Category Archives: Craft & Skills

The Outsider’s Perspective

When I’m waiting at the bus stop, I see all kinds of people.  People with skin colours from cocoa to olive, from toffee to porcelain.  People in turbans, in hijabs, in saffron robes.  People wearing crosses, pentacles, Stars of David.  People of all ages, of all income levels, speaking a variety of languages.

When I’m writing, I want to reflect that kind of diversity in my stories.  Unless there’s a specific story-based reason for everyone to look the same, believe the same, and exhibit the same behaviours, I like my fiction to encompass the wide variety of human experience.

Growing up, I read a lot of stories based on Greek and Roman myth, Biblical personages, fairy tales, Norse legends, King Arthur.  The prevalence of these tales made sense in a historical context; these mythologies form the bedrock of modern Western culture.  I also found a few precious collections of different mythologies, containing very different personages:  Nanebozho, the Ojibwe trickster.  Rama, the hero from India.  Fox spirits from China.  I loved these stories.  I’d memorized Cinderella and Snow White.  These anthologies provided me with something new, something different.  As I grew older, I found that readers, and publishers, are increasingly open to stories featuring a wider diversity of characters, based on legends and mythologies from all over the globe.

Full disclosure time.  I’m white, female, of predominantly German ancestry, in a relationship with a man.  But I write about all kinds of people.  People whose life experiences I cannot base on my own; people whose cultures I was not raised in.

I have to be very careful when I write about these people.

Cultural appropriation is the act of taking something from another culture and using it to suit your needs.  To an extent, all cultures in contact mix and borrow from each other.  Suburban youth listen to rap songs about life in the hood; Canadian teenagers read Japanese manga; people all over the world go to movies based on American comic book characters.  There is, however, a tension in these relationships, particularly when a group with power plunders groups with less power, taking their symbols and distorting them, commodifying them, stripping them of their cultural context and selling them.  There is also a tension when people “try to be something they’re not,” particularly when this means they act out of fantasy and idealization rather than a true understanding, or forget their own heritage in the attempt to ape someone else’s.  Appropriation can perpetuate stereotypes (think of how Vodun, aka “voodoo,” struggles to be recognized as a religion), water down symbols (it’s hard to take a powerful symbol seriously when you can buy it as a T-shirt or fridge magnet), and confuse with partial understandings and half-truths.  Borrowing mythology from cultures not my own is tricky.

And yet, to write only about white, heterosexual people of European ancestry is both dishonest (in that it doesn’t reflect the totality of human experience) and dangerous (in that it insinuates these are the only people worth writing about).

The beauty of fiction is that it demands that I, as a writer, develop the ability to see through my characters’ eyes.  I need to know what motivates them, what their dreams are, what their fears are, what their goals are.  Their point of view makes sense to them and I need to understand it in order to figure out what they will do next.  I need to see them both in the context of their cultures, and as individuals, whose behaviours and beliefs may vary a little-or a lot-from their cultures’ norms.

And so I imagine what it would be like to be a man.  Or a lesbian.  Or a Hindu.  Or an Asian woman.  Or someone who lives in the 18th century.  I learn about issues these groups face that I do not, in the hopes that my portrayals are based on reality and not on stereotypes.  I do my best to portray the myths of other cultures with respect for the context in which those myths were created, and with the reverence I would give to the figures of my own childhood.  And I aim to honour, rather than use; to share in, rather than take.

It’s a balancing act, and I can’t please everyone, but when the alternative is to write about a world where everyone is White and European and middle-class and straight, I’ll take some risks, and do some research, to build a world that’s an honest portrayal of the human experience.

 

A Secret History: The Real Stories Behind Literature’s Most Legendary Figures

As you are well aware, excellent reader that you are, every story starts from an idea. Every legend is inspired by something real. Think about some of your own stories and the crazy places from which they originated: a phenomenal supernatural event in space, a news report, or a picture you stumbled upon on the internet when you were [suppose to be] writing. Most of my best story ideas come straight from my dreams.

