K.R. Gastreich's Blog, page 40
April 23, 2012
Swords, Stays and Sesame Ice Cream
Please join us in welcoming this week's guest, Alison Goodman. Alison's most recent novel is EONA which is the sequel to EON (aka The Two Pearls of Wisdom) and the conclusion of the EON duology. EON won the 2008 Aurealis Award for Best Fantasy Novel, and recently it was listed as a 2010 American Library Association Best Young Adult Book, a James Tiptree Jr. Award Honour Book and a C.B.C.A Notable Book.
Alison's first novel was Singing The Dogstar Blues, a science-fiction comedy thriller, which won an Aurealis Award for Best Young Adult Novel, and was listed as a C.B.C..A. Notable Book and an A.L.A. Best Young Adult book of 2004. It has recently been re-jacketed and re-released in Australia. Her second novel, Killing the Rabbit, is a crime/thriller for adults published in the U.S. by Bantam Books and shortlisted for the Davitt Award.
I can now say with authority that a boned short stay – a kind of early 19th century corset – is not very comfortable. Especially when you are dancing a quadrille for thirty minutes with a lot of skipping and twirling and whooping involved. I know this because I have just returned from four days of living in Regency dresses and bonnets and the aforesaid stays, learning how to dance like Jane Austen. That’s me in the photo in full Regency regalia at the Jane Austen Festival Australia. It was all in aid of research for my new historical/adventure/supernatural trilogy set in the early 1800’s, and it is only the start of my sensory research journey.
Whenever I start a new series, I try and recreate – as closely as possible – some of the skills and experiences my characters would have in my novels. I call it experiential research, although a good friend jokingly calls it method writing. I always hit the books and primary resources as well – that is an essential part of research – but to create a full and rich sensory world for my reader, I also try to walk for a while in my main character’s shoes. Literally.
For my fantasy duology, EON and EONA, I learned how to fight with Chinese swords. I wasn’t very good at it, but after taking some lessons I was able to describe how it felt to hit something with a blade at full force, when and where the tendons and muscles of a body were strained during a fight, and how the weight of each sword affected the swings and blocks. All of that information appears in the battle scenes in EONand EONA, bringing the reader closer to the experience of fighting with two long curved swords.
Another part of my experiential research process is to gather as much sensory information as I can from a place that is similar to the world that I am creating in my novels. I haven’t always been able to do it – travel is expensive – but when I can, I jump at the opportunity.
For EON and EONA, I was lucky enough to be able to visit Japan, Hong Kong and Singapore. I did the usual research visits to museums and libraries. But I also walked down dark, narrow streets strung with flags and washing, and listened to snatches of conversation. I visited markets and smelled unusual fruits and spices, and touched lengths of smooth silk that slid through my fingers. I tasted delicious doughy buns filled with red bean paste, and ate delicate black sesame ice cream in an old Geisha laneway lit with red lamps. Everything that I experienced got logged in my internal bank of sensory information, and a lot of it made its way into my descriptions of the Imperial City and the villages in EON and EONA.
Every time I sit down to write, it is one of my aims to take my readers deep into my imaginary world through their five senses. When I read a book, I love to feel like I am walking alongside the main character, living every moment in a place that is bright with sights and sounds, smells and textures and, of course, wonderful tastes. That is what I hope to achieve in my own novels.
For my new series, I am off to England, and on the day this blog is posted, I will be in Mayfair where my main character, Lady Helen, lives in a Georgian townhouse in the heart of fashionable Regency London. In fact, I will be staying at her exact address: 12 Half Moon Street. The townhouse is now part of a hotel, and so I will be able to wake up in a room much like her own, wander the streets where she would have shopped and promenaded, and see some of the sights she would have seen; places like Rotten Row in Hyde Park and Regent Street. Of course, 21st century London is not the same as 19thcentury London, but there are enough traces of that mad and grand time left to jump-start my imagination.
So when Lady Helen finally makes her debut on to the bookshelves, I invite you to live a while in Regency London. Smell the smoky coal on the air, taste the nutty char of roast chestnuts, and feel the tight hold of your stays as you dance a quadrille opposite a man who may just be a little more demonic than you expected.
Alison lives in Melbourne, Australia, with her husband, Ron, and their Machiavellian Jack Russell Terrier, Xander. She was a D.J. O'Hearn Memorial Fellow at Melbourne University, holds a Master of Arts, and has taught creative writing at postgraduate level. Alison is currently working on a new fiction series, and professionally mentors a small number of writers on their book-length projects.
For news about the Lady Helen series, keep an eye on Alison’s website at www.alisongoodman.com.au, or her Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/AlisonGoodman...
The Firebird paperback edition of the
Alison's first novel was Singing The Dogstar Blues, a science-fiction comedy thriller, which won an Aurealis Award for Best Young Adult Novel, and was listed as a C.B.C..A. Notable Book and an A.L.A. Best Young Adult book of 2004. It has recently been re-jacketed and re-released in Australia. Her second novel, Killing the Rabbit, is a crime/thriller for adults published in the U.S. by Bantam Books and shortlisted for the Davitt Award.
I can now say with authority that a boned short stay – a kind of early 19th century corset – is not very comfortable. Especially when you are dancing a quadrille for thirty minutes with a lot of skipping and twirling and whooping involved. I know this because I have just returned from four days of living in Regency dresses and bonnets and the aforesaid stays, learning how to dance like Jane Austen. That’s me in the photo in full Regency regalia at the Jane Austen Festival Australia. It was all in aid of research for my new historical/adventure/supernatural trilogy set in the early 1800’s, and it is only the start of my sensory research journey.
Whenever I start a new series, I try and recreate – as closely as possible – some of the skills and experiences my characters would have in my novels. I call it experiential research, although a good friend jokingly calls it method writing. I always hit the books and primary resources as well – that is an essential part of research – but to create a full and rich sensory world for my reader, I also try to walk for a while in my main character’s shoes. Literally.
For my fantasy duology, EON and EONA, I learned how to fight with Chinese swords. I wasn’t very good at it, but after taking some lessons I was able to describe how it felt to hit something with a blade at full force, when and where the tendons and muscles of a body were strained during a fight, and how the weight of each sword affected the swings and blocks. All of that information appears in the battle scenes in EONand EONA, bringing the reader closer to the experience of fighting with two long curved swords.Another part of my experiential research process is to gather as much sensory information as I can from a place that is similar to the world that I am creating in my novels. I haven’t always been able to do it – travel is expensive – but when I can, I jump at the opportunity.
