Complete Clanarchy! Meet Our Heroes.

I don't want the Arbiter universe to revolve around a single protagonist. Still, there's something to be said for simplicity, and no matter how complex or convoluted the plot may become, it helps if the reader knows who to root for.

Enter the clan: if they're members, they're probably on the right team.

So who are they? Well, we're diving right into the deep end. I guess the simplest way is with a small geography lesson. In the Arbiter world, there is a kingdom whose eastern border is shared with a world-famous forest: the Dawnless Woods. As the name suggests, these woodlands never see sunlight. Incidentally, it's also a profoundly dangerous place. Why? We'll get to that later.

What you need to know is that "the clan" (working title, but it may stick)  is a nomadic tribe of refugees that migrate along the western edge of the Dawnless Woods (the eastern border of the kingdom). The clan are not official subjects of the kingdom, but the kindly monarch has left them to their peaceful ways ever since the first of them began to patrol the forest's edge.

The clan is made up of people from a wide variety of cultures. If someone were to accuse me of promoting the superiority of multicultural coexistence, I'd plead guilty. I think culture's like human reproduction: inbreeding's bad, mmmkay?

The impromptu founders fled a variety of circumstances and, having no safe place to go, decided to band together and create one. Since the clan is in such a remote area and since they are constantly on the move, it's profoundly difficult for any would-be pursuers to hunt them down. Even if they did, clan members can count on the protection of their fellow nomads.

I haven't fleshed out everything, obviously. I only have ideas for a few roles/members of the clan. I know they'll have no formal government (be still, thy anarchist loins), because that can work until the group grows too big. Though it won't be law, they'll have a tradition of every man and woman being a father and mother to every child; this is because they don't want any orphans to feel left out because they weren't born into the clan.

I've planned a character named Jedrek with some odd (to us) characteristics that are actually common within the clan: he doesn't know who gave birth to him, nor does he know exactly how old he is. In our society, we'd assume the kid has been bullied and/or has some emotional baggage, but since he's a member of this clan, nobody thinks twice about it. He's the norm.

There's a number of reasons this clan idea has me excited. First, it opens the door to having a ton of protagonists, thereby allowing the audience to pick their favorites and allow each favorite to have their shining moments. I hate when the moral of Harry Potter (okay, he's actually a terrible example for this) can be interpreted as 'boy, aren't we lucky that this guy was born so special.' I prefer the times when a group of individuals with conflicting personalities can get past their disdain for one another to achieve a common goal. Better yet if those characters possess traits that naturally predispose them to be enemies or would otherwise prevent them from contributing to a mutual goal. It allows for more tension, presents a satisfying obstacle to overcome and thereby makes victory that much more satisfying, and is rife with opportunities for comedic relief.

The clan also allows me to play with some cultural norms that don't work in our society. We covered some of that above, but the 'takes a village to raise a child' dynamic is only one among many. We touched on the 'monogamy is not enforced' idea in the last post. I'm intrigued to see what the issue may have looked like before we established the monogamy norm, and this feels like an opportunity to do that. I'm sure we've all been told something is really, really bad and reacted by thinking "I wasn't planning on doing that, but now I wonder what's so wrong about it." Y'know, things like "don't eat non-kosher food, don't date your cousin, don't swear, don't treat your child's terminal condition because Jesus will get angry and refuse to heal them if you do."

Every taboo has a reason, surely. Some (no cousin dating) make sense, others (Jesus hates medicine) aren't good reasons, but they're reasons all the same. With the clan, I feel like we can make some parables to explore some of these things.

Finally, as weird as this is gonna sound, I think there's some opportunity for some The Walking Dead-flavored survivalism here. I think we're drawn to the whole zombie genre because survival in a world without establishment is scary and intriguing and each day that survival is achieved feels like a victory. With the beasties lurking in the Dawnless Woods and the mechanics of magic, I think we can have a lot of fun by taking some cues from the post-apocalyptic genre and applying them to fantasy. The loose-knit interactions of the clan should fit the lawless + monsters vibe of the survival horror genre well - though I think we'll avoid going as gruesome as those stories tend to.

So what are we thinking? Did this rough outline of this nomadic people spark your imagination in any way? Were there any vague 'oh, I like this idea, because you could try THIS idea with it!' moments? Are there any social/religious taboos you'd like to see explored? And are there any story tropes or nomadic stereotypes you think I'm in danger of committing? Throw me some of them bones, friends!

