Earth-Modern Race in Fantasy: The Balance No One Talks About and the Quest for “Nobody Cares”

After my last article, it’s become essential to talk about something I’ve considered for a long time. My last article, of course, was all about the uncanny in fantasy—the strange balance there has to be between elements that are familiar and unfamiliar (on a scale skewed by theme and tone).

However, there’s a particular topic that’s always stuck out as… the most unwieldy of all of the possible things you could weigh on the uncanny scale. Race. And no, not inhuman races in fantasy; we’re not talking half-orcs and dwarves here. We’re talking about modern-Earth races—Caucasian, Asian, Hispanic, African American, etc.

Aaaaand immediately…

Disclaimer 1: I fully understand that this is immediately a sensitive topic. Not just because race is always a touchy topic, but because I’m also going to discuss very general writing trends. So whether it’s because I accidentally say something that bothers a particular group (I really can’t see how I would) or because I implied that major writing trends should change, all I can say is, didn’t mean to offend anyone—promise.

Disclaimer 2: As always, all of this is written by someone who is not published and does not claim any official expertise on the topic of writing fantasy. These are just the thoughts of an amateur who writes fantasy on a daily basis. What follows is intended to inspire thought, not to stand as indisputable fact.

Disclaimer 3: Finally, more so than any other article, this one focuses pretty exclusively on a particular kind of fantasy story—ones set in completely fictional worlds (so, once again, not modern-Earth settings or modern-Earth analogues). So, if you don’t write fantasy, this article probably won’t be useful for you.

Still here?  Good. Let’s get to it.

Race in Modern Media

A weird thing happened to me the other day. I was playing Saints Row III with a friend. We got to a point where we had to fight an important boss character named Kia, who I liked. I thought it kind of sucked that we had to kill her instead of her commanding officer, but I have to admit that I was kind of biased in that regard; I decided that I liked her at the exact moment when I realized Kia was a lot like one of my own characters—she was tough, she was a soldier, and she was African American.

And as we fought her, something clicked in my head. She was African American. It wasn’t shocking or weird; no, the facet of it that was interesting—what made me smile—was realizing that she was African American and I’d completely missed that. It didn’t stand out that she was, and that was kind of beautiful. Not because I wouldn’t want her to stand out because of her heritage or something—this has nothing to do with her characterization. What this has everything to do with is the world I live in.

Because I grew up in the 80’s and 90’s. And back then, the only reason why Kia wouldn’t have stood out in a game or movie is that she wouldn’t have been in it at all.

If she was in it, she would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb. Because she would’ve been the very first character to die.

I don’t want to get into 80’s and 90’s movie trends, but the old adage? That the black guy always dies first? Pretty true. There were obviously cases where it wasn’t, but I remember going to see movies when I was young, seeing a black guy walk onto the screen and thinking, “Well… He’s not going to make it,” and being correct about 80% of the time. It was typical enough of a phenomenon that Deep Blue Sea ultimately made more waves not because it was a monster movie that had intelligent sharks, but because it was the first movie where, despite all expectations, the black guy didn’t die. I still remember watching the ending. The pretty love interest jumped into the water with science murder shark and it was like realizing where the final piece of a puzzle fit. “Oh. Male protagonist jumps into the water, gets her to safety, then LL Cool J jumps in or falls into the water and—oh my fuckin’ God that shark just ate her!” By horror movie standards, it was a perfect way to catch us off guard (cat in the closet’s got nothing on the last moments of Deep Blue Sea), and it made the final, cathartic scene—with LL Cool J and… the… other guy rejoicing that they survived—all the more awesome.

Disclaimer 4: I’m not a crazy Deep Blue Sea fan.

So, in contrast, having Kia play such an important role in Saints Row III made me smile. It made me think of Sir Hammerlock, Coach and Rochelle, and all of the other African American characters that have featured in video games without it being “a thing” in any way.

And it made me wonder where race, in general, fit in the fantasy genre.

Race in Fantasy

To be honest, that was not the first time I wondered about the topic. This will also not be the first time I’ve discussed it.

I forgot who I talked to about it—it was a long time ago—but I remember giving someone a brief description of one of my main characters. As I recall, I summed her up by saying, “She’s basically and blatantly Hispanic.” The person I said that to scoffed. Or… gave a frustrated grunt is more like it. “I kind of hate when race pops up in fantasy.” That devolved pretty quickly into a debate over why it was a problem. I don’t remember the details, but I remember what I came away from that conversation with:

A) Some people won’t like it if you inject race into a fantasy story.

