Heroines of Fantasy

A Fantasy Reader's Demands

2012-02-27T05:55:00.021-08:00

Up on Heroines of Fantasy this week, our first male blogger for the spring! Peadar Ó Guilín is a writer of YA fiction out of Dublin, Ireland. His first book, The Inferior ranked among the very best books I read in 2010. It is available in the US. His second book, The Deserter, will be available in the US on March 12th! For more information on Peadar and his work, click on the name-ticky up there. Unless the Nork has incapacitated him again, he'd love to hear from you.

Dear Fantasy Writers,

I'm a writer too and what I want, is to be remembered. Oh, I'm not talking about eternity here. What I mean, is that five minutes after you have finished reading one of my stories, you'll still be able to tell a perfect stranger what it was about.

A humble ambition, you might think, except I suspect that like me, you have wasted far too much time being mildly entertained instead of thrilled.

People read our work for different reasons: some like wizards; some *want* to be wizards, or thieves or dragons. There are fantasy fans who dream of escape to what they imagine were simpler times, when people had purer motives and better dance moves.

But for me, the true power of the genre lies in its name.

Fantasy means "imagination". It is creativity gone wild, or rather, that's what it should be. As a reader, I enjoy the tropes, but deep inside, there's a part of me that yearns to be astounded. I long to use the word "marvel" again and again in superhero-free sentences.

Science Fiction writers do this to me all the time, or they aspire to it anyway and it blows my mind that so many fantasy writers are content to let their genre cousins steal this crown right from under their noses.

But there's profit in old rope, isn't there? Perhaps it's no accident that SF sales keep shrinking, their shelf space collapsing before a never-ending stream of dragon-this or dragon-that.

Which is not to say I have anything against dragons! Or any other trope you might name. The important thing, for me, Peadar the Reader, is that when you use tropes, you twist them so hard that my lazy eye finally uncrosses; that I forget to go to the bathroom until I embarrass myself; that my coffee goes cold in the flask. That's all I want. Something new. Something amazing.

Oh, I'll still visit ye olde medieval kingdoms from time to time, like so many branches of McDonalds, because, well, when I'm hungry, I'll plug the gap with whatever comes to hand and... and Good for you! McDonald's do great business and not everybody can blow minds with every steaming plate that comes out of their kitchen.

But I want you to try. I insist on it. This is my demand and it is non-negotiable.

Or maybe you'd prefer for me to forget you while I'm still reading your book?

What's the Weather Like?

2012-02-20T00:01:00.000-08:00

Hurricane and Sun by Alexis Rockman, 2006

Perhaps it’s because I’ve lived the majority of my life in sunny, moderate climates without significant weather changes, but any kind of weather—particularly in the extremes—makes me cranky. I detest snow. It may look pretty, all white, fluffy and innocent on the ground, but I’m not fooled. Snow is cold, wet, icy, and like to make one utterly miserable once it crusts up and turns to ice and sludge. When it gets dirty, snow just looks tawdry and sad, like a hooker past her prime. And it sneaks up on you. I switched colleges simply because I could no longer tolerate the invisible black ice that coated the walkways and forced me to slide to my classes on my ass.

Don’t get me started on rain, either. A light mist frizzes my hair and makes me sticky; a downpour, as far as I’m concerned, is a fantastic reason to close schools and businesses and stay off the road, because nobody can drive in it anyway. High winds? Annoying, and there always seems to be one blowing on a rare good hair day. Excessive heat? Just fine, as long as I can stay indoors with the A/C. Bitter cold (in Southern California, what I call any temp below 60 degrees)? Give me a blanket, preferably heated, a fire, up the heater to at least 70, and pour me a hot chocolate. Earthquakes I can handle; weather, of all but the pleasant, sunny-with-a-slight-breeze sort, I can’t.

Given my general attitude weather as a necessary evil, it’s no wonder that I tend to notice the weather (or lack thereof) in both the books I read and what I write. And what I’ve found is that weather, in fantasy, seems to fall into one of three basic categories:

1) Weather is present to characterize a place.

2) Weather sets a mood.

3) Weather is there to make the characters

really uncomfortable.

Most authors who incorporate weather usually touch on at least one of the three. On Anne McCaffrey’s Pern, dragons battle the thread that falls from the sky and burns like acid. In my books, I tend to throw a rain or snow storm at my characters whenever I either want to make them miserable or slow them down. George R. R. Martin probably makes the most effective use of weather, utilizing it for all three of the above purposes. From the outset of Game of Thrones, the Stark words winter is coming prove foreboding and foreshadowing in a myriad of ways. The winter is both an actual turning of the seasons and an indicator of trouble to come. In contrast, the sunny, humid south feels just as unpleasant as the constant snows of the north. I love how Eddard Stark is constantly changing his sweaty tunic for a fresh one. He can’t stand the heat any more than some of the other characters can withstand his frozen north. The weather impacts the characters emotionally and physically, and sets a tone for the series.

Fishermen upon a Lee Shore, in Squally Weather
by Joseph Mallord William

I have noticed, though, that Martin is singular in his use of weather. Many of the novels I have read in the past year don’t really seem to have weather at all, particularly the YA dystopian novels I tend to favor of late. Their characters must all live here in SoCal, where the occasional mild rain inspires the annual “StormWatch: 2012” and nobody seems able to drive the freeways safely. Even though I’m generally pro-sun, the absence of weather in fiction bothers me. It makes the worldbuilding less vivid, less realistic. Because let’s face it: love it or hate it, weather happens. And weather, as we have learned from the tragedies of the tsunami in Thailand and Hurricane Katrina, can be one of the most destructive forces on earth. The wind alone can shape canyons over time, crumble ships like bath toys, level cities and decimate populations.

So tell me: what’s the weather like in the books you’re reading or writing these days? How is weather used (or not)? Does it enhance or detract from the plot and worldbuilding of the novel? What are some of your favorite uses of weather in fiction?

Heroes in Love

2012-02-13T06:00:00.000-08:00

In the film Agora, Orestes of Alexandria loves the mathematician
and philosopher Hypatia. Orestes is a worthy hero, but he will
not win Hypatia's heart. Nor will he save her life.

This week on Heroines of Fantasy, we’re going to talk about heroes.

Now, don’t worry – the heroines won’t be left out of this discussion. They can't be. After all, in matters of love it takes two to tango. (Or three, or more, if you and/or your characters are living the Chinese curse of having an interesting life…) So when we talk about how our heroes love, we must at least make reference to the heroines who have captured their hearts.

It’s a common complaint that female characters in fantasy have historically been confined to the role of Romantic Interest for the Hero. She waits on the sidleines while he proves his worth, and her everlasting love will be his reward when all the manly adventures are over and done. Scenarios like this one have rankled readers -- especially women readers – because they so often undermine the potential of female characters to reflect the true complexity of real-life women.

I am of a mind that clichés like this not only shortchange our heroines, they also shortchange our heroes. By giving the heroes of fantasy an inordinately simple path to romantic fulfillment, we impoverish their characters, allowing them to escape the true complexity of real-life men.

Now, maybe this is what many are looking for in fantasy. There’s probably more than one person out there who has finished that engaging book, or gone home (or to the bar) after that entertaining movie, and thought, “Wow. If only the rules were that straightforward. Slay the kraken; win the girl. Now that’s a world I wouldn’t mind living in…”

Whether or not your taste is for uncomplicated love in the context of fantasy, I’m going to ask you to indulge me this week and talk about male characters who experience the reality of love in our fictitious worlds.

Tyrion Lannister, by Rafal Hrynkiewicz

To get the discussion started, I’ll put someone forward that not everyone would expect to find in the romantic hero pile: Tyrion Lannister, from George RR Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire. Tyrion can be devious and cruel. He is bookish and ugly. (Ugly in the novels, not in the HBO series.) No one expects him to ride to the rescue in a suit of shining armor. Yet he is in his heart of hearts a romantic. He has a well-hidden soft spot when it comes to women, and a great need to experience love. We see this in his relationship with Shae; we hear about it in the bitter memories of his ill-fated marriage to Tysha. The discord between Tyrion’s romantic inclinations and the reality in which he lives is a source of constant tension; and it is one of the many threads that makes Westeros feel like a real place in history.

There’s my example. Now it’s your turn. Talk to me about heroes in love. Real love, in all its beauty and cruelty, with all its nuances, inconveniences, uncertainties and confusions. Who are these heroes? How have they loved? Who have they loved? Did they get the woman in the end? (If it was ‘real’, they probably did not. But I’d like to know…unless, of course, the reveal would involve too many spoilers.)

And here's something else to think about as the discussion moves along: As we break boundaries in the ways our female characters live, are we also breaking boundaries in the ways that our male characters love?

I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

Posted by Karin Rita Gastreich

A Tale of True Love for Valentine's Day

2012-02-06T06:00:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day. How the heck did a defiant priest become the basis for a holiday of lovers, celebrated with hearts and candy and engagement rings? There are many, many legends. My favorite claims that Valentine was jailed because he defied Emperor Claudius by marrying young men and women against the law--a law that said no young men were allowed to marry (in an attempt to boost numbers in his army.) On the eve of his execution, Valentine wrote "the first Valentine" to his beloved, his jailer's daughter (whom some legends claim was healed of her blindness by the saint) signing it, from your Valentine.

As that story goes, and all stories of Valentine, the man was executed and thereby martyred, attaining eventual sainthood. I don't like that ending. Not at all. Therefore, in Heroines of Fantasy tradition, we're going to turn things around a little and make it our own. Using this picture and the basic Valentine legend above, let's rewrite the story, and this time let Valentine LIVE!

Same rules as last time: FIVE LINES ONLY! No cheating. Please do not be offensive. Sex and/or violence is allowed, but please don't get too graphic. Posting ends midnight on Saturday, February 11th. I'll conclude with the last five lines, and post the whole collective story on Sunday, February 12th.

And so it begins: the story of a boy and a girl, and love unattainable; at least, that is what their kin wanted them to believe. Her name was Adalaide, a maid small and slight even for her kind. He was Valentine, his temper wicked even for his. They met in the wood. They fell in love; and turned the world upside down.

Now it's your turn...

The Vilification of Wool

2012-01-30T06:12:00.000-08:00

If you would be so kind as to indulge me, I'd like to take a moment to introduce Jodi Meadows, our guest blogger this week. I've been following Jodi's blog for a long time. I watched her transition from slush reader to full-time writer, to published author. It has been an exciting experience, even from the sidelines. I'm not just a fan of her writing, I'm a fan of HER. But I promised not to embarrass her, so I'll let it go there.

Jodi's first novel (of a trilogy), Incarnate releases out into the world tomorrow, January 31.

Ana is new. For thousands of years in Range, a million souls have been reincarnated over and over, keeping their memories and experiences from previous lifetimes. When Ana was born, another soul vanished, and no one knows why...

Newberry Award Winner, Robin McKinley says: "Incarnate has an eerie and intriguing premise..."

New York Times bestselling author, Rachel Hawkins called it, "...lyrical and thought-provoking...the kind of book that stays with you long after you've turned the last page."

Award-winning author of the Shade trilogy, Jeri Smith-Ready called it, "...breathtaking, heart-melting, soul-feeding, mind-blowing..."

And not only is Jodi an amazing storyteller, but she's mistress of all things knitted and wool, and quite committed to the medium, as her guest post will attest. Enjoy!

****
The vilification of wool in fiction must be stopped.

Bold statement, I know, but how many times have you read about a character pulling out a "rough woolen blanket" or wearing "scratchy woolen clothes?"

My friends, this must stop. Yes, there is scratchy wool, but why wear it when there's so much snuggly soft wool available? Why force carpet wool (it's a thing!) on characters you already mistreat for the sake of plot?

As I write this post, I have within reach no fewer than ten woolen objects -- and none of them are scratchy or rough. Several pair of fingerless mitts knit out of Merino wool, a few knit out of BFL wool, one pair knit from Falkland wool. Let's not forget the Merino and silk hat I'm wearing, or the Corriedale wool I have on a spindle.

Of those, the Corriedale is probably the roughest, but it's still soft enough to use for socks or perhaps a hat if one doesn't have a sensitive head.

