The Guide to Writing Fantasy and Science Fiction

by Philip Athans

  One of the things a fantasy novel has going for it over science fiction, which is always in danger of seeming “dated,” isn’t its keen ear for contemporary issues, but its inherent timelessness. If the subject matter is too rooted in the here and now, fantasy and science fiction might not be interesting to readers in the elsewhere and later.

  Don’t just reinterpret that news item in the context of a fantasy story or imagine it forward to some point in the distant future. Instead, ask how that item speaks to a bigger, more timeless issue.

  If, for instance, you’re inspired by a story about the fight for or against same-sex marriage, is that what your novel is really about? Or is it about a minority group seeking acceptance and tolerance from the majority? Or about an amoral insurrection trying to destroy a religious and ethical lynchpin that could topple an entire culture? Now you have an idea that’s both current and timeless, regardless of what side of the real-world argument you’re on.

  DRAWING FROM HISTORY

  History is just current events that happened in the past. Novelist and video game writer Jess Lebow sometimes starts with a historical event and works from there. “History is a great place to start for basic conflicts. I figure if someone has started a war over an incident, then a reader will believe a character who takes offense at the same thing.” Though he looks to history for inspiration, Lebow is just as likely to draw inspiration from his own experience. “I find myself jotting down little vignettes from daily life—things that seem absurd or amusing or just interesting in the way they played out. Sometimes I weave these together or into my work. Other times they just sit on the page, waiting for the right moment. I have every scrap of paper I’ve ever jotted on. None of the ideas are lost, but they certainly aren’t organized.”

  You should maintain this kind of an idea file or notebook. If all you have is a napkin, write it on the napkin. Scrawl it in the steam on your shower door, or call your own voice mail and leave it there. Then try to forget about it. If you can’t, it’s probably a good idea.

  Don’t count out other authors as sources of inspiration. Though you’d be ill advised to copy your favorite fantasy or science fiction author, you can’t help but be influenced, at least a little, by what you read. Terry Brooks has been. “Much of what I write, thematically,” he said, “can be traced back to an early and enduring fascination with William Faulkner.”

  CHAPTER 5

  HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY

  What does your book teach us? You may not think you have anything to teach your readers. Maybe you just want to entertain them. You may think that if you keep the action flowing and present a likable hero and a despicable villain, that’s plenty for a science fiction or fantasy novel, anyway. After all, maybe you’re a fan (like me) of the “hack-and-slash” sword and sorcery stories of Robert E. Howard. The Conan stories didn’t have anything to teach, did they? It was all about swinging battle-axes and rescuing damsels in distress, wasn’t it?

  In a famous letter to fellow Weird Tales contributor H. P. Lovecraft in the spring of 1932, Robert E. Howard wrote, “With the exception of one dream, I am never, in these dreams of ancient times, a civilized man. Always I am the barbarian, the skin-clad, tousle-haired, light-eyed wild man, armed with a rude axe or sword, fighting the elements and wild beasts, or grappling with armored hosts marching with the tread of civilized discipline, from fallow fruitful lands and walled cities. This is reflected in my writings, too, for when I begin a tale of old times, I always find myself instinctively arrayed on the side of the barbarian, against the powers of organized civilization.”

  This indicates that the Conan stories were about something. They had an intentional point of view. So, yes, fantasy and science fiction stories not only can have a message, but like all fiction, inherently must have a message. The subtlety with which that message is conveyed is another matter entirely.

  THE MESSAGE IN THE NOVEL

  Author Paul S. Kemp found inspiration in the Elric novels of Michael Moorcock, which expanded his conception of the fantasy genre and showed him, “that it could be more than warm, mostly light-hearted fare, and could, in fact, grapple with profound moral questions through the lens of a story well-told. Ultimately that is what made me want to write.”

  And it’s what makes us want to read. Even if you didn’t spend days after finishing The Lord of the Rings pondering the extent of the corrupting influence of power, had that idea not driven the book, I’ll bet you wouldn’t have liked it as much.

  The theme of your novel is a choice only you can make. If you try to take a stand you don’t believe in, your story will ring hollow. Your novel requires your unique political perspective, moral compass, ingrained ethics, religious beliefs, and worldview.

  In an effort to focus those worldviews, we’ll discuss five of the many universal themes that can get you thinking.

  THE TRUE MEANING OF …

  Evil? Power? Life? Civilization? What secrets do you have to share with your readers? Maybe you’ve thought about the true meaning of life and decided you might have something to add to the discussion. Tolstoy said that “the only absolute knowledge attainable by man is that life is meaningless.” Did Tolstoy believe we have to find ways to give our own lives meaning—that the universe doesn’t have a “meaning” mapped out for us at birth? If you agree, write a novel about it. If you disagree, write a novel about it. Most readers and editors are delighted to read stories with a message they don’t necessarily agree with, and they are never happier than when they read something that changes their minds.

