The Weirding of the Writing Process: Channeling Society's Metanarratives (Part 3: Conclusion)

The last couple of days I’ve been harping on this idea that creative writers don’t “come up” with their ideas. I want to calibrate that notion. Sure. In an intuitive sort of “pop-wisdom” way, creative writers are the source of their ideas. But we need to be very clear about how they are the source of their story ideas.

There is an old argument—I want to call it the biographical argument—that story scenarios (characters, settings, plots, etc..) derive from the biographical experiences of the storyteller. Thus, the argument goes, if I was born in an oil boom town filled with a bunch of rough folks who drank, got in fights, cussed, and spit, then my stories would be filled with characters who drank, got in fights, cussed and spit. I’m not sure I’m ready to disagree with this argument completely. I do, however, think it has some risks to it. Let me explain.

This “biographical argument” is one form of explanation for how writers are the source of their story ideas. What’s useful about the biographical argument is that it takes away agency from the writer. It alleviates the crisis that is making the demand on ourselves as artists that we create something out of nothing, out of thin air.

And yet, in spite of this boon, the “biographical argument” obfuscates the creative situation to a degree. It’s not as if the writer sets out to write his or her life (unless, course, they’re writing straight autobiography). No. The writer writes, spins yarns, and, lo!, elements from their life creep in. You write what you know.

Furthermore, the risk in this argument is that it doesn’t go “all the way” down. There are other sources of stories that aren’t just what we, as individuals, experience. And we “channel” those stories.

How do we “channel” those stories? I haven’t the slightest idea. But I’m sure we do.

I feel like a dose of the social-psychologist Carl Jung would give this revelry a little more credibility and structure (and yet—Carl Jung is a thinker and writer who has become, like Freud, a kind of jokester metaphyisician). Let me just say Carl Jung’s idea of the “collective unconscious mind,” the part of the mind that interfaces with the collective memories of the race, is an elegant metaphor for the process I’m conceptualizing here.

These stories that we channel, like spirits, are what I want to call “metanarratives”. Narrative theorists use this term in more precise way elsewhere. We’re creative writers who are interested in writing interesting stories. And so, I choose to use the term in an interesting way.

What are “metanarratives”? They are the stories that linger on, right outside of consciousness and memory, that are the source of our unstated beliefs about the most important things: honor, glory, evil, lust, justice, fear, ambition, and so forth.

Another way of putting it is this: “metanarratives” are the “deep code” of the stories we use to come to terms with being human.

I’d like to carry this “deep code” metaphor even further. In computer programming you always work with an analogue language and never binary. Why? You can’t understand binary. There is no way for a human being to understand strings of binary code. And so you manipulate that language with a more simplistic one.

Such is our situation as creative writers. In order to write the most intense stories, the stories that truly intensify, clarify, domesticate, and stir up the many emotions and crises of human existence, we need to access the “deep code” that is “metanarrativity.” But, if we follow my metaphor, “metanarratives” would be nonsensical to us. And so here is our crisis: we need an analogue language.

I conclude this three-part series with railroady syllogism and an unanswerable question. Be careful that you don't trip on the mixed metaphors:

IF we accept that creative writers don’t “come up” with their ideas like an inventor, i.e. out of thing air…
IF we accept that they channel “metanarratives”…
IF we accept that “metanarratives” are nonsensical to us in the manner of a “deep code” or a “collective unconscious” and that, thus, we need an analogue language to access them…

THEN, the question of the hour becomes,

What is the analogue language creative writers use to access and utilize the metanarratives upon which the most intense and stirring stories told are based?

How, oh how! do we glimpse beyond this passing moment to reveal those "god-stories" that weave together  paleolithic incantations by fire with the yarns printed on pulp paper?

Swords and Dark Magic: James Enge, "The Singing Spear," and Flatness and Roundess of Characters

After a week in Portland and a week in Columbus, I find myself returned to my home, my study in Cleveland, where the drone of my room heater and the purr of my cat and the steam of my coffee fill me with joy. It's going to be a great year.

