Bump in the Night - Sci-Fi & Fantasy

First of all, I want to say that I really appreciate everyone who reads and comments on this blog. Without you, after all, it’s pretty much just me rambling to myself on the internet…

Now, in regards to comments, I’ve been getting a lot of spam lately (probably around 2,000 or more spam comments each week). Some of these comments are difficult to distinguish from real comments by real readers. I would HATE to accidentally delete a genuine comment (my apologies to anyone who has suffered this fate). So to make things a little easier, I would appreciate it if you could post with a simple first name (or first name and last initial) or a recognizable alias like “dragonrider.” Most of the spam comments I get post under a random string of letters and numbers or a combination of words that are not immediately recognizable.

Thank you for your patience! A review of “The Hunger Games” is below.

WARNING! Unlike my review of “The Knife of Never Letting Go,” this review WILL contain spoilers. I tried to think of a way around including them, but it is difficult if not impossible to discuss this book’s strengths and weaknesses without revealing some important plot points.

“The Hunger Games” by Suzanne Collins came highly recommended to me by my friends, and now that I’ve read it I understand why. It’s a high paced, high stakes book where Katniss, the main character, is constantly fighting for her life. If you haven’t heard about this book yet, the premise is rather simple. Sometime in the future, the United States has ceased to exist. In its place is a country called Panem, which is divided into 12 districts. Decades before the current story, those districts (along with a now destroyed 13th district) battled against the repressive Capitol – and lost. Now the Capitol forces each district to send one boy and one girl between the ages of 12 and 18 to participate in the annual Hunger Games, a kind of Survivor-gone-overboard where the kids are expected to kill each other and the victor is the last one standing. When Katniss’s 12-year-old sister is chosen, she volunteers to go in her place. The heart of the story is her struggle to survive and retain her humanity in the Games.

Now, I enjoyed this book overall and would recommend it to the same people who were intrigued by “The Knife of Never Letting Go.” But it did have some shortcomings that I think are important to discuss:

1. Point of view. “The Hunger Games” is written in first person POV (from Katniss’s perspective), and I think it would have worked better in third person. The primary source of tension in story comes from the question of Katniss’s survival – but if the story is told in first person, the implication from the beginning is that she alive to tell it. For me, the main benefit of first-person narration is an increased sense of empathy with the main character and an understanding of her motivations. Yet I felt strangely distant from Katniss, though whether this was because of her “closed off” fighter’s personality or the writing itself is hard to say.

2. The back-story. We are told that the Capitol uses the Hunger Games to intimidate the districts and decrease the likelihood of further revolt. This stretches credibility. There are far more direct ways to show military and moral strength – visible cameras, posting of nearby troops, forced pledges of allegiance, separation from families, etc. – but the easiest way to calm a troubled populous is to make sure that it is happy and well-fed. If the districts are laborers for the Capitol, why would it want to keep them unequal and malnourished and waste valuable labor hours on the Hunger Games? A demand for ghoulish entertainment by the citizens of the Capitol would have been a more convincing premise (and would have allied readers more readily against it) with closer parallels to modern-day reality TV.

3. The stakes (or lack there of). The ideas behind “The Hunger Games” are not entirely original. Parts of them have been done before, from the kid-on-kid violence of “Lord of the Flies” to the killer reality show of “The Running Man.” What makes this kind of book interesting is how the characters respond to the moral dilemmas in front of them. Will Katniss kill the friend she owes her life to or the little girl who is more like her than her sister? And if she does, what will it do to her mind and conscience? These questions, while unsettling, are what give the novel depth. But the author cheats readers by giving Katniss loopholes: the girl is killed by someone else and she mourns her death, the capitol allows both her and her friend to win. The main character doesn’t have to make difficult decisions and never commits overtly subversive acts against the Capitol. By the time we get to the end, we assume that the Capitol’s supposed threat against Katniss for “tricking” them at the Games will never play out – and it doesn’t, at least not yet.

