The Wordsmith's Anvil
It is tempting, as a writer, to conform to one of the popular genres; fold together the de-rigeour plotlines, bend and hammer in reader's favourite character types, heat and finally temper it into a shining example of sure-to-sell. It is so easy to do. If you do it right then you may have a functional knife, decent sword or even another hammer to shape more words on your anvil. You may well be successful. That is good, do you not think?
Maybe.
Molten Words Cast
Out of the mould it pops. Smooth off the cast lines and flash, polish it into...
...into what?
Exactly what the mould tells it to be.
You see, you take your mould, fill it with the molten result of your works and leave it to cool. After a time, you crack it open and out comes....an exact copy of what the mould was made from.
Vampires who have various existencial crises. angels who, in spite of having god-like powers, still chase after a much ignored young girl who secretly has reality shattering powers. The all-powerful evil overbeing who commands legions of fanatical followers and can murder anyone they like with a mere thought with the hidden weakness that everyone had forgotten about, killed by a precocious pubescent...
Funnily enough nobody asks what happens once the hero and love interest share a kiss and the final page is turned. The vast army or empire does not simply shuffle it's feet and decide that unfettered evilness was a poor career choice. Will the minor villains and henchpeople turn good and they live in the cliche everyone loves?
What do you think?
A Mighty Sword Forgéd
Yes, the accent is intentional for we are about to enter into a fantasy-based extended metaphour...
The hero of the tale will often be seeking a weapon of some sort with which to end the Evil One forever.
No simple sword, hammer, arrow or pointy-murder-thing will suffice: a simple and enthusiastic poke into a convenient soft bit will not end the threat which means to end everything that is Good forever!
It is never that easy.
A Quest must be undertook, many dangers faced and disparate characters who do not get on will find common ground and form an incredible team. Some of them might die, a traitor will be uncovered, maybe a deathbed (or death rock) redemption or two might take place. All good and fine.
The weapon being sought will be of incalculable power meaning that the Bad Fellow will be utterly destroyed by it. It might be somewhat harmful or devisive to our Bold Adventurers too but that adds to the depth and drama does it not?
A Sword is not Simply a Pointy Metal Stick
Now, not to bore you with the technicalities involved in turning non-sword-shaped metal into edged death, it is a long and arduous process. One must select the metal, have a picture of the end result in one's mind. One must bend, fold, hammer, smooth, beat, heat, temper and quench just right or one's weapon will break the first time you try to beat someone with it.
For this example, too, one must also enbue the item with magic, secret knowledge or really, really fancy ormamentation in order to make sure said Evil One becomes the requisite number of Evil Pieces (none of which will be placed in a microwave oven to burn the hero's house down and kill his parents).
One can make a sword mould and pour all the right ingredients into it. One can wait for it to cool and free it from its prison. One can tidy it up, polish it, give it a decent edge. One can even make it shine like a mirror. One can do all of that but the first time your weapon meets a master (or mistress) forged equivalent, it will snap in two with a rather disappointing crack sound. The crack of disappointment, they call it. Whomever it may be that they are.
Start with the Basics
As the metalsmith starts with - you got it - metal, what does the wordsmith start with?
That's right! With their brain! We got you, drew you right in and played one of those awful context jokes on you!
Actually, some might call it inspiration, that ephemerous output of the Muses, others call it research. It is the same thing though, a wordsmith's base material.
Words are, afterall, simply a process of re-arranging 26 letters into different configurations. This brings us to the First Contentious Moment; writers and storytellers. Anyone can be a writer but few have what it takes to be a story teller.
Five Minute Argument Break....
You clicked on it, didn't you? I know, it's an awful joke but it keeps me amused.
Author's Self-Promotion Moment.
So, of course the author is going to mention his own work here. Why not? This is my Blog, thank you very much!
In this case, I am using it as an illustration so please forgive my cupidity.