Let's do away with adjectives like "rough" and "scratchy" for wool. Some wools certainly are rough and scratchy, but if you want to hurt your characters with wool, why not ruin their favorite pair of mittens? (Doable in a variety of ways, from felting them in the washing machine to the terrible death of wool moths.)

Instead, let's embrace adjectives like "smooth" and "soft" and "warm." Heck, even "squishy" and "snuggly." All these words apply to many breeds of wool.

And did you know that wool is flame-retardant? Indeed, while wool will catch fire, it does not stay on fire. Flames quickly go out.

Another thing: wool is one of the only fibers you want to keep wearing if you fall into a freezing lake and have no change of clothes. (A real danger in fantasyland!) With most other fibers, like cotton or nylon, you're better off being naked. Can you believe it? NAKED. But wool -- wool is warm even when it's wet. Wool will save your life.

Fantasy and YA books often have messages of tolerance. What makes wool any less deserving of that message, especially considering its many virtues?

This is a real issue, my friends. Let's do something to correct it. I've tried to do my part in my debut YA fantasy/dystopian INCARNATE. The protagonist wears as much wool as possible, including mittens, hats, scarves, socks, shirts, and even pants. (But not underpants, because some things are just wrong.) Wool is a comforting.

I challenge you to do the same in your fiction. Let's stop the vilification of wool.

Jodie Meadows lives and writes in the Shenandoah Valley, Virginia, with her husband, a Kippy*, and an alarming number of ferrets. She is a confessed book addict and has wanted to be a writer ever since she decided against becoming an astronaut. Her debut YA fantasy/dystopian is Incarnate, coming January 31 from HarperCollins/Katherine Tegen. Order on IndieBound! Incarnate, by Jodi Meadows

*Kippy is a cat along the line of Crookshanks or the Cheshire Cat--a character in her own right, and often one who steals the show.

A Plague on Both Your Houses: A Guest Blog by Athena Andreadis

2012-01-23T10:23:00.000-08:00

Don’t you know
They’re talkin’ ’bout a revolution
– Tracy Chapman

In James Tiptree’s "Houston, Houston, Do You Read?" three male astronauts are thrown forward in time and return to an earth in which an epidemic has led to the extinction of men. They perceive a society that needs firm (male) guidance to restore correct order and linear progress. In fact, the society is a benevolent non-coercive non-hierarchical anarchy with adequate and stable resources; genetic engineering and cloning are advanced, spaceships are a given, there’s an inhabited Lunar base and multiple successful expeditions to Venus and Mars. One of the men plans to bring the women back under god’s command (with him as proxy) by applying Pauline precepts. Another plans to rut endlessly in a different kind of paradise. The women, after giving them a long rope, decide they won’t resurrect the XY genotype.

The skirmish in the ongoing war about contemporary fantasy between Leo Grin and Joe Abercrombie reminds me of Tiptree’s story. Grin and Abercrombie argued over fantasy as art, social construct and moral fable totally oblivious to the relevant achievements of half of humanity – closer to ninety percent, actually, when you take into account the settings of the works they discussed. No non-male non-white non-Anglosaxon fantasy writers were mentioned in their exchanges and in almost all of the reactions to their posts (I found only two partial exceptions).

I expected this from Grin. After all, he wrote his essay under the auspices of Teabagger falsehood-as-fact generator Andrew Breitbart. His “argument” can be distilled to “The debasement of heroic fantasy is a plot of college-educated liberals!” On the other hand, Abercrombie’s “liberalism” reminds me of the sixties free-love dictum that said “Women can assume all positions as long as they’re prone.” The Grin camp (henceforth Fathers) conflates morality with religiosity and hearkens nostalgically back to Tolkien who essentially retold Christian and Norse myths, even if he did it well. The Abercrombie camp (henceforth Sons) equates grittiness with grottiness and channels Howard – incidentally, a basic error by Grin who put Tolkien and Howard in the same category in his haste to shoehorn all of today’s fantasy into the “decadent” slot. In fact, Abercrombie et al. are Howard’s direct intellectual descendants, although Grin’s two idols were equally reactionary in class-specific ways. Fathers and Sons are nevertheless united in celebrating “manly” men along the lines demarcated by Tiptree.

As I’ve said elsewhere, I enjoy playing RPGs in many guises. But even for games – let alone for reading – I prefer constructs that are nuanced and, equally importantly, worlds in which I can see myself living and working. Both camps write stories set in medieval worlds whose protagonists are essentially Anglosaxon white men with a soupçon of Norse or Celt to spice the bland gruel. To name just a few examples, this is true of Tolkien’s Middle Earth, Howard’s Conan stories, Moorcock’s Elric saga, Leiber’s Fafhrd series, Jordan’s Wheel of Time toe-bruisers, Martin’s fast-diminishing-returns Fire and Ice cycle. The sole difference is approach, which gets mistaken for outlook. If I may use po-mo terms, the Fathers represent constipation, the Sons diarrhea; Fathers the sacred, Sons the profane – in strictly masculinist terms. In either universe, women are deemed polluting (that is, distracting from bromances) or furniture items. The fact that even male directors of crowd-pleasers have managed to create powerful female heroes, from Jackson’s Éowyn to Xena (let alone the women in wuxia films), highlight the tame and regressive nature of “daring” male-written fantasy.

Under the cover of high-mindedness, the Fathers posit that worthy fantasy must obey the principles of abrahamic religions: a rigid, stratified society where everyone knows their place, the color of one’s skin determines degree of goodness, governments are autocratic and there is a Manichean division between good and evil: the way of the dog, a pyramidal construct where only alpha males fare well and are considered fully human. The Sons, under the cover of subversive (if only!) deconstruction, posit worlds that embody the principles of a specific subset of pagan religions: a society permanently riven by discord and random cruelty but whose value determinants still come from hierarchical thinking of the feudal variety: the way of the baboon, another (repeat after me) pyramidal construct where only alpha males fare well and are considered fully human. Both follow Campbell’s impoverished, pseudo-erudite concepts of the hero’s quest: the former group accepts them, the latter rejects them but only as the younger son who wants the perks of the first-born. Both think squarely within a very narrow box.

Other participants in this debate already pointed out that Tolkien is a pessimist and Howard a nihilist, that outstanding earlier writers wrote amoral works (Dunsany was mentioned; I’d add Peake and Donaldson) and that the myths which form the base of most fantasy are riddled with grisly violence. In other words, it looks like Grin at least hasn’t read many primary sources and both his knowledge and his logic are terminally fuzzy, as are those of his supporters.

A prominent example was the accusation from one of Grin’s acolytes that contemporary fantasy is obsessed with balance which is “foreign to the Western temperament” (instead of, you know, ever thrusting forward). He explicitly conflated Western civilization with European Christendom, which should automatically disqualify him from serious consideration. Nevertheless, I will point out that pagan Hellenism is as much a cornerstone of Western civilization as Christianity, and Hellenes prized balance. The concept of “Midhén ághan” (nothing in excess) was crucial in Hellenes’ self-definition: they watered their wine, ate abstemiously, deemed body and mind equally important and considered unbridled appetites and passions detriments to living the examined life. At the same time, they did not consider themselves sinful and imperfect in the Christian sense, although Hellenic myths carry strong strains of defiance (Prometheus) and melancholy (their afterworld, for one).

Frankly, the Grin-Abercrombie fracas reminds me of a scene in Willow. At the climax of the film, while the men are hacking at each other down at the courtyard, the women are up at the tower hurling thunderbolts. By the time the men come into the castle, the battle has been waged and won by women’s magic.

So enough already about Fathers and Sons in their temples and potties. Let’s spend our time more usefully and pleasantly discussing the third member of the trinity. Before she got neutered, her name was Sophia (Wisdom) or Shekinah (Presence). Let’s celebrate some people who truly changed fantasy – to its everlasting gain, as is the case with SF.

My list will be very partial and restricted to authors writing in English and whose works I’ve read, which shows we are dealing with an embarrassment of riches. I can think of countless women who have written paradigm-shifting heroic fantasy, starting with Emily Brontë who wrote about a world of women heroes in those tiny hand-sewn diaries. Then came trailblazers Catherine Moore, Mary Stewart and André Norton. Ursula Le Guin’s Earthsea is another gamechanger (although her gender-specific magic is problematic, as I discussed in Crossed Genres) and so is her ongoing Western Shores series. Katherine Kurtz’s Deryni cycle is as fine a medieval magic saga as any. We have weavers of new myths: Jane Yolen, Patricia McKillip, Meredith Ann Pierce, Alma Alexander; and tellers of old myths from fresh perspectives: Tanith Lee, Diana Paxson, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Terri Windling, Emma Bull, C. J. Cherryh, Christine Lucas.

Then there’s Elizabeth Lynn, with her Chronicles of Tornor and riveting Ryoka stories. Marie Jakober, whose Even the Stones have haunted me ever since I read it. Elizabeth Marshall Thomas, whose heroic prehistoric fantasies have never been bested. Jacqueline Carey, who re-imagined the Renaissance from Eire to Nubia and made a courtesan into a swashbuckler in the first Kushiel trilogy, showing a truly pagan universe in the bargain. This without getting into genre-cracking mythmakers like Isak Dinesen (Karen Blixen) and Louise Erdrich.

These authors share several attributes: they have formidable writing skills and honor their sources even as they transmute them. Most importantly, they break the tired old tropes and conventional boundaries of heroic fantasy and unveil truly new vistas. They venture past medieval settings, hierarchical societies, monotheistic religions, rigid moralities, “edgy” gore, Tin John chest beatings, and show us how rich and exciting fantasy can become when it stops being timid and recycling stale recipes. As one of the women in Tiptree’s “Houston, Houston” says: “We sing a lot. Adventure songs, work songs, mothering songs, mood songs, trouble songs, joke songs, love songs – everything.”

Everything.

Athena Andreadis brief bio

Athena Andreadis was born in Greece and lured to the US at age 18 by a full scholarship to Harvard, then MIT. She does basic research in molecular neurobiology, focusing on mechanisms of mental retardation and dementia. She is an avid reader in four languages across genres, the author of To Seek Out New Life: The Biology of Star Trek and writes speculative fiction and non-fiction on a wide swath of topics. Her work can be found in Harvard Review, Belles Lettres, After Hours, Strange Horizons, Crossed Genres, Stone Telling, Cabinet des Fées, Bull Spec, Science in My Fiction, SF Signal, The Apex Blog, World SF, The SFF Portal, H+ Magazine, io9, The Huffington Post, and her own site, Starship Reckless.

Images: Éowyn, shieldmaiden of Rohan (Miranda Otto) in The Two Towers; Sonja, vampire paladin (Rhona Mitra) in Rise of the Lycans; Yu Shu Lien, Wudan warrior (Michelle Yeoh) in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

A Fantasy for All Seasons

2012-01-16T00:01:00.000-08:00

My birthday was last Thursday and, as this annual occurrence is timed so nicely with the new year, I am yet again presented with the opportunity to wax nostalgic. That, combined with our first Monday’s discussion about C.S. Lewis’s Narnia books, has started me thinking about how fantasy shapes the seasons of our lives.

I must have ordered the Narnia books off of the Scholastic book flyer, because the whole set came to me at once, in all of their new-book-smell and glossy-cover glory. In those days, The Magician’s Nephew was still last of the set, not first, and I had not a single clue about the Christian allegory. My favorites, for no explicable reason, were The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and The Silver Chair. My gateway drug to fantasy, they introduced me to new worlds and places I could only imagine; I thirsted for more.

Then, in fifth grade, I made an amazing discovery in my elementary school library: Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonsinger. Once I realized that my mom had all McCaffrey’s books on our bookshelf at home, I read every novel of hers I could find. Then I moved to the other books on my mom’s bookshelf, which was chock full of fantasy.

If I hadn’t been a fantasy reader by then, eighth grade would have sealed the deal. My English teacher assigned T.H. White’s The Once and Future King, and a deep and abiding love of all things Arthur nestled deep in my soul, right next to the dragons. I read other Arthur books, too, a few of which I’ve searched for ever since. I discovered David Eddings, one of my all-time favorites, and the out-of-print “Tredana Trilogy” by Joyce Ballou Gregorian, which I am afraid to re-read. From then on, knights, wizards, gods, magic, and the ideal of a better world captured and held my imagination.

