Thursday Thoughts

With the World Fantasy Convention coming up at the end of the month, I'm going to continue to write about Flow in particular, and perhaps contemporary / urban fantasy in general - with the exception of The Next Big Thing, which I have been tagged for, and I will post about!  I promise.  But I am swamped with a project I'll post about if I meet my exceedingly crunchy deadline.

Lately, I've been thinking about a potential sequel to Flow.  This following post continues some spoilers as to the plot resolution (though I'm trying to phrase things to minimize such), so if you haven't read the novel and care about such things, pop over to:

Flow - Lindsey Duncan

All right, shameless plug over.  On with the show!

I'm still working out the exact details of a plot(s) for this - I want to do something a bit more complex and spread out than Flow, so it may indeed be plots, plural - but there are a few things I know are must-dos:

Scenes from Hadrian's perspective.  Flow was conceived as alternating scenes between Kit and Chailyn.  Much is made of Hadrian's hyper-accelerated perceptions, but because of the dual POV, the reader never gets into those eyes.  Back when I wrote Flow, I wouldn't have been confident of being able to tackle that level of detail without bogging down the narrative unduly.  Now it seems like a fun challenge.

The dissolving romance.  One core concept for the sequel started before I even finished Flow:  in this later volume, Kit would have a boyfriend of supernatural character who uses his powers to suppress her abilities and allow her to be normal, but as the story opens, this is beginning to chafe.  I've expanded this into wanting to show a romance as it ends, the staying-together-by-habit, the irritation, the dissolution.

The uncomplicated romance.  I actually wrote an exercise (from Ann Hood's Creating Character Emotions, which I highly recommend) which set up the direction for the other romantic element in the book, but I want this to be a happy, middle-of-relationship story.  No irrational jealousy, no wandering eyes, no strained secrets, no "you put your work first" accusations.  There's too much media out there treading the same tired ground of tension for the sake of it.

Evolution.  The sequel will pick up a couple of years after Flow - there are a few points I have to nail down to determine how long.  I want to give a clear sense of how the characters have changed in the intervening time.

And just one more teaser on a likely plot point:

What do you do with the body of someone whose soul has been drained?

Sunday Snippets

Can't promise I will keep up with this feature, because it's difficult to post snippets unless I'm at the beginning of a piece, but here's a writing exercise I did recently from a challenge provided by my dear friend Lauren:

                It was her last masquerade as queen, for what vestige of meaning the title retained in a conquered land.  She had commanded the Fire Hall to be decorated as time and tradition demanded, scarlet banners and a host of torches in sconces both jeweled and plain.  She dressed the part, a flowing black gown with a high waist and a wide neckline, dotted with obsidian – hair the color of ash set free.

                And she ached for it to be anything more than ceremony.

                She surveyed the Fire Hall from the concealment of a curtain, frowning.  Too many of the court had already adopted the style of the conquerors, pale, uncertain colors in winding, binding ties and stays.  It was a scramble for favor, pure and simple – since the queen herself was old and intractable, the empire would need a figurehead, and why not one of them?

                She suppressed the feeling her people were about to dance on her grave.

Thursday Thoughts

I am pondering moving this feature to Tuesday Thoughts - my Thursdays are frequently insane.  On the other hand, maybe insanity is a good perspective to write from.

Today, I want to touch briefly upon on why I refer to Flow as contemporary fantasy rather than urban fantasy - even though it's set in 2007, so by now, it is very technically historical fantasy.  (Really, the only noticeable evocation of this is the rarity of mobile technology - or if you add up the travel times / dates / day of the week.)  Realizing that the distinction is often a marketing one, I still prefer the term because it gives a better snapshot of the focus.

First of all, the preconceptions that the term urban fantasy generates have in some cases become highly specific.  Besides the contemporary, real-world setting, the familiar type for these books is:  a first-person storyline, set in a big city (more on that later) with a dark tone and a strong romantic subplot.  Whether or how much of this is in any formal definition of urban fantasy is a different point - these are the books most people think of when you say "urban fantasy."  Flow fits none of these secondary attributes.  I might argue the story is a little dark, but I also will cheerfully admit that I don't know what I'm talking about where dark is concerned.

