Same World, New Story

How easy is it to go back to a world you've created?  Lots of authors do it.  Sometimes with sequels, sometimes with prequels.  Sometimes with time jumps.  Often with wholly a wholly new cast of characters.  When I finished the novels of the Collegia Magica, I realized that I had created five fairly complete worlds, all of which I loved.

I try very hard to make my series have a good resolution.  I want readers to believe that the mysteries and dilemmas of the plot have been untangled and finished off in a satisfactory - and believable - way.  And that the characters live on in the new directions they've taken, with love, magic, companionship, hope, grief, whatever I've left with them. I have always sworn not to go back to a previous cast of characters or world unless I had a new story to tell.

That's why I picked Navronne - the world of the Lighthouse Duet, Flesh and Spirit and Breath and Bone.  Not only was the world - with its mythic underpinnings and rich history - one I enjoyed, I felt a nagging sense that I had left a lot of interesting story on the table.  Valen, the hero of the Lighthouse books, was a rebel, a wanderer, and the path of his life took him to a most unexpected place.  While the part of the world that he had spent his life running from - the families of pureblood sorcerers with their strange culture, their strict discipline, and their unique position in the world - was left almost entirely unexplored.  Valen hated the life his birth condemned him to - and he discovered the life he was meant to have.  What would life be like for a man of similar age and similar status who embraced the role he was born to?  Who had a family that appreciated his talents and loved him dearly.  That man is Lucian de Remeni-Masson, a very wealthy, privileged sorcerer, born not with one, but two strong magical talents - most unusual, as it happens - and who believes that his magic is a divine gift.  Lucian embraces the strict life that Valen abhorred.   And then, of course, because he is my hero...

  ...everything goes wrong.

That is the story begun in Dust and Light (Roc Books, August 2014). More next time on the peculiar difficulties of going back - not only to the world but to a parallel timeframe, so that the civil war, the environmental collapse, and the rampaging Harrowers that were so much fun in the first series, could set up problems for Lucian as well.  Just very different problems. Read more of this post!

Momentum and Description

I've talked several times about working to regain momentum after life events, vacations, distractions such as revisions or proof reviews for earlier books. I usually have a few days of spotty work, where I'm easily distracted, trying to pick up the threads of plots and subplots, the dynamics of character understanding, of relationships, of evolving mysteries... At times words flow. At times, they're balky and spurty, like turning on the water after the main system has been shut off for a while and is full of air bubbles.

For me, three things contribute to word flow:

1. Familiarity with characters and situations; ie. not having to pry details of goals and motivations from a character, or invent that parallel world I've been putting into square brackets to look at later;
2. Knowing (and liking) where I'm going;
3. Having my mind immersed in the writing - the ability to focus

There are also some important intangibles, like having chosen the right starting point for this section of the book. If I hit a major block, it's usually because I've headed off in a wrong direction - see earlier postings on what I do when I'm stuck.

I'll also get bogged down in description, especially the first time I visit that particular place. Sometimes I go around in circles for not much reason, like the library at Castelle Escalon. Is there a need for this library to be all that different from other libraries I've described? Probably not. Back up. Go a different direction.

Sometime the thinking time is fruitful, like my time figuring out what I meant by "three water gates" to the Spindle Prison. It expanded what I thought was a throwaway scene between Anne and her hostage brother into something creepy and meaningful.


I wrote the first few paragraphs of her journey to the prison on my last wonderful, productive few days in the mountains with fellow writers. I figured I'd be done with the chapter within a days of getting home, as I had gained so much Momentum from the retreat. But completing Chapter 14 took me an entire week. The crucial reunion at the end of the journey kept moving further away. Why? What happened to Momentum?

As Anne was seeing the city of Merona after half a month in the closed world of palace life, I wanted her to witness more evidence of the changes that were happening in the city as a result of the Bad Things Rising in the world. Which meant, of course, that I had to figure out what they were. Something different, larger, creepier than the things she had seen fourteen days before when arriving at the city. That took a bit, but I was happy with what she discovered, like:

A few turnings farther down the hill, Duplais pointed out another deserted tenement. A cracked signboard, painted with three gold balls, dangled by one corner over the door. The windows and door gaped black like empty eye sockets. Air rushed into them as if they were sucking every breath out of the world.

