My blog on many subjects, principally my writing and thoughts. My current project is The Cluster Cycle, published by Roan & Weatherford. Its first two entries are Starborn Vendetta (2023) and Lost Station Circé (2024).
Last week, I looked back my early exposure to queerness before I came to accept my own bisexuality. This week, I'm looking at my early attempts at writing queer characters. I won't bore you with many, since I didn't really attempt anything like that for a long time.
Many of my first attempts came from the first extremely long story I wrote, and something I initially attempted to self-publish. That was The Leviathan Chronicle, a story set within a heavily-fictionalised version of the Crusades in a separate world, where two opposing supernatural factions (the Seraphim and the Powers) used humans marked by their power to fight the holy war as a proxy conflict. And out of the five lead characters, three had some level of queerness relating to their stories or personality.
To briefly summarise; the titular character Leviathan was intersex/gender queer, and standing as an outsider to the conflict. The other two were Elathan, a spy who loses his lover Paimon and is revived after being executed once found out; and Mastema, one of the faction leaders who suffers from trauma due to a certain kind of abuse from his father. All of them live to the story's end, don't worry, but...let's just say I wasn't being very tactful with how certain aspects of their stories were handled excepting Leviathan. It goes without saying, this was my angsty era, and I was working through some stuff in my mind at that time that needed a dark outlet. The fourth lead was Astarte, a woman driven by revenge to the exclusion of all else. But I hardly consider my need to be dark that as an excuse.
Basically, because of some elements of my media exposure at the time, many of my stories were and are tragic in tone. Not completely depressing, but still tragic. A different story, which was written as a tragedy from the outset following eight reincarnated people in a fantastical Medieval Europe, had a central subplot where one was reincarnated as twins, with another seeing the surviving twin as her soulmate when he in this incarnation is gay. He survives right to the end, and isn't persecuted because of his sexuality, but the fact that the female lead isn't able to rekindle his initial incarnation's love for her is the main issue in the story. I don't want to dwell on this longer than necessary, mostly because I feel queasy knots of embarrassment twisting round me when I think about my early writing, plus this is a story I'll likely never revisit. But it's still worth mentioning, because it sums up something I was doing at the time; I wasn't being violent to LGBTQIA+ characters, but I wasn't exactly putting them in happy scenarios.
I think you can see through these examples that I was going through a stage of...how do I put this? Standard angsty storytelling? War, suffering, religious questioning, the tragedy of reincarnation, all that stuff. That didn't always focus down to specifically queer issues, but I'm sure people will see how queer characters can be magnets for them. I know this from personal experience writing. It wasn't until my earlier experiences of less problematic relationships that my own writing began to change. As I said last time, I was a sheltered type, and I was also shy of asking about those subjects with anyone close to me.
I also lacked emotional maturity. I hadn't known truly deep emotion, either for real people or fictional characters. I hadn't cried at media in any form. It took that kind of emotional connection for me to think "I want to create something that moves people and even saddens them without falling into the usual traps I'm seeing in popular media." There's enough sadness in the world of people on the spectrum, and while those are valid experiences, I wanted to create experiences that weren't built on heartbreak and abuse, tainted by sorrowful memories. I want experiences that are built in simple love, innocent happiness, the kind of thing straight love stories have held onto like vices for decades. Things are changing for the better, especially when you take a step back and look at the broader range of stories outside the narrow mainstream bubble, but there's still steps to take. And I'd like to live and see a day when both counterculture and mainstream can exist side by side, as equals.
So how did I get past this hang-up that I've outlined in both struggle and result? How did I manage to create worlds and universes that I was able to write more realistic and less tragic examples of the wonderful spectrum of existence? Well, you'll find out next week.
The first of my four Pride Month posts, and it's on a personal note. It's how I began experiencing, and then writing, queer characters and story themes. I may have become relatively well immersed in that side of my writing these days, but it took some time and a few dud starts.
Coming to terms with my own bisexuality was a longish process, but in hindsight that feels like nothing compared to my journey getting myself to properly representing people in the modern world, where diversity of gender and sexual identity is something that is important to acknowledge. I've still got some way to go, and things have continued to get either better or worse depending where you live. But here's how things started. Beginning with...my own external experience of queerness.
My awareness of LGBTQIA+ in media was...lacking, for a lot of my life. Not because I didn't have exposure or tolerance, I had both within my immediately family, but just because a lot of my awareness came from media. I wasn't much of a going out and interacting with people type for a number of reasons, so I wasn't exposed to that spectrum. I also wasn't being exposed to standard society-level homophobia, so you could say I had some advantage in that I was able to look at something without any early filter of stereotype.
I guess it's best to start with my 'awakening', even if I didn't become fully aware of my sexuality until the last few years. A lot of people in my social circle have pointed to Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weitz in 1999's The Mummy as their bisexual awakening. More power to them, but honestly Fraser isn't my type, and when I saw the film I wasn't developed enough in that direction to understand. I now realise in retrospect that my own bi awakening was with Angelina Jolie and Gerard Butler from the not-very-good 2001 film Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life. I didn't know why this film was stuck in the recesses of my mind for years until recently. A: the leads' chemistry surrounding their characters' tragic rivalry made up for shortfalls in the story and script, and B: ....I found both of them physically attractive.
So...that's a start.
My first exposure to anything explicitly queer within a story was...the 1985 film Red Sonja. I've voiced my opinions on an aspect of the film, and I don't think it's very good. It's just a bog standard 1980s fantasy film based on a fantasy tradition that today feels very dated. But Red Sonja was also my first exposure to a lesbian in the form of Queen Gedrun. A pretty dodgy example, and one I didn't clock. To me it just seemed like someone who took people as servants and trophies rather than as unwilling companions. As I said, I wasn't that aware. And so we've gone from one poor movie to another, and from standard awakening to 'YIKES!' representation.
I didn't keep much of an explicit track of my awareness of LGBTQIA+ in fiction, or in real life, until I was well into my 20s. There were a few bits and pieces that surfaced, such as short films which I tended not to like as they were just depressing (finding LGBTQIA+ media that isn't depressing was like finding hen's teeth until recently). And there were some creators coming out with what I found out was called 'Word of Gay', which I've come to look slant-eyed at because... I mean, if you wanted them to be on the spectrum, just say so. Show it in a way that doesn't require you to come out from behind the curtain and address the audience in an "oh, by the way" style.
At that point, I discovered video game romances, and exploring them found several queer options. I admit that includes BioWare, as cheesy as they can be, but role-playing these characters gave me a solid sense of what I liked and didn't like. Years later as a fully awakened bisexual I played Dragon Age Inquisition, and I ended up romancing first Cassandra as a man, then Iron Bull also as a man. I also have to commend both as the most entertaining romances since they both play in good ways with genre tropes; Cassandra was played as the nervous young woman without losing her badass aspect, while Iron Bull's BDSM relationship is based firmly in reality rather than...whatever Foofta Blegh of Blegh does.
A few years after that I'd also run into...yaoi and bara. It was almost inevitable that I would do that since I enjoyed anime, and was interested in stuff beyond the obvious mainstream. For those who don't know yet, 'Yaoi' is a Western term for Boy's Love media that is often written by women and has a reputation for being slightly trashy, while 'Bara' is a subset of Japanese manga that is primarily written by LGBTQIA+ authors and frequently NSFW.
I admit, here and now, that my shelves are a little bare of LGBTQIA+ content. Partly because I'm terrible at finding things and need to be selective due to budget, but also because many of the experiences I get recommended are also depressing. It's been the reality for queer people for a long time, particularly the last two centuries, that being queer was dangerous or depressing or to live in an oppressed state. But when I read a story, I don't just want to be depressed, I want to laugh and be enlightened and see a vision of how the world could be.
My own experience with being queer hasn't been depressing and oppressed, I've been allowed to mature and experience myself. I now have a full awareness of my self and my sympathies, and while I have occasionally run into homophobia in this wild place called the internet, I've never felt any push to engage. I just turned quietly away, blocked, didn't even say goodbye, and walked on ignoring them. That, for me, is the sign of strength for my own queer experience. I also don't feel the need to broadcast my sexuality on a personal level, as I'm overall comfortable with who I am. I fully realise that's not a universal experience. But neither is misery.