Let’s take a look at the seeds that eventually grew to be literature’s most legendary heroes and villains.

Protagonists

These popular protagonists underwent a few author-induced identity crises to become some of the most iconic characters in literature.

New Sherlock Holmes by allegator
New Sherlock Holmes by allegator

Sherlock Holmes

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle fashioned his character Sherlock Holmes after an infirmary clerk, Dr. Joseph Bell. Doyle also had other sources including Sir Henry Littlejohn, a lecturer on Forensic Medicine and a Medical Officer, but Bell provided the main trait of figuring out the mystery from small, seemingly innocuous clues. After Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories were published, Dr. Joseph Bell wrote to Doyle claiming, “You are yourself Sherlock Holmes and well you know it.” Perhaps we are reading a bit of Doyle himself in the pages of every Sherlock Holmes story.

Captain Nemo

Captain Nemo on the Nautilus
Captain Nemo on the Nautilus

Captain Nemo (aka Prince Dakkar) was not always of Indian heritage. Jules Verne originally wrote him as a Polish aristocrat whose family was murdered during the January Uprising, in which Poles protested against enlistment in the Imperial Russian Army. Verne’s editor feared that Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea would be banned in Russia – a French ally at the time. Verne kept Nemo’s origins relatively vague for the time period (nemo in Latin means “no one”), although he is now clearly identified as Indian.

Hobbits

Before I jump in here, did you know the decision to publish The Hobbit came down to a 10-year-old boy? Unsure if she should publish the story, Susan Dagnall of George Allen & Unwin Ltd. gave the story to her son to read, and because he enjoyed it, Dagnall decided to move forward with its publication.

The Hobbits by Qwertee.com
The Hobbits by Qwertee.com

Although he had been writing about goblins and developing languages for years before he began writing about Hobbits, Tolkien suspected his idea for hobbits came from The Marvelous Land of Snergs by Edward Wyke Smith. Tolkien wrote that the Snergs were “a race of people only slightly taller than the average table but broad in the shoulders and have the strength of ten men.” He also noted that Sinclair Lewis’ character Babbitt had a homebody-like nature, which was also an influence.

Tolkien originally wrote Aragorn, or Strider, as a hobbit.  Imagine Frodo’s first encounter with the mysterious hobbit Strider in the Prancing Pony! Doesn’t quite have the same effect, does it?

 

 

Antagonists

Some of literature’s more legendary antagonists were created from the most obvious and peculiar places.

Dracula

Bela Lugosi in the 1931 Dracula
Bela Lugosi in the 1931 Dracula

The name alone triggers shivers down the spine. It may be no surprise to you that Dracula originated from the Romanian word dracul, which means “the dragon’ or “the devil’.

As Bram Stoker dug into Wallachian history, he happened across Prince Vlad III, or Vlad the Impaler.  Known for his brutality by impaling his enemies, it’s estimated that Vlad killed nearly 10,000 people.

Vlad’s patronymic name was Dracula, passed down from his father Vlad II Dracul, a member of The Order of the Dragon. These knights were tasked with protecting Christianity in Eastern Europe.

The cover of John Gardner's book Grendel
The cover of John Gardner’s book Grendel

Grendel

In the Scandinavian epic Beowulf, the monster Grendel terrorizes a mead hall and slaughters those poor souls who happened to be drinking inside of it. The author describes Grendel as a grotesque creature descended from the race of Cain (who was the first murderer according to the Bible). Scholars debate the nature of Grendel – was he monster or humanoid? Some scholars even propose that Grendel represented enemies of the Geats, or even more simply, an outcast.

Moby-Dick

Moby-Dick sans barnacles
Moby-Dick sans barnacles

An enormous, albino sperm whale covered in barnacles that attacked whaling ships in the early 1800’s served as the inspiration for Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick.

