Fantasy: What is your love story?

“Round about what is lies a whole mysterious world of what might be.”

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

As a child, I watched fairies flitter among the flowers. I heard ghosts whisper between my ears. I felt clawed witch-fingers slither up my spine whenever I walked by certain houses. If I held my breath and flapped my arms really, really hard, I could fly. My toys came alive when I was out of the room; I tried to catch them but never could. I had conversations with squirrels and neighborhood dogs. My childhood world was full of magic and adventure as real to me as dragonflies and my own thoughts, cranky old ladies and dreams.

That mysterious world of what might be got misplaced sometime between childhood and adolescence. As I grew and learned to see with adult eyes, the magic faded. The titles of my stories went from The Fire-breathing Dragon, to Luck is Only for Winners. From magic to mundane, all in a few years of growing up.

No wonder Peter Pan fought it.

In the summer of 1979, I was fifteen years old and spent many a-lazy hour reading, sprawled on a thick limb of a tree in my yard. I found my lust for Harlequin Romances waning. I was too old for childhood favorites like Pippi and Ramona and Harriet. A couple years earlier, Star Wars started me itching for something…something I almost remembered…

I went to the library where, within the seemingly infinite possibilities, nothing looked interesting. I remember absently thumbing through the books on the nickel shelf. Tattered, one and all. I spotted a blue cover. No dust jacket. Bent pages, frayed corners, broken spine. Gold letters etched into it.

The Once and Future King.

The title scratched my itch; the story blew my teenage mind. All that magic left in childhood came rushing back as Wart and Sir Kaye. A sword. A stone. Merlin and Nimue. Guinevere and Arthur and Lancelot. Did I get all the metaphor? All the symbolism? Hell, no! But I found the way back to the magic, the mystery, the possibilities you need the space behind your eyes to see.

I found Bilbo and Gandalf. Frodo and Sam. Lady Amalthea and Schmendrick; Thomas Covenant and Lord Foul; Garion and Belgarath and Polgara; Ged and Earthsea; Xanth and Dragonlance. I razed these worlds of words, went back for more and more, right up to this very day, more.

We are all born with that sense of wonder, the knowledge that there truly is a whole mysterious world, indeed, many mysterious worlds of what might be. Some keep the knowledge all their lives. Some lose it and never find it again. Some, like me, only misplace it, and are lucky enough find it again.

And then, there are those few of us who take the next step; we create our own mysterious worlds of what might be. We send them out into the world to ignite that sense of wonder and whimsy in others. It's our own sort of omnipotence, creating worlds. A form of immortality. And it’s love, pure love. For me, that is why fantasy.

What is your love story?

What? Is it my turn?

Oh, yes, gentle readers, it is my turn to post on Heroines of Fantasy, and I--engrossed in editing two novels due out from Hadley Rille Books in October, as well as the launching frenzy of my novel, A Time Never Lived--am unprepared. You see, I currently find myself with three full-time jobs. Yes. Three. Writer. Editor. Mother. Writer is being sorely neglected the last few weeks, stepping back so that Editor and Mother can get what must be done, done. She's a bit pouty, but she'll survive. This isn't the first time she's had to get in the back seat.

And that brings me to my subject today, one I am pulling out of my ass as I sit here at my keyboard, frazzled and frenzied and wondering what the hell am I going to write about: Time.

More precisely, making it. Taking it. Appreciating it.

We get so caught up in what must be done that sometimes we forget about those things we want to do. Kim Vandervort's post last week about summer reading is a good example of what I want to get done, and that I'm neglecting.

Skychair time.
Reading time.

Writing time.

They are easily forgone because of the must-do-things life is currently bogging me down with; and because I am so bogged down, those wants get shoved further and further into the back seat. I've given myself up to those musts. As the saying goes, All work and no play makes Jane a dull girl.

You do it. We all do. I bet you're doing it today. Responsibility should not be shirked, but neither should we sacrifice ourselves completely. So this is my battle cry to you all: Do something for yourself today.

Take half an hour to read a few chapters in that book that's been sitting on your bedside table for weeks. Go for a walk--not for exercise!--but to simply enjoy the sunshine, or the rain. Write. Open up that file or notebook and let the words building up behind all the must-dos out! Play with your dog, your cat, your kids, your significant other, yourself! Have a glass of wine, a cup of tea, a piece of chocolate.

Breathe.
Enjoy.
Don't just take the time, appreciate it.

The moment I finish this post, I'm going out to the skychair without my laptop, even though I have an edit to finish. I'm going out with the book I've been trying to read, because I'm really enjoying it, and I deserve thirty minutes before running off on the next errand to enjoy it.
So what I want to know from you, right here-right now, is...
What are you going to do for yourself TODAY!
If you leave it in comments, you must do it; you will do it! There's magic in that. I promise.

Summer Reading!

This will come as no surprise to anyone that I loved to read as a kid, and the best time to read was summer vacation. I played outside with friends plenty, but some of my favorite moments were spent lying on the couch, stretched out on my bed, or on a lounge chair outside, taking a break with my favorite characters. I spent many a lazy summer with Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary. The summer before my seventh grade year I read 1001 Arabian Nights. The next summer I spent with Douglas Adams and Joyce Ballou Gregorian’s excellent fantasy trilogy, now long out of print. In high school I discovered romance novels, David Eddings, Stephen King, and so many more. The joy was in the discovery of new authors, new stories, new worlds.

Summer has come around again, and now that I’m done teaching for the semester, I can’t wait to get reading! This year my list is full of books that have been collecting beside my bed for months. Here’s a list of the top five I’m most eager to open and explore:

1. Insurgent by Veronica Roth. The second novel in a dystopian trilogy, Roth’s future Chicago is divided into sectors defined by values. It seemed like an odd premise when I first picked up Divergent last year, but the first novel in this series was well written and thoroughly engaging. It rivals Hunger Games, and it some ways, is even better.

