The Power of Generational Storytelling
By Vaughn Roycroft | August 22, 2022 |
As I hurtle toward the publication of my debut, it struck me the other day that I’ve spent over a decade crafting an elaborate 1,500+ page setup. It’s true. In 2011, after two years of collecting rejections for my first epic fantasy story, I convinced myself that the only thing keeping me from a publishing deal was that my story lacked an engaging opening (reader, this was not the only thing). I must have tried two dozen new openings before I had the not-so-original idea that led to the following ten years, and ultimately to this moment.
I’m not sure which came first, my interest in a deeper exploration of the backstory of the deceased father of my protagonist brothers, or the idea that his story could become the new entry point into my story-world. Whether it was the publishing chicken or the storytelling egg that came first, I embarked on what I then supposed would be a quick and easy novella. About a year later, I had a 180K word shitty first draft about the entire life of not just the father of the brothers, but also of the guardian who became the love of his life and the mother of another key player in Epic #1. The rest, as they say, is history—in this case, quite literally.
Yep, I stumbled into becoming a generational storyteller. In hindsight, I consider it a fortuitous stumble. In the years since that shitty first draft, I’ve sought to shape a more meaningful trilogy from the epic tale of the first generation, and I look forward to moving back, into the future of book four, to reengage with the next generation. Let’s take a deeper look at the phenomenon of generational storytelling, shall we? Whether you’ve done any generational storytelling or not, you might discover an angle you’d like to utilize in future works.
Beyond Lineage
Hidden lineage reveals are certainly nothing new to epic SFF. I mean, “Luke, I am your father,” anyone? “This… is Isildur’s heir?” also springs to mind. There have been scores of stories in which we learn something about the ancestry of characters that was previously veiled, and I’ve enjoyed many of them. I’ve used the trope myself, in a less prominent fashion. But I’m talking about something more.
I just finished reading Jade Legacy, which is book three of The Green Bone Saga by Fonda Lee (I’m still recovering, but I think I’ll be all right, thanks). The series is amazing, full of magic and martial arts, set in a mafia-style empire, but at its core, the story is a family saga. We meet the generation of the primary characters as they come of age and step into leadership roles, struggling to live up to expectations born of their famous sires, who decades earlier became insurgents to thrust off the yoke of a despotic foreign occupation. The success and ascendance of those sires, known as Green Bone warriors, comes primarily through their unique (but costly) ability to utilize a magical and empowering element (jade) found only on their home island.
I don’t want to give away any spoilers (because you absolutely should read this trilogy!), but in book three I quickly became enthralled by the progeny—the fourth generation to appear in the saga—as they too come of age. It’s just so fascinating to consider which gifts and limitations they were born with, what they learned, and how each of them reacts so differently to their generational circumstance. The parents’ response to their children is just as fascinating. The genius is in coming to feel as though you’ve known these characters almost all of their lives. I’m convinced that the generational aspect took the series to another level of brilliance. [On a separate but related note, I have never gasped aloud while reading as often as I did during this series.]
The Green Bone Saga made me more fully appreciate the power of generational storytelling, but in hindsight I’ve always loved it. I can see that it plays a big role in my love of Robin Hobb’s The Realm of the Elderlings, and more recently in Joe Abercrombie’s Age of Madness Trilogy. Oh, and no list of generational favorites would be complete without the Sevenwaters series, by WU’s own Juliet Marillier. To name a few.
The Benefits of Blood
Hindsight has provided me with another clue as to how long I’ve been intrigued by generational storytelling: the title of my very first novel—The Bonds of Blood. That choice, made about fifteen years ago, reflects how early on I recognized that my first story was rooted in the assumptions, expectations, and obligations of having been born to a famous (or infamous) but deceased parent. If I do say so, the very nature of the generational tie provided fertile soil for storytelling.
But leveraging inner conflict with the weight of expectation is far from the only potential benefit of generational storytelling. The list includes (but is not limited to):
*The opportunity to explore nature versus nurture—Inherited traits make for fine story fodder, and we mustn’t forget that those traits can be negative ones as well as positive. But there are also various ways to explore how characters’ upbringing makes them different, distinct from their sires. Contrasting siblings can provide a delicious additional dimension.