Today I'm going to continue my series on the anthology Swords and Dark Magic. Here is a link to the other posts: Swords and Dark Magic: Extended Review

The fourth story is by James Enge and is titled, "The Singing Spear." It concerns the adventures of a drunkard who is also an enchanter of weapons whose name is Morlock. I won't give away the plot. Suffice it to say it is indeed sword and sorcery in tone: murder, drinking, sorcery, moral ambiguity, blood, etc..

To generalize, I loved this story. Second to the Steven Erikson, this story is my favorite. And I'd have to say this is because of the protagonist, Morlock. He's very interesting. At first he seems to be a stereotypical sword and sorcery protagonist--a brooding warrior who is out for himself, haunted by demons, drinking them away. And yet, in the course of a single swordly-and-sorcerous adventure, he surprises you with his depth, with behavior and feelings that I believe were quite surprising.

I've never read Enge's other work but this makes me very eager to seek it out and read more. Here is a link to his webpage and blog: http://jamesenge.com/

Reflecting on Morlock reminds me of an important characteristic of interesting characters, namely, their capacity to change. Narrative theorists reflect a lot on fictional characters and how they function in narratives. Often they re-hash two designations coined by E.M. Forster in his book Aspects of the Novel (1927), namely, flat characters versus round characters.

Flat characters are characters have no hidden depth or complexity; round characters do. I like to think about the distinction between flat and round characters in terms of their relationships to character types. Flat characters embrace their character type through action; round characters resist or subvert their character types through action.

First, what is a character type? It's a fully-formed character role lingering somewhere in our unconscious mind that we deploy in order to understand people. For example: I go to a bar, encounter a young man who wears a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, camouflage pants, and who has a shaved head. This happens to be a local bar in a rural area. Before I even meet him I make certain assumptions: he is a redneck, a hillbilly, etc..

Yes, character types are narratologist's word for stereotypes, except stereotypes are always considered negative, slightly insulting, whereas character types are considered the fundamental cognitive apparatuses by which we understand the world and the people we encounter in it.

Continuing with out example: suppose this fella, upon talking with him, professes his love of the Ohio State Buckeyes, talks about his love of country music, starts telling you stories about his tractor, his rifles, how he recently bagged a few deer. If he showed up in a story, he would be a flat character.

In reality, no one really exists as a flat character. We are all complex and unique and therefore character types always fall short when used on normal people.

Let's reconsider our example: suppose this fella, upon talking with him, professes his love for Debussy and country music; suppose he loves playing D&D and enjoys a good football game. Suppose, if you will, he drives a tractor but also is Jewish, is a virologists as a local university, and writes horrible poetry that he won't share with anyone. This would be a round character.

In reality, we're all round characters. And yet--and yet! in reality, we all treat each other as if we are flat characters (that is, until we get to know eachother). 

The issue, for me, is character type and conformity or non-conformity to it. Flat characters conform to a character type. Round characters resist it.

Morlock, as a sword and sorcery character, is unique because he both manifests that sword and sorcery protagonist stereotype, and yet, he resists it.
 

Old School Roleplaying, the Writing of Fantasy Literature, and a Personal History of Wonder

As a writer of genre fiction, particularly of fantasy fiction, I want to acknowledge the influence fantasy roleplaying games like Dungeons and Dragons have had on me. These days many genre magazines and fantasy enthusiasts denigrate Dungeons and Dragons as a contaminating influence that aspiring writers should exorcise from the engines of their creative furnaces. Channeling Dungeons and Dragons, the argument goes, makes fantasy fiction formulaic and amateurish. I'm not sure where I stand on this issue. I've never had to read through a slush pile, and so I don't begrudge any magazine editor who makes these claims. And yet, it feels totally disingenuous for me to disclaim D&D a mite. Why? This is of course because my development as a writer was concomitant with my development as a fantasy roleplayer. With that said, I believe my experiences with D&D were more positive influences on my fiction and creativity than negative influences. The jury, of course, is still out on that.

This post is a brief collection of reminiscences of roleplaying games and their role in my perpetual struggle to write fantasy literature.

