Sam Sykes's Blog, page 24

The Meek: An Interview with Der-Shing Helms

Anyone who's bothered to talk to me beyond to know who I am and what I'm doing in their house knows I enjoy webcomics.  Anyone who's ever read my Links page knows there is a comic out there that I absolutely adore.

The Meek

by Der-Shing Helms

Above is the strip that essentially solidified the comic to me.  It's the character that made this story one of humans trying to overcome themselves, it's the part of the story that so eloquently illustrates a conflict with no clear resolution and it's the moment that I said to myself: "You know, webcomics might actually be worth talking about."

And from a writer's perspective, they certainly are.  The challenges facing a writer of webcomics is not too unlike the challenges facing a novelist, save for one important fact: comic readers tend to be a lot less patient.  Every thing in a comic must catch the eye, must seize the attention and must work just so with the artwork.  It's undoubtedly a very difficult process, but one worth reading about.  And to talk more about it, I asked Mr. Helms if he might consider being interviewed.

…he said yes, by the way.

So, I thought about dancing around the subject, but I think I might just have to get it out of the way right now: I adore the character of Luca.  One usually doesn't see such a complex character in true literature, let alone a fantasy comic.  And while none of your characters are what I might call 'simple,' I think he's definitely one of the more difficult to understand.  Did you go into his character knowing he'd be difficult?  Or does his character just come naturally to you?

Luca isn't as difficult for me to understand as some of my other characters. His role in the comic is to be a "bad guy," but one that is still very relatable and human.  To get to the honest motivations behind his actions I decided to base a lot of the negative aspects of his personality on my own. The side effect of that is that it is sometimes difficult for me to hold him accountable for his actions… I care for the character very much, and there is a temptation to make the reader like him (and by extension, me), but some of the things he does and will do are inexcusable.  So yes, his character comes naturally, but he can be depressing to write for.

That question provides a nice segue into my next one: characterization can be a difficult thing to achieve in comics.  I think we novelists often take for granted the ability to go into a character's head and sift about in them for a bit.  Comics tend to not have that advantage, as too much thought-bubbling usually leads to telegraphing a character's motives.  How do you avoid this over-explaining?  How much is expression and physical portrayal through art and how much is dialogue?

In my head, I think of comics as art first and writing second. Not in terms of how well each carries the story, but in how the reader experiences it. With a book you are first sucked in by the language, but in comics you see the art and the acting of the characters on the page in that millisecond before you start to read. So I try to write my pages the same way; by having a general idea for the scene, acting it out (in real life and then via thumbnails), and then getting the dialogue to synch naturally with the expression. This usually also leads to an economy of explanation, since I'm naturally communicating on both the art level and the writing level. I've tried it the other way around, doing the writing first and then matching it to art, but it always loses something.

I try to avoid explicit "internal voice/ thinking" panels as well. I think of my comic almost as a real life experience, where you can pick up on cues and make assumptions, but have to read between the lines or explicitly ask if you want to know what a person is thinking.

I didn't even think to ask if you prefer your comic to be labeled fantasy or not.  I certainly wouldn't call it conventional fantasy; you've got elements of magic, spiritualism, otherworldly things riding side-by-side with guns, empire and national politics.  We occasionally talk about world-building on this blog and the question has come up of just how much of it should be available?  How much of your world do you make available through the comic and how much of a good world do you feel should be shown?

Again, I use a real world model for my world. Right now I bet you couldn't tell me a great deal about the newest trends in women's shoes. Or about the internal politics in the Vatican. Or the voting record of the senator from a state you don't live in. There's a lot of stuff in real life that you just don't have to know unless you actively seek that information. I'm presenting my world that way as well, there is a lot of background development on my end, but I don't think it's necessary to give it to the reader all at once for no reason. If it comes up naturally in a conversation I don't mind, but you won't be seeing any exposition from me. And it has a bonus of creating a sense of anticipation, knowing that new clues to the world can be dropped in any panel.

But as you know I'm a nice guy, so I did make some non-spoiler information available in my "Meekipedia" for my most curious readers. Seems only fair, seeing how much I use Google to search for background information on my own environment.

On the subject of magic (which is also something we've talked about here), The Meek features, as I said, an element of magic that isn't quite overwhelming and seems to have its own set of rules, yet retains its mystic quality.  How much thought went into the spirituality and mystical elements of the story?  Do you tend to know what you're doing when it comes to them or is it more of a shoot-from-the-hip situation?

