#writingbl

Get Real

One essential part of making better magic systems is giving real imagery to the reader without telling them what to see. Very often I will read stories where the author describes a magic spell like this: “As soon as he entered the room, Kyla felt the powerful magic. She reached out with her senses, seeking the source, and found it was Naylam, standing above the bloody altar.”

Pardon me for writing two such embarrassingly weak sentences, but I’ve read them so many times, in so many manuscripts, I have to show you what it is like. When you read it, it’s sort of like being splashed in the face with pig slop. You know it’s garbage, but you can’t quite figure out what kind.

Do you see the problem? There is no actual imagery here. You as a reader have no idea what magic “feels” like. Does it feel like a kitten purring as it nuzzles against your cheek? Or does it feel more like a dagger piercing your kidney? Or does it feel like a bad case of the flu is making you want to barf?

The imagery is so vague, the reader isn’t led to imagine anything it all. The author is simply “telling” us what the mage experiences without creating any real imagery. But as an author you’ve heard it over and over again, “Show, don’t tell.” So you have to come up with precise imagery in order to fix the problem.

Before we address precise imagery, there are a couple of clichés that we need to deal with here. Why is it that so many mages “feel” magic power? I’ve seen people “sense” magic in books hundreds of times. Much in the same way, in film anything that is magic glows. So when we describe something magic, authors often refer to these two senses without thought.

But sight and feeling are not the only senses we have. Indeed, relying upon any one sense alone is too damned weak to bring your magic to life. We need to involve all of the senses—all the ones that your teacher taught you about in school—and more!

So instead of harking back to the old clichés, when you create magic, I want you to ask yourself, “How does the viewpoint character know that someone or something is magic?”

Come up with an answer. For example, if a character sees someone with a magic sword, you might imagine that the sword is glowing. Why? Because in Hollywood, everything that is magic glows. It’s a visual medium, after all.

If you do default to that image, throw your answer away, and ask yourself, “How does my hero really know?” Come up with a better answer.

Then maybe throw that second answer away and ask, “How does he really know?” Repeat this as often as needed, until after maybe ten or fifty tries, you get an answer that your gut tells you is right. If you’re familiar with acting techniques, you’ll probably recognize this exercise, but it works in storytelling as you consider things like character’s motives, possible plot twists, and . . . what does magic look like?

So you make a list.

Now that you know what magic looks like, ask yourself what does the magic sound like? When a mage casts a spell, for example, what does the audience hear? Does he hear a scream from the netherworld, or a crackling of static electricity, or the voice of a god in his mind shouting in fear, “No!” Consider a dozen possibilities.

Once you have got the visual and audio down, go deeper. What physical sensations does the magic carry—things like hot, cold, wet, dry, rough, smooth, soft, unyielding.

What smells are associated with the spell, if any?

Go deeper. What emotions are aroused by magic? Does the mage feel triumph, horror, regret?

When a magical spell is cast or an implement is used, how long does it take? Does it happen faster than thought, or does time dilate, the way that it will in a fight, so that the mage really is aware of what is going on in minute detail?

What is your viewpoint character thinking during the process? Go into his or her direct thoughts.

And finally, what are the magic’s effects? How does it act in ways that surprise the viewpoint character, or arouse powerful emotions?

In other words, when you are trying to create an impression that magic is taking place, you need to involve all of the senses. Sight, sound, smell, touch, taste, emotions, time—and you should even go deeper, into your POV character’s direct thoughts.

This is the only way to make magic feel real. If you would like to see some examples of how it is done, I’d invite you to look at Brandon Sanderson’s work, particularly in his Mistorborn series. Carlos Castenada does it well in his book, The Teachings of Don Juan. I do it in The Runelords, too.

But I need to emphasize this: In writing, all failures are tied to a failure of imagination. If your magic system feels weak or cliché, or if the consequences of your magic system aren’t rigorously examined, then you need to go back, exercise more and more imagination until you fix it. If you would like a more in depth course on imaginative writing, look here, but do not forget about the Super Writers Bundle!

-David Farland

Organic Magic

Some magic systems just don’t make any sense. That doesn’t mean that they can’t be fun, it just means that the audience will frequently be reminded at how silly it all is. When this happens, it reminds the audience that this is “just a story,” and can effectively remove the reader from the tale. As the poet/critic Samuel Taylor Coleridge put it, the magic system violates the reader’s “suspension of disbelief.” Making better magic systems includes making it fit into the story seamlessly and naturally.

