Posts by Vaughn Roycroft
Spring has finally arrived here in the Mighty Mitten. Well, on most days. As I type this, it’s 53°F under gunmetal gray clouds, with brisk winds stirring the big lake to a distant roar. But you know what? I’m sort of relieved. At this point, my weedy-but-otherwise-empty garden beds and planters are basically mocking me. Warm sunshine only makes the mockery more hurtful.
Something about spring’s arrival this year has left me… well, I guess the most fitting word is exhausted. Around here, spring brings a crop of seasonal chores. So far I have: washed the windows and screens; washed and set up two of our three porches; washed and set up our patio and its furnishings; and cleaned out the garage, attic and crawlspace—filling a dumpster in the process. All of that and somehow I feel nowhere near to being ready for summer.
Still, I know that unfinished seasonal chores and their accompanying exhaustion are only contributing factors to a general sense of overwhelm. I’ve still got a second book in a trilogy to release. I thought it would be out by now, but it wasn’t meant to be. The list of pre-publication boxes to check feels unending. The very minute book two actually releases, a new list of unchecked boxes for book three will land at the center of my desk. All the while, the list of things I should be doing to promote book one sits visibly across the desk, mocking me and shaming the other two lists into looking meaningless.
Damn, this turned into a whiney-ass opening, didn’t it? And yet, it’s how I feel. Just in case there’s anyone else who’s feeling run-down rather than revitalized by spring, I thought I’d make a list of the ways in which I’ve been seeking to nurture myself as a writer, stave off feelings of overwhelm, and beat the seasonal blues.
Find the Good—I’ve written about “flipping the script” before, right here on WU, and yet somehow I need constant reminding to do just that. Take my whiney-ass list of complaints above. So I have to wash windows and install screens. The flip side of that? I have a home with forest views and wonderful airflow. The flip of having only two of three porches summer-ready? I have THREE goddam porches—a veritable trifecta of excellent spots to relax.
How about those bookish chores—what’s the flip side of those? It’s not just that I’ve had the opportunity to work on this trilogy for a decade, to tweak and polish it to my satisfaction. On top of that, I’ve arrived here at a moment when the means to publish the story myself, and to produce three beautiful books in the process, has never been easier or more accessible.
How’s that for flipping the script on a whiney-ass opening? It doesn’t always completely cure what ails you, but for me, taking the time to find the good ALWAYS helps.
Slow Down & Take It All In—Sometimes I don’t even realize how caught up I am in a nonexistent race. My untended garden beds are a good example. Every time I look at them, I feel bad and kick myself. I see what other self-pub writers are doing, on a very regular basis, to promote […]
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If you’re a fan of epic fantasy or of Fantasy BookTube, our guest today will need no introduction. For the rest of you, Philip Chase is medievalist with a PhD in English Literature. He has taught courses on writing, medieval literature, and fantasy literature, among other things. His special interests include Old English, Old Norse, Middle English, nineteenth-century medievalism, comparative mythology, and fantasy. Other inspirations include time spent in places like Germany, the United Kingdom, Nepal, and the Northeast and Northwest of the United States.
Those of us who are fans of his eponymous YouTube channel, which is dedicated to exploring fantasy literature, have come to know him affectionately as Dr. Fantasy (after a regular segment on his channel). Many of us have also recently come to know him as the author of The Edan Trilogy, which begins with his recent debut, The Way of Edan. I was lucky enough to get an early chance to read, and I can tell you that his expertise and dedication shine through in every sentence of this wonderful book. I’m a fan twice over!
I also had the honor of hosting the discussion below, in an effort to ascertain the root causes—and lifelong consequences—of an affliction I share with today’s interviewee: a fervent love of fantasy. Please help me to welcome Dr. Fantasy himself, Philp Chase, to WU.
Vaughn Roycroft: You and I met in the comments of your YouTube channel. You’ve gained quite a large following there (rightfully so, in this fan’s humble opinion). Can you tell us your Fantasy BookTube origin story, and a bit about how running your channel fits into your writing life? It seems the channel has been a boon to the recent release of your debut. Did you have publication or platform-building in mind from the onset? How do you see the channel fitting into your career going forward?