I have a few rules for the magic, though I'll be honest and say that not every point is worked out. My main difficulty has been to figure out where to stop. If I solve some difficult situation with "magic," will it be met with disbelief? Is there a point where it just becomes too much? I don't really know the answers to these questions yet, since I haven't tested them on readers. Time's on my side though, after a few years of thinking about some of these things they still ring true to me. And I have a few more years to go before I even address those points in the comic, in case I change my mind.

Occasionally, amongst the webcomics crowd, there are murmurings of the difference between comedy and drama.  Some say you need to choose one and forsake the other, others say that's disingenuous to the nature of a story.  Where do you fall?  Is it is as big a deal as people say?  Which do you find lends itself more to characterization?

I hate to be boring and get back to my party line, but I'm grounding my story in reality. My life is mostly boring, but there is also drama. And comedy. And horror (I found an ant crawling yesterday in a place no ant should be). It's all part of living, and my story is about some people living and doing their thing. I think in a strip comic where the expectation is for humor this might be a harder question, but for a graphic novel like mine the answer is that they're both important parts to the story.

Finally, are there any comic strips, graphic novels or (cough) regular novels that you'd attribute as inspiration to yourself or valuable knowledge for others?

My high school English teacher once told me "You sure do read a lot of crap," and it's sort of true, haha. My most favorite novels are genre works: Lawrence Block's Scudder novels for crime and mystery, The Song of Ice and Fire series by Martin for that reality-based fantasy that I love, Zelazny for my sci-fi kick (which is actually relevant to the comic), and Stephen King for horror. They might not be high literature, but they are interesting! And my main goal is to make an interesting comic that can hold the reader's attention, so I guess it works out.

And I'm a big fan of Bone by Jeff Smith, and Skydoll by Barbucci and Canepa. I think I learned 90% of what I know about comics from these two works alone.

As a parting shot, I really want to stress that you can't write without reading, and you can't make comics without reading comics. In that respect, everything I've ever read has taught me how to make a comic- either by teaching me examples of what to do or by teaching me what to avoid like the plague (I'm looking at you, Dean Koontz).  The themes from all my reading and observation that spoke to me the most are the ones that made it into my own work eventually. You have to really pay attention to what it is that you like though. I don't think there's a "right" way to do things, but there certainly is an honest one.

Thanks, Der-Shing!  And I wholeheartedly advise anyone interested in writing, novels or otherwise, to check out The Meek!

Updates, Announcements, Triceratops

T-T-T-TusCon!

In hindsight, I should have been blogging about this much earlier, but I will be appearing at TusCon in…Tuscon!  The Hotel TusCon CityCenter, to be precise.  Did you know Jim "2fly" Butcher will be there, too?  Maybe he will sign my child for me!

Anyway, please come by and see me speak, if you're in the neighborhood!  We's gon' be talkin' 'bout all sorts o' crazy crap: eBooks, publishing, genres and where I stole this child from.

Happy Veteran's Day!

I almost regret talking about other stuff, since this is a topic that I feel is remarkably important.  It's Veteran's Day, as you well know, and it's a time for honoring our servicemen and women.  If you so much as say "thanks," "good job" or "come back alive," you'll have done good.  But this is one of those opportunities where you can do more.

War is…a difficult thing to understand.  I say that only because I can't understand it.  I've never been in one.  But it's everywhere and the men and women who come back from it don't always have the means, the motive or the resources for dealing with what's come back with them.  Not all of them want to be helped and you can't do everything for them, but you can do something.

You can listen.

Sometimes that's all it takes.  Sometimes they need more, but you can't give it to them.  Giving what you can, though, is a good start, even if all you can is your time and an ear.  So if you have the opportunity to help a Veteran just by giving them the chance to talk to you, the chance to know that they don't just give up their time and their health for our country, and maybe even the chance to tell them that there's help for the stuff that follows them back home.

Do so.

Excerpts

I had a few up on the Mad Hatter's Bookshelf and Floor-to-Ceiling Books.  We had to take them down due to some publisher considerations (we're doing something cooler).  But do not fret, my lovelies.  I'll undoubtedly get them to you.

Sam Sykes Tells You What to Think On Issues You Talk About

One-Star Amazon Ratings as a means of protesting a lack of viable eBook Format

If you're curious about the book, read it yourself, dang it.  If you want to see something on Kindle, there's a link on the book's page to do such a thing.  Click it many times.

The Pedophile's How-To Guide on Amazon

It's an independent business.  It's not censorship if they choose not to carry it.  Also: oh my God, really?

Gnomes

When the fuck did they go from woodland perverts to inventors, anyway?  What happened there?