A history: in 1990 a board game was released in the U.S. titled, HeroQuest. It was a simple board game that simulated the adventures of a barbarian, an elf, a dwarf, and a magician through a variety of dungeons. At seven years old, I found the rules extremely complex and felt very smart for being able to read the entire handbook. But, if memory serves, this was my first encounter with fantasy RPGs.

I won't bore you with the full history of my relationship with fantasy roleplaying, which is no doubt typical of many folks my age. And yet, I'd like to relate some highlights.

By 1992 I had both the Dungeons and Dragons starter set (it was a black boxed set that included simplified Dungeons and Dragons rules and a dungeon, map, some plastic figurines, and some dice) and the Advanced Dungeons and Dragons player's handbook, dungeons master's guide, and monster manual. At 9 years old (a third-grader) I struggled with understanding the Advanced Dungeons and Dragons rules, but I had a mentor who guided me through.

It's a strange thing to admit this, but I was a fantasy roleplayer before I was an avid reader of fantasy literature. I know I read before the age of eleven, but I can't remember anything as stirring as my first encounter with J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit in 1993. After The Hobbit I quickly read The Lord of the Rings (I tried to read the Silmarillion then, but was just too confused). This was followed by C.S. Lewis's Narnia books. And thereafter I found myself reading Dungeons and Dragons novels, predominantly R.A. Salvatore and his Drizzt Do'Urden stories.

Television, film, and video games also added to this early fascination with fantasy, but the iron core of it all was, without a doubt, D&D. In terms of television, I remember watching the Thundercats, He-Man, Conan the Adventurer, and a strange cartoon called David the Gnome. In terms of film, I remember watching Arnold Schwarzenegger's in Conan the Barbarian until my family's bootleg VHS needed to be replaced; additionally, there was Jim Henson's The Dark Crystal and Labryinth, and, of course, George Lucas's Willow. Video games were changing so quickly, and so its somewhat hard to pin down a few specific titles (there were lots and lots), but Dragon Quest and Final Fantasy on the first Nintendo Entertainment System were extremely intense experiences. Later games were Ultima Online and Baldur's Gate.

In spite of all the fantasy film, television, and video-gaming I engaged in, the main attraction was no doubt fantasy roleplaying. I can't explain why, but I remember being filled with a sense of wonder, wandering through the RPG section of Walden Books, drinking up the artwork that adorned the covers of modules and campaign settings and sourcebooks. Indeed, a large part of my youth was spent mastering and playing Dungeons and Dragons.

It wasn't until middle school that anything like a coherent narrative ever evolved from my friends and my clumsy and yet extremely fun attempts at playing that game. Throughout middle-school and high school two particular gaming groups stand out. One campaign lasted the full part of my high school career and getting together with friends we still reminiscence about episodes from it. I hate to say it, but the main villain of that campaign--an evil sorcerer who plotted to take over the world named Tys the Fool--has, I believe, became a part of my adult personality.

By the time I went off to undergraduate school my fantasy roleplaying was no longer an important part of my life. Writing creatively had overshadowed it as a hobby. Of course this had a lot to do with the fact that the friends I grew accustomed to playing this game with were far away and the real world began to distract us from what really mattered, namely, that other place.

In 1997, after the original publisher of Dungeons and Dragons went defunct, I lost interest. Why? A third edition was released that for this reason or that I found repellent. I'm reluctant to even speculate as to why the third edition (and subsequent editions, even leading up to the 4th edition of today) don't stir me. A lot of wasted breath and writing, I think, has been wasted trying to defend or attack this or that edition of D&D. This is what I believe: D&D was (and is) an aesthetic experience, and so trying to explain why I hate 4th or 3.5 or 3rd and love 2nd and Gary Gygax's AD&D is like trying to explain why I believe this or that painting is ugly or beautiful.

With that said, I've created a new section in my blog that will focus on so-called "OSR (Old School Roleplaying). Although the main focus of this blog will still be the writing of weird fiction, I want to bring this element out in the open.

The fact of the matter is, if it wasn't for the experiences of wonder I had through the stories I told and heard and participated in through Dungeons and Dragons, I probably wouldn't be writing at all.