Philip Chase: My YouTube channel began a little more than three years ago as an attempt to enhance a course I created and had been teaching for years at my college on fantasy literature. In the beginning, I imagined the channel as a forum where my students and I could exchange ideas on readings and on fantasy as a genre. I was completely ignorant of the community of book lovers on YouTube – I had no clue what a “TBR” or “tag video” was – but was delighted to find myself suddenly in the midst of so many people who love the genre that I believe is incredibly rich and deserving of critical exploration. My channel has always been part of the same passion that feeds my teaching, my reading, and my writing. It has turned out to be a lot of work to run a YouTube channel, but it rarely feels like work because of how much I enjoy reading and discussing fantasy literature and writing. Since I recently self-published the first book in a trilogy that I’ve been working on for more than 18 years, the channel has indeed become a boon for getting the word out. I would like to continue the conversations that take place on my channel within the “BookTube” community as a […]
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It might be a surprise to some of you that, when it comes to magic in story, WU’s resident fantasy geek (yours truly) is not the most ardent proponent. This is the case in regard to both my reading taste and my storytelling. A simple internet search of the essential elements of a fantasy story reveals how odd this is. Most every list contains the existence of magic, and the majority have magic at the top. Seems like a skillful marketer of epic fantasy would lean in to an element like that, doesn’t it?
Setting aside my lack of marketing skill, it’s not that I always dislike magic in stories. I am very fussy about it, though. There’s a lot of talk in SFF communities about hard versus soft magic systems—hard magic systems being the most well-explained and intricate. Heck, I’m not even fond of the word “systems” when used in conjunction with magic. For me, explaining magic makes it more like science. I like magic to have an unknowable quality to it. I like magic to be just beyond the grasp, of the characters and thereby of the reader.
In addition, since my favorite part of storytelling, as a reader and a writer, is character exploration, I like it when magic is used to reveal something about the characters. I want magic that pushes their boundaries, creates conflicts, and adds obstacles and nuance to the circumstance they’re navigating. I’m not interested in magic that presents easy solutions. I also consider magic to be akin to a character’s spiritual development. Not necessarily their relationship to religion, but religion and spiritualism are often connected—even if it’s an adverse or contentious association.
Getting to the core of what it is about magic and spiritualism that I feel enhances a story is a sense of wonder. I don’t consider it something that’s exclusive to SFF or speculative fiction. I love stories of any genre that can incite me to feel it, even as an underlying feature.
Sense of Wonder
As we often do, let’s lay down some definitions for this discussion.
Magic—the power to influence the course of events by using mysterious or supernatural forces. Or, the use of means which are believed to have supernatural power over natural forces.
Spirituality—the quality of being concerned with the human spirit or soul as opposed to material or physical things.
Spiritualism—the assertion that the spirit exists as distinct from matter. Or, the belief that the spirit is the prime element of reality.
Religion—the belief in and worship of superhuman power or powers. Or, a system of faith, belief, and worship; a personal set, or institutional system, of attitudes, beliefs, and practices.
Wonder—(for today’s purposes, let’s use Merriam-Webster’s #3) rapt attention or astonishment at something awesomely mysterious or new to one’s experience. Or, a sense of uncertainty or doubt.
Transcendence—extending beyond the limits of ordinary experience.
I’m just finishing up reading a sprawling epic fantasy. The world-building is phenomenal, the scale of the story is gigantic, and the political maneuvering is elaborate. And I’ve been wondering why the story is feeling flat, lifeless. The story has kept me intrigued enough to keep going, but just barely. As I considered writing this post, it hit me: it’s failing to incite a sense of wonder. There […]
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My wife and I recently found ourselves in a bit of a predicament. Our seemingly simple mission was to sync the buttons in a new car to our garage door opener. She sat in the car just outside, reading and calling out the instructions, while I got on a mini-stepladder to access the opener’s motor unit, hanging over the car bay. The operation had to be performed in a sequence, with some precise timing. Our first problem: I didn’t have any glasses on or with me. Next, due to my sketchy hearing, I kept mishearing her instructions (alas, it seems my lifelong love of well-amplified music has caught up with me). After about five failed attempts we agreed on a new tactic. Once she’d reinitiated the sequence, my wife (who did have her glasses) was to jump out of the car and hurry to the ladder to complete the operation. I was rightfully relegated to holding the mini-stepladder.