Then we got to the Spindle.

It's important to judge how and when to describe settings in detail. Too much can slow the pace of the action. There are even times when the first visit is not the time to do it.

We visited the Spindle once in The Spirit Lens. Portier visited a prisoner there. The problem was, we were building up to the climax of the book. Portier was in a hurry, and I didn't want to reveal the details of his discussion with a certain prisoner. It would have been cheating to give readers a detailed description of the locale, and then skimp on the meat of the visit. The narrative is supposed to reflect the point-of-view character's state of mind. Portier was in a hurry to accomplish something on his visit. He was focused on that and not on the prison itself. So we learned that the Spindle is a grim tower prison, set on a nub of rock in the deepest channel of a river. And it has three water gates. That's it.

In The Soul Mirror, the atmosphere of the journey to the prison, the place itself, and what my heroine discovers there is quite relevant to the actual events that occurred inside, and her growing certainty that there is something BIGGER going on.

And, of course, there is. Poor Ambrose. Not a good place at all.
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Spirit Lens Copyedits: The Nitty Gritty

As my long ago post noted, I've been fortunate with copyeditors through the years, having only one bad experience - an overzealous copyeditor who worked on Revelation. I had to spend a lot of time undoing what she had done. I've never had any problem getting my copyedit changes accepted, whether I've rejected or altered the CE's suggestions.

One glance at the Spirit Lens manuscript, and I knew this was going to be more complicated than usual.



As you might be able to tell from other postings, I am meticulous about words. I tweak and change, ever searching for the right words to evoke mood, time period, character information, action. The difference between shout and scream is important. Burned and the archaic form, burnt, have a different sound and feel to them, and egads evokes a very different time locale than godamighty or by Grapthar's Hammer. Words are an intricate part of world building. I feel that my job isn't done until I have all the right ones.

I was also well trained in grammar and spelling, and a lot of my craft learning was how to adapt the formal writing rules I learned in school for fiction writing. My manuscripts are long, somewhere between 150, 000 and 180,000 words. By the time I turn it in after revision, most of the words are the ones I want, and almost all spelled right, and put together with every regard for proper grammar. Where the grammar is informal or incorrect, I've chosen it to be that way. Though, to be honest, I am terrible at compound words: sylph-like or sylphlike, mid-afternoon or midafternoon, and so forth.

Words are also a critical component of narrative voice. Is my narrator educated or ignorant? Thirty years old or ten? Is he verbose or terse? Is he a storyteller or is he a librarian converted into a royal investigator? All these things should be revealed not only in the character's dialogue, but also in the narration of the story if it is told in an intimate point-of-view. Sometimes, a character speaks in a rural or uneducated dialect. Sometimes a character speaks in fragments. Sometimes particular archaic or peculiar words show up in a character's voice to evoke a time that is not 21st century USA.

These were the sources of most of the corrections caused the problem with this copyediting experience.

One of the CE's tasks is to make "suggestions" for clarity. I deliberately chose to use the metric system in these books, rather than make up a system of measurement. Because Sabria is in the throes of a scientific explosion akin to the first half of our 17th century, I wanted the feel of a very precise measurement scheme. [And yes, I know the metric system came into use somewhat later than that, but this is not historical Europe! It certainly COULD have been in use in the 17th century!] Sabria is also a kingdom that is very much a Mediterranean-style landscape and feel, so I didn't want to use the US spellings of the metric measurements. I preferred centimetre to centimeter, and litre to liter. The CE kindly changed all the spellings to the US spellings and queried every single measurement as to whether I wouldn't rather use yards, miles, and gallons for measurement. Aarrgh. Lots of "no"s and lots of stets ensued.