The Fantasy-Horror Version of Blogging

I was always reluctant to blog. Why? Because I had a misconception of what it meant to blog. What did I mistakenly think blogging was?

I thought blogging was either "navel-gazing" or "incendiary amateur politics." The story of why people blogged went one of either two ways in my mind:

(1) People blogged in order to share what they had for dinner, or information about their bowel movements, or pictures of the cool new sweater they bought for their poodle "Snowball."

Or,

(2) People blogged in order to share their half-baked reflections on politics or to express their extremist opinions about political issues they probably knew nothing about.

Yes, I have an irritating cynical strain in me.

Let me be clear (and I think this is highly appropriate given the focus of my blog): this vision of blogging was a "fantasy-horror" I had concocted with no basis in the reality of what blogging actually is.

How was I able to weave such a repulsive illusion? Well, I never read blogs of course. I formed an opinion based on what I heard in snatches of conversation or what I gleaned from an occasional glance at a newspaper in an airport.

How did blogging transform from "navel-gazing" into a favorite pastime to engage in while drinking my morning coffee?

I started reading blogs.

I can't retrace the many aimless digital wanderings that landed me at the two blogs that I now identify as, say, my "gateway drugs," if you will, into the blogosphere. They do deserve mentioning.

The Blog of Black Gate Magazine: This is the blog associated with the heroic fantasy magazine Black Gate, and they are always posting on something I find extremely interesting regarding fantasy, fantasy art, sword and sorcery, contemporary writers, etc.. I started reading it, commenting, and reading some more. Against any plans, I became engaged in a brief dialog played out in the comments on a post that discussed what made a science-fiction/fantasy/horror classic, which was a lot of fun. I was hooked.

Grognardia: This is a blog that a lot of people involved in OSR (Old School Roleplaying) read. I find this blog so interesting because the writer knows so much about a hobby that has influenced my writing and my love of genre literature in unquantifiable ways. To a large extent I would say my writing has always been a struggle to recreate that feeling of wonder I had when I first started playing Dungeons and Dragons as a young child. I feel as though the folks who blog and read about OSR are kindred spirits to me.

What did these blogs teach me?

Blogging is less about sharing your personal feelings and more about building communities about some greater thing: a hobby, an issue, an art form, etc.. 

Sure, one shares their personal feelings, day to day encounters, opinion, hobbies, etc.. on a blog, but your personal contribution is not the main point. The point of blogging (this is my current impression of it) is to interface with communities, to build communities of like-minded people so that something like, say, fantasy-fiction or old school roleplaying, can be given fuller life. In a strange way the hobby (OSR) or the art (genre fiction) subordinates the individuals who write the blogs. In other words: you start out expressing a personal opinion on an issue… and you end up enhancing and growing something larger than yourself.

New Year's Resolution: to keep blogging. 

A Critical Assessment of My Creative Output for 2011

I want to change things up today.

Lately I’ve been doing critical analyses of the “weird fiction” I’ve been reading (reminder: by “weird fiction” I mean science fiction, fantasy, and horror). But I don’t conceive of “literary criticism” as the core goal of my blog (although there will be plenty).

Ultimately, I want to merge *analysis* with *synthesis,* to go from reading good genre fiction to writing good genre fiction.

With that in mind, I want to publicly take stock of my writing efforts, attempt to characterize my creative endeavors, and in that way gain some critical perspective/detachment. I hope this isn’t just *navel gazing* and that it might be useful or instructive—even as a blueprint for *not* how to proceed—to aspiring genre writers.

My current goal is to write creatively for 15 minutes per day.

I’ve been doing this *somewhat* consistently for a year now. In terms of word count, here is how I figure it: if I do this 7 days a week, thats exactly 1 hour and 45 minutes of writing (give or take, considering sometimes my 15 minutes becomes 30 or even 45 minutes). Considering I average 500 words per 15 minute session (give or take), my output in terms of word count is approximately 3000 words per week. Thus, in two weeks I can reach 6000 words.

Most of the short-fiction markets I’ve been researching want 5000 - 10,000 word stories (you can get a thumbnail sketch of them in my “markets” section, although for more in-depth information I suggest checking out their webpage directly). And so, considering my output page, 15 minutes of writing a day—if I’m consistent—gets me *a draft* for a story for one of these markets in two weeks.