For EON and EONA, I was lucky enough to be able to visit Japan, Hong Kong and Singapore. I did the usual research visits to museums and libraries. But I also walked down dark, narrow streets strung with flags and washing, and listened to snatches of conversation. I visited markets and smelled unusual fruits and spices, and touched lengths of smooth silk that slid through my fingers. I tasted delicious doughy buns filled with red bean paste, and ate delicate black sesame ice cream in an old Geisha laneway lit with red lamps. Everything that I experienced got logged in my internal bank of sensory information, and a lot of it made its way into my descriptions of the Imperial City and the villages in EON and EONA. Every time I sit down to write, it is one of my aims to take my readers deep into my imaginary world through their five senses. When I read a book, I love to feel like I am walking alongside the main character, living every moment in a place that is bright with sights and sounds, smells and textures and, of course, wonderful tastes. That is what I hope to achieve in my own novels.
For my new series, I am off to England, and on the day this blog is posted, I will be in Mayfair where my main character, Lady Helen, lives in a Georgian townhouse in the heart of fashionable Regency London. In fact, I will be staying at her exact address: 12 Half Moon Street. The townhouse is now part of a hotel, and so I will be able to wake up in a room much like her own, wander the streets where she would have shopped and promenaded, and see some of the sights she would have seen; places like Rotten Row in Hyde Park and Regent Street. Of course, 21st century London is not the same as 19thcentury London, but there are enough traces of that mad and grand time left to jump-start my imagination.
So when Lady Helen finally makes her debut on to the bookshelves, I invite you to live a while in Regency London. Smell the smoky coal on the air, taste the nutty char of roast chestnuts, and feel the tight hold of your stays as you dance a quadrille opposite a man who may just be a little more demonic than you expected.
Alison lives in Melbourne, Australia, with her husband, Ron, and their Machiavellian Jack Russell Terrier, Xander. She was a D.J. O'Hearn Memorial Fellow at Melbourne University, holds a Master of Arts, and has taught creative writing at postgraduate level. Alison is currently working on a new fiction series, and professionally mentors a small number of writers on their book-length projects.
For news about the Lady Helen series, keep an eye on Alison’s website at www.alisongoodman.com.au, or her Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/AlisonGoodman...
The Firebird paperback edition of the
April 17, 2012
I'm Late! I'm Late!
"… nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, `Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!' (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat- pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge."
As you may have noticed, gentle readers, this week’s Heroines of Fantasy post is up late. I didn’t remember until yesterday, when I was chatting on the phone with Terri-Lynne and running late to my office hours, that I had also fallen behind in putting together this week’s post. Oops!
Fortunately, my tardiness gave me an excellent topic for this week’s post. As much as we dislike tardiness, whether we are embarrassed for being late or we are frustrated by someone else’s lack of time management, the raw reality is that inevitably, at some point, we fall behind. We lose track of time. Or, some just choose not to follow the social constraints and obligations that require us to be timely. And sometimes, missing that plane that went down in the harbor or for work on September 11, 2001 could even save our lives.
In literature, tardiness causes all sorts of delicious problems. What if the White Rabbit had not been late? Would Alice still have discovered the rabbit hole? What if Frodo and Sam had reached Mt. Doom after the defeat of Aragorn and the last army of men? Late reinforcements to a key battle or the arrival of a messenger just in the nick of time could make or break a story, yet we don’t often pause to consider the full impact of tardiness on the problem at hand.
Being late causes all sorts of other ancillary problems. If a character is perennially late, whether to a battle or a ball, his or her peers must make hard choices about whether or not to depend on or trust that character, and their decision could determine the fate of individuals or kingdoms. And why is that character (or legion) late? Is he a drunk or did he sleep late? Was he attacked on the road by bandits or was he eaten by wild dogs? Did the commander refuse to dispatch the army or were they delayed by bad weather or rough seas? And if that character is late for an important rendezvous, what happens next? Do the other characters continue on without him, or do they delay to wait for him, and how does that decision affect the rest of the events in the story?
It’s a small thing, being late, but timing is everything in fiction, as in life. What examples can you recall of instances in which tardiness significantly affects a story? Discuss!
Meanwhile, I’m off to review my calendar… and locate my watch!
~Kim Vandervort
April 9, 2012
Eternal Forest
This post is a follow up to TheLandscape of my Imagination, and part of the Andrews Forest Writers Residency series begun on my blog for Eolyn during May, June and July of 2011. My decision to revisit the topic of forest and landscape in fantasy is in part a recognition of Earth Day, coming up on April 22.
***
This thousand-year-old oak resides in the forest
that inspired the South Woods.Last night we went to see the movie The Hunger Games, in which twenty-four teenagers are chosen at random and obligated to kill each other – or die themselves – while struggling to survive in a mountain wilderness.
I could devote this blog to yet another analysis of the strengths and weaknesses of the film, but there's plenty of that going on elsewhere in the internet. So for the moment I'd rather talk about wilderness, how by the end of the film Hunger Games, I was contemplating, once again, the importance of setting in science fiction and fantasy.
The presence of wilderness, and particularly forested wilderness, is often considered a standard trope for classic epic fantasy. Anything written in the tradition of Tolkien is expected to have at least one uncharted forest, beautiful and deadly, filled with magical creatures and dangerous mysteries.
I've often thought of modern fantasy, and especially science fiction, as eschewing this trope and being bound more to the urban landscape of a contemporary-style world. Yet last night The Hunger Games challenged this impression. After all, the most intense part of Kat's journey is undertaken in the deep forest. And when you think about it, hers is not the only example of forest in modern fantasy and science fiction.
Where would fantasy be without the Ents?In the Twilight series, the vampire Edward reveals his sparkly nature to Bella in a shaft of light breaking through ancient trees. J.K. Rowling built Harry Potter's beloved academy of magick not in downtown London, but in a scarcely populated rural area, with a healthy forest in the backyard. In addition, the forest provides Harry refuge in the days before his final confrontation with Voldemort. And of course, one must only mention the word Avatar to inspire images of Home Tree, along with the vast and exhuberant ecosystem in which it lives.
If these titans of modern fantasy are any indication, the landscapes of our imagination have not been as deforested as I once thought. The deep woods are still a place of exploration, mystery, adventure and danger. Whether or not we ourselves have been to a forest, we like to see our characters go into that living maze, and we like to see them come out awed by beauty, harried by experience and transformed by truth.
During my week at Andrews Experimental Forest last summer, I had the opportunity to contemplate the meaning of forest from both a biological and literary standpoint. I came to the conclusion – admittedly based more on personal experience than statistical data – that the encounter with wilderness can have a unique and important impact on the imagination. Old growth forest, in particular, stretches our understanding of reality, inspires images of the fantastic, and challenges us to relate to the world and to each other in ways that are both novel and unexpected.
Andrews Experimental Forest: home to one
of the last remnants of Old Growth in Oregon.
As a fantasy author, I've discovered I have a special gift. When I write stories, I can bring the experience of being in the forest to life for my reader.
But no matter how immersed readers feel in Eolyn's forested world, it is impossible for me to capture the full essence of Forest with words.
