Tag: Acradea (page 5 of 9)

Epilogues: Essential or Evil?

September 30, 2010 / / 3 Comments

Red Pen

The novel rattles along towards its end. You’ve been with these characters for hundreds of pages, followed their stories for thousands of words. Now, at last, you’re in the final chapter. The drama and action are at their peak. The conclusion rushes up on the last page of the chapter, and…

What’s this? There’s more? I thought the story was over!

Epilogues are interesting creatures. On the one hand, they allow a “where are they now” recap of the stories of your characters, the opportunity to tie up loose ends. On the other, they take place after the principle action of the narrative, perhaps in an arbitrary or artificial fashion. Let’s take a look at these specimens in more detail, to see if there’s a right or wrong way to implement them or if they’re even necessary at all.

Epilogues Are Not Bad

Once you get to the end of the story’s major plot, there may be minor ones that still need to be resolved. And that resolution might not come right away. The major plot may require cleanup, say if the evil overlord’s exploding hideout set the nearby forest on fire or the police need to take statements and make a case that the hero was actually breaking the law and needs to serve time. The protagonist may need to disappear in the wake of that explosion, or maybe they won’t see their significant other until they get out of the slammer on good behavior. Yet you still want to resolve some things for them after that time period. Epilogues let you do that.

Putting these story points in an epilogue instead of an additional chapter indicates that this final part of the narrative is occurring outside of the timeline of the main plot. Readers spend a bit more time with characters, see the resolution of certain situations and get the opportunity to decompress after the experiences within the climax. If nothing else, it allows the writer to tie up loose ends.

Epilogues Are Not Good

Then again, if you have a lot of loose ends to tie up, maybe you need to rethink where those threads came from in the first place. Why tack on additional words after you resolve all the action? End on a high note, as they say. Less is more. Resolve what needs to be resolved and no more. Let the reader fill in the blanks themselves.

Also, epilogues can be arbitrary or even artificial. If you’re writing a novel, it’s already a long work. Do you really need to make it longer? Epilogues are also breeding grounds for things like sappy reconciliation, forced relationship resolution and groundwork for a sequel that may never come. At worst, they’re vestigial growths that operate like the human appendix: unnecessary and possibly poisonous to your creation.

Epilogues Are Both. Or Neither!

I think it might be a case-by-case basis. I see both the merits and flaws in an epilogue. I can understand cases where they might be necessary and cases where they serve no purpose other than lengthening the story or providing setup for future works. And as far as my own work is concerned — Citizen in the Wilds in this case — I’m on the fence.

What do my fellow writers think? Are epilogues good things from time to time? Or do all of them need to die in a fire?

Story’s End

September 21, 2010 / / 0 Comments

Courtesy Vulcan Stev

Some of my favorite stories have been ruined because they’ve gone on too long. Even stories I’ve been lukewarm about have taken a turn for the abysmal when more story has been tacked on when it wasn’t needed. It’s so common that it’s been dubbed “Sequelitis” by the Tropers.

It’s informed some of the decisions I’ve made as a writer. I’ve envisioned Acradea as a trilogy, and while I have ideas for extending the cycle beyond three books, I wouldn’t want to do so unless the story is good. If Pendragon gets picked up, I have ideas for a story arc with a solid conclusion. The modern supernatural fantasy/horror novel idea kicking around in my head is a standalone product. Suffice it to say, I’ve learned to go into my storytelling with a plan in mind.

Lately, I’ve been wondering why World of Warcraft is different.

Now, on-going interactive storytelling is a different kettle of fish entirely from your standard-issue long-form fiction-writing. Any Dungeon Master worth their salt can tell you that. Would the epic D&D games played by the guys from Penny Arcade be anywhere near as interesting and fun without poor, poor Aeofel? It’s a collaborative effort, and roleplayers, good ones at least, do not exist in a vacuum.

That said, I’ve been thinking about what to do with my main World of Warcraft character.

I’ve been playing a blood elf hunter since the race was introduced to players in the Burning Crusade expansion. I’m fond of him. Playing an outdoors-oriented, inclusive member of a race known for being arrogant and isolationist has lead to a lot of interesting anecdotes. He’s had highs and lows, triumphs and tragedies – a pretty full life considering he’s only a couple years old in real-life terms.

With the next expansion coming, I’m wondering where he’s going to fit in. Or, more to the point, if he’s going to fit in at all. The story of Gilrandur Dawnstalker feels like it’s come to something of a conclusion. Do I take him on a “coming out of retirement” track when the Cataclysm hits, or is it time to start a new story instead of continuing the old?