Jeremiah Reynolds, an explorer in that time and who was thought to have inspired the character Captain Ahab, wrote of the whale Mocha Dick, describing how its attacks on ships appeared premeditated. It was rumored that Mocha Dick had around 20 harpoons in his back from the 100 or more encounters it had with whaling ships that sailed near the Chilean island Mocha.

 

 

The saying goes that legends are born, not made. But, as evidenced above, they certainly can be made – created from an idea half the size of a man, or as terrifying as a bloodthirsty albino whale.

Writing in Our World Instead of Another

A guest post by Michael A. Rothman.

For a fantasy writer, it’s very convenient to create your own world – because you follow the rules that you set. Much like the famous Twilight Zone saying, you control the horizontal and vertical.

However, what if you want to embark on a journey that isn’t quite set in the mundane world you’re familiar with, yet you might be exploring some of our world’s mysticism? Things like numerology, religion, and legends are all fodder for creative authors to take advantage of.

Why would someone choose to dive into what is essentially someone else’s world? Use its characters and storylines?

PartingSea

The answer is rather simple – people are already familiar with the beliefs of certain religions. That being said, if your story relates in some way to something familiar, you’ll have a premade audience that will instantly relate in some fashion to your work. Think about it. How many people are familiar with the parting of a particular sea, or the turning of water into wine?

WaterToWine

These images are only the beginning, consider other concepts that have been leveraged such as fortunetelling or numerology. In the case of numerology, Dan Brown in the oft-cited bestseller, The Da Vinci Code, uses numeric sequences as clues. He poses many what-if’s that people could go ahead and investigate on their own.

In fact, I just recently finished a manuscript that leverages numerological concepts that follow both a religious and numerological theme. The earliest forms of the bible were written in Aramaic (same lettering system as Hebrew). From this, a numbering system that assigned numbers to letters and words was formed and is oftentimes referred to as gematria. Many studies associated with the bible and its hidden meanings use gematria as a form of numerology. An example of such a thing would be where I use an upcoming villain’s name as a code. His name is Bedsem. It’s a play on words in another language, but suffice it to say that I’ve used the gematria system to associate a numeric value to it. One that people might recognize with a simple illustration.

Bedsem

Yes, I’m guilty as charged. I’ve crossed several genres of religion and “sciences” to associated my villain’s name with what is oftentimes posed as the ultimate villain.

Consider that with numerology, you have the ability to pose many “what if” type of questions to the reader. Take certain “coincidences” in the world and make them go “hmm”.

A word of caution, though. Some people might take offense.

Let’s face it, as authors, we will inevitably write something that people will take offense with. I recall having a scene in one of my earlier books where I had two twelve-year-olds holding hands when one of them decides to give the other a kiss on the cheek.

Wholesome, right? Not a big deal, you’d think?

Well 99% of the responses came back on stating how refreshing and wholesome the book was and how nice it was to have something that was “safe” for the kids to read, yet was an epic fantasy. I only mention this because I got one or two comments that inevitably crucified me (ok, maybe poor choice of words considering context) because I was treating kids as sexual objects who shouldn’t look at each other that way. And to think most people don’t believe we live in a puritanical society. Hah!

When you begin to leverage certain things that people might consider a pseudo-science, you might not get too many critics – unless you’ve botched up your facts. However, once you dive into religion or certain cultural affectation or historical references, that’s when the people who take offense can most certainly come out.

For instance, Salman Rusdie wrote a book called The Satanic Verses. It won many prizes and was critically acclaimed by the literary establishment. All good things. Good until such time as some very conservative followers of a particular religion took great offense. Since the book does touch on one of the prophets from this religion, there were those in the conservative community that didn’t appreciate the way their prophet had been characterized. Given this belief that their religion was being assaulted, there were calls for the author to be killed.

Needless to say, this is the extreme of such possibilities – but when you leverage the topic of religion, it needs to be with both eyes open. Understand how others would appreciate your work or possibly misunderstand your intent.

