The Guide to Writing Fantasy and Science Fiction

by Philip Athans

  In fact, new authors are under a bit more pressure to be original than established authors. After all, if a publisher is going to invest thousands of dollars in your book, and you have no track record, you’re going to have to give them something special.

  “The trick,” advises Paul Park, “is to make [fantasy worlds] familiar enough to evoke and resonate with an entire tradition, while unfamiliar enough to resist melting into other, more primary texts. An accumulation of specific detail is how you accomplish this, and while there might be limits on what you can cram into the actual story, there are no limits on what it would behoove you to imagine.”

  LOOK TO THE ARCHETYPES

  Genre readers expect a certain percentage of archetypes in any book they read, regardless of the author. With established authors they tend to look for that author’s tropes—his richly realized future Earth, her erotic fairyland—but if no one but you and your close friends know your work, you’ll have to think a little bit about what makes your book “fantasy” or “science fiction” while at the same time keeping it original.

  Certain key components, like elves in fantasy or robots in science fiction, are free for the taking. No one, even the estates of J. R. R. Tolkien or Isaac Asimov, can sue you for picking those archetypes up and running with them. But if you don’t give them a unique spin, agents and editors will shrug you off.

  If the robot is an archetype, what makes your robot different than Asimov’s, Lucas’s, or anyone else’s? C-3PO’s gold “skin” was reminiscent of the Maria robot in Fritz Lang’s Metropolis, but C-3PO’s personality couldn’t be any more different. Lucas gave a nod back to one of the first science fiction movie epics, but he created robots all his own, robots that have stood the test of time. If you take any advice in this book, remember this:

  Use every archetype in the genre toolbox, but make them your own.

  What unique twists can you put on a robot or an elf? Appeal to all five senses. C-3PO has a distinctive voice, for instance. Elves usually have pointed ears, but do they have to? Could they have unusual eyes? Could your elves have inherent magical powers that no other author has ascribed to them? Ask questions. The most difficult hurdle any new writer has to cross is the line between original and derivative.

  “Good Artists Borrow, Great Artists Steal”

  This quote has been attributed to Pablo Picasso, but he probably stole it from someone else. Whoever said it second was right, and though the quote is open to interpretation, let’s think about what it means for our purposes.

  If your robot is C-3PO with silver “skin” instead of gold, you’ve borrowed George Lucas’s robot for your book. If your robot is C-3PO but he’s not in the shape of a human, he lacks the English accent, and instead of being jittery and frightened all the time he’s kind of a douche, then you’ve stolen it, and you are on your way to being a great artist.

  Exactly Alike but Completely Different

  But, you might be asking, if I change all that about C-3PO, he isn’t C-3PO anymore. Exactly, but then in what way will it still be like C-3PO?

  I’m assuming you started with C-3PO for a reason. In Star Wars, he’s the robot who translates for the hero, cautions the hero not to act so impulsively, provides a little comic relief, and gets himself into tight spots that force the hero to rescue him. Your robot could fill similar roles in your story, but he’s also a unique robotic creation all your own. Always bring your own fresh ideas, even to the old archetypes.

  I wish I could tell you that’s easier than you think, but I’m going to have to side with Pyr editorial director Lou Anders, who says a first-time author has to “be better than brilliant.” He explains, “There are so so so so many fantasy manuscripts doing the rounds out there. And the problem isn’t that it’s all drek. It’s that it’s all average, competent, but not exuberantly good. Your writing needs to make an editor leap up out of his/her chair. Good writing outs.”

  CHAPTER 30

  AVOID ANACHRONISMS

  Anachronisms are the most common and most insidious disease of science fiction and fantasy. They can take many forms, popping up at all the least convenient times, and sometimes leaving authors and editors scratching their heads over how to fix ones they’ve found or how to apologize for ones discovered by readers. You’d better know what an anachronism is, learn how to spot them, and spend a good portion of your writing time cleaning them up.

  An anachronism is an unintentional mistake in chronology.

  Here are two fun examples:

  The space shuttle Dr. Floyd takes to the space station in 2001: A Space Odyssey is operated by Pan Am, an airline that went out of business in 1991.

  Stephen King’s The Green Mile is set in the fictional Cold Mountain Penitentiary in Louisiana in 1932, and prominently features death row inmates executed by means of the electric chair. But the electric chair wasn’t used in Louisiana until 1941.

  ANACHRONISMS IN SCIENCE FICTION

  In the example from 2001, we see the bane of the science fiction author’s existence: Your story is overtaken by events. Who could know in 1968 when that movie was made that one of the biggest airlines in the world would be out of business in less than thirty years? The movie was set in 2001 and included commercial flights to one of at least two moon cities. The story included an artificially intelligent (and homicidal) computer with full voice recognition, but Dr. Floyd had to spend money on a video phone booth—I guess you couldn’t get cell service in orbit. The story also made reference to a manned mission to Jupiter that left Earth in 2002? Where have I been?