Fantasy became my dirty little secret during high school and college. I was not going to be a geek, so to the general public I was a wholesome, outgoing, all-American teenager. Who knew that I played Warhammer in the back room of my friend’s house and wrote Pern fanfic for Star-Rise Weyr? And NOBODY knew that I would occasionally pick at that old story I’d started during middle school. That was for me alone.

Of course, my secrecy only lasted a few years. During a Medieval Literature class in college, I had an epiphany: I could read King Arthur myths in college? I felt like I was getting away with some elaborate scheme. I was going to study the very roots of modern fantasy, and the University was going to give me a college degree in exchange! My scheme persisted through my M.A. in Medieval Literature and cemented my fate. Not only could I now read and discuss fantasy, I could pick at the author’s historical accuracy. And eventually, when I was ready, I discovered The Lord of the Rings, and appreciated all of the complexities and subtleties of Tolkien’s amazing world.

Fantasy has formed a significant portion of my personality and worldview. I no longer care that I’m a fantasy geek—which is ironic, because becoming a geek is so much more cool and mainstream. The benefits of reading fantasy have far outweighed any drawbacks to my social life or character: I have a rich imagination, a strong vocabulary, and the ability to appreciate political, religious and social systems completely foreign from my own. I appreciate people of all different races, cultures and ethnic backgrounds, and my mind is open to new possibilities, both in fiction and in life. I believe I am a better person, more open-minded and less prone to a black-and-white worldview because of fantasy.

I did try to reread the Narnia books a couple of years ago, and found them thin in plot and character, overbearing in religious message. It made me sad to have my sense of wonder stripped away, and I wish now I hadn’t reread them, that I could always hold them in my heart with the same charm they once held for me. Still, I will never forget how they shaped me on this journey to become the reader and writer I am today.

Looking ahead, I expect I will find new fantasies that engage me as an adult. Eight years ago I tried Game of Thrones and felt it too dark; now I watch the series and see not only the darkness, but the varied shades of grey. Life changes me, changes not only what I want to read, but what I need to read. And what I read, in turn, changes me.

Now here is my question for you: how has fantasy shaped you as a reader, and as a person? And how has your taste for fantasy changed with the seasons of life?

The Essential Face of Fantasy

2012-01-09T06:15:00.000-08:00

In his essay ‘On Fairy Stories’, J.R.R. Tolkien describes magic -- more precisely, “the Magical” – as “the essential face of Faerie".

As a genre, fantasy has multiple expressions: dark, humorous, violent, romantic, children’s, YA, adult, urban, epic…the list goes on and on. Yet the common denominator for all these expressions is the presence of magic.

Writers of fantasy struggle at great length to build systems of magic unique to their worlds. Readers respond to magic with a critical eye, seeking sorcery that “makes sense”, at least on an instinctive level, and – most importantly – that does not simply function to save the day at the end of our heroine’s journey.

This week I’d like to share some of my thoughts about magic; ideas that have come together as a result of crafting Eolyn, and that continue to evolve as part of my journey with fantasy.

Let's start with:

Magic does not have “rules”, but rather is constrained by rules imposed on it.

Arguably a semantic consideration, but it’s very difficult for me to think in terms of “the rules of magic”, because in my mind, the whole point of magic is that it breaks the rules. Magic acts in ways that defy explanation, most often with respect to the known laws of science.

Nonetheless, effective story telling depends on magic having limits. Certain things can and cannot be done by the wizards, witches, mages and magas of our worlds. I’ve come to think of these boundaries not so much as an inherent property of magic, but as constraints that result from the imperfect knowledge, imagination and/or abilities of practitioners. Which brings me to my next thought:

The practice of magic should have cultural foundations.

Similar to what we talked about with respect to religion in fantasy last week, for me the most convincing systems of magic are thoroughly embedded in their respective cultures. The practice of magic has a past, present and future. Magical knowledge can evolve, undergo innovation, and be lost.

It is in this context that “the rules of magic” make the most sense to me. A society’s structure, history and current state of knowledge can determine what kind of magic is practiced by its members. In this way, magic never reaches its full potential because every culture has an imperfect understanding of that potential, and therefore a limited ability to achieve it.

So for example, in an imaginary world we could have one society with warlocks who practice shape shifting but do not engage in divination. A neighboring land might have witches who see the future and read minds, but are inept when it comes to assuming the form of other animals. For me, these differences are most convincing if they exist for reasons grounded in history and culture.

Magic is not the same as science.

Science can inform systems of magic, and it has become popular in recent years to recur to science for explanations of our magic. There are some very clever examples of this, one being the application of the law of conservation of mass to the problem of shape shifting.

It is really up to the author how much of a given magical system can be explained (or constrained) using our current understanding of the natural world. In Eolyn’s world, there is a whole class of magic, Middle Magic, that is essentially an antiquated version of ecology, botany, natural history and medicine.

Yet, however tempting and useful it is to occasionally explain magic through natural laws, sooner or later we need to let magic be magic, and allow it to transcend the framework of science.

Which brings me to my last thought for today:

Magic at its heart is not logical.

I’ve noticed that we writers like to dig into magical systems, ours and those of others. We dissect them and try to make sure every piece fits back together neatly. This is a good, solid practice that helps us build cohesive worlds, but there’s one irony in the process. If magic is truly at work, sooner or later, no matter how water-tight “the rules” are, you’ll come across something that does not make sense.

The best part of this is, if everything else is done right, that one illogical piece is never a weakness of the system; the illogical piece is what defines it as magic.

Now, it’s your turn…

Talk to me about magic: systems of magic that appealed to you, uses of magic that put you off, spells that you thought were totally cool and would like to be able to do in real life.

Also, what do you think the role of “rules” should be in magic? Does science have a place in explaining magic? Is magic “the essential face” of fantasy?

As an aside, while selecting images for this post, out of curiosity I did a google search for "the face of fantasy". Google kicked back oodles of portraits of beautiful women, a handful of demonic-looking men (which I found rather curious), and. . .George R.R. Martin. An essential face of fantasy, indeed.

Posted by Karin Rita Gastreich

Of Gods and Prophecy

2012-01-02T06:24:00.000-08:00

Fantasy and religion just go together. Whether we, as readers or writers, claim spiritual faith or a decided lack thereof, there's no getting around the fact that fantasy fiction often relies heavily upon some form of religion. (David Eddings, The Belgariad and The Mallorean come quickly to mind.)
Magical systems are often religion-based. Gods are invoked, sacrificed to, avoided at all costs and petitioned to for aid. In Finder, the "ornery desert gods" are often called upon as a curse, but there is little in the way of gods or religion in that book. Still, they are there if only implied. In A Time Never Lived, gods play a huge role in the story. The first book didn't need gods; the second book did. That's just the way it rolled. And it made me wonder...

It is interesting to me, more as a reader than a writer, to realize how I respond to religion in novels. I expect it. I enjoy it. It gives depth to the culture/s and thus the worldbuilding. I look for the parallels to "Earth" world religions, and enjoy a good dose of Norse or Celtic, African or Native American etc, lore--as long as it doesn't get too close. Once it does, it becomes preaching. It breaks that "fourth wall" as they say in theater. It's author intrusion when an author's views become so blatantly clear, and, for me, totally blows the story. (And now Philip Pulman's His Dark Materials comes to mind!)

I started wondering how others feel about this, if they think of it at all. For example--much as I loved the Narnia books as a kid, once I figured out all the Christian allegory--ugh--might as well have put worms and goop and other icky things inside for all I'd want to open them again. I'll admit--I'm agnostic on the best of days, but it's really not about being anti-religion. I love CS Lewis' The Screwtape Letters, as well, Till We Have Faces. Both of these by a super-religious writer, writing super-religious themes; so why did Narnia bug the crap out of me while the others didn't?

I have a theory--because with the latter two books, I went in knowing what they were. With Narnia, I was duped!

Anyway, before I go on and on about Lewis* and all he tried (and mostly succeeded) to do with is writing, I ask you--how do you feel about gods and religion in fiction? Does fantasy fiction need them to be authentic? Does it bother you because you are a religious person, and the notion of any other god than yours unsettles you? Do you prefer a magic system that doesn't rely on a divine presence? What books? Tell me! I'm a curious oyster by nature, and once I get to wondering, it hurts my brain until I have answers.
*I happen to LOVE CS Lewis, as a writer and also, from what I've learned, as a person. I think Jack and I would have been great friends!

Sleeping Beauties

2011-12-26T08:14:00.000-08:00

I've found out over the Christmas holidays that my niece's favorite Disney Princess is Aurora, the Sleeping Beauty. Not because of any particular aspect of her story, but because she's the one who wears Pink.

Right inside those two sentences, there are a few topics for discussion, but not for this week. This week, Sleeping Beauty is my favorite princess as well, not because she wears pink, or because all she needs is a kiss from the right guy to cure her, but because of the extraordinary example she sets and which I intend to follow, for at least a few days:

Why wake up when you don't really have to?

All this to say, Heroines of Fantasy is on holiday this week, but before we let everyone get back to their beauty rest, let me just make a couple announcements:

Please stop by Donna Brown's blog Book Bags and Catnaps to vote for our novels as part of the Indie Love contest. It will only take a few minutes; just scroll down and click 'Like' underneath the thumbnail for EOLYN, FINDER, THE SONG AND THE SORCERESS, or THE NORTHERN QUEEN. There are a lot of great titles, and you can vote as many times as you want, so 'like' away. Voters have the chance of winning a $25 gift certificate from Amazon. Thanks for your support!

Elsewhere, on my blog for EOLYN, I've posted my annual Christmas Reading. This year's excerpt, by popular demand, is the 'Gingerbread House' scene from Chapter Two. Ten minutes of a little story telling magic; I hope you enjoy it.

Those are all the announcements.

Starting next week, Terri Lynne-DeFino will be our MC for the spring. Hooray! She is bringing a great selection of guest bloggers with her; for names, links and dates please check out the right hand bar.

Also, if there are any particular topics you'd like to see us put forward for discussion in the New Year, please let us know! You can write your suggestions in the comments here, or email us at women.writing.fantasy(at)gmail.com

On behalf of Kim, Terri and I, I'd like to wish all of you a wonderful holiday. Thank you so much for being part of our discussions and musings on Heroines of Fantasy. We've really enjoyed this blog and very much appreciate all the insights and perspectives you have brought to the table.

Now, go get your rest, because next week, we'll be back at it!

p.s. -- Not to open yet another topic of discussion (because we're all supposed to go back to sleep now, right?), I wanted to mention that in searching for images for this post, it was almost impossible to find Sleeping Beauties that were NOT the Disney standard. It's amazing just how much Disney has, for better or for worse, co-opted our images of the classic fairy tales...

Posted by Karin Rita Gastreich

La Befana

2011-12-19T07:06:00.000-08:00

La Befana walks the dark-night streets, leading her little white donkey. She raps softly upon the door of every house wherein a child lives, because she is polite and would never simply intrude; but no one answers at the hour she calls, and she lets herself in nonetheless.

She looks underneath the table, in the potato bin, and behind the woodpile, sighing softly, sadly. She sweeps the floor with her ancient broom. She leaves the sweets from her hamper, and sometimes coal if the children of the house were naughty. The offering of wine sipped, cheese and bread nibbled, La Befana lets herself out again.

In the yard, her little white donkey lifts his head from a bucket, sweet well-water dripping from his ghostly muzzle. He's already eaten the grain from the shoe, and is ready when La Befana calls him to her. Off they go to find the next house wherein children live, to search again for her missing babe, to leave sweets and to drink wine, until dawn calls forth the new day, and her night of wandering is over.

There are as many stories of La Befana as there are towns in Italy. This is the gist of the one I remember from a time when I didn't know what memories were. It obviously collected quite a few stories and put it into one--including the Mexican element of grain in the shoe for the donkey. La Befana herself comes out of Italy's ancient past, and not, as far as this Streganona is concerned, a mispronunciation of Epiphany. Even the story I know from my childhood is very Christianized, though the pagan elements remain for any who care to acknoweldge them: At the turn of the year, La Befana sweeps away the year's detrius, and leads her white donkey to the dawn.