B) In some cases, ethnicity and race totally don’t make much sense in fantasy.

C) In other cases, they absolutely do.

A)

In general, there’s an enduring silence about ethnicity in the fantasy genre. In part, it’s because “race” applies to something completely different when we use it in the same sentence as “fantasy.” But, as can happen with all intellectual properties, there’s also a severe reluctance to let an agenda dictate any facet of the experience; people don’t want race (or rather, race as it is in our society) to play an important role in their stories for the same reason they wouldn’t want the plot to focus on a political struggle that screams Republican VS Democrat; people read fantasy to get away from reality for a while and, logically, they don’t want to be force fed reality’s most complicated topics when they’re supposed to be riding rainbow unicorns into the crystal sunset… or whatever. You get it.

So, ultimately, this also winds up being a question of the uncanny scale; race winds up being too Earth-modern and pulls the reader out of their escapist fantasy experience.

The result is a staunch belief that race doesn’t belong. That person I spoke to actually told me that my Hispanic character would just scream “Hispanic” and that it wouldn’t fit. But, as a Puerto Rican, I’ve looked out at the expanse of the fantasy genre—at full movies without so much as a single tan face—and I couldn’t help thinking, “So… I don’t fit?” Does the need to stay away from agendas and hold a neutral position on the uncanny scale mean that a Hispanic character just wouldn’t fit at all?

The answer, if we consider all of these questions with our themes and settings, becomes a clear and totally helpful “yes and no.”

B)

At first, I wasn’t having those opinions about my Hispanic character at all; there were already wildly ethnic fantasy stories out there (Camorr of Scott Lynch’s The Lies of Locke Lamora stands out as a pretty clear, highly ethnic analogue of Italy—at least it seemed to [I’m so sorry if I’m wrong]—and Krasia from Peter V. Brett’s The Warded Man has a clear eastern influence).

But, as with every other aspect of a story, the idea of human race has to be weighed on the uncanny scale in relation to theme and setting.

The end result for me: no, it doesn’t make sense that my Hispanic character uses Earth-modern Spanish. Because, really, she isn’t Hispanic—she’s supposed to be a race that I made up and using Spanish words in relation to her is just… cheap, it’s a disservice to her, my world, and my story. In short, I was thinking of her as “my Hispanic character,” and that wasn’t good. I was absolutely wedging an agenda into my world where it didn’t belong.

And I was missing the point that some fantasy settings truly don’t support a variety of human races. If we dial the uncanny scale back to a distance where whiskey doesn’t make sense, then we also dial back everything else, including the progress of migration and expansion. We get fantasy story maps that are clearly focused on a single nation, water expanding all around them with the occasional grayed-out, indistinct land mass at its edge. We get the rare, ethnic character from a nation the protagonists have never heard of, and all of that absolutely makes sense.

C)

But at the same time, it also absolutely makes sense that Etalen (formerly “my Hispanic character”) is ethnic. She still has tanned skin and is still part of a culture that’s drastically different from my other characters’ and it’s absolutely fine and makes sense the same way that a lack of racial variety might be acceptable in another fantasy series—because the theme and setting support it.

Just as a fantasy setting can exist with no tanned skinned characters at all, the Aiel can absolutely be waiting outside the frame of the story. If one were so inclined, they could write a story completely focused on the Aiel and not include a single wetlander (if you haven’t read any Wheel of Time, I apologize for all of these references that aren’t helping you at all). And ultimately, I could also have Etalen, because my fantasy world, Ashaiden, is an island where races from other lands have met and settled. Her not being there at all would be the mistake.

So, in my case, the person I spoke to was both right and wrong. Right because modern Earth-modern agendas are, by definition, Earth-modern, and, unless they’re handled very well, they’ll always stand out and pull readers out of their stories.

But he was also wrong because human race, free of agendas, absolutely fits in fantasy. Really, if you think about it, other races have always been there on the borders of every front matter fantasy map you’ve ever seen–because they would have to be or a basic element of humanity would be missing and a story’s basic human logic would be broken (like a fantasy story where, say, humans are all exactly like us, only they inexplicably don’t breathe).