Romancing the Stones? No, that Plural Causes Problems...

Why do people feel the urge to bring elephants indoors? Once you bring an elephant into a room, you either can't shut anyone up about the damn thing, or everyone refuses to acknowledge it's even there.

Irrelephant. Yes, I've had my fun now...

It's hard to find fiction without some level of romance in it. Particularly in the west! We've got some cultural aversion to talkin' about bonin', and that seems to translate into a need for outlets like Harlequin and damsel-in-distress action movies and Sarah Jessica Parker. It's probably indicative of some serious problems. True to form, I'm gonna refuse to address those problems!

Not only am I thinking there will be a romantic element to Arbiter, I'm thinking of making a pretty grand experiment out of it. I plan to populate the world with a ton of characters and cultures, so it's only natural they'd want to hook up with one another. It's also only natural that this wouldn't always follow the Disney formula - same-sex couples, polygamy/polyandry, involuntary bethrothals/political marriages, and most prominently, the clan's marriage-less (inspired by the Mosuo, but not a mirror of their) culture.

"What clan?" you ask? That's right, we haven't talked about them yet, have we! Well, I know what's on the agenda next week.

Contrary to what strangers would probably accuse me of, this won't be an attempt to promote a non-monogamous agenda in the real world. Like the concept of magic, it's just a theme to explore what a society might look like if this thing was done this certain way.

Plus, think of how this could give birth to a good arc - things might get messy if a couple who aren't supposed to love each other are exposed to the public. Plus, jealousy is always a plausible motive for chaos and bad deeds.

And if a certain culture's approach to love starts to seem appealing, and thereby people wanna accuse me of trying to promote it in the real world, all the better: controversy is a great way to promote a story!

Awh, that's cute; li'l Gordo wants to pretend he has any idea how to sell a book!

Whatcha think? Ever wonder why, as a society, we're so obsessed with one-on-one love? Is there another way to do it that intrigues you more than any other? And can you think of any other franchises that have experimented with this sort of thing? Do share!

Pretense on the Premises! Requesting Backup, Over.

When pitching one's story to the powers that be, the ability to communicate its premise (quickly!) is essential. Agents and editors are inundated with would-be bestsellers, so when auditioning to these jaded scouts, you don't have a lot of time. You need to highlight the ways your book is unique, but at the same time, you need to convince them it will appeal to an existing market. It's exactly as schizophrenic as it sounds.

Aspiring to be an author is a terrible idea! Too late, better judgment overridden.

My natural mode of operation was to daydream until seemingly-random 'wouldn't that be cool?!' action sequences married themselves to some ideal or moral - one which I think the world would be better for, if more people embraced it - and then start crafting that mixture into a story.

Thus, The Agnostic Crusade was born. That was fun, but the only hope it has left is to be reincarnated as a superior species. Its career is dead! Learn and move on.

Winkle² has some good ideas, knows what it's supposed to be, and has received a whole lot of honing. So much so that we're exhausted with it. We have a better idea of the finish line, but we've come so far and it still feels so far away! Best we take a breather.

Arbiter isn't so far into the process yet. I know enough to say it's a fantasy project in which magic is approached scientifically. But that's not all I want to be different about it; even if it was, I'd sure as hell need a better way of saying it. Let me give you an example.

Death Note is a famous manga/anime (yep. Japan!). It's a thriller about a killer who possesses the ultimate weapon: a notebook that kills any person whose name is written in it. Much more specific, yeah? I personally (and mistakenly) hated it when I first heard the premise, but there's no denying: you understand why it would make a compelling story. I personally thought there was no way any killer with a brain could lose with such a weapon. Turns out, I was naive. The entire series is on the razor's edge!

I'm still working on what makes Arbiter unique - both in terms of coming up with something unique and expressing what's already unique in words. In the meantime, you can help! What stories 'had you at x' (where x is the summary, the description on the back of the book, or the 'hook')? And while I know we've only discussed magic, beasties, and fancy death animations so far, but is there anything about it you can say sets it apart from other fantasy?

Probably not yet, but we'll get there! I guess this is a challenge to myself: work towards a coherent premise!

Git yer Stakes outta mah Steak! Hyperbolic Collateral

I know, the title isn't too clear. This one's about what the heroes have to lose if they fail. Obviously, this is usually the world/the galaxy/the universe/existence itself, and that's the issue I want to avoid.