Add about a week for revision, and in 3 weeks I can have a story to send off.

And yet—and yet! this is not how things have been working out!

I’ve been writing seriously since December of last year and I’ve finished *drum roll* 7 short stories (these have been significantly revised and polished)! Of these seven stories, I only feel truly confident in 2 of them. I sent them out at the time I started this blog (approximately 10 days ago—I’ll report in as I hear back).

Summary: in a year of relatively consistent writing, I’ve gotten to a position where I have two stories under review by magazines.

Yes. It seems I need to work harder.

In all honestly, though, *I haven’t been consistent in my writing.* For the months of August, September, and October, I barely wrote at all considering I was researching for and studying material for my qualifying examinations (I passed them, by the way, and am therefore no longer a Ph.D. *student* but a Ph.D. *candidate*—::self-satisfied smile::).

And now I’m starting my dissertation project. *gulp*

The key to productivity, I realize, is to stay consistent. 15 minutes a day, ideally, equals one story written every three weeks. That means in a 52 week year I could conceivably write 17 stories.

This year I wrote seven. ::sigh:: I didn’t realize how far behind I was. Of those seventeen I aim to write, I’m sure 4 or 5 will be worth submitting.

Anyhow, I did want to share some of the logistics I’m been rolling around in my head. Its refreshing to take stock of these things.

Onward. Excelsior! Engage! Roll initiative!

Swords and Dark Magic: Steven Erikson's, "Goats of Glory"

I recently read Steven Erikson’s “Goats of Glory,” the first story in the “Swords and Dark Magic Anthology.” I liked it a lot. To a large extent, it has everything I would expect from a sword and sorcery yarn. Here are some highlights:

Conventional Sword and Sorcery Elements

The “secondary world” where the adventures take place is dark, gritty, and unforgiving. It is violent and the violence is portrayed (struggling for the right adjective here) “beautifully.” And the antagonists, rather than being mere mortals, are otherworldy, demented, and imbued with magic. In other words, the main conflict is between the natural/ the immanent—soldiers who are road worn and wielding steel—and the supernatural—demon sorcerers from other planes.

This violent confrontation, between the worldly and the otherworldly is, for me, the essence of sword and sorcery. The mundane and the magical, in sword and sorcery, tend to be suspicious of each other. In this story, this is indeed the case.

Unconventional Sword and Sorcery Elements

In spite of its traditional sword and sorcery elements, there is a lot about this story that is indeed new.

On the level of plot, the protagonist is not a single, lone figure but a group of people, a fellowship. Let me explain why I think this is new.

When I think of sword and sorcery., I often think of “the one versus the many,” the barbarian versus the sorcerer and the spirits he summons. Think of all the Franz Frazetta paintings that depict a single barbarian facing off with a sorcerer or demon. In this story you have a group of people confronting the darkness of sorcery (i.e. demons). I’m probably overstating the case here, but Robert E. Howard’s Conan stories, C.L. Moore’s Jorel of Joiry stories, Michael Moorcock’s Elric of Melnibone stories, and, to a certain extent, Fritz Leiber’s Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser stories—these all depict a single individual (or a duo) facing a pluralistic force. To some extent, these writers setup this theme of the one versus the many (I get the sense that the “fellowship” of folks fighting against evil is more of an element of high or epic fantasy). In this sword and sorcery yarn you have what seems like a platoon or fellowship facing a (evil?) force together. I am reluctant to write “evil” because sword and sorcery often blurs the distinction between so-called good and evil; this story is no exception.

Secondly, gender is portrayed somewhat neutrally in this story; thus, there are a unique type of “strong women” characters. Sure, you may cite Jorel of Joiry or Red Sonja (or Red Sonja), but the “strong women” in these stories are different. Jorel and Red (the comic book girl or the literary version) are sex objects and unique *because* they are women. Even though they are Medusa-like females who often expose the emptiness of their male antagonists so-called masculinity, they nevertheless become portrayed as sexual objects and are unique because they are women.

