Jennifer M. Baldwin

Page 44 of 52

Swords, Dragons, and the Iconography of Fantasy

May 20, 2016 /

DragonsofAutumnTwilight_1984originalI am in the midst of reforging my relationship with fantasy literature. As a youngster, I read a lot of fantasy but fell out of the habit until I hit college. In college, I rediscovered Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, as well as myth and folklore, but it wasn’t until I read G.R.R.M.’s Game of Thrones and Patrick Rothfuss’s The Name of the Wind that I finally got back into reading fantasy that had been published within the last forty years.

Since beginning this blog and restarting my writing career, I’ve been thinking a lot about fantasy as a genre and why we as readers are attracted to it. In one respect, my interest in this question is born out of insecurity. When I was a kid, fantasy lit was decidedly uncool. Being into fantasy lit was the kiss of social death, and for a girl it was even worse. “Female Geek Culture” was not a thing when I was younger. The stigma I experienced from being into “knights and stuff” has carried itself with me even into adulthood. I embrace my fantasy love now and proudly proclaim it to any who care to listen, but I’m still obsessed with legitimizing the genre. I still need my love for fantasy to be  validated.

I also see trends happening in the genre that I’m not entirely sure I like. Not for any larger social/cultural reasons, but simply because my personal tastes seem to be out-of-step with some (but definitely not all) of what’s happening in the genre. To be a little less cryptic: I like my fantasy to be a little more wondrous and a little less mundane. More on that in posts to come.

For now, I want to focus on the “old school” fantasy that I experienced in the 80s and early 90s, and what that fantasy had to offer for me as a bookish kid who for some inexplicable reason had a passion for swords and dragons. Because swords and dragons (and knights, wizards, orcs, giants, castles…) are the very things I want to expound upon.

“Fantasy” as a genre is hard to pin down. On the one hand, the word evokes images of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, of the standard medieval-ish high fantasy that involves quests and monsters. But on the other hand, fantasy can also include a classic film like It’s a Wonderful Life. After all, It’s a Wonderful Life has “magic” in it (Clarence the angel and his ability to erase George Bailey from existence). There is no scientific or realistic explanation for how George gets erased from everyone’s lives; the angel grants George’s wish, and suddenly the film enters this alternate-universe where everything has gone terribly wrong. This is fantasy.

Fantasy can also include contemporary and urban settings — worlds where things of magic (fairies, goblins, werewolves, etc.) exist alongside contemporary things like cars, skyscrapers, and guns. This too is fantasy.

And yet, when I feel the desire to experience a “fantasy story,” I don’t gravitate towards the It’s a Wonderful Life or I Married a Witch variety of fantasy, but instead seek out the Tolkienesque. Occasionally, I’ll seek out urban fantasy, like Lost Girl or the Dresden Files. Sometimes I’ll look for wizard schools like Hogwarts, or hidden worlds like Fantastica. When I want fantasy, I go looking for dragons, not Bewitched.

What I’m proposing is this: The official definition of “fantasy” is not necessarily what fans of the genre are looking for. I would contend that what fantasy fans want is both a certain kind of feeling and a certain kind of iconography.

In other words, we want dragons and swords.

Things can stray from dragons and swords a bit, but the further they stray, the less they satisfy that pure desire for other-ness that fantasy promises. An urban fantasy can still scratch the itch for a fantasy fan because even if the hero fights with a gun, she’s still fighting red caps and giants and ghouls, and Baba Yaga lurks in the shadows of the dark, garbage-filled alleyway. But even when fantasy combines with another sub-genre, it still needs the things of fantasy. A reluctant hero may find a sword  stuck in a tree or he may find a revolver hidden in a suitcase, but only one of these images holds within it the allure of fantasy.

We might complain about “too many elves” in the thousands of Tolkien-ish knockoffs that litter the fantasy shelves, but nevertheless, we still want something… elvish. Call them the Fey or the Tuatha or the Fair Folk, but we want human-like, immortal otherbeings who possess a naturalistic kind of magic and a haunting power over those of us who hail from the world of men. We might complain about “another f***ing orc,” but we still want monsters who come from the same deep recesses of human imagination as Grendel and his kin. We might gripe about the glut of fantasy that is too Euro-centric, but the heroes and creatures and monsters of ALL cultures share in the inexplicable qualities of strangeness, of mystery, of “other-ness,” that fantasy fans crave. The djinn and the leprechaun may be worlds apart, but they both spring from the same well of human imagination that seeks to conjure up something beyond the ordinary world.