Another of the CE's tasks is to correct grammar, and to make sure that a manuscript adheres to the publisher's styleguide with respect to spelling [honor vs honour, backward vs backwards, and so forth]. So I found some words in the narrative, which is Portier's voice, had been corrected. The aforementioned burnt as the past participle of burn. He speaks of ten days previous, rather than ten days ago. I had to stet all those well-intended corrections as well.

Portier also is a librarian, an intensely scholarly and logical man. He thinks in lists. He often speaks and thinks in bullet points. I express this in fragments. Every CE knows that sentence fragments are OK in fiction. Certainly in dialogue. Mostly they leave them alone, resisting the call of their formal English training that says sentence fragments are a no, no. This particular CE was really bothered by Portier's fragmentary thinking and attempted to create complete sentences out of many of them. In a few cases, her point was well taken, as the fragments did not follow logically from the prior sentence (which is what makes them work.) But for the most part, these efforts to neaten up the prose didn't work. That was a LOT of retyping and correction. I was really irritated as I did it.

But once I was done, I mellowed. The CE had been meticulous about the things she caught. Though I wished she had focused on more useful aspects of her tasks, the book was better for our mutual efforts. And that's what counts.
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Treasure Hunts

I think I last wrote about research back when I was just beginning to work on Unholy Alliance. But I wouldn't want you to think that was the last time I went hunting the wonderful details that can make a fictional world real. Here are a few places I've visited in the past couple of weeks (not counting Chicago where I was visiting family over Thanksgiving!) I'll leave you to guess what mayhem I've conjured from them...



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coppice (A lot is written about the flaws of Wikipedia - not entirely correct info, amateurish, incomplete, unreliable - but it is a great jumping off point and often leads to other links.)

http://www.hobbithouseinc.com/personal/woodpics/#letterI

http://www.cidpusa.org/blood_letting.htm

http://www.medicalantiques.com/medical/Scarifications_and_Bleeder_Medical_Antiques.htm

http://www.naturesongs.com/birds.html

http://babelfish.yahoo.com/

http://www.archives.nd.edu/cgi-bin/lookdown.pl

http://paulcarlisle.net/mooncalendar/

Complete Mediterranean Wildlife Photoguide (Sterry)
English Through the Ages (Brohaugh)

And, as always, my treasured Roget - not an imitation thesaurus or word finder or synonym finder, but the real Roget's Thesaurus, where you can look up words by their semantics and find that word that's on the tip of your tongue but just won't come.

Enjoy!

And here are two more I just had to add

http://www.bellaonline.com/articles/art7783.asp

and

http://smallfarms.typepad.com/small_farms/2006/04/freerange_pigs_.html Who can resist an article called Free Range Pigs?

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Defining the Undefinable

Ghost hunting - did I mention that? My intrepid investigator Portier questions a soldier about the dire events of the past. As the unfortunate fellow spills his guts, he mentions that he sees a dead man's face every hour of every day. "In your dreams?" asks Portier - a rhetorical question. But the answer is unsettling.

Dreaming, I see him. Waking, I see him. I see him in alleys, in courtyards, on the walls, in the trees, inside my eyelids. That bloodless, battered wreck of a face...

Even in a society where people believe their ancestors struggle through seven gates to reach heaven, Portier doesn't believe in ghosts. "Dead is dead," he says several times. But somehow as he is leaving the beleaguered fellow in the dark alley, he gets the creeps and runs back to lights and civilization.

So I write these things, and Portier tells the story to Dante, the mage, and Dante insists that they go back and investigate "what makes Calvino de Santo wail." And now I have to write the scene where they see what Calvino sees...which means I have to figure it out myself.

What is truth in the world I have created? It doesn't matter what I believe about ghosts in my own life, what matters is the truth in Portier's world. There are certain metaphysical boundaries that every fantasy writer must define for a fictional world...