In this story, however, this is entirely not the case. The Captain is a woman and this situation is in no way portrayed in this story as unique. Furthermore, the women aren’t portrayed as being “sexy” or attractive; and furthermore—this was an interesting element of this story—they are sexually aggressive, i.e. they seek out males “for hire” when they arrive in town.

I know that non-sexualized woman who seek out sex aren’t anything new as far as fantasy literature; nevertheless, this type of neutral approach to gender in a traditionally masculinist genre like sword and sorcery seems interesting and perhaps new to me.

A reminder: this is the first of a series of reflections I’m going to do on the anthology of new sword and sorcery titled *Swords and Dark Magic,* edited by Jonathan Strahan and Lou Anders (New York: EOS, 2010). I’m probably going to take a break from this as I have another post idea in mind. But I’ll return to it later this week.

Inaugural post! The goal of this blog! An invitation!

So, I've been thinking about starting a blog for a long time but never got around to it. Why? Because I've been working on a Ph.D., and, believe it or not, that leaves far too little time for this sort of thing. But, guess what? I just finished my qualifying exams and am slated to start working on my dissertation. What am I writing my dissertation on? Well, I inclined to believe that part of it will consider the pulp fiction of the 20s, 30s, and 40s. But I don't want to just scrutinize and interpret genre fiction. Although it's great fun to do this, I want to do something more primal. And so, when I'm not working on my dissertation, I aim to create. I aim to meet writers. And I aim to draw inspiration from them like a vampire draws blood from a jugular.

A confession of a literary scholar: my whole life I've desperately wanted to write "weird fiction," the term I use for science-fiction, fantasy, and horror fiction. It's true. I've always, always, always wanted to be a writer but, like many other pragmatic folks, I've never completely committed to it for fear of failure. Well, I'm approaching thirty and realize I need to get to it. I'm ready to try. And fail. And try again. And fail again. Why the change of heart?

Over the past year I began setting aside some time each day for creative writing (as opposed to the academic writing I do, which is an important and major part of my life). Since Spring of this year, I've written seven short stories. I'll be honest: they're not the best. They need some spit and polish. But, hey!, I've actually produced something! A sculptor needs a brick of marble to chisel his masterpiece.

As the end of the year approaches, I can look back on some substantive literary output. And it has inspired me to make writing creatively an important part of my life.

I don't write too often. My goal right now is 15 minutes per day. I'm currently 10,000 words into a novella, my first attempt at the form. But alongside working on my dissertation, I do indeed aim to develop and hone my craft.

I'm a strong believer that literary endeavors are never undertaken in isolation. There is a widely disseminated myth of the writer as an isolated individual, all alone, sitting in their attic typing away at a type-writer.

This is all wrong. Writers need each other for a variety of reasons:

• to serve as sources of inspiration
  
• to serve as readers
  
• to serve as editors
  
• to serve as references to relevant literature and other professional resources
  
• to serve as companions in the struggle!
  

My hope is that by writing this blog I can connect to communities of writers thinking about, writing about, celebrating, and writing weird fiction and related topics like fantasy art, fantasy role-playing, science-fiction and fantasy movies and television shows, etc.

Ancillary to this primary goal of this blog is a desire that fuels it: I want to be a published writer. A short story? a novella? a novel? I don't care. As long as its published. I want to share my demented imaginings, my characters, my fantasies, with the world.

And so, I offer you the following invitation: if you've ever wanted to write science-fiction, fantasy, or horror; if you've ever, in a passing moment of fancy, wanted to create a "secondary world" where you can create characters that have amazing adventures; if, say, you've read widely in these genres and have itched to engage with them on a more fundamental, creative way... THEN... join me! Let's talk about science-fiction, fantasy, sword-and-sorcery, and horror together! Let's talk about characters, settings, plot structures, styles, literary market-places together! Let's write together! (Wow, that was a lot of exclamation points.)

A disclaimer/post-script: although I want to become a published writer, that is not the goal of this blog. The goal is to write, to meet writers, and hone and develop my craft with them. The success condition of this blog is seperate from the desire that fuels it.