Motives for Bloggers

Blog honestly for readers.  Blog often for publishers.  Blog wittily for yourself.  Blog fairly for authors.  Blog about your vast muscles and how you can lift a tire over your head for chicks.

What happened to Montel Williams?

I think he's dead.

How was World Fantasy?

I can beat up both Blake Charlton and Peter V. Brett at the same time.

Has Sam Sykes ever gotten into a fist fight with girls?

Three of them.  All on my twitter.

Triceratops?

Graaaaaaaar!

Short Fiction Jam Session of Despair

A man waded into the water once.

It was a spontaneous thing to do that he had been planning for months.  It was the solution to all his problems.  Women loved spontaneity, as much as they loved planning and other things that the television had told him they loved.  Men respected spontaneity, they would clap his back and say "you crazy son of a bitch" in a way that meant good things instead of bad.  This was what people wanted him to do and he did so.

He waited patiently for someone to walk by and notice him.  A woman did, but did not.  He looked at her and said: "Do you see the craziness here?  I am a rather wild and spontaneous fellow and this is the sort of thing your kind likes.  I don't like to say 'your kind,' since I don't want to be with a woman who can be boiled down into a kind, but I kind of want to be the kind of woman who I can categorize from time to time in kind so that they're easier to handle.  The thing is, I know that you're supposed to be hard to handle and that's the reward, but I'm desperately afraid of dying alone, being alone and being okay with being alone, so I kind of hope this will just go right so I don't have to work so hard and so that I can rest easy knowing I'm going to die some day.  So maybe you could come into the water with me and you'll ignore everything but that and this will work."

But he said it with his eyes, like handsome men do, and he was not a handsome man so she kept walking.

He thought about walking after her and just saying these things with his mouth, but he remembered that he had always given up too soon on things.  He was a quitter.  When things got hard, he would quit them.  If he did that now, someone would see him and say: "Wasn't that man being spontaneous a few moments ago?  Now he is just walking back and forth like an ordinary person on dry land.  Such a wishy washy state suggests a defect of the mind.  Officer?  Officer!  That man was being spontaneous a moment ago and now he is not.  I fear he might have a mental illness.  Yes, please put him on the watch list of sexual terrorists.  Yes, thank you."

He was not a quitter.  Not when it counted.  Not when it came to standing in the water.  So he stood and waited a long time for someone to see how wacky this was.

And someone did and someone saw.  But they got it all wrong.

"The tide is rising," they said.  "You're going to find yourself without clean clothes."

"I know," he said.  "I won't have any clean pants to wear to work tomorrow and they will likely fire me and I will have to leave my apartment because I am poor.  Then everyone will know I am poor because I will have become addicted to meth.  That is what poor people do and I will be one of them.  I dearly wish I wasn't going to be addicted to meth."

"You could move.  The tide hasn't reached your pants yet since you rolled them up."

"Well, no, because of that reason I already had an internal monologue above."

"Oh."

"Yes.  Damned if you do, damned if you don't."

"I don't think it works that way," they said.  This seemed to be leading toward an argument, so he just nodded politely and stared down at the rising water.

He did lose his job because he didn't come into work the next day or the next.  How could he have, he asked himself?  His coworkers knew he was going to the beach.  He had told them.  And if he hadn't, they would know.  Somehow, they would know and they would hate him for it because he had given them no reason to like him.  If only they had come here and seen what he had done, he would have had their respect.  Life was so unfair.

And the reason it was unfair was because a young lady got married the very next day on the beach.  He stared at the spot next to her adoringly and wished he was standing there.  He would have looked very nice in a suit.  Then he would have gone on his honeymoon and he would have had a good time and he would talk about being married and he would tell stories about being married and he would be married and he would be happy.  Not to that woman, though.  She was kind of fat.

Maybe a marriage wasn't the best solution, he thought, because the very next week the Apocalypse happened.  He noted down that the Zoroastrians had it right.  Hadn't he had a conversation about this last week with his coworkers?  He should have said something then, because they would have laughed and he wouldn't have had to come out here to be spontaneous for three weeks.  Those crazy Zoroastrians.  "Man, he totally called it," they would have said.  He couldn't think much further than that because people were screaming and running away from the end of the world and no one even bothered to look at him.

Life continued to be unfair.  Eventually the ice caps melted and he drowned.

The end.  No moral.

Aragorn is Dead

I write fantasy.  I'm quite pleased writing fantasy.  It's a vast field that thrives on experimentation and whose greatest stories are born with the phrases: "what if," "wouldn't it be cool," and "how does that work?"  It is a genre which is based on the concept of doing whatever the hell you want to.  The exploration of the however, the whyever and the wherever the hell you want to is what makes the story fun enough to match the concept.

