Dunno how to put it properly into words but lately I find myself thinking more about that particular innocence of fairy tales, for lack of better word. Where a traveller in the middle of a field comes across an old woman with a scythe who is very clearly Death, but he treats her as any other auntie from the village. Or meeting a strange green-skinned man by the lake and sharing your loaf of bread with him when he asks because even though he's clearly not human, your mother's last words before you left home were to be kind to everyone. Where the old man in the forest rewards you for your help with nothing but a dove feather, and when you accept even such a seemingly useless reward with gratitude, on your way home you learn that it's turned to solid gold. Where supernatural beings never harm a person directly and every action against humans is a test of character, and every supernatural punishment is the result of a person bringing on their own demise through their own actions they could have avoided had they changed their ways. Where the hero wins for no other reason than that they were a good person. I don't have the braincells to describe this better right now but I wish modern fairy tales did this more instead of trying to be fantasy action movies.
Listen, I don't even care if this is an original thought. You're telling me, Jefferson can recognize Miles' stickers from his car. You're telling me Jefferson Davis can recognize Miles' art despite there being a million other stickers and pieces of art up around Brooklyn.
...and then Miles-as-Spiderman shows up, in a suit HE PAINTED, and the FIRST scenes where Jefferson sees Miles-as-Spiderman IN THE NEW SUIT are also the first scenes where Jefferson is suddenly on Spiderman's side.
Uh huh. The man knows it's Miles.
One of the things that’s really struck me while rereading the Lord of the Rings–knowing much more about Tolkien than I did the last time I read it–is how individual a story it is.
We tend to think of it as a genre story now, I think–because it’s so good, and so unprecedented, that Tolkien accidentally inspired a whole new fantasy culture, which is kind of hilarious. Wanting to “write like Tolkien,” I think, is generally seen as “writing an Epic Fantasy Universe with invented races and geography and history and languages, world-saving quests and dragons and kings.” But… But…
Here’s the thing. I don’t think those elements are at all what make The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings so good. Because I’m realizing, as I did not realize when I was a kid, that Tolkien didn’t use those elements because they’re somehow inherently better than other things. He used them purely because they were what he liked and what he knew.
The Shire exists because he was an Englishman who partially grew up in, and loved, the British countryside, and Hobbits are born out of his very English, very traditionalist values. Tom Bombadil was one of his kids’ toys that he had already invented stories about and then incorporated into Middle-Earth. He wrote about elves and dwarves because he knew elves and dwarves from the old literature/mythology that he’d made his career. The Rohirrim are an expression of the ancient cultures he studied. There are a half-dozen invented languages in Middle-Earth because he was a linguist. The themes of war and loss and corruption were important to him, and were things he knew intimately, because of the point in history during which he lived; and all the morality of the stories, the grace and humility and hope-in-despair, was an expression of his Catholic faith.
J. R. R. Tolkien created an incredible, beautiful, unparalleled world not specifically by writing about elves and dwarves and linguistics, but by embracing all of his strengths and loves and all the things he best understood, and writing about them with all of his skill and talent. The fact that those things happened to be elves and dwarves and linguistics is what makes Middle-Earth Middle-Earth; but it is not what makes Middle-Earth good.
What makes it good is that every element that went into it was an element J. R. R. Tolkien knew and loved and understood. He brought it out of his scholarship and hobbies and life experience and ideals, and he wrote the story no one else could have written… And did it so well that other people have been trying to write it ever since.
So… I think, if we really want to write like Tolkien (as I do), we shouldn’t specifically be trying to write like linguists, or historical experts, or veterans, or or or… We should try to write like people who’ve gathered all their favorite and most important things together, and are playing with the stuff those things are made of just for the joy of it. We need to write like ourselves.
December 1992. Spock's World was among my favorite novels. I had just turned 19 years old that month. In keeping with the tradition of making holiday cards, that year I drew artwork inspired by a scene in Spock's World, the Star Trek novel by Diane Duane.
No computer. No printer. This was 1992. I drew it in pencil and darkened it with ink. The message was all hand lettered. My dad made copies of the artwork at his office. Each copy was colored by hand with colored pencils and crayons.
The image centers on the IDIC symbol, Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combination, a concept central to Vulcan philosophy. Diane Duane wrote the most beautiful passage in Spock's World that simply explained the meaning of IDIC. I copied the passage for the message inside the card. The IDIC symbol was surrounded by animals, plants, and other organisms representing the biodiversity of Earth.
The passage from Spock's World was from a scene where Surak was in the desert and saw the giant sandworm-like creature, referred to as the Underlier (called A'kweth or Tcha'besheh). Both beings paused and beheld one another, the Underlier and the Vulcan, in the vast desert under the light of T'Khut (called The Watcher), Vulcan's sister planet.