Christian legend says the three kings of the magi asked La Befana for directions (men, asking for directions?) and though she gave them shelter in her home, she was too busy cleaning to join them on their journey. Later, she regretted her decision and went after them, and to this day is still searching. In her search, she leaves all the little children she comes across a treat, just in case one of them is the baby Jesus.

Another Christian legend says La Befana was a woman whose child had died. Hearing of the birth of the baby Jesus, she set out to find him, convinced he was her lost son. When she finally found the baby, she gave him gifts. In return, Jesus gave her all the children in Italy for one night every year.

At this time of year, in the northern hemisphere anyway, no matter the faith or culture, it is the celebration of light's triumph over darkness. What stories come out of your past? Your grandparents? Parents? Interesting neighbors? Share!

Glad Tidings of this Joyful Season, and Happy New Year!

Pause

2011-12-12T00:02:00.000-08:00

Even Santa needs a break!

It's going to rain tomorrow.

Normally I'm not a fan of wet weather, particularly when said weather is also cold. There is a reason why I live in sunny Southern California, where we all put on our parkas and scarves as soon as the temperature drops below 65.

However, at this point in the holiday season, I'm sort of looking forward to a shut-in, lazy sort of day, where "the weather outside is frightful, and the fire is so delightful." December, in particular, is hectic. I'm at the end of my semester, so I'm right in the middle of that last burst of grading. My eldest has finals this week. And there is still plenty of shopping, wrapping and baking, parties to attend, visiting, volunteering. It's easy to feel like I'm caught in a whirlwind of color and noise this time of year, with barely any time to pause and reflect. Never mind time to engage in one of my favorite leisure activities: reading.

Winter storms force us to pause and take a much needed break. To reflect. To relax. To curl up on the couch with a thick blanket, shut out the outside world, and read. Right now, I'm looking forward to finishing Terri-Lynne DeFino's richly woven A Time Never Lived, the incredible sequel to her first novel, Finder. Next I'm going to resume reading either Tamora Pierce's Bloodhound or the ARC of Under the Never Sky, a forthcoming YA dystopian novel by Veronica Rossi. Those are at the top of the towering pile of juicy fiction goodness stacking up next to my bed, but if those don't strike my fancy, I may pull out something else. Whatever I choose, it will most likely be fantasy of some sort, either epic or dystopian. It will provide me with a much-needed escape from the crazy day-to-day, for just long enough to recharge my batteries for the days to come.

As 2011 speeds toward its inevitable conclusion, I challenge you, gentle reader, to pause. Pick a day. Maybe it's a bad weather day, or a bad hair day, or even just an hour or two carved out between tasks on your to-do list. Buy, beg, borrow, or steal the time if you must. Forget about all of the musts and have-tos for just a little while, curl up in front of that fireplace, and lose yourself in a good book. You'll be so glad you did.

So-- rain or no rain, what are you going to read next?

~ Kim Vandervort

Stories of Christmas Past

2011-12-05T06:15:00.000-08:00

At midnight, the Christmas Tree becomes
larger than life; a climactic moment
in Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker Suite

When the first snow fell Mage Corey appeared, wearied from his journey yet infused with the energy of contentment that accompanies a true homecoming. Upon his arrival, preparation for Winter Solstice began in earnest.

~ EOLYN, Chapter 23

I like Christmas.

In part, because the season and traditions are such a nice integration of my Pagan, German and Catholic roots. Symbols that have transcended time, culture and religion abound – the Christmas tree, the Advent’s wreath, holly and mistletoe. Song and celebration. The coldest night, the shortest day; death and renewal of the cycle of life.

One could say the event we currently call ‘Christmas’ has outlasted many of the beliefs that have upheld its celebration; its origins date back long before the conversion of Europe to Christianity. Even today, people often celebrate Christmas regardless of its contemporary religious significance. For some reason, it simply makes sense this time of year to deck the halls and stoke the fire, to sit in cozy spaces with family and friends while sipping hot spiced wine or cider, munching on the traditional sweets and delicacies of the season, and retelling the beloved legends and myths that bind us as a family, people and culture.

Carl Offterdinger's interpretation
of Maria Stahlbaum. A dark-haired
witch in the making?

Last year on my blog for Eolyn, I dedicated a December post to one of these timeless tales: E.T.A. Hoffman’s The Nutcracker Prince and the Mouse King. Every year when Christmas approaches my thoughts return to this story, one of the favorites of my childhood.

When I was a young girl, it seemed Hoffman’s Maria Stahlbaum and I had much in common. Maria lived in Frankfurt, a city which I knew well, and which had been the childhood home of my own mother. Maria thrived on dancing and parties and adventure. She got along well with her brother (except for the occasional dispute regarding ownership rights over the new action figure). She loved her mysterious and eccentric Uncle Drosselmeyer, whom I could not help but associate with my own paternal grandfather (though in truth the characters of these two men were quite different; and unfortunately, my grandfather was not a toymaker).

Like many scenes, this moment between
Maria and her ugly prince is lost in
Tchaikovsky's famous ballet.

Over the years, the adventures of Maria (also called ‘Klara’ in the Tchaikovsky ballet interpretation, which is to Hoffman’s tale as Disney is to Grimm) have inspired me in countless unexpected ways. With time, Hoffman’s complex little story blended with Tchaikovsky’s much simpler ballet, melding in the mysterious pathways of my own mind to become more than a children’s Christmas story: It became a tale of a young girl’s coming of age, of the discovery of the power of her own magic.

The Chistmas Tree has transcended frontiers of
culture and religion to remain an enduring symbol
of life and warmth in a season of cold and death.

I bet few people see The Nutcracker Prince and the Mouse King in quite the same way I do, but that doesn’t really matter. What’s cool about all this is the way in which the stories we love as children can become an integral part of who we are as adults.

That’s what I would like to celebrate this week: the Stories of Christmas Past; those wonderful tales that have stayed with us from earliest memories of childhood. Tell me about them all, how they inspired you then, how they inspire you now.

In the spirit of the season, I’m especially interested in the holiday legends, but if you want to share other stories as well, please do. Let's rediscover the Children's Magic inside us all.

Wishing you a joyous holiday season, and many great stories besides.

~Karin Rita Gastreich

The Apocalypse Gene

2011-11-28T07:26:00.000-08:00

One announcement before we move forward with this week's special guests: Hadley Rille Books is celebrating its birthday with special offers on all its titles: just $0.99 for the Kindle or Nook editions; this includes all novels by Terri-Lynne DeFino, Kim Vandervort and Karin Rita Gastreich. The sale lasts only through November 29, so if you haven't yet ordered your electronic edition of your favorite titles from HRB, now is the time. Happy reading!

* * *

We are delighted to have as our guest bloggers this week Carlyle Clark and Suki Michelle. Clark and Michelle are co-authors of The Apocalypse Gene, released just this past October by Parker Press. This critically acclaimed blend of science fiction and fantasy is set in a near-future Chicago. The protagonist, Olivya, is a spirited young African American woman whose unique ability to see auras becomes a key weapon in a struggle upon which the fate of the world – and perhaps the universe – depends. I recently finished reading The Apocalypse Gene, and will be posting formal reviews on Amazon and Goodreads in the next week or so. In the meantime, I can give the novel my highest recommendation for anyone interested in imaginative blends of sci fi and fantasy that engage the reader with imminent danger, nonstop action, a healthy dose of romance and a touch of well-placed humor.

Please join me in welcoming Carlyle and Suki to Heroines of Fantasy.

Olivya-Wright-Ono is a fifteen-year-old, sword wielding, aura seeing, African–American girl born into a near-future dystopian Chicago. She lives on the pages of The Apocalypse Gene and loves nothing more than to share her adventures. That she has that opportunity is a miracle. First, let's talk about what her authors didn't know when they started writing her story.

We didn’t know that there was such a word as "dystopia" let alone that it was a whole genre or that it was the genre we were writing. Needless to say, we hadn't yet heard of The Hunger Games, and didn't until the manuscript was almost complete.
We didn't know there was a term called POC - Protagonist of Color – or that there were very few in YA Speculative Fiction – especially those who are female.
We didn’t know that Olivya’s story, as it developed, would refuse to stay within the strict boundaries of any genre.
And we certainly didn’t know that new authors who try to enter the scene with a novel that combines Dystopia, Urban Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Paranormal, and even Cyber-Punk was enough to make agents' and editors' heads spin.

In our ignorance, innocence, and enthusiasm, we forged ahead. At last it was ready to present to what we thought would be waiting arms of agents and publishers. How surprised we were to discover that the story, being utterly unique, met no pre-established marketing paradigms, that there was no proven sales model to encourage agents and publishers to snap it up regardless, as most of them said, of its originality, the quality of writing, or the fresh new characters. Most rejected it with regret simply because the novel refused to be part of any trend.

Then along came Parker Publishing who specializes in multiethnic literature. They loved our story for their Moxie imprint, and they loved Olivya. The Moxie heroine, as Parker describes her, surmounts all obstacles in her path, and learns lessons from each. MOXIE heroines are the antithesis of unrealistically pretty and shallow characters that have been popularized in much of YA fiction.

This is a perfect description of Olivya! When the book was released, we were greeted with high praise from professional reviewers and many beloved readers - words like "unique", "refreshing," 'wildly imaginative," and of course, "original."

Olivya is a headstrong girl, rough around the edges, and highly determined. You can't dictate to her – you’re lucky if she'll even pay attention. At first, we wrote her weapon as a good old katana. No. Olivya wanted an obscure Japanese sword called a nagamaki, which has a handle as long as its damn blade! That's just how she is - difficult and opinionated - but so much more. Loving one moment, cynical the next, and filled with pain because her aura sight forces her to see the suffering of the pandemic with exquisite agonizing intimacy. She had every right to give in to despair, but that's just not her style.

Carlyle Clark and Suki Michelle

Olivya is a fighter. She won't give up on her sick mother, her dying world, or on hope itself. The odds against her are staggering. Horrifying myths and monsters spring to life around her. Shivpacks run the streets of Chicago, hell bent on chaos. Cancer is ravaging the world. Challenge after challenge arises. The one thing you can count on is that Olivya is the embodiment of MOXIE. She will fight whether it is against monsters and mayhem or for the preservation of love and hope. Olivya . . . Will . . . Fight.

As Kirkus says in their review, “This novel is ultimately about belief, belief in yourself, your friends, your family, and the future.” We are proud to present Olivya to the world. She is a sorely needed role model for young women of every race, and we thank Parker Publishing’s Moxie for giving her that chance.

Food, Glorious Food!

2011-11-21T00:01:00.000-08:00

What is Thanksgiving without food?

I’ll admit it: I love to eat. It’s probably no great secret that the rest of us do, too. But food means more than just sustenance—what we put in our mouths is a central focus of our lives and defines who we are as individuals and as a culture.

So why is food largely absent from fantasy? Authors provide occasional mentions of food: the giant roasted boar at the banquet, the dead rabbit shared around the fire. But we fantasy authors, with all of our imagination and creativity, could do so much more. Food can be used not as a throw-in detail (or as too much detail), but to actually define our characters and the world in which they live.

Use food to define personality. One of the petty criticisms of Ken Scholes’ fantastic first novel, Lamentation, was that his main character’s preference for chilled fruity wines was unrealistic. Where did his minions find the ice, after all? While this detail can distract the reader, it also helps create this character. Through the series, Rudolfo changes from a carefree lover of chilled wine and women to a strong leader. In later books, when he starts hitting the chilled wine rather heavily, it says something altogether different about his character, and Scholes doesn’t have to use much space in the novel to do it.

As much as our likes define us, our dislikes define us more, and can say a great deal about our personalities in very few words. A child who only eats pizza and chicken nuggets? Picky. A person who refuses to drink anything but red wine from a certain label? Discerning. What conclusions can you draw about someone who enjoys everything? Who prefers lots of meat, no meat, or rich foods? Who refuses to eat that dead rabbit, and instead fetches her own berries from the forest? A simple mention of what a character chooses to eat (or not) can say so much about your character in only a few words.

Use food to define social class. One of my favorite scenes to write in Song and the Sorceress was the one in which Ki’leah, a runaway princess, tries to figure out how to eat without silverware in a totally different environment. The people around her dig in with pocket knives and fingers, a method completely foreign in her world of polished silver forks and knives. It’s a huge culture shock, as it should be for any member of pampered royalty thrust into the wilderness, and says a great deal about social structure and manners in Ki’leah’s world.

