Month: November 2019

Sunday Sub-Genres: Arthurian Fantasy

Ariel Paiement

Introduction

This week’s discussion turns from the darker sub-genres of fantasy to one that hails back to legends. Arthurian fantasy is a sub-genre of fantasy that is quite common. People love a good spin on the story of King Arthur, and given the fact that the original legend is bigger than life with many fantastical elements to it (I mean, Merlin exists, right?), it’s hardly surprising that Arthurian fantasies can be found in almost any bookstore if one looks. So let’s dive into this interesting sub-genre to get a good grasp on writing it and what we’re really looking at if we’re reading it.

Defining Arthurian Fantasy

First of all, we’ll start with the definition. This time around, it’s pretty easy. Arthurian fantasy is, simply put, any fantasy that involves some element of King Arthur’s legend and a lot of fantasy. The main appeal here, naturally, is the creativity in the ways Arthur’s legend gets incorporated into the fantasy world. The ways this happens are as varied as the stories themselves. So, there you have it. The definition of Arthurian fantasy.

Writing Arthurian Fantasy

Of course, this is the area that all you writers are actually interested in. We know what Arthurian fantasy is, but how on earth does one go about writing it? Given the myriad ways to incorporate the King Arthur legend into a story, what is really concrete about the genre that authors and writers can use to help themselves really write a true Arthurian fantasy.

Let’s take a look at the common elements and discuss what ingredients you need to write this sub-genre. That should help to clarify the issue, even if the plots and characters may vary.

Plot Complexity

Let’s be honest. While character-driven fiction is increasingly becoming the norm in writing, we all know that character-driven fiction is nothing worth reading if there’s no plot. Granted, you can prop up some really bad plot lines with character-driven fiction, but if the plot is really bad, good characters won’t help at all. In Arthurian fantasy, the plot is especially important. Most of these books, true to the legend itself, have a lot of complexity in their plot. Backstabbing? You got it. Vying for the throne? Check. Evil cousins or half-siblings? Yup. You get the idea. If drama and intrigue can be fit in, they are. All of the betrayals, double-crossing liars, and just straight up enemies lends a great deal of complexity to the plots of Arthurian fantasies. Also worth noting is that most Arthurian fantasies contain a lot of complex layers through use of prophecies and the appearance of quests characters must complete. Politics, betrayal, and intrigue aren’t the only areas where things are complex. So, if you want to write Arthurian fantasy, you’re going to have to write complex plot lines of some sort. It’s just expected.

Magic

This is the one most people wonder about when it comes to fantasy. Magic is one of those borderline situations for Arthurian fantasy. Some of them are really high in magic use while others just aren’t. It all depends on the plot and the focus of the story. So this one leaves you with a lot of wiggle room. You can pretty much write it how you want it. 

Themes

So, this is one that you don’t necessarily see in every sub-genre of fantasy, but in Arthurian fantasy, you may see it more often. For Arthurian fantasy, the themes usually have to do with power, family structure, and moral codes or honor. While these things don’t seem like huge themes or major areas of social implication, they can be used to expand into a commentary on social implications or grander ideas throughout the story. It all depends on the writer and how they choose to do things. But most of them do, at least, focus on moral codes and honorable conduct since that was a big focus in the legend of King Arthur.

Conclusion

Arthurian fantasy is a really nice sub-genre to work with because most people, even if they don’t usually enjoy fantasy, will find something in the sub-genre that they do enjoy just because most people enjoy the legend of Arthur. It doesn’t mean your story will be all things to all people, but it does mean that your chosen sub-genre has a higher chance of appealing to readers who might not otherwise read fantasy. That’s a very nice perk since fantasy, though it is a huge genre, is not everyone’s cup of tea, particularly if they’re happier with scientific explanations and technology than they are with magic and mystical reasoning. Nothing wrong with that, but it does mean that hardcore fantasy may not appeal to as many as Arthurian fantasy does.

Further Reading and Resources

T.H. White’s The Once and Future King (probably fine for teens)

Stephen R. Lawhead’s Taliesan (First in a series. I highly recommend Lawhead for those who like historical style fantasy, but he isn’t meant for pre-teens and younger teens. Sixteen and up should be okay for most of his stuff.)

Jack Whyte’s Uther (Probably not good for kids.)

Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court (If you enjoy humor, you’ll really like this one.)