*Enhanced conflicts—Who hasn’t had a conflict with a family member? Who hasn’t been stunned by how swiftly such a conflict can escalate? Who hasn’t resented being judged by an elder? Who hasn’t been disappointed by a younger family member? Who else is able to get in your head, or under your skin, like a family member? If you’ve lived your life free of family conflict, and have no idea what I’m talking about, consider yourself lucky and please don’t rub it in.
*Elevated stakes—Using Fonda Lee’s Green Bone Saga as my example, let me assure you that growing very familiar with the parents and the fraught nature of a story-world makes readers exponentially more concerned with what happens to their offspring, or what will come of their offspring should something happen to the parents. I have rarely felt more invested in the outcome of a series, and I’m sure that the generational aspect provided a solid foundation for my empathy and fondness.
*The sweep of history—Have you ever watched Finding Your Roots on PBS? Ever notice how every guest is swept up in the turnings of history? Do you get swept up with them? (I do!) Do you think getting such a personal perspective on past events provides us with a new level of understanding and appreciation? A generational facet can offer just that to your story. It’s the ultimate backstory enhancement.
*A lost societal element—Here in youth-obsessed America, most of us have never lived with our family’s elders, not like our ancestors did. Or indeed, as many societies around the globe still do today. Many of us have little contact with our grandsires. I can’t tell you how many funerals I’ve attended where the younger members of the family allude to the fact that they hardly knew the deceased. I think it’s a shame. There’s so much elders have to give, not just in wisdom but in guidance and support. They can uniquely illuminate where we come from and how that makes us who we are–illumination that many of us lack. We can provide those things to our characters through generational storytelling.
“Then It’s a Gift…”
Have you ever seen the 1965 film version of Doctor Zhivago? Do you remember the final scene? (If not, spoiler warning for a 57 year old film, I guess.) In the scene, Yuri Zhivago’s half-brother Yevgraf (played by Alec Guinness) is meeting a young lady named Tanya. He believes he’s found the daughter of his deceased brother and Lara, the love of Yuri’s life, lost to the chaos of Russian history. Yevgraf tries to convince Tanya to allow him into her life, but she remains skeptical, resistant. As she’s leaving him on the arm of her partner, she slings a string instrument over her shoulder.
Yevgraf calls after her: “Tanya! Can you play the balalaika?”
Tanya’s partner: “Can she play? She’s an artist!”
Yevgraf: “An artist? Who taught you?”
The partner: “No one taught her.”
Yevgraf: “Ah. Then it’s a gift.”
Looking back, I’m sort of surprised my parents allowed me to watch this film when I was as young as I was the first time (maybe 9 or 10). But I clearly recall how moved I was by that final scene. It still gets me. Why do I long for Tanya to be Yuri’s and Lara’s child? How could it be gratifying to witness the finding of a girl who was orphaned, traumatically abandoned by the man she thought to be her real father in the heat of war? Why was I left feeling sort of smug and knowing—and fulfilled!—to learn that Tanya seems to have been magically endowed with the skill to play the very instrument that Yuri’s mother played so beautifully? All after such a dark and tragic tale?
I guess my fascination with generational storytelling started early.
Why Me? Why Not Us?
As many of you know, I’ve been working in my story-world for a long time now. I know the names of the parents, and even grandparents, of dozens of my primary characters. I’ve come to know their family histories better than I know my own. It begs the question: why should I, an aging, childless writer, who barely knew three of his grandparents and never met the fourth, be so enthralled? Why do I feel compelled to tell this sweeping intergenerational set of stories? For that matter, why are humans so naturally inclined to sacrifice so much, to struggle and persevere to ensure the betterment of our progeny? Is it merely instinctual–a matter of survival of the species? Or might it be that it feels as though passing along a part of ourselves in those who follow is our way of cheating death?
Maybe it’s just that. Perhaps I feel compelled because I never had children, and didn’t get a chance to know my family sires. Maybe this is my way of seeking to cheat death, by hoping to create the legacy I failed to leave in the form of offspring. Or maybe I’m just seeking to better understand love, which I feel is central to the human experience. Maybe I sense that the love shared by parents and their children is an elemental version of the love I strive to grasp well enough to convey through story.
Maybe, as did Yuri and Lara, we all yearn to reach beyond the limits of our mortality, to bestow upon the future a tiny piece of the greatest and most enduring loves of our lives. Maybe, like Tanya’s artistry on the balalaika, such offerings are a gift.
