I took a random sentence, used it as the first line in a story and wrote for five minutes. This is what I got.
I didn’t know until that moment that Nell was so afraid of Spiders.
“What the hell!”She screamed and threw the box at me.It hit the floor and a spider the size of a small puppy scampered out and hid behind the couch, whimpering.
“You hurt her!”I said, scooping the enormous arachnid up into my arms.
“What is that thing, Mark?”Nell shouted with her back against the wall.“Why is it in my birthday present?”
“It’s called a dragon spider.I bought her off of an old man at a gas station.I figured that since your roommate is allergic to dogs you could have her as a pet.”
“You think Rebecca would be okay with having that….thing around?”
“It’s not a thing, it’s a dragon spider.The old man said that they’re rare and magical animals.They’re incredibly faithful and intelligent and bring their owners good luck.”I placed the dragon spider on the ground and she scurried around my feet, rubbing up against my legs.“The old man said that their web can be used to cure any disease and that they can sense people who are hurt or hungry and bring them help.He also said that there are three rules to owning a dragon spider.The first is that you can’t let them eat after midnight.The second is-.”
“DIE!”Rebecca screemed and ran at the Dragon Spider with a dictionary the size of a cinder block.The spider had just enough time to cringe in terror before she began smashing the book on top of it.Rebecca continued to crush the animal until it was just a brown and green stain on the floor.
When she was done, Rebecca stood up and growled, “Only one spider rule in my house.They all go to hell!”
Greg closed his eyes, took a deep breath and jumped.
He clung onto his homemade hang glider. For a second it flew steadily through the air. Then the frame cracked. Greg torpedoed down to the sidewalk below.
The next thing he knew Greg was in a gray void before a man holding a long scroll.
"Hello!" The man looked up at him. "Probably should have chosen a smaller building?"
"I guess." Greg tried to scratch his nose but realized he was made out of mist.
"Well, the good news is your dead." The man grinned. "Now the question is what to do with you."
"Do I get to go to heaven?"
"Oh no! You're not ready for that. Maybe in a few more lives. I'm afraid we're going to have to send you back. Do you have any preferences?"
"A movie star would be nice."
The man looked through his scroll. "Unfortunately, you didn't live the kind of life where I can justify making you a movie star. Remember Julie? You probably shouldn't have called off the wedding via text message. In fact, considering your road rage you won't even be able to go back human."
"What about a bird? I've always wanted to fly."
"Absolutely," the man looked over his scroll. "Your options are ostrich, kiwi or....penguin."
My friend, Mel P., suggested this first line to me. I wrote for five minutes. This is what I got. (If you have any suggestions for prompts let me know.)
"Henry knew it was only a matter of time before they found him."
Holding his breath, he peeked out of the cupboard beneath the sink. There were footsteps. Henry pulled back.
He heard the boys run into the kitchen. Brandon growled, "Where is that little snot?"
Henry clutched his bottle and prayed that the boys would go away.
One of the other boys said, "I'll look out back, you guys check out the rest of the house." He heard their footsteps running away.
Henry pulled himself out of the cupboard and stood in the middle of the kitchen. He was trapped. One of them was in the backyard. The others would hear him if he tried to unlock the back door. Becomming desperate, Henry spun around and almost crashed into Billy, Brandon's brother.
Billy was clutching his teddy bear and sucking his thumb. Henry crouched down in front of Billy and whispered, "Hey you know what would be really cool? If there was a door right there leading outside!" He shoved the bottle into the boy's arm. "Why don't you wish there was a door right there in that wall?"
"Hey butt face!" Brandon shouted running into the room. He grabbed Henry by the collar and shoved him into the refrigerator. "You stupid genie! When my sister wished that she was the greatest music entertainer in the world she didn't want you to turn her into Michael Jackson! Now turn her back!"
My friend, Chris C., suggested this first line to me. I wrote for five minutes. This is what I got. (If you have any suggestions for prompts let me know.)
“Pliny had never had any objections about defying emperors.” Especially since most of the emperors in his house only ruled over rooms or cupboards. While Pliny got dressed for school the emperor of his closet would hold up his scepter and bellow, “I demand you pay taxes for entering my domain!” Pliny would just roll his eyes while the Emperor ordered his socks to attack him.
There was one emperor Pliny did fear, though, the emperor of the basement.