Second of all, the literal definition of urban fantasy is "fantasy set in a city."  It doesn't intrinsically imply a modern or even a real-world setting.  I think you'd find very few people using the term urban fantasy to refer to a secondary world city tale, but the connotation is there.  And well ... while Flow has some stops in cities - Cincinnati and Boston - it's primarily a traveling tale, a tale of small towns, suburbs and wilderness.

Contemporary fantasy, on the other hand, carries less of the baggage - and on the accuracy front, it says what it is:  fiction set in the present day.  Simple, clean, uncomplicated.

None of this is ironclad, of course, but it's the thought process behind my labels.

Anatomy of an Idea: Dancing Day

Dancing Day started out as a challenge over at fantasy-writers.org - and moreover, it was a holiday challenge.  To be specific, the challenge was to take five elements associated with Christmas and use them ... however the writer might see fit.

The elements were:

- An annual festival
- A normally earthbound form of transport that flies
- An unorthodox way of entering a house
- A tree that isn't fulfilling its usual function
- A special type of song
 
(I do realize, in hindsight, that I cheated:  my "earthbound" form of transport is more properly a waterbound form of transport.)

I knew as soon as I saw the challenge that I wanted to incorporate mouth music, a traditional Scottish music style that was invented when musical instruments were banned.  This historical backdrop heavily influenced the story I ended up telling.  There's also a bit of a bratty call-out to this in the story:  the term for this mouth music is "puirt a beul," while the setting is the (port) city of Abeul.  (The original title was Mouth Music, in fact.)

The unusual method of entering a house followed next - teleportation and the Hoppers.  I quickly decided I wanted them to youngsters who lost their powers as they aged, and I knew this element would be important to the story somehow.

From there, I built the rest of the story.  Some of the elements and details developed while I was writing, especially the other Hoppers, who almost created themselves as I wrote.  And I certainly wasn't entirely sure what was in store for Taris and how it would affect the ending until I approached that final scene - but it all came together.

Dancing Day in A&A!

Abyss and Apex has just released its 4th Quarter Issue, including my Dancing Day!  Check it out ...

Plasma Frequency and Mythocraft Now Out!

Plasma Frequency has just released its second issue, containing Mythocraft - best described as a (loosely) steampunk take on Greek mythology.  Check it out here:

Plasma Frequency Issue 2

Me and Cooking

So here's a confession:  I enjoy cooking.

I get a similar sort of satisfaction from it as I do working on a story or harp arrangement.  (I have a cooking blog over at Evil Overlady Cooks.)  On the face of it, though, this doesn't make much sense.  Sure, it's creation in the broadest sense - I'm making something out of raw materials - but it's not all that different from putting together an Ikea desk, and I'm sure most people wouldn't consider that a creative outlet.  At present, my substitutions, omissions and additions to recipes are fairly minimal.  I'm still a fairly by-the-book cook.

So I'm not sure what it is, precisely, that satisfies that creative urge.  Maybe it's the combination of recipes - I tend to throw together some fairly oddball menus.  Maybe it's the fact that (let's be honest) my ambition outstrips my skill, so I often find myself improvising to get back on track.

Or maybe it's less to do with the creative instinct as the emotions at the core of it.  I have a very Italian mother:  food is love.  And it's that sense of acceptance and contentment that I get every time I cook ... even when something ends up all over the floor.

Anyone else feel creative in the kitchen?

Thursday Thoughts

I'm baaaack!

Since we're on the countdown to the World Fantasy Convention (with its dual themes of urban and gothic fantasy) and since Flow has now been out for six months, I'd like to talk a little bit about what makes a setting work for me in contemporary fantasy.  (I do consider Flow contemporary fantasy rather than urban fantasy.  I'm aware this is largely a matter of nomenclature, but I have specific reasons for it - more in another post, probably.)

