Why
else are we alive?
Having
said all that, especially having said that people crave the
mystery and excitement of the quest where death awaits around
the next corner, people don't actually want to literally experience
the quest. No-one wants to wake up one morning and find Evil
Incarnate at the front door and saying something like, "Swords
at dawn okay for you, then, mate?" A book is a nice safe outlet
for the yearning for the quest; it sates the craving in the
soul for mystery and adventure and danger without the need
to fret about how good your sword-wielding skills are.
So,
fantasy sells well, hugely well, because it fills a need,
in an otherwise often soulless existence, for mystery and
romance and adventure, a need for a quest in which we can
find ourselves something other than we first thought, and
a quest in which we can prove ourselves. All the 'cliches',
or constructs of modern fantasy, are there because people
want them to be there.
However,
and whatever the history that stretches back hundreds if not
thousands of years, there are some things which are out in
modern fantasy writing. I'll talk about these in a while,
but there's one I just want to mention at this point. Strangely,
I had someone say to me on the weekend that they'd had a manuscript
rejected by Pan Books because, and I quote, "No-one wants
to read about the quest these days." I could cheerfully assure
the rejected author that a) not only were Pan Books extremely
suspect when it came to knowing what was in and out (after
all, Pan had initially rejected me as someone who would never
be able to sell a single book ... some months ago my agent
was on the phone to Pan about something else when she sweetly
interjected that were they aware that Douglass' sales were
200,000 and climbing, and what was it exactly they'd said
about me?) ... where was I? Ah yes, the rejected author who
had included a quest and had been rejected by Pan on that
count. Well, not only can Pan not always be trusted to know
what can sell and what can't, but I think the quest is very
much in, and probably will be for all human time.
The
quest is vital to both the fantasy book, as it is to our daily
lives, but the author must be aware of what the quest is about
before they embark on trying to build one themselves. Certainly
there is always something that the heroes, or characters,
or whatever, quest towards, whether it be a magic sword, or
enchanted ring, or the single book in creation that can tell
them how to deal with the evil lord that's currently gobbling
up the ice-bound north. What the author must realise is the
object of the quest is never, never important, it is the quest
itself, and what the characters who quest learn about themselves.
A quest, for whatever object, is really an internal quest
for what lies within, even though it is acted out in an external
quest that may extend across a thousand leagues and several
mountain ranges in the process. A quest is about finding yourself,
about finding your true meaning, and about being transformed
in the process. Whatever Pan thought, readers still long for
the quest because it gives them the hope that one day they
might find that kernel of truth within themselves, and become
something other than what they appear, or what the world tells
them they are.
So
the quest is still a very, very vital part of the fantasy
epic ... the trick is not to make the object the important
part of the quest ... but to make the internal and very personal
quest of the lead characters the important thing. The bad
fantasy books around that make me tear my hair out are those
in which the characters don't change during the quest: they
remain the same people as when they began. For the reader,
that is one of the most frustrating, even hopeless, situations,
because it denies them the hope for their own voyage of self
realisation.
So
here we have the fantasy author who wants to write a book,
and hopefully one that will provide a garden for all those
hungry souls out there. How does one go about creating the
'fantasy' world, how does one create the modern epic romance,
and what are the highs and lows that involves?
First
of all, one must create a world in which to place your epic.
Again, before the rise of science in the sixteenth and later
centuries, such tales were placed in our world, because this
was a world in which goblins and elves and evil workers of
enchantment and magic could exist. But science has banished
all these creatures and peoples and enchantments to the realms
of children's fairy stories, to the world of fantasy, so the
modern author, in order to allow their readers to suspend
disbelief and immerse themselves in the tale, must perforce
create a new world, or a different world, or, place their
tale in one of our past worlds.
Thus,
one must create a new world — and one of the great luxuries
of being a fantasy writer is being able to create a world
in which you make up all the rules. I remember speaking to
a author who does crime fiction (can't think of his name)
who, in the past year or 2, put out a book about a murder
mystery in Melbourne. At one point in the book, the author
had the hero take a ride on a number 8 tram through the streets
of Melbourne where he finally got off at the corner of St
Kilda Road and some smaller street. Not sooner was the book
out than the author was overwhelmed by mail from readers saying
that the Number 8 tram not only didn't stop at that particular
corner, it didn't go down St Kilda Road in the first instance,
and what the hell did he think he was doing, ruining the story
like that? The poor fellow was tearing out his hair, because
he'd spent months researching that book, and taking tram journeys
around Melbourne and making sure that people could get off
a Number 8 tram at such and such a corner, and so he went
back to check his copious notes, only to find out that he'd
meant to put down a number 18 tram, but somehow in the printing
process the 1 had been dropped and the entire murder mystery
had been endangered in the process. No wonder I prefer to
create my own worlds! At least none of my readers can actually
take the merchant ship across the Sea of Death to prove that
the Island of Fear actually lies in the Bay of Tears rather
than the Inlet of Grief.