Use food to define families and traditions. It intrigues me that many modern fantasies don’t incorporate the same traditions that we hold dear. There is no Thanksgiving, no Passover, no gathering of family in the kitchen to put together a meal. Yet these are important elements of our cultural heritage. For many of us, gathering to make the Thanksgiving meal as a family is almost more important than consuming the end result. How can food help define your characters’ ideas about family and their relationships? How can the simple preparation of a meal define their place in a greater tradition?

Food as cultural signature. Most people know what it means when something is as “American as apple pie.” Whether we like it or not, our culture is defined by our love for fried chicken and fast food. A universally-recognized sign for all things American looks suspiciously like the golden arches. We also define other cultures by what they eat, whether they enjoy rice, bangers and mash, or baked ziti. And this is where fantasy runs into the most trouble: nothing says Euro-centered fantasy like that infamous roasted boar. In fact, I would argue that the boar has become a more prevalent stereotype in fantasy than the sexy female love interest. Got boar? Check! Consider instead finding some dish, even creating your own, that defines your culture in a stronger way.

Perhaps most importantly, let your characters eat! They do need sustenance for that long journey, battle, or interrogation. Let your executioner munch a turkey sandwich while he tortures your hero. Have your heroine grab a bit of jerky on the road (or at least let her stomach growl). Food is a part of your characters’ lives as much as it is a part of your own; and, with just a few small details, you can build a better world.

The Story We Created

2011-11-19T20:08:00.000-08:00

(I apologize for the formatting kerfuffle here. I have been trying to get it to look like it's supposed to for half an hour now, and it's just not working. I'm certain Karin or Kim will be able to fix it! For now, you'll have to suffer with my lame-ass tech skills.)

As promised, here is the story created this week in Heroines of Fantasy. I needed a few more than five lines to close it out, but I think it turned out really faboo. That old saying about too many cooks ruining the soup?? Not in this case! I give you--Our Story...

She twisted the ribbons around her wrist, watched the play of light and shadow, delighted in the slip of silk and satin against the warmth of her skin. What she could do with these tools! She could work the magic of these little slips of light in ways her grandfather only dreamed. What he had never understood, she knew: it took a woman's touch to unlock the secrets of light and shadow, to find the gray areas trapped within.

If only her grandfather could see the complex tangle of ribbons now. But would he understand? That was something she'd never know, but his perspective on the world was quite different and rigid. But Grandmother, she would have understood. And she would appreciate the new way.

Maia ran a strand of green silk between her thumb and forefinger. Green, the light of life. Could she use it to give temporary life and a temporary voice to Grandmother? She knew she couldn't bring back the dead, but what if she could allow Grandmother to speak for a short time? What secrets, what magics would she reveal?

She knew fire would be necessary. She searched for matches and the tiny brass burner her mother used for incense. She set the burner on the windowsill, coiled the green ribbon in its cup. The first match fizzled, but the second caught. She touched its bright orange flame to the frayed tip of the ribbon. A tendril of smoke spiraled up.

A soft knock at the door caught her attention for a moment. Then faded away again. The words tripped off her tongue, slipped from her teeth and into the shadows like bats into the haze of dusk.

“Maia,” the voice said. “Your dinner's getting cold.”

Then the door opened, revealing in the glow of lamplight, the terror on her grandfather's face.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

Maia paled. "I was just—I thought—"

Grandfather spied the tiny wisp of smoke and shoved past her, intent on snuffing it out.

Maia hesitated, the words of the spell pregnant on her tongue. Now was her moment, if she would speak, and reverse the damage Grandfather had done, so long ago.

“No!” she cried and snatched the cup from grandfather’s hand. Off her tongue fell words bright and fierce. They strengthened the orange spark. Green light wound its way through the strand of silk and exploded into joyously into the air.

“Oh, child, you don't know what you've done,” said grandfather, a look of incredible sadness on his face.

Light danced in shades of jade, mandarin, vermilion, cerulean; flames twisting around each other in an ever more frenzied rhythm. The center of the vortex rumbled and writhed, then expanded outward, forcing the walls to bend and groan. Without warning, the magic imploded. All color, all light was sucked into darkness. In the black silence that ensued, Maia drew a frightened breath and reached for her grandfather's hand.

“Maia, is that you?”

“Grandmama? I can't see you.”

“No!” shouted grandfather, squeezing her hand tight. “You don't know what you've done.”

“You said that already, Grandfather,” said Maia, “and you're hurting my hand!”

A tendril of smoke curled up from the bowl and stroked Maia's cheek. She shivered, for the smoke wasn't warm, it was cold and slick as a newly-caught fish.

“Edmar always did have an exaggerated sense of drama, didn't you, Edmar?” said Grandmother's voice, as cold as the smoke. Grandfather squeaked and dropped Maia's hand, backing away from the smoke.

“Ediris, forgive me!”

Maia felt a cold chill as the draft wafting around her legs and arms subsided. Grandfather? Grandmama? All was still. And black.

“I forgave you long ago.” Grandmama curled around her husband, like the cold, like the smoke. “It is forgetting I will not do.” Light burst from grandfather's eye sockets, his ears, his nostrils. Grandmama sucked him in, sucked in his life, his light; and when grandfather was a husk drifting soundlessly to the ground, Grandmama turned to Maia.

“How do you follow that up?” asked the Narrator. “I mean, really. That's pretty exciting stuff.”

“Shut up,” snapped the reader. “Tell the story.”

Grandmama looked at Maia, the dribble of grandfather's light wet around her mouth. A long, black tongue snaked out licking the room to darkness again. “Come here, my pretty,” the fish-belly voice said.

Maia slipped shaking hands under her apron and pulled the rest of the ribbons, still in their complicated knots, from the waistband of her skirt. Did she have enough time?

“You are not my grandmama,” Maia said, bunching the ribbons in her fist. “She was wise and brave and kind.”

“And tasty.” The thing-not-grandmama moved closer. “Edmar did not believe his playthings would bite back, but he learned," she licked her lips, “and so did his beloved Ediris.”

“Grandma, what big teeth you have!” said Maia.

“Oh no, no, NO!” said the reader. “That has been soooo done already!”

The Narrator cleared her throat in embarrassment. “Sorry. Let me try again...”

The thing took another step, and Maia could see that it drifted, rather than walked, as though it was woven together from smoke and fog. The scent of burned hair and sulfur hung heavy in the air.

“It won't hurt very long, unfortunately,” the summoning said.

In the hall, the grandfather clock tolled the hour, its song filling the room with dulcet tones. The creature turned towards the sound, its head cocked, transfixed by the melody it played.

Maia felt the ribbons in her fist. If only she could see their colors in the dark. Wait, what was that? A little flash of red sailed up her fingertip. Which ribbon had it come from?

“Red for fire,” whispered a voice close beside her ear. “To burn away the darkness and dark creatures.”

Not-grandmama didn’t appear to hear the voice, but could Maia trust it? She'd already stumbled into one curse calling-forth and feared another. But the-thing-not-her-grandmother was already turning back towards her, and she had no choice. She played her fingers rapidly against the ribbons until red sparked again and spit out the words.

“Red is not for fire,” Maia thought. “Red is for blood. For life!”

The ribbon twisted, slowly smoldering down to ash. The chimes of the clock continued to ring: twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen; eventually she stopped counting.

She ran.

The thing not her grandmother gave chase, cold flicking at Maia's heels. Its fishy breath chilled the back of her neck.

“Yes, yes, run. The light tastes better when young and heated.”

“Follow me to your doom,” Maia whispered between panted breaths, ribbons clutched tightly in her hand.
Down the hill, over the tops of the trees, Maia saw the pennant flying from the top of the town's abattoir, a place she usually avoided at all costs, but today the place she most needed. The twists and turns of the forest trail swallowed her up, but didn't throw Not-Grandmama off her trail.

Maia burst through the last stand of trees into the clearing which held the abattoir, into a wall of sound composed of lowering and panicked beasts. Red ash rose from her fingers, spreading and transforming the blood this place was soaked in into a glowing web of red light, scintillating drops of red as numerous as the grains of sand on a beach, fascinating Not-Grandmama as Maia hoped they would.

That which was not Grandmother ground to a halt, mouth opening and closing with desire. "Beautiful! I must count them all."

Greed twisted its features into a parody of happiness. Sobs of mind-numbing fear shuddered Maia's little body, and she curled up on the ground, her fingers still open, the red ribbon continued to turn to red ash, the blood into red light.
The creature sucked eagerly at the red light, and grew. Maia, past the hope of her life continuing, watched through her salty tears as the not-grandmama blew up like a pig bladder in its greed.

“Red for blood, green for life, gold for light, blue for courage, and pink for love…” Again that voice whispered, so far away and trembling. The thing-not-grandmama towered over her now, sucking and still not sated. Maia tugged the blue ribbon from the clutch in her fist. She stuffed it in her mouth and swallowed.

“What is this?” shrieked the creature. “You dare take what is mine? What I was tricked into giving that old man and his wife? I will have it back. Right. Now!”

Not-grandmama grabbed Maia around the waist, hauled her into the air. Eyes wide open, the blue ribbon burning warm in her belly and snaking its courage through her blood and bones, Maia faced the black-tongued maw. Breath like monsoon wind hit her face, fishy as the cold and twice as rank. Maia held her breath. As her head dipped between the creature’s lips, she thrust her fist in and let the pink ribbon fall onto its tongue.

Not-grandmama gagged. It swallowed. And then it burped.

“What…what…?”

The question never came. Not-grandmama dropped Maia to clutch at its throat. Maia rolled to the ground, coming up in a crouch. She watched the thing shrink as she had watched it grow, a silent scream splitting its lips like a gash. From that gash, light. It shot past Maia.

“I am sorry, child,” a voice like the rush of wind whispered. “I was a fool. My trunk is yours, and all inside.”

Not-grandmama jerked and twisted on the ground, its now-nubby hands twitching, and then still. Light drooled out of the corner of its mouth, its eyes, its nostrils, swirling colors like syrup in cream. Maia heard, “The green summoned it, the red fed it, the pink destroyed it. You carry the blue inside of you now. What you do with the gold is your choice. Peace, dear child. Forgive us both.”

Maia struggled to her feet. Her fingers, cramped into an aching fist, held a gold ribbon. She loosened her grip, one digit at a time, watching the play of light and shadow; knowing it for what it was. Maia wrapped it tenderly around her wrist and kissed the knot she made to hold it. Stepping gingerly over the husk once not-grandmama, she headed for home and the trunk that once belonged to her grandfather who had been no such thing, and the magic never his.

Build-a-story--CLOSED!

2011-11-14T11:04:00.000-08:00

Well, either this is going to be a lot of fun, or there will be plenty of cricketsong in Heroines of Fantasy this week. I'm hoping for fun.

Back in the before-times, when I was a Girl Scout leader, I naturally had my girls do the writing badge. Ok, there were several writing-related badges, and we did them all. We were an artsy group. An activity I came up with to satisfy one of the requirements was writing a collective story. We started with a picture, and five lines. Each girl had to add another five lines before passing it on to the next. In the end, we had a story, and a lot of laughs because, inevitably, the girls got a little naughty with their storytelling--poop-jokes when they were little, and a bit bawdier once they hit middle school.

We have so many heavy conversations in HoF, I thought, given the festive time of year, we could use a bit of a revel. Let's have at it, shall we?

Light, the final ingredient, and the most elusive. Maia gathered up the ribbons she found in the crusty trunk her grandfather kept under his bed. "From older days, when I was young and full of spice," he told her, and winked, and tucked the ribbons back into the trunk. Maia knew better; these were no bobbies passed by poxy-doxy-girls to favor young men just in from the sea. They were light, trapped and coveted; and her grandfather was nothing of the kind.

Here are the rules--FIVE LINES ONLY! No cheating. And the only thing I ask is that you not be offensive. Sex and/or violence is allowed, but please don't get too graphic. Posting ends midnight on Saturday, November 19th. I'll conclude with the last five lines, and post the whole collective story on Sunday, November 20th. Sound like fun? Join in!