More importantly, whatever small piece of wilderness I've been able to bring to my readers has depended entirely on the fact that there are still old growth forests out there that have welcomed me into their verdant depths, then sent me back to my computer with new ideas and fresh plots.
So as Earth Day approaches, I am going to ask something of you, fantasy readers and fans. I ask you to remember Old Growth Forest. This is not just a place in the pages of our books – not yet, anyway. Forest is a living entity in our world, an active partaker in the art of storytelling. And it is under threat, in the tropics, in the temperate latitudes, in the great expanses of the boreal north.
Educate yourselves about the reasons we are losing old growth forest. Learn what you can do to help, and do it. Our stories are not born out of thin air; they are part and parcel of the organic world in which we live. So if you like your fantasy worlds to have ancient forests, make sure the real world you live in has them as well.
- posted by Karin Rita Gastreich
The forests of Middle Earth were inspired by old growth European
deciduous forests of which only small pieces
remain, like this one in Montenegro.
***
This thousand-year-old oak resides in the forestthat inspired the South Woods.Last night we went to see the movie The Hunger Games, in which twenty-four teenagers are chosen at random and obligated to kill each other – or die themselves – while struggling to survive in a mountain wilderness.
I could devote this blog to yet another analysis of the strengths and weaknesses of the film, but there's plenty of that going on elsewhere in the internet. So for the moment I'd rather talk about wilderness, how by the end of the film Hunger Games, I was contemplating, once again, the importance of setting in science fiction and fantasy.
The presence of wilderness, and particularly forested wilderness, is often considered a standard trope for classic epic fantasy. Anything written in the tradition of Tolkien is expected to have at least one uncharted forest, beautiful and deadly, filled with magical creatures and dangerous mysteries.
I've often thought of modern fantasy, and especially science fiction, as eschewing this trope and being bound more to the urban landscape of a contemporary-style world. Yet last night The Hunger Games challenged this impression. After all, the most intense part of Kat's journey is undertaken in the deep forest. And when you think about it, hers is not the only example of forest in modern fantasy and science fiction.
Where would fantasy be without the Ents?In the Twilight series, the vampire Edward reveals his sparkly nature to Bella in a shaft of light breaking through ancient trees. J.K. Rowling built Harry Potter's beloved academy of magick not in downtown London, but in a scarcely populated rural area, with a healthy forest in the backyard. In addition, the forest provides Harry refuge in the days before his final confrontation with Voldemort. And of course, one must only mention the word Avatar to inspire images of Home Tree, along with the vast and exhuberant ecosystem in which it lives. If these titans of modern fantasy are any indication, the landscapes of our imagination have not been as deforested as I once thought. The deep woods are still a place of exploration, mystery, adventure and danger. Whether or not we ourselves have been to a forest, we like to see our characters go into that living maze, and we like to see them come out awed by beauty, harried by experience and transformed by truth.
During my week at Andrews Experimental Forest last summer, I had the opportunity to contemplate the meaning of forest from both a biological and literary standpoint. I came to the conclusion – admittedly based more on personal experience than statistical data – that the encounter with wilderness can have a unique and important impact on the imagination. Old growth forest, in particular, stretches our understanding of reality, inspires images of the fantastic, and challenges us to relate to the world and to each other in ways that are both novel and unexpected.
Andrews Experimental Forest: home to oneof the last remnants of Old Growth in Oregon.
As a fantasy author, I've discovered I have a special gift. When I write stories, I can bring the experience of being in the forest to life for my reader.
But no matter how immersed readers feel in Eolyn's forested world, it is impossible for me to capture the full essence of Forest with words.
More importantly, whatever small piece of wilderness I've been able to bring to my readers has depended entirely on the fact that there are still old growth forests out there that have welcomed me into their verdant depths, then sent me back to my computer with new ideas and fresh plots.
So as Earth Day approaches, I am going to ask something of you, fantasy readers and fans. I ask you to remember Old Growth Forest. This is not just a place in the pages of our books – not yet, anyway. Forest is a living entity in our world, an active partaker in the art of storytelling. And it is under threat, in the tropics, in the temperate latitudes, in the great expanses of the boreal north.
Educate yourselves about the reasons we are losing old growth forest. Learn what you can do to help, and do it. Our stories are not born out of thin air; they are part and parcel of the organic world in which we live. So if you like your fantasy worlds to have ancient forests, make sure the real world you live in has them as well.
- posted by Karin Rita Gastreich
The forests of Middle Earth were inspired by old growth Europeandeciduous forests of which only small pieces
remain, like this one in Montenegro.
April 2, 2012
The Written World
In October of 2006, I attended the Viable Paradise Workshop for Science Fiction and Fantasy writers. I knew it would change my life as a writer, but I had no idea just how tremendously it would do so. I had attended workshops before; in fact, I'd become a devoted "dollbaby" years earlier, through a now-defunct workshop called Side Trips for Women. While it had opened up my solitary world of writing in a void, it wasn't life-changing. Having writer-friends was a huge thing for me, but writing fantasy among mainstream fiction writers is like being the duck in a room full of chickens. We all had feathers, but we were different birds.
Then came Viable Paradise*.
I was an X-man, it being the tenth year of the workshop. The mentors that year were Teresa Neilsen Hayden, Patrick Neilsen Hayden, James Macdonald, Debra Doyle, Steven Gould, Laura Mixon, James Patrick Kelly, and Cory Doctorow. Quite the lineup of superstars in the field--one and all. That was also the year Steve's Jumper was being made into a movie, and Cory was winning, or had already won, every honor his peers had to bestow. I was nervous, but excited. Not just a week with such mentors, but with peers! Fantasy and science fiction writing peers.
It made all the difference. I was a duck with other ducks! I didn't have to explain why worldbuilding was necessary to the story, or that suspension of belief is part of the game. We truly were birds of a feather. The friends I made there remain dear to me now. Bonds made in battle are the bonds that stay strong--yes, I said battle. Not as foes, but as comrades; for something, not against anything.
That path continued unwinding in new and amazing ways. Because of VP, I met sister in Heroines of Fantasy, Kim Vandervort (who attended VP the year after I did.) And because I met Kim, I became aware of Hadley Rille Books. And because of her experience with Eric Reynolds, I knew HRB was the place for me. I wrote Finder knowing I would send it to Hadley Rille. I did. Eric accepted it. It was a wild ride! And in November of 2010, my book released out into the world.
Further along that path, and several months after releasing my book with HRB, Eric asked if I would be one of his editors. I'd already sub-edited four novels for him. "Let's make this official," he said, and we did. I've been one of the fantasy editors with Hadley Rille books for a little over a year. My first solo edit, The Poets of Pevana, releases in June, 2012. I have two more books I'm helping into the world for 2012; and my second novel, A Time Never Lived releases in May. Busy me.
