Tag Archives: Fiction

Thought of the Week: Rules in Fiction

A writing friend of mine recently shared a Facebook post about sticking to the rules in writing. I tried to share it but for some reason it wouldn’t let me, so I thought I’d write a short blog post about it instead.

The gist of the post was that in fiction, it’s important that the characters and situations abide by whatever rules are set up in the first place. Not necessarily the rules of the real world – if that were so, pretty much all fantasy would be out the window. Rather, each world that each author creates must have its rules that the characters must be bound to – whether they be rules of physics, of etiquette, or culture. Fiction is rife with examples of this, and the reason is simple: in a world where anything is possible, everything becomes mundane. We don’t want our characters to suddenly have superhuman powers because it’s convenient at that point in the story; we don’t want our spaceships to just instantly be somewhere else because it avoids the tedium of the journey.

Star Trek (a favorite of mine) is a wonderful example. From The Next Generation onward, they hired scientific consultants to make sure that the ideas they had obeyed – to an extent – the real-world rules of physics. Warp drive is one of them. If a spaceship could simply go as fast as it needed to, there’d be no fun in the adventure of getting there. Instead, they borrowed from Einstein and simply pushed the limits of the speed of light a little bit further. It turns out that the reason a ship can’t travel past warp 10 is because it would require an infinite amount of energy to do so. We aren’t bound by technology – we’re bound by the rules of the world around us.

Harry Potter is another good example. One would think that in a world of spells, curses and magic that pretty much anything could be possible. We can levitate objects, we can transform into cats, we can have light whenever we want because it’s convenient to do so – except, you have to be extremely skilled to be able to do such things. Wizards and witches are bound by the limitations of their own capabilities; Harry and his friends can’t do everything they want to, because they have yet to learn how. Even the most powerful of wizards can’t do anything, because some are better than others at various aspects of the wizarding world. Dumbledore can’t turn into a dog; McGonagall can’t predict the future (though of course, neither can Trelawney). Harry can’t stop Snape invading his mind, at least at first. (Truth be told, I haven’t read past The Order of the Phoenix, so forgive me if some of this is wrong).

From my musical background, I’m reminded of something the great Russian composer Shostakovich (I think) once said:

“The more I restrict myself in my writing, the better my music becomes.”

Alright, it’s a paraphrase and it might be from a different composer, but the point is the same. Restrict yourself as much as you can, and your writing will be the better for it.

~

Featured image from http://www.deviantart.com/morelikethis/127027387?view_mode=2.

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The Redemption of Erâth: Book 2, Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Elỳn

There was no calming these monstrous beasts with a gesture or thought, but as Brandyé braced for death there was suddenly a great flash of light from the trees, and as one the fierundé turned to look at its provenance. Brandyé thought perhaps it was a renewed storm, lightning struck once again, but there was no thunder – only silence.

And then a second great flash came, and one of the fierundé howled in pain, and Brandyé saw an arrow pierce its side, and his eyes widened as they were in an instant beset by people whose existence he could not fathom. From the woods leapt suddenly a dozen folk dressed in robes of purest white, and it seemed to him almost that they shone with a light of their own. Each bore with them a bow, and with each arrow they loosed came another flash, and another, until the very woods seemed alight with a glow brighter than day.

The fierundé turned now, enraged, and fell upon their attackers. With a fearlessness Brandyé could not imagine these newcomers stood their ground, and as the beasts came at them they laid down their bows and drew forth long, curved blades, silver and shining, and they were more than a match for the fangs and claws of the fierundé. For an eternal minute there was only the sound of growls, roars and howls as the fierundé were cut apart, and when it was over four of their number lay dead on the ground, and the remaining three had bolted into the trees.

With hardly a pause, several of their rescuers disappeared into the woods again, and to his astonishment Brandyé learned later that they had in fact hunted down and destroyed the remaining fierundé. Such bravery he had never known, and though they lacked armor he saw that these were soldiers more than any iron-clad constabulary of the Fortunaé, and perhaps more so even than the Cosari. Breathless, Brandyé remained upon his knees and was amazed, for of these people he had not reckoned the ability to do battle, and do it well.

For these were people of a kind far removed from the world he knew; they were a people of dreams, of dismal landscapes far away and long ago. From their dress and manner to the wholesome glow of their skin, he knew their saviors for what they were: Illuèn. It was impossible, of course – as his grandfather had said, as even Ermèn had spoken, the Illuèn, and all races of the ancient world, were either long since gone or never existed at all. He had begun to forget the old dreams he had had of them, of the woman in black and her companions of light, yet here they stood before him, now.

One of them, a leader perhaps, spoke to the others, and in her words Brandyé recognized the language of old: “[Aid his friend; he may die.]” At her commands several of the others bent to Elven, surrounding him so that Brandyé could see little of his friend. He was about to call out to them, ask them when they intended, when the one who had spoken turned to face him, and as he looked upon her face wholly now for the first time his mind reeled, for it was her, the very same that had stood with Schaera and the company of Illuèn and Namirèn at the foot of the broken bridge.

“It…it cannot be.”

And then Elỳn, the one who it could not be, knelt on the ground before him and grasped his shoulders. “[It is you who cannot be.] How is this possible?” She reached to touch his face, and he felt warmth and wonder pass into him. “You are ill,” she said.

Brandyé shook his head. “My friend is ill.”

“He is injured – you are ill. You have…” and she seemed struggle for the word. “Fever.”

And it was only then that Brandyé allowed himself to feel the sickness that had been plaguing him for days, and suddenly a great weakness overcame him and he swayed on his knees. “I had not noticed…” he muttered.

Elỳn gestured to her companions, and two of them came now to Brandyé and lifted him to his feet. “Come,” she said. “You are safe now. You will be well again.”

And despite the insanity of all that had occurred, despite the impossibility of this woman from his dreams being here before him, these words were all Brandyé needed to hear, and he allowed himself to fall into the arms of her companions, and knew nothing more for some while. […]

Read the complete chapter here.

No Thought of the Week this Week

Well hey there,

I just wanted to touch base and apologize for there not being a Thought of the Week this week. I was deathly ill last week (I exaggerate only slightly), and have been working feverishly (no pun intended) on The Redemption of Erâth: Exile. The good news is that Chapter 10 is now finished, and Chapter 11 is well on its way. I managed to write another 1,000 words last night (actually in the middle of the night – I woke up at 3:00 AM and couldn’t get back to sleep).

For now I really want to concentrate on getting back up to speed with this second book; the first book is still in a kind of editing limbo, for which I apologize again; I really had hoped to have it published and available by now. I’m still looking into getting it professionally edited, and am waiting for a few contacts to get back to me; after that, I think I’m just going to call it quits and send off the damn manuscript. At this point I kind of don’t want to see it again!

So bear with me, and I’ll return with a thoughtful thought next week – promise!

Thanks!

~

Satis 2013