“He’s not that bad!” Pliny’s mom said one afternoon.
“He orders the mice to bite me and makes the furnace breath fire and he’s read all the National Geographics Dad put down there so he’s really smart!” Pliny whined.
“I am tired of your excuses, Pliney. Now, go downstairs and dust that basement!”
Before Pliney had even reached the bottom of the basement steps the emperor leapt out of the box of toys they kept in the corner “Who dares trespass?”
“It’s just me,” Pliney sighed. “My mom wants me to dust down here.”
The emperor pointed at the boy. “A spy! Who sent you?”
“I told you! My-.” He stopped, thought about his answer for a moment and then said, “The attic emperor sent me to spy on you. He’s thinking about declaring war and said you’re too stupid and fat to do anything about it!”
“We’ll see about that!” The emperor snarled and gathered his advisors together. Pliney dusted and listened to them plot. Then he went over to his friend’s house (which only had a prime minister of the garage).
When Pliney returned that evening he discovered that the sparrows and armies of old clothes from the attic were fighting the mice and baby toy armies from the basement. Alliances had been made so the bathroom navy was now involved along with the bed covers from the spare bedroom. By dinnertime it was a full out house war.
Pliney’s father groaned, “I have to wear the same tie to work tomorrow because the rest of mine were drafted.”
His mother complained, “We were going to have steak but my frying pan has been taken a political prisoner.”
His big sister grumbled, “The TV room’s developed nuclear capabilities and Brad’s coming over tonight!”
Pliney slumped in his chair, ate his green beans and thought about how much better things would be if his Mom hadn’t made him dust the basement.
“Pliny had never had any objections about defying emperors.”Especially since most of the emperors in his house only ruled over rooms or cupboards.While Pliny got dressed for school the emperor of his closet would hold up his scepter and bellow, “I demand you pay taxes for entering my domain!”Pliny would just roll his eyes while the Emperor ordered his socks to attack him.
There was one emperor Pliny did fear, though, the emperor of the basement.
“He’s not that bad!”Pliny’s mom said one afternoon.
“He orders the mice to bite me and makes the furnace breath fire and he’s read all the National Geographics Dad put down there so he’s really smart!”Pliny whined.
“I am tired of your excuses, Pliney.Now, go downstairs and dust that basement!”
Before Pliney had even reached the bottom of the basement steps the emperor leapt out of the box of toys they kept in the corner“Who dares trespass?”
“It’s just me,” Pliney sighed.“My mom wants me to dust down here.”
The emperor pointed at the boy. “A spy!Who sent you?”
“I told you!My-.”He stopped, thought about his answer for a moment and then said, “The attic emperor sent me to spy on you.He’s thinking about declaring war and said you’re too stupid and fat to do anything about it!”
“We’ll see about that!”The emperor snarled and gathered his advisors together.Pliney dusted and listened to them plot.Then he went over to his friend’s house (which only had a prime minister of the garage).
When Pliney returned that evening he discovered that the sparrows and armies of old clothes from the attic were fighting the mice and baby toy armies from the basement.Alliances had been made so the bathroom navy was now involved along with the bed covers from the spare bedroom.By dinnertime it was a full out house war.
Pliney’s father groaned, “I have to wear the same tie to work tomorrow because the rest of mine were drafted.”
His mother complained, “We were going to have steak but my frying pan has been taken a political prisoner.”
His big sister grumbled, “The TV room’s developed nuclear capabilities and Brad’s coming over tonight!”
Pliney slumped in his chair, ate his green beans and thought about how much better things would be if his Mom hadn’t made him dust the basement.
I took a random sentence, used it as the first line in a story and wrote for five minutes. This is what I got.
Rosalie stifled her scream and cowered under the blanket.
The purple monster with spiked tentacles and twenty eyes slid across the floor toward her.The creature put its horned snout on the foot of the bed.“You know Rosalie, I’m really not that bad!”
“Yes you are!”Rosalie cried.“You live in my closet and eat the feet of little girls!”
“True, but there are much worse things in the world.Like, HIGH SCHOOL!”
Rosalie was quivering.“What’s that?”
“In high school they will teach you algebra and make you take showers in gym!You’ll grow acne and have to wear braces.All of your friends will stab you in the back.Everyone else will have a boyfriend, even Alicia McDermit!”