However,
having said that the fantasy author creates a new world, we
create is actually this world ... but this world very slightly
warped and returned to a more magical and — perhaps —
a more naive age. The template for most fantasy writers is
the medieval world — the last western world in which
the fantastic was allowed to exist.
It
is also, even for most Australian writers, a northern hemisphere
world, where January and February are cold and snowy, and
June and July are hot. Why? I am often asked ... well, mostly
because we're forced to by the expectation of our readership.
We might live in the great hot southern land, but our culture,
and our mythic imaginations, are mostly European. And the
northern European landscape (both geographic and mythological)
is still where most fantasy writers choose to set their grand
tale. Again, there are exceptions, but they are the exception.
Whatever,
the fantasy author must recreate this world ... with only
a few slight changes (and those slight changes are generally
to be able replace the mystery and magic that science has
cut out). The problem in creating a vastly different world,
and the reason why we don't do it, is that the reader won't
be able to relate to it, and the one thing most fantasy readers
want to do is to relate to the world they are being presented
with, and to be able to place themselves within it. They want/need
to be able to partake in the journey as well. They still need
to be able to access the quest.
I
just want briefly to mention how I create this 'new' (or revamped
earth) world. Sometimes people who want to write fantasy feel
daunted by the whole idea of having to create a new world,
of having to create a plot that is deep enough to sustain
at least one thick book and hopefully 3 thick books, and also
creating all the characters and situations to go with this
in depth plot. Not only that, but in creating a new world
you must also create a new religion, a new culture (and a
culture with myths that stretch back hundreds if not thousands
of years), a new language, new systems of counting, new of
ways of relating to space and time (new distances, new ways
to tell time), new swear words ... the list goes on and on.
And, you must do this for every race you create to live in
your world: every race has its own culture, languages, religions,
myths etc. How long is all this going to take? the would-be
author thinks, and perhaps decides it would be best forget
the entire idea.
So
how long does it take? No less than half an hour, no more
than 2 hours, and 2 hours is more than ample. Quite literally,
all you have to do is create a map, that is, create a landscape
... and that landscape will then present to you the types
and numbers of races, the structures of their societies, what
is important in their lives and how they live their lives.
It also give you religions, gods, systems of magic, government
... whatever. Even the myths that stretch back into the unseen
past. The landscape itself will give you the rest.
I've
always started with a map. I sit down and take a half an hour
to draw freehand, and without any planning, a map of a land.
Here's the coastline (always putting in a bay or two so you
can have a port town ... ports always come in useful), here's
a few towns, here some lakes, here hills, here's a bog, here
a road, and so forth. Oh, and always a fog-bound island or
two off the coastline from whence fierce pirates or mysterious
barges can sail forth from time to time. Once you've done
that, then you can see where different peoples are going to
live: here the people who live on the plains and grow crops
and herd livestock; here the hills where live isolated groups
of mysterious monks; here the peoples who live in the soaring
mountains or the flat wastelands. The landscape dictates how
they live, and from there you move quickly to the nature of
their religions etc., the types of conflicts which might occur
between the various races, the resentments that will blow
up, etc. etc. etc. By morning tea time you have a plot and
something to keep you out of mischief for several years while
you write it up. Easy.
Now,
I've always found that process easy, but I didn't realise
how easy it was for other people until this past weekend when
I conducted a workshop on how to construct the fantasy world
for the Bendigo Writers' Group. I divided people up into groups
of 3 or 4, gave them some general instructions and some do's
and don'ts, and set them down to, in their first half an hour,
create a landscape. I must also add that about half the group
were made up of people who'd never read fantasy and didn't
know much about it.
So
I left them to it and wandered off to the kitchen and had
a cup of tea and eaten all the chocolate biscuits the Writers'
Group had kindly provided, and then I wandered back in to
see how everyone was going. I was stunned by what had taken
place in my absence. All the groups, in half an hour, had
not only created a landscape, represented by a rough map,
but had also created the societies, races, creatures etc.
which lived in their landscape. Myths and cultures were there
as well. Not only that, they'd also got well started on their
plots. All in half an hour. None of this had I asked them
to do ... it was just that once they had a landscape before
them, the peoples and races and cultures almost literally
leapt off the page and bit them on the nose. By the end of
the workshop, which extended over 5 working hours, most groups
had books ready to be typed up.