I’ve spent years informally studying religion, numerology, and related topics – so I’ve been cautious about introducing these things. Nonetheless, these are tools in an author’s toolbox that are easy to deploy, and they can be a powerful draw to an audience that is a match for your subject matter.

***

Mike has had a long career as an engineer and has well over 200 issued patents under his name spanning all topics across the technology spectrum. He’s traveled extensively and has been stationed in many different locations across the world. In the last fifteen years or so, much of his writing has been relegated to technical books and technical magazine articles.

It was only a handful of years ago that his foray into epic fantasy started, but Mike is a pretty quick study. He’s completed a trilogy, has a prequel under consideration with editors, and is actively working on another series.

In the meantime, if you want to see his ramblings, he lurks in the following social media portals: Twitter – @MichaelARothman, Facebook, his blog, and his books.

 

From the Ground Up: Milieu Shaping Myths

The need for a set of mythology is part of the human condition.  Much about our world frightens us or makes us feel very, very small and insignificant.  You can see this tendency when we look at a mother comforting her children, who are often the most honest with their fears.  Thunder and lightening?  That isn’t frightening little one.  It’s just Thor using Mjölnir to protect us from the Ice Giants.  Something mysterious and frightening is now an ally, a protector.  If only I can blame Loki for all the socks that go missing in the wash.  As always, I ask the question: as writers, how can we use mythology to make our works better?  Let’s take a simple origin story for a city-state and work through the implications together, shall we?

 

“The city of Jesquat has not always been the mightiest principality of the Tabbet Empire.  No, young ones, before the bustling market squares and efficient ports, noble halls of learning and mighty walls came to be, the land we now stand upon was wild and untamed.  Barbarians roamed our lands and though the thousand eyes of the One God gazed down each night, though there was no one to worship.

Then, there came the First peoples.  They were mighty and experienced seamen, long from home and succor, brave and strong.  When the demons of storm and sea sought to destroy them, they fought back valiantly, but inevitably, few survived and their vessel was lost.  For three nights, the One God’s thousand eyes watched the Firsts as many of their number struggled to hold off the final dawn.  By the third day, the former crew had fractured, deprived of unity and direction as the dawn claimed their captain.  Lacking the tools and skills to repair the wreckage of their craft, plagued with memories and longing for home, many risked the trek through the wild frontier.  Of those that remained, only three names have survived to be whispered today.

Bae’ren lead.  Captain’s seneschal and daughter of the Primaka of her homeland, she had been trained from birth to be a leader to her people.  Though she had the authority and right to demand the service of departed-lost, she let them to their wanderings.  Bae’ren knew that those who left the sea were doomed to death and despair, but she was wise and benevolent and with heavy conscience let the departed-lost chart their own trek.  Bae’ren became the first Primaka of our people.

Aben’rah made.  Ship’s carpenter and quartermaster, his hands were nearly as clever as his tongue.  Through hard work and ingenuity, he made a life for the Firsts in the wild and unforgiving land.  Aben’rah knew that if the Firsts were to survive, it would be by their sweat and blood, so with dedication and fervor he taught his crafts.  Aben’rah became the first Lord Builder of our people.

Oman’tak defended.  Ship’s guardian and first spear, he fought for the Firsts in the name of the One God.  Though injured in the destruction of his charge, the sharpness of his will and the trueness spirit remained, and he safeguarded the Firsts from dangers of the wild and wildmen.  He knew that his spear alone was insufficient to maintain the lives of the Firsts, so he trained any who would learn.  He became the first Guardian-General of our people.

And so, under the guidance and succor of the First Three, our people thrived and grew, built and prospered, were safe guarded and established an empire.”