2. Beyond the Gate by Terri-Lynne DeFino. I’m bragging here, but I get to beta read Terri’s forthcoming novel this summer. Woot! If you haven’t read Finder and A Time Never Lived, you are missing out on some phenomenal summer reads, with unique, non-European inspired worlds and well-drawn characters you will fall in love with.

3. The Kingdom of Gods by N.K. Jemisin. I’ve been looking forward to reading this, the third book in Jemisin’s Inheritance trilogy, since I picked it up at World Fantasy last November. Her unique fantasies and worlds are inspiring, her characters rich and engaging, the writing beautiful.

4. Starters by Lissa Price. I received a chapter sample of this book at World Fantasy. My fifteen-year-old picked it up and bought the book as soon as it came out. Another dystopian, this novel posits a future in which the elderly can “rent” the bodies of young men and women in order to experience youth again. The premise is fresh and different, and my daughter recommended it, so I think I have to read it!

5. Timeless by Gail Carriger. This is the final book in Carriger’s Parasol Protectorate series, which is a steampunk/ paranormal/ comedy of manners/ mystery set in 19^th century London. Vampires, werewolves and soulless, those who can negate paranormal powers with a touch, abound in London’s high (and low) society. Alexia Tarabotti, wife of a werewolf and friends of vampires, is an Austen-esque heroine with a cool head in a crisis and plenty of wit.

If none of these appeal, I’d also highly recommend the fantasies of some of our summer guests, who are also on the list of my favorite authors:

June 25^th: The Psalms of Isaak series by Ken Scholes is high on my list of all-time favorite fantasy series. Start with Lamentation, read Canticle and Antiphon, then wait on pins and needles for Requiemwith the rest of us.

July 23^rd: Dorothy Hearst’s Wolf Chronicles are a fantastic summer read for paranormal fans and animal lovers alike. Who doesn’t love wolves?

July 30^th: Sharon Shinn’s Twelve Houses series is a fantastic blend of fantasy and romance, with strong female characters and phenomenal worldbuilding.

August 13^th: Jim C. Hines, our final summer guest, re-envisioned storybook princesses as kick-ass heroines long before Once Upon a Time and Snow White and the Huntsman. His damaged but awesome Sleeping Beauty is probably my favorite.

Now a question for all of you, gentle readers: what are you reading this summer? Sound off!

by Kim Vandervort

The Players on the Other Side: Some Thoughts on Villainy in Fiction

Please welcome this month's special guest blogger, Debra Doyle! Debra Doyle was born in Florida and educated in Florida, Texas, Arkansas, and Pennsylvania -- the last at the University of Pennsylvania, where she earned her doctorate in English literature, concentrating on Old English poetry.  While living and studying in Philadelphia, she met and married James D. Macdonald, who was then serving in the US Navy, and subsequently traveled with him to Virginia, California, and the Republic of Panamá, accumulating various children, cats, and computers along the way.

Doyle and Macdonald left the Navy and Panamá in 1988 in order to pursue writing full-time. Since then they have lived in a big, and increasingly run-down, 19th-century house in Colebrook, New Hampshire, where they write science fiction and fantasy for children, teenagers, and adults.  Their most recent joint works include Lincoln's Sword, an alternate-historical fantasy set during and just after the Civil War, and the short story "Philologos: or, A Murder in Bistrita" (The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, February 2008.)  Their Mageworlds series of space opera novels are now available from Tor as e-books at Amazon, Barnesand Noble, and other electronic outlets.  For the morbidly curious, a full bibliography is available on their web page: http://www.sff.net/people/doylemacdonald/novels.htm.

In addition to writing, Debra Doyle also does freelance editorial and critique work at Dr.  Doyle's Editorial Services, and is a regular instructor at the Viable Paradise Writer's Workshop (for which registrations are still open until June 15th.)

I have a philosophical objection to Capital-E Evil in villains. Very few people -- even the ones who really ought to be removed from society in some permanent fashion for the sake of the greater good -- wake up in the morning and say to themselves, "I'm going to go out and be Evil today." Some of them justify what they're doing in one fashion or another, some of them simply consider that they're doing their jobs, and some of them—frequently the most appalling of them -- think that they're doing good.

No, really.  Most people have a heroic self-image that they aspire to, or fantasize about, or attempt to live up to.  If you're a writer, one of the ways to make your villains three-dimensional is to pay attention to what kind of heroic self-images they have -- the predatory businessman may regard himself as a Prosperity-Creating Captain of Industry, for example, just as the smothering, over-controlling parent or guardian may look in the mirror and see a Protector Against All Harm  And entirely too many political villains, both fictional and real, cherish a heroic self-image as The One Who Can Make Hard Choices for the Greater Good.  These people don't think they're villains.  They think they're heroes.

(And sometimes, they actually are.  The conflict of good versus evil is a steady, reliable story-engine; but if you want some real fictional horsepower, there's nothing like the conflict of good versus good.  This is what makes Magneto, of the X-Men comics and movies, into such an effective and memorable villain: He's got serious, even sympathetic, reasons for setting out on his course of villainy, and his long-term goals are not all that far from the goals of the good guys in that universe. It's his methods that they cannot accept, and that they have to fight.)

A lot of writers suffer from a failure of nerve when it comes to writing their villains.  They resort to making their stories' antagonists into two-dimensional mustache-twirlers, or cardboard bigots, or power-mad psychos, because to do the hard thing, and write the villain as though he had an honest belief in his own (however evil) actions, would require them -- for the span of time necessary to write the guy properly -- to live inside the villain's head, and to (however temporarily) become him, to do his deeds and to believe his beliefs.  Or her beliefs, since equality of fictional opportunity should allow female characters the choice to become villainous as well.