And it's with that strange combination of isolation and personal certainty, and growing frustration of a fictional norm of heartbreak and misery over happy endings, that I truly started putting queer characters into my writing. Next week, I'm planning an exploration of my journey to writing my own brand of queer representation in my writing. Its rocky beginnings, and its currently and hopefully much smoother reality.
If you want to know more about my general writing journey, I created a podcast/video on the subject, including me reading out some of my less cringy early writing to show how my style and approach evolved. It even includes a sample of my upcoming novel The Murderer's Lament, now expected to release in 2027.
At the invitation of Alternative Stories's Chris Gregory, I've created this behind-the-scenes article-come-production diary for 'The Angry House', an audio play in the horror genre that I wrote for the Pen to Print Awards. You've got the opening section of this story from several months ago, when The Angry House won their Audio Play Competition, with the most significant part of the award being that the play would be produced by Alternative Stories, an audio production company that you may know for Emily Inkpen's Dex Legacy project. I was sort of acting as an assistant for Chris, as well as having input as the original play's writer. I initially thought "eh, split into two articles", then I decided "nah, do a longer article after it's been recorded". That recording date was Monday 20th October 2025.
One thing that I was expecting, but turned out to be both more or less harrowing overall, was the edits that came after the script won the award. Just because it won doesn't mean it was perfect. For one thing, because of the script's inspirations in late 19th to early 20th Century pieces, I needed to update the language to be less formal and--by modern standards--stilted. After that came scheduling meetings, and after that a full hour and a half dedicated to just going through the script with Chris, reading through it, checking for anything I'd missed on a first pass, trimming out some bits that were maybe a bit too 90s. Because the play is set in 1999.
After that, there was the casting, and on my end that included listening to reels as they came in and once everyone had auditioned who would audition, it was time to make the choice. Two of the actors were the only ones to audition for those parts, and thank goodness because they were very good for those roles. The other two were a choice between four or five a piece, and it was a bit of a process narrowing it down to the final choice. We only needed four actors for the roles, as I'd deliberately wrote it to be a small cast, and I was able to get two of the actors to double up roles.
Then, on this last Monday, there was the table read. For those who've seen behind-the-scenes stuff from television or film productions, a table read is basically a run-through of the script so people can get a feel for it. In this case, it was a virtual table-read with some scenes done out of order to accommodate for one member of cast that needed to head off in a hurry. It was also a little longer than expected, as I had added some extra bits at Chris's suggestion for one of the cast members who initially had just one scene. Oh yes, the cast. What a cast it is, all Alternative Studios alumni and with notable CVs in their own right. The recordings well done by the time this goes up so I don't think it should be a bother to reveal them. The cast is;
*Charlie Richards as Harry Wells -- An actor who among other things worked on Emily Inkpen's Dex Legacy as Ren Dex, and also appeared in a recent production of The Play That Goes Wrong.
*Marie-Claire Wood as Agnes Wells -- An actor with range, with credits across multiple Alternative Story productions, feature films, television and classical theatre.
*David Monteith as Gerald Fairly -- A voice and mo-cap actor who has done extensive voice-over work across podcast, films and video games. To some he is Minister Rizet from Emily Inkpen's Wasteland, to others Neueirus from Metaphor re Fantazio or a number of voices in Baldur's Gate 3.
*Sarah Golding as Samantha Gregory -- Creator of Quirky Voices, a versatile actress with too many credits to roll off. Just...so many.
The table read went surprisingly well, and it was still a little odd hearing my words out loud from someone's lips other than mine. Or with the cast of actors I've got as simulacra in my head to bring them to life. I was braced for rough reads, fumbles, awkward moments. There weren't many, just a couple of edits that needed to be made; one based on a suggestion, and one that was a genuine mistake. There was also the question of accent, which was mostly RP (received pronunciation), but there was one Devon accent needed and some question about the kind of RP to be used. I also had to account for the fact that the actors were doing it virtually over a Zoom meetings call, so...not ideal. It wasn't a studio environment with specially-designed microphones and a sound-proof space. There were also a couple of casual interactions that were just funny and broke the ice a bit.
With that cast, and joined by the production crew including Chris and myself, we gathered together at Orpheus Studios in London. After, of course, slightly losing my way. Cities always do that, it's always one door further back or further on than I think it must be. The rest of this article is more in the line of a journal or diary. So...enjoy.
(The events of the day during recording start at time codes.)
Cast and Crew at Tea
10:30-ish; At the studio. At this moment, the actors are warming up. The likes of "pepperoni macaroni" and lip burbles are emanating from the green room. I struggle not to burst into unseemly fits of laughter. The sound engineer Richard Campbell is setting up, and the studio is preparing to enter into the realm of "oh help I'm really going to be listening to my dialogue being recorded". The set-up is a large soundproof room with four mics and two booths. The first scene recorded is Scene 3, with Charlie and David. Marie-Claire is a little late, due to other commitments. Edits were required due to some issues related to repetition of some phrases or some odd wording.
11:02: Marie-Claire has manifested during the second take. The takes are going quite well so far, with some adjustments and talk with the actors to get the right tone for scenes. After a time between scenes where we chatted in the green room, we dived into the first scene. Some stumbles, but otherwise some good chemistry appearing to help get the scene on point with the different character interactions. Always important. Golding also doubled-up the voice of another bit part, which was a huge help. After the scene was completed, we completed some isolated parts for a smaller part that book-ended some scenes. Genuinely moving.
12:15: The beginning of another session with lots of stuff. A scene with a lot of dialogue, including some bits of humour that I was afraid would sound better on the page. Turns out, they sound great. It sounds strange in a way, without the sound effects or anything else, but there is a feeling of it coming together. Also, some questions about pronunciations. And then....LUNCH! (or rather, lunch, which wasn't that great in my case, because eating out for me is like spinning a semi-rigged roulette wheel)
Sound engineer Richard "Orpheus" Campbell. Image courtesy of Chris Gregory, Alternative Stories.
14:11: Back onto scene recording, an emotional scene now and struggling to keep my head straight after the phenomenon of lunch. This one needed some more fine tuning for the script, specifically some word choices so that the actors could have the dialogue flow better. This bit is really showing how much smaller inflections and additions from the actors can make the scene fully come alive. Also the scene in particular is a pretty pivotal and emotional one, so we needed to do an extra take to get as much of it down as possible. And then David had to do some extra bits for a smaller part.
15:24: Next was a very long two-hander between Sarah and Charlie. It's a long and narratively-important scene, and also one with some pretty intense content. Sarah is a great actress, and Charlie was coping very well with a pretty chunky sequence. And yet more pronunciation. Also some small adjustments needed, one in particular at Charlie's suggestion. It's the one that went the best at the table read last Monday, so as expected this went fairly smoothly.
16:24: After a tea break once the scene was completed, we headed into another scene that was a three-hander. It seemed to go fine overall, although the names of some of the characters did somehow derail a performance or two--plus the banter--into the cursed realm of She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named-Ever-More. Overall, it's been going well. Only two scenes left to go; the two final ones obviously.
16:44: The penultimate scene, which has a prolonged period of one person both narrating a scene and being part of it, and this one went so incredibly smoothly. The only one that didn't need three takes, only two. And this was the one scene at the table read we didn't have the time and facilities to go through in full. Moving forward, we hit the final scene, where all the actors came together to perform in one crescendo. We were all feeling a little tired and quite relieved. I got the chance to set the opening fear factor of the scene (on a scale of 1 to 10, a solid 6). The first run went well, although there was some adjustment to tone and wording needed. That seems to be the running theme. Once the big scene was completed, and a b-roll for the final section was recorded, we moved onto Charlie's final narration. He got it first take essentially, but we took a second for the sake of safety.
Recording wrapped up bang on 17:30.
There was of course a nice post-wrapping meet-up at a local pub, where I spent some time with them hearing stories and enjoying the vibes, but I'm not usually someone who stays out late. And I needed food. So I regretfully bowed out, but not because I didn't want to stick around despite being with this small collection of people since around 10 AM that day. It's no exaggeration to say I loved my time during this recording, working with these actors, and I look forward to both the rest of the production cycle, and potentially working with these cast and crew on something again. If the opportunity ever arises.
