Tag: Puppet Masters

The Puppet Masters (#5 – We, the Failures)

failure_by_anokazue-d4w47o2My last couple of weeks have been delegated to conventions.  First came WorldCon (MidAmericon II) in Kansas City, and then Pax West in Seattle.  While the latter is a predominantly video-game themed convention, it is not without many other elements of fandom.  Among the many panels, tournaments, and exhibitions were a few outliers, such as the indeterminate hour occupied by a panel simply titled “An evening with Patrick Rothfuss.”

Any who know me are familiar with my love for this author in all of his quirky variables. This was my third time seeing him live and he simply never becomes boring.  If you ever get the chance, please dedicate some time from your day to be in his company.  You do not even need to know who he is in order to enjoy yourself.  You can hold me to that claim.

To the point, there was one rabbit hole Rothfuss descended during his panel which caught my attention more than anything else.  I cannot remember what exactly prompted this discussion, but it was during a Q&A.  The subject was about the perception of writing as a hobby versus writing as a profession, and how there is an unfairly strict expectation attached to the relationship between the two.

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The Great, Bearded Badger, Patrick Rothfuss.

Paraphrasing his words: “Writing is really unfair, because it’s the only hobby where, if you don’t make it professionally, you are seen as a failure in the public eye.  Never do you see somebody playing basketball and think they are a loser because they aren’t in the NBA.  Never do you see somebody gardening and think, well, if they aren’t on Home & Gardening, then they clearly didn’t make it.  The gardener is allowed to enjoy gardening because it gives them satisfaction and joy.  But god forbid, if you’re a writer and haven’t published anything, then you’ve wasted your time.”

There is a titanic burden placed on writers (and most creative arts, really) to become published or publically recognized.  Naturally, this is not going to be a common end for most who aspire for it, as not everyone who writes (read: many, many people) will become professionals at the craft.  Why are those people then labelled as failures, when they are doing something they love?  Now of course, if the writer has a deliberate goal of reaching publication and do not reach it, at this point they might be considered having failed at least in that regard.  But writing should not be, as a primary approach, treated like a business.  This isn’t to say it can’t be a business, only that it shouldn’t be business first, creative endeavor second.

I’ve never felt like I was wasting time in my writing.  Even if I never get published, writing has afforded me an outlet for thoughts, emotions and stress which I haven’t been able to get out by any other means.  For that alone, the journey has been worth it.  I do aspire to reach publication one day, for at least one book, but I won’t consider myself a failure if I don’t make a career out of it.  I’ll still continue to write, because I love it.  I may not always like it, per se, but I’ll always love it.

So please, if you write, or paint, or craft in any way that is seen by others as following in a similar social stigma, do not lose heart.  Even if your story never sees the public spotlight, do not believe yourself a failure.  As a whole, we struggle enough with depression and anxiety and self-deprecation as is, so we needn’t pile onto the weapons against us.  To do so is disrespectful to the art, toxic to your soul, and above all, a lie.

God bless and take care.

(If you want to check out Patrick Rothfuss, I suggest beginning with “The Name of the Wind,” the first in a projected series of three novels.  Both it and it’s sequel, “The Wise Man’s Fear,” may be found on Amazon.)

Image provided by Anokazue from Deviantart.
http://www.deviantart.com/art/Failure-295808978

The Puppet Masters (#4 Magic & Sanderson’s Laws)

The-Well-of-AscensionBrandon Sanderson has been bunkered down on the frontlines of the contemporary fantasy and science fiction industry over a decade now.  Between his acclaimed Mistborn and Stormlight Archives series, as well as being selected to complete the late Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time, Sanderson has consistently proven his ability to create powerful tales of magic and wonder. While Sanderson has been teaching university-level courses on writing contemplative fiction for years now (at BYU, his alma mater), there is one facet of his process which he talks about more than most else.  It is his forte, both self-proclaimed and evidenced by the opinions of fans and critics alike: magic systems.

Sanderson’s ability to build a world is superb, and his utilitarian approach to magic is redefining crowd expectations for the fantasy genre. I should clarify before we continue, ‘magic system’ is a universally accepted, catch-all term for nearly any supernatural or super-scientific element within a story.  A ‘magic system’ is not exclusively about ‘magic.’ Advanced technology, superpowers, and various other forms of otherworldly abilities can all fall under ‘magic’ in this sense, as they are things which transcend natural human power.

Please keep that in mind as we continue.  In addition, many of Sanderson’s lectures can be viewed online. Here is a link to the one which contains most of what we will be discussing.

(Note: Brandon is aware that the names of these laws sound pretentious. They were originally for his own reference and when people started asking him about his rules for making magic, the names just kind of stuck.  It’s kind of an ongoing joke now.)

Sanderson’s First Law:

“Your ability to solve problems with magic in a satisfying way is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic.”

Foreshadowing is always important.  Regarding the first law, even more so. If you are going to have a harder magic system (which is to say, one with more rules and limitations), it is important you help the reader understand the parameters of the magic before you start doing crazy things with it. Those crazy things need to be explainable within the context of your magic’s boundaries. If a character has the superhuman ability to lift a maximum of one-thousand pounds and no more, you can’t have them stop a bullet train when it’s about to hit somebody.  The momentum generated by a bullet train would be too great for that limitation to deal with. That breaks the rules of your own magic system and is thus an unsatisfying answer to the problem.