This entry into something beyond the ordinary — this desire for fairies and their magic — is what I’ve been seeking lately. I want to go back to the classic tropes, to the skies filled with dragons and the dusty roads traveled by surly dwarves. I’m reading the Pern books for the first time. I’m going to be rereading The Lord of the Rings. I’m making my way through the Dark Is Rising sequence. I’ve got A Wizard of Earthsea on my to-read queue. I’m currently on the hunt for original editions of the Dragonlance Chronicles. I’m re-reading some old copies of the Lone Wolf role-playing adventure books. I finally picked up and read The Neverending Story — a book I’ve wanted to read since I was twelve.

As much as I want the fantasy genre to expand and to refresh itself (simply so that it doesn’t stagnate and calcify into something boring), I don’t want to see the classic iconography of the genre disappear either. I still want warriors on horseback, wielding swords and spears, fighting dragons and goblins in dark forests and ancient castles. The things of fantasy matter. They are the blood and guts of the genre, even if we often dress them up in different skins. These are the things I’ve been craving lately; I want dark lords and even darker crystals. I want dragons. And perhaps, most of all, I want a sword of my very own — a sword with spells woven into the blade, with powers from the otherworld, with an ancient history beyond the mists of time. A sword to vanquish a dragon, or to enchant one.

Work Is Hard When You’re in the First Trimester

March 23, 2016 /

Good news: I’m pregnant. Due in October.

Bad news: I feel nauseated ALL THE TIME. The term “morning sickness” is very misleading. Very misleading indeed. I feel the worst in the evenings, actually. But mornings, afternoons, evenings — they all suck. Just constant stomach churning. It’s like being seasick 24/7, but without a way to get off the boat.

This has slowed my editing of Thirteen Treasures down considerably. It’s also completely stalled my attempts to write the rough draft of book 2 in the series, Ysbaddaden and the Game of Chess.

I’m still working towards my deadlines, but they loom over me like horrible specters now, instead of like the bright beacons they were before.  Before, my deadlines were finish lines I couldn’t wait to cross. I was sprinting and feeling the rush of oncoming victory. But now, I feel mostly dread. If I’m not feeling sick with nausea, I’m falling asleep because being pregnant makes one INCREDIBLY, INSANELY TIRED. And then on top of the physical issues, I’m sick with worry that I won’t finish the books on time.

If this post sounds like I’m whining, I am. I’m whining. A lot.

I listen to self-publishing podcasts, read blogs by indie writers, keep up on the latest strategies for marketing. But nowhere in the vast self-pub world do I see much information about how to get the job done when one is pregnant and also has a toddler at home. I’m beginning to suspect there’s not much out there for pregnant, self-publishing moms because pregnant, self-publishing moms are rarer than yetis.

And yes, my hormones are out-of-whack. Explains my dour mood, doesn’t it?

Anyway, I’ll do my best to keep chugging along.

Onward to Midsummer!

I Will Be Bad at Marketing

March 4, 2016 /

In my twenties, I used to belong to a forum called Tolkien Online. This was when the Peter Jackson LOTR movies were going strong. I had read LOTR twice while in college and became a total fangirl. My love for fantasy literature had been rekindled (see my life’s story for more on that).

I loved Tolkien Online. There were vibrant discussions of LOTR movies, intelligent discussions of Tolkien’s books, threads for debates about religion and philosophy, even a thread dedicated to reciting Grateful Dead lyrics. I spent incredible amounts of time on Tolkien Online.

But then college ended, I got more enmeshed in the Classic Movie Blogosphere (not sure if that’s a proper noun or not, but it feels like it should be), and I fell out of the habit of posting to message boards.

Eventually, real adulthood happened (aka, my 30s), and I fell out of the habit of posting comments on my favorite movie blogs too. Basically, I didn’t have time to read a hundred comments a day and write something witty in response to them. I had a job. I had a family. I sorta, kinda, completely stopped being an active online presence in other people’s playgrounds.  (I never gave up blogging, though. That would be absurd.)

But now that I’m getting ready to publish my first book, I feel like I have to drum up some interest for the book on the interwebz. I have to “find my readers” and “gain an audience” and “market,” and I don’t want to be sleazy about it, I don’t want to just pop into some comments section and blab randomly about my book, or post annoying “Look at me!” posts on a forum where I’m a total noob. I want to make myself part of the community. I want to show that I’m not just a saleslady for my product. I want to be genuine.

