with horror and sci-fi. There’s a reason why the three genres are lumped together, sadly.) Traditional swords and sorcery fantasy struggles beneath the plethora of vampire authors and Tolkien copycats. It’s a daunting task to find really original, creative fantasy. Not that it’s not out there; it is. But the genre has become so popular for it’s vampires and werewolves (God damn you, Stephanie Myers! Yeah, you know what I’m talking about!) that it seems (not necessarily the truth, just the appearance of the truth) that publishers only want to publish what is popular, what sells… Which is more vampire/werewolf/zombie crap.

Thankfully, there are enough really good authors out there still producing quality fantasy (Patrick Rothfuss, Jim Butcher, George RR Martin, Laura Resnick, Anne Bishop…just to name a few) that the genre isn’t lost. In fact, Patrick Rothfuss has, deservingly so, become an almost overnight success, his first novel becoming a best seller, his second as well. I’d berate him for not writing faster, only… Have you seen how long The Wise Man’s Fear is? It’s HUMONGOUS!

The thing is, fantasy isn’t exactly the easiest of genres to write. Especially if you create your own world to write about. Sci-fi goes into this category as well. (In fact, I think sci-fi is harder. In any case, I can’t write it to save my life!) Tom Clancy once said, “The difference between reality and fiction is that fiction has to make sense.” For fantasy (and sci-fi), this is even more the case. Fantasy writers have to draw their audience into their world, and they can’t rely upon suspended belief (well, they can, but I wouldn’t recommend it) to do that for them. Want your magic to be believed? Give it rules. Want people to believe your dragons breathe fire? Show (no, don’t explain! That will bore the readers) them how. Want your cultures to seem plausible? Do your research and create rules. Want your peasant to become a hero? Stop kidding yourself, then do your research and figure out how that would even be remotely possible, then make it happen. Want your made-up language to be taken seriously? Take a note from Tolkien, study linguistics, and for the love of God, don’t just use an earth-based foreign language.

Fantasy doesn’t get the respect it deserves. Hell, writing doesn’t get the respect it deserves, but that’s for a different time. It’s not easy. And a quick fix to make it seem more real should not – I stress, SHOULD NOT- be to make the world look more exotic. If you want to make your world exotic, like Avatar, and if you can make it work, go for it. (Be prepared for a heap of extra work, though!) But know that what really makes a world different doesn’t rely on the setting. It’s the strange cultures, it’s the magic and how it works, it’s the creatures, it’s the characters and how they solve their problems, it’s the problems and villains that they face. It’s the story. And unless the focus of the story is the world (which, arguably, is the case for Avatar), remember that there are other details that require your attention than that your world doesn’t look earth-like (really? No, seriously. Back to the class I took. They all thought the world looked too much like Earth. Even though it’s set on floating islands… That, apparently, wasn’t enough.)

In conclusion, if you write fantasy or sci-fi, remember this. Don’t work shop with people who don’t understand/read that genre. And if you do, and they tell you that the world isn’t “exotic” enough… Hand them a copy of Twilight, cut your losses, and never listen to them again.

And on that note, I am going to go console myself in some good old-fashioned fantasy.

Writer's Life - Issue 7

The life of a writer

by Ryuno

An author delivers.

To some ridiculous extents, the sentence above is the truth. It’s like a magical clause we have to sign when we begin our journey through borderline-sleepless nights and ephemeral, vague and unproductive days: you pay your dues, no matter what.

That said, it would absolutely not surprise me to see a writer refusing to accept the divorce for reasons other than the rather overrated concept of romantic love but because of the vows he or she took when they actually believed in them, in himself or herself and the person he or she decided to marry. Everything is about the execution, obviously, but an author cares (or at the very least, should) about principles and concepts above anything else. Not words spoken or written, not shooting a gun, not choosing to stay in a sinking boat and dying with a smile: the reason behind those actions, cause rather than effect.

Quality which turns out to be a double edged sword, as we seek perfection in things others will only be able to speculate about before trying to turn the ideas we have into something remotely readable, hopefully somewhat remarkable. And as with every transcription of speech, every interpretation of an abstract concept that came from a person canalizing its thoughts into paper by using ink, every song with lyrics sung in Australian accent, one thing happens often: things get lost in translation.

Last month I read or heard a joke (not so sure right now) about the way Literature teachers were almost always bluntly wrong about the works they analyzed, to the point of having their theories debunked by crude, uncultured persons who, when faced with something they cannot comprehend, will simplify it by staring very hard at the largest bit they can. Sadly, that happens a lot in modern science. It did happen in the past, obviously, but it happens in a more painful way now because of something we did not possess back then and we have quite a good amount right now. I’ll grant you a tip, the word I am looking for is definitely not “knowledge”.