It
showed me two things. One, the power of the human imagination
given only a few prompts. And 2, what the human imagination
does once it can visualise the landscape of a different world.
Instantly it populates that world with gods and religions,
races and conflicts, heroes and scoundrels, and even a thousand
years of myth. One group, in presenting their world, got so
carried away they began their presentation with the hundreds
of years of myth and history that had shaped the races of
their land.
Well,
back to the creation of the fantasy world. Like most fantasy
authors, I almost always use a clone of the western European
medieval world as a template. In fact, my societies and landscapes
are the medieval world, and I bless the day I decided to bind
up my first year lecture notes and send them off to a literary
agent as fantastic fiction. I haven't looked back since.
Even
though the author may choose to recreate one of our past worlds,
most often the medieval world, the author faces some restrictions,
and a few things that he or she must be very, very careful
about. Because the fantasy world is so largely (if loosely)
based about the eternal conflict between good and evil, the
issues within the fantasy book can too easily become rigidly
black and white. It therefore becomes a huge temptation for
the fantasy author to portray not only issues, but cultures,
in purely black and white terms. It becomes too easy, in using
the template of a paternalistic and racist world, to be both
sexist and racist in the newly created world.
An
example: in many fantasy books (and some of mine, I admit)
the main plot is driven by the conflict between two races
(generally of very different creatures). Here is the race
which leads a blameless (if rather boring) life on the plain,
and here the malformed, dark and evil creatures who live in
the hills and who, through sheer evilness, resolve to invade
the good folk who live on the plains. Dark enchantment is
hurled about by the handful, and at the very last hour the
good (if somewhat naive and boring) folk who of the plains
find amongst themselves a golden hero who is able, through
sheer goodness and strength and bravery, to revive the forces
of the good against the evil swarming down from the hills,
and defeat them — generally only by the skin of his teeth.
Ultimately the forces of the hill folk are completely wiped
out, their culture is destroyed, their homes burned, and their
leader killed in a particularly disgusting — but totally
justifiable — way.
There
is no shading, there are no grey areas, simply the good and
the bad, and the bad have no redeeming qualities and must
be wiped out ... often only because they are 'different'.
That's
bad. but it is all too easy, and the author has to be careful
to avoid it while still trying to couch the tale in terms
of this eternal conflict between the forces of good and evil,
light and dark.
So,
how to avoid it? The most successful fantasy books about are
those which shade the difference between good and evil to
the extent where there is almost no difference at all. There
may still be a conflict between two races, or two types of
beings, one of which closely resembles us and one of which
might well closely resemble deformed toads, but the issue
of who is right and who is wrong, who is cruel and who generous,
who good and who evil, can be blurred to the extent that the
readers should despair that any one side, or race, must lose
at all, or must despair at the flaws and faults of the so-called
good guys.
The
sexist trap is also an easy one to fall into. Again, if the
author bases his or her work on a medieval template —
which society was highly sexist according to our understanding
— then having weak and directionless female characters
becomes too easy. Female characters can be shoved into roles
that don't allow them to choose their own destiny, or where
they are merely beautiful appendages to the golden (and male)
hero. Men, on the other hand, become the ones to lead the
quests (their beautiful appendages carry the backpack with
the food), it is the men who obtain the magic sword (their
beautiful appendages will dust it off for them and glue the
enchanted ruby back into its spot on the hilt), and it is
the men who then thrust the magic sword — grunting manfully
— into the dark overlord's person (while their beautiful
appendages swoon gracefully, and beautifully, in a gloomy
corner). While this is easy too use (and I admit to having
played about with it myself), no-one really wants to read
it any more.
And,
I am more than pleased to say, it seems to be the men leading
the charge in not wanting to read it. I'm certainly pleased
that my books have sold well, but I am more than surprised
that my main readers seem to be men, because while I use the
basic formula (golden hero leads quest to destroy evil overlord),
I have strong female characters, and in almost all situations
and books it is the girls who save the day after the golden
heroes have tripped up miserably over their pointy-toed shoes
and don't know what to do next.
The
other trap that fantasy authors have to be very careful not
to fall into is what I call the 'cute-trap'. There has been,
and remains, I guess, a perception that fantasy is somewhat
childish, and that if grown ups still read it, it is because
they yearn for the tales and constructions of their childhood.