For me, the best reason to use our modern-day world in a story is the wealth of background available in the history - and the present! - of the occult, mythology and religion.  Strong contemporary fantasy takes these elements and builds the backdrop from them ... or if it starts from another concept, incorporates them in the development.  To me, to simply slap some magic invented wholecloth onto a private detective or ballet dancer or accountant misses the point.

As in any other fantasy, the magical element needs to be an integral part of the setting; it needs to feel organic to the history and beliefs of the people practicing it.  If the magic is divorced from the rest of the world, it becomes unconvincing.  Now, I've focused on real world "magic" here because it seems the most obvious and easiest source, and to me it's also the richest, but it's not the only option:  it's also possible to build modern-day supernatural on scientific concepts.  (It's why I was so fascinated by Rachel Caine's Ill Wind and her very climatically sound weather wardens, though I was less interested in the other concepts she introduced.  Those felt less organic, to me.)

Another nice benefit is that a reference to history makes the magic feel suddenly authentic.  I handle the arcane elements of an online roleplaying game where the Great Depression was the creation of a group of dark mages intent on feeding off the despair and emotional pain of the victims.  History often seems so random - providing an occult explanation can be very satisfying.

On the other hand, contemporary fantasy doesn't need to select a mythological beast, divination method, historical legend and use it one hundred percent by the book.  A twist, interpretation change or new direction can give a writer new options ... and offer a pleasant surprise for those readers versed in the base mythos.  Of course, these changes can't throw the baby out with the bathwater - there had better be an explanation for why the bulk of folklore says something different.

So that's my take on the best way to incorporate the supernatural in a modern setting.

GoodReads Review: A Coalition of Lions

A Coalition of Lions by Elizabeth Wein
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

The quasi-historical story of the daughter of King Arthur, A Coalition of Lions sends its heroine, Goewin, to Africa and Aksum to face a perilous political situation and a hostile would-be bridegroom. My initial impression of this novel was negative for a reason that was only partly the fault of the writing: nowhere on the book does it clearly indicate that this is the second novel of a series, so when the first several pages were consumed by a rapidfire, rather dry summary of what had gone before, I was irritated and felt the author had started the book in the wrong place. Finding out that this was a sequel, I let go of my indignation - but I still feel that the recap was hamhandedly handled for new readers.

As a personal aside, I was further disconcerted by the initial names. In Welsh mythology (which meets / intersects with Arthurian) Goewin is the foot-holder (and later, the wife) of high king Math, and Lleu is the son of the king's subsequent foot-holder ... anyhow, this tangent to explain why, among the mythologically-saturated opening, I was dearly confused to find Goewin and Lleu as sibling children of Artos.

Once past this rocky start, however, I found myself absorbed in the characters and conflict. The narrative is lyrical yet in many ways, minimalist - the descriptions are evocative yet sparse, prompting the reader to fill in the blanks without noticing that the gaps exist. And despite the fact that almost the entire novel is a series of conversations, often political and sometimes stiltedly formal by the necessity of the venue ... it was never dull, always absorbing. Telemakos flashes through here as an absolutely superb portrait of brilliant childhood.

This is a rich and distinct narrative, a striking read ... but not without its flaws. The love story implied within leaves me unconvinced. While I am the first person to bang my head against the wall over romances too-obviously wrought, this one goes in the other direction: it was so subtle and poorly supported that I didn't believe it. Similarly, Goewin's later change of opinion towards Constantine didn't seem supported by actions in the narrative - and since that very much affected the outcome of the book, I found it weakened the plot.

Overall, this was an absorbing read despite its flaws. I don't feel completely satisfied by the novel and its resolutions, but it was an enjoyable visit to another time and place.

View all my reviews

Now over at Every Day Poets ...

My poem "The Rivers of Nowhere" is now up and available for your reading and voting:

http://www.everydaypoets.com/the-rivers-of-nowhere-by-lindsey-duncan/

Enjoy!