These are the boundaries between

• magic


• myth


• superstition


• religious practice


• science


• divine truth

That is, we have to decide what is the divine truth for our world and what our characters believe. If these are different, as Seyonne discovers in Revelation or Aidan learns in Song of the Beast, it creates tension and story possibilities. Valen does not learn which of his world's great religions holds the truth of the god's/gods' identity, but he learns the truth behind a myth that makes up a part of each god story. In fact, both religions may hold some aspect of divine truth.

When we are designing magic as an integral part of a world, we have to know whether magic can intrude upon or impact divine truth. Is Calvino de Santo's ghost a refugee from beyond the Sabrian Veil, or is the Veil a myth and he but a spirit hanging around where he has no right to be, or is he but some odd refraction of light combined with a guilty conscience? Portier will have his opinion. Dante will have his opinion. But I'd better know the truth or the story falls apart. Work, work, work... Read more of this post!

Gap Filling

Many writers, even non-outliners, purposefully move forward with the story, leaving all expansion, clarification, and enhancement of plot points for another draft or revision cycle. Sometimes I'll do that, too, but mostly my peculiar muse requires me to stop and add in those little "discovery bits" that crop up along the way. Yes, this slows me down, but as I have said many times, for me the very act of putting words on paper spurs new ideas. And this is not limited to forward writing, but encompasses these small rewrites, as well. As the insights that spur them often occur when I've just completed a scene and I'm assessing Where To Go Next, this is another way of kick-starting myself into the next scene.

Here are a couple of today's examples.


As I was glancing over my worldbuilding notes on magic, wondering if I made any mention of ghosts, [Did I mention we were going ghost hunting?] I reviewed my glossary of magical terms. When I was sketching out Sabria's magic, I made a distinction between a spell and a ritual. Spells are individual enchantments, worked according to a formula with certain particles (objects). Spells have a focus--the thing or person to be acted upon, a sphere of influence, a nexus or center of potency, and they are often attached to some receptacle - a carrier, so to speak. Ritual, on the other hand, is a combination of spells, often with multiple practitioners, bound together by an enclosure and designed for some great work: caelomancy or weather ritual, terromancy or earth ritual such as planting or harvest magic, or vitomancy - a healing ritual.

I had forgotten this (spell/ritual) distinction, and decided that the magical occurrence I wrote last week [yeah, that agonizing harbor scene] would certainly qualify as ritual and not a single enchantment. I had tried to complicate the magic so it could not be easily dissected by my investigators, but by recasting it as a ritual, its complications were inherent and needed less explanation. By rewriting two small paragraphs, I was able to simplify my aftermath, plus reveal more about the world. To make the scene work, I had to rechoreograph, which caused me to rework the emotional context of one character and eventually will allow me to throw suspicion on a character I want to be falsely accused of Bad Stuff. I don't have to devise yet another scene to do those things. Yes, yes, yes.

The second small rewrite occurred as I considered motivations and the old who-knew-what list. Early in the story I introduced a magical artifact, a spyglass which caused a fairly spooky reaction in those who looked through it. I'm not sure where this fits into my villains' plot - I just liked it. It was a prime mover in getting this secret investigation plot moving. In essence I am investigating this spyglass right alongside my fearless trio. Because I know so little, this is a plot device that insists that new material be written in as I go. What would a sorcerer do with this glass that shows him very ugly things?

He looks through it. He examines it carefully and discovers that it is not expertly made. And then he takes it apart. Inside he discovers a lensmaker's mark. And Portier intends to find out who made it. This, of course, forces me to think about who made it, and I realize that it was not the people I thought. It forces me to ask a question - "why aren't the villains tearing the place apart looking for this thing?" - a question which my investigative team had never asked. Ooops! And the thing is, once I went back and inserted the question, it had to instill doubt - which is a twisty plotter's reliable right hand. And once knowing who had truly made this thing gave me motives. Every scene is stronger if the participant's motivations are clear.

Now, back to ghost hunting...and now I know what we're going to find!

Making a stronger case - unraveling the spyglass mystery
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Sometimes It Takes a Village

It really chaps me when I hear an aspiring writer say,

I write fantasy because you can make your world be whatever you want. If you write science fiction, you have to learn all that science; if you write a historical or contemporary or mystery, you have to do so much research. Fantasy is so much easier.