Reader, this did not go well. With a seconds-long window before the opener light would stop blinking, signaling another thwarted attempt, my wife rushed to beat this ludicrous technological deadline. She made it to the ladder, took two steps up, lost her balance, grabbed my sweatshirt in both of her fists, and promptly pulled us both over.
Thankfully, no injuries came of the spectacle. Indeed, we laughed until we were both crying. As we wiped our eyes and brushed ourselves off, I quipped, “Thank goodness we built this place when we did. I mean, here I am, can’t see or hear. And here you are—what—a whole two steps up and damn-near swooning?” She then reminded me of the time (while we were building our house together) that I stood on her shoulders while she balanced on a length of 4” x 4” lumber propped against the last scaffolding plank remaining on our roof, so that I could nail the final bit of siding on the back dormer. I say stood, meaning we were both lying with the pitch, reaching for the top of our fairly steep—and very slippery—roof. Regardless, it’s a feat we could never repeat. Potential hilarity aside, nor would we try.
The garage door incident brought two writing lessons to mind, both of which I hope you’ll find helpful, or maybe even inspiring. Both are born of newfound perspective. The first has to do with the similarities I now see in the daunting projects of building a house and writing a novel. I’ll wrap up with the second, which is a bit more abstract, having to do with parallels between the writing life and life partnerships.
Our House and Writing
I like to say that humility is the new confidence. Hence, I hate to get all braggy-pants here, but I remain pretty damn proud of our house and the fact that we built it ourselves. It’s been over twenty years, and at this point I’m sure I’ll consider it among my finest achievements for the rest of my days. Upon reflection now, I can see how similar it makes me feel to finishing each of my trilogies.
This is not to suggest that everyone should attempt to build their own house; I understand how uncommon it is to even have the opportunity to undertake such a […]
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It’s the holiday season! I seem to have created a tradition of sorts with my last few December posts here on WU, dedicated to my feelings about the prior writing year and the year ahead. Last December’s essay spoke to a positive change I was sensing, triggered by the oncoming release of my debut (this past October). I expressed how the self-evaluation I’m prone to this time of year had often led to less-than-positive feelings about my writing journey. Feelings born of judging my progress, particularly in relation to publication. Feelings that had unfortunately become entwined with the holidays (in spite of the ready availability of peppermint flavoring and the household scent of a slowly dying conifer). I reported that my improved outlook was due primarily to two factors: the freedom I was finding in staying true to my story, and a growing ability to let go of the outcome.
In the wake of my release, as I once again look backward and forward, I’m happy to report that the positive change I sensed last year has, for the most part, continued. I remain enormously happy that I’ve chosen a path that allows me to stay true to my story and how it’s presented. And, although some days are better than others, I’m continuing to get better at letting go of the outcome.
I hope you’re feeling joyful enough to stay with me as I elaborate. Or, who knows? Maybe I can help with that.
Inevitable Peaks and Valleys
I look back on my book release with memories I know I’ll cherish for a lifetime. I think this overwhelmingly positive outcome owes much to the experience of years in and around the writing community. I’d heard how ephemeral, and even disillusioning, a release could be. I had lowered my expectations to the point of resting assured that absolutely nothing magical or enduring would come of the day on which I happened to be published. Those expectations were utterly trampled by what actually occurred.