  This movie was written and conceived by Arthur C. Clarke and Stanley Kubrick, two shockingly intelligent men who made extensive use of technical advisors from NASA and various space program contractors. They worked under what turned out to be the mistaken assumption that our government would continue to fund the manned space program at Apollo levels for the next thirty-five years. Oh, if only that had been the case.

  How do you avoid these kinds of errors? Some authors refuse to get specific about the date, or they get specific about the fact that there is no date: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. Others, like Frank Herbert, go so far into the future we’re ready to accept anything. Dune is set in the year 21,000 AD, or somewhere around there. Then there’s 1984, a novel that George Orwell certainly didn’t intend as an accurate view of the future. Orwell was writing about the world he saw around him in the 1940s: the post-war adoption of fascist principles and the establishment of the totalitarian oligarchy, which was overtly manifested in Russia, but rather more subtle in Orwell’s native Britain and here in the United States. It’s actually surprising how much Orwell got right in terms of the prosecution of the Cold War, which shifted from the Soviet Union (Eurasia) to Radical Islam (Eastasia) without most of us batting an eye, and Newspeak is a handier moniker than “political correctness,” isn’t it? Scary, actually. Orwell also sort of gets around the problem right at the beginning of the novel when Winston Smith says he’s not entirely sure it is 1984, since time-keeping has become frighteningly slippery in the world of Oceania.

  The best near-future science fiction follows in Orwell’s footsteps. Science fiction really has always been more about our world today than it is about any attempt to do the impossible: accurately predict the future.

  Consider the risks of anachronisms in science fiction with great caution. Despite great care, you may be stuck with Star Trek’s Ensign Chekov musing about life in Leningrad something like two hundred years after the Russians changed the name back to St. Petersburg. In other words, the future will catch up to you. But if your characters, your writing, and your message are enduring, you’ll get the same pass that Clarke and Kubrick have gotten, and that Orwell got. We’ll have to wait until 21,001 AD or so to see how well Dune stood up.

  GETTING IT WRONG IN FANTASY

  In fantasy, though, avoiding anachronism can be harder. Lots harder.

  Historical fantasy is really hard. Say you want to write a fantasy no
vel set in the Roman Empire. You imagine what it would have been like if the Roman legions employed cavalry mounted on flying dragons. You need to submerge yourself in that historical period. You need to be obsessive about it. Could a character be wearing glasses? Would he have ever eaten an orange? Broccoli? Tomatoes? How did the Romans treat wounds or sicknesses? If you don’t know, never assume. Check your own facts before an angry reader checks them for you.

  Other forms of fantasy pose fewer—but different—risks of anachronisms. After all, if your world is entirely divorced from Earth and any of its cultures, you are in complete control of things like food and medicine and so on. You could have your medieval fantasy people doing CPR if you want. Why not? They can wear glasses, wristwatches, or even shoot each other with guns. But refer back to the chapter on technology and use elements like these with great care. If you envision a steampunk world, then all the technological gloves are off. A steam-powered cell phone? Okay. But if you’re committing to a medieval level of technology, go forth and learn what its limits are.

  CHAPTER 31

  FOLLOW YOUR OWN RULES

  It’s your story. You are in charge of how magic works, how your faster-than-light starship flies, whether or not robots can cry, and the subtle differences between a red elf and a purple elf.

  But…

  Once you’ve set that rule, it must not change unless you make it a part of your story that something has changed.

  Remember, don’t just tell us; show us. If there’s no reason for the change, if it doesn’t move your story forward, don’t do it. Leave the magic, the starship, the robots, and the elves the same on page 200 as they were on page one.

  Consistency leads to plausibility, which, more than anything else, determines the success of your story—and I don’t mean the financial success of your book, but whether or not your story works as a story. Truth be told, the financial success won’t likely happen if you ignore your own rules, either.

  KEEP NOTES

  The first thing you must do, no matter what, is keep notes. And no, mental notes are not good enough, even if you’re sure you have a photographic memory. But where? How?

  Here’s some good advice from J. M. McDermott: “Excel spreadsheets are a marvelous way of collating vast seas of notes and information. You can build whole ‘books’ of spreadsheet data to quickly sift through your world and your notes, and keep it open in the background while you write. Simply ‘Alt-Tab’ over, and check or update your notes and ‘Alt-Tab’ back. You never even take your hands off the keyboard.”

  But you say you don’t want to learn Excel? Okay, use a Word file. Alternately, Mac has a Stickies function that could work for small batches of notes for short stories. Or you can always buy a blank notebook from your local dollar store, office supply shop, or pharmacy. Write in that notebook using pencil stubs, cheap ballpoints, or gold fountain pens—whatever’s handy.

  Avoid Rituals at All Costs

  Rituals are excuses for avoiding work and creativity. If you think you can only write your notes in that lovely leather-bound notebook your boyfriend gave you and only when it’s dark and only when it’s raining, you’re fooling yourself. Write anywhere, at any time.

  What form should those notes take? You tell me. Some people are very systematic in their note taking while others scribble down bits of disconnected information and gather them later. You need to figure this out for yourself, because different people have different thought processes. Keep in mind that no one but you need ever read these notes, so don’t get hung up on finesse.