Let’s take a classic example: Dumbo. Disney specialized in creating magic systems that were often ludicrous simply to get a fun visual effect. I remember seeing Dumbo for the first time when I was about ten years old, and it really annoyed me. I kept looking at Dumbo’s ears and wondering, Is waggling those big ears really supposed to give that elephant enough thrust so that it can lift off the ground? I don’t think so!

Now, as a child of four, I might have thought the idea of a big-eared flying elephant was cool. I might even have wondered if it could really happen. I might have wished that I could ride a flying elephant. As an adult, I might have been delighted to see my own children enjoying the nonsense. But at ten I was just at the cusp of an age where I couldn’t figure out what to make of it and found myself “outside” the tale, watching it but not really being engaged.

Another magic system that bothered me as a child was Popeye the Sailor Man and his eating of spinach.

As a five-year-old, the magic system seemed to me to be designed to sell nasty canned spinach—as if it were the brainchild of an unusually foolish advertising exec. Now, if you’re creating a magic system for an animated film, and you’re looking just to create a visual spectacle, such a magic system might work fine. It can be lighthearted and fun.

But once in a while, a magic system comes along that somehow feels a bit more . . . realistic than others. It can subtly invite the reader to believe. To me, such magic systems feel more “organic.”

Indeed, I often find that the best magic systems have deeper meanings. They often serve as metaphors for life, and beg the reader to consider the tales they are in seriously.

I think that the first time that I really noticed one of these “organic magic systems” was in Frank Herbert’s Dune, where a powerful “spice,” an organic molecule created by giant alien worms, was found that stimulated a person’s prefrontal lobes so well that the person who inhaled the spice was given almost prescient powers.

The idea of spice worked well for me for one simple reason: There had been rumors of drugs that stimulated the imagination for centuries. In fact, Samuel Taylor Coleridge (mentioned above) wrote one of his most famous poems, “Kubla Khan” under the influence of opium.

Of course, in the 1960s and 1970s many artists experimented with drugs in an effort to increase their productivity and expand their imaginations. I’ve known authors who use alcohol, pot, meth, and LSD for such purposes. Even Frank Herbert is rumored to have written Dune under the influence of mind-altering drugs.

Just to be clear, I strongly warn authors not to try this. I’ve seen too many authors destroy their careers this way.

But my point is that the magic system in Dune suggested the idea that potent chemicals could be developed that might lead us to higher stages of consciousness. As a teen with an interest in medicine, I felt that that was worth thinking about. Magic systems that are based on principles that sound plausible feel somehow more “right” to me, and thus invite me to become more engaged.

Similarly, a magic system might invite us to consider the tale more seriously because it can act as a sort of magnifying glass that helps reveal the world as it is. For example, in a recent story by Andrew Peery called “Useless Magic,” found in L. Ron Hubbard Presents Writers of the Future, Volume 33, a magician lives in a world where his father, a powerful sorcerer, spends his time humiliating his children in an effort to get them to follow in his footsteps. The only problem is, the young man can’t. He has only one small magical ability, and it’s utterly worthless. In this story, we aren’t invited to wonder at a fantastically crafted magic system so much as to consider the far more human tale that unfolds between father and son.

So, when I’m crafting my own magic systems, I often like to look at the tale and ask myself questions like, “Does this magic system feel organic, as if it is an extension of some natural law?” and “What life lessons does this magnify?” or “Does the magic system invite me to engage in this story on an intellectual level?”

This is what I tried to do with my novel The Runelords,

I spent a year researching and considering various magic systems and didn’t really like any of them. I was interested in dealing with magic at an “economic” level, to consider the underlying morality of how we trade for goods and services, often with both parties trying to get the most possible from the other while offering little in return. I finally came up with a magic system that acted as a metaphor in the way that I hoped. When I wrote the novel, it sold millions of copies, but it wasn’t until it had been out for ten years and the world was going through a huge recession that I began to get fan mail from readers who said, “You know, as I was reading this, I realized that this isn’t fantasy at all: it’s about the real world!”

Yes, as a writer, that’s what I try to do: I search for magic systems that can help me say something about the real world.

It’s not the only way to work, but it’s one that I find fun.

-David Farland

Zephyn stepped away from the now still body of Suraya. He knew that the blindness would wear off, he had experienced it himself the first time, when Joseph was still around. Tira should never have started the ship without him telling her to, but it was fine, maybe a bit slower than usual. Anyway, other things needed to be done. He closed Suraya’s door with a press of a button, then ran out along the hallway. Fuel needed to be transferred from the tanks to the port engines, and he would have to rewire the power matrix after the damage done to the shields. But first he ran along to the cockpit, where he saw Tira sitting peacefully, gently manoeuvring the controls toward the distant station, orbiting around a gas giant.  