Lessons I've learned during this session that I shall take forward.
*I have an ear for general mood, but Chris beats me hands down when it comes to particular inflections and line-to-line needs.
*I have a knack of creating complicated sentences and long stretches of dialogue that can easily trip actors up, but that they also love getting used to.
*I must prepare to clarify pronunciations for words that I might think "Really? That needed clarification?"
*Editing on the fly is a necessity up to even this stage when everything's recorded.
*Adlibs aren't dead, and in fact can and will pop up in unexpected places to often enlivening effect.
*Actors in the green room and the pub, and the recording box, have a filthy sense of humour. More please.
*It's never one and done, even if the first take was so good it might as well be. A second is always taken. Sometimes it can run to 4+, or bits of a scene may be re-recorded in isolation.
*Having visited London three times in ten months for various reason, I'm decided: I don't like London that much compared to Oxford or Bristol. I just don't vibe with it.
*I really love being part of a diverse group of people, be that based on ethnicity, background or sexuality.
Thanks to everyone. And here's to the next phase, for all of us.
Cast and writer after recording; 17:40, 20 October 2025, Orpheus Studio in London. From left to right; Sarah Golding, David Monteith, Thomas Wrightson (me), Charlie Richards, Marie-Claire Wood. Image courtesy of Chris Gregory, Alternative Stories.
"Nobody's perfect." It's a very common phrase. It's a joke, an excuse, a trope and a cliché. But it's also an unfortunate, literal fact. Personally, I dislike perfection. I think of it only as an unobtainable abstract. Leaders creating a "perfect" society, creatives striving for that "perfect" project, people trying to lead "perfect" lives. Aiming for perfection is an easy recipe for inferiority complexes.
At the same time, maybe try not to make colossal mistakes which undermine what you're trying to do. Let's start this off with what triggered these thoughts. The use of the word "female" as a noun. It's actively insulting, especially today, and it makes reading some pieces of fiction more difficult unless you put in a metric tone of cultural relativism or some hefty world-building that explains why they aren't using some other noun to describe an entire gender. This is present in Mass Effect because obviously 'woman' can't be applied to non-human non-male members of a society, right? Except when the writers slip and do use that, and wouldn't translation devices approximate for humans so that genders would be described using their own words--and I'll save this for November.
The mainspring is that Emily Inkpen made a point about men who use "female" as a noun. I assume in their everyday speech and writing. She, with impressive restraint, told them to get off her feed and unfollow her as she didn't have the time. I thoroughly understand, using "female" as a noun is just insulting. But then, a penny dropped. I have read some older literature, and as was raised during a recent discussion for an in-progress project related to this event here, I let some of my archaic inspiration leak into how the characters were talking. And I checked: had I used "female" as a noun? And...well, the results were slightly mixed. More usually I realised I'd been using the word "female" as an adjective, but sometimes it did seemingly slip. I haven't checked to see whether I was doing it to help characterise the person in the writing, but regardless the point stands.
For those who don't get what I've been going on about, let me define noun and adjective as simply as I can, as I'm by no means an expert in the technical side of language. A noun is a word used to refer to something, that being an object or a named person or a location in a sentence. So "noun went to noun" or "have you seen noun". There is the further distinction between common and proper nouns. For proper nouns, think of all the esoteric terminology in fantasy and sci-fi. Meanwhile, an adjective is a word which defines a noun, so "an adjective noun" or "out with that adjective noun", or even "noun, adjective, did this three times".
This was something else Emily Inkpen brought up on a reply through one of her socials, where she was pretty angry at the people trying to defend the use of "female" as a noun, probably without realising that the examples being used were technically "female" being used as an adjective. As in "a female voice", or a "female creature". In the Cluster Cycle, I was faced with the unenviable task of creating three other distinctly not-human species for humans to interact with, and I didn't want to use the terms "man" and "woman" to refer to their traditional genders. Mostly because to me, those words are strongly linked with the word "human".
Now, to deliberately use "female" as a noun is insulting and degrading. One might use it in a character's dialogue to signal as such. One shouldn't use it willy-nilly in their own speech, or their prose description, or whatever else. So when I came across those points, I felt more than a little embarrassed. I'll have to be extra careful going forward, because I know I might end up slipping again. I might write something unintentionally insulting and belittling. And today, with many people on a hair trigger, I need to be more aware of that.
I can take a small comfort in the fact that when double-checking, I found that I generally used both "male" and "female" as adjectives, which seems acceptable. I don't know if there's been any update on that, because not only are cultural taboos changing at lightspeed these days, but English is an inherently difficult language because it's both extremely gendered and gender-neutral enough that it causes problems. It's not like French, German, Japanese, Chinese, and dozens of other languages where gender is baked into words and grammar.
All I can do is remember that before it became an excuse and a cliché, the phrase "Nobody's perfect" had a real meaning. And while I can't be perfect, I can try not to be an insensitive author.
Massive warning. This is a post that will cover the story content of Baldur's Gate 3 in its entirety as far as my playthrough is concerned, so there will be constant and unrepentant spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3 in general, and the Dark Urge route in particular.
So, in April, I bought Baldur's Gate 3, the famous title developed by Larian Studios as a follow-up to two legendary titles with turn-based and dice-role stat-focused gameplay inspired by "Fifth Edition Ruleset" of Dungeons & Dragons. It also boasts a story set squarely within the lands of Faerun and the Sword Coast. And recently, through a bad bout of COVID, I had a chance to finish it.
Baldur's Gate 3 is good. I don't think people need reminding of that. I was extremely wary of getting it as my previous Larian Studios experience was with Divinity: Original Sin 2, which has a late-game difficulty spike (or perhaps overhanging cliff is a better visual metaphor) that dances wildly over the line into being cruel and unfair rather than challenging. But after much research and consideration, I dived in. And I chose a Dark Urge character, making them a male Dragonborn bard called Cai.
Meet Cai, dragonborn, hailing from Baldur's Gate, a Bard of some skill who wields dual swords and powerful magic. Has violent urges but is currently undergoing on-the-road therapy. Would like to meet attractive if impulsive and potentially explosive wizard. Monogamy tolerable.
I won't say this game's for everyone, it isn't. But it's remarkably approachable. I'm not that good at Tactical or CRPGs, but I was finding ways of completely monstering enemies. There were obviously gameplay moments that had me either reeling with laughter or tensing up or wanting to break something; barely passing a saving role that got me an unexpected ally, dodging attacks with a sliver of health left, hitting what I'll call "Larian moments" in Act 3 when some encounters turned from challenging to rather unfair, reactioning a half-spider to death, using my bard/wizard combo to obliterate a boss in three turns flat, blabbing a potential boss into killing himself, getting utterly lost more than once trying to find a darned place and perhaps going inside the wrong/unintended way, almost being killed more than once by tough bosses. You know, the things you do sometimes.
But the main experience I had was during this story, a stronger experience than I ever expected as I've spoiled myself on most of the major story beats and a lot of aspects of how a Dark Urge (hereafter Durge) run can go. During my 80+ hour first playthrough to not become a brain-eating soulless mindflayer, I successfully saved a druid grove while guiding tiefling refugees to safety (although I met a bard from their group and killed her in a trance in her sleep so whoops), liberated lands from a curse of shadow while reuniting a literal lesbian power couple, defeated a swamp hag (twice), accidentally left people to die in a burning building, accidentally let people die in an undersea prison, was unable to stop people dying in a factory, and stood up to gods and demons and soulless brain-eating monsters from across dimensions. And all without needing mods, a massive improvement over my previous Larian experience.
The story is actually pretty simple. Standard D&D fare even, and due to its very Tolkien-like style I don't tend to gravitate towards D&D proper. It's the characters that make the journey more than worthwhile.
