Human Nature in Fantasy

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Human Nature in Fantasy

by S. L. Carlson, YA fantasy author with BWL

 What has been will be again,
    what has been done will be done again;
    there is nothing new under the sun.

~Ecclesiastes 1:9 New International Version (NIV)

(Quote from the Wisdom Books c. 450-180 BCE)

If there is nothing new under the sun, whyever do I continue to write…new stuff? Plus, how can a quote written so long ago be relevant in today’s world of highspeed internet, spaceships, and modern forms of weaponry? It is as relevant as Christopher Booker’s surmise of there being only seven basic plots. For the Ecclesiastes quote, as with the seven plots, concerns human nature and character, not inventions or accomplishments.

Folk and fairy tales are all about human nature, even when morals vary from culture to culture. For example, thievery and trickery is a negative trait in northern European cultures, but in some Native American or Middle Eastern cultures, they are amusing and even admirable—e.g., the old adage “fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me”.  The Brothers Grimm and Edward Lang rewrote folk tales they’d collected to accommodate the minds of their young readers. Also, the many stories in the volumes of Tales from the Arabian Nights were intended for adults-only, unless, like Disney’s treatment of Aladdin, they are sliced, diced, and rewritten for “the gentle mind.”

I own about one hundred thousand folk and fairy tales in print, and countless more on electronical devises. Decades ago I wrote my master’s paper based on folk tales. For me, these are fantasy quick-reads with pow factors, causing my mind to think about history, people, places, fantastical things, and human nature.

Years ago I thought to write about a magical ring but hesitated because of the popularity of LOTR. J.R.R. Tolkien was known for his love of Norse myths and legends. And then I read folk tale after fairy tale involving rings, one had a magic trait to transport, one provided food, and another made someone wearing it invisible. There is nothing new under the sun.

I wanted to write about a unicorn, but not the fluffy-duffy, rainbow kid-type. Take the opposite of that and what have you got? A war unicorn! Whoever thought of such a thing? And then I read about D&D war unicorns. It wasn’t much like my war unicorn, still…nothing new under the sun.

An author of fantasy (like me) takes a little bit of this and a little bit of that, eye of newt and toe of frog, throw them in a cauldron (or swirl them around in your brain sometimes for years), and out will come...

Something New.

http://www.bookswelove.com/authors/carlson-sandy-young-adult/

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(Book 2 coming September 1, 2018)

Shortened Bibliography: Shakespeare-Macbeth; Bible; Christopher Booker; The Inklings of Oxford; Tales of the Arabian Nights (Richard Burton’s edition); Brothers Grimm & Andrew Lang & 100,000+ Folk and Fairy Tales.

www.sandycarlson.com

Movies and Books by Victoria Chatham

For my seventh birthday, I was treated to a trip to the movies to see Walt Disney’s Cinderella. 

Cinderella and her Prince colored my world in a way that books didn’t and since then I've been a die-hard (no pun intended) movie fan. Don’t get me wrong, I love books. I was taught to read at home, pre-school. I was, and am, an avid reader of anything that takes my fancy. My books fueled my imagination, but movies had me holding my breath and perching on the edge of my seat as I watched the action.

I think I was eight or nine when I started going to the Saturday morning movies on a regular basis. It very much depended on whether there was a movie theater where we lived. Moving around with my soldier dad was a bit of a potluck lifestyle. I do remember having to do chores to earn the one shilling and sixpence ticket price to enter those magic portals and sit through a B movie, Pathé news, and then – WOW – the all-important feature film.

The cinemas I remember were more like theaters with their music pits in front of the screen, sometimes with actual live music depending on the movie, curved tiers of seating and fancy boxes and always those magnificent tasseled, velvet drapes. Oh, the anticipation when the lights were dimmed and they opened to reveal that magical silver screen. Girls carrying trays of ice-creams and cigarettes paraded the aisles during the breaks. How I envied them! In my innocence, I thought they saw all the movies they wanted for free. The truth, as I later discovered from a friend who actually got a job in a movie theater, was very different.

I still love going to the movies, but today I see them through different eyes as I’m far more aware of the beats in a movie – especially since reading Blake Snyder’s book ‘Save the Cat.’ Although Blake passed away in 2009, his trilogy of books on screenwriting and story structure make him a still recognized writing mentor. I’ve never been interested in scriptwriting, but I’ve found his book and his beat sheets have helped me with my own story structure as did Michael Hague’s workshop on the three-act structure.

There are so many good craft books and great workshops and I know I’ll never get bored with learning about the craft of writing. But there comes a time when, regardless of structure or how many craft books writers have on their shelves, you just have to let loose and bleed on the page. That’s where story comes from, the heart and soul of the writer. Write the story first, then apply the finesse of the craft.

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A Muse’s Thoughts

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A Muse’s Thoughts

 ”So how do you know you’re an author?” The question has been asked many times of writers.

“In my soul.” Is always my answer.

But no one has yet asked “When did you know you were an author?”

To answer the question that no one has yet asked of me, I would say “I guess in Grade Three”. The project that day was to write about a recent field trip. I won’t go into detail but my memories had everyone in stitches laughing; a couple of my classmates said later that they’d never laughed so hard.

Somewhere inside of me that little muse grinned from ear-to-ear and very quietly began to poke away at my sanity. Muses do that, you know. That, and make you remember very important things, like never run from a hungry grizzly. Well except when he’s on TV, then you can run, poke your tongue out at him and tell him funny jokes. Although bears never get funny jokes, I’ve discovered. In fact the only thing they really understand is “Hey there’s a few rotting salmon in the next stream. Way better on your preference ladder for snackies than my scrawny body.”

Later, in High School, is when my muse woke up. She hasn’t shut up ever since (bit like my wife, but that’s another story). Now I know where the strange term “Jabberwocky” came from.

The first day of a creative writing course our assignment was to write half-an-hour non-stop on anything and everything. Staring at the blank, lined, pages I could only ask “I have to write for half-an-hour non-stop? About what????”

The teacher replied, “About anything and everything.”

So used to being told what to do in school in those days, the idea that I could just do something on my own and be let loose, seemed beyond bizarre.

“I’ll give you a zero if you don’t fill the page,” was his response.

Incentive, then. The muse wrung her hands in mirthful glee.

I simply stared in bewilderment at the blank page and wondered what kind of easy five-credit course did I think I had signed up for in a moment of insanity.

My hand shook as I held the pencil to the paper and very thoughtfully put down, ‘the walls are beige; the girl in front of me is a blonde; I wonder how old the gum stuck under my desk is; and I am so frigging bored. (I thought if I can put anything down, then the odd cuss word should be acceptable).

But at some point, after about a week, the muse lost patience and snapped. She (I know it’s a woman, she whacked me upside the head and took over, controlling bitch. [Back to the wife again, but, as I said, that’s another story]). The flow began, just as the teacher had said it would. By the end of the day I’d filled four to six pages, my pencil a blur trying to keep up with the whirling dervish inside my subconscious. She hasn’t shut up since, and I don’t intend to have her stop either. You’ll probably find me on my deathbed, pencil in hand, a hundred and three, and there will be a long jagged line scribbling down the page, stating…

To Be Continued.

Because some stories never end.

My Stillwaters Run Deep Series

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