That said, I still thought this book was well-written and had a good time reading it. I’m going to implement a new rating system so that you can compare the books I’ve reviewed on this blog: each book will receive between 1 and 4 dragon scales, with 1 being terrible and 4 being life-changing. “The Hunger Games” receives 3 out of 4 dragon scales for being an all-around fast paced and entertaining read. “The Knife of Never Letting Go” receives 3.5 out of 4 dragon scales for inspiring genuine suspense and curiosity in the reader.

Like many other teens, I enjoy reading in my spare time, but don’t have much time to spare during the school year. Winter vacation is the perfect opportunity for me to catch up on the great books that I didn’t have a chance to read in the fall. Now, I love young adult sci-fi/fantasy novels, but recently that section of the bookstore/library seems to have been taken over by vampire romances – and I’m the kind of person who believes that vampires should bite first and blow kisses…never. That’s why I was so glad to stumble upon “The Knife of Never Letting Go” by Patrick Ness, a relatively new addition to the genre that is thus far (I am about 3/4 of the way through the book) 100% vampire free.

Todd Hewitt is the last boy in a colony full of men that was supposed to be Earth’s fresh start. His world is full of Noise – the thoughts of others, which became audible after an act of biological warfare by an alien species wiped out all of the women on the planet. There is no such thing as privacy – not even from his dog, whose (usually dull) thoughts he can’t help but hear. But everything changes when Todd finds two things that weren’t supposed to exist: a silent patch in the swamp near his farm, and a girl. His town has been hiding something from him, something so terrible that he, the girl, and his dog must run for their lives. Everything Todd has been taught is a lie – but how can he survive long enough to find the truth when his pursuers can hear his every thought?

There are three things I love about this novel. The first is its voice. “Knife” is told in first person, from Todd’s point of view. As any reader (or writer) of young adult fiction knows, it is very difficult to create an authentic sounding teenage narrator, but Ness succeeds and goes a step further by using realistic slang and phonetic spellings (Todd never quite learned how to read). The main character embodies the conflict between independence and self-doubt that is often said to define teenagers without sounding contrived. And not once does the author “talk down” to the reader.

The second thing I love is the plot. Sometimes it seems like there are only 3 or 4 plots in YA sci-fi/fantasy that get repeated over and over with slight variations. While journeys set against apocalyptic settings have been done before, the idea of Noise was original enough to catch my interest and new discoveries over the course of the plot kept me reading and genuinely wondering what Todd and his companions would ultimately uncover. I know a plot is good when I find myself reading so fast to find out what happens next that I have to go back and reread sections that I accidentally skipped over.

The third thing I enjoyed, and this has a lot to do with voice, was the character of Todd and his dog, Manchee. At the beginning of the book, I found Todd a little irritating, with a tendency to make stupid decisions. But as the pages flew past, I realized that I was becoming more and more sympathetic towards him. He becomes a fully realized person with hopes and doubts that readers can readily identify with. Ness does not try to forcibly manipulate you into liking Todd by making him perfect or pathetic (something that usually backfires) – such feelings are a natural progression that follows Todd’s personal growth.

If you have read this book and would like to share your impressions, please leave a comment! Next week, I plan to read “The Hunger Games” by Suzanne Collins, and may post a short review.

The Specter-Hector Ghost Extermination Agency FAQ

Are the grey ladies pacing your halls or the odd moans coming from the attic getting you down this holiday season? Never fear – the Specter-Hector Ghost Extermination Agency has over 200 years of experience in stamping out the most stubborn poltergeists this side of the afterlife.

Q: What exactly is a ghost and why is there one in my house?

Whether you call them doppelgangers, phantoms, wraiths, or spirits, ghosts are the spirits of deceased people who have not moved on to the afterlife for one reason or another. Ghosts can take a variety of forms, from barely detectable “orbs” of light to silent figures dressed in the clothes they died in to noisy and mischievous but relatively harmless poltergeists. No one knows exactly what a ghost is made of or how one is created, but centuries of encounters have shown us that they are generally composed of ectoplasm (a type of supernatural vapor or goo).