But for every "what if," "wouldn't it be cool," and "how does that work," we have another set of voices.  These ones say "been done," "wouldn't it be unrealistic," and "it doesn't work like that."  They're not exactly as loud as they used to be, to be sure, but they're still there and they're still noticeable.  Why?  Because it's annoying and it's wrong and it doesn't really work that way anymore.

If you're one of his many fans, you might have seen this post by Scott Westerfeld, author of Leviathan, in which he bites back against those who accuse steampunk of being ridiculous, unrealistic or whatever the current complaint lodged against them is.  In the interests of full disclosure, I've never really been all that into steampunk and my fancy of it tends to end at "oh, cool, zeppelins."  But I think what Mr. Westerfeld is saying is something that applies to all of fantasy.

Why do we keep trying to put rules on this genre?  The fact that fantasy is more popular than ever and more diverse than ever is not a coincidence.  I'm sure there's more than a few people who remember when the genre as a whole was stagnant, mostly because everything was an echo of Tolkien or another author.  We've moved far away from that, but have we moved far enough?  I mean, try to have a conversation with a fantasy fan that doesn't involve the words "Tolkien" and "genius" in one way or another.  And once you've done that, see if the other guy doesn't look a little more nervous at the mention of him.  We speak his name in hushed tones and it seems like he has to be included as an influence in just about everything as a matter of paying tribute.

We've come a long, long way from Lord of the Rings. It's okay to like that book.  It's okay to be influenced by that book.  But do we really need to speak of him as though he were a god instead of a dude who broke rules in the first place?

There are rules to writing, yes.  To writing. Not to writing fantasy.  And good writing frequently shatters those rules (though a knowledge of them is needed to break them in the first place).  When we put rules on writing fantasy, when we believe there are certain measures of a story that must be fulfilled or certain things that must happen or certain qualities a hero must have, it taints the creativity behind the story.  The author is no longer writing what they want to write, but writing what they think they ought to write, which is the sort of attitude that should remain in middle school.

I'm sure there are a few people that will interpret this as a total blaspheming to Tolkien, Howard, whoever.  I'm not saying what they did wasn't important.  I'm not saying their quality has diminished over the years.  I'm not saying you can't be influenced by their work.  I am saying we don't have to feel constrained by their influence.  I am saying we don't have to interpret their work as rules to be obeyed relentlessly.  I am saying that, if you want to write something that totally spits in their faces, you absolutely should.

I like to think I get more than a few aspiring or practicing authors here as traffic, people whom yet have not met me in person and thusly still think my advice is actually worthier than the rantings of a delusional madman (oh, you are in for a shock), so I hope to impart this bit of wisdom to you.

Maybe some people will hate you.  Maybe some people will hate your work, maybe some people will hate you for writing it.  You can't give a crap about them any more than you can give a crap about WWTD.  You can't please them.  You can't please them, because they want someone you aren't.  You can't be that person, no matter how much tribute you pay or how many homages appear in your work.

You can only write for yourself.  Even the people who will love your work are secondary, because you can't write for them, either.  And they don't love your work because you wrote for them.  They love your work because they love your work. It's one of the simplest and most beautiful truths of this business.  You can hope they enjoy it.  You can even make minor tweaks to make them enjoy it more.  But you can never do what another person did.  And you should never try to be anyone but yourself.

It's a hard attitude to come by and, don't let me fool you, I'm not at all impervious to a person hating my book.  But I am at peace with the fact that I write what I want to write, that I write as Sam Sykes, and that no one else can do what I can do.  I can't do what Tolkien did, either.  Nor can I do what Westerfeld, Lynch, Scalzi, Abercrombie, Rothfuss, Mieville with a stupid accent, Priest, Resnick or Enus Schmidt does.

And because I can't, we have a world where you have Westerfeld, Lynch, Scalzi, Abercrombie, Rothfuss, Mieville with a stupid accent, Priest, Resnick, Enus Schmidt and Sykes to read.

And that's a pretty good place to be.

I, Canadian.

Well, the Surrey International Writer's Conference has come and gone for the…fifth year I've been there, I believe?  As you may recall, I've ranted and raved about how much this conference can help a young writer.  It certainly did for me when Tome of the Undergates was a mere fledgling book, still capable of flight before it grew too obese and resorted to hunting and devouring land-based books.

And this year, they took a chance at that reputation for quality by inviting me to conduct a workshop, "The First Time Publishing Experience."

Did it pay off for them?