The day started right here on WU, with my first author interview (thanks, Therese!), and an outpouring from you guys in the comments. Followed by an uncountable number of calls, notes, texts, tweets, and posts, congratulating me and commending me. This went on for days and days. I continue to be astonished by the number of people who are so clearly, genuinely happy for me. My wonderful wife planned and threw a release reception that even a famous bestselling author would’ve been amazed by. Over 70 kind souls came out that Saturday night, and most of them left with signed books. In all of my six decades, I have rarely felt more appreciated.
I’m equally astonished by the dozens of non-fantasy-readers who have picked up, and are reading or have read, my debut. As delighted as I am, I’ll admit to an occasional chuckle over the response from friends and family who are finally reading my work. Several have reported that they’re actually enjoying the story! It makes me smile, how surprised they are to be engaged by a fantasy story, let alone mine.
Of course life can’t be rosy all of the time. I have continued to have my ups and downs. I’ve made mistakes and had […]
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Hi, WU, it’s me again. Sick of me yet? Hope not. Because… [Cue the programing interruption screen, and old-timey announcer voice] The following is a writerly public service announcement.
Or maybe it’s more like a report from the publishing trenches. No need to panic; there’s nothing here that amounts to an emergency, in the greater scheme. But my recent experience with my debut has taught me that Murphy’s Law holds sway over publishing. In case it’s slipped your mind, Murphy’s Law states that anything that can go wrong will go wrong. And in the complex process of publishing a book, there are a great many things that can go wrong. Any one of those things can either trigger other issues, or adversely affect other steps to the process. Or both.
Allow me to provide a few examples—you know, in the interest of writerly public service.
Cover Story
Several of you have inquired about my cover, and the process of creating it. I really wanted a cover I could be proud of—one that would reflect the perseverance and the toil that went into bringing this story to the page. Which made me willing to invest in creating something special.
The story of my cover actually began in March of 2021. In spite of finding appeal in the graphic covers that are popular these days, I knew I wanted a painted look. So I started by scoping out painted epic fantasy covers that I love and the artists that created them. A handful of artists kept coming up, and from those I picked a favorite. I reached out to my choice, whom I won’t name to protect their privacy, and they agreed to paint my cover. After several months, due to health reasons this artist asked for an extension, and I pushed the release date I’d had in mind (for the fall of ’21). Late in the fall, due to their workload with Big Five publishers and lingering health issues, the artist conveyed that something had to give. Of course I immediately released them from our contract, and the artist aided me in my search for a replacement.
Which brings us to March of this year, and my chosen replacement. I had already noted John Anthony Di Giovanni’s work, particularly the pieces he created for Joe Abercrombie’s Age of Madness trilogy. I love the series and thought that John’s work perfectly captured the atmosphere of the story and it’s world. John happened to be on my first artist’s short list for their replacement. In my initial contact with John, he very kindly conveyed his regrets; he was just too busy to fit my cover in to his tight schedule, but he would be happy to add me to his 2023 schedule.
Folks, I had already waited a year and missed my initial timeline for release. Add to that my growing feeling that providence had brought John and I together. I was smitten by his work. I could perfectly imagine him capturing my story-world and characters. It made me stubborn.
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Do you ever get the feeling that things are about to change? I mean, really change? Like, if you were to describe it in terms of the weather, it wouldn’t be just—“oh hey, it looks like rain,” but much more like, “Winter… Is… Coming!” As in, cue the Cate Blanchett-as-Galadriel voiceover:
“I feel it in the water.
I feel it in the earth.
I smell it in the air…”
I have this feeling now. Indeed, I’m aware of a major milestone—one that’s been long upcoming. I’m inside of a month till the publication of my debut. But it’s starting to feel like something more than just a day of rain or shine. Of course I’ve presumed for many years that this fast approaching day would eventually come. But I’ve already met so many great people, and experienced so much kindness and wonder because of it. I’m starting to sense that my life is going to continue to change in ways I could never have anticipated, and really still can’t.
Anyway, the phenomenon has me thinking about turning points, and how important they are to our lives—how unplannable and unavoidable they are. About how many steps are required on the way to them. All of which got me thinking about how these things apply to our characters’ lives. I thought delving into the phenomenon would be beneficial to me, and hopefully to you, too.