“That’s not true!”Rosalie whimpered.
“Then you’ll go to college and waste your time studying drama and philosophy!After that you’ll have to spend the rest of your life paying student loans.In this economy you won’t be able to find a job with decent benefits much less a 401K.You’ll spend the rest of your life in a miserable little cubicle listening to your co-workers complain about the weather while dreaming of someday getting your poetry published.”
Rosalie clenched her fists.“Oh, yeah? Well, what about this?”The little girl grabbed a crumpled sheet of paper off her bedside table.
The monster snarled, “Where did you get that?”
“My mommy made me clean out my closet, and I found this comedy routine written by you! It’s boring, trite and not nearly as cutting edge as you think!”
“It’s a satire!”The monster burst into tears.“Why doesn’t anyone understand that?People would get the jokes if they bothered to open a newspaper!But no I guess it’s more fun to boo the new guy at armature night!”Sobbing, the monster turned and slithered back into the closet, leaving Rosalie to sleep in peace.
My good friend Jon Balog recently interviewed me concerning my novel Edge Country.
Jon has written for Bmore Live, Punk Planet, The Sentimentalist, Jive, and romaexperience.com. His very enthusiastic article for crunchable.net can be read here and his guest blog for cheapoair.com can be read here.
Why is fantasy fiction important? Why should people care about creatures and places that don’t really exist?
Fantasy can be as important as realistic fiction when it makes points that are relevant to real life. It’s no secret that the best sci-fi/fantasy isn’t really about spaceships, talking animals or zombies. These books involve issues such as war and childhood (Ender’s Game), hate and apathy (Rot and Ruin) and the public’s obsession with the media (The Hunger Games). In a way, sci-fi/fantasy novels act as a funhouse mirror. They reflect our world but distort them so at first glance they appear to have nothing to do with reality
But let’s be honest. Most fantasy authors don’t start off writing novels to express ideas. They start because they have a story to tell, and it just so happens to contain fantastical elements. Fantasy is important to me personally because it’s the only thing I feel completely comfortable writing. There are tons of realistic stories I love reading, but ask me to write something grounded in reality, and it’ll go nowhere. Ask me to write a story that tackles realistic issues but involves talking animals, underground cities and psychotic demons and you’ll get the first chapter in an hour.
We often tell young authors to write what they know. This is excellent advice. However, it is often misunderstood. For example, young writers often know what it’s like to feel as though the world is against them. They could express these feelings through a realistic story (which is commendable). However, a writer could also express these feelings through a story about a lone survivor trapped in a city full of zombies. The author is still writing about what they know (feeling lost, betrayed, even victorious), they are just using different tools to get their points across.
You open Edge Country with a quote from Joseph Campbell. How did his ideas about myth and symbolism influence the book?
I would list Joseph Campbell’s book The Power of Myth as one of the top five influences on my novel. Mr. Campbell was a genius at finding similarities between mythologies. He could then connect these similarities to pop culture.
My narrator, Lee,spends the story living a double life between modern day America and Edge Country, a mythological world filled with talking animals and ancient spirits. Throughout the novel, Lee has to deal with backstabbing friends, heart breaking crushes, and a neglectful father. To a certain extent I wanted him to be an adolescent “everyman.” However, I also wanted to connect him with mythic heroes.
Odysseus could probably dropkick Lee, but the two share similar qualities. They are both trying to reach seemingly impossible destinations. They are both strongly influenced by love for their families. They both overcome their adversaries using trickery. In no way did I set out to base Lee on Odysseus (my character isn’t nearly as popular with the ladies) but Joseph Campbell’s book helped me find ways to connect my story and hero with those from other cultures and make them a part of a broader scope. I would recommend that all storytellers try this.
You’ve been open about the influence of Calvin and Hobbes. The parallels there are pretty obvious—both chronicle the adventures of young boys as they deal with the horrors of the real world, the horrors of the imagination, and the blurry place where the two worlds meet. One thing I’ve always liked about Bill Watterson is that he celebrated the wonders of youth, but said that he “never understood people who thought of childhood as an idyllic time of life.” How do you personally think of childhood?