Feeding this perception is the 'myth', if you like, that Tolkien
is the grandfather of all fantasy, the best fantasy writer
there ever was, and all fantasy not only derives from him,
but must be as much like him as can be. All of that is false.
Tolkien was/is only one aspect of fantasy, and his style is
but one aspect. Tolkien was very, very good at what he did,
but Tolkien-pretenders are so far out they're lost somewhere
on the Sea of Death as far as the current market is concerned.
Why? Mainly because although many readers start with Tolkien,
they grow up and move on, and they want fantasy that has grown
up and moved on as well.
So
Tolkien pretenders are out ... what else is 'out'? Cute furry
creatures are out. Cute scaly ones are, as well (at least
as main characters). Elves, goblins, dwarfs and dragons will
virtually get a manuscript rejected on first sighting. There's
a manuscript that has been going around the Australian publishing
houses for the past 3 years. It's basically a very good manuscript,
but it has a goblin on p. 49, and that's been its death knell
with every publishing house thus far.
What
do publishing houses and readers want? Grit. Realism. What
many hopeful authors over the past 30 years have overlooked
— and I'm convinced it is the key to success in today's
fantasy market — is that, as I have said, the people
who read Tolkien as children or teenagers, and who adored
him, then proceed to grow up. For many years there was a huge
hole in the fantasy market. Readers of 25, 35 or 55 still
wanted to read fantasy, but they were sick to death of cute
(especially if it lived behind a green door), they were sick
to death of dragons, they were sick of people being stuck
in the guts with swords and not saying, "Oh, gosh, that hurts",
and they were beyond sick to death of teenage hero after teenage
hero. The adult readers wanted fantasy they could relate to,
not the stuff of childish imaginations. They wanted to be
able to partake in the quest, and they were not being allowed
to.
About
15 years ago readers started to get what they wanted, although
it came out only in dribs and drabs. Books that addressed
real issues, books that had flawed heroes of over 25, books
that had grit. Where pain was pain, and people endured large
amounts of it. Where sometimes the good guy died and evil
won. Fantasy over the past few years has become increasingly
darker, and I don't think that has any other reason for it
than the fact that the market was over-stocked with the cute-Tolkien
would-bes.
But
while there are several aspects of fantasy that are 'out'
in today's market, there are some things about fantasy books
that have remained, and I suspect will remain, the same for
a very, very long time.
The
first and most obvious of these is that fantasy books not
only come in thick, but they also come in series of 3, 6,
9 or 13. One of the things I've learned as an author is that
stand alone books often don't sell. There are exceptions,
but the market literally demand a tale that doesn't end for
a very, very long time. People want to immerse themselves,
and they don't want to leave. There is only one time I've
been castigated for writing very thick books: a man came up
to me once and said that he found my books very hard to read
in bed because they were so thick. "I can only use one hand
for the book," he said, and so I asked why he could only use
one hand to read in bed. Why? "Because I like to keep the
other hand on my wife's breast," he explained.
So
writers are stuck with the thick book, and the need to produce
thick book after thick book. (Readers not only like to immerse
themselves in the tale, of course, but they also like to get
as much value for their $14.95 as they can.) This creates
its own problems ... fantasy authors have been known to pale
and get the shakes when their agent rings them up to say,
"Your last was such an outstanding success we need another
5 more. By next year, if you can."
Can
you imagine how hard it is to create a plot that you know
will probably have to go on for 3 thick books and, if the
initial series is successful, may have to go on for another
6 or 9 thick books?
So
how do you do it? I always start by creating as many characters
as I can: I can always kill them off later if I find I don't
need them (I know my characters spend their time between scenes
in a pleasant room somewhere drinking endless cups of tea
and saying things like, "Oh god, she's halfway through book
2, that means she's going to start to kill off those of us
she's decided she doesn't need. Look out, chaps, half of us
are for the chop!"). But what a large number of characters
means is that I must also create numerous subplots to keep
everyone gainfully employed, And what that means is that I
am going to have to end up tearing my hair out trying to keep
track of them all. Often, although not always, I must keep
huge charts showing where every character and subplot is at
all times, just so that I can keep everything under some semblance
of control.
But
just as often things get completely out of control. One of
my nightmares, and one that occurs in just about every book,
is that, as the quest runs its course, all the characters
from every one of the plots ends up in the same inn at the
same time. (Everyone always stays at roadside inns on quests.
It's just one of the things one does.)
Think
about it. Thirty-five characters, all of whom are important
enough to justify their own scenes, end up in the same inn
at the same time. Thhis is no scene where they can all have
their say — that would be a book in itself — and
only some 3 or perhaps 5 of them will ever be able to talk.