Milestones Versus Turning Points
As I say, the publication of a debut is something we know is coming. At some point it becomes an actual day on the calendar. I think the important dates and milestones of our lives—births, deaths, weddings, debuts, etcetera—are more like mere steps than the sort of turning point I’m trying to describe. Looking back on my own major turning points, I can see that it’s always taken a series of events to bring them about. Some are obvious, but others are more subtle-not so obvious as they happen, but hindsight reveals their crucial impact.
For example, I consider my relationship with my wife to be the most important aspect of my life. From the moment we began sharing our lives, mine has been utterly transformed. I am who I am because of it. I can look back at dozens of milestones and vital dates that relate to our relationship, and it took all of them–steps falling one after another–to make this major turning point in my life complete. I perfectly recall the day we met. Indeed, I perfectly remember the moment I saw her, through a window at a house party as she emerged from a friend’s car (it’s been noted that I dreamily but emphatically asked, “Who is that?”). For my part, it was instant attraction. I also clearly recall our first “real” date (took her to see Prince’s movie, Purple Rain). And of course, with our 32nd anniversary just around the corner, I have to acknowledge that these events culminated in our wedding day, which came on the perfect autumn evening, cementing and commemorating the completion of the turn.
But when I think back on it all, another auspicious day springs to mind
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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 […]
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You’re not wrong, Writer Unboxed is indeed dedicated to the business and craft of writing fiction. For anyone keeping track, yes–two out of my last three essays here have drawn from music and musicians (rather than books and authors). But hey, times are tough, and I promise, this time I won’t cite lyrics or delve into song meanings. So maybe you’ll bear with me?
It was the solstice last Tuesday, technically making the past week the lightest of the year. But for me, these long days have been feeling pretty dark. War, disease, demagoguery, racism, misogyny, the nullification of rights; they all feel like the drumbeats to the steady march of authoritarianism. It’s felt more like the start of dystopia than the start of summer.
It’s been hard to stay hopeful, which might be why I seized upon some happy news. News that you may not have noticed. As a longtime fan of English singer, songwriter, pianist, dancer, and record producer Kate Bush, I’ve been a keen spectator as her 1985 song Running Up That Hill reappeared on the charts and proceeded to race upward. The song, an old favorite of mine, has reentered the zeitgeist due to its meaningful placement in the new season of the hit show Stranger Things.
Last week Running Up That Hill hit #1 in the U.K. as well as six other countries, and entered the top five on the U.S. charts. Kate has been shattering records along the way, including the longest duration for a song from its release to hitting #1 (37 years!), and oldest female to hit #1 (Kate’s 63, beating out Cher’s Do You Believe In Life After Love, which topped the charts when Cher was 53). Speaking of stranger things, this all feels strangely fitting, since Kate was the first English female singer to hit #1 with a self-written song (Wuthering Heights, in 1978, at the age of 19).
The success of Running Up That Hill has led to a revival of the phenomenon a teenage Kate became in the U.K. in the late 70s. This time around, thanks to TikTok, she’s a worldwide version (her songs have been sampled on TikTok more than 616 million times). In dark days, a spectacle like this feels like a little bit of joy to grab onto. As a means of fighting my world-weariness, the revival has led me to drop into the Kate Bush rabbit hole. I’ve not only been listening to her nearly nonstop, I’ve been rewatching old interviews and documentaries. I’ve been struck anew by what a singular artist Kate really is. There was nothing like her when she arrived, and in spite of many who cite her as an influence (Bjork, St. Vincent, Joanna Newsome, to name a few), there’s really been no one like her since.
Something I heard in an old interview caught my ear and brought it all home. The interviewer asked about her willingness to take risks in her art.
Kate’s response? “This is what art is all about, isn’t it? It’s a sense of moving away from boundaries that you can’t escape in real life.”
Kate’s Literary Cred
If you’re still not convinced Kate Bush is the […]
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My wife and I recently had dinner with another married couple—old friends whom we hadn’t seen since before the pandemic. We went through the usual greeting rituals and settled into our seats, me directly across from Burke, who seemed particularly ebullient. “What’s up?” I asked, sensing there was something.
