Entering Elantris

I recently started reading Elantris by Brandon Sanderson. It's his first novel, and that fact does color my perceptions of the book. First, it's 60 percent longer than my Nethereal manuscript, giving me encouragement that my work is an acceptable length for a first book.

Besides the editing considerations, Elantris' plot is very high-concept, which is how I like it. A land inspired by late medieval Europe plays host to a race of immortal sages randomly divinized by unknown mystical forces. These chosen demigods all congregate in the tale's eponymous city, where they forge startling new technologies with magical runes and buy the commoners' adoration with free food.

Sanderson then brilliantly describes the crushing end of a bread and circuses based political structure when the same ineffable force that gave the Elantrians their power capriciously takes it away. In a delightfully perverse twist, the former divinities aren't just demoted back to human status. They become leprous undead wretches, unable to work their former magics or even to heal from the slightest wounds. The gods' former seat of power becomes their plague colony: a filth-ridden tomb shunned by its former subjects.

Ten years of upheaval follow as anyone and anything connected with Elantris' cursed inhabitants is violently uprooted and cast aside. The monied middle class, being the only group whose prosperity didn't depend on the Elantrians' largesse, step in to fill the power vacuum. One of Sanderson's master strokes is depicting the upjumped nobility's aversion to keeping servants after seeing the Elantrians' former worshipers turn on them.

There's always room for improvement, especially in a first novel (if eighteen months of revisions taught me anything, this is it). I'll list a few weaknesses I've found in Elantris with the caveat that I'm only a quarter of the way through the book, and it's difficult to judge a work's merits until the last word is read.

As mentioned above, Elantris is long. I'm a marathon reader; not a guy who consumes one coffee break-sized chapter at a time. Yet I'm progressing at roughly half the pace I set while reading Count to a Trillion, which is comparable in length. I think Elantris' pacing needs some work, but I'm not sure how yet.

Though their dialogue is solid, most of the characters serve as exemplars of established fantasy archetypes without enough to flesh them out (at least so far; some main and side characters show promise). The prince is an able leader trained in the arts of politics: in short, a prince. However, his native likability succeeds in gaining reader sympathy for his plight. Princess Sarene reads like a suffragette transported to Henry VIII's England. She's very good at it though, and her characterization could hint at why Sanderson was named Jordan's heir.

The character who most engages me is (of course) main antagonist Hrathen: a high priest of a militaristic faith who's given three months to convert a foreign kingdom. Sanderson gives him perhaps the biggest stakes of any main character in terms of immediate ramifications, for his failure will mean the country's bloody demise.

Those are my first impressions of Elantris. I'll reserve my final review till I've finished the book.

Organic vs. Outline

There are two general approaches to starting the writing process: outlining and organic writing. Both methods have advantages and flaws. Many writers use some combination of both. Which is best? The answer largely depends on the writer, but this brief overview should help.

Outlining
The writer undertakes extensive world building and planning before drafting begins. The overall story structure; plus major characters, themes, and plot twists, are outlined.

Advantages

• Reduces the likelihood of omitting important characters/scenes/plot points, etc.
• Gives the writer a road map to fall back on if the story goes astray.
• Theoretically speeds up the actual writing process, which can become as simple as filling in the outline.
• Minimizes the risk of wasting time and effort by becoming disenchanted with the story after writing several chapters.

Flaws

• Can delay the start of writing by encouraging endless world building.
• Promotes excessive exposition on background concepts like magic systems, fantasy world history, character origin stories, etc.
• Runs the risk of turning the art of writing into a sterile, paint-by-numbers exercise.

Popular outline writer: Brandon Sanderson

Organic/Discovery Writing
The author gets an idea and just starts writing about it, letting the story develop organically.

Advantages

• Minimal risk of writer's block due to incessant world building.
• Easier to make changes rather than scrapping a whole story.
• Greater freedom to "follow characters" who take the plot in unexpected directions.
• Lowers the risk of scenes/characters/plot twists feeling forced.

Flaws

• No reference to fall back on. "Working without a safety net".
• Easier to forget important concepts/plot points.
• Increased risk of writer's block from lack of direction.
• Greater chance of a meandering, bloated narrative.
• Avoiding flow/pacing problems takes strong self-discipline.
• Higher risk of continuity errors.

Popular discovery writer: Stephen King

For a more in-depth treatment of this subject, Writing Excuses has an excellent discussion on discovery writing and several on outlining.

Faustian Bargaining

"Magic"--like "love", "decimation", and "freedom"--is a term that popular use has greatly corrupted. Nowhere is the misapprehension of magic more prevalent than in contemporary speculative fiction. Many authors, without fear of contradiction or ridicule,  slap the "magic" label onto any ability exceeding the norm. This practice is inaccurate and objectively misleading.

In their episode on magic systems, the Writing Excuses podcast filed everything from the Force to mutant powers under the aegis of "magic". Allowances must be made for the hosts' need of a convenient term to frame their discussion, not to mention their fifteen minute time limit. However, I found it interesting that they mentioned several species of fantastic power but not actual magic.