I understand why it's done. The most recent experience I've had with it was Guardians of the Galaxy (the stakes are right there in the name!). All things considered, I don't have much to complain about. If I were to grade it, it would be a B+ or A-, and I don't think I'm a lenient critic. The things I'd change would probably have prevented the movie from being made, if you think about it. All the same...

The premise is: our hero stumbles across a weapon with the potential to eliminate all life, and after a series of unlikely coincidences, he and an unlikely band of anti-heroes must prevent the antagonist from committing genocide with it.

It's a Marvel movie. Disney owns the rights to this one. These empires have experienced some 'growing up' over the years; they've made some things that aren't for kids. Still, they're not stupid by any stretch, and they know what kind of story appeals to the broadest possible audience. This movie has lots of things it takes a grown-up to understand, but because it's always clear that somebody's trying to 'destroy the galaxy,' kids are going to be able to understand that the good guy's doing a good thing because nobody who's even kind of good is going to destroy the galaxy. To put it simply, having huge stakes is a surefire way to make sure your audience is never lost, because they never have to question why the hero is trying so hard.

There are no problems until you start over-thinking the plot, which is the razor's edge the screenwriter has to walk. If you make it too complex, the kids get bored; if it's not complex enough, the adults lose their ability to suspend their disbelief. In Guardian's case (not pickin' on em, they're just recent!), it's hard to believe that the only two parties who know the location of the all-destructive infinity stone are a terrorist paramilitary faction and a small-time outlaw. It's a total buzzkill of an observation, but that's the problem: the bigger the stakes, the more of these plot holes you'll find.

Alright, elephant in the room. Yes, this was a movie about a universe that's always on the verge of collapsing.  It's hard to say it represents the majority of fiction. But that doesn't mean we can't learn from it! Because while Marvel movies might not make the best comparison for a fantasy project, but they are perhaps THE most apt example of the main reason you want to evaluate your stakes:

Longevity. Any time you have a series, you've got the long-term to consider. Every time your hero wins a battle, you're going to have to prove that the next trial will be harder, because it's not interesting if it's easy. If you start with somebody capable of destroying everything, it's not easy for the audience to comprehend how the next guy can also destroy everything only it would be MORE DESTROYED this time!

If the hero starts with something smaller, like 'saving their best friend,' the audience can understand why they'd want to risk themselves for their friend. They'll also understand the next threat is worse because it threatens the hero's family. Then their neighbor's family, then their bridge club, on and on. It's important to consider your stakes, because if you think about what we love about stories, one of the big answers is 'growth.' We like to grow with the hero, or if we're older than them, we like to watch them grow up, and either satisfy the nurturer in us or reminisce about when we went through something similar. So when we're considering what the hero's risking, we need to remember that they need room to grow!

To be fair, this guy never needs to graduate from 'elephant protection.' Some things just don't need justifying.

So have I wasted your time on a pet peeve, or do you agree? Do you think too much fiction starts at 'of course we're going to save the world!' Do you prefer being able to identify the 'good guys' and 'bad guys' right away, or do you like things ambiguous? Because if the stakes are smaller, we might have to ask whether the heroes are really doing the right thing; am I alone in liking that kind of conflict? Finally, give me some examples of your favorite reasons for fighting; what stories do you think gave a particularly compelling or different reason for the protagonists to face the odds?

Darwin Be Praised! Mythical Beasties.

Fantasy hasn't pulled many punches when it comes to things we wish were real. Magic, spirits, Rivendell, unicorns, Liv Tyler; the list goes on. While fireballs and winguardium leviosa and such are probably first when we think of good fantasy concepts, griffins and bigfeet might come next.

The tradition of inventing new creatures is obviously a long one. Because life would suck if we weren't all trying to one-up each other, tales of tigers and bears and sharks got old a long time ago. At first, we just tried to make real beasts bigger, a la the Lion of Nemea, Jonah's whale, or the Big Bad Wolf. Things got more fun when people came up with ogres, dragons, and chupacabras, though.

What really separates the 'magic' and 'mythical beast' categories for me is the intent behind the inventions. While there are certainly exceptions, magic usually seems to be there as a source for making the story end happily ever after, whereas the beasties are there to scare our bowels clean. For every benign fairy or genie, there's a cockatrice, a beholder, and a jabberwocky to make sure the scales always lean towards dirty underwear.