Really, that's not something I can answer on my own.  I'd certainly like to think that my presence was an added bonus to the Conference, but that is opinion.  All I can give you are facts, such as the fact that the workshop was very nearly standing room only, or the fact that we managed to fill up the entire hour and a half period with questions from the audience and ensuring that everyone got to ask what was on their mind, or the fact that I heard from several reliable sources that the board had been raved to about my performance and my contribution.

A success?  Possibly.  We'll see if and when I get invited back next year whether this one was just a fluke.

Still, even if no one else considers it a success, I know I had an immense amount of fun.  Don't get me wrong, I love the adulation and respect of the crowd as much as anyone else with an ego as large and sensitive as mine (a small crowd that includes me, Abercrombie, Newton and a few Norwegian supermodels), but the true draw of this conference is not the crowds or the adoration.  It's the fact that we get to come here and talk about a craft that we're in love with and fuss over the finest details of it in our never-ending duty to perfect what we do.

And because of that, I want to thank all that attended.  Not just my workshop, but all that attended the conference in general, all that came to the authors to get input on their writing, all that came to the agents to offer them great potential new writers, and all that came away, accepted or rejected, stronger for the experience.  These experiences will come back to you in a good way one day.

They certainly did for me.

Oh, and big, big thanks to all the people attending who made Tome of the Undergates a sold-out sensation from the Chapters booth!  It was a respectable number and enough people wanted them that they had to order more!  To that end, though, I understand there might be a few people who wanted their book signed who didn't get it signed.  Please, just email me and we'll work something out!

Keep in mind, though, that the lack of a bigger book stock meant that I had a few young ladies come up to me to ask them to sign something, anything. So I obliged.

Did I take pictures?

Baby, you know me.

See you next year!

O the Canadity!

Okay, guys, I'm leaving for Canada!  This blog will be totally unattended for, like, three days.  I'm putting a lot of responsibility in your hands by leaving you alone, but I trust you to handle it.

If you get in trouble, Mark Newton's blog is just down the street, so go there if you have an emergency.

If Joe Abercrombie comes a-callin', don't invite him in.  He can only come in if you invite him.  He may try to tempt you with toys and candy, but don't fall for it.  His teddy bears are stuffed with sin and his lollipops taste of lies.

And don't even think about throwing a wild party with the intent of becoming popular with the other bloggers that backfires and you ruin the blog with a bunch of zany antics that may or may not include stealing a zebra from the zoo and have to fix it before I get back and you use a lot of montages to do shit like brushing a heap of trash under the rug and then the hot girl you invited is tapping her foot and looking at you like "what do you think you're doing there, pal" and you thought she was stuck-up but it turns out she's actually pretty gentle and sweet and you get closer to one another and maybe learn a little bit about yourselves and then I get home and I'm like "well, I guess you did a good job but-WHAT IS THIS?" and you're all "oh my god," and then I surprise you with an unexpected twist by going "you guys made cookies!" and the movie ends with you writing "and it was the best summer ever" in your diary.

Because if you do that.

I will grind you into sausages.

'kay, bye bye for now!

The Sam Sykes Challenge

Did you see this?

I'm no stranger to challenges.  In fact, the only way I'll do most things is by challenge, up to and including paying for dinner.

Pat approached me (and a few other authors) with the notion of doing guest reviews awhile ago.  Unfortunately, he forgot to phrase it in the form of a challenge, so I was left to do it myself.  The details, sparse as they are, are in that there blog post wot I done linked.

And the big contestants are…

Confessions of a Shopaholic, by Sophie Kinsella

Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert

Twilight, by Stephenie Meyers.

Since I doubt Pat has the CHUTZPAH to bring his viewers to task like the beasts they are, I demand that you, the good people, settle this for us.  Which of the above is the one book I must read and review?  Which of the above is so chock full of girliness as to counteract the testosterone that pools beneath my feet?  Which one must I endure with more hate and anger than my greatest grandfather, Silas P. Sykes, endured in the trenches of Dubya Dubya One?

POST TO THIS BLOG WITH YOUR VOTE AND THY WILL SHALL BE DONE (assuming more people agreed with you than anyone else).  Vote now.  VOTE NOW OR I WILL MAKE YOU INTO PERFECT OVEN FRIES EVERY TIME.

And as to the fellow on there who challenged me to read Goodkind's Wizard's First Rule…

…accepted.

See you all in hell.

How to Be a Boring Wizard

Nerdraging is a pretty funny thing.  I don't usually do it over losing a game or something similar.  Rather, it's bad writing that gets me.  And usually, I'm pretty good about steering clear of games with distinctively bad writing.