The reader doesn't need to feel sorry for the villain. But if the story is going to go into the villain's point of view at some point, then the reader is going to have to be the villain during that time, and is going to have to look at the world through the villain's eyes; and for that to happen, the writer is going to have to go there first. A lot of writers wimp out on that one -- they have their despicable antagonist's internal musings be the equivalent of gloating and twirling his mustache, as opposed to, say, worrying about whether or not his good black cloak is going to last another winter and if not, whether the current wages of sin are going to stretch far enough to buy him a new one.

In short, the villain and his allies have no fictional life outside of their villainy, which is a failure of imagination that results in flat characters and flatter scenery. If (to invent a quick-and-dirty social milieu to avoid invidious specifics) the writer's heroic and virtuous band of generalized goodness-and-light worshipers (insert deity or principle of choice here for best personal resonance) are being persecuted by the dark votaries of the dreaded Spider God . . . then the writer has to spend some time worshiping the Spider God as well, in order to know, on a gut level, why it is that an otherwise harmless bunch of Fantasyland Unitarians (or whatever) constitute an affront to the moral order of the universe as perceived by the Great Spider.

For that matter, if the dreaded Spider God is going to be all that important to the story, then the writer needs to spend some serious time thinking about Spiderian Theology (current state of, historical state of), and Spiderian Mysticism, and Spiderian Heresies.  Because the problem with one-sided axe-grinding is that it gives us all those fantasy worlds where the evil Church (always with a capital C) appears to have nothing else to do with its time except persecute innocent elves and magic-users and uppity women and anybody else the author thinks is Good and Nice.  This generic evil Church doesn't have any theology, it doesn't have any history, it doesn't have any scriptures (except possibly for a few texts on the proper oppression of elves, et cetera), it doesn't have any internal politics, it doesn't have any saints or mystics or martyrs or missionaries or ordinary hardworking clerics or even members of the Ladies' Altar Guild (all available character slots having been completely taken up by Patriarchs, Inquisitors, and Corrupt Members of the Priesthood) -- it does not, in short, function in any way like an actual, real-world religion as far as the lives of ordinary people in the created world are concerned.  It's a cardboard institution, an all-purpose demon-on-a-stick, and it makes for bad, shallow, unoriginal writing.

For good writing, respect your villains.  Let them win some of the arguments, instead of always being crushed underneath the weight of your protagonist's overwhelming righteousness.  Give them some virtues, the better to make their vices stand out in high relief.  Love them a little, even -- they're yours, and you made them, and you set their feet on the path of evil, so who else is going to care for them even as they inevitably go down?

A Time Never Lived

I had a feeling Terri was not going to do this for herself, so I'm going to take advantage of my spot to talk about the most exciting event this month for Heroines of Fantasy:  the release of Terri-Lynne DeFino's new novel A Time Never Lived.

Those of you who are familiar with Terri's work will be delighted to learn that A Time Never Lived takes us back to the same Mediterranean-style world as Finder, a diverse collection of countries and cultures that surround the aptly-named Bloodbane Sea. 

A Time Never Lived takes place several years after Finder, and includes some of the same characters.  It is, however, a stand-alone novel, so you do not need to have read Finder in order enjoy A Time Never Lived.  (Let me just say, however, that if you have not yet read Finder, you are missing out! This is a wonderful novel that should have an honored place on every fantasy reader's shelf.  If you don't have the budget to order a copy on line, try your luck at the Goodreads Giveaway that Hadley Rille Books is sponsoring; the link to register for your chance to win a free signed copy is on the right-hand column.  Or check your local library.  Many public libraries carry this and other Hadley Rille titles, for the free enjoyment of all readers.)

Without going into the specific plots and conflicts of Terri's novels (you can read the blurbs elsewhere), I want to tell you a little bit about what appeals to me about Terri's work.
 

First and foremost, I admire the authenticity of her world.  Cities such as Bosbana, and the regions of Greater Argoa and Therk are entirely imagined, yet come across as very real.  We can easily see ourselves having a cup of tea with her characters, or getting drunk with them (and suffering through the resulting hangover with them), or traveling through the hills, deserts and cities of their world.  We learn to recognize the cultural background of each character by their words and mannerisms, and we understand the challenges, conflicts and injustices they face because it all seems somehow very much a part of our own history. 

Layered over this, we have the trials and tribulations of protagonists who are thoroughly human: talented, creative, flawed, deceptive, proud, insecure, and most of all adventuresome.  In Finder we are given the love story of Ethen, hunter of slaves, and Zihariel, the slave who is hunted.  A Time Never Lived tackles a different kind of love through the devotion of Vic, who embarks on a perilous search for his lost father.  In both cases, the lives of the protagonists are embedded in a community of minor characters whose own desires and personal challenges are woven through the primary conflict, adding even more dimension, color and spice to the novels. 

A Time Never Lived will be launched this weekend at ConQuest, Kansas City's own science fiction and fantasy convention.  If you are in the Kansas City area, you will have multiple opportunities to meet Terri, purchase her books and get her signature.

On Thursday, May 24, Terri will be at Prospero's Bookstore for the event High Adventure with Hadley Rille Books, which will feature eleven authors of science fiction and fantasy from all over the United States. 

Friday, May 25, through Sunday, May 27, Terri will be attending ConQuest itself.  She will be in several panels, including a panel of Hadley Rille authors on Saturday, May 26, at 11am.  Also on May 26, there will be a mass signing with all the con authors at 3pm.  And right after that, at 4pm, we will have the official launch party for A Time Never Lived.

