Fantasy

The First Story

~ Donald J. Lund

Did you ever wonder how some of those first epic tales were born?  Do you ever ask how some of those ancient stories that have retold countless times and still remain inspirational elements of modern sagas came to be?

Classics like Gilgamesh, Beowulf, The Iliad and The Odyssey to name a few of the very first stories that have stayed with us for many centuries.

I often think back to those old tales and how they came to be, and if you don’t, I get it.  Some of the classics are told in a different style, not every scene includes the action of a modern hero’s tale.  However, if you do wonder about such things, we are kindred spirits.

I love stories.

All kinds of stories.  After so many readings of each story, I then find myself trying to be the author, the creator, the storyteller and imagine the mindset of those incredible imaginations.

I think it means I love telling stories as much as reading or hearing them.

I recall my very first epic.

It was told in the oral tradition, like many of my Celtic ancestors, and I relayed the tale my cousins in my grandparents’ backyard during one fateful summer.  I was probably seven years old at the time, and I started my career as on-demand storyteller.

Two of my cousins and my then four-year old brother occupied what looked like a normal backyard on a particularly hot summer day.  But it was far more than a normal yard.  It was a land of adventure.

And that particular day, it was ancient homeland to the happy green grasshoppers. A once happy land that had become a war zone.

I didn’t know it was a war zone myself until one of my cousins asked me about a number of wonderfully gross grasshopper exoskeletons that were stuck to branches of some evergreen bushes that spanned the entire back fence.

The inquisitor this day was my cousin Lisa.  She, who is just barely over two months older than me, but boy, did she have a way of reminding me who was the oldest kid.  I don’t know how it is for kids these days, but in my era, age was like military rank. Whoever was the oldest generally got to be in charge. Other powers included the ability to break a tie in key little kid votes, how pieces of pizza were  to be dispersed and general boss of younger humans in the absence of adults.  It was simple math, the oldest among us was also deemed the wisest.

Darn those two months.

Anyway, her question to me was, “How did those ghostly looking grasshopper remains get stuck onto those branches?

“Grasshopper Wars,” I cooly replied.

“Grasshopper Wars?” she questioned.

Of course, those were not exoskeletons to your less than humble storyteller.  Those were all that was left of dead grasshopper soldiers in a gruesome ongoing conflict.

“Oh, yes.  It has been especially brutal this summer.  Do you see all of the happier, smaller green grasshoppers around? “There used to be twice as many of them last week.”

“Wow. What happened?”

“The big, brown mean grasshoppers nearly wiped them out. And without our help, the green grasshoppers may not survive the day,” I explained.

At this point, my cousin Cristy looked for some kind of verification from my brother Jeff.  And, my brother had pretty much heard most of my stories in his four years of existence. Some of them liked, some not so much.

He looked at me in a way that let me know, he wasn’t buying into it.  But it was summer, my story seemed like it was off to a good start — and I watched him decide by the change in his facial expression, that he was ready for more.  So, he nodded his head in the affirmative.

My first Hollywood pitch had just been approved.

And the set – or I mean the backyard cooperated in a way far better than I thought possible.  There were indeed many more grasshoppers the week before.  The summer had witnessed a plague of the insects after a very wet spring.  My grandparents had sprayed the yard and there were a number of fallen grasshoppers in and around the yard.

From the war of course.

We were able to investigate different parts of the battleground to discover more ghostly looking exoskeletons, grasshopper bodies and some big, brown mean grasshoppers, caught in the act of invasion.  We jumped into the combat zone ourselves and captured brown grasshoppers and threw them into the neighbor’s yard, which happened to be the ancient tribal lands of those brown grasshoppers.

With a few brave humans on their side, we managed to liberate much of the captured green grasshopper territory.  The victories added up, but not without a cost.

We mourned the loss of some of the fallen greens. Those poor grasshoppers that did not die of any kind of pesticide, but we killed in the line of duty.  We gave them a proper burial and the day went quickly as I described the history of this epic struggle at various corners of the yard.

The day grew hot, and all the warriors became weary.  Someone foraged for lemonade inside the barracks. We soldiered on.

A lone cricket was found, and we could not determine which side it was on.  The wisest among us decided we should chase it off.  Just in case.  If the cricket weighed in with the brown grasshoppers, it could be a factor.