So I joined two fantasy literature forums (I won’t say which ones). I didn’t post right away. I spent time reading the different threads and getting to know the lay of the land. And every time I came close to posting something, every time I thought that maybe I’d found the place where I wanted to jump in… I didn’t. I’d hit “reply” and get ready to type. And then… nothing.

I started beating myself up about it: You’ve got to get going! Your book is coming out in June! Establish relationships, build an audience! Make yourself part of these online communities! What are you waiting for? Just do it!

And yet, despite my self-badgerings, I still couldn’t do it.

I’m not in my twenties anymore. I’m not the message board gal I used to be.

It’s not where my head is.

It’s not where my voice is.

It’s not that I think message boards suck or anything. For many people, they are still awesome ways to connect.

But they’re just not for me. I can’t explain why, but I just don’t have anything to add to the conversations on these forums.

My blog is enough. I can ramble into the abyss all I want here.

My books are enough. I can express myself and communicate my ideas through them.

I don’t feel the need to be a commenter. I don’t have the drive to belong to a forum.

And I know this is a liability. I know that for a completely unknown author who doesn’t even have anyone reading her blog, I need to get my name out there. And yet… I’m not feeling it.

I’m more than ready to keyword-ninja my way through the Amazon algorithms, and I’m more than ready to pay for advertising. I’m doing Tim Grahl’s pre-launch strategies as best I can. But I don’t think I can be a full-time forum poster. I don’t think I can start reading a dozen blogs again just so I can get my “name” known in the comments.

If this means career suicide, I guess I’m fine with putting my head in the oven.

And the reason is that even if I did force myself to comment and post on different forums, my heart wouldn’t be in it. I’d be faking. I’d be as disingenuous as the sleaze-oids who post about their books on Twitter every five seconds. If I’m gonna go on Twitter, it’s gonna be so I can retweet awesome pictures of old movie stars. It’s not gonna be to hock my books.

Maybe I’ll do more on GoodReads. That feels more like “me.” If nothing else, I’ll try reviewing some books on there (which I’ve been meaning to do since forever).

But whatever I may do in my as-of-yet-non-existent career in self-publishing, I don’t want to be untrue to myself. I can’t fake things.

And if that means I’ll be bad at marketing, so be it.

Maybe I’ll find another way.

Revision Process, Phase 1

February 16, 2016 /

I’m in the midst of revising my second draft of The Thirteen Treasures of Britain.

Confession time: I’m not going to pay a professional editor. The reason I’m not is because I can’t afford it. Perhaps in time, once I’m selling oodles of books a day, then I can hire a professional copy editor. For now, I must rely upon my own skills.

(Side Note: I’m a high school English teacher during the day — and have been for five years — so I spend most of my time offering revision and editing suggestions to student-writers. I feel like I’ve got a pretty good handle on critiquing other peoples’ writing. Hopefully, I can transfer this skill to my own writing.)

But even if I were paying a professional copy writer, I’d still do a lot of revision myself. Copy editors are going to help with cleaning up the prose and the continuity of the text, but they can’t help with the structure or characterization. Of course, a structural/developmental editor may help with those things, but that kind of editor is even more expensive than a copy editor, and I think at this point in my writing life, I know what needs to be done structurally to make a story work. I’ve had a lot of training in screenwriting, and my teachers hammered structure, characterization, and dialogue into me with repeated force.

Maybe I will hire a copy editor for this book, who knows. The more I think about it, the more I think I could scrounge up $500 for one. But if I can’t manage that amount, then I’ll just make sure to go over my manuscript with incredible attention to detail. It can be done; it just takes a lot of patience.

Right now I’m in the “quick read-through” phase of the revision process: I set the manuscript aside for a couple of weeks, then I pick it up and read it on my kindle just as I would any book. While I read, I make super-quick notes in a separate notebook. I use symbols instead of writing anything lengthy because the symbols are quicker to write down and don’t interfere with the quick read-through process. (N.B.: I stole this idea from James Scott Bell in his excellent book Plot & Structure).

The symbols I use are as follows (again, heavily borrowed from Bell’s book):

Checkmark: Dragging
Star: Sentence-level revision needed (in other words, the prose is wonky or I need to work on paragraphing)
Circle: Need to add material
X: Cuts (either because I’m over-explaining, something’s not working, or I’m telling and not showing)
?: Plot hole/inconsistency

That’s it. I don’t write lengthy notes while I’m doing the quick read-through. The idea is to get an overall sense of the story. One of the reasons for this is that sometimes when I’m doing a read-through, I see a “flaw” and immediately start revising. Then I get lost in the rabbit hole of “tinkering” which is not really revision but just endless shifting of commas and clauses. The quick read-through and symbol system help me avoid getting sucked into this trap.