Why would we not want to utilize this powerful human inclination in our storytelling? Why wouldn’t we seek to provide such a gift to our readers?
Well, WU kids, parents, and grandparents—what say you? Did you know your grandparents? Great-grandparents? Do you play the balalaika? What blessings or curses have your sires bestowed? Have you ever told generational stories? Do you believe generational elements can enhance our stories?
Vaughn Roycroft’s (he/him) teacher gave him a copy of The Hobbit in the 6th grade, sparking a lifelong passion for reading and history. After college, life intervened, and Vaughn spent twenty years building a successful business. During those years, he and his wife built a getaway cottage near their favorite shoreline, in a fashion that would make the elves of Rivendell proud. After many milestone achievements, and with the mantra ‘life’s too short,’ they left their hectic lives in the business world, moved to their little cottage, and Vaughn finally returned to writing. Now he spends his days striving to finish his epic fantasy series.
Lovely. Thank you for this Vaughn. I was (am?) a genealogist. My researcher daughter picked up where I left off, tracing ancestry. I do descendants, add family health issues, and baby names (just added another on Saturday). We have immigrants who changed their names, child birth before immigration with a mismatched marriage date, child abuse, career change (from wagon maker to farmer), and, after picking up meat from a butcher, a horse and wagon escape from a prowling panther down a forest lined road.
My favorite reads were Little Women, Forgotten Beasts of Eld, and romance or romance suspense that were family oriented. My more recent favorites are Inge’s War, The Guncle, The Lost Girls of Devon, The Vanishing Half, and Marisa de los Santos’ story family that started with Love Walked In.
No wonder I’m trying to write a family saga. Like you, my characters have been developing for a few years. Family love or lack of it, shape who we are, and we determine what we pass on and what we stop.
Hey Lisa — Wow, that family history! We have immigrants who changed names in our lineage, as well (seems fairly common–maybe the “fresh start” approach to the New World?). I’m not surprised your daughter jumped in; it’s so easy to get hooked. I’m delighted to hear that it’s providing inspiration for your work. Great list of generational stories, too–I’ll check out those I’m unfamiliar with.
Thanks much for enhancing the discussion! Wishing you the very best with the saga!
So strange, or the word is more *apropos* than strange. I’m up early, plotting out my new project (I’ve been researching and writing out bits of it for several months, so it’s new). I’m prone to using generational tidbits as backstory, and this morning it dawned on me that this new piece is all about backstory foreshadowing the present and the inevitable future. And lo and behold, I had an epiphany. That’s what real life is! Duh. Please talk about the obvious smacking me in the face. Real life is made of lineage. I know this, we all know this, but today it dawned on me emotionally. It made me a bit weepy, too (which also makes for understanding why all those family tree DNA apps sell so well). But enough! I got a gig to write.
Thanks as always, for shining light.
Glad things are going well with your publishing project, V!
Hey B! Oh my gosh, this is right up your alley, isn’t it? You’re an old hand at including generational elements! Boy, do I know the feeling of being smacked on the head by inspiration that should’ve been apparent, lol. I’m so glad to hear that the timing of this worked for you. And that you’re embarking on a new project! Exciting.
Thanks, B, for weighing and, and for your well-wishes and longtime support. Good luck with the new project!
Hello Vaughn. Thank you for your thoughtful meditation on the personal history of your storytelling. It challenges someone like me to reflect on my own decades-long life as a scribbling nomad.
It’s also a little threatening. I was born to older parents, and their parents died before I could know them. William, who would have been my older brother, was stillborn. My mother and father memorialized him two years later by making William my middle name. They had no more children, and I grew up with just one first cousin (I saw him six or seven times while growing up). I am a stepfather but not a father, and this backstory must explain why what I write is so lacking in generational elements.
That lack seems to come naturally to me–or unnaturally. Either way, the only generational books I’ve read figured on lists of required reading, or books chosen by committee to be taught in basic courses in my department. Do the intricacies of ancestral dynamics make me impatient as a reader, because they are so missing in my experience? Very likely. That said, it would be intriguing to know why you and I have approached storytelling in such opposite ways. Thanks again.
Hi Barry–That really is fascinating, how differently we reacted. I also had older parents, and was the youngest by far (likely an oopsie-daisy baby, although they never admitted it). All of my grandparents were gone before I was ten, and I wasn’t even allowed to attend any of the funerals. I started digging around in amateur genealogy before I started writing, and the experience was one of the things that lured me to the blank page.