The power behind these campfire creations is pretty undeniable. It's why so much reality TV involves hunting for things that aren't real; some of us want these abominations to be true so badly that we keep the real monsters (looking ANGRILY at you, Finding Bigfoot and Ghost Hunters) in business. We've all been there; I remember being simultaneously fascinated and terrified of the Thunderbird folklore and scanning the skies of Delta for them. Thanks for getting that out of the way before I turned eight, Delta North Elementary School librarian.

The hipster/one-upsman part of me wants to make original monsters for Arbiter just for the sake of being able to claim originality. The pragmatic part of me wants to make original monsters so I can capitalize on people's phobias (irrational fears, on the off chance you needed a reminder). I'm gonna indulge both these parts and more, so why don't you guys help me along, too?

I want to compile a list of common phobias and make monsters to embody them. Yeah, I know, sounds completely sadistic, right? Does it make it any better when I say we can have characters overcome these schadenfreudian abberations and thereby maybe help people overcome their own fears? Yeah, probably not. Oh well, let's indulge in our sadistic sides!

What might an aichmophobia (fear of sharp objects) monster look like? Is there a way to make an anginaphobia (fear of choking) monster without venturing into Japanese erotica territory? To get more challenging by going abstract, how might you make a monster that embodies someone's hypochonria (fear of disease)? The idea is that most people have images in their mind that evoke these fears, and that we can make more interesting organisms by harnessing those images into living creatures. Even if most people don't possess these phobias, maybe we can help the majority understand the minority if a normal person is introduced to the mental image that scares the guy with the phobia.

Plus, I think such variety in monsters can help us create some great Captain Ahab-style characters. Take the old Loch Ness Monster, for instance. Where would we be if the Demoman hadn't lost his eye trying to kill Nessie?

Not in any world I'd want to live in, that's for sure.

So help me out; if memory serves, this will be the first time I've ever asked such a favor. Think you can make a monster? Try and describe (or, if you're so inclined, illustrate for us!) a mythical beast that embodies something more abstract (it doesn't have to be a phobia, it can be 'love' or something gay like that, too!). Go further into the nerdy depths: describe its habitat or hunting grounds, diet, or the sadistic way in which it stalks and kills its prey!

Ideally, I want a rich and enormous environment, so crowdsourcing this sort of thing seems like a genius way to make it richer. C'mon now, volunteer to be the chimps for my room full of typewriters. Let's make ourselves a bestiary!

Mary Sue Gets Around (If You Know What I Mean)

First, I should clarify. "Mary Sue" is a literary concept; here's a definition that I can't add much to. I'll try, though: through a correlation with the 'unrealistic consequences' of a Mary Sue character or story, Mary Sues are usually based on the author or people within the author's life. To simplify it even further, Mary Sues always win and because they always win, writers insert ourselves into the story because WE want to always win.

Some (in)famous examples are Bella from Twilight, Superman, Wesley Crusher in Star Trek: The Next Generation, James Bond, and Bella from Twilight again. Seriously, Bella's editor-in-chief of the official Mary Sue magazine. Well, she would be, if I hadn't just made it up.

It's so not fair that Bella tops the list, but she so does. Look, it wasn't my idea, blame Google!

It isn't difficult to imagine why people would create Mary Sue fiction; we all have our fantasies, and writing Mary Sue provides us with an outlet. It isn't difficult to comprehend what makes some Mary Sue fiction successful; if an author creates a story around a fantasy that lots of people share, then those people all have an outlet! It also isn't difficult to understand why people hate on Mary Sue; if you can't relate to a specific Mary Sue, then we have a knee-jerk 'oh, grow up!' reaction to all the people who love to watch Bella's dreams come true.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is: Mary Sue isn't difficult. In fact, she's kind of easy! (hey-oh)

Let's face it, without Mary Sue, we wouldn't have an industry. Fast and Furious grosses higher than There Will Be Blood for a reason, a reason involving fast driving and hottie-bangin'. By NOT exploring shallow characters, we can easily switch places with the main character, and then it's like we're the ones going on the adventure.

So what does any of this have to do with Arbiter? I doubt most authors ask themselves 'do I want to employ Mary Sue in this story?' when they sit down to write it. As it turns out, I DO find myself asking that. While I expect most people only find out what Mary Sue is after someone accuses them of it, I feel like I have one up by never having been stung by such an insult. Rather than deliberately avoiding her for fear of what others might think of me, I think I'll find a way to have some fun with her, instead. Let's face it; Mary Sue probably means different things to different people, so one way or another, somebody's gonna hit you with the term anyway.