“What do you think of the audiobooks thing?” he all but burst in reply.
It took me aback. “It’s huge,” I said. “And growing fast, by all accounts.”
I’m sure all of you realize how true it is. In fact, according to a recent Publishing Perspectives piece by our own Porter Anderson, audiobooks have just completed their seventh straight year of double-digit growth, with worldwide sales of over $3 billion in 2020—on their way to a projected $15 billion by 2027. (The phenomenal performance of the category is likely not news to you, and learning more is only a google search away, so I won’t spend a lot of space on industry news.)
Burke’s ebullience, and the fact that he broached the topic right out of the gate, indicated his genuine enthusiasm for the medium. Burke is a doctor who is beginning to shepherd his practice toward his own retirement. His zeal at our dinner was born of my being a fiction writer. But that was paired with the fact that, for decades, he read zero fiction. For years he read nonfiction almost exclusively. Due to his increasing free time, including more car trips to their summer cottage, Burke has discovered Audible. He went on to tell me that he’s read over 50 audiobooks in the last year, and he just can’t get enough. He’s been catching up on the classics, and on bestsellers and notable authors he’d missed out on over the years. It’s evident that he’s having a ball, which makes me glad.
But I also found our conversation heartening. Mainly due to the fact that Burke pressed me about when my books would be available on Audible. The question sent the conversation on a tangent, about cost, voice talent, etc. Still, here’s a guy who I thought would never experience my story. Now he’s anxious to do so. That’s quite a reversal. All due to this particular medium.
You might have noticed that my response to Burke’s initial query was a bit deflective. He asked how I feel about “the audiobooks thing,” and I wasn’t exactly forthcoming. That’s partly because I’m still figuring it out. How do you feel about it? Shall we explore this publishing phenomenon together?
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Last Thursday something a little unusual happened here on WU. The post published that day was a new edition of the popular monthly feature Flog A Pro, by WU’s own Ray Rhamey. If you haven’t read the post and plan to, here’s your spoiler alert! in regard to the unusual aspect. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the pro Ray featured was an icon of fantasy, and the book is beloved staple to the genre. The book: The Wizard of Earthsea (1968). The author: the late great Ursula K. Le Guin.
The results of the poll, however, were less surprising, with almost two-thirds saying they would not read on past the first page. And although Ray voted yes, and the majority of the comments were positive (with no few recognizing the book and author), I was also unsurprised by several commenters making their reflexive aversion to the genre apparent.
Hey, I get it. Everyone has a right to dislike certain types of stories. As a lifelong fantasy fan, I’m long past having hard feelings over that. Besides, things have never been better for fantasy as a genre, both for creators and consumers. The adaptations keep rolling and the fandom keeps growing. Still, it makes me just a little sad, to think that so many still dismiss an entire genre out of hand.
The response to Ray’s post got me thinking about the breadth and the versatility of the fantasy genre. I honestly don’t think there’s another literary genre that so aptly and routinely incorporates the tropes and motifs of other genres. You name it, fantasy authors have done it. Murder mystery?—guilty. Horror—frightfully often. Political intrigue?—I’ll swear to it. Romance?—it’s adorably routine. Thriller?—yahoo!
In other words, there’s something for just about everyone in my genre. Not to mention the staggering scope of possibilities for creators. Still, there are obviously some types of stories that fantasy does better than others. For me, fantasy is at its best on a vast canvas, exploring big themes, even existential ones.
“Fantasy is a different approach to reality; an alternative technique for apprehending and coping with existence. It is not antirational, but para-rational, super-rational—a heightening of reality.”—Ursula Le Guin (from the essay, From Elfland to Poughkeepsie)
Pondering the things I think the genre apprehends particularly well, in combination with the horrific headlines of the past week, reminded me of something else that recently appeared here on WU. On Tuesday, Dave King published a thought-provoking piece on writing good versus evil. I tend to agree with Dave, that capturing goodness in humans is a complex undertaking for writers. I also tend to agree that evil can be—and often is—simplified in storytelling. In the piece Dave mentions the willful shelling of a train station in Ukraine by Russian invaders. He says, “Evil people make the deliberate decision to be bad and often take delight in doing harm.” And, “Evil is simple. Good is complex.”