Spiders were easy.  They were the nemesis of both humankind and grasshopper kind, and as such, spiders were dispatched on sight.

We were young, but we were no fools.

My brother added several gruesome details all on his own and the story took off on a life of its own.  Somewhere near dinner time, a nod and wink to my brother was intercepted by the wisest among us.

“Hey, I saw that. Is this story really real?” Lisa demanded.

“Yes,” I offered meekly, my brother nodded in the affirmative on cue.

Cousin Cristy’s faith was shaken and she appealed to a higher authority for her confirmation, well beyond her sister, breaking the chain of command.  That’s when our grandmother shut it all down, “Grasshopper wars? Don’t be ridiculous!”

Genius is born on the back of being ridiculously daring.  Or so I hoped.  My tale was investigated further by the elders. What was the storyteller trying to accomplish?

Entertainment, of course.

“I was just explaining how a grasshopper exoskeleton got on a branch,” I said with defiant pride.

A really fun guess was the actual explanation.  And it was a very possible answer for a seven-year old.  We busted out the World Book Encyclopedias that evening to learn more of exoskeletons.  Sadly, no notes regarding the ill feelings of green versus brown grasshoppers were listed.

Looking back, I now feel like the great anonymous bard before me who saw the remains of a dinosaur and dreamed of dragons.  And then dreamed of the hero Beowulf brave enough to slay such a monster.

Some epics get all the love, others earn scrutiny, but our Grasshopper Wars remains an original from the summer of 1972.  Heroes we were, and so many green grasshoppers were truly saved, although they showed no real appreciation.

Skeptics be damned, it felt real and true at the time of the telling.

Truth it was for five glorious hours, and I was a Beowulf of sorts. A mini-Gilgamesh for a day.  And oh, like Odysseus, how bittersweet the homecoming.

And now it’s all just a story.

The first of many to come.

Is HBO Winning the Game of Thrones?

~ Donald J. Lund

No life of writer bits or anecdotes today.

It’s time for full on fandom madness and a chance to throw my own gauntlet down in this proverbial game of thrones.  And if my live studio audience has not completely caught up on either the books series or the television series, there be spoilers ahead.  Spoilers I say!

If you’ve not yet witnessed either the book or program, it’s not too late to jump into a dark, unpleasant fictional place where no one is safe.  Yes, this includes one of my all time favorite characters, the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Jon Snow.

As Cersei Lannister once proclaimed, “You either win or die at the game of thrones. There is no middle ground.”

Ever since Cersei’s caveat to the late, great Eddard Stark, the game appears to have far fewer pieces on the board in HBO’s Game of Thrones, their ambitious adaptation of George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series.  We’re five seasons in with two to go and the Internet is again in flames as angry fans combat one another in virtual reality regarding the television show, controversial cliffhangers and whether or not anyone will survive the series.

Since HBO set both network records and series records with 8.1 million viewers at the end of season five, it appears the pay channel is indeed winning the game of thrones.  I’m not so sure.  Despite the record numbers, I think there is a middle ground here as the producers of the program continue to drift from elements that made the books into best sellers.

HBO has won already for their specific mission to get eyes on the network, I just wonder if the series will stand the test of time as a quality representation of the source material.

Sure, choosing book over screen is a layup, an easy score for anyone who has read the stories and then watched the show.  I’m generally not one of those observers who always takes the side of the book.  I think both formats can uniquely add to our world of entertainment in their own way.  And of course, it is impossible to cover over 1.7 million words in five books — already nearly four times longer than Lord of the Rings, in fifty hours of television programming.

Ultimately, it is the scenes and characters the show has chosen to add or change in a world where they are unable to cover all the existing bases.

But let’s first join together for a moment.  For the first time, the viewers of the series are in essence caught up with the readers.  Sort of.  There are still some substantive elements the show may yet use that they skipped in the last couple of books.  That aside, several key moments were close enough to the books that offered drama to conclude season five.

Cersei’s horrifying walk of shame is pretty much an exact take from Martin’s series. And for as many evil things as she has done, she’s still human, and it was a tough scene to watch.   Daenerys Targaryen’s final bit was different, but close to where her situation is on the other side of the world and well, of course, there was Jon’s last scene.  Or will it be Jon’s last scene?