There are many reasons why a ghost may have taken up residence in your home. Ghosts often gather around sites where there have been many deaths or burials, including graveyards, battlefields, and sacrificial grounds. Current theory holds that the walls between death and our world are weaker at these places, allowing for the formation of “portals” where ghosts can enter life. Or the ghost may have had a personal connection to your house (ghosts often return to the places they remember most fondly).

Q: How do you detect ghosts?

Our ghost detection equipment is top of the line. Though we often cannot see ghosts directly, we know that they need to draw energy from the living world to manifest themselves, and so look for unusual changes in the environment. When a team of paranormal investigators visits the scene of a potential haunting, we bring electromagnetic field meters to detect magnetic disturbances, thermal and infrared cameras to find “cold spots,” digital recording devices to document strange noises, Geiger counters, ion meters, ultrasonic motion sensors, and infrared sound monitoring equipment to help track down the ghost(s).

Q: Will your extermination techniques harm my house/my pets/me?

In most cases, no. Removal may involve the use of vacuums, priests, holy oil, or bargaining with the specter.

Q: How much experience do you have and what were some of your highest profile exterminations?

Our organization can trace its roots back to the original “Ghost Club” of 1862 in London. This club included such high-profile members as Charles Dickens and Harry Price. Although we like to keep a low profile, we have investigated thousands of cases across America, including the haunting of the Oval Office.

Q: How much does it cost to have a ghost removed?

Prices start at $299 per ghost. Call 1-800-GUL-BGON for more information.

For another take on ghosts and ghost hunting, visit: http://www.livescience.com/strangenews/061027_ghost_hunters.html.

Last week, Paul L. posted a comment asking how I do research for technological aspects of science fiction writing. I follow pretty much the same procedure as I would if I were preparing to write a paper: find reputable sources (websites or books), try to make sure that I understand the basics of the topic, and use that knowledge to explore the potential consequences of evolving technology. Most of my science fiction stories focus on biological and medical sciences, where scientific journals like Nature (accessible online at nature.com) and topic-specific non-profit organizations (such as the Society for Neuroscience) can provide a wealth of information. I imagine that similar resources exist for other topics, like robotics. If you are really serious about the technological details of a story, many professors at major universities have websites with e-mail addresses that you can use to ask them questions. I have never done this myself, but if you are courteous and express an interest in their field, most scientists would probably be eager to help.

If all of this seems overwhelming, don’t despair. Not every science fiction story requires such in-depth preliminary research. If you are writing a story about a boy and the space duck he keeps in his garage, all you will have to do is make sure that the duck’s home planet would (theoretically) be capable of sustaining life. And once you step into fantasy territory, internal cohesion matters more than scientific plausibility.

But if you are writing a story that depends on a complex technological topic, please do at least a little investigation. Otherwise, readers’ suspension of disbelief will break rather quickly, and they will focus on your poor understanding of the science instead of enjoying the narrative. Or, worse, they might believe your faulty science, which could potentially hurt scientists and the people whose lives they work to improve. Imagine what would happen if you wrote a bestseller where, for example, common vaccines turned people into flesh eating zombies, and this led to a drop in vaccination for preventable childhood diseases. While this scenario may be a bit farfetched, it illustrates the danger of “writing blind” in a genre where the “science” is often at least as important as the “fiction.”

Multiple sentient species are as common in science fiction and fantasy as magic and monsters. Managing the dynamic between species and races can be difficult, especially when your characters come from ruling or maligned groups, but creating consistency and subtlety in their interactions is rewarding for both you, the writer, and your future readers. As with almost anything else in sci-fi/fantasy, valuable lessons can be drawn from observations of how different human cultures and animal species interact in the real world. In biology, relationships between organisms are organized into three categories – mutualistic, parasitic, and commensal – which can also be applied to the dynamics of interspecies relations a fictional universe.