*Nancy Springer’s I Am Mordred

Flash Fiction Fridays – Hear Him Thunder

Ariel Paiement1 Comment

This week’s flash fiction is from a universe that hasn’t shown up in any of my official work yet. It may or may not ever do so, but it is connected to Revelar’s Queen in an interesting way. The connection between this world and the occupants of the location being terrorized by the villain in this piece was the result of an exercise in Holly Lisle’s Build a World Clinic ebook. If you’re interested in learning how to world-build what you need as you go along in a sane, organized fashion, I highly recommend it!

~~~

ENLIL rose into the sky, the sparks dancing around him and the winds picking up. He opened his mouth in a soundless scream of triumph, spread his arms and unleashed the storm inside. They thought they could beat him down? They thought that because he was of a lower class than they were that they could treat him like scum? Well, they’d learn. Because this so-called slave was their downfall, the perfect storm to bring reform. She was his, and they had denied him to her simply because he didn’t look like the one they thought she was pledged to. 

Lightning arced out of his fingertips, and the thunderheads blew from his mouth as he howled his victory. Below, houses went up in flames, and torrents of rain washed away whatever the flames didn’t touch. Then the rain put out the flames in the other areas too, and everything was enveloped in a maelstrom of wind, rain, and lightning with the thunder booming over it to provide the final beat on the drum that announced that death had come. 

He stretched his arms out further, tipped his head back and laughed into the sky. This was power. This was freedom. They would learn, and they would suffer just as everyone they had touched with their corruption had. Just as he had. This storm, he himself, were only the beginning. The beginning of devastation.

Only his betrothed would escape. But if she scorned him? His fingers twitched, shooting off more sparks and another bolt of lightning. If she scorned him, he would make her suffer more than all of her subjects. She had no right to refuse destiny, no right to look down on him because fate hadn’t chosen a more worthy object for her affection. So, if she thought him unworthy, he would show her how wrong she was. The vessel that housed him might be a slave, but he was no slave. He was far more ancient and powerful than any of them. He was storm. He was thunder. And he was destruction incarnate. He would have his way.

They would hear him thunder, and they would regret awakening his wrath.

~~~

That’s it for this week! I hope you all enjoyed. Have something you’d like to see in this section of the blog? Leave me a comment or shoot me an email! I’m always open to suggestions.