The inspiration for this thought came from the pre-Cataclysm event, Zalazane’s Fall. Warcraft’s trolls have always been one of my favorite races in that universe. They have fantastic lore, interesting relationships with the other Horde races and are poised to have a big role to play in the expansion. Of course, their accents and aesthetic don’t hurt either.

As writers, I have to ask. Do you know it’s time to end a story? If so, how?

Checkered Flags Ahead

September 12, 2010 / / 0 Comments

Checkered Flag

It’s important to have goals, in just about everything you do. The somewhat tricky part is that not everything will have defined goals laid out for you. The deadlines of a dayjob, the billing dates of utilities, the expiration on a gallon of milk – these give us tangible goals. Other goals aren’t usually as well defined.

Take gaming, for example. People are under no obligation to reach a particular level in World of Warcraft, Mass Effect or EVE Online. In fact, EVE has no “end-game” content to speak of. There’s no sprawling story structure of quests and rewards – just you, your starting vessel and the vast emptiness of space. To keep things interesting you have to set goals for yourself – get this skill to a certain level, earn enough money for that class of ship, be good enough to be invited to the Awesome Express corporation.

Mass Effect, being a single-player experience, has the goals of the story missions, side quests and DLC, but beyond that you really don’t have any obligation to play it more than once. Yet I find myself contemplating doing just that. I’ve beaten both games on standard difficulty (as an Inflitrator) and Hardcore (as a Vanguard). But the Insanity difficulty taunts me. I also never hit the maximum level in the first game. So at some point, I’ll be revisiting it, and maybe I can put together a review of ME2’s DLC while I’m at it.

As for World of Warcraft, my main character’s plunging into the final end-game raid of the last expansion. I’m also getting him geared up for the arenas, which are pretty much the pinnacle of player-versus-player skill. Meanwhile, I have two other characters I’m working on, one for the purposes of change-of-pace gameplay (tanking as opposed to DPSing) and one for role-playing purposes. It’s difficult to portray a charismatic, powerful villain when you’re only half as powerful as everybody else in terms of level, after all.

Outside of my various electronic distractions, other goals approach as well. I’ve been doing podcasts for IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! for almost a year, and in a few months I’ll have been getting blog posts up for over 365 days. The editing process of Citizen in the Wilds proceeds, I’m trying to get a hold of Polymancer again and in a few weeks I’ll know the end result of my efforts to place in the Blizzard fiction contest. Once these goals are met, however, I know I can’t stop – new ones will have to be set, otherwise I’ll just be puttering around in games all day.

I mean, more than I usually do.

What sort of goals do you/have you set for yourself? How do you reward yourself when you reach them?

Get Back On The Horse

August 30, 2010 / / 0 Comments

Courtesy Leslie Town Photography

The phrase “get back on the horse” usually refers to someone getting “thrown” from said horse. A tragedy occurs, a heart is broken, a house burns down or a car is totaled – it’s something that throws the individual in question completely out of whack. Equilibrium is shot. The status quo’s out the window. The only way to get back on track is to get back on the horse, even if it just threw you.

However, it’s not just the earth-shattering events that cause us to leave the back of our steeds. Sometimes, things just stop for a bit. The horse needs water or caught a rock in their hoof. We swing down from the saddle, tend to the horse, and take some time for ourselves as well, to grab a bite or take in the scenery. I’m speaking metaphorically, of course, but the bottom line is we stop our progress in our journey.

One of my favorite Westerns of recent years is Hidalgo, and not just because Viggo Mortensen’s in it. Towards the end, Frank (Viggo’s character) goes through a somewhat trippy sequence. He and Hidalgo have fought tooth and nail to persevere in the punishing race across the desert, and the horse is so exhausted that Frank considers putting his companion down. However, he experiences admonitions from his Lakota ancestors to finish the journey and that he and his horse need each other. Emerging from the dream, Frank turns to see Hidalgo on his feet and waiting for the rather thick human to get back on so they can win the damn race. (If you haven’t seen this film, it’s a lot of fun and a classic adventure steeped in Western trappings, so check it out. Also, horses!)

Our desires and dreams are a bit like that horse. We might think that they’re daunting or even impossible to complete. We may exhaust ourselves trying to pursue them at the same time we struggle to make ends meet and address practical matters of living in the modern age. Bills need to be paid, clients need to be appeased, debts need to be settled and obligations need to be met. A lot of needs shove and yank us hither and yon, leaving little energy for ourselves. Sometimes we don’t want to put that energy into something that seems like it’ll go nowhere, considering there are tons of others out there already doing what we wish we could. Better to bear those ills we have, etc.