As a writer myself, I tend to be hyper critical of characters, and I also tend to gravitate towards people that some others in the community are more than happy to disregard or turn into punching bags. See my liking for the cast of Final Fantasy XIII, which until recent reassessments was an easy target for being torn to shreds by fans who just want yet another Final Fantasy VII. I quickly had a thronging camp with their own historical and emotional baggage that they wouldn't always tell me about without some prodding and exploration. The mysterious Sharan cleric Shadowheart, the charismatic if sometimes pathetic Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep, Lae'zel the Githyanki warrior with a well protected heart of gold, the adorable yet explosive tiefling Karlach, Halsin who is okay I guess, the genuinely heartbreaking Jaheira, Minsc who I don't have any nostalgia for and seemed very one-note, the vampire Astarion who makes me want to stab him in half his interactions, and Wyll who is practically no-one.
This: one of the best scenes in the game. Period. So much emotion.
With the exceptions of Wyll and Minsc, I grew fond of the entire cast. Karlach is just adorable and surprisingly tragic, Lae'zel has a genuinely compelling growth arc into someone who could rebel against her tyrannical queen, Shadowheart's narrative is both empowering and sombre, and Gale is personable enough both within and outside his magical affliction arc that he's the character I decided from the outset that I wanted to romance. Even Astarion changed from a tolerated presence due to useful gameplay into a compelling and haunting take on the vampire archetype. Jaheira had strong old mentor whose seen one too many things vibes, especially as in earlier Baldur's Gate titles she had travelled with a person very like Durge, so had some historical baggage to unpack. Wyll will always be very weak even with his subplot of a demon contract he made to save his city which led to banishment, but it is interesting that you can let him choose whether he accepts the mantle of Grand Duke or remains a wandering swordsman, probably his only show of agency in the entire game. Completely wasted potential. Minsc is...eh, why was he included? I mean really, why? I don't even find him funny.
But most importantly and surprisingly, I loved Durge as a character (at least in the narrative route I chose to take). They may be a glorified customizable character in form, but in function they have a huge personal arc about their origins as Bhaalspawn, a pureblood child of Bhaal, Lord of Murder and one of the malicious Dead Three. There was a genuinely tense moment where I needed to make a Wisdom check to stop Cai from killing Gale in his sleep. It felt like Cai, a broken amnesiac saddled with a gory destiny by a malevolent god, would find a kindred spirit in a magician who was abandoned by his divine lover. I just felt right. And it culminated at the end with an option where Cai could accept Gale's marriage proposal and say he could have a "true family" at last.
The antagonists, at least while playing as a Durge, are also very compelling. Human agents for the Dead Three dubbed the Chosen, they each have some surprisingly deep and fitting storylines, although you do need to go hunting at times. Ketheric Thorme is a man broken by tragedy who turned to the Bone Lord Myrkul and became his puppet. Enver Gortash was sold as a magical slave to a warlock, and formed a pact with Bane, Lord of Darkness, and became a powerful power broker and politician. Orin, a shapeshifter and murderous psychopath, has a deeply disturbing backstory that I won't describe in detail, but it's little wonder she is so unbalanced, and so jealous of her Bhaalspawn sibling--aka Durge--that she is responsible for their current mindflayer infection, their amnesia, and usurping their place as Bhaal's Chosen. Each Chosen holds a sinister grip over their realms, either through dark sorcery, financial and military might, or old-fashioned terror tactics.
The most tense and non-annoying moment in Act 3, when the Durge's Bhaalspawn origin is confirmed, was when Cai confronted Orin in Bhaal's temple. Orin had been popping up repeatedly using vessels to taunt and test Cai, and finally kidnapped Lae'zel. Honestly, I was completely taken off guard by this, as whoever is kidnapped is random. I'm glad I reloaded and actually won the fight, as the alternative of losing but still "winning" is frankly terrifying. That I successfully defeated Orin and defied Bhaal was a huge narrative rush. It's very well written and the performances in-game both in terms of voice and motion capture are truly compelling. Just sad we couldn't see more from Gale (or any other romanced character) about Cai's sudden temporary death before being revived by another figure who is probably a god but won't confirm one way or the other.
The Durge who seeks redemption and forgiveness fits in with a lot of the arcs in the story. Halsin and Wyll's (hideously underwritten) respective paths are to correct perceived unfinished business, Shadowheart and Gale can go on journeys to break away from divine will, Astarion's whole story is about either escaping an abusive relationship or being broken by it into pursuing power at any cost, while Karlach, Lae'zel and Jaheira are focused on loss and betrayal. Minsc is....Minsc, in as much as he has barely anything and I don't know why so many people like him. That my Durge Cai would help them, steer them away from self-destructive or false paths, would be there no matter what even if it was with some scathing remarks, and create a found family to surpass his bloodline, seemed only right and natural.
The proportions are super off and I decided Cai was kinda into leather, but this is a wholesome scene, I promise.
Something I do like, but wasn't expecting to, is the "Emperor", aka a Mindflayer with free will, aka the Dream Visitor, aka Balduren, founder of Baldur's Gate and both lover and murderer of the dragon Ansur. I can see why a lot of people would hate him, although the game does its best to have him be a sympathetic figure. Even all but forcing you into a "romantic" interlude. I won't say he's truly sympathetic, but I also don't think of him entirely as a villain. In the strictest sense, he never truly "lied", but he did omit swathes of his past to present himself in a flattering way. You can forgive him for that, but I decided that Cai wouldn't trust any mysterious authority figure further than he could gut them, so their relationship remained cautious and antagonistic. It ultimately felt like the Emperor was a tragic figure, someone corrupted by his turn into being a Mindflayer, who lost most or all personal connection over time, and when we turn against him in the end checks out. Some might describe him as toxic, but I think that depends. I saw him as manipulative, but ultimately pathetic and really clingy. Killing him felt like a mercy at the end.
Speaking of which, the ending was...wow. And also hard to get at times as I was going a specific route, and even at max level with some overpowered abilities, I needed to watch it with fighters like the vampire lord Cazador, the Steel Watch guardian Titan, the demon Raphael, Ethel the Hag in her ascended form, the now-zombie dragon Ansur, and of course the Netherbrain itself. And then at the harbour of Baldur's Gate, Cai convinced the mindflayer-turned Orpheus to keep on living and see his dream realised, watched Lae'zel fly away to a new war against the false god-queen Vlaa'kith with a final parting glance that showed real emotion, saw Astarion flee as the sun started to harm him again, saw Gale decide to give the Crown of Karthus to Mystra and begin a mortal life again, and persuaded Karlach to go with Wyll to Avernus to save her life. Then the epilogue, six months later, when everyone gathers anew. Everyone has found some measure of personal fulfilment; be it Shadowheart's quiet life with her rescued parents, Astarion becoming a shadowy avenger for good, or Karlach revealing a plan to repair her heart. Cai and Gale had made a peaceful life together, everyone was rebuilding or moving on or fighting for a cause of their choice. Their pasts no longer defined them. When Cai took the toast to his companions, "[his] true family", Withers made the final toast to everyone present, and everyone cheered, I had genuine feelings flowing through me.
*Down, Down, Down by the River...*
After that bit of high prose, I would also like to remember some moments that were just complete comedy gold. During one bit, Cai went to a disciple of Loviatar, the goddess of pain, and basically getting an extremely intense spanking session where all skill checks were first time. With Astarion and Shadowheart giving snarky commentary in the background. I knew Astarion would make comments from another player's stream archive, but Shadowheart just chimes in and they turn into a background double act. Some of Cai's Bardic responses, such as after interrupting a bugbear and an ogre mid-coitus, were also hysterical. Gale bringing up an erotic book in the middle of a shadow-cursed land is also funny because of its timing. And also flying around a door rather than opening it was so out of nowhere that I just cackled like a maniac.
And apropos of Gale, somehow Cai gave Halsin the hots for him and I ended up in a brief love triangle situation where I had to put Halsin off, talk with Gale about it, then politely turn Halsin down as Gale didn't want a menage a troi. Also Cai had to refuse the Emperor's advances, gently avoid raising the topic with Lae'zel who was clearly attracted to him, deflect the attentions of a pair of courtesans at Wyrm's Crossing, literally fight off a Cambion in the House of Hope-- Seriously, was Cai stolen from the crib of Sune or something because everyone's thirsty for him. If I hadn't been going a monogamous route with Gale, I'd have ended up with a harem by the end.