I've sat on panels at conventions. I've done book signings, and spoken to writers' groups. I've pulled some excellent novels out of the slush, and had to reject more than I'd like to admit. I've met some of my favorite authors, and after blathering nonsensically, was treated as a peer, not a wannabe. I am imbued with all sorts of writerly goodness. And, as it all started with Viable Paradise, it's only fitting that it comes full circle--I'll be heading up to Martha's Vineyard this October to work as staff for the workshop, carting, cooking, and generally working myself to exhaustion, and I will love every moment of it.
The written world is an amazing one, but one that requires action. It doesn't just happen, but it can feel that way when the right steps are taken. And take them you must! My journey certainly isn't typical. I don't claim to be a superstar of the genre; but I do have a place in my own small corner of this written world, and it's exactly where I want to be.
How about you? Are you there yet? Are you ready to leap onto your path? It begins when you take that first step. Ready. Set. Go.
*Viable Paradise is now open for submissions, and closes at the end of June.
Then came Viable Paradise*. I was an X-man, it being the tenth year of the workshop. The mentors that year were Teresa Neilsen Hayden, Patrick Neilsen Hayden, James Macdonald, Debra Doyle, Steven Gould, Laura Mixon, James Patrick Kelly, and Cory Doctorow. Quite the lineup of superstars in the field--one and all. That was also the year Steve's Jumper was being made into a movie, and Cory was winning, or had already won, every honor his peers had to bestow. I was nervous, but excited. Not just a week with such mentors, but with peers! Fantasy and science fiction writing peers.
It made all the difference. I was a duck with other ducks! I didn't have to explain why worldbuilding was necessary to the story, or that suspension of belief is part of the game. We truly were birds of a feather. The friends I made there remain dear to me now. Bonds made in battle are the bonds that stay strong--yes, I said battle. Not as foes, but as comrades; for something, not against anything. That path continued unwinding in new and amazing ways. Because of VP, I met sister in Heroines of Fantasy, Kim Vandervort (who attended VP the year after I did.) And because I met Kim, I became aware of Hadley Rille Books. And because of her experience with Eric Reynolds, I knew HRB was the place for me. I wrote Finder knowing I would send it to Hadley Rille. I did. Eric accepted it. It was a wild ride! And in November of 2010, my book released out into the world.
Further along that path, and several months after releasing my book with HRB, Eric asked if I would be one of his editors. I'd already sub-edited four novels for him. "Let's make this official," he said, and we did. I've been one of the fantasy editors with Hadley Rille books for a little over a year. My first solo edit, The Poets of Pevana, releases in June, 2012. I have two more books I'm helping into the world for 2012; and my second novel, A Time Never Lived releases in May. Busy me.
I've sat on panels at conventions. I've done book signings, and spoken to writers' groups. I've pulled some excellent novels out of the slush, and had to reject more than I'd like to admit. I've met some of my favorite authors, and after blathering nonsensically, was treated as a peer, not a wannabe. I am imbued with all sorts of writerly goodness. And, as it all started with Viable Paradise, it's only fitting that it comes full circle--I'll be heading up to Martha's Vineyard this October to work as staff for the workshop, carting, cooking, and generally working myself to exhaustion, and I will love every moment of it.
The written world is an amazing one, but one that requires action. It doesn't just happen, but it can feel that way when the right steps are taken. And take them you must! My journey certainly isn't typical. I don't claim to be a superstar of the genre; but I do have a place in my own small corner of this written world, and it's exactly where I want to be.How about you? Are you there yet? Are you ready to leap onto your path? It begins when you take that first step. Ready. Set. Go.
*Viable Paradise is now open for submissions, and closes at the end of June.
March 26, 2012
Sensible Clothing for Heroines
This week's guest on Heroines of Fantasy is author, Sandra McDonald. Kim's post last week sparked some thoughts for her--and oh! What thoughts! I'll let her take it from here.
Back in college, my friend Tony had a poster on his dorm room wall of a scantily clad fantasy-novel babe, all chainmail and chains, her improbably beautiful golden hair a halo around her come-hither expression, lush red lips, and big round tits. She also was wielding a giant phallic sword. That poster was one of the reasons I wouldn't date him. You can see similar images just by typing "fantasy woman warriors" into your nearest image search engine. Regarding Kim Vandervort's recent post about scantily-clad cheerleaders, athletes and convention fans, I think it's important to realize that many real-life women and female characters are still trapped on Tony's wall, adorned and posed to please the male gaze. They just don't know it.
A few weeks later, I attended a Margaret Atwood reading at my local university. On the way to the correct auditorium I passed through the lobby of a national dance competition. Girls of all ages flitted about in glitter, heavy make-up and tight, often skimpy uniforms. Power? Confidence? Sure, they had it. But real power and real confidence, in this brave new age of the twentifirst century, would manifest in being able to compete without the feminine trappings. Not being trapped, as they were, in an athletic version of Toddlers and Tiaras.
That this dance contest was happening adjacent to Margaret Atwood's talk – Margaret Atwood, whose dystopian vision of The Handmaid's Tale is coming true with ever- increasing restrictions in our nation regarding women's reproductive rights – ah, cruel irony.
Why was Princess Leia Organa, a member of the Imperial Senate and hero of the resistance, a woman who had survived torture on the Death Star, thrown into a skimpy metal bikini for Return of the Jedi? It wasn't to show her power or intelligence. It wasn't part of her cunning plan to rescue Han Solo—the plot required her to fail. She was stripped of her sensible, would-be-rescuer costume in order to make the fanboys drool. Carrie Fischer is said to have not enjoyed filming those scenes, duct-taped as she was into metal, rubber and leather, nearly naked on a set crowded with men. I certainly didn't enjoy seeing it as a ten-foot wide poster in my local movie theater. This is what genre women have to look like, that poster screamed. That Leia strangles Jabba with her chain is a great moment, but the bikini itself was irrelevant to her success.
Jedi was the first step in my disenchantment with princesses, queens and warriors packaged up in prettiness and sensual costumes. I preferred Elizabeth Moon's The Deed of Paksenarrion and that great opening, with a young woman leaving home to join the army. (Check out the cover – there's a woman soldier for you!) Or Lois McMaster Bujold's Cordelia Naismith, battling the patriarchy in order to save her unborn, disabled baby. Or Nancy Kress's tales of Sleepers and Sleepless, Beggars in Spain, with Leisha Camden as a brainy heroine grappling with ethics. In fact, it took Kelly Link's awesome story Travels with the Snow Queen to lure me back into reading anything with "queen" in the title. Later I fell in love with Megan Whalen Turner's The Queen of Attolia, whose shocking punishment of a thief sets forth a story of redemption, transformation and love. Today I approach female characters in speculative fiction with a wary eye; I hope I write them in a balanced, sensible clothing kind of way.