Villainesses and Anti-Heroines

2011-11-07T06:15:00.000-08:00

Happy November.

For various reasons that are beyond the scope of this blog, I've decided to take it easy on myself with this month's post, and give all of you a treat while I'm at it: an audio-recording of a reading I did this past September from my short story 'Creatures of Light'.

'Creatures of Light' is a portrait of Selenia, a brilliant and ruthless woman scientist living in a fantasy Age of Exploration. The audio-recording includes just two scenes from the short story, both featuring some remarkable organisms that Selenia studies. One day this short story will be expanded into a full-length novel; until then I can give you this small taste of what is to come.

Selenia has been mentioned on this blog before; I brought her up in the discussion following our very first post in September (Why Fantasy?) as a possible example of an anti-heroine. And because a week cannot pass on Heroines of Fantasy without a discussion of some kind, I'd like to pull out the topic of anti-heroines once again, and couple that with the topic of villainesses.

Here are my questions for you:

What do you like to see in your anti-heroines, and your villainesses? What makes this kind of character appealing, engaging; a woman we might actually relate to even as we abhor her decisions and actions?

Who are your favorite anti-heroines and villainesses, and why?

What would you like to see in an anti-heroine or villainess that you have not yet seen in your reading?

Do you expect the anti-heroine or the villainess to act in ways that are qualitatively different when compared to the anti-hero and the villain? Why or why not?

You don't have to tackle all these questions in one week, of course. But if you're up for sharing your thoughts on at least one, I'd love to hear them.

While you're mulling over what to write in your comments, here's that audio recording I was talking about. I hope you enjoy Selenia; she's one of my favorite characters to work with.

Posted by Karin Rita Gastreich

The Evolution of Duality in Fantasy and Science Fiction

2011-10-31T06:15:00.000-07:00

It is my great pleasure this week to host Terra Whiteman as our guest blogger on Heroines of Fantasy. I met Terra when she attended the School of Health and Science at Avila University. Terra was one of those students who makes it a joy to teach: intelligent, dedicated and hard working; always bringing an insightful and focused presence to the classroom. But it wasn't until I announced the forthcoming publication of my novel EOLYN that I learned Terra, like me, had a secret life as a fantasy fiction author.

The first installment of Terra's web serial THE ANTITHESIS was published on line in February of 2010. By the time she finished the web serial in August of 2011, the site had received over 270,000 hits. The serial was picked up by 1889 Ltd Labs and released in three print volumes this past summer. THE ANTITHESIS takes our traditional vision of heaven, hell -- and the struggle that at once separates and unites them -- and turns that vision inside out.

In addition to her fiction, Terra writes a bi-weekly blogzine at 1889 Labs. She currently works in the field of clinical toxicology and plans to pursue a PhD in microbiology/virology. She is married and lives in Kansas City, Kansas.

Please welcome Terra Whiteman, and join us in a discussion of duality in the context of fantasy and science fiction.

*****

Duality is a term that describes opposing forces; though, the opposing forces that mainly pertain to duality are placed within the topic of good and evil.

The basis of theology—most religion and belief systems, revolves around duality. We must be good and thwart evil. We must abide the laws and learn from the morals written for us, so that we can continue being good. For a large majority of the existence of human civilization, religion was the supreme force that shaped our societal, political and cultural beliefs. Some may even argue that it is still this way for many countries and societies.

Therefore, it goes without a doubt that many forms of fiction, spanning across all genres, somehow encapsulate duality. I'm sure you can think of several off the top of your head at this very second. Many of the classics deal with duality, and without it, we wouldn't have had fairytales either. Duality is a reflection of how us, as a human collective, view the world in the most basic sense.

But how exaggerated is this notion, when placing duality in the perspective of the real world, and real people?

The Enlightenment Period of history was when things began drastically changing. Duality was still there, but it shifted from 'good and evil' to 'right and wrong'. And, though these terms are definitely related to one another, they are not synonymous. During these times, literary fiction began changing as well. Even before then, the Greeks explored the spaces in between good and evil, or right and wrong, reciting epics of wars where not everything was simply one sided, and each character had their reasons for acting in certain ways. The Iliad, Paradise Lost (where Satan is actually more of an anti-hero) and The Divine Comedy are excellent examples of this. It was during these times that duality was approached and analyzed in a more philosophical way, leaving readers questioning whether their idea of 'good and evil' or 'right and wrong' was actually correct.

Since then, we've had a significant addition to character roles in fiction. Before, we simply had the hero/heroine and the villain/villainess. Later on, we switched the hero to the protagonist, which is a more ambiguous term for a leading character, because people began exploring main characters that were less than heroic. For the villain, it was the antagonist, which pretty much is described as the person the protagonist has a problem with. No longer do our 'villains' cackle from towers, attempt world destruction for no apparent reason other than for the fact that they are genuinely evil, or try to cook and eat children. No, now emerges characters that are a little more easily relatable to us; that deal with situations and are placed in circumstances that perhaps we have experienced as well.

Both the worlds of fantasy and science fiction are the leaders in this new evolved form of duality. Often, we are introduced to a number of characters on opposing sides, who despite being enemies, have some traits that we find likeable, or we can sympathize with. When the war begins, and ensues, we are challenged to decide what is right and wrong, given the circumstances, based on the characters we've grown to know (and sometimes love).

And I think this is very important, and crucial, because our world is actually one that is entirely subjective. The best stories were the ones that made us stop and think. They made us question our beliefs, or morals, or their message stayed with us for a very long time. Classics continue to be read for a reason, after all.

The evolution of duality—the black and white curtain of good and evil to the gray veil of right and wrong—has not only made fantasy fiction more complex and deeper, it also made it more personal. Making it more personal allows us, as writers, to touch readers in a way that we couldn't in the earlier ages of fiction. And ultimately, moving readers is something that writers aim for.

Because writing is art. Therefore we are artists, and art should both edify and evoke.

In the parting words of Archdemon Belial Vakkar on the topic of good and evil, from The Antithesis:

"I supposed the events of my life posed quite a good example of the fallacy that was ‘good and evil’. Though I’d occasionally done what might be considered ‘evil’ things, I was most certainly not an evil man. What was evil, anyway? I’d have liked to see a true definition, pointing out the prerequisites of ‘evil’. On that note, I’d have liked to see ‘good’ as well. Because by the standards given in the mythos and religion we’d brainwashed all of you with, I’d say with the utmost sincerity that I had never met a good man. Why?

Because none of that rubbish actually existed. Not good, not evil;

Only justice.

We did what we did because of what was done unto us, period. Justice needed no good or evil, nor had it needed an ethical guideline to reference. It needed a reason, and that was all. And everyone had their reasons, right?"

The Matriarch

2011-10-24T06:15:00.000-07:00

A couple announcements before moving on to our guest post by M.C. Chambers.

First, Heroines of Fantasy now has a Forthcoming Titles Page. So, in addition to seeing our current novels (whose links are also listed on the right hand side bar), you can have a sneak preview of titles to be published in the not-so-distant future. At the moment, Terri-Lynne DeFino's A Time Never Lived, scheduled for release in summer 2012, is listed. Additional forthcoming titles from Kim Vandervort and me will be added as pitches and preliminary cover art become available.

This week, Terri-Lynne DeFino, Kim Vandervort and I will all be attending the World Fantasy Convention in San Diego, California. As part of the kick off events, I will be at Mysterious Galaxy Bookstore for an informal Meet and Greet the Authors event on Wednesday, October 26, from 6:30pm to 8:30pm. Terri, Kim and I all have panels scheduled; to find out when and where please check out the Program Schedule for World Fantasy. Finally, we will be at the mass autograph session on Friday, October 29, from 8pm to 11pm. This is going to be a fantastic event, featuring all the authors at World Fantasy, including an impressive roster of Hadley Rille authors. Books will be available for purchase and signing.

Those are the announcements for this week. Onto our guest post.

M.C. Chambers is the author of SHAPERS' VEIL, recently released by Hadley Rille Books. SHAPERS' VEIL is the story of Kawi, a hawk with the power to assume human form. In addition to boasting stunningly poetic prose, SHAPER'S VEIL features a unique approach to the traditional magic of shapeshifting: The "power" of changing shape depends on microscopic parasitic organisms called "Shapers". This makes Chambers work a compelling blend of fantasy and science fiction, and a must read for fans of both genres.

M.C. Chambers has also published science fiction short stories, including two in anthologies published by Hadley Rille Books. She earned her first college degree in music, her second in computer science. In addition to writing, she plays flute, programs databases, belly dances and walks in the wind. She lives in Missouri with her husband, several of her sons, two cats and a cockatiel.

Please welcome M.C. Chambers, and join us in a discussion of the Matriarch.

*****

Some years ago I asked several women whom I admired what the word matriarch meant to them. Each of them named her own grandmother, and described how inspiring and influential she had been. Two things interested me by the responses: one, no one mentioned queens, politicians or world leaders, and two, it was not mothers but grandmothers who were given the title.

In mythology, a grandmother is an Elder, a wise woman, who protects and teaches the young. I’m thinking now of grandmothers I have read about in fantasy. I remember wise and regal Galadriel, Arwen’s grandmother in Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. I remember the completely not regal but equally wise Nanny Ogg, an ancient, powerful and daffy sorceress who is also progenitor of half the county, from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series.

Thinking of the mothers portrayed in stories, I remember many unsavory characters. In fairy tales, the good mothers die and evil stepmothers take their places. The mothers Dara and Jasra in Roger Zelazny’s Chronicles of Amber are protective but ultimately manipulative power-seekers: matriarch wannabees hoping to rule through their sons, except that these strong, ambitious women raised strong, ambitious sons who thwarted them. But some mothers in spec fic are noble in their protectiveness: Sarah Conner from the Terminator movies and Helen Parr, “Elastigirl”, from The Incredibles.

When writing my novel Shapers’ Veil, I wanted my heroine Gydana to be not just a strong character who is female, but a character who is strong because she is female. The sword-wielding warrior women I had been seeing more and more of in fantasy did not resonate with me. I wanted to write of a woman who was like women I actually knew. I wanted to write of a mother.

Gydana, like Demeter without Persephone, is a mother who has lost a child and has withdrawn from the greater world. Yet she remains maternally adoptive. Just as a nursing dog will adopt a piglet or a tiger cub, Gydana takes all manner of creatures under her wing - including the shape-shifter who pulls her into her quest. She is close to nature, having learned where to find and how to use the plants and waters and heat that her world provides. This knowledge is her defense and her weapon. She understands the nature of things, and understands her strange companions, adversaries, dreams and the hungry force that threatens all life as part of all nature. Understanding them, she grows in her journey first to acceptance, then to mastery. She rejoins the greater world as an Elder, a titular Grandmother.

The grandmothers described to me by my friends were not rulers in the political sense. To some eyes, they may even have seemed ordinary women. Their true mastery lay in their understanding of life, and their ability and willingness to pass the legacy of their knowledge to their children’s children. This is what gave them power and influence. This is what made them Matriarchs.

The Reality of Horses in Epic Fantasy

2011-10-17T06:23:00.001-07:00

Horses. They are the most common mode of travel in fantasy novels, and yet how many authors actually get it right? Forget about Gandalf's Shadofax who could run like the wind...indefinitely. I'm not interested in such magical or magicked creatures. I'm talking about horses. Regular horses that, as much as we might wish they could, can't gallop for hours on end, cover full countries in three days, or survive blizzards without shelter.

Despite what we have been programmed to believe, the ground a horse can actually cover in a day is not as much as you might expect. In fact, a person on foot can feasibly cover as much ground. Sure, a horse can kick it into a gallop in the blink of an eye, but it's built for evasion, not sustained periods of speed. They need to run faster--a little bit longer--than that lion giving chase; that's all. Depending upon the breed and training, size of the rider and terrain, certain horses can go longer, faster, but no breed can gallop for hours on end, or even an hour, or even half an hour.

The reality of traveling horseback is that the animals themselves are designed to walk. Plod even. Horses need to drink and graze often. Like other grazing animals, they eat most of the day just to get enough nutrition to graze again the next day. If ridden, even at a walk, for several hours a day, a horse can't simply be staked to graze through the night. When would it rest? A working horse needs grain to supplement its diet or it will starve, quickly. To carry that grain entails having a pack animals of some kind, which in turn slows things down considerably. Of course, ye ol' stabling a horse can work sometimes, but that comes with a whole different set of obstacles like the expense.