Usually…

And then I picked up Castlevania: Lords of Shadow.

Note: this isn't a review of said game.  You can find a pretty apt one at Gametrailers.

Rather, the reviews of this game are what brings about my beef with it.  They praised the thunderous combat and warned me of the terrible platforming.  They were dead-on: both of these are present in spades.  What I feel a little betrayed by is the fact that many reviews talk about the writing as a selling point, as though the story of Gabriel's quest to resurrect his dead wife is particularly well-wrought and worthy of praise.

With voices like Patrick Stewart behind the project, one could certainly expect that.  And with Patrick Stewart, one can definitely count on the lines being well-delivered, but delivery and writing are two different things.

The writing of Lords of Shadow is pretty bad.  I mean, the plot isn't particularly out there or hard to follow: Gabriel is a dude from a religious order dedicated to connecting heaven and earth again and ending the reign of nightmare beasts plaguing humanity by killing the titular Lords, who are, indeed, shadowy.  Getting his dead wife back is a bonus.

I don't think simple plots are something to be avoided.  A plot that's difficult to follow is not necessarily deep and a plot that has a straightforward goal is not necessarily shallow.  The problem is, Lords of Shadow certainly is shallow.  The depth of a story comes from its writing elements, and this is where we can learn from it.

How To Make Magic Boring

Five Things I Hate About Lords of Shadow

1. Motives on Parade or "Hi, I'm Nancy.  My parents were murdered in front of my eyes, I'm on a quest to kill the evil lord and I like long walks on the beach."

Lords of Shadow has this hilarious tendency for characters to tell Gabriel everything about themselves within five minutes of meeting them.  I gather the temptation to do this is so that the story can be moved along, or to reveal something cool about the character.  The problem with this is twofold, though.

First of all, a character whose entire history and personality is learned within five minutes of meeting them is not an interesting character.  Why?  Because why bother going further?  We know everything now: their hopes, their dreams, their aspirations.  You can have a character's motives evolve, and straightforward motives that react and mutate according to the conflict are wonderful to read, but that rarely seems to happen.

And two, it's stupid. No one does that except people who should not be believed, which brings me to…

2. Lack of Ambiguity or "Liars?!  In my plot?!"

Gabriel believes everything he hears.  Gabriel believes everything people tell him.  Gabriel is rarely surprised by anything he sees.

A strange girl who rides a giant golem and talks in his brain?  Well, that's just fine.  A dude has just come out of nowhere claiming to be a renowned warrior?  Who would lie about that?  The dialogue between Gabriel and his companion Zobek, upon meeting each other, goes like this (paraphrased):

Zobek: Sup.

Gabriel: Sup.  Who you?

Zobek: Zobek.

Gabriel: Oh, right.

Zobek: Hey, do you need to kill the lords of shadow and bring back your dead wife?

Gabriel: How'd you know that?

Zobek: Prophecy.

Gabriel: Oh…yeah.  Hey, let's team up.

Zobek: Word.

I talked about this a little in my discussion of Col Buchanan's Farlander, but I cannot stand characters that are aware that they're in a story.  The idea of accepting everything that comes along makes me think the author just wanted to keep the story moving and couldn't waste time on a little characterization or depth.

Beyond that, it completely diminishes the idea of a fantastic world if everything is explained all the time and everyone believes it.  The Dark Lord isn't scary if someone comes up and tells you his entire life story and the hero buys it.  Magic isn't magical if there's nothing to weigh against it.  Which segues nicely into…

3. Boring Magic or "Harry Potter's Technical Manual"

The sense of wonder we get from a story is what we call worldbuilding.  It's not a thesis on the silk trade of a city nor an explanation of the alchemical processes in a mystic laxative; it's the character of the setting itself.  And we can only experience that character through the other characters.  If everything is explained, detailed and discussed prior to the experience, the reader has no tension and has no incentive to keep going.

In Lords of Shadow, there is a place called Oblivion Lake that Gabriel must go to.  Why?  The elder god Pan explains it: "You seek to talk to the spirit world.  The quickest way to reach it is to die.  Go to Oblivion Lake, Gabriel, and you will find at least one way."

…nah, I'm bullshitting you.  I wrote that.  The actual line of dialogue is: "Go to Oblivion Lake, where the dead can contact the living, and you will find your slain wife."

…and that's exactly what you do.

Wonder comes from tension.  Tension comes from uncertainty.  Unless…

4. Not Saying All the Wrong Things or "Here is an Ancient City.  Climb over it to get to the plot."

Lords of Shadows' opening act takes place in a ruined city of magic and wonder that was destroyed when an epic battle raged between the invading Lycans with their troll and goblin lackeys and the mighty Titans of War created by the city's mages to defend them.

