Category: game of thrones

Magna Carta for Fantasy

The “Magna Carta” is an idea I discovered in No Plot? No Problem! by Chris Baty.

Basically, it’s a list of all the things — plot elements, character types, settings, themes, language, etc. — that you enjoy in a story. Then, with said list as inspiration, you can begin crafting your own story, filling it with as many things from your magna carta as possible, thus ensuring that your novel will be something you enjoy writing. We are all readers first, after all, so if we write what we enjoy reading we will create books that excite us.

I taught a Creative Writing class a couple of years ago, and I used the Magna Carta idea with my students (we also did the Anti-Magna Carta, which is from Baty’s book as well). I modeled it for them by creating my own Magna Carta for fantasy literature. I am not sure it’s an exhaustive list of the things I like, but it includes many elements that I enjoy. Some of them are easily found in today’s fantasy genre, but some (“Stories where violence doesn’t always save the day” or “Mothers and non-traditional protagonists”) are harder to come by (at least to my knowledge).

My Magna Carta for fantasy stories:

  • Magical treasures
  • Lots of magic (but it’s not commonplace)
  • Magic that is numinous, mysterious, and unpredictable
  • Magic that involves transformations
  • Lost/forgotten empires
  • Places/people/things being lost to the mists of time
  • Dragons
  • Female characters being skillful/having professions
  • Characters who aren’t fighters still having an impact on the story
  • Stories where violence doesn’t always save the day
  • Desert settings
  • Cosmopolitan cities
  • Mysterious towers
  • Sinister magicians
  • People who can do a special craft
  • Musicians
  • Music
  • Dungeon crawls
  • Writing that is poetic and mythic
  • Mothers and non-traditional protagonists
  • Characters with lofty dreams
  • Highly flawed characters who have to persevere
  • Characters who need to atone
  • Stories about forgiveness
  • Stories where characters go on an inner journey as well as an outward journey
  • Journeys to strange, new lands

I’m especially interested in women who have professions that aren’t the trope-y, “masculine” professions like assassin or soldier. I want to read (and write) stories about women who are craftspeople, midwives, brewers, scholars, cartographers, apothecaries, and more. I’m interested in women who are mothers who also GET TO HAVE ADVENTURES. Or perhaps a fantasy novel with an elderly person as the protagonist. I’m curious to see how such non-traditional protagonists would thrive in a fantastical world filled with danger and magic. I feel as if far too often, the “ordinary” folk who are tasked with a quest are either A.) young people or B.) “ordinary” men who used to be soldiers/warriors/wizards/ etc. George R.R. Martin explored some of these non-traditional protagonists in his A Song of Ice and Fire series (characters like Sansa and Catelyn), but he still stayed mostly in the realm of high-born people. Not many POVs from regular folk.

However, even though I’m interested in “regular folk” (especially mothers and elderly people), this doesn’t mean I want a low-magic story. What I really love seeing is how ordinary people deal with the numinous, the extraordinary, the strange, the magical. And preferably, they deal with these things in a non-violent way. Not that I don’t enjoy sword-play and action scenes (I do), but it would be nice to have more fantasy that didn’t lead to climactic battles and bloodshed. I’m guilty of this tendency myself; Merlin’s Last Magic, thus far, has lots of violence and killing. But in future stories and novels, I’m interested in exploring how to tell a rousing tale that doesn’t end with a big battle or a violent death.

Overall, the Magna Carta is a useful tool for writers. It’s not meant to limit or restrict writers from pursuing an idea that might not fit their “preferred list,” but instead, it gives them a clearer idea of what they love and what they’re interested in exploring. The things on my magna carta get me excited to start writing; they stir my imagination and feed my muse.

The Golden Age of Geekdom

thI decided to set my series, Merlin’s Last Magic, in the 1980s because, for me, the 1980s were the “golden age” of fantasy-related stuff: Conan. Red Sonja. Labyrinth. The Dark Crystal. The Last Unicorn. The Neverending Story. Ladyhawke. Dragonslayer. Legend. The Dragonlance Chronicles. HeroQuest.

I grew up in the 80s, and because fantasy seemed to be everywhere during that decade, my imagination was fertilized by all of these movies, books, and board games. In writing Merlin’s Last Magic, I wanted to give a little nod to the decade that nurtured me.

But as I was preparing to write this post, I realized that perhaps the 1980s weren’t really the golden age. Or, if they were the golden age, then perhaps they’ve given birth to an even more exciting and fertile age for fantasy genre stuff: Right now.

I contend that perhaps it wasn’t the 80s at all that were THE decade for fantasy lovers; perhaps that time is now. Perhaps we are living in the true golden age at this very moment (the Platinum Age, perhaps). Just look around: fantasy and science fiction have never been more mainstream or popular, from HBO’s Game of Thrones to the Marvel movies to fantastic writers like Patrick Rothfuss, Brandon Sanderson, and Neil Gaiman (all of whom are being courted by Hollywood for big-budget adaptations of their work).