"How delightful to be so different from something. No need to understand them, particularly; that might come with time and would be an added delight. But it was enough to accept their difference, to celebrate just that without anything added. Creation, in itself, was joy, the difference was joy, the celebration of it was joy."
Front of card. Star Trek inspired greeting card artwork. Based on the novel Spock's World. Image features the Vulcan IDIC symbol and cartoon drawings of animals representing diversity. Created in 1992.
Inside of card. Star Trek inspired greeting card artwork. Based on the novel Spock's World. Image features a quotation from the novel representing diversity and the IDIC philosophy. Created in 1992.
Front and back of card. Star Trek inspired greeting card artwork. Based on the novel Spock's World. Image features the Vulcan IDIC symbol and cartoon drawings of animals representing diversity. Created in 1992. (Copyright Myers Cards 1992.)
The passage in the novel continued:
"There was nothing that could stand against that joy: sooner or later it would triumph. All evil, all death, was a tiny, fretting, posturing thing that knew its own defeat was coming, and it might rage and destroy as it liked. It was doomed. Celebration would win, was winning, had won now. Everything was one moment, and the moment was nothing but triumph and joy."
This resonated with my 18/19 year old self. This still resonates with me today. Oh, my heart! I cry for joy! Such beautiful ideas and words to live by!
Regretfully, I didn't credit the author on the card at the time. I assumed friends and family wouldn't care. It was yet another weird, cheap, homemade holiday card from their weirdo sister / niece / daughter / student / friend.
I hope you enjoy the amateur artwork and Diane Duane's message. Enjoy the diversity and differences. Embrace and embody IDIC.
Thank you, @dduane.
Peace and long life,
Amy
This is lovely advice.
In another life, I think I would have really liked just having tea parties and telling stories with you <3
Has anybody else noticed that it seems that nobody tells children fairytales anymore? It seems that they only read them books or have them watch movies; oral storytelling appears to have vanished. Perhaps it’s just in my area, but it has quite literally been years since my friends, family, and I have met a child who has even referenced a fairytale character that didn’t appear in a Disney movie.
Never have I felt so much like a protagonist
your protagonist doesn’t need to save the world. maybe they just need to save their plant collection, one dying ficus at a time.
favourite things about first drafts:
square brackets with notes to self mid-line like [does this make sense with worldbuilding?]
ah yes, Main Character and their closest friends, Unnamed Character A and Unnamed Character B.
bullshitting your way through something that you probably definitely need to research later
also square brackets to link up scenes. [scene transition idk] my beloved
the total freedom of word vomits
"I'll fix that later"
the moment when the world and characters start to gain a life of their own
pieces falling into place as you write that you were uncertain about before you started
the accomplishment of Made A Thing
Writing about a child rapist did not make Vladimir Nabokov a child rapist.
Writing about an authoritarian theocracy did not make Margaret Atwood an authoritarian theocrat.
Writing about adultery did not make Leo Tolstoy an adulterer.
Writing about a ghost did not make Toni Morrison a ghost.
Writing about a murderer did not make Fyodor Dostoevsky a murderer.
Writing about a teenage addict did not make Isabel Allende a teenage addict.
Writing about dragons and ice zombies did not make George R.R. Martin either of those things.
Writing about rich heiresses, socially awkward bachelors, and cougar widows did not make Jane Austen any of those things.
Writing about people who can control earthquakes did not make N.K. Jemisin able to control earthquakes.
Writing about your favorite characters and/or ships in situations that you choose does not make you a bad person.
It’s a shame that in this day and age these things need to be said.
“Use your gifts and your talents to greatest possible effect while you can. Spread joy wherever possible. Laugh at jokes. Tell jokes. Make puns and bugger the embuggerances. Read books. Read my books. You might like them. You might find something else you like even more than them. Look for these things in life.
Question authority. Champion good causes. Speak out against injustice. Do not tolerate bullies or bigots or racists or anti-intellectuals or the narrow-minded. Use your education to challenge them. Broaden their perspectives. Make the world you interface with a happier place.
These are your choices. Choices you have been fortunate to have been given, so don’t waste them while you have them. Don’t look back in years to come and wish you had grasped a fleeting opportunity. Grasp it now with both hands, Live. Strive. Love.”
from A Little Advice for Life taken from ‘Terry Pratchett: from birth to death, a writer.’
—Sir Terry Pratchett; April 28, 1948 – March 12, 2015
One of the greatest compliments I've ever received is that I resemble Sam Vimes.
Mind how you go.