Arrogance. Academic elitism. Ivory towers, if you’re feeling biblical.

For instance, people who despise and mock religious people and, instead of analyzing facts and learning things in this amazing world of possibilities and free information, take Science for granted and act like it was religion, presuming it is immutable and infallible (when, obviously, if it’s unable to change as new discoveries appear, and God help those sweethearts when they do, it’s definitely not Science). They forget that, dozens, hundreds and thousands of years ago their forefathers assumed the very same: that their knowledge was almost flawless, that they knew Science, not only a small fragment of it with many wrong parts that would be discredited by men who would see the issues in a different light and later ridiculed by juvenile know-it-all students in our present time.

Let’s not delve too deep into Anti-intellectualism, now. This is supposed to be an uplifting message about promises and not my rant on people who wear MENSA certificates as badges, and those who think IQ is the same as wisdom.

The relation is rather simple: we, authors, compose a good part of this world’s share of pseudo-intellectuals. As our enormous guilt, so is our temptation stronger than the others’, considering we are supposed to only tell stories by default yet expected to blow minds, open again old wounds and mend broken hearts. Most of the times, someone else’s. This is a great burden as I am almost sure I have emphasized before.

But we do so with fantasy and delusions more real than reality. We make worlds crowded with people that are detailed with an intricate set of layers, then make them get together at some point when they are somewhat vulnerable and make the singular characteristics of each individual intersect to generate drama, or as some of us know it, plot. Our characters might be stoics or daydreamers, but the writing has to be passionate and well-crafted so that the reading can be immersive. And because of that, we have devised a defense against being so into our own craft of creating simulacra of life that could result in us being unable to know anything else, such as what the original life looks like.

This is the point where we draw the line between young “scientists” who don’t know the true colors of non-derivative works with experimentation and authors. We created a natural boundary that stops us from the snob attitude and even if only from a little portion of it, in a fairly efficient manner.

We make promises.

Sure, everyone makes promises. That doesn’t mean a thing in practice, right? As in the example on the beginning, the husband can ignore the vows. Your friend could forget to pick you up at the dentist when you’re going to be sedated, etcetera. Even you might not live up to the promises you made, but I don’t think you will. Not after reading this.

You should know by now that ideas come and go, vanishing in thin air like spontaneous combusting butterflies would. You think of your characters and setting day and night when you’re not writing, although you are not aware when it begins and when it ends: it just happens to you. It’s even less of a manual thing than breathing.

You are breathing manually now, anyway.

Back to the topic, I’ll have to break something to you: the reason why you keep enthusiastically telling people your ideas for the development and characters, writing books and books with notes and so on is not just to avoid forgetting those details. We underestimate the memory of our frail human bodies, these magnificent machines that can record thousands of songs instrument by instrument, several words and rules, innumerable smells and touches, images we love with our whole being and scenes we’d rather forget: you probably remember the essential content of more than fifty books by heart right now, so why couldn’t you remember a small detail on one that is more important than those to you, being yours and everything?

The writing down, the talking about, it was something else. Concepts can change constantly, but not in front of the public. This is seen as retconning, and it is bad. As in “hella bad”, bad as using the faux-word “hella” without irony. Even what seemed perfect yesterday will look somewhat flawed after a night of sleep. Even democracy does when you think too much about it, so don’t.

You’re making promises, to a friend, to a piece of paper, to yourself: this is set in stone and shall not change. This is a starting point to something bigger, and even if I work more on a part that happens in what would be the past of this promise, it certainly will lead to this. And if you don’t live up to make your book thing happen you were just a pretentious hack, a man who claims to be a non-believer while worshipping idols he carved himself, a big fat liar.

No, you will not take being called that from anyone, not even yourself. So you will push yourself through, turning little by little your half-lies into complete truths. It takes a long time, but you keep getting better at it as you go, and “doing things as you go” is a good skill to learn in this business: don’t fool yourself, no amount of planning will save your story from being on the most part glorified impromptu babble. Editing will, though.

And when you’re done with your set of promises (and although it looks like they never end, the possibility of you getting them done during your life actually exists) it is time to set the bar higher and make up a batch of new lies to live up to. Sounds counterproductive, but that is exactly how you will act. You go back, Jack, do it again. And do you know why?

Because an author delivers: that is our occupation, our target and our way of living. We would not have it any other way, as that is our biggest pride.