Being “Geek” is cool. Nerds no longer hide their obsessions but display them proudly. San Diego Comic-Con (not to mention the dozens of other conventions that have gained prominence in the last decade) has become Mecca not just for comics nerds and sci-fi geeks but for big-name celebrities and the mass media at large. When I was twelve, I tried to hide my love for J.R.R. Tolkien and Middle-Earth; when I turned twenty, Peter Jackson’s The Fellowship of the Ring was debuting in theaters, and suddenly, I didn’t have to hide anymore.

I think this new geek renaissance can be credited to both Jackson’s films and the Harry Potter phenomenon. Without either of these two creations, my fellows geeks and I would most likely still be part of a niche genre, something that the “wider world” looks down on with slight disdain. But because Jackson’s movies were incredible international hits, and because Harry Potter continues to be a straight-up juggernaut in the film and literature worlds, suddenly being “geeky” was cool. The media at large (and the people who consume it) are always gravitating towards what makes money, what sells. And starting with Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings movies, fantasy started to sell, and sell hard.

The success of the Game of Thrones TV show has cemented fantasy as a genre that adults can and should enjoy. Now we have TV shows like The Magicians, Vikings, and American Gods, (not to mention the Marvel and DC superhero shows), and no one is hiding their fandom for these SFF stories anymore. We are allowed to like (and even love) fantasy and science fiction in a way that was just not possible in the 1980s.

But we can’t dismiss the decade of my childhood. The golden age of geekdom that we are experiencing now is a direct result of the fantasy and sci-fi of the Reagan Decade. What do so many of today’s popular novelists, showrunners, and screenwriters have in common? We came of age in the 1980s (or at least, many of us did). We grew up soaking in the realms of Krynn and Fantasia and Thra. Our heroes were Conan and Molly Grue. We played endless hours of D&D and HeroQuest and Warhammer and turned all of those adventures into our first, fumbling stories and novels. Without the incubation of the 1980s, the golden age of today wouldn’t have happened.

For my own part, The Thirteen Treasures of Britain and the Merlin’s Last Magic series wouldn’t exist without the countless hours I spent reading Rosemary Suttcliffe’s Arthurian books, watching Excalibur when I was probably too young to be watching it, and playing Pendragon role-playing game (which, technically, I first discovered in 1990, but who’s counting). I learned to tell stories — and I learned to love telling stories — from reading MERP and RuneQuest and other fantasy RPGs, and then creating my own fantasy worlds in which to role-play. I fell in love with the realms of heroes by devouring books by Raymond E. Feist and Tracy Hickman & Margaret Weis. I became lost in the kingdoms of Faerie by watching Labyrinth, The Neverending Story, and  Willow like they were on an unending loop.

The stories I write now are the children of the stories I wandered in during my childhood. We are in an incredibly fertile age for fantasy and science fiction. But we cannot discount the debt we owe to the 80s. The cheesy special effects, the cliche story lines, the underground and misfit-like nature of these movies and books are there for us to see, in the hindsight of 30+ years. But these things do not diminish the magic and sway these stories still hold over us. If the future looks bright for SFF, it’s only because our destinies were forged in the fires of the gloriously geeky 80s.

Television and the Art of Plot: Why TV’s Game of Thrones is now better than the books

I feel like George R.R. Martin should know better. He used to write for television, after all. And yet his A Song of Ice and Fire books have gotten more bloated, more meandering, and more convoluted as the series has progressed. He’s added dozens of new characters (that detract from the old characters that we are already invested in), created new plot threads even as old ones haven’t been resolved, and succumbed to the ever-bloated “world building” of riverboat rides, turtles, and copious amounts of dysentery. It’s like he’s completely forgotten the lessons learned from writing for television.

Here’s the thing: television writers (and movie writers too) know how to plot (even if they don’t always write the most original of plots). In the classes and workshops I’ve attended for TV writing, one of the biggest lessons we learned was how to plot out an episode of a television show. Before one line of dialogue or description is written, the entire episode is planned out — from A story to B, C, and D story. Act breaks are planned, even if the show doesn’t air with commercials. And the basic structure of three or four or five act storytelling is employed. We build the individual beats of the story before we even begin writing the script. And we move beats around, add beats, take out beats, revise beats — all in an effort to build a scaffold before filling it in with the “guts” (i.e.: character, description, dialogue, theme). It’s not that character takes a backseat in TV writing — on the contrary, television is actually ideal for telling a character-based story — but TV writers know that they only have 60 minutes (or 48, or 22, or whatever) to tell the story, and they have to make sure that the storylines are balanced, that the episode will have dramatic moments balanced out with smaller character moments, that the storylines will all have some kind of thematic or plot-driven cohesion. To see all of this illustrated, look no further than Game of Thrones season 5.

I’ve enjoyed the Game of Thrones TV show since it debuted, but it wasn’t until season 4 that I really felt the show began to surpass the books. Not to beat up on Martin too much (he did, after all, create this amazing world and these endlessly fascinating characters), but I think somewhere around A Feast for Crows, he lost the threads of his narrative. I’ve read all five books, and I’m sure I will continue to read the other books as they come out, but I’m not as heavily invested in the novels as I once was. The TV show, on the other hand, is pretty much “can’t miss” TV for me at this point. With The Americans done for the season, Game of Thrones is my “IT” show. And I am LOVING season 5 and the new developments in the stories of some of its characters.