Maybe I was too foolish to have had the instinct to “write what you know.” Or maybe it’s that you’re not as fearfully obsessed with your mortality as I am, lol. Thanks for adding the intriguing element to the conversation. Cheers!
Hi Vaughn– this likewise aging childless writer salutes your careful hurtling towards publication. I hope it’s not premature to say, “Well done!”
When I moved in 1993 from the Northeast/Mid-Atlantic region of the US to the Deep South, one thing that amazed me about social occasions — aside from the food, and the talk about OTHER food — was the generational aspect of pretty much every narrative. How the heck did all these people know so much about all these forebears, these cousins, these half- and step-sisters? How did they keep it all straight in their heads?
A few years later, a TV show (of all things) suggested the answer. That show, The Mentalist, featured as protagonist a sideshow “psychic” performer who is called upon to assist police in their investigations. But they’re not after his ability to predict the future, because he had no such ability. They’re after his deep understanding of human nature and behavior — a talent which lay behind his “predictions” and apparent knowledge of the unknowable (e.g., “What is the killer likely to do next?”).
Anyhow, one of the protagonist’s genuine talents was an apparently photographic recall of things like the layout of rooms, lists of numbers, and so on. The trick to it, he explained, was that he had what I think he called a “memory palace.” In it, he constructed links between rooms and between important objects — even non-“real” ones, like random numbers — in those rooms… and the links were bits of a made-up story. So if he had numbers, say, like, oh, 18 and 1,574, he might have a micro-story like: “In 1574 AD, the Pope had a force of 18 Swiss Guards around him at all times.” (I’m making this up as I go along, just because I needed an example.) So from then on, whenever those two numbers showed up together in one context or another of the episode, boing!, the memory of that micro-story was reinforced.
I think all those Deep South family histories might be passed around and remembered — openly and inwardly — in the same way, with people/relationships standing in for 18 and 1,574 in this case. What makes the PEOPLE memorable — unforgettable — is the skein of micro-stories connecting them: narrative is the glue.
…and so I think your absorption in the stories and backstories of all your people, on- and off-stage, is bound to pay off for your readers. Looking forward to reading more about those people!
Hey John — That’s so cool, how the show gave you that insight. And such an insight! Just from your example, I can tell that I definitely do something similar to the “memory palace” while I’m dwelling in my story-world. The micro-story connection becoming the glue is a perfect description.
It’s also fascinating that there’s such a regional difference in how generational knowledge is passed along (or not). Thanks for the wonderful additions to the conversation, and for your kind words and support. Here’s to the amazing workings of the human brain!
Vaughn, what a beautiful post…because you so cogently explain your writing process, how the threads of your story grew and took over, which I believe is the true power of writing. Being in the middle of a project (and it could be the middle after three pages) everything around you begins to flow toward story. True, if written down or remembered, not all DOES become part of one’s WIP, but it underlines how the brain is pulled to story–and in the case of we writers, our story, the one we are immersed in, the one of that moment. And just as a side comment, both my husband and I agree that the film of Dr. Zhivago is truly our favorite. The complicated story lines woven through a tumutuous history and YES, the ending, bring to life the joy and pain of living. Wish you the best with your work and its publication.
Hi Beth! It’s so true, how we’re pulled into a current. And you’re also correct in reminding us that not everything we collect during the flow need be included in the final pages. It will still be there, simply because everything we gain along the way informs what we actually do include.
Here’s to Yuri and Lara! Glad to hear that I’m not alone in my longtime love of a classic. Thanks much for this great addition, Beth! I very much appreciate your well-wishes.
Helpless before the lure of a quiz, which I can never resist.
I knew both grandmothers slightly; we lived across the continent from them and visited only every few years. One grandmother died when I was quite young; her legacy of good cooking and child-shaming was transmitted through my mother. The other died when I was a teenager; she was a painter and always sent me art books calibrated to my age. Do I paint now? No, but I cling to her books and even to some of her brushes and dried-out tubes of watercolors (which, I understand, can be restored by water) as a way of maintaining the old tenuous connection. One grandfather died before my birth; the other when I was an infant. That latter grandfather was well known in his field and left a huge paper trail, and his activities are the subject of my research-based narrative nonfiction WIP. It helps immeasurably that I lived much of my childhood in the remote village where he spent most of his career; facts change, but the atmospherics are indelible and reliable and usable.