If you can't make it to Kansas City this weekend, there are ways you can join the fun on line.  Hadley Rille Books is sponsoring two giveaways through Goodreads, one for each of Terri's novels.  There are links on the right hand bar that can take you straight to the giveaway pages, where you can learn more about the novels and how to register to win. 

You can also join me, right here on Heroines of Fantasy, in congratulating Terri on the release of her second novel. 

Congratulations, Terri!  WOOT WOOT!  Let the party begin.

posted by Karin Rita Gastreich

Homecoming and saying good-bye

My youngest daughter just returned from four months studying abroad. Her homecoming was full of squeals and hugs and tears and kisses. As it so happened, I was just returning from a week at the beach, a yearly retreat I take with nine other writing women. Her grand homecoming was my smaller one, and both all-around joyful.

But...

There's always a but, isn't there? Coming home meant leaving something behind. In her case, it was France and traveling Europe, and friends she will likely never see again; in mine, it was beloved friends I see only once a year, the turbulent tranquility of the sea, and a week of autonomy a wife and mother of four gets only very rarely. Coming home means saying good-bye.

One of my favorite homecomings occurs in Return of the King (movie.) The Hobbits return to the Shire riding fine ponies and wearing their finery; returning heroes even if no one actually knew what it was they did. In the movie version, Saruman and Wormtongue hadn't gotten to the Shire. Life continued on almost as if Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin never left.

Our four heroes sit in the pub where they once sang and drank as obliviously as those all around them, they look at one another with a glance that says, "We will never be the same." There is a sweetness to it, and there is sorrow. Once out in the world, after seeing and experiencing all they had and saying good-bye to those friends made along the way, there really was no coming home again.

Homecomings can be poignant, joyous, disastrous, ,sorrowful, frustrating, hilarious or all of the above. Sometimes coming home is how the story starts, and sometimes it's how it ends. Wherever it appears, it is a transitional moment, a pivot in time, and always important. In my novel, A Time Never Lived, releasing at the end of this month, the story revolves around homecomings of all sorts. One character returns home from exile to face consequences she thought she would never have to. Another character's homecoming brings unexpected joy, and yet another pair returns only to find a new adventure awaiting them. In each case, it meant saying good-bye to family, friends, and experiences that, once had, made going home to what once was impossible.

Have you ever thought of homecomings this way? I don't know that I ever have; and if I have, it was only subconsciously. It got me thinking about other homecomings, and why they touched me, and how they connected to the necessary good-byes. I keep thinking of the end scene in The Hunger Games (movie)--I won't put any spoilers here in the body of this post. It was magnificently done, the joy and the sorrow, that sense of never being able to truly come home again. It touched me on many levels, and sticks with me even after several weeks. 

And then there's the homecomings that never happen, but are striven for throughout the story. Again, I won't put spoilers here, but I do welcome them in comments, because I can think of a few of these--and I'm getting chills doing so.


So now that I've got you thinking, I want to hear about the homecomings and good-byes that really stick with you, whether in movies or books, plays or operas, your own work or by someone else.

The Value of Tradition

May, the turning of the season, is a time for rituals, traditions, and celebrations.  When I was a young girl in Arizona, my schoolmates and I would step outside the monotony of the classroom every May 1^stto twirl colorful ribbons around the maypole.  On Cinco de Mayo a few days later, we would don sombreros and learn traditional Mexican dances.  Other, lesser rituals followed later in the month: annual band concerts and talent shows, report cards, scrubbing down desks and packing up classrooms for the summer.

While I didn’t always understand the cultural significance of May Day or Cinco de Mayo at the time, the importance of ritual itself—the sameness, the excitement, the knowledge that so many before had walked these same steps and so many after me would follow—made me feel a part of something greater and more significant than myself.  I, the annoying geek, last chosen for sports and happier with a book than a ball, was no less special than those around me.  I was a small cog in a bigger wheel.  Despite my idiosyncrasies and inadequacies, I belonged.

As I grew older, the importance of these and many other rituals, as well as the history behind them, gave depth and meaning to the cultures I studied, the movies I watched, and, most importantly, the books I read.  Rituals, whether they are to celebrate fertility or praise the turning of a season, to mourn the death of a loved one or honor a life well-lived, define cultural boundaries and expectations.  They also define character (or lack thereof).  Whether or not a character chooses to pray or how one follows or defies societal norms and expectations can reveal a great deal in very few words.  

Currently, I’m working my way through Martin’s A Clash of Kings, the second in his Game of Thronesseries.  The characters often refer to “the old gods and the new,” giving some weight to the world, but it wasn’t until I read the scene in which Catelyn Stark seeks out a sept and prays to the Seven that I really understood who these gods were and appreciated the depth of her beliefs.  The scene gave a gravity to the world that made it so much more real for me.  Say what you will of Martin; he does a bang-up job of worldbuilding.  Similarly, Lord of the Rings, the gold standard of fantasy, also features well-worn worlds steeped in rituals and time-honored traditions, and one of my favorite, lesser-known series, Lian Hearn’s Tales of the Otori fully develops a Japanese-inspired world defined by tradition.  Ken Scholes’ Psalms of Isaak explores the darker side of rituals with religions steeped in torture and blood sacrifice; the conflicts that arise from the impending spread of this religion drive his series toward its conclusion.

Whether the author borrows heavily from past cultures or creates its own rituals and traditions, whether the acts and emotions of those involved are private or public, highly personal or shared by a nation, one thing is for certain: as in real life, rituals and traditions give the characters—and the readers—a greater sense of belonging.  They give weight to a fictional world; like the layer of dirt on Aragorn’s cloak, they make a world feel less new, less tidy. 