GoodReads Review: The Last Alchemist

The Last Alchemist: Count Cagliostro, Master of Magic in the Age of Reason by Iain McCalman
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is my second time reading this book, the exploration of the fascinating, enigmatic Count Cagliostro - of many other names and just as many roles, from charlatan to spiritual guide. Rather than present a balanced, chronological biography, the book provides a wealth of setting, detail and strategically placed "snapshots" surrounding seven key episodes of Cagliostro's life. The years before and after these episodes are summarized in brief, interwoven when needed for context. Each chapter is about more than Cagliostro, although he is the star: one learns a great deal about his friends, victims, antagonists, kings, queens and luminaries, the social history of the times ...

There is very little dry about this book: it is presented with flourishes that sometimes resemble those of a gifted fiction writer. It is a joy to read, comprehensive without being dense, presenting its subject matter without apology - thoughtfully, but without trying to interpret too much for the reader.

Highly recommended, and not just as a biography of its subject. It does a great job of touching upon the period world and some of its central figures (Casanova, Catherine the Great), as well.

View all my reviews

Sale!

MindFlights just picked up "The King's Passing" - actually a rewrite of the first story I ever wrote, set in the same world as "Burning The Midnight Oil" (which NewMyths printed).  Publication date when I have it!

Now Available ...

My "Didn't I Mention ...?" is out in the Summer issue of White Cat Publications - and it's their own flash piece!  Check it out ...

http://www.whitecatpublications.com

The inspiration behind this story was an hour writing prompt to tell a story out of sequence.  I decided to approach it backwards ... sort of ...

Another Sale - Every Day Poets ...

... picks up "The Rivers of Nowhere," which I loosely classified as a fantasy poem, but may be more in the slipstream (did *I* just use that word?  Woah) vein.  It was originally intended to use only the letters in the title; it drifted from that design, but there's still some careful choice of words to produce a certain sound.

Mythocraft sold to Plasma Frequency

Plasma Frequency Magazine (http://www.plasmafrequencymagazine.com/) just picked up Mythocraft - my (loosely) steampunk take on Greek mythology.  Stay tuned here for details, as ever.

Dancing Day sold!

My short story, "Dancing Day," just sold to Abyss and Apex!  This is my third sale to A&A, and ... they seem to keep getting longer ... clearly I need to send them a novella next time ...

Anyhow, this one was originally an FWO challenge.  Gotten so many good stories (and great feedback) from that, I ought to try it again ...

Interview

I'm interviewed over at Lee-Ann Graff-Vinson's blog:

Author Lindsey Duncan Shows Us Her "Flow"

Sunday Snippets

Here is the opening of Just The Messenger, hopefully soon available from Darwin's Evolutions.  As a note, this is my version of the story - the editor hasn't taken a pass yet - so may differ somewhat from the final version:


In the borderlands binding the northern kingdoms together, babies died frequently and were only named on their sixth birthday, usually for traits they showed.  Thorn had just such a name.

The rider crouched, stretching out worn leg muscles from the trip through the shadow realms.  The guardpost had been burned down to its foundations, if it could be called that - it was only a hut, occupied when the village beyond could spare an able-bodied man.  The scent of smoke and charred flesh stirred dread in the rider, unwelcome visions of the scene.  The tethered mare did not react to the stench, but there were reasons for that.

The figure rose, then hesitated.  Under the hood, one dark eye flickered with apprehension.  Easier to keep walking, not confirm the carnage.  Thorn had a mission, one that did not call for detours.

Yet forward into overhanging trees, through the arch cut by frequent passage.  The crows had beat the rider there, as had other scavengers.  Impossible to guess how many homes, though probably not more than thirty.  Just enough that every farmer could walk to his land.

"Scion?  Are you real, or is my mind finally betraying me?"

Thorn might have initially mistaken the figure for a corpse, so grey was his skin, so unkempt his appearance.  The man straightened, flashed a smile that missed half a tooth.

He strutted closer, poked Thorn in the chest.  "Real, then," he said, "or I'm poking a tree I never noticed growing here before."