Balalaika? No. Church organ in my youth, and traditional fiddle (old-time, not bluegrass) until arthritis invaded my fingers.
Blessings or curses bestowed: see above.
Some of my flash stories and essays are generational narratives, now that I think of it. I just wrote them without being conscious of that aspect. Note to self: keep that possibility consciously in mind when writing new flashes. Yes, that element will surely enrich them. Thanks for the nudge, Vaughn, and for the encouragement you always provide by describing your process, your persistence year after year, and especially the marinating your stories and characters have gone through.
Hey Anna — Ah, but the next quiz question has to be from which grandsire did the impulse to complete a quiz derive? :) Seriously, that’s quite the mixed bag of blessings and curses. Love that you still have those books, brushes and paints! And all of it contributes to wonderful you. Isn’t it fun to look back and see the threads that lead to the origins of our intrigues, and ultimately to the work we produce? Bonus, the more we learn, the deeper and truer the work!
Thanks for taking the quiz, and supplying such a fascinating addition to the conversation, my friend. Here’s to persistence and marination!
Vaughn, congratulations on your 1,000+-page opening scene. I’m sure your 3,000-page muddy middle will finally show us your protagonist. Joking! I know are well past most of the muddiness, and coming round the bend, words and swords flying. May your self-pubbing quest ride on white stallions.
I was the youngest of older parents too, but I did know my grandparents on both sides somewhat well. The Irish side, farmers who lost the farm in the Depression, still had what I thought was a vast rural Iowa estate as a child. I have many memories of the big Victorian, with the skeleton-key doors and being able to hit a baseball a mile (if I could hit one a mile) in their backyard, near the corn fields. But I most remember that my grandmother made at the very least, THREE pies every day for the noon “supper,” as they dubbed it. Big family, big appetites.
My father-side relatives lived in Colorado, distinguished by my quiet, steady pharmacist grandfather and my unquiet, eccentric, Mississippi-born grandmother, who told many apocryphal tales, and who read fortunes by her special cards, and who I’m sure cheated at poker with my parents. I knew a lot of my cousins too, because my mom and two sisters moved to Southern California in WWII (Long Beach was called “Iowa by the Sea”), and as good Catholics, they did a fair amount of begetting, which made for lively parties.
Sorry if I’m going on like my southern grandmother. Looking forward to seeing the covers of your books, and by golly, the books themselves!
Hi Tom — Hahaha, you’re so right about me!… Hey wait, that’s not funny. Readers will meet my protagonist well before the 2000 page mark!
My dad grew up on a farm in south-central Michigan, so I exactly recall what you’re describing about the baseball potential. His cousin lived in the house he grew in (after his parents passed on), so we visited quite a few times, and our second-cousins delighted in showing us what sad city mice we were, in a variety of ways (read: creative torture). For example, I was encouraged to carry the feed for the cattle across the pigpen, my tormentors fully aware that I’d been knocked over before I got across.
I think I’d love to meet your southern grams, and I love that you inherited a bit of her. As for the cover for book one, we’re VERY close now (more creative torture!). Can’t wait to share it all. And for those of you who don’t read epic fantasy, they’re going to make delightful doorstops–useful even with the heaviest of doors in the gustiest of weather!
Thanks for sharing a bit of your grandsires, and I love that Long Beach was Iowa by the Sea!
Vaughn, I am so looking forward to your book when it comes out. :-) Such non-spoiler-y fun to hear about the threads that have been woven into it!
As the oldest child of two oldest children, I was fortunate enough to meet almost all of my great-grandparents, although I really only remember two. Both sides of my family have been blessed with longevity, as well, so my favorite great-grandmother lived to be 97 and died when I was in college; my last grandfather passed away just before the pandemic ,a few months before he turned 99. It’s been interesting to see how those relationships change over time, as I’ve become an adult (and now thoroughly middle aged). I do wish I could circle back to some of the ones I lost earlier, to talk with them again, though. Admittedly, I would have new questions!
I love Finding Your Roots–I haven’t wandered into the genealogy too much yet, but it’s like a tempting possibility, and I’ve collected little bits and pieces of family history, some of which are finding their way (much altered) into my current WIP. It’s not a generational epic in quite the same way, but centered around the history of a place and the people who have been there, have come and gone, over decades and generations. Certainly I’ve been thinking a lot over the past few years about the ways that history plays out and the past influences the present.