Work-In-Progress Wednesdays #25

Ariel Paiement

This week, I have an excerpt from a new short story I’m working on for a collection of stories I’m hoping to release in early 2021. The story, Revelar’s Queen, is about a fae serving girl and the Unseelie King. In this story, the Unseelie King is just the name that Earthlings gave to a being from another world, the ones–since one king didn’t survive from the earliest Earth tales of the Seelie and Unseelie up to modern times–who gave rise to the legends of the Unseelie in the first place.

~~~

AISLING wandered the barren halls in a stupor. How had the glorious, awe-inspiring halls of Queen Sairead’s court become like this? Paint-chipped walls and stained carpets, threadbare shades and broken windows. The chandeliers hung dun in their places, and the candelabras had fallen from the walls. In places, the stone even showed through the ruined drywall that had been put up back when it first became an accepted way to build walls. 

She didn’t know this place. Up above, a rafter creaked. She darted forward, narrowly avoiding a beam that had broken loose, bringing an entire section of the roof and the plastering down behind her. She choked on the dust and spun to look at the way back. Blocked. She didn’t even know for certain where she was anymore. This part of the mansion was from the adjoining castle, and it was much, much older. Still, it hadn’t looked like this, and she bit her lip. Should she really continue onward in light of the roof’s clear instability?

Her shoulders slumped. What choice was there? She couldn’t move the rubble now blocking the way out, and she knew no one was in this wing. She wasn’t supposed to be in this wing either, really. But she’d come in here for a place away from the bustle and chaos that was Midsummer’s Festival preparations. A broom closet would’ve been the safer option, evidently.

A set of doors loomed up ahead, the gold gilding on them lackluster and the paint peeling. How long had it been since anyone was in here? No one who was allowed her had talked of this place as an abandoned wreck. They all said it was a quiet, peaceful place meant only for the Queen and her closest advisers.

She approached the doors with careful steps and tried not to make noise as she cracked the doors open. A tiny squeak emitted from the hinges, and she cringed. Stupid. Of course it would creak! Things this old and in such a state of disrepair would make noise when opened. She stiffened and listened for a long moment, but no one moved to accost her or shouted in alarm.

The tension in her shoulders eased, and she released a low, slow sigh. She ran her fingers over the flaking gold and touched the ruined paint. Did she even want to know what was behind them? Did it matter? The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and her entire body tingled. Whatever was behind this door, it would change her life forever. She was certain of that. That thought alone sent a tremor through her. She could still turn around.

But where would she go? The way out was blocked, and no one knew she was here. Better to keep looking for another exit. She pressed her palm to the door and cracked it open just a bit more before peeking inside.

There was a man crouched in the center of the room. She stiffened, her whole body trembling. Why hadn’t he said anything when she first opened the doors? He had to know she was here. And who was he? One of the Queen’s councilors? Another intruder? The last didn’t seem likely. Who would wish to intrude here where there was nothing worth stealing and the roof could cave in at a moment’s notice?

He had his gaze fixed on her and the door, and his uncanny citrine eyes stayed on her even as she backed away from the door. She pressed a hand to her breast, wishing it could still her racing heart. Should she run? Or would it be best to simply admit that she’d been breaking the rules and misbehaving? Maybe if she owned up to it, her punishment would be lighter. After all, if she told him the truth, that she wandered in here just for a moment of peace and quiet, he might be more understanding.

But understanding was the last thing in those eyes, which were still trained on the door and seemed to pierce through to her soul. She swallowed hard and turned to go.

“Going so soon?”

She turned, both startled and enamored by the velvet-and-silk voice that filled the room and spilled out to the hall where she stood. Still, she wasn’t going to walk in there. She took another good look at the man and the room where he was now standing instead of crouching.

He watched her stare from beneath dark lashes, which made his citrine irises more startling still. His clothing was immaculate, unlike the rest of the room, which seemed to be some sort of ballroom. He wore a tailored suit and nicely polished boots. A little behind the times with the boots and the suit’s cut, but then, members of the Queen’s court often dressed as if they were in the nineteenth century. Unlike the other members of the court, though, he possessed a feral look. His hair was unkempt, and his smile was razor sharp. She shivered and looked away from him to the rest of the room. Why did he both terrify and excite her?

The floor around him was dusty, and the light coming through the dingy window just behind him cast the edge of some kind of platform into sharp relief against the floor. Yet, somehow, he didn’t cast a shadow. In that room of decay and despair, he fit in but also stood apart. His wild hair indicated a carelessness that the room’s occupants reflected in letting the curtains be eaten by moths and time unheeded, but his clothes were immaculate. An enigma in every way, even if he did appear to be somewhat at home in the otherwise empty room.

She cracked the door a little more and peered past him at the strange crack in the wall that was emitting an unearthly glow. What could it be? Some sort of portal, maybe? It didn’t look safe, whatever it was. She couldn’t see past the light no matter how hard she strained, but she caught some chords of an ethereal, haunted melody drifting through the room to where she was standing.

“Will you hide there all day, daughter of shadows?”

She bit her lip, ignored the strange rush of warmth his sultry voice sent through her and shook her head. Something about this was wrong. She backed away from the door again, determined to run this time. He never gave her the chance. The second she turned her back, hard fingers dug into her waist, pulled her back and held her still. How dare he do this? She squirmed and kicked at his shins, but it didn’t achieve anything. It only made him laugh, a rich sound that sent a shiver down her spine.

Aesling frowned and struggled more, but he only pinned her to the wall and gripped her chin in his firm, hard fingers. “You want out of here, yes?”

She nodded, relaxed and hoped he’d loosen his grip. He didn’t. But he also didn’t tighten it to the point that it inflicted pain. 

“What if I’m the only way out?”

As if she’d believe that. She eyed his belt, looking for any weapon she could use. Only one presented itself, and she knew with one glance that it wasn’t an option. The single blade, unsheathed and tucked through a belt loop, could be a way to free herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch it. It whispered to her of arcane things and darkness, of the Seelie and the Unseelie, and worst of all, of war and disaster. She let out a muted cry and wrenched her gaze away, only to meet the stranger’s yellow gaze again.

He gave her another of his feral grins and leans in closer. “I asked a question, and I expect an answer, please. What if I’m the only way out of here?”

“How can that be possible?”

“Look around you, little one. Do you see a luxurious castle with multiple entrances and exits for the servants like yourself?”

She glared at him. “I fail to see how that’s important. Just what are you driving at?”

He laughed. “That if you want to escape this cursed mansion where everything is dying along with your Queen’s power, you’ll come with me.” He leaned closer and ran his mouth along the curve of her ear. “It’s a simple choice. Starve to death here or take a single sip from my cup.”