Besides, a lot of creative people including myself are a bit like magpies. We may want to get from A to B but between those two points are shiny things. New movies, favorite games, comfortable stories and old favorites. We flit to and fro in our free time, especially if we’ve spent ourselves on a creative effort that is either seems too daunting or returns little gratification. The keyboard, the controller, the popcorn bucket, the remote for the TV – they’re security blankets, things to cling to when the phone calls from collectors begin and we want to just forget about deadlines for a while.

But we get a nudge. Like an impatient horse standing behind us whose gotten their water and taken some time to rest their hooves, our desires don’t leave us alone. We can’t stay in idyllic wilderness settings forever. We’re on a journey, here. And while the journey itself is often just as interesting as the destination, if not moreso, we won’t reach our goals if we stand in the middle of the field staring at them. We have to move there. We have to make the effort. We have to get back on the horse.

It could be argued that a lot of this “writer’s block” stuff comes from us blocking ourselves. It’s an excuse to stop expending effort, burn a little less lean tissue, invite less stress into our lives. I stopped work on Acradea to finish the Blizzard contest entry, and then… played more Warcraft. Got some fresh air. Saw Scott Pilgrim. Cheered for the Union. And it was fun, refreshing and relaxing.

But my manuscript’s still here. It’s waiting for me. If it were a horse, it’d be looking at me somewhat impatiently. It wants to move forward, continue the journey, get to a place where it can be hand-fed some damn oats by a pretty farmer’s daughter. It’s not going to get there while I stand around wool-gathering.

For my part, it’s past time to get back on the horse. Have you had moments like that? Has a project, a work in progress, given you a mental nudge to remind you it’s still there? Have you ever taken a break for longer than you expected, only to find you need to pull yourself back into working on it?

Do Fear The Audience

August 18, 2010 / / 0 Comments

Red Pen

Yesterday I talked about not being afraid of starting over. Today, I think it’s appropriate to discuss something one should be afraid of when it comes to writing, or performing in general. It’s the root of that thing they call ‘stage fright,’ at least in my experience.

You should be afraid of your audience.

Specifically, you should be afraid of screwing up and letting them down.

I’m not one to spread fear haplessly. I’m not a member of the Tea Party (colloquially known as a ‘teabagger’). However, it’s something I experience personally that I’m sharing as what might actually be a good thing. It takes me some time to write something, even a blog post sometimes, because I know other people are going to read it.

So I do my utmost to, as they say, bring my A game.

I do my editing and revising, for the most part, behind closed doors. I’ve experimented with sharing some of my in-progress work, and while I appreciate all of the feedback I’ve gotten and it’s helped me shape where some of my work has proceeded, I’ve also felt a touch of remorse for making people suffer through embryonic writing. It tends to be half-formed, missing things, rushed in places and laboriously long in others. In short – it sucks.

An awesome product might emerge from those early drafts, but I fear showing them to anyone. Hell, sometimes I fear showing a final draft to people, even if it strikes me as the best work I’ve ever done and composed entirely of awesome. I feel this way because, as a writer of fiction aimed at entertaining people, I don’t want to deliver a product that’s only partially good, or simply good enough to not suck.

I don’t submit works to magazines that are “warm-ups” or “experiments” that will lead to other works. I have no intention of querying with a partial manuscript or a finished one that still needs polish. Agents, editors, publishers, consumers, friends, family – they all deserve my very best. Even Blizzard won’t be getting anything less than the best Starcraft story I can offer, because on top of wanting to win, I want to demonstrate my skills, and if I send in something that isn’t my best, I’m doing a gross disservice both to myself and to their source material.

It’s not easy. You have to push yourself to do better, constantly. You have to remind yourself that lots of other people are trying to break into the same arena you are, and the only way your work will emerge above theirs is if it’s better presented, or better written in my case. Otherwise, there’s no point in putting pen to paper at all. If you want people other than yourself to write or see or experience something you’re creating, help them get their money’s worth. Write the best words possible. Don’t stop taking photos until it’s just right. Don’t be sloppy in how you assemble the elements. Do it right, and do it better than anybody else.

Henry Rollins summed it up in his usual inimitable way:

“Either have your phasers set on kill, or motherfucker, don’t show up.“

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