Ugly women are feminine. Women who dress in sweatpants are feminine. Men who dress in women's clothing are feminine. Feminine is a set of behaviors associated with gender, but associated by who? Why? When my thirteen-year-old niece wears a midriff shirt with her underwear poking out, it's because she's been raised on a steady media diet of airbrushed bodies and faces, of a sexualized culture where looks must exceed talent. She doesn't burn her bra because she doesn't know she can. She doesn't know why she should. I need to take her to see Margaret Atwood.
It is my hope, in this brave new age of independent and digital publishing, that we'll embrace more definitions and examples of the feminine and move beyond The Warrior Babe. I hope that some day she can put down the phallus, don a sweater and some pants against the chill, and maybe even enjoy the novelty of flat shoes. But somewhere right now there's fanboy like Tony, tapping on his tablet in a dorm room. What do you think is on his wall?
Sandra McDonald is a former military officer and recovering Hollywood assistant. She is the author of five published books with two more on the way, and has more than fifty short stories in print. Her feminist, apocalyptic, gender-bending story Seven Sexy Cowboy Robots was recently named to the James A. Tiptree Award Honor List.
Back in college, my friend Tony had a poster on his dorm room wall of a scantily clad fantasy-novel babe, all chainmail and chains, her improbably beautiful golden hair a halo around her come-hither expression, lush red lips, and big round tits. She also was wielding a giant phallic sword. That poster was one of the reasons I wouldn't date him. You can see similar images just by typing "fantasy woman warriors" into your nearest image search engine. Regarding Kim Vandervort's recent post about scantily-clad cheerleaders, athletes and convention fans, I think it's important to realize that many real-life women and female characters are still trapped on Tony's wall, adorned and posed to please the male gaze. They just don't know it.A few weeks later, I attended a Margaret Atwood reading at my local university. On the way to the correct auditorium I passed through the lobby of a national dance competition. Girls of all ages flitted about in glitter, heavy make-up and tight, often skimpy uniforms. Power? Confidence? Sure, they had it. But real power and real confidence, in this brave new age of the twentifirst century, would manifest in being able to compete without the feminine trappings. Not being trapped, as they were, in an athletic version of Toddlers and Tiaras.
That this dance contest was happening adjacent to Margaret Atwood's talk – Margaret Atwood, whose dystopian vision of The Handmaid's Tale is coming true with ever- increasing restrictions in our nation regarding women's reproductive rights – ah, cruel irony.
Why was Princess Leia Organa, a member of the Imperial Senate and hero of the resistance, a woman who had survived torture on the Death Star, thrown into a skimpy metal bikini for Return of the Jedi? It wasn't to show her power or intelligence. It wasn't part of her cunning plan to rescue Han Solo—the plot required her to fail. She was stripped of her sensible, would-be-rescuer costume in order to make the fanboys drool. Carrie Fischer is said to have not enjoyed filming those scenes, duct-taped as she was into metal, rubber and leather, nearly naked on a set crowded with men. I certainly didn't enjoy seeing it as a ten-foot wide poster in my local movie theater. This is what genre women have to look like, that poster screamed. That Leia strangles Jabba with her chain is a great moment, but the bikini itself was irrelevant to her success.
Jedi was the first step in my disenchantment with princesses, queens and warriors packaged up in prettiness and sensual costumes. I preferred Elizabeth Moon's The Deed of Paksenarrion and that great opening, with a young woman leaving home to join the army. (Check out the cover – there's a woman soldier for you!) Or Lois McMaster Bujold's Cordelia Naismith, battling the patriarchy in order to save her unborn, disabled baby. Or Nancy Kress's tales of Sleepers and Sleepless, Beggars in Spain, with Leisha Camden as a brainy heroine grappling with ethics. In fact, it took Kelly Link's awesome story Travels with the Snow Queen to lure me back into reading anything with "queen" in the title. Later I fell in love with Megan Whalen Turner's The Queen of Attolia, whose shocking punishment of a thief sets forth a story of redemption, transformation and love. Today I approach female characters in speculative fiction with a wary eye; I hope I write them in a balanced, sensible clothing kind of way.
Ugly women are feminine. Women who dress in sweatpants are feminine. Men who dress in women's clothing are feminine. Feminine is a set of behaviors associated with gender, but associated by who? Why? When my thirteen-year-old niece wears a midriff shirt with her underwear poking out, it's because she's been raised on a steady media diet of airbrushed bodies and faces, of a sexualized culture where looks must exceed talent. She doesn't burn her bra because she doesn't know she can. She doesn't know why she should. I need to take her to see Margaret Atwood.It is my hope, in this brave new age of independent and digital publishing, that we'll embrace more definitions and examples of the feminine and move beyond The Warrior Babe. I hope that some day she can put down the phallus, don a sweater and some pants against the chill, and maybe even enjoy the novelty of flat shoes. But somewhere right now there's fanboy like Tony, tapping on his tablet in a dorm room. What do you think is on his wall?
Sandra McDonald is a former military officer and recovering Hollywood assistant. She is the author of five published books with two more on the way, and has more than fifty short stories in print. Her feminist, apocalyptic, gender-bending story Seven Sexy Cowboy Robots was recently named to the James A. Tiptree Award Honor List.
March 19, 2012
On Short Skirts and Big Swords: Modern Feminism and Fantasy
Yesterday I attended WonderCon for the first time, which turned out to be a "Comic-Con Lite," with fewer crowds, but the same geek camaraderie and creative energy as its big sister. The most intriguing aspect of this con, however, was not the actual con itself; it was the fact that, rather than have the Convention Center all to itself, WonderCon shared facilities with both a high school cheerleading competition and a girls' volleyball tournament. This was either poor planning on Anaheim's part or inspired, depending on one's perspective.
Suffice it to say, scantily-clad girls were in abundance yesterday. Whether they were dressed as Supergirl , Xena, or any number of half-dressed manga mavens or trotting around in tight, barely-there volleyball shorts and cheerleading uniforms, the half-naked women at the convention center yesterday outnumbered the men, and at times, as geek fanboys snapped photos of underage girls in sparkly cheerleading costumes and volleyball girls posed with R2-D2 for pics of their own, the lines between fandom and reality became curiously blurred.
When I arrived home last night and settled down with the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly (Game of Thrones, people! Get excited!) I came across an article about how Zoey Deschanel's New Girl has come under fire from feminists for her silly, spunky, gushy girliness, and how producers have responded by "toning down" the very thing that has many viewers in love with the show: title character Jess's combination of girlish innocence and silliness.
Cap this off with my near-constant questioning of how women are portrayed in fantasy art and on covers, and I found myself pondering the question: what does feminism mean in today's society? And what does it mean for the fantasy genre?
