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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(C) Copyright 2010-2017 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

How I got stuck writing an epic fantasy with dragons

And so it begins, not with a bang but with a whimper. 

Yes, I'm sneaking into the new year, the one we will call 2016. (To my credit, I have already written a check with 2016 correctly included.) And like other such openings, many of us are goaded into choosing a set of goals for the coming year, the ones we call "resolutions"--the ones we drop like hot yams by the second month.

Not me, of course: I shall press on to the end of the year, fully and impressively engaged!

For me, however, nothing can be so straightforward or simple: I resolve to meet the challenge put to me by 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 successfully 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've always kinda accepted that fact as an on-going source of irritation--not the sort of irritation which leads to a rabid scratching all over one's body until hardly any skin cells remain but as a nagging truth constantly drilling into one's brain, a truth one wishes were not quite so true.... 

In all honesty, 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) 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, 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 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 read has little to do with what I 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 and thus I endeavored to create my own. Along that line, I often found myself reading a science-fiction or fantasy book and think to myself: I could write something like this and maybe it would be better. "Better" meant closer to the story as I would tell it.

That was the start of what has become the start of this new year.

And so I have accepted the challenge, just to better fit in with my literary relations, to compose a so-called "Epic Fantasy" with dragons in it. Thus, I am led to consider what an epic fantasy truly is. Furthermore, I must also consider the nature of dragons. To begin this project, I have assigned it a working title:

EPIC FANTASY* 

(*with 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 the constant interference of 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 in action, and 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: 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 set upon that "invented" world. The difference here between science-fiction and fantasy, between which I must make distinction, is that I went full science nerd and made sure that I completely understood all of the astronomical, geological, and anthropological properties of this world, that is, of this 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, and so on; I would have laid out the story on a landscape as it suited the story regardless of scientific mumbo-jumbo.

I've also been told that "fantasy" must necessarily include examples of 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 none 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 the ordinary folks. I see 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 that it will actually be 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 relies; in one case, for example, it is a story about tiger hunting where the hunter and the cat can read each other's mind.) 

So there you have it! Not so challenging. 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 the problem, big or small, and ultimately win the day. Isn't it the same in every genre? Only the landscape and the problems change for the genre. I'm still going to gravitate toward the big, eternal questions of humanity and try to encapsulate them into small everyday disruptions of 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. 

I shall deal with dragons next time....



In the interim, allow me to thank everyone for the successful launch of my contemporary "memoir" novel ("inspired by a real life") A GIRL CALLED WOLF. After you have enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review on Amazon and Goodreads. Thank you very much and keep on reading! 


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(C) Copyright 2010-2016 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.

Is it Sci-Fi Romance or Romantic Sci-Fi? (I'll never tell.)

When I first awoke to life, I checked out books of science-fiction stories from the library: Ben Bova, Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, Andre Norton, Clifford Simak, Ray Bradbury, and Robert Silverberg's multi-author anthologies--and through them pursuing other stories by the authors in them. Mostly they involved space exploration, the problems of spacecraft in space or the dangers or delights of the surface of newly discovered worlds beyond Earth. (My first sci-fi story was called "Pseudospace"--basically a rip-off of the psychedelic ending of the film 2001: A Space Odyssey--two astronauts go insane because of their stressful experience in deep space.)

Nothing I read in those days dealt much with Earth or its future and certainly not much with the psychological and sociological impacts on the characters because of their line of work. (Some dealt with political issues by using a non-contemporary setting, I know; hence the point of the story was to illustrate a political conundrum, a what-if situation as warning not to go down that path, rather than a story, say, purely as entertainment.) There was seldom a romantic angle to the stories, and if even a hint of romance were to be detected by me, it was something innocent like the love of one scientist for the work of another scientist who happened to be of the opposite sex. I was, of course, an adolescent.


Then came the second awakening: Michael Moorcock, Roger Zelazny, Damon Knight, Robert Heinlein, Philip K. Dick, Frank Herbert, and more serious Robert Silverberg. These authors wrote more along the traditional line of what might be called fantasy rather than the more science-oriented sci-fi genre (in my opinion; don't get feisty now). They still evoked for me worlds of fascinating possibilities. I also liked sci-fi's ancient cousin: the Conan the Barbarian subgenre, as well as "sword and sorcery" books and films in general. Sure, they rescued the girl, but not really for love in most cases but simply to get a reward from her father, the king.

My own writing began as imitations of these authors. My protagonists were copies of Zelazny's Prince Corwin from Nine Princes in Amber and the rest of the Amber series, or with not much redressing Sam from Lord of Light. Little by little, I injected some of my own personality. (And still later, well into adulthood and hammered into submission in an MFA program, I allowed my protagonists to diverge from being mere clones of myself, acting as I would, speaking and thinking and moralizing as I would, to be their own independent entities.)

One thing that these later stories and novels had was more of what I might call here "romance," for lack of a better word. Romance is a problematic word because of its multiple uses. With a capital R it properly refers to those geographical areas of Europe (mostly) that were influenced by Roman civilization, including the language of Latin. Romance languages are those which emerged from Latin. In common parlance, if we speak of "romance" or something being "romantic" most of us will be meaning that it has aspects of or connections to something amorous, something of the heart, something related to relationships between people. A "romance" is a love affair, right?