~~~

That’s it for this week’s Work-In-Progress Wednesday, everyone! I hope you all enjoyed it. Have something you’re working on? Nanowrimo is under way for the month of November now, and this is part of the project I’m hoping to complete for it. Do any of you have a project for this year? If so, feel free to share about it in the comments!

Saturday Setup: Magic – Establishing Rules

Ariel Paiement

Introduction

This week’s discussion is about magic. What good would any discussion of fantasy do if you didn’t go over magic? Since most sub-genres of fantasy include magic to one degree or another, this is an important thing to cover. We’ll begin our discussion with a talk about establishing rules, and next week, we’ll go over different systems of magic.

Why Bother with Rules?

The first obvious reason for this is to avoid chaos. If a spell does one thing today and another tomorrow, you might have material for a hilarious comedy, but nothing would ever work out according to plan. Your characters could never really learn magic because nothing is ever the same on any given day. 

But there’s a larger reason. While it might be amusing to have a magic system that has no rules and where anything could happen at any time, readers expect stability. They expect writers to lay down the rules. Of course, you won’t just say right up front what those rules are, but gradually, as they see more and more use of magic in your story, they will figure out what is and is not possible. 

This, of course, means that you need to know the rules.

Establishing Rules

Now that we’ve covered the reason you need rules, let’s talk about establishing them. It pays to go through a little bit of planning before you start writing. Now, you don’t have to go crazy with it before you start writing. If you really love worldbuilding, then feel free to go through an extensive, in-depth process to create your magic system prior to writing, but if you’re the sort who isn’t keen on spending months or even weeks on this, don’t stress. You don’t have to. Don’t believe the lie that you need to put countless hours into this or any other aspect of world-buillding prior to writing. It simply isn’t the case.

However, you should take some time to think through the basic rules. How does the magic work? Is it a spell-based system? Do people inherently have an ability? Is it a combination of both? For example, on Alcardia where the Pathways series takes place, the system allows for both. Some people are born with magic inherently. These people can use on of a few areas of magic and only a very specific portion of it. Ie: a water mage might be able to manipulate water or he might be able to create it, not both. But there are also those who can’t use magic inherently at all, and these individuals use spells to remain competitive with those who can use magic. So you’re not locked into one way of doing things, but you do need to have a system, and you need to know what can and can’t happen in that system.

For example, if we take Alcardia’s system, I would need to have a very good reason for why someone would have an ability that isn’t related to earth, water, air, fire, mental, or physical magic. (As an aside, I do in fact have those who can wield darkness and light, so I had to have an explanation for it.) If I had a character who could do more than one thing with his element (such as create and manipulate water), I would have to have a really good explanation for it because that isn’t how the system works.

This will help to prevent you from going insane trying to remember all the things you’ve already done and trying to figure out where to go next in an unpredictable system. It gives you clear boundaries, and if you go outside of them, it forces you to have a good reason. As in, a very, very good reason because neither your story nor your reader can accept random breaks in the system rules just to accommodate what you think would be cool. That kind of addition is best saved for other magic systems based around that exception or for fiction pieces you wrote for your enjoyment with no intention of letting them see the light of day.

Consequences

Another point here, when you’re establishing rules, is to avoid creating a system with no give and take. Nothing is free. If your hero could use magic to solve every problem with no fear of consequences, then why wouldn’t he? And when he does, you lose your story or risk making it entirely unbelievable. So, every action should have some sort of consequence to it. That could be that if they try to go beyond a certain amount of energy, they tap into their life force and may die. Or maybe it’s that if they use it, it could take something away from them, something that they’ll never be able to choice for themselves. This could be anything from losing memories to losing something or someone they care about very deeply. But there has to be some consequence or risk that keeps the individuals in the story (at least, the good guys) from using magic to surmount every obstacle with ease.

An Important Note

Please notice that I haven’t told you how you should build your rules or what rules you can and can’t have. This is fantasy. As long as the system remains true to itself, you can do just about anything. The point I want to get across here is that if you’re using magic in your fantasy novel, you absolutely must have established rules to govern it. 

Conclusion

Magic is often an integral part of fantasy, so making sure that you have a system that works and has clear structure is an important part of planning and world-building for any fantasy novel that includes it. Take some time to think about how you might be able to limit and structure your world’s ability to use magic. Make sure you write it down though because you don’t want to lose it or forget what you set out for the system, particularly if the book is the beginning of a series or an entire saga of books that requires the use that system.