Horses are expensive--and that's another reality of horses in fantasy. They're fine and dandy for the royalty and wealthy in a story, highwaymen and brigands maybe--that quick getaway being kind of important-- but few of your locals are going to own horses. As for travelers using horses, the sad fact is that trading a spent animal for a fresh one would be a lot more realistic than properly caring for a beloved horsey-companion.

Horses in fantasy fall into the category of other such realities we've discussed this month in Heroines of Fantasy. If we were after authenticity, we'd see more mules--smarter, hardier, and all around stronger--than we do horses. But would Lady Godiva (above pic) strike as romantic and lovely a pose if she were riding a much more stalwart and practical mule?

And there's the biggest reason I see fantasy employing the horse when the reality would do no such thing. Not only have most readers been programmed to see horses through these rose-colored glasses, but we want to suspend that belief. They are beautiful animals, almost magically so. They are part of our fantasy backdrop--like those non-menstruating sword-wielding warrior women--and I don't see that changing any time soon.

Have you ever seen a realistic depiction of horses in a fantasy novel?

Reality Check: How Much is Too Much in Epic Fantasy?

2011-10-09T22:51:00.000-07:00

My post last month led to a fantastic discussion of a variety of things, including the concept of realism in fantasy. Commenters brought up many excellent points, including the idea that maybe it doesn’t matter if a girl can’t really heft that big sword; isn’t it nice to suspend a little disbelief now and then and believe it could happen?

My answer? It depends on the talent of the writer and the sensibilities of the reader. One of the things I LOVE about Tolkien is that, as a medievalist myself, he pushes all of my scholarly buttons. I enjoy seeing the seeds of our own culture in Middle Earth. But I also love that he’s taken those seeds and grown totally unique flowers. One of the things that turned me off about Steven Erikson’s Malazan Empire series is his unrelentingly realistic depictions of torture and violence. While I understand that he’s not reinventing the wheel here—historically, human beings have developed a marked appreciation for the varied ways to harm one another—but the image of hundreds of crucified children will never burn out of my brain. That was more realism than I could handle. Another reader’s mileage may vary. Regardless, both authors do a bang-up job of making their fantasies realistic to the reader, whether they’re historically accurate or even probable—and that’s good craft.

Sometimes it’s not the big things, but the little details that intrude too much into the story. One of the things I liked about Elizabeth Moon’s Deed of Paksenarrion was that whenever the army stopped moving, one of the first things the soldiers did was dig the poop-trenches. I found this to be an excellent small detail that made a lot of sense and said a great deal about the organization of the army, its priorities, and the pecking order (because that definitely wasn’t a job handled by the highest-ranking members). However, I quickly put down another fantasy novel because the main character was constantly menstruating and passing out. It was messy and gross and really took me out of the story. Unless it’s important to the story in some way, I just don’t need to read about certain aspects of reality.

Most importantly, characters should be as realistic as possible in the context of their own world. I will only judge a fictional character by modern standards if the writer hasn’t done a good enough job of convincing me that his/ her world is “real.” And characters need to connect with the reader in a human way, regardless of profession or social status. Whether I’m writing or reading about a princess or a servant, I need to care about the character in order to feel engaged with the story. Everything else is just window dressing.

Ultimately, the question of how much reality is too much all comes down to craft. If I want to drop a couple of female ninjas riding pink hippos into a pseudo-medieval setting, I can—presuming I can get the reader to buy that this is totally plausible in my world. The worldbuilding doesn’t have to be historically accurate for readers to buy in; the real trick is selling the world so well that the reader doesn’t even question whether or not something could or could not happen.

Kim Vandervort

Love and Sex in a Heroine's World

2011-10-03T06:15:00.000-07:00

A maga cannot be possessed by any man, and she will love many, if the Gods look upon her with favor before they call her home.

– Briana of East Selen

This semester, students in my first year seminar Environment and Politics in Central America are reading Gioconda Belli’s compelling memoir The Country Under My Skin, which recounts Belli’s involvement with the Sandinista Revolution in Nicaragua during the 1970s and 80s. My students tend to love this book; they find Belli’s prose very accessible and come to admire her as a modern day heroine who risked life and family to take up arms against an oppressive and violent regime.

That admiration is being undercut, however, for at least one of my students, who has found that the multiple love affairs Belli reports having had during those tumultuous years is beginning to get on her nerves:

“She [Belli] has gone from being an admirable, strong woman,” this student recently wrote, “to my idea of why women are so weak. They rely on men’s strength for comfort.”

This statement has been echoing in my head ever since I read it a couple weeks ago, and has me wondering in a broader sense about the relationship between love, sex and the image of strength in our heroines. Women with multiple lovers are often called “fickle”, “inconstant” and “weak”, or any number of much more uncomplimentary words, but does calling them all these things make it so?

Is a female protagonist with multiple lovers by definition weak?

When I began crafting the world of Eolyn, I had it very clear in my head how sex, and especially women’s sexuality, would be seen by the subculture of the Magas (the particular tradition of witchcraft that Eolyn inherits). I even allowed Magas to use the term ‘sexuality’ in the original draft of the novel, until Terri-Lynne DeFino challenged me on this because, as she argued, sexuality as a concept didn’t really exist in the Middle Ages, making the word anachronistic in the context of epic fantasy.

On the one hand, I thought Terri had a point, but her comment put me in a difficult dilemma. While sexuality may be anachronistic in the context of pseudo-medieval societies, it was not in any way anachronistic for the Magas of Eolyn’s world, who understood the concept of a woman’s desire (shall we say, “needs”), and considered it an integral part of women’s magic. There was no way I could sacrifice the concept of 'sexuality' without losing a very important pillar of their worldview.

With a little bit of thought and some help from a friend, I invented the magical term ‘aen-lasati’, which literally translates to the ‘fire within’. So the word was changed in the final version of the novel, but the concept remains.

Aen-lasati is considered one of the gifts of Primitive Magic, the most ancient, powerful, and least understood class of magic recognized by Mages and Magas in Eolyn’s world. Aen-lasati is divine in nature, and Magas (as well as Mages) are taught to respond to it with joyful reverence, not with fear, and certainly not with prohibition.

There is no such thing, in a Maga’s world, as meaningless sex. All sex, when freely shared, is considered sacred. On the other hand, there is no maxim that sexual relationships must be bound by rules of “love” and “fidelity”. Indeed, according to some lines of thought, the whole concept of fidelity flies in the face of a true understanding of aen-lasati.

(This is a little [ahem] different from how I was brought up as a Kansas girl from a Catholic family. But that’s another story. . .)

The perspective of the Magas is unique even in the context of Eolyn’s world, where women are generally expected to fill the traditional roles we associate with patriarchal medieval societies. This causes no small amount of tension and conflict, not only for Eolyn, but for all the Magas who have come before her.

From an author’s point of view, the practical implication of aen-lasati is that my heroine has no qualms about sleeping with a man she does not intend to stay with forever. She can also embrace the possibility of loving two (or perhaps more) men at once. Now, there is a hero in her story who is the wonderful, complex alpha-type guy that most readers would expect the heroine to commit to when all is said and done. But there is no guarantee that Eolyn will, even if given the opportunity. As a maga, she is generally reluctant to promise herself to one man because she knows (or has been taught) that sooner or later aen-lasati will kick in, and that the Gods may very well direct her toward another union with someone else in the not-so-distant future.

Does this make Eolyn weak? I really don’t think so. But it sets her apart from many of the heroines I’ve known, most of whom seem clearly destined to settle with the one heroic guy who is “right” for them – even if they sleep with multiple partners along the way.

I’m certain there are exceptions to this rule; Guinevere comes to mind as an example, and I imagine we’ll hear others in this week's discussion. But for the most part it seems to me there is one hero out there for every heroine; and that we typically expect the Heroine, in her heart of hearts, to wait, like the legendary Penelope, steadfast and true to her Man.

I look forward to hearing your thoughts. . .

Note: I have tried to construct this essay in a way that avoids spoilers for those who have not yet read my novel. For those of you who have already read EOLYN, I would very much appreciate it if you do the same with your comments. Thank you!

Posted by Karin Rita Gastreich

How one of the "Three With Eyes That See" started a new niche for Hadley Rille Books

2011-09-25T20:46:00.000-07:00

Every fourth (and the occasional fifth) Monday on Heroines of Fantasy is set aside for a guest post. Our line up for the fall is a very exciting one; for the complete list, including links to websites, please scan down the right-hand bar. Today our guest is Eric T. Reynolds, editor of Hadley Rille Books. But before we move on to the guest post, we have just a couple announcements.

First, this week is your LAST chance to register for the Heroines of Fantasy Grand Opening Raffle on October 1. First prize is a free signed copy of the novel Eolyn by Karin Rita Gastreich. Second prize is the October 2010 issue of Adventures for the Average Woman, featuring Karin's short story 'Creatures of Light'. To learn more about the prizes and registering, visit our Grand Opening Raffle Page. Or just send your name and email address to women.writing.fantasy(at)gmail.com

Also, Karin was interviewed this past week by Terra Whiteman at 1889 Labs. To read about what inspired Eolyn, the challenges of writing the novel, and the three things Karin would like to do before she dies (which hopefully won't be any time soon), please visit the 1889 Labs Blog.

Now, onto our main attraction. . .

When Kim, Terri and I started Heroines of Fantasy, there was no doubt in our minds as to the person we wanted as our first guest blogger. Eric T. Reynolds has edited over twenty critically acclaimed anthologies, collections and novels and has had short fiction published in several anthologies. He has also published non-fiction articles about the history of space exploration and technology.

Perhaps most relevant to this blog, Eric is the reason Kim, Terri and I know each other. We came together through his small press Hadley Rillle Books, which was founded in 2005 and is dedicated to publishing quality works of science fiction, fantasy and archeologically accurate historical fiction. Hadley Rille is a busy little press that many people in the genre agree is going places. I think I can speak for all three of us when I say it's been a great pleasure and a source of pride to work with Eric and Hadley Rille. So without further ado, let me turn the stage over to our esteemed editor, Eric T. Reynolds:

About three years ago, just a few years after its founding, Hadley Rille Books inhabited two niches: we published hard science fiction anthologies (and some short works from other subgenres) and I was just beginning to plan for our new Archaeology series. In 2008, I was working with Jenny Blackford on her book, The Priestess and the Slave, and had just made an agreement to publish Buffalito Destiny by Lawrence M. Schoen. Those were to be the first single-author books of our two niches.

Jenny’s, the first book of the new Archaeology series, featured female protagonists in dual stories set in ancient Greece (a subject of Jenny’s specialty). She showed what life was like from a female point-of-view, from a common person who was coping on an individual and community level with the Plague of Athens. This was a unique and accurate way to show the struggles of humanity during the ancient past.

Lawrence’s science fiction novel was his first full length novel set in his popular world of The Amazing Conroy and his buffalito, Reggie, a fun adventure told on several levels, showing among other things how humans (and aliens) cope with their own frailties.

So Hadley Rille Books was all set. We had the new Archaeology series and the new Buffalito series of books to look forward to. I was excited. Then Kim Vandervort approached me at Worldcon in 2008 and pitched her novel to me, a fantasy novel called The Song and the Sorceress. I told her, sure I would consider it. I had, after all, published a short story by her in the anthology Ruins Metropolis and I knew she could write. I told her I hadn’t been publishing much fantasy and wasn’t sure if I was going to go that route, but I wanted to see what she had written so I told her to send it to me.

One chapter into the book, I knew I wanted to publish it. (Naturally, I didn’t tell her that until I finished it.)

So here was a book that, even though from a genre I hadn’t planned on spending much publishing time, I wanted to add to our growing list of fantastic titles. It took me a while to realize why I had wanted to publish it. It was an excellent story, for sure. Kim’s voice was unique and exciting. Her characters were vivid. The mystery and romance in the book were exceptional. But after a while I figured out that it fit into a larger part of the Hadley Rille Books personality for which I’d been searching. Along with Jenny’s unique female characters and settings, and Lawrence’s witty storytelling, Kim’s book showed a new perspective on how a protagonist can grow from naivety to one who manages to conquer the unconquerable, and all without relying on many stereotypes of just how women in fantasy should be. Kim’s book also allowed me to appreciate Jenny’s book even more (and appreciate what Jenny had started for Hadley Rille with her female characters' unique points of view).