  THE CORRUPTING INFLUENCE OF …

  There’s plenty to choose from here. Authors like J. R. R. Tolkien have been exploring the corrupting influence of power from the Oedipus plays of Sophocles through Peter Morgan’s Frost/Nixon and beyond. And what about money? In fantasy, money can take the form of anything from gold pieces to magic-infused crystals. Frank Herbert’s classic science fiction novel Dune was about the corrupting influence of money in the form of natural resources—and it’s clear he was really talking about oil—which he reimagined as the spice melange.

  THE VITAL IMPORTANCE OF …

  Not everything has to be corrupting. The movie The Fifth Element was all about the vital importance of love. Robert E. Howard wrote about the vital importance of the individual in his first short story, “Spear and Fang,” published in Weird Tales in 1925. The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand, which covers much of the same philosophical territory, came eighteen years later in 1943.

  Ask yourself a simple question that could be very difficult to answer: What do you think is most vital in life? Then think of a fantasy or science fiction story that explores that theme. Home and family? The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Faith? Left Behind. Friendship and acceptance? The Crystal Shard.

  THE UNDENIABLE POWER OF …

  Some things we can’t avoid, stop, or manipulate. Science fiction authors were among the first to imagine the worst outcomes of global climate change. And natural forces aren’t the only things that we can all agree are “undeniable.” Spider-Man is about the undeniable power of personal responsibility. Whether or not Peter Parker chooses to take responsibility for his powers, it’s clear that “with great power comes great responsibility.”

  THE ETERNAL STRUGGLE BETWEEN …

  Good and evil is the easiest counter position, almost too easy. If you dress a character up in a Nazi SS uniform, he’s the bad guy. No offense to Indiana Jones, but think deeper than that. At what point do good and evil meet? Can someone working for the clear cause of good go too far? Is evil an expression of good that you don’t agree with? Man versus nature appears here too, and in fantasy and science fiction you can imagine a world in which man has won that fight, or thinks he has—was that a good thing?

  This just begins to scratch the surface, but I hope it will get you thinking in terms of what it is you want to say. Fiction doesn’t communicate pithy dialog and nail-biting action, it communicates ideas, through pithy dialog and nail-biting action.


  CHAPTER 6

  DEVELOP A PLOT

  Plot is born out of conflict. But what does that mean? In most science fiction or fantasy novels, it’s exactly what it sounds like: a conflict (often physical) between the hero and the villain, representing the battle between good and evil. But you don’t have to limit your thinking in that way. The terms protagonist and antagonist, which are fancy ways of saying hero and villain, are useful if you have a tendency to—or are purposely trying to avoid—judging your characters.

  Though no plot is entirely limited to one hero and one villain, they are the principal drivers. And of course the hero and the villain can both be men, women, or one of each. The princess can be a prince. Both of them can be dragons. There is no rule—anymore, at least—that a hero has to be a white man. Sometimes two heroes or two villains are in conflict with each other. Sometimes the character you think is the hero at the beginning of story turns out to be the villain in the end. Then there are stories in which the villain isn’t a thinking being at all, but the immutable forces of nature, the hero’s own prejudices or preconceptions, and so on.

  This means your novel doesn’t need to fall back on a steely eyed Lancelot versus a fascistic Dr. Doom. But unless your protagonist comes into conflict—in the broadest sense of the word—with someone or something, you have no plot, no story, and no novel.

  STORY IS ESSENTIAL

  “The story remains essential to human beings,” says Ethan Ellenberg, a literary agent who heads the eponymous Ethan Ellenberg Literary Agency. “It’s a better organizer of life than philosophy or ethics or nearly any other human endeavor I can think of.”

  In the figure above, the arrow that points down to the top of the circle is the beginning of the hero’s A-B line. The hero starts somewhere—a quiet little medieval village or at the helm of a starship—but has a burning need or desire to do something, like find the indigo lotus that will end the terrible scalp-pox epidemic that threatens to destroy the kingdom, or complete the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs.

  At the same time (or around the same time), the villain starts from the other A—maybe a dungeon cell or the control room of a space station—also with a burning desire, such as to find the indigo lotus so he can decide who is cured of the scalp-pox, or to enslave the indigenous sentient primitives of the planet Rigel-238.

  Often the hero and the villain are after the same or similar goals, but for different reasons and with different intended results. However, it can be even more interesting if they start out with entirely different objectives. For instance, what if the hero begins with the goal of paying off the family farm and living happily ever after with the girl of his dreams? The villain, on the other hand, wants to kill half the people in the realm with the scalp-pox, a disease he created in an alchemical laboratory in order to receive thanks, recognition, and other great favors by eventually saving the realm with the magic healing powers of the indigo lotus.

  HERO AND VILLAIN INTERSECT

  When we get to the center circle, the plot of our novel takes shape. This is the territory in which the hero’s A-B line meets the villain’s A-B line, and the story begins in earnest. Carrying forward the previous example, the hero’s girlfriend falls victim to the scalp-pox, so the hero sets off to find a cure and (maybe literally) bumps into the villain, who’s also looking for the indigo lotus. The plot then hinges on a race to find the healing flower.

  Like two hockey pucks bumping into each other on the ice, when those two lines meet, they send each other off into different trajectories, ending at C, D, E, or F. In the diagram, those new trajectories end up between the A-B lines, but how your plot plays out and ends is based on the angle of deflection.