So where does that leave the other 30? Standing against the
wall so involved in their jugs of beer they don't feel like
talking?
Over
the years, and the books, I have evolved my own way of dealing
with these scenes. In the early days I'd have the lead character
stand up and say something like, "Well, I know what we've
all got to do, and I'm going to stand here for an hour and
tell you, and I don't want anyone else speaking until I've
finished." And then when he has finished, he can say
something like, "That's it, no more to say. Now, everyone
off on the quest. Hop to it! Go!" And out the door they'd
all obediently go.
But
you can't do that too much, and I still have those damn scenes
with everyone crowded in the same room and with not much for
most to say. So now I've evolved a different way of dealing
with it.
First,
everyone gathers and someone buys the lot a round of drinks,
complaining about the price as she or he does so. That takes
care of half a page but I've still got all 35 standing and
wanting to have their own important say. So, before the hero
arrives, I stage a fight. Ten people are involved, out of
which 6 are so badly injured they slip into a coma and can't
say a thing for the rest of the scene (down to 29). Several
of the other characters, let's say 5, can be so concerned
about the 6 in a coma they decide to ride off in search of
herbal healers. (Now we're down to 23.) At this point the
hero arrives and is so appalled by the carnage he ejects from
the room the 4 fighters who are still on their feet (down
to 19), plus 6 more men whom he says should have stepped in
and stopped the fight in the first instance. (Down to 13.)
Another 5 can be thrown out for swearing, or for being too
drunk (down to 8), 2 more can be sent off to make sure the
horses are okay (down to 6), another can be sent off with
an important dispatch for the king (5), a further 3 can be
sent to make sure nasty black creatures aren't about to crawl
down through the roof . That means we're down to 2. One of
these 2 can get upset with the hero and storm out of the room,
and the other can drop dead from the poison put in the beer
earlier by the landlord concerned that the 35 would not stay
about to pay their bill (he was right).
That
means the hero is left in an empty room (apart from those
in comas or dead), with no one left to tell what to do. He
can sit down and have a beer and wonder why there's never
ever anyone around for him to talk to. Problem solved.
The
other problem with masses of characters is that you forget
what you've done with them. I may have smiled with the author
who got the number of the Melbourne tram wrong, but I've done
far, far worse. After a while, especially when into the fifth
book of a series, and there's 4,000 pages behind you, and
perhaps 3 or 4 years of writing, you just forget what's what,
who's who and who's got what. The odd instance where someone's
eyes mysteriously turn from blue to green is mildly annoying,
but sometimes it gets far, far worse. In my most recent book
(Pilgrim) I had a character who had nimble enough fingers
to take up weaving as a craft ... what I'd overlooked that
I'd blown off his left arm in the previous book (Sinner)
(and that arm-blowing-off scene had been the big scene of
that particular book). Not only had he grown his arm back
- but he's taken up weaving as a craft!
I
had numerous, and somewhat anxious, inquiries from readers
wondering how he'd regrown his left arm. Needless to say,
the arm has now been re-blown off in the reprint (can you
imagine, in that room where all my characters wait out there
turns for scenes, drinking endless cups of tea, there's one
poor chap who had been immensely cheerful because abruptly
he'd got his arm back he'd been able to both drink his tea
and eat his date cake all at the same time, and now he's lost
it again). I just have to be more careful about keeping track
of characters, and it means that on my big charts of who is
where and when, I am now also going to have to add things
like, 'left arm blown off one book ago,' 'one eye gone', 'minus
two arms, a leg and a nose' etc. It quite takes all the fun
away!
Another
of the great lows of writing endless series of books is being
tied by what has gone on in previous books. It can be something
as small as wondering what colour someone's eyes were (and
then trying to skim back through 4,000 pages trying to find
the single line where I'd ascribed his or her eyes a particular
shade), to trying to explain convincingly how so and so, killed
in book 1, has now made a reappearance in book 4. None of
my characters ever stay dead.
Nevertheless,
whatever my mistakes, readers always seem to forgive me, so
long as they feel they've got something precious from the
books: a moment of hope, a chance to experience the grand
romance and the mysterious and dangerous quest themselves.
There's one way that has really forced on me the realisation
that my books do affect people ... and that's the number of
babies about that have been named after some of my characters
... and some amazing names. I was amazed to learn that some
months ago a couple had decided to give their newborn son
the name DragonStar ... at least it was as his middlename
and not as his first!