But why do we still rarely talk about or explore these places? Because there are standards in place that keep us from doing so. The biggest one: the tendency to make a fantasy story set in an (ever-vague) analogue of medieval England. If you’ve ever wondered why everyone has English accents in fantasy movies, this is why; unspoken Anglo-Saxon origin has been a staple in fantasy for ages, to the extent that many of us read our fantasy characters with those accents, even if we don’t intend to. In fact, in most fantasy movies, characters just come standard with those accents even if it doesn’t make sense–particularly as the analogous settings of their stories get progressively less and less similar to medieval England.

Ultimately, the result of following trends like the England-analogue and English accents is what I call the Rue Phenomenon; the event in which a disheartening amount of people raise their voices in alarm when they find that a character in their fantasy novel is black, even though it absolutely makes sense for her to be. It creates an unspoken, accidental grounds for racism. The result is that there’s a black character in a fantasy series, and suddenly, horribly a ton of people protest instead of not caring at all.

The Final Word: A Clear Answer

Ultimately, the answer to whether race fits in fantasy is obviously yes. But elements can always be too modern and unwieldy if you don’t handle them correctly.

Unfortunately, the trend of creating enclosed analogues of medieval England has made the issue of race even more difficult to handle, but the answer, clearly, isn’t to ignore it. I suppose if I can say anything with this article, I want it to be this: if you’re working on a fantasy novel, consider a setting that isn’t a vague analogue of medieval England. Consider a more complex world where a variety of human races is absolutely normal and none of your characters pay that diversity any mind. Create a world where you might not just find a single dark-skinned warrior, but instead another warrior with dark skin.

Seriously, just put in a black, gay gentleman huntsman (I love Sir Hammerlock), as long as it makes sense with your theme and setting.

And help push the standards of our society, if you can, so that in another twenty years, maybe we can just have a black fantasy protagonist and no one will care.

The Uncanny in Fantasy

Man. So, last week’s piece? That was a monster, huh? Seriously, I don’t know how many pages that was. And you know what? I don’t want to know. It’s been a week and I’m still pretty drained from all of that Milestone business. So when I tried to decide on a topic for this week, I was all, “Let’s do something light. Let’s just have a good time… Oh, I know! Let’s talk about the concept of the uncanny in Fantasy!”

Yeah. Cause, ya know, my brain’s an asshole. I tried to think of another topic that I’d rather write about, but my brain refused to even consider anything else. So here we are!

Again, and as always, I have to stress that I’m not yet published and these are just observations I’m making about a genre I love and write on a daily basis. So take from this what you wish with the knowledge that I don’t claim any expertise here. This blog is therapeutic for me and at best, let’s hope it’s thought-provoking for you. In particular, this post is just a collection of thoughts that aren’t meant to provide anyone with anything more than food for thought.

The Uncanny Problem: Not Too Close …

So, let’s say you’re reading a fantasy novel. And you get to a scene where a wizard and a warrior…

… Wait. Dial that back.

A wizard and a warrior walk into a bar. The wizard goes and does magic somewhere–he’s not important (and yet, I put him in?)–and the warrior goes to the bar and orders a whiskey.

How does that feel? Did that immediately stop you–the fact that the warrior ordered whiskey? Does something seem a little… off about that?

Let’s dial that back again.

A wizard and a warrior walk into a bar. The wizard starts dry heaving immediately (because that’s just what came to mind) and the warrior shrugs (?), goes to the bar, and orders a Mike’s Hard.

Okay. That seriously must’ve stopped you. Why?

Because Mike’s Hard shouldn’t exist in this world. Why the hell would there be Mike’s Hard Lemonade?

Well, that’s what I’m talking about here today; that is, according to me, the Uncanny Problem in fantasy. In short, some kinds of fantasy (i.e. not urban, superhero, or anything else that takes place on Earth or a modern-Earth analogue) absolutely cannot introduce elements that are too close to things we have, in reality, right now or even things that are popular right now. That warrior cannot order a hard lemonade because it’s something we have right now that’s popular enough to stick out in our minds as “recent”; t’s just too current (even if it’s not). Really, the whiskey’s also too current, and seeing it immediately ties what we’re reading way, way too closely to reality. Maybe someone could argue around that–maybe someone could make a point that this is the best pub in all of… PublishSaveDraft Town (thanks, WordPress–they’ll never know the difference)–but that person would then be taking time out of their story to explain why the characters have hard lemonade.