  The space between C and D is labeled “Dark,” between C and E is “Heroic Victory”, between E and F is “Total Victory,” and between F and D is “Hero Comes Full Circle.”

  Hero Comes Full Circle

  Means the story ends closer to the hero’s beginning point. We’ll see the hero back home, but not necessarily living happily ever after. He has achieved a qualified victory over the villain. The closer this moves to point D, the darker that gets. Maybe the hero has found the lotus only to realize it’s too late to save his girlfriend, but the kingdom will benefit. Move it closer to F and she lives.

  Total Victory

  Ends not only with the hero defeating the villain but deflecting the villain back to near the villain’s own point A. If the villain was trying to become the absolute ruler of the realm, in this ending, he’s back in the dungeon cell.

  Heroic Victory

  Means the hero has not only defeated the villain but has come to the end of his own A-B line. He’s progressed as a person more than he might in a “Total Victory” ending. Likely he’s had to sacrifice something along the way. He’s been deflected from his goals by the villain’s actions, but he wins the day in the end. In this example maybe he’s cured everyone of the scalp-pox but himself.

  Dark

  Is the province of the “downer ending” in which the villain actually wins the day. In this ending, maybe the hero has managed to save his girlfriend from the scalp-pox, but the villain still becomes king. The hero has won only a partial victory at best and we end with the villain laughing with maniacal satisfaction.

  Play with that diagram and think about how a story can change depending on how those A-B lines bounce around inside the circle.

  Author Jess Lebow offers these words of advice: “Remember Newton’s Third Law of Motion—for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. In other words, for every move your protagonist takes, the antagonist driving the conflict in the scene (be that a character, an environment, or a circumstance) needs to make one too. The only time this stops is when the conflict is fully resolved.”

  CHAPTER 7

  KNOW WHEN TO STOP

  Fantasy novels seem to come in trilogies, and even science fiction, a little less sequel-oriented than its magical cousin, can explode out into multi-book series. There is no clear rule of thumb as to why and when you should start thinking beyond one book. However, agent Ethan Ellenberg advises caution: “The first book must be a completely satisfying stand-alone novel. Too often I’ll read a first in a trilogy book that will be ‘saving’ a lot of the plot for the future books, and it mars the first book.”

  Let’s start with how big your story needs to be. Jess Lebow begins by thinking in terms of length at the outline stage: “It’s important to know where you are going before you begin. Even if you don’t end up writing the whole trilogy, it really helps develop the world if you know what happened before and after the book you’re writing.”

  “I’ve done it both ways, actually,” admits R. A. Salvatore. “The irony is that in my longest-running series, the Drizzt books, I only plan them out one at a time. I think of Sherlock Holmes or James Bond as my guides here, where even though it’s a long series, The Legend of Drizzt is really a series of adventures following a cast of characters walking down a winding and interesting road. By contrast, when I did the original DemonWars Saga, I knew where the seven books were going to take me. DemonWars is really one story, and I wouldn’t recommend reading the fourth or the fifth without reading the ones that came before. With Drizzt, pick it up anywhere; hopefully you’ll have enough fun to go back and learn what came before, but I try to make sure that knowledge isn’t essential to enjoying the latest adventure.”

  HOW BIG A BOOK?

  Laura Resnick’s The White Dragon is a terrific, richly realized fantasy, the first part of In Fire Forged, which is the sequel to the stand-alone novel In Legend Born. But it sure feels like the second book in a trilogy (which ends with The Destroyer Goddess). In an Author’s Note at the end of The White Dragon, Laura tells us that In Fire Forged was written as one book but ended up being so long that they decided to publish it as two books. A book can only be so thick.

  These are the things publishers suffer over, but very few readers even notice. Readers enjoy books
if they like the story, the characters, the writing … the important stuff. Numbering books in a series can help people read them in the right order, but lately the book trade has been frowning on this practice, since it can be hard to keep every book in a series on the shelf of every store in a nationwide chain. If all you see on the shelf is Book II, you might just move on to another series rather than ask to special order Book I. But if that fact is less apparent, and the second book is sufficiently self-contained, you might be inclined to jump into the series at that point, and the sale is made.

  Hugo-nominated editorial director of Pyr books and the editor of several critically acclaimed anthologies, Lou Anders, told me, “There is nothing better than a series that works and that builds from book to book. And there is nothing worse than taking something on and knowing that each successive book is going to do less well than the one before it.” Anders uses the word “risky” when it comes to first-time authors planning on more than a “stand-alone novel with the potential of a follow-up.” However, he admits to occasionally betting on a series from a new author.

  Still, allow a prospective publisher to take a cautious approach. Most editors aren’t entirely the Lords and Ladies of the Manor they’d like to be. Most if not all are answerable to editorial boards and business managers who need to be reassured that the publishing house’s money is being well and carefully spent. A presentation to an editorial board that starts off “I have a great new eighteen-book mega-series by this awesome up-and-coming young author” can be scary for everyone involved. “I have a great fantasy book by a fantastic new author that people are going to love” is liable to get a better reception, even if you and your editor have a good feeling that if all goes well you’ve got seventeen more books in the hopper.