I’d love to hear how rituals and traditions play a role in what you’re reading (or writing)!  How do they impact the fiction we love, or love to hate? 

Sound off!

posted by Kim Vandervort

When is Enough, Enough?

This week's guest blogger is Hadley Rille Books' own Mark Nelson, author of The Poets of Pevana--a man and book near and dear to my heart. I pulled Mark's book out of the slush last summer, and got past what has now gone down in HRB history as "the worst query letter of all time" to discover a true gem. I'm proud to claim this discovery, to be his editor, and now, after months of working together, I am honored to call him my friend. Thanks for being here, Mark!

First I would like to thank the ladies of Heroines of Fantasy for granting me the space to air some thoughts on a few things about something all of us who call ourselves writers have strong feelings about: story.  Some of the characters in my first book, The Poets of Pevana, hold story-telling as a sacred trust.  Poetry is a part of their livelihoods and their faith. Simply put: it is serious business and not to be taken lightly.

Homer knew his business, as did the host of ancient oral tradition versifiers who related their tales across the campfires and feast halls of antiquity. One thing that always came clear to me when I encountered some of those great stories was their innate, intrinsic rhythm, pace and depth—as if somehow made perfect through time and repetition. I am reminded of Kipling’s short fiction that my grandmother owned: Just So Stories.

Just so: what a great way to describe things that were just long enough to hold all the magic necessary to enthrall a young mind—or any mind for that matter.  The story-teller had to hold his audience with the power of his spoken word. He had to weave description, setting, tone, character—all the biggies that perplex high school students who still have to wade through generic literature anthologies as part of their required English courses—and KEEP them focused purely by the quality of his delivery.

Those ancients knew when they reached just so. They must have had amazing control of their idioms, knowledge of their subject and their audience.  I suspect the relationship in those former times was much more intensely intimate than what we generally experience today.  We read these great old tales as printed translations, and I am not so sure that Gutenberg’s amazing invention wasn’t a double edged sword. We can now preserve almost everything from the oral tradition, but something is still lost.  I think it might be, at least in part, that connection between speaker and subject, that special knowledge of just so.

What all the verbosity above adds up to is a question that has perplexed me in recent years as I observe the world of modern letters: when is enough, enough? Fantasy and Science Fiction have increasingly become ‘series centric’ genres.  I see a similar effect in Historical Fiction was well, but my issues there are less troubling.  Cornwell has been reshaping the facts of history throughout twenty one volumes in his Sharpe Series alone, and he writes very few stand alone novels. But again, I can see reasons for making an allowance there.

My main concerns are with authors who lose control of their stories in Science Fiction and Fantasy.  Please understand, there are many, many vibrant multi-volume stories out there pleasing a horde of dedicated book-buying fans.  And yet I wonder if “more and more and more” has a potentially negative impact on ‘just so.’

Tolkien lamented the LOTR was too short. Cherryh is on her 13^th or 14^th volume in her Foreigner series and seems intent on more. I have three drafted and a fourth planned for my Pevanaproject, so I might be guilty of my own accusation!  But I have encountered a number of projects where I felt the author really lost touch with their tale and began selling books rather than telling a story. I thought Twilight mighthave had a good book or two worth of material that really suffered by being stretched over four.  Jordan’s Wheel of Time had such a huge beginning with its first four volumes, but by the time I reached Winter’s Heart I had to give up. Nine hundred pages where nothing happened seemed almost insulting. Those early books had passion, power, politics, flawed heroes, epic quests, relevant good and evil. So good, but it needed to end.

I think Jordan stopped telling a story and started selling books. I think the best stories are those that manage to make a happy compromise between both goals: enrich the audience and enrich the author. I also think there is a responsibility inherent there on the part of the author, the publishing house and those that create the marketing model pushing the story to the reading public: don’t insult the intelligence of your patrons. 

So, to end this first ever rant: What are your thoughts on ‘story’? What do you think is ‘enough’ or ‘just so’?  Have you ever encountered stand alone novels or books in a series that ‘work’, that retain that freshness of the skald’s voice over the campfire?  Have you also met up with a text that seemed to lose that connection? Have you persevered through a series only to find that it lost you halfway through?

I would like to know why so many of them seem to find their way onto best seller lists…

Mark Nelson is a career educator and happily married to his best friend and fellow educator. Together they have raised three beautiful daughters and one semi-retired cat. Words, music, food and parenting serve as a constant source for inspiration, challenge and reward. To temper such unremitting joy, Mark plays golf: an addiction that provides a healthy dose of humility.

Swords, Stays and Sesame Ice Cream

Please join us in welcoming this week's guest, Alison Goodman.  Alison's most recent novel is EONA which is the sequel to EON (aka The Two Pearls of Wisdom) and the conclusion of the EON duology. EON won the 2008 Aurealis Award for Best Fantasy Novel, and recently it was listed as a 2010 American Library Association Best Young Adult Book, a James Tiptree Jr. Award Honour Book and a C.B.C.A Notable Book.

Alison's first novel was Singing The Dogstar Blues, a science-fiction comedy thriller, which won an Aurealis Award for Best Young Adult Novel, and was listed as a C.B.C..A. Notable Book and an A.L.A. Best Young Adult book of 2004. It has recently been re-jacketed and re-released in Australia. Her second novel, Killing the Rabbit, is a crime/thriller for adults published in the U.S. by Bantam Books and shortlisted for the Davitt Award.

I can now say with authority that a boned short stay – a kind of early 19^th century corset – is not very comfortable. Especially when you are dancing a quadrille for thirty minutes with a lot of skipping and twirling and whooping involved. I know this because I have just returned from four days of living in Regency dresses and bonnets and the aforesaid stays, learning how to dance like Jane Austen. That’s me in the photo in full Regency regalia at the Jane Austen Festival Australia. It was all in aid of research for my new historical/adventure/supernatural trilogy set in the early 1800’s, and it is only the start of my sensory research journey.