Mutualistic: As the name suggests, a mutualistic relationship is one that benefits both parties, races, or species in some way. This kind of relationship usually arises when two groups have similar goals and work cooperatively to reach them (like the humans, elves, and dwarves in Lord of the Rings), or when one group provides a service to another in exchange for resources, security, or companionship (as is usually the case with animal familiars of witches and wizards). One of the most interesting story ideas anyone has ever shared with me involved different species with magical powers that were only effective at certain times of the day or year – members of these species would have to join together in teams to learn how to capitalize on each other’s strengths and minimize individual weaknesses. Sometimes interesting conflicts and plot lines can evolve from situations where races or species that normally act parasitically towards one another (or ignore each other completely) are forced to work together in the face of a common threat or obstacle. Most of my main protagonists, for example, come from different cultures that have traditionally feared or envied one another. This mirrors the real-life interactions between people of different cultures and races who have had to work together throughout history to achieve their objectives (like the abolitionists and women’s rights advocates of the 19th century).

Parasitic: A parasitic relationship exists when one group actively harms another group for its own benefit. Though parasitic relationships are often somewhat cliché in sci-fi/fantasy (think “the evil overlord and his minions”), they don’t have to be. One situation that I have always found intriguing is when a species or group regrets the necessity of a parasitic relationship with another group – like the magician who has to draw the lifeforce out of his friends to save the world or vampires who are tormented about drinking human blood but cannot survive without it. Antiheros and reformed antagonists often have a parasitic element to their nature – it can manifest itself in their use of black magic, for example – that they must actively fight.

Commensal: In this kind of relationship, one species derives a benefit from others without actively harming them. Neutral relationships can also be placed in this category. When writing your story, keep in mind that many species from different planets or a pre-industrial world may not interact much (or might never meet at all!). Culture shock and rapid technological development following a “close encounter” between species or nations and associated benefits and challenges can serve as a good catalyst for the central conflict in a story. Imagine what would have happened if the Huns had had 20th century weapons or the puritans had encountered a Neanderthal!

Any work of fiction can incorporate these three types of relationships (and variations thereof), but the added complexities of light/dark magic, multiple species with different innate characteristics, and a varied array of environments and technology allow sci-fi/fantasy writers to take them to new levels of complexity. Conversely, we can learn a lot about how to improve race and culture relations in the real world by studying successful examples in speculative literature.

One more thing – if you have specific suggestions or requests for topics that you would like to see featured on this blog, please speak up in the comments section! I will do my best to write about the topics that interest you most (but it may take a couple of weeks, since I generally plan out my ideas for posts before I write them).

Art and science fiction (or even fantasy) writing are not often mentioned in the same sentence, which is a shame. Even medieval monks knew that when stories and pictures are combined, they can become something magical, intriguing, and alive. Today I am going to explore some of the most famous combinations of art and science fiction or fantasy, and suggest ways that you artist-writers out there (I know I’m not the only one!) can combine your passions.

To me, one of the most successful fusions of sci-fi/fantasy and art is the young adult novel Abarat by Clive Barker. While Barker’s story of an ordinary Minnesota girl transported to a world of 25 islands (Hours) stuck in time is quite stimulating, it is his colorful, surrealist oil paintings that make it remarkable. According to his website (thebooksofabarat.com), Barker spent four years on over 300 paintings before ever putting pencil to paper, more than 100 of which can be found in Abarat (which is the first book of a series). He was inspired by imagery in non-traditional formats, including the French Canadian Cirque de Soleil circus. That means that if you want to follow in his footsteps, you have to keep an eye open for intriguing images wherever you go, and be prepared to draw or paint without knowing all the details of a world beforehand.