Bite your tongue! It's no wonder so many readers (and other writers!) don't take fantasy seriously! So why does this strike me so hard at this point?

This has been a tough week. I am writing the culminating scene of my first arc, where the spooky music [I hope!!] we've been hearing bursts into action and leads us onward. I was delighted when I got the idea to merge this bit of excitement with the idea of a world on the brink of great discoveries--the launch of the Destinne, a ship of exploration. But after enjoying writing several little incidents and encounters that lead us to think Something Terrible Is Going To Happen, I had to actually write the big scene. And instantly, I got into trouble.

First, I woke up Monday morning with the realization that I was going to launch a ship of exploration, but the city where I've been working is in the middle of Sabria! Duh. Well, it does sit on a river. [World-building reminder: cities grow up in places where there are resources. Castles are built where there is something worth defending or someone you need to keep in or keep out.] I did not want to move Merona to the seaside, so I needed to learn something about river ports and ocean-going ships. Most rivers can't support that large a vessel. So count a day for hunting the internet for examples of inland ports - London is a great example. Hmmm...tidal influences on rivers...how far inland?

And then, of course, I needed to know what kind of ship this was. Fortunately a friend had given me a book called The History of Ships. This is a pretty dense little book that tells me a lot more about ships than I really want to know. My characters aren't going to sail on one...or are they? Where will we be as the Destinne sets sail...?

Anyway, I settle on a Portugese caravel as the model of the Destinne. Caravels were the ships most often used in voyages of exploration, as it happens. The Nina and the Pinta were caravels, as were Vasco da Gama's and Bartholomew Diaz's ships--the names take shape out of fourth grade history... But if Portier is going to be an eyewitness to this ship's launch as well as the Events surrounding it, then I need to know what he sees. It is time to call in help.

I am fortunate to know a small group of fellow writers, some published, some un-, who enjoy sharing information and expertise. One of these lovely people happens to have just done a lot of ship research for her own book. And another happens to be an expert on sailing, as well as a history major and Anglophile and avid reader of novels set in the Age of Sail. What is "warping" a ship? What is different about dealing with a river as opposed to a seaport? [Thank you, thank you, Susan and Di.]

And I learn that Elizabethan era river ports are not necessarily what we think of as harbors today, so I go online and find resources that tell me a lot about the history of the port of London. [Oh my gosh, there is so much! You can see maps of the port listing whose wharves were whose or you can read letters from American businessmen in the 1700s who come to London to buy stuff to ship home... Astonishing the resources that are out there!] OK, merchants' wharves exist. And when I need to place my characters somewhere not on the ship of exploration itself, but to watch it go, I start reading about pleasure barges that have been used on the Thames since before Elizabeth's day. Which also tells me something about what kind of river Sabria's River Ley must be - not rough and tumble, but wide and deep and placid.

If fantasy is so easy and needs no research, then how the heck am I going to put my reader vividly at Portier's side as he sees events unfold? And how am I going to devise a magical event to awe and surprise both spectators and readers, while feeling right? For as soon as I get a few nautical details on the page (not too much, even after several days of research, I want only just enough to make it real) I have to figure out the Event itself.

Two days of speculating, theorizing, woodling, rearranging, investigating motives, trolling through a book called Ancient Inventions [Did you know that hand grenades were used during the Crusades or that Aristotle wrote about divers using underwater breathing apparatus?] and the like lead me to the conclusion that I need science first, maybe science that looks like magic. That means I call in my primary scientific consultant, the Spouse. [He is worth an entire series of posts of his own, but let us say that this is a person of wide-ranging interests in all things mechanical, electrical, automotive, anatomical, and scientific - especially the odd.]

I present my problem. I need this under these constraints. I sort of thought maybe something like... An hour's discussion came up with a great way to cause the highly visible attack that I want.

