To Thy Own Self Be Less of Prude
Despite my better judgment, I have decided to
initiate a lengthy project near and dear to the sort of work I want to be
doing.
There is a discrepancy with the yearning I feel
for some stories and my judgment of them. I, like some do, have taken exception
to the writers who created book after book within the same world. Is it a lack
of creativity? A fear of being able to sell it? Stand-alones get more credit
than serials, and who’s interested in
the same world with separate characters?
This wasn’t a conscious cynicism, which makes
it all worse. I have long been aware of my so-called ‘guilty pleasures’—the way
that I somewhat look down on something that brings me joy—and am not too happy
about it, but it didn’t mean I always logically sit back before judging a book
and saying, “Am I just being hypercritical? You’re prone to that, you know.” I
realize people aren’t going to give me any more benefit of the doubt than I was
capable of.
But the truth is my world building has always
been lacking. It was about characters first and foremost, then plot, all set in
a moderately interesting but decorative backdrop without an abundance of
political intrigue.
I did not write about heroes; I wrote about
humans.
And for a while, that was fitting. I wrote
about what I cared about, and I’ve never been one to idealize impressive
battles or Chosen One abilities. It wasn’t why I was reading those books.
But being honest with myself, the more I accept
that my work would be closer to the stories that inspired me if I amped it up,
raised the grander stakes, broadened the history, and just made it all the more
magical. Yes, it’s still about the characters, but it could be more than just
that. Writing in low-density fantasy with only humans and monsters that come
from them, it’s sort of limiting me in my visual impact.
I recently started re-reading Girl Genius for
the third time, a fantasy web comic that has been ongoing for around 13 years.
It’s one of those things that gets better each go through, some of the
foreshadowing and historical references not meaning much to you the first time
you see them.
Slight spoiler, the protagonist’s parents are heroes of multiple legends and as I read along the more I want to see her father and uncle in action. The more I want to “meet” them, understand their real stories outside of what people are saying. It feels like there’s an entire other comic that exists in the creators’ heads (and maybe there is), and I’d love to see it.
I’ve discussed this idea more and more in
recent posts, citing that the commitment is far too great, especially
considering my low productivity in recent years along-side the fact that you
simply can’t count on selling big scope projects; it’s a better idea to take it
one book at a time.
Yet, at the same time, I have been reflecting
on the happiness and creative success I felt creating as a teen versus as an
adult, and one of my biggest issues is my obsession with not wasting time and
matching expectation. I don’t criticize all
of that—because of my desire to appear credible, my skills and control have
increased greatly—however, you can take it to a certain point where you lose
all flavor, inspiration, and spontaneity and come up with an acceptable blotch
of homogenization.
Short and short of it, today I sat back and
reflected on the kind of writing I wanted to be doing, the work that made me
feel best, analyzing my intense jealousy/yearning of wondrous stories and what
I could do about it.
I am starting a series of compendiums—stories set
in the same world, starting from its incarnation and going down through
generations. I make no promises with it, of course, as it will not take over
from my other projects, and I imagine it will be years in the making with no
hard end in sight. Each novel will be a story into itself, new characters, new
problems, but they will affect each other, progress, regress, evolve, making
the reader feel like he is watching a child grow up.
The characters will go to an ancient abandoned
castle that you will have seen built, lived in, and destroyed. They will
discuss the war that a former protagonist initiated, tell the stories of the
gods who you know by their real names.
Having a rich history has always appealed to
me, and readers who know more than the characters can make you feel like you’re
important. The challenge of putting together dropped pieces here and there is
fun, and while I know that some of the ways I would like to write is annoying,
I have decided that the literary world is too big of a place to worry so much
about having someone complain that, “That’s not the way it is done!” or that
I’m just a hack who can’t get new ideas.
Do I care about that? Not really, when I think
about it. I just know that it will be a perception I have to contend with.
Plus, there will be other books. I have
manuscripts that don’t fall into that world, and ideas that won’t fit in. I am
still working on several books in progress (including the ever slow manuscript
I’ve discussed in my “So, I’m Writing a Novel” posts), and The Stories of the Wyrd, so this won’t be a priority necessarily.
I’m not sure it will be able to make it, however, I’m extremely excited about
it and already have the beginning of a manuscript perfect for the origin
stories.
I’m not a big outliner, but after the gibberish
of two first drafts I nuked through in attempts to get me motivated after two
years of existential crisis, I sat down and really tried to pinpoint my goals,
in which I immediately started getting ideas left and right.
I’ll be spending the next few years posting
sketches that better force me to think about the abstract details in my
images—locations, fashion, faces. Even if the compendiums never end up
anywhere, the designs can be scavenged for other works. Previously I discussed
my intentions to create a detailed, creative building that my characters would be limited to in hopes of crafting a better sense of home. The idea itself never
got off the ground due to a lack of inspiration, but I took the drawings and
included the painstaking labor in another novel.
In any rate, taking on this project has taught me
a valuable lesson; sometimes self-control does not create better art, instead
inhibits it. It teaches precision, it forces you to think critically, but
sometimes, if you’re feeling yourself get dried up, you just need to be honest
and not so damn judgmental.
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