I'll stop begging the question and define actual magic, that is to say magic as it has been historically understood and practiced in western culture. Though western magical traditions differ, certain common threads run through all of them:

• Magic is preternatural, i.e. not among the natural powers proper to humans.
• Magic does not involve the direct manipulation of cosmic or spiritual energies ("spiritual energy" being an oxymoron).
• Following from the first two points, the magician's role is to invoke the aid of spiritual beings, to whom levitating objects, forecasting future events, etc. comes naturally (thus magic can't be called supernatural either).
• These beings' services are never contracted without cost.

In no authentic source I know did actual magicians claim the power to weave strands of earth and air or to shoot coherent light beams from their eyes. I realize that novelists deal with magic in the context of fiction, but words are a writer's tools, and words have meanings. The classification of every freak, prodigy, and curiosity as "magic" is a result of our modern linguistic laziness and aversion to metaphysics.

It could be argued that the usefulness of a general term describing the sundry paranormal goings-on in popular fantasy and science fiction trumps the importance of linguistic accuracy. In that respect, I don't begrudge such usage as long as the terms are defined beforehand. However, I find that a proper understanding of magic as it was known to our ancestors can add authenticity and depth to one's writing. John C. Wright makes a persuasive case for this approach.

Another question implied by this line of reasoning is, "How should the various "magic" systems used in contemporary fiction be classified?" I'll attempt an answer.

• Extranormal abilities arising from genetic mutation (natural or induced), alien ancestry, enhanced anatomy, or wonder drugs fit most comfortably into the category of superpowers.
• Effects that seem paranormal to readers, but which result from the conscious manipulation of ambient energy fields, chi, manna, etc. are really just technologies, although they draw on power sources that are unknown or disputed in the primary world.
• Techniques that exploit physical laws absent in the real world are likewise technologies.
• Combinations of the above, e.g. a gene that predisposes one to psychic powers.

You're probably thinking of Clarke's Third Law right now. In my defense, Clarke meant "magic" in the broad sense of "anything scientifically inexplicable". Also, the Third Law affirms an intrinsic difference between technology and magic and even relies on that difference for its intelligibility.

My own science fiction-fantasy novel Nethereal provides examples of each category. Jaren and Nakvin possess certain superior physical traits thanks to nonhuman parentage. These are superpowers. The Guild's Workings and glamers, Gennish Mysteries, and even the Malefactions of xanthotics are technologies that harness fictitious forms of energy. Only in the ancient schools of divination and necromancy--with their fool's bargains and horrific costs--do we find real magic.

The whole exercise in fantastical nit-picking aside, Sanderson and Wright are unarguably correct that a practical supernormal power system should adhere to rules; especially the rule that all power comes at a price. Mutants are feared and hated by those they fight to protect. Channelers risk madness and death to use their gift. Sorcerers barter their eternal souls for power and influence. As long as the cost fits the effect, it's not cheating.

Obstacles: Internal and External

I finally started listening to Writing Excuses. In season 1, episode 6 Brandon, Howard, and Dan discussed character flaws and handicaps. I loved the episode and thought of a few comments that I'd like to share here.

The hosts of Writing Excuses defined a flaw as an internal fault that a character must overcome. They cited Han Solo's initial greed and selfishness from Star Wars Episode IV. In contrast they defined a handicap as external circumstances that impede a character's progress, e.g. Luke Skywalker's overprotective uncle and remote desert upbringing.

I can't take issue with either definition, except for one host's assertion that handicaps can't be overcome by the character (Luke in fact does when he leaves Tattooine with Han, Chewie, and Ben). In fairness, I think he was trying to differentiate between the internal struggle involved in overcoming a flaw and the positive actions needed to remove a handicap.

One fascinating question that came up was how to balance character flaws and likability (i.e. how to give a character flaws without alienating readers). I agree that making the flawed character the protagonist wins half the reader sympathy battle. One powerful tool overlooked by Writing Excuses but recommended by my friend and fellow writer Nick Enlowe is remorse. A character earns a lot of points with readers by expressing sorrow for his sins. Striking the right balance of depravity and virtue is still delicate work (I'm grappling with this process in the book I'm writing now), but at the end of the day most readers want characters to have flaws and want them to overcome those flaws.

Who are your favorite flawed characters? Why do they resonate with you despite (or because of) their faults? What do you think is the ideal balance of virtue to vice?

Considering Writers' Conferences

I've been contemplating attending a writers' conference for a while. Such events come in many flavors (general, genre-related, writers' retreats, etc.), so it's important to define your goals and select the conference that's best able to meet your needs.

I'm in the market for a general or SF/Fantasy-focused event where I can meet agents (a method proven by several successful authors) and editors (workshops and panel discussions are valuable, but I'm mainly focused on networking). Having limited funds, I'm not looking to travel far.

The most promising event I've found within these criteria is the Chicago Writers Conference. It's not till September, but one can't start planning too early. I don't know if I'll go this year. Registration is $200.00, and that's without travel and lodging expenses. I'll keep you posted as the situation unfolds.