Also, readers should bear in mind this is just my one playthrough on one story path, where I chose a particular ending to go for. There are Durge endings where they can embrace their path or simply go insane. There are the other "Origin" characters, AKA the rest of the cast barring Halsin, Jahiera and what's his name again, oh right Minsc. Then there are the custom characters, who are generally nicknamed "Tav", though why I'm not sure. But these all feel like they miss a lot of the story context which makes the antagonists and the final sequences so rich and filled with payoff. It feels like a Durge defying their nature is the "canon" playthrough, with others being non- or semi-canon alternatives like Bards telling different versions of the story over time.
So, after all that, what did I do? Well, I decided to uninstall the game. I will certainly play through it again in some form, but not immediately, and probably not for some time to come. I need time to pass, I need to play/watch/experience something else. But I won't ever forget my own journey through the lands of Faerun. The friends I made, the enemies I felled, the stories I began or ended, the hope I sowed, the fate I defied, the times I had.
Good night, sweet ones. And in the words of the Game Master...
Any fan of Doctor Who has at least heard of Douglas Adams's six-party Season 17 finale Shada. Due to industrial action at the BBC, the serial never finished production, and attempts have been made in the 1990s (narrated stringing together), 2003 (radio remake) and 2018 (part-animated remake) to bring the story back in non-text form. But Adams, who disliked the story anyway, found ways of recycling elements of his Doctor Who tenure in his own work. His original finale was reworked into Life, The Universe, and Everything, while a character from Shada was put into his first Dirk Gently novel with enough separation that he wasn't infringing copyright.
Hearing the saga of Shada, and how Adams recycled elements of his unrealized work in later projects, made me think about something of how I approach writing. While it's hard to 'take the L' as the phrase goes, sometimes you have to admit a project can't be realised. It won't work narratively, it's not what you want to do, you hit an insurmountable story issue that can't be fixed without breaking the in-game world beyond repair or rewriting from the top down. It may just be an idea that didn't get beyond the concept stage.
I realise that, in writing, some things inevitably get left at the wayside. It's just part of the process. Recycling other writing isn't just the domain of AI generation, but part of the creative process so long as you're recycling your own. There have been times when I've just had to drop an entire series because it wasn't working for whatever reason, however much that hurts the ego. If it's not working, or you no longer feel for it, why go on banging your head against a brick wall?
There are graduations of abandoned or not-working ideas. It can be something that only gets as far as jotting down a rough premise or a plan, which you leave aside and end up forgetting about. It can be the first paragraphs, or even the first chapters if it's long form, of a story that peters out for whatever reasons. In the worst case, it can be a series you wanted to carry through and complete, but it ended up just not going further than one and a little bit books. I'm not counting the author's death into this example, but a living author just not having the will to finish this work for whatever reason. Quality reasons, market trends, it just not sitting right, anything can trip up even what someone may think will be the defining magnum opus of their existence.
My Cluster Cycle series was, in part, a rapid scrabbling together of multiple abandoned story ideas with the overall concept of sci-fi tales based on old stories. How's that working? Don't know yet, the first one's only just released from a smallish American publisher. And it's early days. Another series I'm writing for them, an adventure series, had a big hiccup where I needed to just abandon a book completely as it was straying outside my own and my accessible knowledge base. I recycled some chapters of it in the penultimate book, so the research and some of the writing came in useful after all, but otherwise that story's lost to time. And I never really liked it anyway.
I'm sure there's plenty of other stories of authors who had to drop projects, or never really liked them and recycled any salvageable bits into their other projects. It's likely a more common story than many might want to admit. Authors, and I know this for a fact, have ten times more story ideas than they can normally put to electronic or physical paper in one lifetime. And sometimes they try putting those ideas to paper, and think 'This wouldn't work in a million years' and leave it in their notebooks to pick up later.
That's not a bad thing. Just because you can't realise one idea doesn't mean you can't realise them all. It just means that idea didn't gel. Sometimes, you need a few years, or a new premise, and something from that other project can be brought back into being.
Oh, and yes I've experienced Shada. I do like classic Doctor Who, and I was curious. Want my opinion? It's okay, I guess. I like the audio version best.
Dragon Age? Dragon Quest? Drag-on-Dragoon?
Dragon on forever? Difficult to tell the difference sometimes.
(Image credit; BioWare)
It's easy for a writer to become derivative. Which is derivative for a start. You just have to look at the numerous games inspired directly by the lore and structure of Dungeons & Dragons, which in turn borrows heavily from the established sword-and-sorcery and pulp fiction, and the work of Tolkien and similar writers.
I took fall to that temptation. Derivative works require less thought than anything else I might work on. I don't say any author's work today can't trace back to something written or conceived years or centuries earlier, but being wholly derivative of some tropes is something I want to avoid except when they serve the characters and narrative. But sometimes writing things like that as an exercise. And sometimes the things that emerged from that become more original ideas.
Take The Leviathan Chronicle. That emerged from me having a deep liking for the Drakengard series, which dealt openly with taboo character traits and religious themes in a way few stories are willing to do. It's the purest form of genre deconstruction, taking a dark fantasy world to its logical end when characters and events are presented in such a distorted way. After all, wouldn't someone who slaughters thousands on a battlefield be called mad today? The Leviathan Chronicle's first chapter emerged from me beginning something in the vein of Drakengard's opening, and then it shifted and changed into something more.
Recently I wrote something that I consider highly derivative. Tentatively titled "Warped City", it emerged in my head for a screwy combination of a certain physical stereotype, Devil Survivor, and Mozart's famous aria "Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen". A modern metropolis where a group of close friends are meeting up in a new metropolis. The goal of the narrative was to have them becoming chosen people who would be pitted against divine fragments emerging in the city in the form of people, altering the city physically or culturally around their twisted worldviews. It's slightly embarrassing putting this down, but it shows how I can have very derivative flights of fancy. But now that it's out of my head, it's not getting in the way.
Whether it's annoying derivative ideas, fan fiction your brain is boiling up out of frustration at another piece of media, or just a standalone scene that doesn't seem to fit in, don't let it fester. Put it down somewhere. It if becomes something interesting, remember it. If not, leave and forget it. It's amazing how many ideas and proposals I've put down over the years have either led to new concepts for current work, or just been a good outlet to stop those terrible ideas cluttering up my work life.
In the months since my personal bereavement, I've had a problem with my writing. It's not been a fatal problem, but it's been a problem nonetheless. I couldn't write about death.
Now there are plenty of authors who've had runaway successes with novels that don't so much as include a bruise or a small cut. I've written them, and plan to write them, myself. But I do feel the need to use death where possible. Like in a murder mystery scenario, for example. I tried writing something like that a while back, a highly fantastical scenario based on Golden Age detective fiction. I was doing well. But when I returned to it in the weeks and months after my bereavement, I couldn't move it forward beyond the fifth chapter.
I just couldn't' reconcile myself to writing about death in such a way. It wasn't as if the death was bloody. That actually made it worse. I find writing about bloodless death more difficult anyway, but since my own loss was bloodless, there was an unpleasant association combined with the story I was writing and the themes I was using for the central narrative. And when I began editing another work I'd completed before the event, I found the deaths there disturbing. And they did have blood. It was as if some deep switch had been flicked. Its message clear; avoid death.
But a few days ago, something happened. I was writing the opening scenario for the next chapter of my current story -- a Shinto-inspired story inspired by series like CSI:NY and the Japanese genre of "Kori no tatakai" -- and in that opening segment two people died. They died in a relatively violent way. I wrote about it, and it wasn't until I was talking to my mother about it that it hit me. I'd written about death, and I'd even written this death-infused premise some days before, and I hadn't felt squeamish.
I've since gone back and read it, and continued writing this particular part of the story. And I haven't actually run up against anything more than my usual problems of creating a compelling narrative within a 8-10,000 word limit. It feels strangely liberating. I've scaled that mountain, conquered at least some of that little thing holding me back. I feel like I can begin again. I can't go back to the way things were. Who can? But I can at least rebuild something, learn from my experience, and no longer be afraid.