Writer's Life - Issue 6

I don’t have much to say for this month’s writer’s life. I’ve been a bad writer and have barely touched my work in progress in a couple of weeks now. Part of the problem may just be the situation that the characters have thrown themselves into, leaving me wondering how to write it. But, honestly, that’s really not much of an excuse. It’s a couple of characters escaping a dungeon, involving fire and sword fighting. Fire and swords are my bread and butter. Conflict is the jelly that I mix in to make an oh, so delicious morning toast.

Some might argue that perhaps I have writer’s block, or that my muse has left me. Honestly, my muse has me chained to my laptop, so I know that’s not it. And writer’s block only really happens to me when I’ve written something so far out of character that the only solution is to go back and rewrite the scene/chapter, and then I’m good. Writer’s block also occasionally hit while writing Matanzas, but that was more a matter of stress and my ever growing loathing of that particular project.

No, the problem is quite simply (and also not very simply) that I’ve let life get in the way. Usually my writing is there for me, and I use it to get through things. Lately, it’s not been so easy, and I’ve taken a break, although I continue to think about my novel, and I’ve been reading voraciously.

The truth of the matter is, while it is ideal to write every single day, sometimes, it’s just not possible. Sometimes, you just get burned out from life and stress and everything else that the smallest road block in writing can leave you closing your word processing program and setting your computer aside. Sometimes the stress is so overwhelming that all you can do is just take tiny steps back toward writing.

The point is, taking a break is okay on occasion, especially if you’re income doesn’t rely on you writing. Giving up, however, is not an option. It doesn’t matter how grueling or stressful or difficult writing can be, especially when so much else is going on in your life. Remember that you write because it’s what you love. You chose to write. Or perhaps writing chose you. In the end, it doesn’t really matter. It’s a love, it’s a desire, it’s an addiction. Love it, and know that, when you’re ready to come back to it, it will be sitting there, waiting for you, like a loyal puppy waiting by the door for his master to return from work.

Even now, sitting down to write this, I’m beginning to feel better. Funny, though, how not having much to say can amount to so many words.

Writer's Life - Issue 5

Finding time to write…

This is something that divides the true writer from the ones who claim merely to aspire to one day be a writer. Allow me a geek moment to quote Yoda… “Do or do not. There is no try.” This is certainly true of writing. If you’re going to write, then sit down and write. Don’t cry about not having the time, make the time to write.

Writing is a passion, an addiction, the sweetest of drugs. For a writer, writing is not just something you do to pass the time. It’s something you do because you must, because it’s in your blood, because you can’t imagine a moment when you’re not writing. And writing doesn’t necessarily mean that every moment is spent pouring sweat while typing away madly at your laptop. It’s also researching and experiencing. It’s thinking up story lines while driving 80 mph down the highway (not condoning this, but it happens, hehe). Sometimes, writing is even reading, seeing how other authors do what they do, seeing what works and what doesn’t work.

But mostly writing is about writing. The problem is finding the time to write, especially when life gets in the way. Waiting for your Muse or inspiration to strike is not an option. (Personally, I like to avoid waiting for my Muse to strike, as she often does so with a steel mallet the size of Texas, and often when it’s most inconvenient to write, like when I’m at work.)

I’ve heard many writers who tout that a daily schedule works best for them. Set a specific time aside each day to focus solely on writing. This method certainly has its advantages. Structure and order can be very helpful to productivity.

I, however, don’t have a typical day job. I’m a studio photographer when I’m not writing, so my work hours are very…chaotic. Especially during the holidays. Thus finding one particular time to write every day isn’t always possible. Nor though is it impossible. It’s not always easy for me to write every single day. But I do try to open whatever project I’m working on each day, whether it’s late at night or throughout the day on a rare day that I’m off work. Sometimes I’m at my desk, sometimes I take my laptop to a café, sometimes I take the laptop to the bedroom with me or curl up on the couch with it. Sometimes I don’t even write on the laptop with all its distractions. I have several notebooks with random scenes from various novels because sometimes I find it easier (and less distracting) to write longhand first. And when it’s not so hectic at work, I have been known to take my laptop, or a notebook, and spend those precious moments of my lunch break writing away while nibbling on a sandwich. The chaos makes for slow writing at times, but what’s more important is that I’m writing. I’m not setting it aside, wishing I had more time to write. (I do wish I had more time to write, but that’s beside the point.) In fact, sometimes I get more done when I have little time to write, like on my lunch breaks. Or right now, as I’m typing this article out before a 12 hour shift at work.