That word ‘satisfying’ is important.  Not only must you be consistent with the science and boundaries of your magic, but you should always strive to be imaginative, too.  There is rarely only one way to solve any given problem.  Be mindful of how your magic can interact with the environment and other characters involved, if any.

Sanderson’s Second Law:

“Flaws are more interesting than powers.”

We aren’t talking about character flaws, but flaws in the magic system itself.  Rather, the specifics of the boundaries and limitations.  Do you have a character who can summon an ancient fire beast to fight at their side?  That’s cool…but what’s the catch?  The catch is usually the best part.  A simple and common answer is that it drains the summoner of energy or vitality, but there are others with more unique answers.

Ask: what is the cost?  Is it economic? Moral? Emotional? Mental?

The author Brent Weeks has a specific element in one of his magic systems which allows for characters to gain immortality. However, and the main character learns this tidbit of information a little too late, but every time you die, your resurrection costs the life of one of the people you love the most.  Or in the Japanese manga, Naruto, the main character has access to a tremendous well of inner power that allows him to conquer most obtacles…but at the cost of going into a berserker-state, breaking down his mind, tearing apart his body, and risking harm to anyone nearby regardless of whether they’re friend or foe.  Such a power as that is not one you want to throw around without immense consideration.

Is the magic needed for travel? Is it needed to keep society moving? If possible, try to make the magic imperative to life in more ways than as a means to destruction.  Far too many series are victim to that tendency.

Also, these boundaries are obviously under your complete jurisdiction, but unless you are going for a certain tone, it’s wise not to go too far off the deep end.  Teleportation is cool, but it’s kind of weird if you can only teleport when standing on one foot.  You can turn into an animal only when you have a marble in your mouth? Saying Hitler’s name three times allows you to turn invisible?

Please don’t be too weird.  Stuff like that is funny for only a brief time and quickly grows old.

Sanderson’s Third Law

“Go deeper into magic, instead of wider.”

Here’s a problem many superhero stories such as X-men fall into.  There are so many powers that none of them get any particular attention, at least not in a timely manner.  Hollywood and amateur writers alike think it is more interesting to have this grandiose arsenal of neat abilities in the cast of characters, but they keep the utility of all these abilities at surface-level.  They have fallen into the misconception that more means better.

But if Sanderson’s success stands for anything, it’s that more certainly does not always mean better.

Sanderson’s 0th Law

“Always err on the side of awesome.”

The name of this one is kind of a trade joke, but the premise is quite simple.  Sure, the boundaries and rules can allow for creativity in your writing and story-crafting, but in the end this is science-fiction and fantasy.  The granddaddy of all laws is that whatever you do, make it cool.  We are operating within a field of writing that has greater access to the manipulation of the universe than any other genre.  If you have an awesome idea and can build your system around that idea to make it feasible, then by all means, make it work.  Don’t force something that isn’t there, but if it’s possible, do your best to bring that awesomeness to life on the page.  You’ll love it, and the readers will probably be just as awed as you were when the idea first crossed your mind.

The Puppet Masters (#2 – Judgment)

letter_in_the_snow_by_loundraw-d8gvv6z“Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.” — Neil Gaiman

Well, I think we can end the piece there.  It came from Neil Gaiman.  That’s about all you need.

They cover this at length on the Writing Excuses podcast, this concept King Gaiman is talking about.  It’s mostly a philosophy on approaching peer feedback, especially in writing groups.  You know, those turbulent things.  If you share a draft/manuscript with your peers, make sure to pay close attention to how they feel about certain scenes, characters, or developments.  They are emulating your audience, after all, so their opinions are important if you wish to cultivate a wholesome and successful story.  When they tell you something is wrong, they are speaking from the gut, and the gut is hardly ever incorrect in these situations.  But they are not the author, they are not you and thus do not best understand the story as a whole.  Once they begin to provide specific advice, tread with caution.  If it is from one who is far more travelled in the craft than yourself, then it might be worth your attention, but do not let every passing comment or opinion mold your story.  People will want different things from what they consume, do not form your story to fit the exact requirements of their subjective taste.

It’s your story.  Love it and nourish it, so others may love it, too.  Just don’t let them steer you around, because they probably don’t know better than you about your universe and characters.  In turn, don’t reverse the role as that would only perpetuate the problem.

Again, I must reiterate.  This is Neil Gaiman.  The man knows what he’s talking about.

 

(Photo credit to Loundraw from Deviantart.)

The Puppet Masters (#1 – Test Your Might)

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“The ability of writers to imagine what is not the self, to familiarize the strange and mystify the familiar, is the test of their power.” – Toni Morrison

I am not going to step into this article and pretend like I know T. Morrison at length.  I am not even going to pretend like I know her very much at all.  If ever I have cracked open one of her stories, I can’t recall it now.

However, what I do know is she thought deeply about the status of socioeconomic and racial conditions in America, the marvel of children, as well as how to cast words in their own beautiful economy.

What I love most about Morrison’s above statement is that it equates the shape and extent of your imagination directly with a display of power.  Doing so suggests a nature of potential impact which writing can possess.  To be able to wield words in new, interesting, and creative ways is both a measure of skill and evidence that we can develop further ‘power’ by growing alongside our craft.  If a story or idea is too intimidating, we can rise to the challenge.

The juxtaposition of the relationship between foreign and familiar shows Morrison has keen understanding of how words can influence ideas.  In much the same way as words can make one second last ten pages or a millennia last one sentence, the way we choose to fill in the minds of our readers regarding the subject is completely within our hands.

 

(Image credit to Pajunen on Deviantart.)