Where did the Lycans come from?  If the city was a product of magic and glory, where is the evidence of that?  What is the significance of the blank-eyed statues of women everywhere?  Why do the Lycans settle here instead of moving on?  What is their connection to the trolls and the goblins that also infest the city?

All these questions and more…are never answered.

This may sound contrary to my complaint of everything being explained, but it isn't.  A world full of mystery is enticing, but if the mystery is never at least partly solved, then it's just a big tease.  We want to learn more about the world, we just don't want it all laid out in front of us with no effort on our part.  Becoming invested in a world predisposes an audience to becoming invested in the characters that inhabit and vice-versa.  It's a marvelous symbiosis that works extremely well and isn't actually all that hard to pull off.

Exploration and explanation are two different things and Lords of Shadow has the emphasis on the latter.

And finally…

5. The Treadmill Effect or "When faced with a city of wonder, the ideal response is not 'buh.'"

Gabriel is boring.

There's no getting around that.  There is nothing remotely interesting about him.  Your investment in him as a player is only that he is the character you are controlling.  He does not move the plot, the plot moves around him.  This basically summarizes the Treadmill Effect: the character is merely running along a treadmill, doing nothing, as the world glides by him.

Now, by virtue of being the main character, he has to be accessible to the audience and one of the best ways to do this is to make him at least a little naive, confused or just plain dumb.  This means that everything is new to him and we get to learn along with him.  A jaded veteran isn't an ideal character since he's been around enough to see the stuff we're seeing and already be bored with it.  But the opposite, a character with too little experience, is also stupid because he accepts everything at a glance and there is no conflict between him and the world and both characters are stunted for it.

The Straight Man is not necessarily the Boring Man.  A character can be the guy that the world bounces off of, but the dents should be noticeable.  You cannot live in a world of blood and darkness and readily accept everything you see as truth.  It's just not interesting.

Now, to be totally fair, I'm barely a fourth of the way through Lords of Shadow. I intend to finish it (though maybe after I get Enslaved: Odyssey to the West), and if these things are altered, I'll be happy to report where my disappointments were remedied.

But it's not a good start.

It Came from the Mailbag

Bored today.

Let's take a look at my inbox and see if I can't get a good blog post about of it.

Sarah, of Missouri, writes…

I notice you tend to talk about and hang around Leanna Renee Hieber a lot.  She's one of my favorite authors!  Is she as great in person?

It's true, I do talk about Ms. Hieber with an almost suspicious amount of zeal.  The truth behind this is somewhat complicated, though.  It is true that, since I met her at Comicon, she has been probably my best friend in the publishing world and we talk about many things that are considered gauche to discuss in decent company.  Fortunately, since we are both distinctly indecent, we discuss everything from critics to sales to future hitlists.  Yes, she is a great person to know.

…but at what cost?

See, every month or so, I get a phone call.  It is not Leanna Renee Hieber on the line–or rather, it is, she just refuses to acknowledge that as her name.  Instead, she insists that she be referred to by her rapper name "Lee Lee Hiebz."  Sorry, Ambassador Lee Lee Hiebz.  Asking what country she represents or, indeed, whether or not she is intoxicated at the time of the call is met with profuse/obtuse swearing.  The only option is to sit back and listen as she begins to recite a rap song, always entitled 'I Always Hated Winnie the Pooh' and always, always consisting of lyrics profoundly, specifically and oftentimes gratuitously critical of Egypt.

The length of the song varies (her record is fourteen minutes, twelve seconds), but toward the end of it, the tempo withers, the words become garbled and the lyrics eventually degenerate into soft, gentle sobbing.  This tends to last for much longer as she recites every grievance she has with the listener before absolving them and assuring them that she is "definitely not the kind of woman you want in a sidecar."  She then waits for a moment and, in that time, you are expected to thank her for the rap before she hangs up.

It's a little weird, but she always sends a muffin basket the next day, so I guess it's okay.

JCrew4U writes…

I've been wanting to get my work published for awhile.  Can you tell me a little about SFWA and if they can help me?

In fact, I can!

But they can't.

You actually have to be published before you join SFWA, as it's one of the requirements.  I can tell you what SFWA does for a writer, though.  As you know, they do charge a membership fee.  And, according to the membership guidelines, this is for upkeep, benefits and the things usually associated with maintaining and operating an association.  This is what they'd have you think.

Don't you believe it.