For the most part, George R.R. Martin’s dead characters stay dead, but we have a few  clues we can use to hold on to some hope.  Hope is in short supply in either incarnation of the story.  In the book, Jon calls for Ghost, his dire wolf.  And as Bran Stark has shown, some of the family has the ability to morph or merge consciousness with animals and other beings.  That and Melisandre, the red priestess favors Jon Snow quite a bit, if he still has breath in him, she may be able to save him.  Maybe.

That is if Eddard Stark is truly Jon’s father.  There are many hints in the books that suggest otherwise. Which brings me back to the critique phase.

The television program insists on multiple additional sex scenes, relationships and completely stapled on story elements, leaving history and dramatic build up in the dust.  So little of the back story has been introduced, television fans don’t even know some of the background mysteries yet to be solved.  The dire wolves, the ravens, the effects of the war on common folk are all key parts of the story often left out of the show.

Unless viewers have a series reader like me whining about it all the time.  I probably drive my wife crazy with all the extra details and differences. Luckily she hasn’t thrown the television remote at me.  Yet.

My biggest gripe is that the television show is flat out more misogynistic than the books.  Yes, absolutely horrible things happen to women and men in the books, it is plenty dark.  The Red Wedding is far more brutal in the books to me. However, there is no need to add rape scenes at Craster’s cottage beyond the Wall and dead naked prostitutes in King Geoffrey’s suite where they didn’t occur in the pages.  I understand it’s cable TV and naked women are a part of the HBO legacy, but there are enough existing story elements to reference versus feeling a bizarre need to add more.  A record number of added, extended brothel scenes to the screen as another example.  I’m a big fan of the female form, but if it doesn’t add value to the story, don’t constantly overdo it.

Horrible things may await Lady Sansa, but none of that stuff happened to her at all in the books at this point.  I’ve heard apologists argue these bad things and happen to her dear friend Jeyne in the books, but it was more telling than showing.

As to shock for the sake of shock value, it does look that what when you take shortcuts to get to the bigger scenes.  Tyrion’s journey after killing Tywin is much longer, and more difficult.  And some of those scenes from the book may ironically be ignored for political correctness.  Tyrion serves as Medieval entertainment along the way due to his physical stature, but the television audience will never understand how much he endured on his journey.

There, I have added my two copper pieces to the mix. As a fan of the Stark family, I should realize things rarely go my way. At least all of this controversy appears to be pushing book six of the series toward a possible release next spring.

Criticism aside, the program also provides some really cool and positive things to the world built by George.  One, they are generating curiosity about the books.  More readers is always a win.  Epic fantasy is entertaining millions of viewers, which is awesome.  The dragons look great, the sets are all incredible and the cast is near flawless.  The actors are the reason I will be back for more.

Brienne of Tarth is one such perfect casting and her role has been greatly enhanced with many big scenes, and almost all of it positive and interesting.  The episode Hardhome, the big zombie battle with the wildlings,  is vastly different than the books, but was extremely well done as it reminded viewers and readers alike what the real stakes are in this epic.

In the grand scheme of things, HBO has offered a wildly successful program to the world.  Because George R.R. Martin is a deliberate writer, they are going to win the race to the end of the story, and it may be completely unique to the end of the books.  HBO will win the race, but perhaps lose the battle of storytelling in this game of thrones.

I Saw Her Standing There

~ Donald J. Lund

Not all of the lyrics from that Beatles’ classic apply here, but it works.

In the midst of finishing this first novel sized fiction, a story I started on paper over a decade ago, I had never “seen” my protagonist.  That was until yesterday afternoon when I was looking over art to add to my Pinterest boards.  Yes, Pinterest, but I can explain that later.  The fun part was stumbling upon a physical representation of my warrior female protagonist.  I can share her ‘real’ name later, when I am a bit closer to release.  I would hate to see the character name used a few dozen more times before the book gets out the door.

That aside, I wasn’t looking specifically for her, but it is about time to find an artist and commission a cover for this novel.  The concept of trying to describe a character that has been adventuring around in my brain for ten years plus is a complicated thing.  While her first substantive tale is being transcribed onto the computer, in my imagination, she has vanquished many a foe since then.  I realized that while I can write down a description, the visual perception can be vastly different when I hand off my notes to an artist.