A question that can get raised about authors is "how much writing makes a productive day"? This question can be a prickly issue as many authors may not like discussing their working habits, or whatever stimulants are used to fuel the creative maelstrom.
My personal work regime is this. Up and assess my condition, then to the computer to start up and check email. Then do writing throughout the day broken by other activities such as computer-based leisure, walks out, housework, and of course eating and drinking to keep myself from falling over. Through all this, on good days, I can manage between three and five pages. On bad days, such as when I'm distracted or not feeling myself, that comes to two pages. On very good days I can be upwards of seven pages. My stimulants are limited to tea, and then only three or four cups in a day so I don't send myself into a tizzy.
My writing day can vary. It can be over and done in a morning, drag on until the wee small hours, or be finished between the classic 9-5 working day. This is my routine for six days in the week, with Saturdays being days off. And of course I take days off when I'm really under the weather, such as down with a bad bug or in too much pain from some injury or other to focus properly. I also sometimes need to rest my hands. Typing is hard on the hands.
Personally, I consider three pages of writing, or one chapter of proofreading, a productive day. The writing averages out to between 1000 and 2000 words. Without large interruptions, I can complete a full-scale novel in about half a year or less. I did once set myself an interesting challenge; write one chapter every three days until the book was completed. And I succeeded. It was a very long book, with each chapter between ten and twelve pages on average, and it had quite an engaging story for my 2014 period. Though it was rambling, and I now consider it in need of a complete rewrite before being published anywhere.
Things do ebb and flow, depending on whether I accidentally eat or drink something for which I have an intolerance. Sometimes that can last a day or two, sometimes it can last weeks or even months. It's been hard, but I think I'm walking the right path.
A while back, I wrote a post about future projects. Out of them all, I decided upon the one I referred to as "strange blend of sci-fi and fantasy" revolving around pirates. I got into writing the third draft of the first chapter when I made a decision. I didn't want to write another story revolving around human protagonists in a science fantasy world. I wanted something different. And since I've always had a soft spot for canine/lupine characters in fiction, I decided upon that; a world where the dominant species are humanoid lupine creatures called the Okaru.
This gave me much liberation, but also presented multiple problems. I'll do the problems first.
Problem A: They're not human. Obvious, but still a problem. So using human pronouns in a world without humans as a reference is asking for trouble. This extends to terms like "mankind" or "humankind", but also less obvious ones like gender nouns. Using "he" and "she" can't really be avoided if you want to avoid rampant confusion. But unlike a previous experiment with this, using "male" and "female" seems too clinical for what I want to do with this story.
Problem B: Making it both relatable and alien. This compounds and is compounded by the above problem. You need to use some terms because otherwise you risk leaving the reader completely at sea. Conversely, using several terms from the human world can help with translation, but use them too much and the illusion of otherness is broken. Striking the balance between the fantastic and the mundane is something any fantasy or sci-fi writer worth their salt has needed to come to terms with at some point.
Problem C: They're not human, physically. Having these non-humans running around means you need to create something that's not the strictly ape-based bipedal form humans have had for so many millions of years. But the general fiction-reading public is still having a hard time grasping the wilder aspects of the non-human. As proved in Star Trek, Star Wars, Avatar, and virtually every other popular sci-fi story, humanoid characters not only provide easy roles for human actors, but allow viewers to empathise. Some stories such as Solaris and The Uplift War break this mould, but have human or humanoid characters to balance that out. My aim with this story was to create characters who couldn't be played by people in suits and masks.
And now for this story's liberations!
Liberation A: Gender noun freedom. Yes, I earlier cited this as a problem. But it also liberates me from the restrictive letter box style of the English language when it comes to gender. It very much limits based on sight and sound of voice. Someone can changed from he to she or she to he, but what about those who don't identify as either? There are terms for such people in languages other than English, but they haven't actually carried over. Dropping human gender nouns allowed me to substitute them with versions that sound alien, but are based on an existing language other than English. This also provided me with a word that covered people who didn't identify as either. For these people, as suggested by my sister, I used the terms "them" and "they". There is also a better understanding an tribal-style acceptance of these people within Okaru society.
Liberation B: Characters with more potential. As its a non-human society, the world of the Okaru is in some ways less restrictive than our human world. While it has a real-world base (the late 16th to early 17th century period known as the Golden Age of Piracy, where following the Seven Years War, Britain had become the dominant naval world in the world) it needn't follow real-world history too closely. This means it can use an established structure for characters to grow in or rebel against without too many of the usual restrictions. Just so long as it doesn't resort to the get-out of pulling stuff out of thin air. For instance, my lead is a pirate on a mission independent from the usual pirate fraternity, while her antagonist is a military leader determined to wipe out piracy.
Liberation C: Commentary opportunities. Something about the Okaru is that they are distinguished by their fur rather than the human equivalent of skin and hair colour. This offers opportunities to use the Okaru equivalent of ethnicities while also creating striking images for the main characters that the reader can hold in their minds. This gives opportunities for commentary in aspects such as stereotyping and even racism in a context safer than using actual humans. Still hot topics, but with a slight buffer zone allowing them to be an introduction for younger readers.
That's really all I'm prepared to say about my new project for the moment. I hope it can be read someday. And I hope you enjoyed reading about it.
NOTE: Many apologies for my lack of activity between Saturday and Thursday. I was on a camping holiday in Herefordshire with three other generations of family. Not entirely nice due to my inexperience with camping, but enjoyable enough that I'll remember it.
The life of someone trying to get published as an author is hard. You finish one work, and immediately think about moving on to another one once you've recovered. But is there any point? You're not published yet. Yes, there is a point! There is absolutely a point! Stopping at one work won't cut it. Some authors can tenderly refine and improve their work over so many years and strike lucky with an agent or publisher. But that's not my way. You can still refine and polish one work while writing another. And that's not counting short stories, and posts like this.
Right now, I've got between three and four possible large projects to pursue. By large, I'm talking about novels. Short stories can be completed in around a week, though that's without taking editing and proofing into account.
My first possibility is a strange blend of sci-fi and fantasy, inspired by two things; that amazing trailer for Beyond Good and Evil 2, and pirate stories ranging from On Stranger Tides and Treasure Island to contemporary offerings such as Laputa and Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl. Basically the romping tale of one woman's selfless search for a wish-granting island, it's something light and friendly I can do after completing an extremely weighty sci-fi revenge story.
The second is slightly darker, and comparatively easier. A take on Lovecraft where the Eldritch monstrosities he described are simply how we appear in a simultaneous parallel "Other" realm crossing the prose of Lovecraft with the fleshy weirdness of Cronenberg. I'm setting it around North Wales, particularly Anglesey - my home, and consequently the perfect setting for me to describe a place with native detail and twist it using the filter of the Other.
The third is something that occurred to me on holiday, while I was playing the card game Once Upon A Time with my mother, sister and niece. I'd long had the idea of creating a grand adventure in a "classic" fantasy swords-and-sorcery realm which would help question many of the genre's accepted tropes. The role of the hero and "princess", what evil is, the sometimes-contrived events that happen along the way. Combined with the card game's premise of telling and influencing a story based on the cards in your hand to reach your "Happily Ever After" inspired this concept. A grand fantasy world where the hero's actions and events encountered were influenced by a group playing a game in the real world. The only one conscious of this at first is a single player expelled from the game that has entered the world controlled by the cards to tilt the game in favour of winning its freedom from control.
Those are the best contenders. And so, as the title of the post says.... Choices, choices.
Remember my last crazy idea? Well I've been brewing another one for some time. Slightly more fantastical, and just as obscure. It came from watching several movies and absorbing other media related to werewolves. Have you ever noticed that while female vampires are plentiful, female werewolves are anything but. You'd think that werewolf kind was some kind of male-only realm like the Garrick Club. So I thought to myself; what about a female werewolf?
Before anyone says anything, I know female werewolves have been seen. Once. In the final scenes of The Howling. But that hardly counts. And they are present in fiction such as Housman's The Were-wolf, just not mainstream stuff and not often in the sympathetic light shone on female vampires such as Carmilla. In popular culture, the figure of the werewolf is still very masculine, as has been noted in this article on Artsy.net.