In fact, all the money goes to its current president, John Scalzi.  Well, let me rephrase–the way I said it makes it sound like he's robbing members blind.  In fact, all the money goes to the training, conditioning and feeding of its current president, John Scalzi.  See, while the world of writers may put up a lot of signs suggesting that we are civilized, as one of the world's oldest professions, we continue to settle matters internally through one of the oldest means.

Everything from booth space at conventions to signing schedules to font is decided by brute force.  Whether it's against the convention organizer, the bookstore owner, the publisher, the author or the author's mother, the president of SFWA represents his members' best interests by fighting and sometimes bleeding in the arena.  John Scalzi, in effect, speaks for all of us with his two fists, whom, when he is wearing his "business pants," are to be referred to as "Mavis" and "The Wheels of Industry," respectively.

Most organizations still abide by the rule of the pin, in that the quicker John Scalzi can pin another man, the more booth space or panel time we get.  As we've suffered no shortage of that, one can surmise that John Scalzi is probably the strongest fighter of our day.  Allegations of his fighting/riding dirty are completely unfounded, as the last two lawyers with two black eyes will testify.

I hope this helps, as I could be disbarred for sharing this information.

Jeremy writes…

How do you feel about being compared to Joe Abercrombie?

It's not a bad feeling, but it's a little off the mark.  People are always suggesting that one writer writes like another writer or some such rot.  The truth of the matter is that I am Joe Abercrombie.

See, there are only about six or seven authors per genre that work round-the-clock to produce hundreds of novels per year.  This used to be the unapologetic case, but around 1983, readers began to complain that every book began to run together.  Thusly, pen names were invented and circulated throughout the industry, even though the practices are still the same.

Joe Abercrombie, Sam Sykes, Brent Weeks, Scott Lynch, Sherrilyn Kenyon and Alistair Reynolds are actually written by one mild-mannered accountant named Kevin Mourney of Algona, Iowa.  To maintain the illusion of multiplicity, various people were kidnapped off the streets of various backwater cities and told to act like the other authors, up to and including accent memorization, familial lineages and noticeable diseases.

After putting in twenty years on "the circuit," the publisher releases an announcement that "the writer" is retiring and the actor representing the writer is free to go back to his family, who should still be alive and well…assuming the actor did everything the publisher told him to.

Anyway, that's it for today!  Keep writing those messages so I can keep making blogs!

Updates, Updates, Updates!

A lot is happening in the world of Sam Sykes!  And if you currently aren't the young lady who has been staring through my bedroom window for the past week, tapping on the glass and murmuring "ritualoffleshritualoffleshritualofflesh," you'd have no idea what was happening!  But let this blog post illuminate your darkened cortexes and massage your stress lobes.

Appearances in October (all information as to location and times are in the links)!

I will be at the RinCon Games in Tucson this upcoming weekend!  Copies of Tome of the Undergates will be sold there and I will sign the piss out of them. If you buy a copy without piss, though, I'll still sign it!

The Surrey International Writer's Conference is next on October 22-24th! You may remember my blog post about it, all that information still holds true.  But I must warn you, friends, while I'm beyond elated to chat writing with you as much as you damn well please, I'm not going to be around on the 24th because…

I'll be at the Poisoned Pen with several other authors, including my main man, James A. Owen, at 2 PM!  We'll all be happy to talk shop and skeedaddle with you (assuming you bring both skee and daddle).

And then, finally, I will be at the World Fantasy Con, October 28-31st! Come chill with me whenever you please, but do not talk to me when I am battling Blake Charlton or Peter V. Brett.  This is for your safety, as we will all have chainsaws and shotguns.

Interviews!

I Answered Eight Shoddy Questions for a doubting SFFNews in which I discuss fantasy, my books and the dreaded koala scourge of Australia!  You can also see a man named Tubamaster defend my book!  Do you dare doubt the Tubamaster?

Also, if you've ever wanted to hear the melodious screech of my voice, I did a Podcast for SFSignal along with John Ottinger and Aidan Moher.  We discuss everything from moral ambiguity to Brent Weeks' sister!

Sales!

Tome of the Undergates was just recently sold to Turkey, courtesy of my very fine agent, Heather Baror!  If you are Turkish and have been dying to read this book in your native tongue, your wait is…almost over.  I mean, we still got to get it published and all.  But I mean, there you go!

I'm actually quite interested in the SF/F scene in Turkey.  Is it big?  Are you Turkish?  Can you answer that?  Please do, if so!

Salad!

I am about to eat one right now.

Black Halo!

Excerpts and cover art coming soon!

Did that answer everything?  I hope so.  If not, please take up a spot next to the girl at my window.