One thing is for certain: women and girls growing up in today's society are not practicing our mothers' feminism. We aren't burning bras, we're embracing them, particularly the sexy, lacy, push-up kind. And not because we have to, but because it's what we want. The cheerleaders, the volleyball girls and the bikini-clad woman warriors with swords aren't scantily-clad to satisfy the male gaze of our patriarchal society; the former wear short skirts and tight shorts because they can more successfully compete as athletes, and the latter walk the halls with all the confidence their super heroine personas inspire, a confidence I wish I had as I slump around in my sweatshirt and jeans. Jess of New Girl recently came under fire from feminist organizations because she's just so girly, to which the producers and star say, "so what?" Can't a woman be girly and a feminist? Is the bodice a constrictive symbol of male power if I choose to wear it?
This leads, inevitably, to how women are portrayed in modern fantasy. Yes, women in Martin's Game of Thrones are perceived by society as lacking power, but no one who crosses Cersei, Dany or Lady Stark would believe the truth of that statement. These women are fiercely protective of their own, tough as nails, and able to manipulate the subtleties of power in ways their men cannot. My Ki'leah from Song and Northern Queen prefers to wear dresses and do her hair, but they don't define who she is or how she governs. In fact, I would argue that women who present themselves as women in fantasy have more power because they are underestimated by both the men in their worlds and the readers themselves, whose preconceived notions of women in fantasy have been defined by the centuries of patriarchal expectations. One answer is to put swords in the hands of women, send them into battle, and call it power, but must women give up our very nature in order to gain power and be viewed as strong?
And where do men fit in? As I waited in line for the Snow White and the Huntsman panel (which I missed—argh!) I noticed a tremendous amount of men in line for the next panel, which was a sneak peek at the next Resident Evil movie. At the panel, I watched clips of teeny tiny Milla Jovovich kick major zombie ass—while men clapped and cheered. I was intrigued to discover that this video game-turned-movie franchise is ten years old, and RE's Alice is the only female action heroine to carry an entire movie franchise. When guys read my book, they tell me their favorite character is Britta, the female warrior. Clearly, men aren't threatened by women with power; so why do we continue to give them—and ourselves—a bad rap? Isn't it time to lay this particular argument to rest?
Like Princess Leia, who used her sexy slave costume to choke her captor and forever turned societal expectations of women in fantasy upside down—creating generations of fanboy believers in the process—I believe it's time for feminism to accept that yes, women want to be taken seriously and we want to be heard, but not at the cost of what makes us female. And not at the cost of men, either. People, it's time to bring balance to the Force.
by Kim Vandervort
Suffice it to say, scantily-clad girls were in abundance yesterday. Whether they were dressed as Supergirl , Xena, or any number of half-dressed manga mavens or trotting around in tight, barely-there volleyball shorts and cheerleading uniforms, the half-naked women at the convention center yesterday outnumbered the men, and at times, as geek fanboys snapped photos of underage girls in sparkly cheerleading costumes and volleyball girls posed with R2-D2 for pics of their own, the lines between fandom and reality became curiously blurred.
When I arrived home last night and settled down with the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly (Game of Thrones, people! Get excited!) I came across an article about how Zoey Deschanel's New Girl has come under fire from feminists for her silly, spunky, gushy girliness, and how producers have responded by "toning down" the very thing that has many viewers in love with the show: title character Jess's combination of girlish innocence and silliness.
Cap this off with my near-constant questioning of how women are portrayed in fantasy art and on covers, and I found myself pondering the question: what does feminism mean in today's society? And what does it mean for the fantasy genre?
One thing is for certain: women and girls growing up in today's society are not practicing our mothers' feminism. We aren't burning bras, we're embracing them, particularly the sexy, lacy, push-up kind. And not because we have to, but because it's what we want. The cheerleaders, the volleyball girls and the bikini-clad woman warriors with swords aren't scantily-clad to satisfy the male gaze of our patriarchal society; the former wear short skirts and tight shorts because they can more successfully compete as athletes, and the latter walk the halls with all the confidence their super heroine personas inspire, a confidence I wish I had as I slump around in my sweatshirt and jeans. Jess of New Girl recently came under fire from feminist organizations because she's just so girly, to which the producers and star say, "so what?" Can't a woman be girly and a feminist? Is the bodice a constrictive symbol of male power if I choose to wear it?
This leads, inevitably, to how women are portrayed in modern fantasy. Yes, women in Martin's Game of Thrones are perceived by society as lacking power, but no one who crosses Cersei, Dany or Lady Stark would believe the truth of that statement. These women are fiercely protective of their own, tough as nails, and able to manipulate the subtleties of power in ways their men cannot. My Ki'leah from Song and Northern Queen prefers to wear dresses and do her hair, but they don't define who she is or how she governs. In fact, I would argue that women who present themselves as women in fantasy have more power because they are underestimated by both the men in their worlds and the readers themselves, whose preconceived notions of women in fantasy have been defined by the centuries of patriarchal expectations. One answer is to put swords in the hands of women, send them into battle, and call it power, but must women give up our very nature in order to gain power and be viewed as strong?
And where do men fit in? As I waited in line for the Snow White and the Huntsman panel (which I missed—argh!) I noticed a tremendous amount of men in line for the next panel, which was a sneak peek at the next Resident Evil movie. At the panel, I watched clips of teeny tiny Milla Jovovich kick major zombie ass—while men clapped and cheered. I was intrigued to discover that this video game-turned-movie franchise is ten years old, and RE's Alice is the only female action heroine to carry an entire movie franchise. When guys read my book, they tell me their favorite character is Britta, the female warrior. Clearly, men aren't threatened by women with power; so why do we continue to give them—and ourselves—a bad rap? Isn't it time to lay this particular argument to rest?
Like Princess Leia, who used her sexy slave costume to choke her captor and forever turned societal expectations of women in fantasy upside down—creating generations of fanboy believers in the process—I believe it's time for feminism to accept that yes, women want to be taken seriously and we want to be heard, but not at the cost of what makes us female. And not at the cost of men, either. People, it's time to bring balance to the Force.
by Kim Vandervort
March 12, 2012
No Woman No Cry
A closer look at a raindrop on Trillium reveals a world ofpossibilities. Would a closer look at tears do the same?
Photo by Rafael AguilarI have two anecdotes from two writers groups this week: one in which I am on the giving end of the critique; another in which I am on the receiving end.
On the giving end: We are reading a scene from an epic fantasy, wherein a knight frets over the unknown fate of his true love. His distress moves him to weep copiously. Among my comments in response to this author's work, "I know I'm expressing some prejudice when I say this, but I do prefer my fantasy knights to be men of few tears."
On the receiving end: The chapter I've brought for critique includes a scene where a woman, confronted with a situation that brings on a rush of bitter memories, breaks down and cries. Among the comments of my peers in response to this work, "Having your protagonist cry makes her look weak."