While I don’t disagree with the broad principles Dave presents in his essay, I do think the finer aspects of those principles beg a few questions. And they’re questions that epic fantasy often tends to posit—perhaps better than any other genre. I believe they are questions that should be asked, […]
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No, you’re not wrong—that title definitely seems off. We’re only a few weeks into spring, after all. I blame Bob Seger. Well, perhaps it’s more accurate to blame XM Radio’s 70s soft rock channel, The Bridge.
Regarding Seger, I was never the biggest fan of my fellow Michigander. Heck, until recently I was never any sort of fan of 70s soft rock. There’s a certain irony to my discovery of The Bridge, and finding that the songs featured there soothe me. It might be the simple balm of nostalgia. Or maybe it’s my punishment for making it to 60, that I’m actually appreciating a type of music that I so ardently disdained as a teenager. Whatever the reason for my new musical penchant, it led me to the epiphany that inspired the above title and this essay.
I had always considered Seger hits to be better suited to selling trucks than soothing anxiety, let alone inspiring introspection. That is until recently, when the song Night Moves came on. It was Seger’s first mega-hit—the song, and album, that launched him and his Silver Bullet Band into the national spotlight. I’d only ever heard it as a simple ditty about teenage sexual exploration—and it is mostly that (with a dash of 70s misogyny, to boot). But this time, for the first time, the fond reminiscence in the lyrics caught my ear. I perked up and tuned into Seger’s voice in a completely new way. When he sang of the “sweet summertime, summertime,” I understood it anew, as a phase of life. Then he mentions feeling the lightning, and I grasped how, when we’re young, things tend to strike us, electrify us—and not just sex. I felt the phrase: “waiting on the thunder” in a whole new way. When we’re struck like that, we long for it to resonate in our lives.
Then came the famous, almost-spoken bridge:
“I woke last night to the sound of thunder
How far off I sat and wondered?
Started hummin’ a song from 1962
Ain’t it funny how the night moves?
When you just don’t seem to have as much to lose
Strange how the night moves
With autumn closin’ in…”
And I thought, damn–yeah, ain’t it funny? I realized how the night moves for me now, how often I wake up thinking and remembering and wondering—so much more powerfully than I used to. On those nights I see it all: distant past, still so close; fleeting present; looming future.
Then and there, I perfectly saw my writing life in Seger’s lyrics—how electric the discoveries have been, how I’ve waited on the thunder; how I just don’t seem to have as much to lose. Indeed, I’ve reached a point in my life that, while humming a song from 1976, I can see just how strangely it all moves. With autumn closing in…
A Seasoned Writer
It’s not that I consider myself a novice, but even as I close in on twenty years of writing I’ve remained hesitant to claim any sort of expertise. I’ve finished a half-dozen manuscripts, but besides knowing there’s always much more to learn, I think my hesitance is born of the bottom line: “Still not published.” Even here […]
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If you’ve visited Writer Unboxed in the past few days, you know that the blogsite and the community recently celebrated its 16th birthday. Therese shared a few stats in the commemorative post on Saturday, so I thought it would be fun to start this post by sharing a few of my own personal WU historical tidbits and stats.
As near as I can tell, I first stumbled across WU in the autumn of 2008. I was a few years into my writing journey, but at that time carpentry was my main gig. I injured my shoulder earlier in the year, and by the fall I had accepted the fact that it was debilitating to most carpentry undertakings. I considered it a sign that I should finish the first draft of my first trilogy. But while I was recouping I even found typing on a keyboard difficult. Due to my physical limitations I did a ton of reading that year, and I decided I should get caught up on the current standouts in my genre. Which led me to read Jacqueline Carey’s wonderful Kushiel series. Which led me to click on an author interview. The subject was JC, of course. The interviewer and platform? Why, our own Juliet Marillier, right here on WU.
