Silmarillion Syndrome or Hung up on Structure

I don’t talk a lot about my writing in specific because it’s not an easy thing to talk about. Other writers all seem to have a “WIP” or Work in Progress that they are focused on and can discuss in detail. For me its different. I believe I suffer from what I’m going to call “Silmarillion Syndrome”.

What is it?

Everyone knows Tolkien for his masterpieces The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, but the work that Tolkien devoted his life to was the body of legends that would become The Silmarillion, only published after his death. Tolkien began the stories that comprised The Silmarillion in his youth and some of them went through dozens of permutations. From early on he had the idea of fitting them together into a mythology of the Elves. First there was The Book of Lost Tales, wherein the tales of the Elves were told to a mortal Man who had found his way to the Elves’ island home. Later versions removed the Man and the told story aspect and made them into straightforward mythological accounts collected in a body called the Quenta Silmarillion. Tolkien wrote several versions which he was never quite happy with which is why it later fell to his son to edit together the sometimes fragmented legends into a publishable volume. Tolkien never saw his beloved Elven history in print.

This desire for an overarching structure to the tales and need to have them fit together seamlessly into a single legendarium is all too familiar to me. As is the perfectionism that led to countless versions and revisions. I too want a comprehensive mythology for my world that was full of origin stories and heroic legends. For the past year I have been studying and ruminating and plotting and planning to come up with my own overarching structure for my fantasy stories. I have been obsessed with the Big Picture, trying to create a structure that every idea and every story element I have ever had and will ever have can easily fit into.

Wow, writing it out like that makes it sound stupidly ambitious. Which is, I think, a phrase that perfectly describes me when I start getting creative. Sarah McCabe: Stupidly Ambitious Fantasy Stories. It could work.

Anyway, I’ve been trying to work out this overarching narrative for some time now and I believe I’ve made a real breakthrough. Puzzle pieces are starting to fit together, the Big Picture is almost in view. It’s a dizzying feeling actually because I had begun to doubt whether or not I had the skill to formulate an overarching narrative that created the sort of depth you get from Tolkien’s work. Now I think maybe I can actually plan it out, but it still remains to be seen if I can turn it into a well told story. And whether I can manage to finish such an ambitious project in my lifetime.

Thoughts on... Prologues

I wrote a prologue for my book this week. It kind of changes the focus of the book in general so now I'm going to need to lightly edit the 3 1/2 other scenes I had finished to match the tone. I don't really mind that. I felt they were missing something anyway. I'm hoping that my prologue will give the main story context and more driving force. I like stories that are clearly going somewhere, not stories that meander or that I can only guess what the point of them is.

But here's the gamble I'm making: the prologue (and the epilogue that will accompany it) make the "main story" essentially one long, complex flashback. The prologue/epilogue are thousands of years later than the main story. This is a format I intend to employ with a least a few books in a series. Each book's "main story" will be a stand alone story, but the prologue/epilogue from book to book will be connected.

Now, every time I see prologues discussed on blogs and forums and such the advice is "Better safe than sorry." In other words, steer clear of them. But I think that part of being a good writer is knowing your target audience and that means knowing the genre that you're writing in. As often as not, the general advice about writing that you find here and there isn't aimed at any particular genre and yet the tropes and expectations from genre to genre are so varied. I think you need to think about when such advice may not necessarily apply to you because of what you write and who your audience is.

I write epic fantasy. And while I haven't read everything the genre has to offer, it seems to me that prologues are an accepted and welcome trope of the genre. And many prologues in epic fantasy will involve some sort of inciting incident from the distant past that set the events of the main story in motion. Large passages of time are usually not an obstacle for epic fantasy readers.

Of course, what I'm doing is sort of the opposite of that. It's entirely possible that essentially making the plot of my book one huge chunk of backstory to the prologue and epilogue will be an unpopular move. I'm one of those weird people who can never get enough of backstory. I just want to know everything and anything that ever happened related in anyway to what is going on now. I fear that I'm an anomaly and that the vast majority of people aren't as obsessed with the history of fictional worlds as I am. Ah well, I can only write the kind of story I would like to read.

Alas, the prologue of 1957 words was my only progress this past week. But it's better than nothing, right? I'm going to try really hard to make more progress during the coming week.

How about you? Do you enjoy prologues? What do you think is the greatest danger of including a prologue?

Love and Hate are just the same side of a different coin...

Today is the day and while I'm getting my post up later than I wanted, here it is!

Hosted by Tessa of Tessa's Blurb the object of this blogfest is to post a selection of our writing demonstrating hate in some form. There are prizes for the winner and it's not too late to get involved. You've got the rest of the day! Go sign up!
 
Here's my entry from my current WIP.

Imagine if you will: a sky filled with brilliant, multicolored stars; a primeval forest thick with vegetation, a huddled mass of men, women and children bearing what belongings they can carry in sacks upon their backs. 

And me. 

I lift a burning torch high over my head, casting light and shadow all around. The people scramble for the shadows. They are afraid. So am I. 

