How I was coaxed into writing an "epic fantasy" with dragons

It seems the year is twice as long as usual. Perhaps because I have spent so much of it engaged in one lofty goal: to write an epic fantasy which happens to involve dragons.

Like many of us, I was pushed and prodded into choosing a set of goals for the upcoming year, the ones we call often call "resolutions" - the ones we drop like hot yams by the second month. And here it is: the second month. In 2016, I was well underway with this new project. In 2017, I am approaching the launch date, so I shall recap how this amazing drama came to be.

For me, nothing can be so straightforward or simple: I resolved to meet the challenge put to me by my fellow authors: to write an "epic fantasy" (often called "high fantasy" or "heroic fantasy" or pejoratively "sword and sorcery")! And to further challenge me, they insist it must include dragons. Why this challenge? Why this stipulation? Pure cussedness, I suspect. (I have written a vampire novel which explained the desperate condition in medical terms, after all, thus metaphorically cutting the wind behind their blood-sucking sails. So it must be pay-back time.)

You see, it was recently discussed among those in my circle of authors that "they" have as their "signature genre" the Epic Fantasy. Yes, I have always kinda accepted that fact as an on-going source of irritation.

Honestly, I have nothing against the epic fantasy genre. In fact, I grew up reading the Amber Chronicles of Roger Zelazny (the first two volumes were life-changing for me as a teenager) and the novels of Michael Moorcock, beginning with The Eternal Champion (another life-altering read) and continuing through the Corum books. I began but did not finish the Elric series. I read several other sci-fi and fantasy authors, as well, but skipped Tolkien. That omission was purely because my mother said to me when I was about 12 that a story I had written was "like" The Hobbit. From then on, I staunchly refused to read Tolkien just so I'd be able to say I did not get my idea from his book! (I still have not read, nor seen the film version, of it.) I even dared to read the William Morris tome The Well at the World's End, dense enough for two paperback volumes! Because of these stories, I dabbled at writing my own fantastic tales and planned others, but I always eventually ran into serious roadblocks: What happens next?

Everyone has favorites: favorite authors, favorite genre, favorite story locations, favorite "book boyfriends" or "book girlfriends", favorite styles, favorite book lengths, favorite cover artists. I do, too. However, what I tend to read has little to do with what I tend to write. Beginning back in the mists of time, I wrote the stories I wanted to read. This situation likely developed because I could not find the kind of story I wanted to read, not consistently (besides, sometimes the plot turned in ways I didn't like). Thus I endeavored to create my own stories. Along that line, I often found myself reading a science-fiction or fantasy book and think to myself: Hey! I could write something like this! And maybe it would be better - "better" meant, of course, closer to the story as I would tell it.

And so I accepted their challenge: to compose a so-called "Epic Fantasy" and have dragons in it. Given the task, I was led to consider what an epic fantasy truly is. Furthermore, I knew I must also consider the nature of dragons. 

To the first order, we understand "epic" to come from the Greeks, the best examples being the Iliad and the Odyssey by the blind poet Homer. It was simply a poetic form: a dramatic tale told in 12 portions (or 24 chapters) which matched the hours of the day. To call it dramatic is a bit of a misnomer, for whence comes drama but in the actions and reactions of mortals? And in the constant interference by the gods! Nothing more, although that would seem to be enough. Whenever the gods get involved.... Today, however, "epic" means something grand in scale, vast in scope, mind-blowing in computer graphics, heroic action, featuring only the best of the best in all facets of production. Even a teenager's Friday night party could be described as "epic" while having none of those traits. 

In the genre called "epic fantasy" we have certain traits (see previous blog post): grand in scale, vast in scope, and so on, as expected. Furthermore, in modern iterations such as those of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, not to mention George R.R. Martin, the worlds which hold the setting are out of this world; that is, they exist separate from the world we know as Earth. As such, those new worlds abound in strange beings, eternal conflicts between good and evil, and histories we can only guess at. The chief feature, to my understanding, is the invention of a whole new world upon which to lay our story.

That is nothing new, of course. Science-fiction does that, as well. And I have written a science-fiction trilogy set on a highly-detailed world of my invention (At least, I say I invented it; it could be a case of imparted wisdom from an ancient alien civilization, who knows?). That invention began in childhood and expanded through my youth, then was set aside for more adult amusements. Finally, I crafted the books containing those stories that were set on that "invented" world. The difference between science-fiction and fantasy then is that I went full science nerd and made sure that I completely understood all of the astronomical, geological, and anthropological properties of that world; that is, of the planet I was inventing. If I had been writing fantasy, I need not have dealt with the mass of the planet or where it sits within its solar system, or how the geography affects the weather patterns, and so on. I would have laid out the story on a landscape as it suited the story, regardless of any scientific mumbo-jumbo.

I've also been told that "fantasy" must necessarily include the use of magic. To this aspect, I must confess I'm a bit of a *realist. Magic? I subscribe to the notion that magic is simply science which no one has yet explained. Even the Star Wars "Force" was described in scientific terms in Episode I - which I believe to be an altogether likely cause of the particular abilities the Jedi use. It appears as magic to ordinary folks. I saw no reason not to follow that model. So let there be magic! And let the folks in my story call it magic, but let us understand what it really is: certain kinds of science - unless...unless I find I've written myself into a corner. Then, and only then, shall I resort to "magic" in its most esoteric incarnation. 

(*I have written "magical realism" also, which is a genre of realistic and decidedly unmagic stories which nevertheless rely on one key magical element upon which the entire story must rely.) 

So there you have it!  Not so challenging, eh?  After all, most stories are the same: one of the dozen or so universal plots unfold and characters who bear uncanny resemblances to the author and/or his/her various relations seek to solve a problem, big or small, and ultimately win the day. Or not. Isn't it the same in every genre? Only the landscape and the problems change for the particular genre. I still gravitated toward the big, eternal questions of humanity and tried to encapsulate them into small everyday disruptions of the menial tasks of ordinary people. Let them be caught up in things they know nothing about. Let them find within themselves the strength, the courage, the wisdom to proceed in combating the trials facing them, even at the risk of sacrificing themselves, even for the sordid cause of a reader's entertainment.

But with dragons. 

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