To those who have read either the current draft or the prequel: Collected Preludes (released February 21st on all your favourite platforms, order today!) one thing may well stand out. Not just the odd British spelling and strange sense of humour. What might draw the most inquisitive of minds is this; the subversion of assumptions, the twisting of expectations and the fact that the mountains of source material are questioned at each and every point.
All the stories are true, or at least that used to be.
One popular genre these days involves the Bible of Christianity, just like The Chronicles of Enoch does. This, in its way is a subversive genre started by that rather popular series of novels which started everyone wondering about what that ancient Italian Polymath was really up to with his religious paintings.
A whole sub-genre has since emerged, feeding on the doubts and controversy Mr. Brown stirred up.
The good ones among therm ask the most important of questions; how did it truly begin and how did it change so drastically? What would happen if we could prove that the carpenter from Nazareth actually meant something quite different to what was later attributed to him?
The Dramatic License
Oh, it looks like mine expired. That could be embarrassing (also I am not that young, please don't tell)!
I have mentioned this before because, you might be surprised to learn, it is very important. Dramatic license; not the terrible mockup I created for a few seconds of amusement but the less physical kind.
Storytellers predate writers because, should we believe the archeologists, speech predated writing. Before people discovered that making symbols mean words was the latest thing (all the other up-and-coming civlisations are doing it!) there was only one place to store all the important stuff and make sure it did not vanish forever.
The oral tradition. Travelling storytellers would move from placed to place and, often for a space by the fire, free food and alcohol, would entertain their hosts with stirring tales about the exploits of some heroic figure or other. Perhaps they would include religious or moral instruction into the mixture. They would leave but the story would remain behind, now resident in the heads of those who had just heard it.
The Travelling Story
Now, seeing as the storyteller earned their living from the quality of the stories they told, it was not unknown for a good one to...well...add bits to the original they had heard previously.
Some local flavour, a bit of cultural relevence, seemingly casual observations made on their way into the village/homestead/farm/tavern as well as their own opinions and biases. When they left and a copy of the story remained with the latest recipients thereof, the story may well not be the same as the last version told. In fact, the same story could be getting told, in a variety of slightly different incarnations, in a number of different places at the same time.
One day, newcomers would come the village or, gathered around and, lacking decent television and WiFi, the villagers would retell the story. Perhaps they would go to a local gathering and tell it there. Storytellers being as they are, the urge to stamp their own individuality onto the tale was rarely easy to resist. Lessons and themes important to their culture and society would find their way in. Names might well change in the process, locations, even the ending.
The more the story travelled, from mouth to mouth, ear to ear, the more it changed, the harder it became to recognise the original from the new and shiny version. It is possible that facts were exchanged for the kind of drama which promised food, wine and a warm bed for the night. Maybe the overwhelming need to ensure that an important lesson was learned or vital information passed on was factored in.
That favourite childhood game of "Ethinic Stereotype Whispers" is suddenly quite a significant learning experience.
Gilgamesh became Noah and the list goes on and on. History is as stable and as reliable as the human beings who study and repeat it.
The Point is Reached.
It is easy to conform to a popular genre. Anyone can, with effort and focus, produce a half-decent tale of what people on certain platforms like to read but will your story, neck-deep in the morass, ever be more than one of hundreds?
The point of this article was to illustrate how seemingly mundane and everyday events may well become something quite different.
A young boy on the way to market sell his family's only cow returns with a handful of beans and concocts a fantastical lie.
Two children bearing bread through the dark forest get lost for days and agree on a spine-chilling tale to explain their absence and, to their thinking, avoid a good thrashing.
The human race prefers the gentle lie to the hard truth.
That is, as writers, our job; to bear them along the path of a fantastical tale towards the final truth, the point. Along the way, we entertain them, we show they joy, dispair, shock and perhaps horror. We teach them without their even being aware of it and then, when they arrive at the final page and - in a mixture, we hope, of pleasure and sadness - read the final words they mutter
"Now it makes sense! Now I understand!"
And they smile as they stare off into the space you took them to.
They have accepted the truth without even realising it!
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