“Are you sure about this Tira?” Zephyn asked. “If that giant has valuable gas, then pirates or the furries could be after it.”

“It’s fine. I’m using the Rattlesnake’s other ID, and I know how to avoid pirates. Get to work, before I regret taking you on.” Zephyn smiled.  

“There would be no way for you to survive without me! The ship would fall apart within a week.” Tira grabbed some manna, small and soft pieces of bread, from a side drawer and said,

“I think I would manage fine with that girl. She seems capable.” Zephyn laughed at that.

“Do you really think so? She’s lying in her bed now, blinded, because she walked in while I was-”

“Showering?”

“No! Using a fusion welder, you nitwit!” Tira chuckled at Zephyn’s flustered response.

“Watch it, boy. Back to work. Forget about her, she’ll be fine.” Zephyn walked away, grumbling, before breaking into a run. He moved towards the central wiring board, buzzing with electricity. He yelled to Tira, reminding her that the power was going off, and flipped the master switch. There was still electricity running through the ship, for life support and the like, but there was no power going through the main board. Zephyn quickly rewired some cables, siphoning a bit of power off the indoor lights and from the rooms, and sent it to the shields, balancing it around the entire ship. Triple checking all of the connections he turned the power back on, and the ship stabilised a small amount. He ran towards the engine room, but stopped outside Suraya’s door. He peered inside and whispered,  

“You feeling okay?” There was no response, so he continued on. In the fuel room he gathered two fuel barrels and pulled them along the floor. He took one of the almost empty ones out and replaced it with a full one, then locked it in places, then repeated the same with the second one, maintaining some amount of fuel for the engines at all times. Then he moved to where he was welding before and put his safety gear to finish the job. As he got up to go shower off the muck from the fuel and the welding waste, the ship shuddered, then moved as smooth as possible, indicating that the ship had connected to a tractor beam. There was only time for a quick shower and change of clothes before the ship stopped moving, fully secure and connected. Zephyn walked out, buttoning up his shirt, and saw Tira coming out from the cockpit, wiping her face with a small towell.

“You okay?” Zephyn asked.  

“Yeah, I'm good.” Tira responded. “Just... a bit hot in here. I was thinking, although you dressed up, stay here with Suraya. I can do the negotiating by myself, and I don’t really like the look of this place. Seems a bit run down, might attract the wrong kind of crows.”

“Oh, yeah that’s fine. Just remember that we need some more water and manna, maybe some nicer food too.” Tira chortled at this.

“Boy do you think we have the money for that?”

“I don’t know, you never show me the budgets, just point me toward whatever needs fixing. Anyway, go buy your fuel. I’ll stay here, maybe work on some of the exterior.”

“Come on, Shadget, this is why I told you to give her the shot!”  

“Tira, she wouldn’t take it! Screamed at me to put it away.”

“Bet you’ve heard that a lot.”

“Damn it Tira!” Suraya giggled at this, then opened her eyes to see them standing apart from each other, both faces blazing, one from anger, and one from embarrassment. They ignored here, and continued arguing.

“We coulda dropped into pirates! Or worse! And you let her get knocked so she can’t fight for us?”  

“She shouldn't have to!”

“Well, when you pull the money we need for an automatic turret out of ya, our passengers won’t have to!” Suraya looked on, and asked,

“How do you normally manage?” They looked at each other and half laughed. Tira spoke up.

“Er, we don’t usually. We give bribes and drop cargo, not passengers, of course.” Tira quickly clarified. “Anyway, coast is clear, but we need to refuel, so we’ll head over to that space station now. Zephyn, I heard something getting loose around the starboard engine, so go look at that. Suraya, go familiarise yourself with the turret controls. We should be far enough away from pirates and the Senate here, but you can never take to many precautions. Alright? Let’s go.”  

They all split up, and Suraya wandered the ship, trying to find her way back to the turret, still in awe of the gleaming surface, and flashing lights all around the ship. Eventually she wandered past a darkened doorway with banging noises coming from inside. She peeked around the doorway to see a darkened figure crouched over a pipe. Suraya took a step inside just before it exploded in light, making her stumble backward. The figure, hearing her fall, stopped welding and took of his safety helmet, and a second later crouched in front of Suraya.  