Now it is Saturday and after tweaking the "gathering of all the people scene" yet again, I am ready to warp the Destinne, and unfurl the jib to bring her around, while Portier stands right under the artifact that will threaten to annihilate King Phillipe yet again. And then my broody sorcerer will... No, I'm not telling.

Thanks, everyone. I want my fantasy to feel real and I can't do it without you.

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Layers

I waited a very long time before I began writing because I always thought it was much too complicated. I could not imagine juggling plot, characters, setting, dialogue, motivation, foreshadowing - all those things we know go into a good story. I was fortunate to have a friend who "eased" me into writing by getting me to write letters in character. As I wrote I wasn't thinking of these varied elements, only about writing a letter. So I entered the profession by the back door, so to speak, getting hooked on the storytelling and learning the craft along the way. One of the most important things I've learned about novel writing is the importance of layering. I'm not referring to the layers of complexity in a particular story, but to an aspect of drafting it.


Because of the way I create characters, plot, and world, rather than pushing through to a rough draft as quickly as possible, I try to lay down the story as completely and with as much specific detail as I can as I write. Sometimes I obsess a bit too much over getting the right plants or the right name for "that thing they carry as a reminder of their dead family members," when I ought to insert a pair of empty square brackets and go on, [I do that sometimes] but, in general the method serves me well. Yet inevitably I discover I've described two female characters as round-cheeked, or that I've got to give a date, which means I have to finally decide whether this world without Pope, Roman gods, or Zodiac really uses a Gregorian calendar, or I've described Damoselle Maura as "well contained" emotionally, yet I remember several instances of laughter, brilliant smiles to a stranger, and so forth.

Many writers would advise making a note and plunging ahead, but I prefer to take the time to sweep through and layer these things in. Get rid of "fortnight" as this society is using a ten-month year. Go ahead and name the months. Remove the damoselle's bright laugh and replace with a face that "livens with amusement" which appeals greatly to Portier, whose "mother lived in a constant upheaval of emotion." In this way, I can move forward, dropping in dates, faces, emotions, and cheeks that are "the color of milked tea" without fretting that somewhere excess round cheeks yet lurk.

I'll have many more layers to spread, both in drafting and in revision - layers of clues, of motivations ("oh, NOW I know why he did that, so he would never have revealed his fear to a stranger") of world-building. But I will work them into my Sabrian Veil "vocabulary" as I go. Now, on to the harbor, where the exploration ship, Destinne is to sail this morning, rather than its original launch date of the fifteenth day of Cinq.


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Internet Magic

I'm back from visiting my mom in Texas and buckling down to some actual work on this book. I have a writers retreat in the mountains this weekend, and I hope to make real progress.

I am still mucking with the opening chapter, though I like the way Portier and Ilario are shaping. My rough beginning had Ilario acting too serious and clever - he is a ditzy young lord who carries a luck charm to protect him from crocodiles - and Portier too timid. Portier may be a failure in his chosen profession, but he has been charged with a serious task by his king, and he is smart and determined to make good. (And the king has chosen well!) I also gave these two too much room to get to know each other. Part of the unfolding structure of this book must be my three main characters learning to accommodate one another - or not doing so. Once I got these two guys straightened out in my head, I was faced with a problematical disconnect in the plot.

My opening action has these two new partners approaching a third person, feeling him out to see if he can help in the task the king has set, without revealing anything of the secrets that surround the task. Well, of course it all goes wrong. But the person they approach - a sorcerer - shows Portier something that shakes him. Only this early in the book, I've not laid the groundwork for why what the sorcerer demonstrates should shake him.

So, back up, Carol. How do I lay the groundwork for the structure of magic, the current belief system, its relationship to scientific discovery, etc - all that stuff I worked out week before last? If I do it right, then the reader can feel Portier's wonder when he says,

The green eyes stared at me. Watching. Waiting.
I stared into their fiery depths and felt the entirety of the world crumble.

You see the problem? We have to know what is crumbling before we can feel Portier's astonishment and distress. And this is tough to do so early in the story. So I think I need to stick in another piece.