Actually "romance" in the literary sense is a type of story in which a hero goes on a journey of some kind, seeking the ever unobtainable treasure (whether gold or wisdom)--sometimes intending to bring it back to impress his love-interest, sometimes keeping it for himself, for its own intrinsic worth. It's easy to see how this form lent itself to "modern" romance by the way the hero sacrifices himself for his lady, brings her something of value, and receives for it her love or other precious things [sexy details omitted]. Chivalry!

The Romance genre is one that celebrates stories about relationships. Boy meets girl, stuff happens, more stuff happens and, as the genre goes, they live happily ever after. (I've been told that if they do not live happily ever after, it cannot be Romance, as far as the genre is concerned; hence, I have coined the term, or am trying to, anti-romance: just like a romance but things do not work out in the end. In that sense of not working out, we have the Classic definition of a tragedy: the hero falls...or at least fails to get the treasure. In one of my favorite anti-romances, A Beautiful Chill, the girl grows throughout the novel and moves on to a better life, leaving the guy back where he started with not so much as a lesson learned.)


In my so-called MFA program, a university curriculum I entered with the idea of becoming a better writer (and, in a practical sense, to become "licensed" to teach creative writing), characterization trumped plot. In my reading of science-fiction and fantasy, the story line was most important, the characters secondary, just fleshy bits to carry along the action--and I wrote my stories that way: cardboard characters whose purpose was not to be interesting in themselves but to move the interesting sequence of action along. The one thing I did learn in this program was the significance of creating and developing interesting characters; that is, fully-fleshed out people with their own quirks and foibles, ambitions and fears, motivations based on psychological complexes and subject to the vagaries of their environment; in other words, a virtual person as real as you or me. A well-crafted character will often disagree with the author and sometimes refuse to go on with what the character might deem a silly plot turn.

Yes, I am coming full circle. There is method to my madness. I wrote stories that developed characters. I wrote novels of relationships. None of them had settings of other worlds or outer space or the far future. Then I did. Because I thought to myself one day, feet up, sipping a mint julep, pondering the meaning of fictional life: why can't there be serious relationships banging around inside a story of people traveling to another planet? or living in the future? or acting in a utopian or dystopian setting? I was intrigued by the relationship in 1984 as much as the political memes. What would it be like if I were Winston Smith and I met Julia? In Lord of Light, Sam has several affairs, an aspect of his persona which impacts what he does or what he tries to do. Especially in films, the recent John Carter ["Princess of Mars"] film being a handy example, producers must have a relationship in the story to attract viewers. If John Carter, Earthman, were saving an old king instead of a beautiful princess, I dare say the film wouldn't have been made.

Perhaps this is a simplistic explanation, but it is only a blog-length dissertation, after all. I do not intend to cover the whole of the history of the genre. Plenty of those out there already. However, I am about to argue for acceptance of good ol' relationship stories within the settings of good ol' sci-fi or fantasy stories--rather than the separation of the two. It's already occurred, some may rebut. And yet, it still seems to me that "science-fiction" and "fantasy" mean the story is about the strange, unusual, or exotic setting and all the wondrous things that happen as a result of the story being set there, more so than what the people there are doing with each other.

So...here it comes...the advertisement.... Not really, but it makes a convenient example with which to close this commentary:

In THE DREAM LAND trilogy, the relationship between high school sweethearts Sebastian and Gina, a couple of science geeks who discover an invisible doorway to another world, is always front and center. They cross paths often, keeping tabs on each other, discussing relationships each has with third parties, yet they still remain "soul mates" throughout their lives. Oh, did I mention much of these novels are set on another planet accessed through an interdimensional doorway located in an abandoned quarry on the east side of Kansas City, Missouri, USA? Probably not; but did I need to? The story is, after all, what happens to these two people--not so much how wonderful this other world is.

So is this trilogy a romance set in a strange locale or a sci-fi story with a central romance? Does it matter? I think it matters--but only for marketing purposes because, like it or not, readers will choose it based on this question: Is it a sci-fi tale or a romance story? Readers need clarity, it seems, godlove'em.

That is the "beauty" of The Dream Land trilogy: it works equally well as either, and yet genre-mashing makes it better! Thanks for reading to the end. I wish you a fabulous rest of the day and a better than average week ahead. Read something out of your usual genre this week; an author somewhere will thank you.

THE DREAM LAND TRILOGY:
I. Long Distance Voyager - available now as ebook; coming soon in paperback
II. Dreams of Future's Past - available now as ebook; will be in paperback 
III. Diaspora - completed; coming soon as ebook, later as paperback


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(C) Copyright 2010-2013 by Stephen M. Swartz. All Rights Reserved. No part of this blog, whether text or image, may be used without me giving you written permission, except for brief excerpts that are accompanied by a link to this entire blog. Violators shall be written into novels as characters who are killed off. Serious violators shall be identified and dealt with according to the laws of the United States of America.