“You silly girl! Why are you wandering in here while I’m working!” Realising who it was, Suraya mumbled back,

“Zephyn? I can’t see.” Zephyn grunted.  

“Of course you can’t! This is a fusion welder! You can’t be in the same room as a fusion welder without suffering blindness fo-”

“Can you please, just take me to Tira,” Suraya said weakly.

“Tira ain’t gonna be able to help ya! I’ll take you to your cabin. Rest there.” Zephyn helped Suraya up, and half carried her to her cabin. There he gently put her onto the bed, and pulled the covers gently onto her. She didn’t resist, but showed some signs of being uncomfortable. As Zephyn stepped away, she called out to him.

“Zephyn! Wait.” So he stopped, and walked back to her. She spoke gently to him,

“Describe my cabin. I don’t want to be in darkness.” Zephyn’s constantly buzzing heart slowed and softened at her pitiful voice.

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake. We got away, but q-speed knocks you out if you aren’t ready for it.” Suraya opened her eyes to see the old woman looking at her deeply, analysing her, and the boy standing to the side, tossing around some kind of electronic device. They were all inside a spacious room, with soft read seats and exits in front, and either side of her. Suraya responded, 

“Really? We’re safe?” The woman smiled.  

“Yes, we are, lass. Ol’ Tira never lets a customer down. Without any trouble we’ll be at Crescent within two days. So welcome to the Rattlesnake!” She paused. “Why are you in such a hurry anyway? There aren’t many customers who would be willing to fly with furries right behind us.” Tira looked worried for her, as much as an old woman with a leather jacket and jeans could, with a wrinkled face but strong, deep blue eyes. Before Suraya could talk, the boy spoke up. 

“As long as you're willing to say, miss. Tira’s quite blunt when it comes to certain things.” Tira looked back at the boy and scowled. 

“Zephyn, you know that in this business I have to. She could be a murderess for all we know!” Zephyn muttered something about ‘ironic’ under his breath, but Suraya laughed gently, and said to them, 

“My name is Suraya Fox. I’m not a criminal, just running from my father.” Tira went and slouched onto the chair opposite.  

“Seems to me that everyone is runnin from something. Zephyn here is-”  

“Can you not?” Zephyn interrupted. “She’s only going to be here for a few days. Anyway girl, maybe you woulda been best staying with you father, whatever he did. All you’re going to find in Crescent is poverty, unless you’ve got someone waiting for you.” Suraya stopped and looked down, the reality of her situation pouring over like a second q-jump. 

“I... don’t know actually. I didn’t plan that far.” Tira and Zephyn both looked at each other sadly, but before more could be said, the lights above the doorways started blinking green. 

“Aight, looks like we’re gonna be dropping outa q-speed pretty soon. Buckle up, I'll get ready. Zephyn, give Fox the shot.” And with that, Tira disappeared into the cockpit. Suraya’s jaw dropped, and she shrieked, 

“No! What shot?” Zephyn approached her, with a small syringe. He stopped, surprised, and said. 

“Just a little somethin’ to calm ya down, so you don’t get knocked out again.”  

“No! You will not stick anything into me!” Zephyn sighed.  

The sky screamed, and burst. Fire streamed around an obscure shape, hurtling to the surface. 

“Miss, now!” The ticket seller yelled, and pulled her out of Will’s arms. Torn away from him, both physically and emotionally she ran inside the rusted metal building, following her only hope. The corridors twisted and turned, until she broke out into the light, and stumbled to a halt, out of the way of a huge metal contraption. Sand and dust blew into her face, and the ship crashed to the ground. Pressure hissed out of the interior as the ship opened. An old woman peered out beadily, as steam and dust blew up around her from the ship’s still on engines.  

“Get in now, girl!” The old woman shouted, “We’ve got furries on our tail!” Suraya immediately realised what was happening, and the ‘Bit of a problem’ that the ticket seller had mentioned. She sprinted up the extended ladder into the main entry. The woman was already gone, down the shining corridor into the rest of the ship. Before Suraya could move any further inside, the ship had already begun taking off. Suraya grabbed desperately at a rail on the side of the wall before she fell over from the pressure. As the outer doors closed, Suraya got one last glimpse of her home world, and of Will, still faithfully watching her, until she was gone from his reach, forever.  