So far, the king's charge to Portier has been off screen. We don't know what has caused,

the dread that settled in my bowels like Discord’s Worm, gnawing at the heart of the world.

I really don't want to show too much too soon, but if I do and Portier must place this threat within the context of magic, then we'll know what he believes. Thus when I shake him up yet again, we understand.

All of which leads to contrasting magic with science. King Phillipe has called upon someone familiar with magic to solve his mystery. But he embraces science, and gives Portier an example of what he loves - which led me to looking at 17th century scientific breakthroughs - which led me to this online copy of Robert Hooke's Micrographia. To be able to turn the pages of a book published in 1665 on my computer is just wizardly!

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Lines of Demarcation

In Navronne (re: Lighthouse Duet), pureblood magic is a commodity, used by both of the major religious communities. Danae magic is divine or at least an integral part of nature (however nature might have come into being. ) In Ezzaria (re: The Books of the Rai-kirah), religion is an important component of a seamless social/cultural structure, and the crumbling perception of this religion parallels the crumbling structure of Ezzarian society. No matter how I squirm and wriggle (because religious belief and practice always introduce complications) the lines separating magic/religion/supernatural truth/myth/superstition must be drawn in a fantasy world. Yes, even if religion is not a dynamic thread in the story. Why?

My aim is always to make my worlds real enough that readers can lose themselves in the action and interactions of the plot and characters. And at least so far, I haven't imagined a world where humans did not make some attempt to answer the questions - where did I come from? why am I here? who dun it? - and then codify the answers to those questions. While many humans look no farther than themselves to answer the questions, a goodly number of us do. Which means I need to come up with some answers for what people in my created cultures believe and how it fits with the magical structure I'm developing. Has religion co-opted magic? Has magic co-opted faith? Has the divine been proved human, implying that divine truth is yet unknown? [Mmmm, nope, I've used that one <-g->. ]

My musings on the pervasive nature of magic in Sabria and its historically controlling position have merged with my search for the right name for the local deity, leading me in a direction which leaves me with a somewhat uninvolved deity - at least in an ordinary Sabrian's perception. Of course, the truth of that worldview (or heavenview), as well as how the religious establishment has dealt with the magical (and political) establishment remains to be defined. I probably don't need to know this yet. And I'm left with the question of what ordinary people might fall back on in a personal crisis. I step back and look at my premise - the Veil - the region that separates the world of the living from the world of the dead, and it gives me an idea...[Carol scurries off to write this down.] Read more of this post!

Started and ended a war today

I worked mostly on the definition of Sabria's magic today. I had to clarify the differences between the popular perception of magic, the truth of magic, and the new truth of magic that we are going to learn throughout the series. That isn't always easy, especially when I'm trying to avoid the magical structures that I've used in other books. I figure that if I overlap with other books that are out there, that's unfortunate, but it's not intentional. If I overlap with myself, I'm cheating.

Anyway, I needed to understand why the power that drove Sabria's magic was failing, and how sorcerers got in the position where they. . . well, into a fairly ambiguous position in society. On one hand they live under some annoying legal restrictions, yet they have managed to squiggle their fingers into every pie, and now the status quo is changing out from under them. This meant I had to look to Sabria's distant past, and I discovered feudal Europe (not that this is Europe) where the powerful lords holed up in their castles were sorcerers, possessing books listing their family's spells and children who could be used as-- Well, I don't want to reveal spoilers, which could change dramatically over the next year - only process. The result of my musing was the Blood Wars - a century or so of systematic, magic-fueled violence. [Carol rapidly switches back and forth between her "nature of magic section" and "history" section.] The accord which ended this war [must find a name] installed a system which led to the more modern state of Sabria as we know it in the story, as well as laying a foundation for some of the very problems [oh, yes, some of them would be nasty] we will incur. Cool.

But if the perception of magic is such a formative force in Sabrian society, what is its relationship to religion? Oops. This is a topic I have studiously avoided so far, but which can't be ignored in any real society. I think that's tomorrow... Read more of this post!