Another illustrator of sci-fi/fantasy that I have always admired is Mary GrandPré, the artist behind the pictures in the Harry Potter books. According to an article by Scholastic, (http://content.scholastic.com/browse/article.jsp?id=5825), she has been drawing when she was five, and though she began by copying the works of others, she quickly learned that the most effective method was to draw the familiar, everyday things around her (in fact, she used herself as a starting point for the novels’ illustrations of Harry!) “’That’s what I tell kids to do,’ GrandPré said. ‘I tell them to draw what’s around them, and keep little notebooks and sketches. Draw whatever you see. It doesn’t have to be anything big or beautiful.’” She also advises young illustrators to be free in what they draw and enjoy the process – it is not as much fun if you’re following someone else’s vision, especially when you are drawing sci-fi/fantasy, which is supposed to center around your own imagination.

This week, create a drawing or a short piece of writing (whichever appeals to you most as a starting point). Then translate it across materials – describe your illustration in a story or paint or draw a scene from your writing.

Aliens are perhaps unique among sci-fi/fantasy creatures for being almost as plausible as you or I. Thirty-four percent of Americans believe that UFOs are real – and 1 in 7 believes they have seen one with their own eyes. Here are the three most popular categories of aliens in sci-fi/fantasy; whether or not they exist beyond novels and movies is for you to decide.

Type 1: The Unidentified Flying Object
Often the result of a suspected government cover-up, this is the kind of alien that people in the real world claim to see most often. Strange objects have been spotted in the skis since ancient times, usually described as angels or supernatural omens by civilizations before the invention of the telescope. UFOs became popular in the modern era during WWII with rumors of European “ghost rockets.” While this kind of alien has many possible applications in fiction, it unusually morphs into one of the following two categories as a story progresses.

Type 2: The Green Bobblehead
The term “little green men” (originally, somewhat ironically, used to describe Martians) became popular during the 1950s, after two rural Kentucky men described an encounter with such a being. With their smooth, grey-green skin and oversized eyes and ears, no human can resist the charm of a green bobblehead (or “grey,” in believers’ circles). E.T. is perhaps the most famous example of this kind of alien, though specimens abound in everything from Indiana Jones to Men in Black. More likely to be friendly to humans than UFOs or AIs.

Type 3: The Apocalyptic Invader
The most feared alien incarnation, the apocalyptic invader is also the most common in popular fiction. Though AIs can take many forms – from plant-like (think “Little Shop of Horrors”) to reptilian to humanoid – they usually share some basic traits. Many times, they want to colonize our world for their own uses (either to replace a home planet that has run out of natural resources or as a weapons base for attacking other species), pack substantial firepower, and possess supernatural abilities like above-human strength and the capacity to read minds. Occasionally, however, an AI is deceptively small – something like a deadly bacteria or nanobot.

Reading assignment for the week: War of the Worlds, by H.G. Wells. Just make sure to remember that aliens aren’t really attacking the earth.

Note: Since I couldn’t post at all last week, I am posting twice this week to make up for my truancy. The post beneath this one revisits my “Ten Rules of Magic” to respond to the comments that some of you have made.

A few weeks ago, I challenged you – and myself – to get involved in NaNoWriMo. In that spirit, I bring you the first two pages of the novel I am currently working on. To share your writing or discuss your progress with others, check out this thread on the Teen Ink Bulletin Board: http://www.teenink.com/talk/showthread.php?s=&threadid=22871 (I promise to make a thread more specific to sci-fi/fantasy once my bulletin board registration gets approved!). And now, an excerpt from The Twilightlands…