I’m a firm believer that you could make a lot of things work if presented in the right way (just trying “sourmash” for example, instead of “hard lemonade”–or even presenting Mike’s Hard in a weird fantasy story that includes lots of modern trappings as part of its theme), but it’s incredibly easy to accidentally include elements that are too “Earth-modern” (we’ll say) in your own fantasy writing. In short, it’s incredibly easy to use the uncanny by mistake and incredibly difficult to use it on purpose.

For example, someone might put a confession booth in a fantasy world church without thinking about it, because, hey, confession booths are things that are in churches, right? But what if the society that built the church is a race of deep elves, let’s say? What if for the majority of your story, you illustrate that these elves aren’t keen on apologizing and often take opportunities that will further their goals out of principle, with no remorse? Would this society actually have confessionals in their churches? Or would churches be something practical that they use for other purposes? Would worship even be the same for this race? Do you, as a writer, feel like you have to justify these elves having confessionals for it to make sense? Is there a chance you’re just trying to justify these confessionals because they’re what you expect to be there–possibly because they’re familiar? And, maybe, easier? The answer to all of these questions probably isn’t clear immediately, but your best possible response whenever you encounter them in your own writing is always, “I should really think about that.”

It’s a slippery slope. Especially because fantasy also can’t go too far away from what inherently makes sense to us… as humans.

The… Other Uncanny Problem: Not Too Far

Okay. Just… Just try this on for size.

A blorfenlaz magic soul and a sentient… (fuck)… metal (fuck it) phase through the flesh wall of a jenmursian. The sentient metal slides through… the… the membrane–

Look, whatever. You get it. What does any of that mean? How does any of that make sense? It doesn’t. Because none of what I was thinking relates to you, as a human, at all. You’re already lost and I didn’t even get to the part where that sentient metal orders a Mike’s Hard.

Because as much as it is fantasy’s job to challenge reality, the genre also can’t stretch too far away from it. Why? Because we’re human, writing and reading human stories. I do believe the genre can push past this inhuman point, but eventually, you pass into sci-fi… or into something else that we as humans just inherently wouldn’t want to read. I’d love to see that envelope pushed as far as it could go, but that’s mostly because I’m really unsuew how far someone could take it.

I think the best anti-uncanny pushing I’ve ever read comes courtesy of Brandon Sanderson. In a lot of his writing, he pushes the boundaries of what we consider normal. But even then, those otherworldly details are tied to concepts we understand. The best example that I can think of are kandra in the Mistborn series. If you haven’t read it, I’ll just say that kandra are not like human beings; they’re an incredibly original, bizarre race that’s really fascinating. But, as a reader, they’re easier to accept because they prefer to present themselves as humanoids–and even beyond physical presentation, kandra think like humans. Even if this was not an intentional decision on Sanderson’s part (I’m not comfortable with making one assumption or another about any writer’s intentions here), the point is that the need to have inhuman things presented as humanoid is as much a facet of fantasy as the need to not have elements be too modern. It’s why orcs and atronachs and countless other races, no matter how weird, are still almost always “humanoids.” It’s why a fairy realm, no matter how bizarre, still has castles (or, if not, still has homes or dens or any kind of dwelling the faeries call their own). It’s why even if there’s not Mike’s Hard (and really, there better not be), there’s still–always–ale.

In short, there’s a weird balance between what’s absolutely not okay to put in a fantasy world and what’s not okay to omit.

Disciple or… Student?

It’s a weird divide. And one I have struggled with because it’s the kind of issue that can pop up for nearly any detail during your world-building. There will inevitably be the point where you think, “Well… should these forest people have bread?” and “Wait… how likely is it this other race would have large wings?”

The answer here is a resounding, “Do research.” But even after research–and on humbler issues, like the naming of a drink in a tavern–the question becomes, “What do I call this thing?”

And that’s when you have to work the uncanny scales and decide. Is your initial concept unrealistic in relation to your fantasy world? Then dial it forward or backward on the Uncanny scale until either you get something that’s both human enough and otherworldly enough to work (keeping in mind that unless you’re making a story about, say, half-orc vampire squid, it’ll probably be [inherently] easy to keep things human enough). In my experience, even just working that dial on one concept–like “student”–will eventually result in a word that might change your concept of a character or world element (in my case, I recently worked the scales on the word “demigod” and wound up with a different concept that changed the way religion works in one of my worlds).