So, it was pretty cool to be going through a number of renditions of women in battle armor — some armor was barely there, some was a bit fanciful, but the very practical looking battle gear was what I was looking for, when she appeared among   the screens I was flipping through.  While her hair as a shade darker than I imagined, the shadow could account for that, and she was five years older than she is in this story, it was her, The Last Duchess of Soahren.

It is an amazing thing to see my hero become real.

Now I have something I can send off to a cover artist as a full on starting point, minus the years and hair, plus the unique stylings of each artist will still evolve the original reference point, but it sure is a fun start.

I had to admit, until I found that tangible evidence, I still had some doubts about going with this as my first story to share with the planet.  Of the four other projects I have going or had already written, all of them included male protagonists.  And, I think some of them are more unique than my Duchess’ heroes journey, but the world has a pretty good pile of dude warrior stories on the shelf.

Again, this was something I started a long time ago, before cool animated features like Brave.  Xena on television did a great job as well, but we still can’t seem to get Wonder Woman back on the small screen or the big screen.  Apparently, she will show up with all the other guys in the next Superman/Batman/Justice League film, just not on her own terms.

And I don’t have daughters who need to be inspired by any of my fictional machinations, although I do have a bunch of nieces, all who have the potential to be badass lead characters of their own lives.  Maybe they will see something they enjoy in this adventure.

Ultimately, I just don’t see enough cool women kicking down doors.

The world is getting closer, and I’m willing to help.  This story isn’t political in that way, I’m merely writing the type of medieval fantasy style story I didn’t see growing up.  Inspired in part by all the strong women who were and are positive influences in my life.  Chief among them, my mom, my grandmother, my aunt, and of course, my wife, who all kick in doors as required.

One more strong, fictional woman may not change the world, but it is a lot of fun to watch her change her world.  Now that I saw her standing there, I can barely wait for other people meet her too.

One Tolkien To Rule Them All

~ Donald J. Lund

I think anytime the total number of books sold wanders within range of holy books, the work speaks for itself.  While it is always dangerous to equate quality with popularity, connecting with over 150 million readers is a pretty big deal.

But I’m very biased in this case.

J.R.R. Tolkien not only built a world of fantasy and philosophy, filled with various races, monsters, languages and lands — his combination of poetry, riddles, song, epic battles and the good hearted conquering impossible evil odds helped to build and shape my world as well.

When I looked up some information on the website Tolkien Books, I was surprised to discover the series had sold only 171,000 copies in the first decade of publication.  I found it interesting the series gained substantial ground in subsequent decades, before finding a place in everyday culture with mega blockbuster movies and all.

Interesting, yet unsurprising since it was so not cool to admit you were reading fantasy novels in the early 1980’s.  Or worse, to play the fantasy games inspired by Tolkien at that time either.  Oh sure, nerds rule the world now, it just took a while.

Admittedly, fantasy can still be considered an intellectual stepchild when contrasted with other fiction genres, but the impact of the The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings on the modern world cannot be ignored.  When jokes about hobbits and precious power rings make it to late night talk show monologues, even the most ardent critics have little room to marginalize Tolkien’s epic.

Whether read as an analog to industry and technology sweeping nature aside, or a unique way to show the effects of racism among peoples, or the need to unite against a great threat are all reasons to love the work beyond the Elvish riddles written above doorways.   If you enjoy it because it was a classic hero’s journey, or a story of redemption for the grandson of a failed king, there many paths to take in this massive adventure through Middle Earth.

I think Tolkien saw a lot of what I see in the world.  I believe his writing connects because anyone alone in a forest, with any kind of imagination can begin to see the trees move on their own. If we stay too long in those woods we can almost see shadowy creatures stirring beneath piles of pine needles or hear unmistakably supernatural sounds in the dark, as the sun fades away.

I love that Tolkien loved Beowulf and Le Morte d’Arthur, which were two amazing stories I later discovered and read because of the influence of Lord of the Rings.  I later found Robert E. Howard, Anne McCaffery, Stephen R. Donaldson, Raymond Feist, George R.R. Martin and Patrick Rothfuss due to my first adventures with swords like Sting, that would glow when evil orcs and goblins drew too near.