It’s hard to describe why I thought this, but that sense of building a new niche became stronger as we’ve continued to add more exceptional titles, including those by Kim’s Heroines of Fantasy sisters, Terri-Lynne DeFino and Karin Rita Gastreich. Each of these authors’ works complements and enhances the others. This “being part of something larger” also continued along the Archaeology and science fiction lines. From those beginnings we’ve developed an overall personality of our novels with unique and overlooked points of view from characters, such as female characters (who aren't always young) that show us perspectives of life from an angle we get to see much too seldom in fiction.

Eric T. Reynolds

Hadley Rille Books

...As a post-script, let me add for our readers: Please feel free to ask Eric any questions you have about small press, editing, or publishing in general. Thanks for stopping by! --Karin

Fantasy: A Love Story

2011-09-19T06:15:00.000-07:00

“Round about what is lies a whole mysterious world of what might be.”

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

As a child, I watched fairies flitter among the flowers. I heard ghosts whisper between my ears. I felt clawed witch-fingers slither up my spine whenever I walked by certain houses. If I held my breath and flapped my arms really, really hard, I could fly. My toys came alive when I was out of the room; I tried to catch them but never could. I had conversations with squirrels and neighborhood dogs. My childhood world was full of magic and adventure as real to me as dragonflies and my own thoughts, cranky old ladies and dreams.

That mysterious world of what might be got misplaced sometime between childhood and adolescence. As I grew and learned to see with adult eyes, the magic faded. The titles of my stories went from The Fire-breathing Dragon, to Luck is Only for Winners. From magic to mundane, all in a few years of growing up.

No wonder Peter Pan fought it.

In the summer of 1979, I was fifteen years old and spent many a-lazy hour reading, sprawled on a thick limb of a tree in my yard. I found my lust for Harlequin Romances waning. I was too old for childhood favorites like Pippi and Ramona and Harriet. A couple years earlier, Star Wars started me itching for something…something I almost remembered…

I went to the library where, within the seemingly infinite possibilities, nothing looked interesting. I remember absently thumbing through the books on the nickel shelf. Tattered, one and all. I spotted a blue cover. No dust jacket. Bent pages, frayed corners, broken spine. Gold letters etched into it.

The Once and Future King.

The title scratched my itch; the story blew my teenage mind. All that magic left in childhood came rushing back as Wart and Sir Kaye. A sword. A stone. Merlin and Nimue. Guinevere and Arthur and Lancelot. Did I get all the metaphor? All the symbolism? Hell, no! But I found the way back to the magic, the mystery, the possibilities you need the space behind your eyes to see.

I found Bilbo and Gandalf. Frodo and Sam. Lady Amalthea and Schmendrick; Thomas Covenant and Lord Foul; Garion and Belgarath and Polgara; Ged and Earthsea; Xanth and Dragonlance. I razed these worlds of words, went back for more and more, right up to this very day, more.

We are all born with that sense of wonder, the knowledge that there truly is a whole mysterious world, indeed, many mysterious worlds of what might be. Some keep the knowledge all their lives. Some lose it and never find it again. Some, like me, only misplace it, and are lucky enough find it again.

And then, there are those few of us who take the next step; we create our own mysterious worlds of what might be. We send them out into the world to ignite that sense of wonder and whimsy in others. It's our own sort of omnipotence, creating worlds. A form of immortality. And it’s love, pure love. For me, that is why fantasy.

What is your love story?

Why Heroines? Defining the Heroine in Epic Fantasy

2011-09-11T21:58:00.000-07:00

We've come a long way, baby, but why are good heroines still so hard to find? And how do we, as authors, write a heroine that speaks true to the reader?

The problem with “traditional”female characters in epic fantasy, as I see it, is that they fall into one ofonly a few roles: the goodly matron, the healer, the love interest, the witch, theprostitute, and the victim. Sometimesthey fulfill more than one of these roles at a time. She’s a witch AND a goodly matron! She’s the prostitute AND the victim AND thelove interest! 5x bonus for a characterwho manages to meet all of the stereotypes at the same time! Unfortunately, she doesn’t play much of arole beyond that prescribed for her by the genre. Our “heroine,” even when she wields a swordlike a badass, still swoons over our hero and falls apart like bad toilet paperwhenever the going gets tough.

Heads-up, people: theseare not real women. In order to write aproper heroine, the author has to respect the characteristics that make womenstrong and use those to advantage instead of trying to force the heroine to occupya stale stereotype or squish into the role traditionally occupied by the hero.

So what, then, defines agreat heroine?

For starters, she’s goingto use her words. A woman’s need tocommunicate is generally much stronger than that of her male counterpart. We talk, and talk, and talk. We problem solve, talk through trickysituations and share stories. Thus, evenif our heroine isn’t a chatterbox, she will still most likely attempt a littleparley before jumping into that bar fight. She’ll try to talk herself out of—or into—a situation. She’ll use words as a delay, as a diversion,as a weapon, or to make up for what she herself may lack in physical strength.

Which leads me to anotherproblem: women are not equal in strength to men. Yes, I’m going to have my feminist cardrevoked. But it takes a lot of brutestrength to lift that two-handed broadsword over your head like Conan and splityour enemies in two. Forensicarchaeology argues that the English archers of Agincourt had such overdevelopedchests and shoulders that their bone structures and musculature were physically altered. Just to pull the bow those men had to trainfrom an early age, and even then, a particular body type was required or they wouldn't succeed past a certain point. Unless your heroine has a gym membership and has been working out with her weapon of choice since the age of five, I have a hard time believing that she will ever be able to equal her male counterparts in battle.

So what’ s a girl todo? Pick up a smaller weapon. A short sword. A dagger. A small bow and arrow. Or—my personalfavorite—use her brain. The brain is anoft-overlooked tool in the sword and sorcery genre (unless it’s being used tocast spells or figure out how to bed the hot guy in the party). In Song and the Sorceress, Ki’leah’s memory isthe most sought-after commodity on two continents. The knowledge she carries is far more important—andmore dangerous—than she realizes. Learningto use that to her advantage gives her more power than a lifetime of swordlessons could ever do.

Perhaps one of the mostimportant characteristics of a heroine is that she, unlike the lonely hero,thrives with a support network. A goodheroine realizes she can’t get the job done all by herself. If she’s lacking strength, she’ll bring themuscle. Does she need information? She’ll bring a spy, a scholar, a big-assbook. She’s not afraid to delegate or askher friends for help. Why? Because that’s what strong women do. Anyone who has ever been to a PTA or a GirlScout convention knows exactly what I’m talking about. Strong women acknowledge their weaknesses,then find a way to overcome them. They work together to get the job done. They also connect, on a much deeper level, with other women, who are always ready tojump in and spackle up the cracks in their friend’s emotional armor, buff it, shine it, giveher a hug and send her on her way with a “good luck” and a “don’t forget yourgauntlets.” A strong network of friendsand associates is essential for any heroine worth her salt.

Which brings me to mylast point, which is that we seldom see too many of these women in fantasy eventhough we have moved beyond the gold-bikini-as-armor era (thank goodness—it’s sounsafe to be fighting naked). Nevertheless, eventhough one can glance at the SFF section in Barnes & Noble and see rowsupon rows of covers featuring women in tight tank tops and leather jackets,very few of these creatures are actual heroines. They are simply male characters who’ve been dressed up aswomen. These girls act like men, thinklike men, ride Harleys like men, fight like men, have sex like men. They don’t act like real women at all. And while we women can pretend that we’remaking all kinds of progress in the genre, the reality is that those coversaren’t so far after all from the gold-bikini-armored warriors that made BorisVallejo famous.

The best way I’ve foundto tackle the problem is to just keep writing the kind of heroines Iadmire. Women who have dreams, hopes,fears, friends, enemies, brains, and wit. Women who care deeply for their families and would do anything to help afriend, even if it means giving an edge to the enemy. Women who laugh, cry, make mistakes, thenproblem solve ways to fix them. Womenwho need men as companions, as friends, as lovers, but who don’t need to berescued. Women with depth of character,spirit, and passion. These are realwomen; these are the true heroines of fantasy.

Now, speak: what do you all think?

Kim Vandervort

Why Fantasy?

2011-09-05T10:11:00.000-07:00

“I propose to speak about fairy stories, though I am aware that this is a rash adventure. Faerie is a perilous land, and in it are pitfalls for the unwary and dungeons for the overbold. And overbold I may be accounted…” –J.R.R. Tolkien

When Kim, Terri and I first began discussing the idea for this blog just a few weeks ago, I thought it might be a couple months before we came to an agreement on what we wanted to do, and how we wanted to do it. But Heroines of Fantasy, as a concept and as a web site, was assembled in record time. I think this reflects not only similarities between the three of us in terms of how we view fantasy fiction, but also the great excitement we share about the genre and our deep desire to discuss the adventure of fantasy fiction with other authors and readers.

By way of introduction, this month we’ve decided to talk a little about "Why fantasy?” What is it about fantasy as a genre that inspires us as readers and authors? Why start a blog dedicated to the discussion of fantasy fiction, and especially women in fantasy fiction?

The question of “why fantasy?” has come back to me many times, especially in recent months since the release of my first novel, Eolyn. The full answer to the question would be way too long for the average blog post; and I’ve responded to it in different ways at different moments in my journey as a reader and a writer.

For colleagues who know me through my day job as a biology professor, the revelation that I am also a fantasy author seems all the more puzzling. Why would a scientist write fantasy? I think the perception that this is somehow contradictory stems from our cultural tendency to assume it is the career that defines the person, and not the person who defines her career.

But also, I think we tend to forget that fantasy and science, although very different endeavors, nonetheless respond to very similar needs. This was made clear to me once again in recent weeks. While mulling over what I would write for this first post, I came across a curious coincidence between my readings about fantasy and my readings about ecology.

In his classic essay, ‘On Faerie Stories’, J.R.R. Tolkien made the following observation:

“The magic of Faerie is not an end in itself, its virtue is in its operations: among these are the satisfaction of certain primordial human desires. One of these desires is to survey the depths of space and time. Another is…to hold communion with other living things.”

Wow. That really struck a chord with me, and it occurred to me that maybe I became a fantasy author for the same reasons that I became a scientist – the desire to explore the limits of space and time, and the desire to commune with other living things.

A generation later, in 1984, one of my heroes in the field of ecology, Edward O. Wilson (known as “Captain E.O.” to entomologists worldwide), popularized what he called the ‘biophilia hypothesis’. Wilson defines biophilia as “the connections human beings subconsciously seek with the rest of life” – wording that very closely resembles one of the ‘primordial desires’ identified by Tolkien.

I find it fascinating that these two men from different periods and very different walks of life should have come to such similar conclusions about one of the foundations of human desire. Writing fantasy fiction is one of the ways that I can not only fulfill these ‘primordial desires’, but also share in their fulfillment with others, both readers and fellow authors.

Wilson, interestingly enough, also recognizes the connection between one mode of exploration and the other:

"I have argued...that we are human in good part because of the particular way we affiliate with other organisms. They are the matrix in which the human mind originated and is permanently rooted, and they offer the challenge and freedom innately sought....I offer this as a formula of reenchantment to invigorate poetry and myth: mysterious and little known organisms live within walking distance of where you sit. Splendor awaits in minute proportions."

Splendor in my world, splendor in my books.

That’s one answer I can give to the question "Why fantasy?", and it’s enough, I think, for a single blog post.

I do have a couple questions for you before I finish:

What do you like (or dislike) about fantasy fiction?

And, more importantly, what topics would you like to see discussed on a blog dedicated to fantasy fiction, and especially women in fantasy fiction?

Thanks for stopping by! We look forward to reading your thoughts and comments. While you're with us, make sure you check out our Grand Opening Raffle and register to win your free signed copy of Eolyn. The drawing will be on October 1, 2011.

--posted by Karin Rita Gastreich