~

Well, I think I’ll call it quits there. Thanks for reading and, as always, I hope you enjoyed the rant.

On Reaching the Creative Writing Milestones

Earlier this week, I popped open an email from a friend. She’s an aspiring author like me, and like me, she has her strengths and her weaknesses as a writer. In particular, she does really amazing research; I definitely search for a quick answer or example for an element I want to use, get it and stop reading if I can work with what I found, but she learns all that she can about a topic, records relevant details, makes an educated decision about what she’s going with and why (and then records those reasons as well, I believe).

Anyway, I’m reading her email and spot something that comes up off-hand; she’s actually written a bit–her words (well, tone [whatever]), not mine. She only spared a sentence for this bit of information, but I smiled. Not in a douchy way, but because, in my mind, she hit the third Creative Writing Milestone (or Waypoint? [Tier? Tier! That works… No it doesn’t (not Event [not Phenomenon (not Happening [Got it! Yes!… Milestone!])])]). And just knowing that–seeing where she was in my concept of the writing process–made me want to tell anyone about that concept. So here we are!

Before I go on, I should caution you that they aren’t a defined thing supported by research; they’re the product of my observations and opinions as an aspiring writer and, as with nearly everything on this site, they’re flavored with an implied “fantasy” before every instance of “writing” and “fiction” (whatever application you can take from them as a general fiction writer, for example, is completely up to you).

That said, in my mind, there are Milestones that every aspiring writer experiences. Each of them is an event (phenomenon, or happening) that–while not all difficult–are still steps we have to surmount and experiences we need to have for better or worse. They are events that I believe we all experience, although their prominence in our lives is different for each of us. I should add that if you get nothing from this, you’ll at least have a pretty clear idea of my growth as a writer.

Anyway, enough foreplay.

The First Milestone – The Realization

You realize that you want to tell stories. Specifically fiction. You aren’t sure what or how, but you want to entertain people. Perhaps you’ve read something and enjoyed it so much that you wanted to try doing the same. Or you experienced a story in a different medium that you enjoyed but that you knew could’ve been better, and now you want to figure out how by writing the story you expected. No matter how you came to realize that you want to write, the point is, you know now and it starts to color how you see everything.

However, for a while, there’s only guess work. You fumble with a few ideas as you try to decide what stories you want to tell, but these ideas may never fully take. Eventually, you may either forget these ideas or remember them fondly regardless of your choice (I hope you remember them fondly). At the very least though, you find characters and story elements that you really like during this time, and often carry them with you afterwards, growing with them and eventually finding their stories if you can.

For me, the Realization only came in full after I did two separate things: played Lunar: The Silver Star for the first time and watched Jurassic Park for the first time. I do fondly remember the characters that I found in those days, but I’m not the person to tell many of their stories (although I brought many of them with me, I could not bring them all; oddly enough, one of my current characters is actually named after one of my First Milestone characters who I had to leave behind [because he was literally just the stereotypical noble knight]).

I haven’t met many people who come to this point and don’t continue–this time for a writer is usually exciting, I think, so there’s an uncontrolled, unplanned, and potentially accidental progression to the next Milestone.

The Second Milestone – The Concept

After trying a few ideas, you experience your very first, oddly cartoonish epiphany; there’s a really good chance that somewhere in your timeline, a young you actually stopped what he/she was doing, jumped up with eyes wide and said, “That’s it!”

After the epiphany, everything happens very, very quickly. You start to create a world based on that single, brilliant idea–an idea which can be anything from a particular setting to a social element in your world. It could be the origin for a character or even just the reason why they wear an iconic piece of clothing.

For me, it was a single social detail about a world that I didn’t know otherwise. I thought the element was amazing, and, in my memory, it was immediately followed by countless details about that world and the realization that two of the characters who I’d been drawing for the past year were key players in its story.

Now, the important thing to realize here is that the Concept can be absolutely addictive. It can go on for ages and can ultimately swallow a writer whole. It’s beautiful, pure creativity, but it requires a lot of work that most of us give willingly, which is part of the problem. For my part, I spent at least ten years of my youth creating new ideas for the one fantasy series. In retrospect, it would’ve been a terrible idea for me to start writing that series in high school, but regardless, the point is that I just kept building that world. And when it got too big, I didn’t stop–I remember having countless files on my computer that conflicted with each other (we’re talking about conflicting world timelines). When I realized this, I tried to prune it all down, but in my excitement, I just created more details and piled them on. Ultimately, I never started that first series in part because it’s still an incredible tangle of concepts that I know I can’t use and won’t do justice to until I’ve had experience actually writing and being published. The point is, however, it’s incredibly easy to burn out from all of this; in my experience, in fact, this is the point where many of us ultimately give up. We carefully and meticulously build worlds and then life happens and for whatever reason we forget or we let go. Either way, very few of us actually move on to the next Milestone.