Suraya looked around. The ship’s interior was vastly different from the exterior. Smooth and shiny, with flashing blue lights infant of every doorway, although there were a few dents and scorch marks along the hallway. She was lost of where to go, so she decided to follow the path that the old women had taken. As she took her first step down the hallway, the lights above the doorways began flashing orange. She took a deep breath, and continued walking. After a few steps the entire ship was rocked, and Suraya fell over and collapsed, shaking on the floor, and as the ship began to bank and swerve, she wondered why she had gotten into two consecutive hells.  

 Before she could lie there for long, a young man with black stains on his simple shirt and pants ran up to her from where the old lady had gone.  

“Quick, come with me! We need you on the cannons now!” Suraya scrambled up and said,  

“I’m… not sure I can.” The boy shook his head and jumped from side to side. 

“Well, you’re gonna hafta if we have any hope of getting outa here.” Another shot pushed them both against the wall. Suraya nodded acceptance, and ran to catch up to the boy, who had already disappeared. She turned a corner and say him, waiting beside a sealed door. When she caught up he pulled it open, and a calm voice resonated from the speakers, saying: 

“Welcome, pilot. What would you li-“  

“Cannons, ASAP!” The boy interrupted, jumping on the spot. The voice stopped, and a terminal rose up from the floor, infront of a small seat, made only out of metal with no softness to it.  

“Right!” The boy said. “I’ll leave you to it, I gotta go reroute some power.” And with that he disappeared, and the door shut behind him. 

Suraya stared at the controls. A small ship screamed by, lighting the ship up with yellow beams, making the ship shudder desperately. Without any other option, she sat down in front of the terminal, and gingerly pulled on a headset. Into the microphone she spoke quietly, 

“Hello?”  

“Quit talkin and start blastin,” came the thunderous reply from her earpiece. Frantically, she grabbed the controls, and looked out the window. Sudden silence enveloped the ship, as the reticle blinked on. Then the ship banked, bringing the lone fighter directly in her sight. Her quick reactions blessed her as she twisted the turret toward the enemy vessel. The reticle fell directly on the center mass of the enemy vessel, and she could just see the pilot’s face inside the ship, sweaty and wild-eyed. All it took was squeezing her hands and, a purple bolt exploded out of the turret’s cannon, speeding directly toward the ship, causing it to erupt in flames, then fade away to dust and some hunks of steel. The ship slowed to a stop, and Suraya stood up, breathlessly, shocked in what she had done. Changing someone’s life so much with as much effort as it took to eat a pinabo. She began to walk out of the room in shock, but only made it a few steps before the boy from before exploded into her face, and began pulling her desperately down the corridor, and then into a large doorway. Without looking at her he shouted, 

“Leave this place, Suraya. Flee into the eternal sunset.” Suraya looked back, onto the yearning face of her best friend, Will. His face matched hers, the pain, the memories. Leaving would tear him apart, as it would do to her. He wasn’t the problem, and neither was she. All she knew was that the only answer was escaping. Escaping from this planet, and its yellow stone and deep blue water, with a sky tinged red by its two suns. Escaping the dust, the heat, the money, the power, and the corruption. 

“Miss, your ticket to Crescent.” She accepted her salvation, a small piece of paper, head down so that she wouldn’t be recognised. A small tear leaked out of her eye, and she brushed it away. He would understand. The corporation and criminal run planet created many enemies, and hurt many people, who needed to escape.  

“Your ship will arrive shortly. Would you like details?” Suraya said nothing, so Will spoke up. 

“Yes please.” The ticket seller smiled.  

“It’s a basic model ship, piloted by a 50ish woman, known for her consistency, at least for passengers.” He lowered his voice. “There are some problems. The pilot has some criminal backgrounds. She’s nice enough, and we’re far enough away for the authorities to find her.” Suraya had known that some catches were necessary to find a ship so soon. The ticket seller stopped, then urgently looked up at the sky and touched his earpiece. He took a sharp breath in, then spoke frantically into the headset. 

“Wait one second. Stay in orbit.” Hurriedly, he turned to Suraya and Will. “The ship is incoming, but they’re having problems. Do you still want them?” Suraya stood still. “There isn’t another ship in the sector that will take you.” Suraya looked up. The ticket seller waited impatiently, not recognising her face. 

“Yes. Do whatever you can, but get me out of here.” The ticket seller breathed out, then spoke into his headset. 

“Land, as soon as possible. The passenger can board in an instant.” Quickly turning, he ushered her inside. Suraya took a step toward the rusted building, then turned, and hugged Will, with the aggressive passion of farewell. She whispered into his ear, 

“I’m going to miss you. Don’t forget me.” Tears quietly leaking out of his eyes, Will replied the only way he knew how, faithful to his best friend.