There is the snap of a branch behind me. My body tenses: fight or flight? I turn to see the figure of a friend approaching. The light of my torch flickers on his face casting strange patterns. The face is a monster. It is an animal. It is a god. It is a man. It is Lenwe. 

"Narmer," he says with more solemnity that I have ever seen in him. "I have come to say goodbye."

His words surprise all response from me and for moments I stand dumbstruck.

"I am staying here, in Finias," he says and waits for the meaning to burn its self into my mind. "You must go without me."

"No, Lenwe, that can't be..." I struggle for words. I can't allow this to happen. I must find a way to argue, to convince him again. But I cannot summon reason to my aid. There is too much fear in the air tonight. "Lenwe, you swore to me, we would do this together."

Lenwe looks distressed. His eyes will not meet mine. "I cannot go with you, Narmer," he says weakly. "I cannot."

And then I see far behind him in the shadows of the trees another figure. I know it is she. She has made him stay. She has always hated me. I meet her glance under the stars and I spit on the ground. She says nothing, but I can see her mouth curve into a satisfied smile. 

"Lenwe, don't listen to her!" I beg, though I know it is futile. He has always been caught in her web. "You have to get out of here! You know what they will do to you if you stay!"

"I'm not a target," he protests. "Not yet anyway. But you are, Narmer. You must not abandon the plan because of me. Go and find a new land... away from all this darkness and terror. Go and I will be happy knowing you have escaped."

I must give in, for the sake of those who follow me. Months, years worth of arguments never assailed his devotion to her. She has loved him as much as she hates me and she has made him hers. My brother.

We embrace for the last time in our lives. "To the horizon," he whispers in my ear. And then he is gone, with her. I watch them walk away and wonder to myself if such love and such hate can truly come from the same heart. I will never know the answer.

And that's it! The (current) new beginning for my WIP that I've been struggling with so much for the past few weeks. Let me know what you think. Then go read the other entries and give them a cheer.

Also this month I'll be participating in Sylvia Ney's Wonderland Giveaway Blogfest. That means I've signed up to host a giveaway here at my blog and all the other entrants will be doing giveaways on their blogs as well. It's a giveaway blogfest on a grand scale. So stop by on the 16th to see what I'll be giving away and how you can get it! Or go sign up at Sylvia's blog to get in on the giveaway action yourself.

Later on, I'll be part of Christine Tyler's Spark Blogfest discussing how I decided to be a writer, what inspires me as a writer and what books changed my worldview forever. There are prizes involved, so don't hesitate to follow the link and sign up!

The Tension of Power

It's the Power of Tension blogfest! Hosted by Rachel and Cally, this blogfest is for posting a passage of your writing that highlights tension. And because I have a sickness, I couldn't help signing up. All I can say is, 5 days to post your submission is the BEST IDEA EVER. On behalf of procrastinators everywhere, I thank our hosts from the bottom of my heart.

I thought I wouldn't have the scene I wanted to post revised until later this week, but my muse smiled on me yesterday. This scene is part of the lead up to a section of serious action around the center of the book (I think). Don't worry, you're not supposed to know what they're talking about yet. The reader isn't supposed to find out until it actually happens and then BAM! Hopefully I'll blow your minds. ;) Anyway, here it is:

    Tap. Tap.
    Setekhpenre looked up from his manuscript, his reed pen frozen in mid stroke. Not yet. Not tonight, he thought. He turned his body away from the door. The pen descended.
    Tap. Tap. Tap.
    He took a cloth and carefully wiped away a few crooked lines. He set the pen to the paper again and retraced the characters. I’m not ready. I’m not ready.
    TAP. TAP. TAP.
    The pen dropped from his shaking hand. Eyes closed, he took in several deep breaths. Setekhpenre stood, smoothed out his robes and walked to the door. He opened it.
    “I was beginning to think you would not answer me.”
    Setekhpenre fought to calm his features as he looked into the eyes of his visitor. “Kamose, you know I will always answer you.”
    “Whether or not you want to,” the visitor said.
    “Whether or not I want to.”
    Kamose walked past Setekh and motioned for him to close the door. “I would spare you if I could. Truly, my friend. But you knew this day was coming. I want you by my side.”
    “Kamose... is it necessary? There must be another way!”
    “So you have been saying for the last three seasons.” Kamose sat down at Setekh’s desk. He picked up the manuscript. “What is this?”
    Setekh swallowed. “It is a prayer.”
    “O Re God of Life, you Lord of Love, All men live when you shine,” Kamose read. “What is it you are praying for, Set?”
    “For the souls of the people who will die,” said Setekh.
    Kamose set the manuscript down and looked at Setekh. “It is necessary. And you will come with us.” Setekh gasped at the edge in his voice. “Tonight. Now. I will not wait any longer.”
    Setekh held his tongue and nodded his head in submission.
    “Let us go,” said Kamose. “The hour is near at hand.”
   

So what do you think? Is it tense enough? Is the conflict of interest between Setekh and Kamose as palpable as I want it to be? Are you intrigued? I'd love to hear your thoughts.