The Third Milestone – Actually Starting

I don’t want to say that anyone who hasn’t made it to this point isn’t a writer–I believe that anyone who meticulously and lovingly builds a world is someone who wants to write.

However, there is ultimately a huge difference between building that world and actually writing a story in it. Put simply, no matter how much you love your world and your characters, no one will ever find out about them until you start putting pen to paper. Actually doing it–actually starting to tell your story–is one of the most important things you can do. Because, to vastly understate a fact, it’s the hard part. This is the point where you challenge yourself to do this thing you’ve wanted to do for years but were afraid of. This is where you actually try to give these characters you love their voices.

And if you’re anything like me, this is where you suddenly realize that among all of the elements you created, all of the tense dialogue you outlined between characters and all of the plot events you lovingly polished until they were all shiny with epicness, the one thing you didn’t actually do was write out a full, detailed, logical plot that your stories follow. There is a first scene or a first chapter that you work through, but you eventually get tired and stop because you find that there’s no chapter 2 outlined anywhere in all of those notes.

It’s important to say here that this Milestone isn’t all failure though–it’s a victory. You’ve actually started to write and that’s awesome. However, it’s another, strong opportunity for an aspiring writer to stop. Suddenly things don’t work and, at best, you struggle to make them work. You start to let go of some projects while focusing instead on the best you have because you start to realize that what you considered a collection of awesome stories is actually just a group of ideas that require execution to be completed (and enough logic to be executed).

But at the same time, the experiences that come with this Milestone are synonymous with actual, successful writing, and for some of us, the entire process can stop here. Over the years, you can figure out everything about a story, finish a novel, get published, continue writing, and be happy. But again, that’s for some of us.

For the rest of us… there’s the Fourth Milestone.

The Fourth Milestone – Realizing that Everything You’ve Been Writing Is Complete Shit: The Reckoning

<sigh> So… every Milestone is important. But for a lot of us, this is the final, terrible hurdle. Like I said, not everyone experiences this one.

But for the majority of us, there comes a reckoning. It will have been coming for years, and when it finally hits, you’ll melodramatically realize, “I always knew.” It may come out of nowhere or it may come from finally and honestly trying to accept harsh criticism you’ve received for a sample you sent out. Regardless, it is, officially, the point at which criticism stops being inherently harsh in your mind. Not because you’re suddenly zen, but maybe because your third eye opened, and through it you realized that when someone said they didn’t like x and y about the excerpt you sent them, it wasn’t because they were assholes (unless they were actually assholes about it)–it’s because your excerpt actually sucked. And why? Because when the Third Milestone came, you realized that “things don’t work,” you spent the last few years struggling to “make them work.” And in the process of trying to force things to make sense, you took shortcuts and made tenuous, odd ties between conflicting elements. You held onto original concepts you liked (i.e. the magic flute that lets the one character talk to animals) even though they no longer worked with newer, more logical angles you created (i.e. it’s silly how unnaturally useful this flute is). Put simply, your brain and your heart have been fighting on paper and you stepped in to force a settlement between them. And that torn up battle ground? That story that doesn’t make the sense you thought it did? That’s what you’ve spent the last few years writing.

You were too close–that old creative writing adage you’ve heard and used so many times without actually knowing what it meant. In short, the answer was never “make the magic flute less useful.” The answer was, “You honestly think this fucking magic flute is stupid, just like everyone else. Why aren’t you seeing that? Why are you so afraid to delete that stupid flute?”

But, it doesn’t matter. As harsh as all of this is, the point is that you realized you were too close. You finally saw what you were doing and you stepped back and honestly reevaluated your writing. You actually took the criticism and looked at it instead of just glossing it over and telling your friends, “Thanks. I’ll definitely keep this in mind.”