Whenever I start a new series, I try and recreate – as closely as possible – some of the skills and experiences my characters would have in my novels. I call it experiential research, although a good friend jokingly calls it method writing. I always hit the books and primary resources as well – that is an essential part of research – but to create a full and rich sensory world for my reader, I also try to walk for a while in my main character’s shoes. Literally.

For my fantasy duology, EON and EONA, I learned how to fight with Chinese swords. I wasn’t very good at it, but after taking some lessons I was able to describe how it felt to hit something with a blade at full force, when and where the tendons and muscles of a body were strained during a fight, and how the weight of each sword affected the swings and blocks. All of that information appears in the battle scenes in EONand EONA, bringing the reader closer to the experience of fighting with two long curved swords.

Another part of my experiential research process is to gather as much sensory information as I can from a place that is similar to the world that I am creating in my novels. I haven’t always been able to do it – travel is expensive – but when I can, I jump at the opportunity.

For EON and EONA, I was lucky enough to be able to visit Japan, Hong Kong and Singapore. I did the usual research visits to museums and libraries. But I also walked down dark, narrow streets strung with flags and washing, and listened to snatches of conversation. I visited markets and smelled unusual fruits and spices, and touched lengths of smooth silk that slid through my fingers. I tasted delicious doughy buns filled with red bean paste, and ate delicate black sesame ice cream in an old Geisha laneway lit with red lamps. Everything that I experienced got logged in my internal bank of sensory information, and a lot of it made its way into my descriptions of the Imperial City and the villages in EON and EONA.  

Every time I sit down to write, it is one of my aims to take my readers deep into my imaginary world through their five senses. When I read a book, I love to feel like I am walking alongside the main character, living every moment in a place that is bright with sights and sounds, smells and textures and, of course, wonderful tastes. That is what I hope to achieve in my own novels.

For my new series, I am off to England, and on the day this blog is posted, I will be in Mayfair where my main character, Lady Helen, lives in a Georgian townhouse in the heart of fashionable Regency London. In fact, I will be staying at her exact address: 12 Half Moon Street. The townhouse is now part of a hotel, and so I will be able to wake up in a room much like her own, wander the streets where she would have shopped and promenaded, and see some of the sights she would have seen; places like Rotten Row in Hyde Park and Regent Street. Of course, 21^st century London is not the same as 19^thcentury London, but there are enough traces of that mad and grand time left to jump-start my imagination.

So when Lady Helen finally makes her debut on to the bookshelves, I invite you to live a while in Regency London. Smell the smoky coal on the air, taste the nutty char of roast chestnuts, and feel the tight hold of your stays as you dance a quadrille opposite a man who may just be a little more demonic than you expected.

Alison lives in Melbourne, Australia, with her husband, Ron, and their Machiavellian Jack Russell Terrier, Xander. She was a D.J. O'Hearn Memorial Fellow at Melbourne University, holds a Master of Arts, and has taught creative writing at postgraduate level. Alison is currently working on a new fiction series, and professionally mentors a small number of writers on their book-length projects.

For news about the Lady Helen series, keep an eye on Alison’s website at  www.alisongoodman.com.au, or her Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/AlisonGoodmanFanPage

The Firebird paperback edition of the New York Times Bestseller EONA, the sequel to EON, has just been released in the USA. Alison’s award winning first novel, Singing The Dogstar Blues, has also just been reissued with a great new cover and extras including a continuation of Joss and Mav’s adventures in a bonus short story.

I'm Late! I'm Late!

"… nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, `Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!' (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat- pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge."

As you may have noticed, gentle readers, this week’s Heroines of Fantasy post is up late. I didn’t remember until yesterday, when I was chatting on the phone with Terri-Lynne and running late to my office hours, that I had also fallen behind in putting together this week’s post. Oops!

Fortunately, my tardiness gave me an excellent topic for this week’s post. As much as we dislike tardiness, whether we are embarrassed for being late or we are frustrated by someone else’s lack of time management, the raw reality is that inevitably, at some point, we fall behind. We lose track of time. Or, some just choose not to follow the social constraints and obligations that require us to be timely. And sometimes, missing that plane that went down in the harbor or for work on September 11, 2001 could even save our lives.

In literature, tardiness causes all sorts of delicious problems. What if the White Rabbit had not been late? Would Alice still have discovered the rabbit hole? What if Frodo and Sam had reached Mt. Doom after the defeat of Aragorn and the last army of men? Late reinforcements to a key battle or the arrival of a messenger just in the nick of time could make or break a story, yet we don’t often pause to consider the full impact of tardiness on the problem at hand.

Being late causes all sorts of other ancillary problems. If a character is perennially late, whether to a battle or a ball, his or her peers must make hard choices about whether or not to depend on or trust that character, and their decision could determine the fate of individuals or kingdoms. And why is that character (or legion) late? Is he a drunk or did he sleep late? Was he attacked on the road by bandits or was he eaten by wild dogs? Did the commander refuse to dispatch the army or were they delayed by bad weather or rough seas? And if that character is late for an important rendezvous, what happens next? Do the other characters continue on without him, or do they delay to wait for him, and how does that decision affect the rest of the events in the story?

It’s a small thing, being late, but timing is everything in fiction, as in life. What examples can you recall of instances in which tardiness significantly affects a story? Discuss!

Meanwhile, I’m off to review my calendar… and locate my watch!