 

So, let’s start thinking aloud.  I like to start with history and politics as it allows me to put up the skeleton of the culture.  In this case, I would say that the people of Jesquat likely claim origins from a group of seafarers who were stranded where the city stands.  As myth, especially origin myth, usually only resembles history, it is unlikely that the series of events were exactly as plotted in the story.  For example, it is unlikely that the actual names have remained intact over the centuries since the founding of Jesquat.  Instead, I’d establish that Jesquat is ruled by a triumvirate, the Primaka, the Lord Builder and the Guardian-General, with prestige in that order.  Together, they would be called the “First Three,” like they were in the legend.  The myth also mentions that Jesquat is a principality in an empire, that it was the first town in the area and that the empire expanded from Jesquat.  This would mean that Primaka would be effectively equivalent to a renaissance Italian prince, so I could draw inspiration from those courts in regard to future world building.  Also, the Primaka is woman in the legend, so is this position traditionally female?  Likewise, are the Lord Builder and Guardian-General both traditionally masculine roles?

Next, I like to look to religion.  The myth mentions a “One God” whose eyes are the stars.  If the people of Jesquat maintained a sea faring lifestyle, then this would make sense as navigation could be easiest at night.  I could then tie in religious significance to economics and travel.  There is already established significance tying death to the dawn, so is birth tied to dusk?  What is the mythological significance to daylight?  Topics I will have to examine in greater detail.  The “Firsts” are held in high regard according to the myth, so is there some aspect of ancestor worship amongst the Jesquati?  If so, do spirits of significant people become one of the stars?  Does the religion have a centralized leadership or is it family by family?

Now, looking at economics and immigration, as the myth’s introduction mentions “bustling market squares and efficient ports,” and Jesquat is mentioned to be a principality, so I would make Jesquat to be a trade city.  Local food would be grown outside the walls by small farming communities and then traded at market for necessities they cannot make.  Jesquat is a walled city according to the myth, so either there is no expansion beyond the walls, in which case, immigration is relatively low and real-estate is at a premium, or there has been expansion beyond the walls and the upper class and very wealthy live inside the walls.  I personally favor the second as it allows for more cultural variation within the city itself which will make it easier to make the milieu rounder.

Finally, I would mine this myth for linguistic and other miscellaneous cultural trends.  When I structured the myth, I was imagining a grandfather passing down the knowledge to a brood of grandchildren.  It made sense, then, for the myth to take the structure of an oral tradition with the repetition of paired descriptors and the structuring of paragraphs three, four and five from a common template.  For a trade city to be successful on an empire-scale, there must be some form of written language or accounting, but universal literacy isn’t necessarily a requirement.  So then, are performance arts such as public theater or professional bards a form of cultural entertainment and dissemination of knowledge?  How common are books, and what are the literacy rates amongst different levels of the populace?

Also, I’d take a look at the names in the myth.  All three names are compound names.  This could be a cultural trend, but I like the idea of using suffixes to distinguish prestige, so common names would be one or two syllables with no suffix.  The Primaka would take the suffix “ren, the Lord Builder “rah and the Guardian-General “tak.  I could then structure hierarchies of suffixes that are subordinate to “ren, “rah and “tak but linguistically similar amongst their own population.  I would then have to create additional hierarchies as honorifics amongst the various social classes (such as merchants or within families).  Also, the masculine names mentioned in the myth have a vowel-consonant-vowel-consonant pairing structure, allowing me to develop a grouping of “traditional” Jesquati names.  The feminine names would likely start with consonants but have fewer restrictions than the masculine names based on the sample from the myth.

The origin myth I developed for Jesquat resulted in more questions than answers, but it gave me places to start asking those questions in the development of my milieu.  By creating several other myths or histories that tie into the origin myth of the Firsts, I would be able to start pinning down more and more details from which the milieu could be built.  I do not start all milieus this way, but it is often an entertaining way to begin and has helped me overcome writer’s block.  Turning back myth and legend is a way to begin, whether it be by the tales of a culture long gone and remembered mostly for their mythology, or a mythology created by an author to enhance milieu.