So there's the vision I had. Not only is this werewolf female, but it's not the atypical ravening beast so many have come to expect. Imagine this.
You walk through a forest in the dead of night. The moon is full above you, the air is cold and damp from a clinging mist, there are no lights within range aside from the single lamp swinging in your hand. Then you see a form reclining on the bow of a tree up ahead. A humanoid lupine figure with a long tail swinging absently below it. It turns its head, and its eyes reflect the lamp light's gleam. It shuffles and jumps down, standing a head taller than you, digitigrade legs propelling it forward with stately grace. You are frozen to the spot in fear. It speaks.
'A late night to be out. Where are you heading? I'll be your escort, if you wish.'
A woman's voice; deepened and with a subtle growl in the throat, but a woman's voice nonetheless. You nod automatically, too dazed to think clearly. And that night, your escort is a female werewolf. She talks in a candid way about her travels during the night of the full moon, wandering the forest. She talks of flowers, or badgers, of loneliness, of the difficulty telling people she "just wants time to herself each month". You reach the bridge across to the town where you are staying for the night. After a cordial farewell, the werewolf vanishes into the night.
Little do you think that the following full moon, your servant will come in and say,
"A Miss Werewolf to see you. Are you in?"
And even less do you think that the following night would be one of cordial and interesting conversation with a dark-haired lady. Or rather, a lady with dark hair all over her.
This werewolf isn't a voracious monster, but is still a wild thing. She is able to comfortably wander through a land that terrifies and bamboozles normal people, as any woodland animal would. But she hasn't lost either her humanity or her key female elements by becoming a towering humanoid wolf creature. Bear in mind, this is a prototype for a "crazy idea", and needs both time and polish before it becomes anything substantial.
But aside from that, what do you think? What female werewolves do you know about? Please share and comment. Until next time!
Basic setting. A world which has extreme summer and winter seasons, with the story set during one of its prolonged winters. The world is home to a Medieval civilisation that has yet to discover many of the higher sciences modern humanity takes for granted, and whose people are influenced by prophetic shamans and believe in icy monsters that take unsuspecting intruders. During one particular winter, one of the northern capitals is the setting for political machinations, a little slight of hand, and great tragedy as people begin to die according to the shaman's foretelling.
Now you may think I've just described a very basic version of the universe of A Song of Ice and Fire, a series of books by George R. R. Martin which began their creation in 1993. But you'd be wrong. What I just described is the basic scenario of The Ribos Operation, a serial from the 1978-79 series of Doctor Who written by Robert Holmes, starring Tom Baker as the titular alien time traveller and Mary Tamm as his new Time Lord companion Romana. When I first saw The Ribos Operation on DVD, I had heard nothing of A Song of Ice and Fire, and thought it was a nice and fairly novel setting for a somewhat bland narrative It wasn't until many years after I'd heard of both that the similarities struck me.
Of course one could look and see any amount of minor details that don't match up, the largest being the world itself and its context. The explanation of Ribos's status is given in some detail due to outsiders appearing from off world; its seasons are caused by the planet's highly elliptical orbit, and is classed by outsiders as a Grade 3 planet with a protected low-technology society that could not reach the more advanced Grade 2 - and consequently be open to alien contact - for "many thousands of years". The main narrative for The Ribos Operation revolves around the character of Graff Vynda-K, an exile alien tyrant whose goal is to reclaim his lost provinces. This makes him easy prey for a pair of human con artists to sell him a fictional mine of a powerful space age fuel. In the middle of all this, the Doctor and Romana are trying to find one sixth of an important cosmic artefact, and naturally can't help getting tangled up in the schemes of both the Graff and the con artists.
There are far too many plots to count in the current run of A Song of Ice and Fire, but the basic gist revolves around dynastic and international politics between multiple nations spread across several large and small landmasses. It's also incredibly violent in places, with main characters dropping like flies when compared to similar fantasy sagas.
In many ways, the two are as dissimilar as chalk and cheese, but the similar setting and tone suddenly clicked. It just goes to prove, nothing's new when it comes to fiction.
Cronunpiation. I mean, pronunciation. It's the bane of anyone trying to listen to something, someone saying their line, and other such instances of verbal trickery. But the irony is that it only stands out so starkly for someone whose got a smattering of how it should be pronounced.
I was inspired by write this post during a cutscene of the recent video game release Vampyr. It was a mispronunciation that negated one of the key parts of how vampire lore was interpreted. Basically, the main protagonists is helped/teased by a mysterious voice that remains nameless for most of the game. Eventually, his name is spoken and shown in text. It's spoken as "Merdin", but written as "Myrddin". If I'd only heard it, I might have been completely lost. But seeing it written, I understood that Vampyr was blending vampire lore with a combination of Welsh/Celtic folklore and some of the oldest versions of Arthurian myth. I was just so used to "Myrddin" being pronounced something like "Mir-th-in" (that's only a rough approximation so don't take it as gospel) that the "Merdin" version threw me off completely. Trust me, that's just one of several butchered names present in Vampyr (a second example is the name "Aloysius" being pronounced "Aloysus")
That got me thinking about how words and phrases were pronounced, and how pronunciation changed over time. It's something that can be quite fascinating, or deadly boring depending on your preferences. There are several linguistic laws which have sprung up around how language changes (the Grimm's consonant shift springs to mind), but the best way to understand how that can happen is to hear it for yourself.
There's the words that have a stark contrast between how they are written and how they are spoken. Such as the town of Happisburgh in Britain, which is pronounced more like "Hayesborough". One of the most famous, or perhaps infamous, examples of this in a language is French. While in centuries past French words were pronounced more like English words, French today has an abundance of silent syllables and letters compared to English. For instance, the name Phillipe. Now pronounced without much of an "e" sound at the end, it was once pronounced with more emphasis on that "e". There's also the word "Montmartre." Nowadays there's barely any stress on the first "T", but back in older French it would have been pronounced like the other letters.
Japanese and Chinese words are notorious in this regard, mainly because it wasn't until comparatively recently that us poor Westerners had any notion of Far Eastern diction. An easy example is Japan's situation use of "I" and "Y". Depending on the situation, they can sound like what they sound like, but often they are used to represent an "e" sound. This means people could end up mispronouncing "Ryu" or "Raiden" as "R-I-u" or "Raydan". Nowadays such mistakes are quite rare. But it's still amusing to hear anime dub bloopers where the actors struggle with Japanese names. Kill La Kill is an excellent example of this. There is also the pronunciation of the "X" sound from Chinese culture. It has been alternately rendered as "zh" and "ch", A similar situation exists with "Q" being rendered as "chi". This means that some names sound different depending on whose saying them. Who have you heard of more times; Emperor Qin Shi Huang of the Qin Dynasty or Emperor Xin Shi Huang of the Chin Dynasty. A further dimension is added with Chinese-to-Japanese translations, something clearly seen in the 1970s series The Water Margin. Based on the Chinese novel of the same name, its main antagonist is called Kau Chu in the series. This is in fact a Japanese rendering of the main antagonist's Chinese name Gao Qiu.
Right, and that's all folks. This blog post is so meagre, but it's been a hectic week and this just struck me as something to write about. Hope to have something a little better next week.
Hi there! Here's the first in a new sporadic series. It's called "Crazy Idea", and it's where I put out a few of the random titular concepts into the open so I don't forget them, and you can share in their craziness. The idea came to me on Friday morning when my father was playing a CD of concert performances by renowned guitarist and composer Paco Peña.
During a conversation about the flamenco dance, I heard that the moves were influenced by very old European styles of martial arts, primarily defensive moves against blade attacks such as knives or rapiers, plus a few moves related to breaking noses and crushing feet with arm and foot movements. Plus the rhythm of a dancer would lull the attacker into giving themselves an opening for a counterattack. Even if it turns out not to be documented or fully accurate, it makes for a cool idea. This gave rise to my own crazy idea.