~Kim Vandervort

Eternal Forest

This post is a follow up to TheLandscape of my Imagination, and part of the Andrews Forest Writers Residency series begun on my blog for Eolyn during May, June and July of 2011.  My decision to revisit the topic of forest and landscape in fantasy is in part a recognition of Earth Day, coming up on April 22. 

***

This thousand-year-old oak resides in the forest
that inspired the South Woods.

Last night we went to see the movie The Hunger Games, in which twenty-four teenagers are chosen at random and obligated to kill each other – or die themselves – while struggling to survive in a mountain wilderness. 

I could devote this blog to yet another analysis of the strengths and weaknesses of the film, but there's plenty of that going on elsewhere in the internet.  So for the moment I'd rather talk about wilderness, how by the end of the film Hunger Games, I was contemplating, once again, the importance of setting in science fiction and fantasy.

The presence of wilderness, and particularly forested wilderness, is often considered a standard trope for classic epic fantasy.  Anything written in the tradition of Tolkien is expected to have at least one uncharted forest, beautiful and deadly, filled with magical creatures and dangerous mysteries.

I’ve often thought of modern fantasy, and especially science fiction, as eschewing this trope and being bound more to the urban landscape of a contemporary-style world.  Yet last night The Hunger Games challenged this impression.  After all, the most intense part of Kat’s journey is undertaken in the deep forest.  And when you think about it, hers is not the only example of forest in modern fantasy and science fiction. 

Where would fantasy be without the Ents?

In the Twilight series, the vampire Edward reveals his sparkly nature to Bella in a shaft of light breaking through ancient trees.  J.K. Rowling built Harry Potter’s beloved academy of magick not in downtown London, but in a scarcely populated rural area, with a healthy forest in the backyard. In addition, the forest provides Harry refuge in the days before his final confrontation with Voldemort.  And of course, one must only mention the word Avatar to inspire images of Home Tree, along with the vast and exhuberant ecosystem in which it lives. 

If these titans of modern fantasy are any indication, the landscapes of our imagination have not been as deforested as I once thought.  The deep woods are still a place of exploration, mystery, adventure and danger.  Whether or not we ourselves have been to a forest, we like to see our characters go into that living maze, and we like to see them come out awed by beauty, harried by experience and transformed by truth.

During my week at Andrews Experimental Forest last summer, I had the opportunity to contemplate the meaning of forest from both a biological and literary standpoint.  I came to the conclusion – admittedly based more on personal experience than statistical data – that the encounter with wilderness can have a unique and important impact on the imagination. Old growth forest, in particular, stretches our understanding of reality, inspires images of the fantastic, and challenges us to relate to the world and to each other in ways that are both novel and unexpected.

Andrews Experimental Forest: home to one
of the last remnants of Old Growth in Oregon. 

As a fantasy author, I’ve discovered I have a special gift. When I write stories, I can bring the experience of being in the forest to life for my reader. 

But no matter how immersed readers feel in Eolyn's forested world, it is impossible for me to capture the full essence of Forest with words. 

More importantly, whatever small piece of wilderness I’ve been able to bring to my readers has depended entirely on the fact that there are still old growth forests out there that have welcomed me into their verdant depths, then sent me back to my computer with new ideas and fresh plots.

So as Earth Day approaches, I am going to ask something of you, fantasy readers and fans.  I ask you to remember Old Growth Forest.  This is not just a place in the pages of our books – not yet, anyway.  Forest is a living entity in our world, an active partaker in the art of storytelling.  And it is under threat, in the tropics, in the temperate latitudes, in the great expanses of the boreal north. 

Educate yourselves about the reasons we are losing old growth forest.  Learn what you can do to help, and do it. Our stories are not born out of thin air; they are part and parcel of the organic world in which we live. So if you like your fantasy worlds to have ancient forests, make sure the real world you live in has them as well. 

-  posted by Karin Rita Gastreich

The forests of Middle Earth were inspired by old growth European
deciduous forests of which only small pieces
 remain, like this one in Montenegro.

The Written World

In October of 2006, I attended the Viable Paradise Workshop for Science Fiction and Fantasy writers. I knew it would change my life as a writer, but I had no idea just how tremendously it would do so. I had attended workshops before; in fact, I'd become a devoted "dollbaby" years earlier, through a now-defunct workshop called Side Trips for Women. While it had opened up my solitary world of writing in a void, it wasn't life-changing. Having writer-friends was a huge thing for me, but writing fantasy among mainstream fiction writers is like being the duck in a room full of chickens. We all had feathers, but we were different birds.

Then came Viable Paradise*.

I was an X-man, it being the tenth year of the workshop. The mentors that year were Teresa Neilsen Hayden, Patrick Neilsen Hayden, James Macdonald, Debra Doyle, Steven Gould, Laura Mixon, James Patrick Kelly, and Cory Doctorow. Quite the lineup of superstars in the field--one and all. That was also the year Steve's Jumper was being made into a movie, and Cory was winning, or had already won, every honor his peers had to bestow. I was nervous, but excited. Not just a week with such mentors, but with peers! Fantasy and science fiction writing peers.

It made all the difference. I was a duck with other ducks! I didn't have to explain why worldbuilding was necessary to the story, or that suspension of belief is part of the game. We truly were birds of a feather. The friends I made there remain dear to me now. Bonds made in battle are the bonds that stay strong--yes, I said battle. Not as foes, but as comrades; for something, not against anything.

That path continued unwinding in new and amazing ways. Because of VP, I met sister in Heroines of Fantasy, Kim Vandervort (who attended VP the year after I did.) And because I met Kim, I became aware of Hadley Rille Books. And because of her experience with Eric Reynolds, I knew HRB was the place for me. I wrote Finder knowing I would send it to Hadley Rille. I did. Eric accepted it. It was a wild ride! And in November of 2010, my book released out into the world.