I just finished reading a lovely memoir by Susan Straight, In the Company of Women, where she traces her daughters’ family history (particularly the women in the family, obviously). She writes about both her own ancestors and those of her in-laws…really fascinating.
Hey Alisha! My eldest first cousin was in the same position as you. He’s about twenty years my senior, and shares tidbits about our great-grandparents. He even recalls my mom as his teenage babysitter, and how she let him listen to radio programs that were normally past his bedtime, which is fun.
Finding Your Roots got us to send in our spit samples, and because of it, I was contacted by a nephew I didn’t know I have. My eldest sister (now deceased) gave him up for adoption, and he found me via DNA. We’ve even met! Super cool what’s possible.
I’ll look into the Susan Straight book–the role of women in family histories is a fascinating topic. Thanks so much for a great addition to the conversation, and for your excitement and support for my work. Means the world to me. :)
How neat that you found a nephew! I’ve been sorely tempted to do the DNA test. My sister has, so I know roughly how it would shake out, but I’m curious to find out if there are differences.
My wife and her siblings have notable differences in their Ancestry charts. She’s particularly gratified to be the “most Irish” of her entire family, lol. (By a small percentile, for some weird reason.). I recommend doing it–it’s interesting and fun. And has potential health benefits, too!
Vaughn, thank you for this fine reflection on generational stories and how yours have come to be. It’s both strange how our story people become so real to us, no? And Dr. Zhivago remains a favorite–you expressed the longing to have that connection so well. I have always loved generational stories because they reflect reality–the blessings and the curses. Most of the people in my grandparents’ generation died young so I only knew and met two of them–my maternal grandmother and a paternal great-aunt and they told great stories about their own lives and those of their parents and grandparents. We have a storytelling tradition and my own children appreciate them, esp. stories of my mother whom they’ve never met. I really should write them down. And I can’t wait to see how my kids’ lives unfold, to see the patterns in their lives…I’m already beginning to see some of them, esp. in my sister’s family (she’s already a grandmother several times over and so, so happy).
Hey Vijaya — You’re living generational tale! I suppose we all are, right? That’s cool, about your kids learning about your mom via storytelling. It’s a lovely idea, to put those stories in writing!
And another Dr. Zhivago fan–Huzzah! Thanks much for weighing in, and keep telling those stories!
Such a interesting analysis, Vaughn. I never thought of a story having a generational aspect as being a specific story element, probably because that generation thing is so strong in my life. My mother is one of 12 and my dad one of 7. I knew my grandparents well, and uncles and aunts and cousins and cousins’ children, more on one side than on the other. My father’s side lived through WWII in the Netherlands and immigrated to Canada in the 1950s, so stories tend to be dramatic on that side — and I’ve stolen several to use in my fiction. My mother’s side were among the earliest immigrants to West Michigan in the 1840s on her mother’s side, and on her father’s side, were apparently so impressively poor after they came to the U.S. that they made other poor people feel good about themselves. Both sides were survivors and riskers — my father’s side were loud survivors and my mother’s side were more quiet and plodding. I see both of those in myself. With so many people involved, we like tracing family character traits through the generations. Three of my cousins on my dad’s side gave us the greatest gift: one gathered and scanned all the old documents and photos, and two took storytelling videos of my uncles and aunts. As they (and we) get older, they are telling more of the truth of their growing up, which alters some of our impressions of our grandparents, but I’m glad they feel freer. That sense of history, of belonging to a people, is something I treasure. Even when the specific members of that history drive me nuts.
Hey Natalie! It’s so great to hear all of this. I love that the generational aspect is so central to storytelling for you that you never even gleaned it as a nonessential element. I sort of agree!
Man, how cool both sets of stories are, though. And, damn–once again, we find how similar we are. My father’s side bought land in south-central Michigan in the 1840s, southeast corner of Kalamazoo County. Have you heard of the tiny village of Scotts, MI (often lumped together with nearby Climax). My great-great grandfather bought from the Scott family, and married one of the Scott daughters. My paternal grandfather and older brother both have the first name Scott, in her honor. And I have my maternal grandparents’ passage records, and ship’s tickets, for their voyage from Rotterdam, in 1896. They came to Kalamazoo to find distant friends of the family in the (formerly VERY Dutch) northside neighborhood there. They avoided being in the Netherlands for WW2, but my grandfather ended up back in the old country a little over 20 years after he left, as an American trooper serving in WW1.