These are the comments that inspired this week's topic of discussion, tears and crying.
Seeing someone cry -- or crying in the presence of others -- can make us just as uncomfortable in fiction as in life. Our interpretation of crying is laden with preconceptions and prejudices, even though most everyone would agree tears are normal, and that it would be a very strange person indeed who did not cry at least once during the difficult journey from birth to death.
The acceptability of crying varies greatly from culture to culture, and even from generation to generation within the same culture.
In contemporary U.S. society, crying is often associated with weakness or instability of character, and seen as the traditional domain of women and children (who then, by implication, are inclined to be weaker and more unstable than all those tearless adult males). Perhaps it is for this reason that there is a tendency among fantasy readers to want the strong protagonists – both men and women – to eschew tears as a form of self-expression.
Curious about the meaning and purpose of tears, I decided to bypass all the work out there that discusses societal constructs of crying, and cut to the biological core of the matter.
What is the physiological function of tears?
What do we know about the evolution of tears and crying?
Can scientific research inform how we incorporate tears into our stories, whether we let our characters cry, when and under what circumstances?
Unfortunately, my quest was hampered by the fact that we still know very little about the science of tears. Part of the reason is that people have only recently started asking questions about tears from a scientific perspective. But also, there are many obstacles involved in the scientific study of crying behavior, not the least of which is the difficulty of creating controlled situations that simulate the different social contexts in which tears might arise.
Still, some interesting tidbits that have surfaced in recent years. Here are a few:
Not all tears are created equal. The eye produces three kinds of tears, and only one of these are associated with emotional stress. In addition, there's evidence that different kinds of emotional stress – joy, anger, sadness – may produce tears with different chemical composition; and that tears produced by adults and children, males and females, also differ in chemical composition.
From an evolutionary perspective, the advantages of crying behavior are likely to be very different for babies, children, and adults. In other words, while many people might associate crying with infantile behavior, the selection pressures that have favored crying in adults are not the same as those that have favored crying in children. For example, one evolutionary hypothesis proposes that crying in infants evolved to signal strength. The idea being that babies who demonstrated greater lung capacity were more likely to secure adequate care from their parents during hard times. In adults, crying has been hypothesized to function as a signal of submission (which, by the way, is not the same thing as signaling weakness), as a mechanism to halt the escalation of conflict, and/or as a tool for social bonding.
There's evidence that tears might be a form of chemical communication and manipulation. This is where things get really interesting, but also unfortunately, where we have only tidbits of compelling data. Here are a few of those juicy morsels:
What makes a male mouse sexy? The potency of his tears.Photo by Joel SartoreIt's been found that male mouse tears are aphrodisiacs. They contain a pheromone that makes females more receptive to mounting.
Naked mole rats have been reported to rub their bodies with tears as a technique to reduce aggression on the part of other individuals.
In humans, recent research indicates that just sniffing tears changes how men respond to photos of women, leading to all kinds of speculation as to whether human tears carry pheromones that lower sexual drive and/or aggression by affecting the production of testosterone.
In short, the research has begun to indicate that tears may not be associated with weakness, but with a different kind of strength. They may, in some cases, be an effective weapon of pheromonal warfare expertly crafted by the evolutionary process, the history and power of which remain a mystery to us.
Countless questions remain, of course. Do male and female tears differ in chemical composition? Do tears produced by different kinds of emotional stress – joy, sadness, anger – carry different pheromones? What are the chemical and physiological pathways involved in our response to another person's tears?
So next time we judge a character by his or her tears, maybe we should think again. There is likely much more to that tear than meets the eye.
Posted by Karin Rita Gastreich
Want to read more about tears? A good place to start would be these links to the National Geographic website:
Mouse Tears are AphrodisiacsWomen's Tears Reduce Sex Drive in Men, Study Hints
March 5, 2012
In Like A Lion, Out Like A Lamb
It's March. Up here in New England, the days are gloriously grey and dreary; they make me feel raw and shivery like no other days in any other month do. Come those last days, things will be greening up, the air will be warm and moist; it will smell like earth and rain. No, this isn't another post about weather. Kim already did a stellar job on that one. This is about time and how it passes in fantasy fiction.There are two schools of thought when it comes to using our own earth calendar (the Gregorian calendar, also known as the civil calendar--the accepted standard.) One is that, since we're using our own language, (and I'm going to use English as the standard here, since that is what I'M writing in) use it in its entirety. That includes the days of the week, the months of the year, the seasons and even "clock" termininology. This is the easier method, and probably the most consistent.
The second school of thought is to avoid the terminology the way you would idiom. This is where things get sticky, because, short of inventing your own way of measuring time from seconds to seasonal cycles, it's impossible to avoid them completely. For example, we all know that our Wednesday comes from Norse mythology: Odin's Day--Woden's Day--Wednesday. How, you ask, can there be a Wednesday in a world in which Odin doesn't exist? Grand--no Wednesday. So...does your world even have seven day weeks to appropriately name? Does it even measure time in weeks? How about the hours in a day? How long is a day? What about seasons? Does your world have the equivalanet of winter, spring, summer and fall? Or is it a tropical culture? And if so, does it exist within a civilization big enough to know what winter is in concept if not in reality?
See what I mean? Much harder.
While the first school of thought is easier by far, and, if done with consistency and no apologies, will cause the least amount of controversy among your readers, the second will enrich your world, make it unique.
So how do you go about it? Like the way you would use our earth terminology: drawn your line and be consistent.Do you want to use minutes and hours, but not week or month? Does your world have all four seasons?Use your world's culture to create the names of those spans of time you want to make unique--like Woden's Day. And, like the heading on this post, create those idioms and sayings that will go along with your world calendar. Remember that holidays is a joining of holy days, create and use them accordingly to give the feel of those your reader will recognize from their own existence. (For example, in Karin Gastreich's Eolyn, there are festivals and rituals that equate to, but are not exactly like, Christmas and Beltane.)
As for me, I prefer the second method. How about you? As a reader? As a writer?
February 27, 2012
A Fantasy Reader's Demands
Up on Heroines of Fantasy this week, our first male blogger for the spring! Peadar Ó Guilín is a writer of YA fiction out of Dublin, Ireland. His first book, The Inferior ranked among the very best books I read in 2010. It is available in the US. His second book, The Deserter, will be available in the US on March 12th! For more information on Peadar and his work, click on the name-ticky up there. Unless the Nork has incapacitated him again, he'd love to hear from you.
Dear Fantasy Writers,
I'm a writer too and what I want, is to be remembered. Oh, I'm not talking about eternity here. What I mean, is that five minutes after you have finished reading one of my stories, you'll still be able to tell a perfect stranger what it was about.
A humble ambition, you might think, except I suspect that like me, you have wasted far too much time being mildly entertained instead of thrilled.