Further along that path, and several months after releasing my book with HRB, Eric asked if I would be one of his editors. I'd already sub-edited four novels for him. "Let's make this official," he said, and we did. I've been one of the fantasy editors with Hadley Rille books for a little over a year. My first solo edit, The Poets of Pevana, releases in June, 2012. I have two more books I'm helping into the world for 2012; and my second novel, A Time Never Lived releases in May. Busy me.

I've sat on panels at conventions. I've done book signings, and spoken to writers' groups. I've pulled some excellent novels out of the slush, and had to reject more than I'd like to admit. I've met some of my favorite authors, and after blathering nonsensically, was treated as a peer, not a wannabe. I am imbued with all sorts of writerly goodness. And, as it all started with Viable Paradise, it's only fitting that it comes full circle--I'll be heading up to Martha's Vineyard this October to work as staff for the workshop, carting, cooking, and generally working myself to exhaustion, and I will love every moment of it.

The written world is an amazing one, but one that requires action. It doesn't just happen, but it can feel that way when the right steps are taken. And take them you must! My journey certainly isn't typical. I don't claim to be a superstar of the genre; but I do have a place in my own small corner of this written world, and it's exactly where I want to be.

How about you? Are you there yet? Are you ready to leap onto your path? It begins when you take that first step. Ready. Set. Go.

*Viable Paradise is now open for submissions, and closes at the end of June.

Sensible Clothing for Heroines

This week's guest on Heroines of Fantasy is author, Sandra McDonald. Kim's post last week sparked some thoughts for her--and oh! What thoughts! I'll let her take it from here.

Back in college, my friend Tony had a poster on his dorm room wall of a scantily clad fantasy-novel babe, all chainmail and chains, her improbably beautiful golden hair a halo around her come-hither expression, lush red lips, and big round tits. She also was wielding a giant phallic sword. That poster was one of the reasons I wouldn't date him. You can see similar images just by typing "fantasy woman warriors" into your nearest image search engine. Regarding Kim Vandervort's recent post about scantily-clad cheerleaders, athletes and convention fans, I think it's important to realize that many real-life women and female characters are still trapped on Tony's wall, adorned and posed to please the male gaze. They just don't know it.

A few weeks later, I attended a Margaret Atwood reading at my local university. On the way to the correct auditorium I passed through the lobby of a national dance competition. Girls of all ages flitted about in glitter, heavy make-up and tight, often skimpy uniforms. Power? Confidence? Sure, they had it. But real power and real confidence, in this brave new age of the twentifirst century, would manifest in being able to compete without the feminine trappings. Not being trapped, as they were, in an athletic version of Toddlers and Tiaras.

That this dance contest was happening adjacent to Margaret Atwood's talk – Margaret Atwood, whose dystopian vision of The Handmaid's Tale is coming true with ever- increasing restrictions in our nation regarding women's reproductive rights – ah, cruel irony.

Why was Princess Leia Organa, a member of the Imperial Senate and hero of the resistance, a woman who had survived torture on the Death Star, thrown into a skimpy metal bikini for Return of the Jedi? It wasn't to show her power or intelligence. It wasn't part of her cunning plan to rescue Han Solo—the plot required her to fail. She was stripped of her sensible, would-be-rescuer costume in order to make the fanboys drool. Carrie Fischer is said to have not enjoyed filming those scenes, duct-taped as she was into metal, rubber and leather, nearly naked on a set crowded with men. I certainly didn't enjoy seeing it as a ten-foot wide poster in my local movie theater. This is what genre women have to look like, that poster screamed. That Leia strangles Jabba with her chain is a great moment, but the bikini itself was irrelevant to her success.

Jedi was the first step in my disenchantment with princesses, queens and warriors packaged up in prettiness and sensual costumes. I preferred Elizabeth Moon's The Deed of Paksenarrion and that great opening, with a young woman leaving home to join the army. (Check out the cover – there's a woman soldier for you!) Or Lois McMaster Bujold's Cordelia Naismith, battling the patriarchy in order to save her unborn, disabled baby. Or Nancy Kress's tales of Sleepers and Sleepless, Beggars in Spain, with Leisha Camden as a brainy heroine grappling with ethics. In fact, it took Kelly Link's awesome story Travels with the Snow Queen to lure me back into reading anything with "queen" in the title. Later I fell in love with Megan Whalen Turner's The Queen of Attolia, whose shocking punishment of a thief sets forth a story of redemption, transformation and love.  Today I approach female characters in speculative fiction with a wary eye; I hope I write them in a balanced, sensible clothing kind of way.

Ugly women are feminine. Women who dress in sweatpants are feminine. Men who dress in women's clothing are feminine. Feminine is a set of behaviors associated with gender, but associated by who? Why? When my thirteen-year-old niece wears a midriff shirt with her underwear poking out, it's because she's been raised on a steady media diet of airbrushed bodies and faces, of a sexualized culture where looks must exceed talent. She doesn't burn her bra because she doesn't know she can. She doesn't know why she should. I need to take her to see Margaret Atwood.

It is my hope, in this brave new age of independent and digital publishing,  that we'll embrace more definitions and examples of the feminine and move beyond The Warrior Babe.  I hope that some day she can put down the phallus, don a sweater and some pants against the chill, and maybe even enjoy the novelty of flat shoes. But somewhere right now there's fanboy like Tony, tapping on his tablet in a dorm room. What do you think is on his wall?

Sandra McDonald is a former military officer and recovering Hollywood assistant.  She is the author of five published books with two more on the way, and has more than fifty short stories in print.  Her feminist, apocalyptic, gender-bending story Seven Sexy Cowboy Robots was recently named to the James A. Tiptree Award Honor List.