Flash Fiction Fridays – Unseelie

Ariel Paiement

This one is a bit of a one off from a world-building exercise I did. I’ll probably be writing a post about the method I used in a Thursday Technicalities, but that might be a bit in coming. I’m undecided on whether or not I’ll make a short story or novel out of this flash fiction, but we’ll see. Here you are!

~~~

I touch the flaking paint and peeling gold gilding of the doors, almost afraid of what might be behind them. But I also know it could be the only way out of here. I can’t go back down the dimly lit corridor I followed here, after all. So, I swallow the fear and press the door open just a crack, just enough to peek through.

The first thing I see is the man at the center of the room. The room itself is in shambles and looks to be empty aside from him. No noise is made, and I am certain I gave no indication of my presence. The door hinges didn’t make any noise earlier. But he knows I am here. He watches me from beneath long lashes, his irises a startling citrine. His clothing is immaculate, unlike the rest of the ballroom. A tailored suit and waistcoat with nice shoes. But his hair is unruly, giving him a wild look. And then he smiles at me, and I shiver. Out of fear or anticipation, I can’t say. Something about him both terrifies and warms me. 

The floor around him is dusty, and the light coming through the dingy window just behind him casts the edge of some kind of platform into sharp relief against the floor. Yet, somehow, he doesn’t cast a shadow. In that room of decay and despair, he fits in but also stands apart. His wild hair indicates a carelessness that the room’s occupants reflected in letting the curtains be eaten by moths and time unheeded, but his clothes are immaculate. An enigma in every way, even if he did appear to be somewhat at home in the otherwise empty room.

I crack the door a little more and peer past him at the strange crack in the wall that’s emitting an unearthly glow. What could it be? Some sort of portal, maybe? It doesn’t look safe, whatever it is. I can’t see past the light no matter how hard I strain, but I catch some chords of an ethereal, haunted melody drifting through the room to where I’m standing.

“Will you hide there all day, daughter of the shadows?” His voice is silky and sultry, meant entirely to charm.

I shiver and shake my head, backing away from the door. Something about this feels wrong. I never get the chance to run. He has me in his grasp the second I turn away from the doors, determined to find another way. His musk and pine scent envelops me, both soothing and frightening at the same time. How is that even possible?

I struggle against his grip, but he easily pins me to the wall just outside the dimly-lit ballroom.

“You want out of here, yes?”

I nod, go limp and hope he’ll loosen his grip. He doesn’t.

“What if I’m the only way?”

My gaze drops to his belt, searching for any way I might fend him off. His belt holds a single blade, unsheathed and tucked through a loop. But one look tells me all I need to know. I won’t touch it. It whispers to me of arcane things and darkness, of the Seelie and the Unseelie, and worst of all, of war and disaster. Shuddering, I look away. It gives no sign that it might harm its owner or even me, but something about it is simply unsettling.

The man gives me a feral grin. “I asked a question. What if I am your only escape?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That if you want to escape this cursed mansion, you will have to come to me.” He leans closer until his lips brush the shell of my ear. “It’s a simple choice. Die here or take just a single sip from my cup.”

“Your cup?” I peer at the wall across from us as if it might contain answers and try not to notice how closely his body presses against mine. 

“I left it in the ballroom when I came to fetch you.” He pulls away and grabs my wrist, tugging me through the doors. “You can either drink from it or starve to death in this place.”

“Why isn’t there an escape?”

His grip tightens. “Because of fate. Or because of whatever it is that will make you feel better about what is going to happen.”

My gut clenches. I stare at the object that is resting under the unfiltered brilliance of the strange crack in the wall. An odd liquid that looks silver in nature swirls about in the cup. “You want me to drink that? It looks like it might kill me.”

He forces me to my knees before kneeling beside me. “It won’t. Just one sip. One tiny sip, and you’ll be freed.”

I reach out and pick up the cool metal cup. “Just one?”

“Just one.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I lift the cup to my lips and take a tiny sip of the liquid. At first, a sweet and spicy tang fills my mouth. Then the bitterness hits, and I gag, choking on what I swallowed. It burns all the way down my throat and sets a fire in my belly. The warmth isn’t unpleasant, but I don’t like it all the same. “What is this stuff?”

He gives me a mysterious smile, and the liquid in the cup begins to change to gas, billowing out of the cup and flowing over me. It seeps into my pores and invades my nose, drying my throat and leaving the same cloying taste of sweet, spicy, and bitter on my tongue. “W-what have you done?”

He laughed and laced his fingers through mine as every nerve in my body burned and ached. “Made you mine.”

~~~

That’s it for this post, everyone! If you have something you’d like to see for future Flash Fiction Fridays, feel free to leave the suggestion in the comments below!