People read our work for different reasons: some like wizards; some *want* to be wizards, or thieves or dragons. There are fantasy fans who dream of escape to what they imagine were simpler times, when people had purer motives and better dance moves.
But for me, the true power of the genre lies in its name.
Fantasy means "imagination". It is creativity gone wild, or rather, that's what it should be. As a reader, I enjoy the tropes, but deep inside, there's a part of me that yearns to be astounded. I long to use the word "marvel" again and again in superhero-free sentences.
Science Fiction writers do this to me all the time, or they aspire to it anyway and it blows my mind that so many fantasy writers are content to let their genre cousins steal this crown right from under their noses.
But there's profit in old rope, isn't there? Perhaps it's no accident that SF sales keep shrinking, their shelf space collapsing before a never-ending stream of dragon-this or dragon-that.
Which is not to say I have anything against dragons! Or any other trope you might name. The important thing, for me, Peadar the Reader, is that when you use tropes, you twist them so hard that my lazy eye finally uncrosses; that I forget to go to the bathroom until I embarrass myself; that my coffee goes cold in the flask. That's all I want. Something new. Something amazing.
Oh, I'll still visit ye olde medieval kingdoms from time to time, like so many branches of McDonalds, because, well, when I'm hungry, I'll plug the gap with whatever comes to hand and... and Good for you! McDonald's do great business and not everybody can blow minds with every steaming plate that comes out of their kitchen.
But I want you to try. I insist on it. This is my demand and it is non-negotiable.
Or maybe you'd prefer for me to forget you while I'm still reading your book?
Dear Fantasy Writers,
I'm a writer too and what I want, is to be remembered. Oh, I'm not talking about eternity here. What I mean, is that five minutes after you have finished reading one of my stories, you'll still be able to tell a perfect stranger what it was about.
A humble ambition, you might think, except I suspect that like me, you have wasted far too much time being mildly entertained instead of thrilled.
People read our work for different reasons: some like wizards; some *want* to be wizards, or thieves or dragons. There are fantasy fans who dream of escape to what they imagine were simpler times, when people had purer motives and better dance moves.
But for me, the true power of the genre lies in its name. Fantasy means "imagination". It is creativity gone wild, or rather, that's what it should be. As a reader, I enjoy the tropes, but deep inside, there's a part of me that yearns to be astounded. I long to use the word "marvel" again and again in superhero-free sentences.
Science Fiction writers do this to me all the time, or they aspire to it anyway and it blows my mind that so many fantasy writers are content to let their genre cousins steal this crown right from under their noses.
But there's profit in old rope, isn't there? Perhaps it's no accident that SF sales keep shrinking, their shelf space collapsing before a never-ending stream of dragon-this or dragon-that.
Which is not to say I have anything against dragons! Or any other trope you might name. The important thing, for me, Peadar the Reader, is that when you use tropes, you twist them so hard that my lazy eye finally uncrosses; that I forget to go to the bathroom until I embarrass myself; that my coffee goes cold in the flask. That's all I want. Something new. Something amazing. Oh, I'll still visit ye olde medieval kingdoms from time to time, like so many branches of McDonalds, because, well, when I'm hungry, I'll plug the gap with whatever comes to hand and... and Good for you! McDonald's do great business and not everybody can blow minds with every steaming plate that comes out of their kitchen.
But I want you to try. I insist on it. This is my demand and it is non-negotiable.
Or maybe you'd prefer for me to forget you while I'm still reading your book?
February 20, 2012
What's the Weather Like?
Hurricane and Sun by Alexis Rockman, 2006Perhaps it's because I've lived the majority of my life in sunny, moderate climates without significant weather changes, but any kind of weather—particularly in the extremes—makes me cranky. I detest snow. It may look pretty, all white, fluffy and innocent on the ground, but I'm not fooled. Snow is cold, wet, icy, and like to make one utterly miserable once it crusts up and turns to ice and sludge. When it gets dirty, snow just looks tawdry and sad, like a hooker past her prime. And it sneaks up on you. I switched colleges simply because I could no longer tolerate the invisible black ice that coated the walkways and forced me to slide to my classes on my ass.
Don't get me started on rain, either. A light mist frizzes my hair and makes me sticky; a downpour, as far as I'm concerned, is a fantastic reason to close schools and businesses and stay off the road, because nobody can drive in it anyway. High winds? Annoying, and there always seems to be one blowing on a rare good hair day. Excessive heat? Just fine, as long as I can stay indoors with the A/C. Bitter cold (in Southern California, what I call any temp below 60 degrees)? Give me a blanket, preferably heated, a fire, up the heater to at least 70, and pour me a hot chocolate. Earthquakes I can handle; weather, of all but the pleasant, sunny-with-a-slight-breeze sort, I can't.
Given my general attitude weather as a necessary evil, it's no wonder that I tend to notice the weather (or lack thereof) in both the books I read and what I write. And what I've found is that weather, in fantasy, seems to fall into one of three basic categories:
1) Weather is present to characterize a place. 2) Weather sets a mood. 3) Weather is there to make the characters really uncomfortable.
Most authors who incorporate weather usually touch on at least one of the three. On Anne McCaffrey's Pern, dragons battle the thread that falls from the sky and burns like acid. In my books, I tend to throw a rain or snow storm at my characters whenever I either want to make them miserable or slow them down. George R. R. Martin probably makes the most effective use of weather, utilizing it for all three of the above purposes. From the outset of Game of Thrones, the Stark words winter is coming prove foreboding and foreshadowing in a myriad of ways. The winter is both an actual turning of the seasons and an indicator of trouble to come. In contrast, the sunny, humid south feels just as unpleasant as the constant snows of the north. I love how Eddard Stark is constantly changing his sweaty tunic for a fresh one. He can't stand the heat any more than some of the other characters can withstand his frozen north. The weather impacts the characters emotionally and physically, and sets a tone for the series.
Fishermen upon a Lee Shore, in Squally Weatherby Joseph Mallord WilliamI have noticed, though, that Martin is singular in his use of weather. Many of the novels I have read in the past year don't really seem to have weather at all, particularly the YA dystopian novels I tend to favor of late. Their characters must all live here in SoCal, where the occasional mild rain inspires the annual "StormWatch: 2012" and nobody seems able to drive the freeways safely. Even though I'm generally pro-sun, the absence of weather in fiction bothers me. It makes the worldbuilding less vivid, less realistic. Because let's face it: love it or hate it, weather happens. And weather, as we have learned from the tragedies of the tsunami in Thailand and Hurricane Katrina, can be one of the most destructive forces on earth. The wind alone can shape canyons over time, crumble ships like bath toys, level cities and decimate populations.
So tell me: what's the weather like in the books you're reading or writing these days? How is weather used (or not)? Does it enhance or detract from the plot and worldbuilding of the novel? What are some of your favorite uses of weather in fiction?