Thorn resisted the urge to bat the hand away, irritated.  "What happened here, old man?"

"Old?"  Blue eyes swept down, and he chuckled hoarsely.  "I suppose I am, at that.  Thank you for the reminder.  You can call me Squirrel."

"I'm Thorn.  Are there any other survivors?"

Squirrel sighed gustily.  "None.  The raiders came, they slaughtered everyone like animals - except the animals.  Those they set loose.  Some came back to their barns."  He smiled without mirth.  "I would be eating well, except it's beyond my ability to kill a pig on my own."

Thorn placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and started to lead him up the path.  "I'm sorry for your loss.  I'll escort you to the next town, where you'll be provided for."

Squirrel cocked his head, an inquiring gleam in his eyes.  "Where are you bound, young Scion?"

"Coerth's capital.  Dangerous things are happening," Thorn said.  "The king needs to know before it's too late."

Thursday Thoughts

I wonder if I would be able to cheer myself out of my allergy funk by writing a story about evil flowers, poisoning innocent industrialists?

I wonder if people would flame me horribly for writing such a thing?

Natural pollution is terrifying.

How about a flowering tree that produces curses instead of buds?

Or a race that wins a war by planting trees on the opposing territory.  Spy trees?  Stealth trees!  Poisonous trees.

I'm not even going to get into ambulatory trees.  That would be terrifying.

I've gotten good ideas from my misery before.  Maybe it will happen again.

Sunday Snippets

I've finally been writing again, rather than editing or working on blog posts, etc.  Here's a recent bit from "The Base of the World," the short story I'm now trying to finish about a healer dealing with a mysterious disease:

"Liva!"
 

It was the second time she had been awakened from a sound sleep by shouting; she dreaded it before she even fully recovered to consciousness.  She blinked her eyes open to see Viresi.
 

"Liva, why are you sleeping?" the girl persisted.
 

She drew herself up, stung.  "I'm exhausted.  I can only do so much.  It will have to wait."
 

"What about Garra?"
 

She shook her head, irritated, about to snap at the child.  The resemblance to - the memory of - Islu stopped her.  "Garra?  She's fine - not fine," she amended, "but she'll be my next target.  She might complain even more when she's cured, but she will be."
 

"Did you really not look at her?" Viresi pressed.
 

Liva sank back on her heels.  Though still bleary, she focused on the words rather than reacting.  "Her cough was worse … almost overwhelming … I didn't look at her colors," she admitted.  "I didn't have time."  Though she offered the justification, she didn't focus on it as the first part of her statement sunk in.  "I didn't look.  I didn't see how badly off she was …"
 

"No," Viresi agreed.  "You didn't."
 

How had the child known?  She wasn't there … Liva pushed it off in the face of a sense of foreboding.  She rose in a rush.  "I should go."
 

"And I will come with you."
 

Healer and girl moved swiftly through the camp.  This time, Liva didn't notice the eyes upon them, breaking into a sprint.  She was stunned to find she had the energy.
 

She burst into the infirmary to find Delis and Nethin clustered at the dour woman's bedside, soothing her with words, conversing in wary whispers.  She placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and nudged him aside with a strained smile for Nethin.
 

"We were just debating if we should send for you," Nethin said, "but we figured you knew her condition before you left."
 

Liva pressed down the stab of guilt as Garra turned her head to stare, eyes flitting back in her head.  "You finally decided …"  Another coughing spasm took her, a full-body shudder.  She gripped the sheets to steady herself.  Lina reached out to hold her shoulders and delved into her healer's sight.  What she saw chilled her:  the blue mire had spread out through the bulk of Garra's body, thinning only towards the extremities.
 

Liva was not fully rested, but there was no time to build up her reserves - and as with the wounded man earlier, she could not begin with the subtle, delicate work, for the disease had twined thickest around Garra's lungs, twisting hard.  At best, permanent damage that would make the woman's current occupation impossible; at worst …