The point is, if you want to write, then do it! There is no one right way to make time to write. Everyone has their own methods. Don’t let life interfere. Make your life work around your writing schedule. Find the time to write, even if it’s just for fifteen minutes a day. Those fifteen minutes are still better than spending no time at all writing. And if you can’t think of anything to write, then just write nonsense. Sometimes, you’ll find a story there that you didn’t even know you had. Or sometimes, you just find nonsense, toss it aside, and try something different the next time. Just write.

Writer's Life - Issue 4

The life of a writer

by Ryuno

“Give me your heart, make it real or else forget about it. -” Rob Thomas

It gets worse.

You finished your book and the few ones who read it seemed pleased enough, as people always do when you give them something they even remotely for free. It took you a whole year to get it the way you wanted and then a few weeks for the editor to get it decent and readable but only a few hours for the readers to absorb it completely. How unfair.

Still, they bothered to read the whole damn thing, which is fairly more than you could say about certain publishers who did not care enough to ask for a partial because they were too busy delaying your favorite series and doing a worse job at translating/localizing than people on the internet. They know your characters by name, they see through them enough to tell they are not entirely honest to one another and speculate. The pride you feel when they try and predict your next move story-wise is too beautiful for a sin, being almost paternal. I can state that because I was pretty much the father figure for my brother and thus am familiar to that sensation, although saving the whole story for another day is something I plan to do unless my word count here is too low and I find myself completely devoid of ideas. Or not willing to talk about the Scott Pilgrim movie.

But then the heat is gone, your story becomes old news and you start wondering if you really should keep working on the sequel instead of writing something else publishers can reject driving your family to complete dismay as the life of the child they had such high hopes and dreams for seems to be going downhill and it never was very good to begin with but it had potential and such.

You are brought back to where you started, except now you are a completely different person.

Before you didn’t know that a few words change book and a book changes a kid and that kid will change the world whether you like it or not because of Butterfly Effect but it can change it in a way much more positive (to you and your wicked ideals) if said kid gets to read your book because, well, if you don’t understand the mechanisms by now it might be a good idea to read this paragraph again and again.

Now you know you’re here forever.

Charles Bukowski had it right, the bloody alcoholic yet brilliant fellow; either you go for it even if it means fighting the world or you quit before you start wasting your precious time on what will remain a dream. The man was one of us, and by that I actually mean he was pretty much as gauche as I am. No, really.

His life sucked too.

The man was not merely a wreck, but the whole package: he believed to be an illegitimate child (although he was possibly just an “unplanned” one), had an abusive parent and was picked on by other children, was shy and had bad skin, drank since his early teens, got momentarily arrested in the same year he managed to publish his first short story on a fairly good magazine and after that only got to publish something again two years later on a mere limited-run collection. He got these really awful jobs (and once you find your vocation, my pretty, every other job is unfitting) and didn’t write for ten years. He went back to writing after being treated for bleeding ulcer. Then he married a Texan girl who was a poet and then they divorced, but definitely not just because she kept saying his poems sucked. He kept on writing, drinking and went back to the post office, although on a different and fairly better occupation where he worked for over a decade and almost led to his insanity. Many unfortunate romantic affairs later, he died of leukemia.

What I just did was accentuating the negative, but it doesn’t make it any less true: that was the life of the man one could easily consider the greatest American poet. We’d better keep remembering him for his contributions to literature because his legacy makes him more dimensional than a mere tragic hero. All the suffering you find in his work, all the realistic and non-juvenile angst in every sentence, the way the romantic feelings hit too close to home for comfort: those things felt real and brutal because they were and there’s no denying it. That is what happens when someone with an extreme life takes the “write what you know” seriously, and I dare say it is the only way to achieve such results without sounding too coldly calculated and mechanical: to let art imitate life, and to have witnessed things worth imitating.

Yes, it is a terrifying thought: not only be able to cope with sadness and, but to appreciate them and find ways of inserting them in your works. But this is the only way we can get even and actually heal, saving others and making them grow as persons, doing so out of nothing but our selfish desire to fictionalize our scars so the ghosts won’t come back anymore.

You’re here forever, and to deliver what they don’t know they want but they surely need is to give all of you, every you in a way you’d never want to comprehend. To share the burden with strangers and make them witnesses of the person you didn’t want to be: full of traumas and prejudices, a walking turmoil. And that, my darling, is why they will love you unconditionally and be very, very mad when your son come and try inserting new establishments in your novel series with much less grace than you did or compare the delusions and works of others with yours.

From now on you know that if your life sucks and you’re not keeping it to yourself, you’re doing something right.