“Apprentices up! Come on, let’s go. Move it!”
Nate Varoski groaned and rolled over in his bunk. It felt like only minutes had passed since he had fallen asleep. Surely it couldn’t be six o’clock already? He cracked open an eye, squinting at the silver dial on his nightstand. The short blue hand pointed to the three.
“What’s going on, Marti?” he asked the boy in the bed next to his.
“The light degree is off again. There are Nightsiders throwing fits in the street!” The apprentice’s voice held an edge of anticipation. “Maybe we’ll finally get to see some action!”
“That’s enough!” barked the apprentice Overseer. “Stop chattering like a bunch of old women and get dressed!”
Nate reluctantly peeled off his sleeping shirt and pulled a midnight blue training tunic out of the chest at the foot of his cot. Like shadows in the night, fleet and sure and light. The nightingale motto drifted through his sluggish thoughts. “The light degree is off again?” he whispered, once he was sure the Overseer couldn’t hear.
“That’s right.” Marti’s tan skin flushed pink with excitement. “Check your wristwatch.”
With a hurried glance towards the Overseer, Nate reached into the bottom of his chest and retrieved the watch. Nightingale apprentices were supposed to wear their Light Sensitive Wristwatches, or LSWs, at all times, but Nate had begun to take his off after-hours once the light degree had started to rise. It was almost impossible to sleep when an omen of impending doom kept ticking in your ear.
Nate felt an uneasy shiver crawl up his back as he snapped the band around his wrist. His watch was a near replica of the clock on his nightstand, with one obvious difference. In addition to the two blue hands that measured Standard Time was a small, black hand that now hovered near the seven. No, wait - seven? He rubbed his eyes sleepily. When he looked back down, the LSW had begun to beep softly, the face of the dial pulsing with an intentionally alarming crimson light.
“That can’t be right. Marti, is your LSW registering a –“
“Seven?” The other boy nodded. “Yep. It’s not a malfunction.”
Nate swore under his breath and hurried to fasten his sandals. He had never heard of it being so light on the Nightside before. The regular nightingales must be overwhelmed.
“All right boys, time to go! Hope you’re dressed, or the Marshal won’t be amused.”
The old nightingale pushed open the barrack doors and led the disheveled apprentice Flock outside. Nate blinked as the too-light air prickled against the bare skin of his arms and blurred the edges of his vision. The sky was an unhealthy bluish-grey - far from the ideal midnight black. His wings bristled as his dark blue feathers pulled in tightly around his body like a protective cocoon. Nightingales did better than most Nightsiders in semi-darkness, but even their thick copper skin would break into a painful rash after too long of an exposure.
The meeting hall was only a few yards from the apprentice dormitory, but it felt more like miles to the young nightingales who stumbled thankfully into the darkened room. Four small torches, one at each corner of the hall, cast shadows on rows of long wooden benches. Although nightingales possessed acute night vision, they still required a trace of light to focus their eyes. Fire, like the moon and the stars, was one of the few forms of luminosity Nightsiders could tolerate.
“Take a seat,” bellowed the Overseer. “The Marshal is on his way.” A ripple of disgruntled muttering swept through the Flock. Slowly, the nightingales separated into groups of three or four to discuss the night’s events.
Nate and Marti sat down next to a cluster of apprentices huddled near the podium. A slim nightingale girl cast a wary eye in their direction, then moved over to allow them into the group. “Hello Nate. Lovely time to be dragged out of bed, don’t you think?”
“They’d better have a good reason why the regular night’ngales couldn’t handle it,” grumbled an apprentice from one of the senior Flocks.
“I heard there was a riot down on Oleander,” said Marti, a glint in his pale blue eyes.
“Oh, nonsense. You just like making up stories.” The apprentice girl glared at Marti, who stuck his tongue out in reply.
“It’s worse than I ever thought I’d see it, Kira,” Nate whispered. “My skin started burning just on the walk over here. Imagine what the more light sensitive Nightsiders must be going through.”
“That’s why it’s our job to take care of ‘em.” Marti’s chest swelled with pride. “Like shadows in the night, er…something something light.”
“You can’t even get the words to our motto right,” said Kira. “I doubt very much that you could take care of anyone.”
“It’s all those damn Dawnies’ fault,” huffed the older apprentice. “That’s what my pa says. Do away with the Dawnies and we’d have all the darkness we could ever want.”
“Quiet down!” roared the Overseer. “I don’t want the Marshal to think I’m raising Flocks of crows.”
“You don’t need to worry,” Nate muttered. An uneasy hush was already beginning to fall over the meeting hall, a silence that rode on the memories of snapped belt buckles or the damp smack of wood on flesh. Or faces pushed in the mud at two in the morning. Nate’s hands clenched unconsciously as he watched the Marshal’s shiny brown loafers strike a measured path towards the podium.
“Good evening, apprentices.” The jagged scar on the Marshal’s left cheek coiled and jumped like a spring when he spoke. Was it weariness that added an extra rasping note to his voice, or merely impatience? “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’ve been woken up at this hour. Although, seeing the present condition outside and knowing how apprentices gossip, I’m sure many of you already have some idea.”
A group of young nightingales at the back of the hall chuckled uneasily. The Marshal glared at the crowd, his strict, emotionless gaze instantly smothering the hint of nervous laughter.
“The Nightside has become steadily lighter over the past few months,” he continued, clearing his throat, “but today, for the first time, we are officially in a state of emergency. Those of you who actually wear your LSWs –“ his watery grey eyes met Nate’s blue ones, and he gave the boy a tiny, malicious grin – “know the light degree is at a level more often seen in the Twilightlands. Nightsiders all across the city are suffering, and panicking as a result. Earlier today there was a riot downtown, near Oleander Street. Several nightingales were injured while trying to hold back the crowd.”
“I told you so,” whispered Marti.
“Be quiet, Stupid!” hissed Kira, glancing towards the ruddy faced Overseer.
“I have decided to discharge you before things get too far out of hand,” said the Marshal. “Go back to your homes and calm down your families. Tell them whatever it is they need to hear. This situation will be dealt with,” he pounded his fist against the podium for emphasis, “but we cannot handle widespread panic among our own civilians.”
There was a moment of silence, and then the hall burst into discord.