I totally agree, that our sense of belonging is to be treasured. I guess I sensed mine should be stronger than it was, and it’s a big part of why I sought it through story. Thanks so much for sharing this! Enjoy this very pleasant (for August) weather, my friend.
How amazing to have the passage records and ship’s tickets! What an experience for your grandfather to go back to save his old country while serving his new country. I wonder if his superiors took advantage of his knowledge of the country or if they found him suspect because of it.
Great questions! Oh how I wish there was still someone left to ask. And, yes, I do treasure my little box of historical documents. My aunt picked me to entrust as the family’s historian (over her own children), and it’s an honor. Thanks again, Natalie!
Hmm, this gives me a new angle to think about my main WIP from (my secondary one too, I think, but I don’t have that one as well figured out to pull the connections together yet).
I don’t know what it is about strained familial dynamics, and fraught ancestry that causes it to surface time and time again in my own writing. My own parents are lovely, as were the grandparents I got to know (on my father’s side), and I have a very good relationship with them, even if they made some mistakes with unfortunate long-term impacts when I was growing up.
The current WIP follows a pair of siblings with inherited expectations – to become witch hunters like their parents are (it’s urban fantasy). The younger brother is estranged from his parents, the older is constantly trying to pull the family back together again.
On the other end, with the witch’s of my world, there’s inherited knowledge – how to understand and perform one’s own magic, something technically achievable by anyone as long as you know it exists and have some capacity for self-knowledge. Sometimes inherited because of ancestors passing down what they know to their descendants. Sometimes offered to someone outside of blood-relations for varying reasons – maybe a friend, maybe someone who started to develop magic without fully understanding it and no one to guide them – who has no such family history of magic.
And chosen family has begun to thread it’s way through this as well: that one doesn’t always have to accept their inheritance, that a different one can be chosen – as the younger brother walks away from hunting witches and becomes one himself.
Hey Dorian — Sounds like you have an excellent grip on your goals for your work. And I totally agree with you about chosen family (one of my favorite tropes). Thanks much for sharing your insightful take on the topic. Keep on keeping on!
Vaughn, with epigenetics pointing to the role of the environment in gene expression and becoming heritable, there may be even greater interest in generational stories. Jamie Ford tackles this in his new book The Many Daughters of Afong Moy. I enjoyed it, but my biggest criticism was that he focused so much on trauma in each generation, he forgot about the blessings. They too are passed on. All in all, an interesting read.
Hi again, You’ve given me a new project. I’d never heard the term epigenetics, but now I’m fascinated. Also, I love Ford’s work, so I’ll have to check his new one out. Thanks again!
Always love your engaging essays, Vaughn!
Since my trilogy is family saga, there is the generational aspect. For me personally, I really didn’t know my grandparents well–a shame. But I make up what I don’t know! :)
Hi Kat! Back at ya–always love yours, too! The making up of the unknown stuff is half the fun of generational writing, isn’t it? Thanks much for letting me know!
Great post, Vaughn (and thanks for the mention!) I find generational stories fascinating and increasingly enjoy writing them – my Warrior Bards series grew partly out of a desire to find out how the next generation of some characters in the preceding series, Blackthorn & Grim, turned out. Storytelling is all about character and psychology for me, and ”nature versus nurture” is always on my mind when creating characters. I grew up knowing my grandmothers on both sides, and the Scottish maternal grandmother, in particular, had quite an influence on me. There are good things (storytelling, music, Celtic ancestry) and darker things in the family history. These days I am a grandmother of nine, and I do my best to help pass on the storytelling spark, and the love of reading, to them.
Hi Juliet! Anyone who reads with any depth at all in your catalog will plainly see that you’re adept at generational storytelling, so it’s not too great a surprise that you were familiar with your grandsires. And now you’re seeing it from the other way around, which I’m sure is a gift–to you and to your grandchildren. Thank goodness for your Scottish grandmother! We readers are grateful for her.
Also, it’s great to see your books finding their way into the Fantasy BookTube community. I keep seeing them more and more and it does my heart a lot of good. I always thought they were a bit underappreciated here in the states. Thanks so much for this lovely addition to the conversation, and for all of your support!