I sometimes have a very cynical view of childhood. While I do have some great memories from growing up, childhood is also a time filled with uncertainty and fear. Children have little control over their lives. If an adult is unhappy they can often at least strive for improvement (assuming they are motivated). Children seldom have this opportunity. Also, people can get away with being crueler to little kids. If my boss was half as harsh as my second grade teacher he would be fired.
There are several similarities between Calvin and Hobbes and Edge Country. They are both about boys who experience the darker sides of growing up. Both boys are fish out of water among their own peers. This is in part because they have access to worlds no one else can experience. Similar to Calvin’s fantasy worlds, Edge Country has both positive and negative effects on Lee’s life. It offers refuge and friendship but also causes Lee to say and do things that confuse his mother, teachers and friends. Lee disrupts class to confront an adversary from Edge Country and he is often caught talking or arguing with individuals other humans cannot see.
Despite its heavy influence, there are some differences between the two works. There are few examples of Calvin having positive interactions with characters outside his personal world. While this was perfect for the strip, Lee spends most of Edge Country very aware of how his actions must look to others. Also, a great deal of the story involves Lee trying to find balance between Edge Country and the human world.
Another work I’d compare Edge Country to is Sam Kieth’s comic book The Maxx. The Maxx told the story of a man who spent half his life in an alternate reality. While definitely a work of fantasy, it addressed some very real-world issues, like homelessness, rape, teen suicide, and avoiding reality. Edge Country, likewise, deals with things like bullying, self hatred, double lives and abandonment.Was this at all in the back of your head while you were writing?
I would say that these themes were bouncing around in my subconcious, but I wasn’t completely aware of them until later rewrites. I’m always a few drafts into a project before I realize what the underlying issues are.
The only exception I can think of is that Edge Country was always about a boy leading a double life. I have read a lot of novels where the hero goes through the wardrobe/looking glass/train station platform and spends the rest of the book in the other world. I love these stories but wanted to write a novel where the hero moved back and forth between the mundane and fantastical and had to face challenges in each.
You say writing fantasy is the only thing that comes naturally to you. I'm always surprised to hear people say that, because it seems to me it should be the other way around. When you write something set in the real world, the pieces are already set up for you. With fantasy, you have to reinvent the whole game. Why do you think you're wired that way?
Keep in mind that I only write fantasy set in the modern world (or “contemporary fantasy”). Writing something in a Tolkien universe feels just as unnatural to me as writing something completely grounded in reality.
All of my stories are set in modern America with cars, laptops and iPods but the characters just happen to have access to talking animals and hidden worlds. As I mentioned earlier, the double life theme is enormous in my stories. My characters often have both grounded and fantastical sides of their lives. In a way I’m not completely creating my own worlds. I’m building them on the foundation of our world.
I honestly don’t know why I’m wired to write this way. What happens is that when I’m driving my car, hiking in the woods or staring into space, a story will hit me. It just so happens that almost all of these ideas belong in the contemporary fantasy genre. I guess you could psychoanalyze me but that always open up a messy can of worms. My best guess for why I write stories like Edge Country is because I love the juxtaposition between the mythic and the mundane. I can have my hero be tormented by bullies and face demons in the same chapter. In a way, having a down-to-earth setting will make the fantasy more relatable. Also I can draw connections like those between the demons and the bullies.
You said on the phone that there's nothing you love more than "spending a few hours at the end of the day working on my own world." Do you think there's something godlike in wanting to create your own fictional universe? Do you ever feel overwhelmed by the responsibility that entails, knowing that if you screw up once the whole thing could come crashing down?
To answer your first question: yes, I absolutely think there is a godlike feeling to creating my own universe. I don’t mean this as blasphemy, I’m just admitting that at times writing a novel does provide a sense of complete control.
However, when my writing is going well, the story controls me. I very often feel like the story is being told to me, and I’m just the one writing it down. For example, I recently wrote a chapter where the narrator is standing on the edge of a cliff. I planned for him to back away, but he jumped off the edge before I could stop him. I had no choice but to follow through. The jump was officially a part of the story (at least in this draft) and taking it out would be a lie.
As for your second question: I often feel overwhelmed by the complexity of plots and characters as well as the publishing world. However, I never feel overwhelmed by responsibility toward my universe. Early drafts won’t be perfect, there’s no way to get around that. There are moments when the universe does come crashing down, but I always build it back up again. I have complete faith that if I keep on working I’ll eventually get it right.