  KEEP A WORD LIST

  The word list is an indispensable tool in writing fantasy and science fiction, so set aside a separate file on your computer or set of pages in your notebook for this.

  Obviously there’s no need to make a list of every word in your novel, but you should list every word you invent, including character and place names. This is your primary tool to make sure that Bronwyn doesn’t turn into Bronwin then into Bonwyyn as you go along. Don’t be surprised if your editor asks you for this list at some point. It will help a copy editor fix mistakes for you before you make a fool of yourself in print. Arrange these words alphabetically—Word can do that for you.

  ADD WORDS TO THE SPELL-CHECK FUNCTION

  If you’re writing on a computer, you need to use your computer’s spell-check function. No, it’s not cheating; it’s a useful tool. Be careful about believing everything it tells you, though. If it tries to fix something you’re sure is right, don’t automatically believe it, but also don’t automatically reject it—use it as a kind of alert system. If it calls something out, you know you have to double-check it.

  Spell-checkers get mighty confused by fantasy and science fiction. Your strange invented names for things won’t be in your software’s dictionary, but the program will give you an opportunity to add that word to a custom dictionary. When your spell-checker doesn’t recognize Bronwyn, go back to your word list and make sure that’s the spelling you intended. If it is, add Bronwyn to your custom dictionary. Then, if you inadvertently switch to Bronwin later on, your computer will point that out to you and give you the option of changing all occurrences of Bronwin back to Bronwyn.

  On the other hand, if the dictionary automatically recognizes the name, maybe it isn’t as original as you thought it was. Is that okay? Should you check with what that name means, in what other books a character named Bronwyn might have appeared? Do you want to rethink that name?

  If you’re not writing on a computer, take a moment to get a hold of yourself. Then go buy one and learn how to use it. It has been an essential piece of equipment for professional writers for more than twenty years. Yes, you too.

  DRAW PICTURES

  Many authors doodle while they work, drawing maps, diagrams, and seemingly meaningless squiggles. If you think visually and want to sketch what your starship looks like, or having a floor plan of the castle helps you visualize a complicated chase through the dungeons, by all means draw. Again, don’t suffer from Over-Presentation Syndrome. No one will ever see these doodles, maps, and diagrams—no one in public anyway, though your editor might like to be able to hand your drawings and notes off to a professional artist to draw a map for your book.

  YOUR WORK BIBLE

  Eventually this notebook, Word, or Excel file will end up being what writers refer to as a “bible.” It’s a book you refer to for wisdom and guidance, in this case on the specific subject of your imagined world and the characters who inhabit it.

  According to author Kevin J. Anderson, his “most important step in creating a new world for a series is to develop and write the bible. I write entries on the major cities (or worlds), the races, the history, the politics, the religion, the society, the economy, and other specific things to the book. As I write the biographies of the characters, I learn how they interconnect. As I develop the history, I get ideas for legends, conflicts, and then I need more characters to flesh that out, to pick up interesting professions I have created in earlier versions of the bible. The creative process spirals out from there, and I keep asking questions [emphasis added]. Along the way, I will do the specific research I need, which might also lead to additional ideas, to be included in the next iteration of the expanding bible.”

  Once this bible is all done—a great notebook full of lists and doodles and so on—you have a rulebook: a set of laws for how your world works, who your characters are, and how things interrelate. Does that mean that once that bible is written it should be considered holy and inviolate, never in any way reinterpreted or questioned?

  Of course not.

  After all, no one but you is ever going to read this bible. If a particular idea you were sure was pure gold three months ago is sitting in your notes like Hoover Dam, holding back that really great idea you had this morning, think through how it affects what you’ve written already and what you plan to have happen next, then go ahead and change the rule. Your notes are not meant to confine you, they’re meant to inform y
ou.

  Now follow the new rule to the letter, right up until the precise moment you decide to revise that rule—which is different from breaking it—in a really fascinating way that will make your story a million times better. Then write down the revised rule and how and why it’s different from the old rule—remember the power crystal that makes the purple fire spell bigger?

  That’s what I mean.

  TO SUM UP

  An author of science fiction and fantasy needs to read science fiction and fantasy. You should be familiar with the archetypes of the genres, and conversant in their primary texts. Then you need to consciously construct your work as a fresh take on those accepted tropes. If you’re unpublished and unknown, you have to be prepared to be held to a high standard of originality. Follow trends at your own risk, and if you’re smart and creative enough, set them.

  As you’re reading through your own work, keep a sharp eye out for anachronisms. Be careful setting the precise date for your science fiction story unless you have a very specific point to make. Star Wars might eventually appear dated as special effects get better and better, but it will never be “wrong,” because only George Lucas knows what really happened a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.

  But even Lucas gets in trouble when he fails to follow both the rules he’s set for himself (like the sudden, inexplicable introduction of micro-organisms to explain the Force), or rules of common usage (the word parsec, which is a unit of distance, apparently used to indicate speed).