Fantasy and myth have always been more than escapism to me, they reflect the human spirit as “realistically” as any kind of storytelling.  As the wise Neil Gaiman once said, “Fairy tales are more than true – not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten.”

One of my dragons is thinking it may not be possible to write anything closely resembling a saga the likes of Tolkien.  But knowing his work kicked open the proverbial Elven door, allowing my imagination to produce some unique adventures as well, then I shall take little hobbit steps forward on my own.

After all, while Tolkien dreamed up everything from maps of new worlds to giant spiders, I doubt he imagined his words would be purchased 150 million times and counting.

What A Novel Idea

~ Donald J. Lund

Or, what next?

The nice little blog is kicked off, where everything from favorite authors to silly movies can be discussed.  A place to talk ideas, inspirations, progress or lack of progress, it can all appear here.  This area will certainly offer us the the best of Tymes, and the worst of Tymes.

Now for all the stuff that happens between these ramblings — it is starting to gather some momentum.  I had previously offered concern about being trapped in the first genre that finds some level of publication, yet, an initial story must be sent out into the world.  Adventures hiding away in desk drawers or computer hard drives will not ever be discovered.  Protagonists’ bold moves against crafty villains cannot forever lurk in the darkness, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, etc.

I was taught by a very cool playwright I know, that I should always multi-task. Specifically, that I work on multiple projects in various phases.  That way I am editing one story, plotting another and flat out stream of conscious writing another.  That way, if I get stuck on one idea, I can edit or fix another, or plan for a new short story contest deadline, yet always stay productive.  My professor and a couple of my favorite writer’s do not believe in writer’s block, and I shall follow that path.

Ultimately, I selected one science fiction short story that I’ve had for a while to edit and repair. And for the first book, I’m going with a fantasy novel. When I run out of ideas on the book, I just to the crime noir piece for fun, or the tedious edit of my western from a screenplay to manuscript.

It was brutal picking my fantasy story over my crime fiction novel, and the western for first one to completion.  I love and fear all three future books equally.  The initial effort to go out the front door has to be solid enough to push this beyond a cute hobby for the old writer guy. Or so says the ego.

The fantasy story won because my female protagonist called to me the most.  But I have to admit, anything fantasy I wanted to shy away from, because it is one of my beloved genres.  When I think of elves and dwarves, they are J.R.R. Tolkien’s, not mine.  Fallen knights are George R.R. Martin’s and not mine.  The dragons I see in the skies are Anne McCaffery’s and not mine.  The shadows in the dark still belong to Robert E. Howard and not me.  And the magician I see is Raymond Fiest’s Pug, and not mine.

So, I backed off a high fantasy concept the book originally held. Instead I have generated a character driven piece far closer to a medieval vibe with some hints at fantasy elements.  I am merely an apprentice on this day, and not quite ready to challenge my masters of epic fantasy just yet.

However, the setting does include knights, the political intrigue of monarchy, lots of fire, swords and a really, really bad guy I like a lot. Female protagonists are more plentiful these days, yet, still somewhat rare in the medieval/fantasy books I’ve seen.  Mine is pretty cool, I like her resilience the most, and she reminds me of me and how fast I had to grow up.  While too young to be a Red Sonja prototype or not yet cynical enough to be a Beatrix Kiddo type from Kill Bill, she is a tough kid.  I am cheering for her to win the day.

I’ve gone through three working titles over time, and spent way too many hours trying to find one I like well enough, since I have to see it everyday.  It had a latin title at one point, which is cool, but I seemed to be the only one who knew what it meant, that’s not good.  Then it was a super generic title I hated — no title with princess in the name worked for me.  Besides, Princess Bride haunts my brain in a good way.

After overthinking it too much, my book is currently called, The Last Duchess of Soahren.  Well, it at least sounds slightly better than Duchess Badass, but she kind of is.

The outline is complete, the ending is my favorite part, the cool flashback scene has been added, and I should have a manuscript ready to go through copy editing over the next month.  With some luck and good cover art, the query letter will follow.  The odds are generally against literary agent love at this stage, but I will attempt to find it.  Should that falter, then self-publishing, both hardcopy and digital via Amazon is the backup plan.

All easier said of course, than done, but my substantive first foray as a storyteller should be shared one way or another this summer.