In the books, Sansa and Littlefinger are in the Vale, awaiting Sansa’s marriage to Harry the Heir. In the books, Arya is being trained by some priest of the faceless men. In the books, Tyrion is traveling all over Essos and *almost* running into Dany… but not quite. In the books, minor character Jeyne Poole is betrothed to Ramsay Bolton. In the books, Jaime is hanging out in the Riverlands, being Jaime. And Brienne? She’s having a run-in with Lady Stoneheart. Meanwhile, we’ve got a slew of new characters — from the smelly Greyjoy brothers and their smelly, stupid drowned god, to useless Quentyn Martell, to Jon Connington and Griff and who the hell else I don’t even know or care — and there are, like, a million more minor and side and supporting characters and everything is getting huge and complicated and very sprawling.

But the show has wisely decided to cut storylines like Lady Stoneheart, the Greyjoy bros, and Quentyn Martell. They’ve wisely decided to start bringing storylines TOGETHER as opposed to expanding them in a never-ending spider’s web of convoluted red herrings (and new characters we have no connection to). Instead, the show has decided to bring its already-huge cast of characters together in new and interesting ways. And not surprisingly, when these characters, whom we’ve watched develop over four seasons, are brought together in situations wrought with conflict, very compelling drama ensues. For example, it makes so much sense to have Jaqen be the one to train Arya. After all, she already has a connection to him, they have a history, so now her scenes are filled with great interplay between two characters who have a history together. Same with Tyrion traveling with Varys. We already know and love these characters, so now we get to see them as they encounter new conflicts and obstacles. And we have a connection to both of them.

Of course, the biggest change in the show this season has been the Sansa storyline, and it is perhaps the most dramatic and compelling storyline as well. Instead of Sansa and Littlefinger interacting with a slew of new characters we have no history with, they are thrust right in the middle of a crazy situation involving characters we already love and hate. Sansa is in the North again. She IS Lady Stark. “The North remembers.” Theon is there. Will he rescue her? Will Ramsay treat her with the same sadistic violence he has used on others? Will Littlefinger use this marriage to overthrow the Boltons and claim the North for himself (through Sansa)? Will Stannis attack and “rescue” Sansa? Or will Brienne? Or will Brienne pretend to join Stannis’s army in order to get close to him and exact her revenge?

By putting all of these characters in intersecting storylines, we’re getting the most drama from the situation. The TV writers are pulling the characters and stories together, as opposed to Martin’s method of pulling everything further and further apart. And it’s because TV writers know that part of the reason we enjoy stories is so we can follow our favorite characters through their trials and tribulations. From a storytelling standpoint, it makes sense to have these character interact WITH EACH OTHER as opposed to strangers. And it’s economical storytelling too. It keeps things from getting out of hand and the plot getting too bloated. And of course, from a practical standpoint, it saves the show from hiring new actors to play new characters. Game of Thrones already has a huge cast for a TV show; there’s no way they could continue to have all the new characters Martin introduces every book. And yet, this practicality is precisely why the show’s plot has transformed into a better story than the one in the books. At a certain point, the story needs to contract, it needs to reach climaxes, it needs to explode with drama. The TV show is doing this. And my guess is it’s doing this because the show writers sat down before the season and plotted out how they could tell the story in the limited time and episodes they had. They figured out the best, most economical way to get all these characters together, interacting, having conflict, and moving the story forward. In other words, figuring out the plot. Writing the beats.

Martin is famously (or infamously, depending on your point of view) a “gardener.” He doesn’t plan, he simply writes. He tends his garden of words and characters and plot lines, but doesn’t have a detailed outline or master-plan. His method is the exact opposite of how most TV shows are written. Television can’t afford to just make it up as they go along; they must have a plan before shooting starts, and that means writing beats and outlining the story. Actors have to be hired; sets have to be constructed and locations chosen. All these very real, very practical concerns are a boon to the TV writer because now she must plan ahead. And that’s why everyone is converging on Winterfell this season on Game of Thrones. They already have the set. They already have the actors. Why not put them together in an explosive, dramatic situation and watch the story unfold? And frankly, it’s a better story than the one Martin is currently writing.

I am a firm believer in not turning novels and stories into imitations of TV and movie scripts. I don’t want every book to read like it’s the treatment for a future movie deal. But when it comes to plotting, to story structure, to the core elements that make a story work, TV and film writers often have that stuff in their bones. They marinate in that stuff. They are *trained* to analyze how plot works and how stories can be told in a sufficient amount of time.

Novels and short stories don’t have to worry about the time constraints of TV and film (and theatre!), but I still think fiction writers can learn something from their dramatist cousins. New cities and new locations and new characters may contribute to the “world building” in a novel, but at a certain point, I as the reader do not want never-ending world building. I want drama. I want conflict. And I want it with the characters I care about, the characters I’ve already established a bond with, the characters I’m invested in. Those who write for the dramatic arts (TV, film, theatre) understand this. Novelists should understand this too.

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