Beyond a fascinating interview, I was immediately intrigued by what I found here, and dove into WU’s backlog of articles and essays. I instantly added a link to WU to my toolbar, and it’s been there ever since. From that moment forward, WU became a daily reading habit. (Not to mention the bonus of discovering and devouring Juliet’s catalog.)
How about a few stats? Important stuff first: did you know that JRR Tolkien/The Lord of the Rings has been mentioned in the body of over 90 essays here on WU? And no, it’s not what you’re thinking—only a small fraction of those mentions are mine. Okay, on to my actual stats. My first essay for WU appeared here almost exactly a decade ago (January 6, 2012), and the one you’re reading now is my 55th contribution. This is my third year as an assistant editor. I was among the first thirty or so members to join the WU FB Group on the day Therese announced it, and had the honor of being a moderator there for over a decade (until very recently—big thanks to Mike Swift for stepping up to take over my duties there). I was also the speculative genre reviewer for Reader Unboxed and hosted a regular ‘community links’ feature in the WU newsletter (both discontinued). My first (and only) time being published in a book was as a contributor to WU’s Author In Progress, and my two appearances on writing conference stages were both as a member of WU panels.
But for me, the WU Effect goes beyond stats and bylines. When I stand back and look at how much WU has meant to me, and what a profound role the site and community have played in my writing journey, I’m truly gobsmacked. That serendipitous google search in 2008 changed my writing life more than any other single […]
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It’s the holiday season! It seems like seasonal joy has been somewhat of a theme here on WU lately. I’m not sure about you, but for me, somehow the writing life and this particular season have not always made for a joyful pairing. Don’t get me wrong, I can be as jolly as anyone. I mean, I’m as fond of the taste of peppermint where it’s normally not found, the sound of bells ring-a-linging, and the smell of a coniferous tree slowly drying out in the house as the next guy. I think it’s mostly due to the fact that it’s the end of one year and the start of another, but this season has tended to conjure more writerly angst than joy.
It might be my nature, but I’ve always leaned into self-evaluation this time of year. Worse, when it came to my writing life, for years I was inclined to a fairly harsh appraisal. Writing has been my primary occupation throughout the last decade, but in terms of tangible accomplishments, there have been precious few to count. The process of writing a novel is a relatively slow one to begin with, which can make looking back over the prior year a little dreary. A year is a long time, right? And yet, in the span of the making of a novel, not especially so. When viewed in hindsight, a lot of the year can feel more like treading water than sailing along toward a destination.
Speaking of destinations, I have also felt compelled to annually confront the weightiest of writerly milestones: publishing. As an unpublished writer, for many years I went through the same ole’ inevitable meta review: 1) Did you get published this year? 2) No? Well, did you do anything that moved you closer to being published? 3) Not sure? Well, do you think you can get there in the coming year? And more recently, there’s the bonus question: 4) No, you’re not much closer and the chances for next year are slim? Well, do you think you’ll at least get there before you lose your marbles and can’t do this anymore?
So now that I’ve sucked all of the joy out of your evergreen-scented home on the Monday of Christmas week, you might be asking, “What’s the point, Roycroft?” I’m glad if you did, because I’m here to tell you that this year feels different to me. And I’ve got a feeling that it could for you, too. If you’re up for a shift of perspective, that is.
Go ahead and warm up your peppermint flavored coffee or tea, and allow me to at least take a joyful swing at making things jolly and bright, won’t you?
None of It Matters
Those of you who’ve been reading me here on WU (if you have, thank you!) might recall that I’ve fairly recently made the decision to self-publish my debut trilogy, and I’m willing to fess-up: that decision is central to my new outlook. There’s still a lot of work to be done, and a big hill to climb once I hit the ole’ metaphoric publish button, but the process has led me to no small number of realizations. Realizations that have shifted my perspective.
The realization that’s had the most impact might, […]
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