That’s all for now. I hope to have a website soon with a synopsis, etc. so stay tuned…

Two weeks ago, I posted a list of what I thought were the ten most important rules governing magic in fantasy. When I wrote them, I was well aware that they (as any “top ten” list) might spark some debate – and I’m glad I was right. Here are some of the problems you identified and how I would address them:

You can’t take the magic out of most fantasy stories and expect to be left with the same story. I agree completely, and I wasn’t meaning to imply that magic should be inserted into a plot as an “after thought” to make it more interesting. Rule #1 was more than anything a reaction to the stories I have read where the plot was completely devoid of reality – characters were inconsistent, events jumped around and did not follow logically from one another, massive hurdles were overcome in a matter of minutes – and the author relied on deux ex machina conventions of magic to hold things together. If you removed the magic from, say, Sabriel, you wouldn’t have the same story, but you would still have a logical plot arch: girl is disrupted from peaceful life by disaster, girl must develop dormant talents to challenge seemingly impossible odds, girl discovers new, exciting places and makes new friends, girl finds a way to defeat evil, etc. Now, I would be very interested in reading a story where magic is integral to this kind of very basic story structure – the harder a rule is to break (and I agree that many of my original rules allow plenty of room for exceptions), the more interesting the story when it is broken successfully.

Protagonists or antagonists can go without magic as long as they have something equally powerful at their disposal. Agreed, but going back to my previous point, some authors make magic so powerful that there is nothing else in their fantasy world that can logically counter it. I personally believe that magic in every fantasy story should involve a price or weakness that characters can exploit, but be careful of writing yourself into a corner where a character just “happens” to discover this weakness without it being hinted at previously.

Magic does not always have to be morally neutral. This rule sprang from a personal philosophical preference more than anything else. Nothing in the real world is absolutely good or evil. Even things like (to take an extreme example) illicit drugs can be used in some cases to treat medical illnesses, and sweetness can be cloying if you get too much of it at once. So what is a moral absolute, really? By making magic purely good or evil, you are destroying this nuance. There are some interesting moral implications in a story where magic only corrupts and people still choose to use it, but in my opinion it is far more interesting when magic causes both ill and good effects (for example, a character must kill an innocent to save their companion through magic).

Any rule can be broken for the better with enough creativity. This week, write a story that violates one or more of my original rules.