Let's look at a creative example: Harry Potter. No, I don't think he's a Mary Sue (if he is, he isn't the worst one). Hogwarts is, though. Hogwarts may be one of the most easy-to-fantasize-about ideas ever conceived. It's safe to say a majority of its readers can relate to the magical feeling Harry feels the first time he boards that dumbass train, or shops in Diagon Alley. Each book treats us to a trainload of Mary Sue, but they do so with the setting, not the characters. The 'Unrealistic Consequences' that define Mary Sue are distributed freely to everyone in that world, and thereby, we aren't upset about one person who seems to be reaping an undue amount of rewards.

Using the term for a setting might be too liberal, though.

Or we could get cynical about things and have fun that way. What if we had a Mary Sue character who has all their dreams come true over and over again, but all the characters that the reader is supposed to sympathize with HATE the Mary Sue character for being a lucky asshole?

What if we made prolific use of 'Unrealistic Consequences' for only a specific character, and we even base that character on ME because I'm the author and I get to do whatever I want... but for a fun twist, we make all those 'Unrealistic Consequences' overwhelmingly negative. Nobody's done anything like that before, right?

It's so like me to ask such a question and then post a gif about a show famous for establishing a premise only to immediately beat it to death with a tire iron. Taste the chrome!

There's nothing reasonable about the things that happen to Frylock in this show.

Alright, that's enough of that. Ya'll feel like you have an idea about what Mary Sue is? Can ya identify any Mary Sues you've enjoyed, or more likely, can you name some you can't stand? Should it be avoided at all costs, or do we belong to the school of thought that says 'all fiction is Mary Sue!'? Are you angry with me for the distracting gifs yet? Let me know, you rat bastards.

Instant Closure! Going Out With A Bang (and then some)!

I'm not sold on this idea yet. I'm not sold on anything, that's why it's up for discussion, but this one in particular.

Have you ever been annoyed when a character seems to come back from the dead to save the day? I know I have. Especially if they were just playing 'possum or something. Usually there's some explanation for the occurrence, like they took some poison that mimics the state of death, but I still feel like it's a pretty cheap trick.

It's a little better if they were in an extremely perilous situation when we last saw them; we never saw them bleeding on the ground or had any real reason to presume they were dead. I can handle that. But when the author intentionally implies they're a corpse, but omg jk not really!, I feel like I've been nut-punted.

Rest well, sweet Concord. I'm sure he didn't forget.

So I'm thinking of taking that option away from myself. I'm playing with an idea I think I got from South Park, of all places. In the Walmart episode, Cartman posits that people always crap themselves when they die. Sure enough, everyone that dies in this episode (quite violently) craps themselves upon death.

Though the above execution is obviously crass, I think the technique is sound. I'm playing with the idea of 'to live is to use magic' I've cited a couple of times in the elemental profiles; the body is made up of all the different elements, thereby, our spirit (or our individual life element) is constantly wielding magic by keeping these elements together.

If we think of it that way, what might happen if we're killed, or perhaps even wounded? Say a warrior is sliced by a sword, what if the shock to the 'spell' that maintains our bodies causes a spray of sand (flesh to earth) and water (blood to water) instead of blood? And perhaps when a person dies, we see a more tangible passing; sparks of electricity might flicker from the eyes, vapor may rise from the flesh, air evacuates from the lungs and gut; there are many possibilities to showcase their 'soul's' loss of control over the body's elements, and these symptoms could help the reader be certain the character had died.

While I'm not writing specifically to (older) kids, I doubt I want to exclude them, so might this be a way to get around gore, too? I mean, we can't have a corpse immediately turn into sand and water; people eat meat in this world, which would be impossible if beasts disintegrated into mud immediately upon death. People will still bleed from wounds (only the initial cut involves a small amount of water and sand, because MAGIC!), a person will still leave a skeleton if they're left to rot. I just wonder if this might be a less-cheap (but still cheap, perhaps) way of using blades without having my Foot clan become robots. I mean, books have already gotten away with more violence anyway, so maybe I don't even need to worry about this factor.

All the same, what do we think? This is a gimmick, to be sure, but do we like it? Does it serve enough of a function (you'll know someone just died, so unless it was a look-alike, then Kenny just ate it) to warrant its inclusion? What famous 'dead-but-not-really!' moments caused you to ache in your nethers? If ya like the idea, how might the eight different elements (light, electricity, water, life, darkness, earth, air, and heat) flare up during somebody's death-throe?