Now, I’m probably biased because I just got to this Milestone a few years ago, but I cannot help thinking that it’s something every writer should look out for. If you’ve been writing for a while now and you love what you write to the extent that you’re sure everyone’s opinions about your work are wrong, you need to stop and very openly and honestly reevaluate yourself as a writer. If you have friends who have told you that your work is great but you have a hard time tying scenes, character motivations and plot events together in a simple, logical, and compelling way, then–as harsh as it sounds–you need to consider that your friends are being nice and that your story / characters / writing in general is missing something.

Something, by the way, that you can absolutely provide. At this point, you will have already worked on your craft for years, and despite how bad this sounds, this is not a reckoning that you won’t understand. When you get here, you’ll realize you’ve been ignoring issues with your writing for ages. Whether it’s because you’ve heard it from others or because you’ve made excuses for clear plot holes, you’ll know what’s wrong.

But when you get to this point, you’ll have found a solution. And maybe it won’t be clear (maybe you’ll have to figure out exactly what you need to change about your writing to produce quality stories), but finding this solution–admitting that you can always improve as a writer and that you always need to try harder–is synonymous with producing quality writing. If you reach this Milestone, you haven’t been defeated. For lack of a more melodramatic phrase, you’ve been set free.

~

Well, that was an incredibly long post. If you read through, I hope you enjoyed and got something out of this. Either way, thanks for reading.

A Year Later

So I was on the bus with Chaos Mechanica last week after seeing The HughJackverine. It had been about two years since I’d last seen him (Mechanica, not HughJackverine), and talk eventually turned to work. Our days after Infinite Ammo have seen him get a position with Dual Shockers, a gaming website. And they’ve seen me…

… Well, definitely fail to finish writing my book in the time constraints I originally gave myself with Brand New Day–let’s just throw that right out there. It’s been a very long year after IA and it hasn’t been kind; there’s been all manners of fighting with friends, fighting with family, various fun injuries, and a lot of other issues I don’t want to get into. Really, the fastest way to say it is, life happened. Oh, did it ever happen.

Anyway, back to Chaos Mechanica; we got around to talking about our blogs eventually. He asked me how long it’s been since I’ve written on mine. I was all, “I seriously have no idea.” We talked about how blogging was a therapeutic thing anyway, and how, really, we just didn’t have the time for it.

But, despite having a job now, I realized… I do absolutely have the time for this blog.

If I’m completely honest about it, time was never really an issue in writing this blog the same way that time is never really an issue… with writing. It wasn’t that I couldn’t–I just didn’t, which is always the brutal truth of writing anything; yes, we may come home from work and we’re exhausted. And yes, we may get to our day off and we just really can’t be bothered to start because we just want to relax. But, really, those are always comfort choices; it’s never that we absolutely need to spend the whole day gaming, watching TV, going out or doing whatever–we just choose to.

And that’s absolutely what happened with me. While it would be nice and dramatic to pretend that I took a break because I was sad that I lost Infinite Ammo, the truth is, Mechanica and I gave it up; for my sake, I can admit that journalism was not for me at all and the constant pressure, along with the certainty that I didn’t really know what I was talking about a lot of the time, absolutely burned me out. Pulling back from that–taking a breather from talking about the gaming industry and comics industry like I was an expert when I absolutely wasn’t–was so cathartic that I kind of just gave up everything. It was a choice that I made the same way an aspiring writer comes home after work, sits down, and decides without a thought that, nope, they aren’t writing tonight. And, really, it was the worst choice.

But, there’s something important to specify here. While I say I gave up everything, I mean everything except for writing my book. My book which I’m super embarrassed to admit I’m still working on (even though I’m somehow also absolutely proud to still be working on). More to come on that, but for now, the point is, I haven’t given up on that, which, I believe, is why I’m writing this blog post at all. Because despite everything falling apart–despite deciding to give up for a while–there was something that I never questioned sacrificing–my writing. As hokey as it sounds, I just kept doing it in part because it was always there, always waiting, and always relying on me to do it. Because there are characters with voices that only I know and places only I have seen and I would be nothing without those people, those places, and the chance to bring them to others.

Man did I say “hokey”? Not a strong enough word.

This is all to say, I realized that I have the opportunity to write about all of this here on this blog because I haven’t given up. And I have the opportunity to share my findings with other people (specifically my findings about writing fantasy–the one thing I’m certain I know about). So why shouldn’t I do that? Because I’m tired? Because I got burned out? If I say yes to those things, then I’m not a writer.

So, instead, I’ll just say, hi. I’m back.