The other reason for the quick read-through is because I don’t believe a fundamentally flawed book can be fixed in revision. Not to be too gross, but trying to fix a fundamentally flawed book is like trying to polish a turd. Better to just flush that thing and move on.

If the quick read-through reveals that my story isn’t working — that on a structural level, something is off — then I need to start over. Dean Wesley Smith calls this the “redraft.”

When I wrote the first draft of Thirteen Treasures, I didn’t like it. It had some good moments, but overall, I found it to be fatally flawed. So I put it in a drawer and started over. My second draft for Thirteen Treasures is a completely new story. I’ve kept most of the main characters and a few of the settings, but the structure is new, the themes are new, and the overall energy and tone are new. I’m in the midst of the quick read-through now, and I can already say that I enjoy this new story so much better than the old one. It would’ve been a waste of my time to try and fix the problems of the first draft. With this second “redraft,” I’ve got something inherently solid that I know I can work with to make better.

It’s a bit daunting to do a “redraft” because it feels like the time spent with the previous draft was all just wasted time. But honestly, writing a new draft is a lot more fun than struggling to edit something that is fundamentally not good. Sometimes we as writers need to exhale some garbage and clear our creative heads before we can get to writing the good stuff. My first draft of Thirteen Treasures was the stuff I needed to exhale. The second draft was the story I really wanted to write. The quick read-through that I’m in the midst of now has shown me that this second draft is revision-worthy.

After the quick read-through, I’ll move on to Phase 2 of the revision process. More on that later…

2016: The Year of Re-Reads

January 4, 2016 /

I firmly believe that a good book is one you can read again and again. But unfortunately, I haven’t re-read any of my favorites for quite some time. I blame Goodreads, mostly, because it has me all caught up in its “Reading Challenge” thing, so I’ve only been reading new books for the past two years (new to me, not necessarily new to the world).

2016 is going to be different. It’s going to be the “Year of the Re-Reads.”

Harry Potter. All seven.

Lord of the Rings.

The Martian Chronicles.

Out of the Silent Planet.

Stephen King’s On Writing.

In fact, I’ve already embarked on the Great Re-Read of 2016: I’m currently re-reading Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.

(And yes, I’m one of those Americans who is so snooty about her Harry Potter that she insists on reading the British versions).

I had forgotten how very Roald Dahl-ish things are in the beginning. Rowling’s narrator is quite cheeky (especially in the early, tone-setting chapters), and the Dursleys would fit right in with the Veruca Salts and Miss Trunchbulls of the world.

I’m also surprised how quickly it moves. I’m already more than half-way finished, and I just started reading it a few days ago (and I don’t have a lot of time in the day for leisure reading).

I think I might do some book reviews — both of the old re-reads, as well as the new books I am planning to tackle this year. I’ve never really written book reviews before, but I imagine they’re quite like movie reviews (of which I’ve written many).

So far, HP and the Philosopher’s Stone is looking like a positive review. It holds up, even after all these years. I’ll write more when I’m finished it.

The Force Awakens Retells A New Hope (and that’s a good thing)

December 21, 2015 /

SPOILERS AHEAD

First of all, Star Wars: The Force Awakens is good. I needed a second viewing to tell if it was truly good, or if it was just my Star Wars excitement that made it seem good. My second viewing confirmed it: the movie is very good. I was entertained and emotionally invested in the story and characters. This was not something I could say about The Phantom Menace.

But one thing I’ve noticed in reviews and reactions to the new movie is that people feel the need to mention that The Force Awakens is basically a retelling of Episode IV: A New Hope. This mention is made with a bit of a sigh, as if it’s a knock against the new film.

But it shouldn’t be a knock against it. The Force Awakens DOES retell A New Hope’s story, and that’s a GOOD thing. I’m not breaking any new ground by writing this, but A New Hope was successful in large part because the story Lucas wrote followed the Joseph Campbell/Hero with a Thousand Faces/Hero’s Journey thing to perfection. That is why the story resonated with so many people. It’s one of the classic narratives. I won’t go so far as to say it really IS the monomyth or whatever, but it’s a strong narrative structure that storytellers throughout the ages have returned to again and again. In copying A New Hope, The Force Awakens has tapped into one of the greatest story structures in human history.

Continue reading

« Older posts Newer posts »

Original header artwork

Copyright 2015 Chloe Bensinger

Bookshop

I am an affiliate of Bookshop.org and I will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase.

© 2026 Jennifer M. Baldwin

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