A potential character who goes through something akin to the premise of the 2008 movie Wanted (average person trained as assassin, ect.). But rather than the impossible feat of curving the flight path of bullets, this character is trained to use realistic martial arts to the highest possible degree of skill. And the way they are trained to focus and improve their skills is to learn a flawless flamenco. This initially seems nonsensical to both the reader/audience and the character, but later during their training when they are attacked, they are forced to use the only skills they know to any degree; flamenco. The attacker is successfully fended off and defeated.
To myself, and to anyone who looks at this, the idea of flamenco being a realistic means of self-defense might seem nonsensical. But then again, flamenco is about coordination and movement. What better way to prepare someone for real martial arts?
If music be the food of love, play on. Give me excess of it that in sickening, the appetite my sicken and so die. - Twelfth Night, Act 1, Scene 1.
Much - if not all - of media entertainment today is focused at least partially around business. Books need to sell, people need to go see movies, television series need viewers, video games need buyers and often help sell dedicated hardware on which to run. Most times a successful series grows out of a standalone beginning; a movie or TV series that works on its own, a book about a single event or series of events, a game that was designed to stand on its own within a particular genre. But not every cinematic universe takes off, not every game becomes a series or franchise, not every book creates a profitable fictional universe.
In this post, I'm looking at a few examples from various media of fictional worlds that ended before we wanted them to. They could have been created with the supposition that they would be successful and thus continue; but they didn't, leaving us poor people who enjoyed their stories unsatisfied at best and annoyed at worst. They could also have been cut short by something else, from the death of a key creative figure to disputes behind the scenes. These examples ended before the entire intended story was told, with the worst examples ending on unresolved cliffhangers.
Books are strange things. They can be utterly engrossing, completely capture everyone's attention, then plummet into the void of the forgotten and the purgatory of bargain bins and charity shop shelves. The vast majority of books you hear about are either standalone ones that developed into a series (with or without the author's intent) or were always planned as series and succeeded (Harry Potter is such a case, and perhaps its biggest success story). An interesting example is an authorised continuation of Roger Zelazny's Chronicles of Amber. The project was a pentalogy centering on the father of the first pentalogy's main character Conrad. Four out of the five planned books were written and published to dismal reviews and low sales, and the company managing the project went bankrupt before the fifth book was completed. There is also supposedly the aborted "The Fire Chronicles" from Jonathan Stroud of Bartimaeus fame, but I can find no quotes or source for this information, so take it with a pillar of salt.
Movies and television are more prone to this than books are. They have a lot riding on both popular and critical success, and many movies today seem to be focused more on making money than making anything original. This trend can be seen in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, a now-gigantic cross-media canon spanning ten-plus movies and related media projects where just dipping into the middle is not an option; you'll be hopelessly confused. But others have tried at this approach, and failed spectacularly. The Amazing Spider Man and its sequel were intended as the opening chapters of a Spider Man-focused universe involving recurring villains like Green Goblin and anti-heroes such as Venom. But the sequel saw disappointing box office takings and wasn't well liked. The backlash resulted in the entire planned cinematic universe being cancelled, leaving many intended story threads unfinished. Universal's intended Monster-themed cinematic universe fared even worse. Its intended debut, The Mummy, sowed the seeds for several future titles, but met with critical and commercial failure, forcing Universal to cancel its cinematic universe plans in favour of self-contained remakes. This means those story threads from The Mummy, however poorly told, will never be resolved.
Two contrasting examples from television are Firefly and Primeval. Firefly was a blend of Western and sci-fi from the mind of Joss Whedon, but -- like a few of his other projects -- this didn't find success. Firefly is now considered a classic, but the responsible network didn't have as much confidence and due to a combination of mismanagement and consequent low viewing figures, the series was cancelled with just eleven of thirteen completed episodes aired. Whedon had planned to continue for at least two further seasons, but its cancellation killed those plans. It's a miracle that he got the funding and support to create Serenity, a movie which rounded off the series narrative using material planned for the cancelled series. Primeval is slightly different. A science fiction series involving time portals allowing prehistoric and futuristic animals into the present, its initial success saw three series air before it was abruptly cancelled by ITV amid falling ratings. The third series ended on a cliffhanger, leaving those invested in the story (including myself, I admit) a little sore. Two further series were funded for broadcast on Watch and later on ITV, but these too ended on a cliffhanger, and the Canada-set spin-off series -- yet another cliffhanger -- was cancelled after one season. Its somewhat nonsensical plot shall apparently never be resolved.
Video games are the worst in this regard, as the industry is not only highly capricious, but driven by corporate interests that make Hollywood studios seem mild. Several recent projects come to mind. Advent Rising and Too Human were both created to be strong franchises, but a combination of negative backlash and legal troubles caused both to stop at a single game. Mass Effect Andromeda was designed as the next trilogy in EA's Mass Effect franchise; its focus was Alex Ryder, the "Pathfinder" for the Andromeda Initiative, a multi-species push to colonise the Andromeda galaxy. But it was pushed out before it was ready and subsequently saw a mixed reaction, culminating in its team being disbanded and the entire franchise put on hold. Almost all of its remaining story was, and will likely remain, untold. Tomb Raider: The Angel of Darkness was meant to be the first step of a grand evolution of its lead character Lara Croft, but a chaotic development cycle and push to release caused around half the planned content to be cut, and the subsequent critical failure caused the rest of the project to be cancelled, leaving many of the narrative points unresolved.
All of those I've mentioned caught my attention because of what they were; attempts at something grand that were never finished, for whatever reason. Have you any of your own to offer up?
I've been keeping my weather eye on authoress and general font of advice Erica Verrillo. One of her more recent posts caught my attention: from December last year, I bring you a sample of her story of how one of her books -- an early co-authored effort self-published as a second edition -- saved someone from self-destruction.
Five years ago, I self-published the second edition of a book I’d originally written with my friend and associate Lauren Gellman in 1998. The first edition, which was published by St. Martin’s Press, was out of print, and I didn’t want to go through the long, grueling process of finding an agent and publisher again. So I went ahead and published an electronic second edition on Amazon.
After a few months of promotion, during which I gave away more than 15,000 copies, I turned my attention to other projects. I stopped reading the reviews on Amazon — until yesterday, when for some undefinable reason I decided to see if anything new had popped up.
The book is Chronic Fatigue Syndrome: A Treatment Guide, 2nd Edition. At the time of its first release in 1998, there were no other books on the market focusing on treatments for the disease, which is not only difficult to treat, but permanently disables about a quarter of the people who contract it. (In the late 90s, the press was still calling it “yuppie flu.” It is properly called myalgic encephalomyelitis.) The book was groundbreaking. But only 5,000 copies were sold. The book’s release was, as a British friend of mine put it, “Silent as a pee in bath.”
The second edition was about twice as long as the first. (One reason I published the second edition as an ebook was that nobody would have been able to afford, let alone lift, a 750-page book.) I put a year of work into it, which I chalked up as a “labor of love” — something that was a noble effort, if ultimately unacknowledged.
All of that changed yesterday. Below is the review I found of my book. I don’t know this person. I will never meet this person. But my heart was torn when I read this review on Amazon.
Read the rest on her blog. And hope that your writing, or a book you find online or in a book store, can help someone in a similar way.
Sorry for a lack of content last week, but there's an excellent reason for it. I was moving my work space (desktop computer, printer, lamp and other such items) into another room in my current home, separating my work space from my bedroom after several month of growing discomfort of having them in the same space. It's this that inspired my latest post.
The working environment is something everyone has issues with at some point in their lives, no matter how tolerant they are of things. You may wish to be in the midst of wide open spaces when stuck in an office, or vice versa. But how about a working environment in the same room as your bedroom, or your other areas?
This is the state of being I've been content with since my mid-teens, but now I've had enough. It's difficult to think of my bedroom as my little private sanctum when I've got a computer and monitor staring at me. Even moving the bed doesn't really help as it's just there, waiting for me. Add to this the fact that it effectively became my multimedia center for many of those years (playing DVDs, watching television, ect.) and you've got a device that was beginning to intrude upon what that room was originally meant to be -- my bedroom.
This meant massive moving of furniture, but it also meant a reevaluation of what I consider necessary for my work space. A window view? I've still got it, it's just in my peripheral vision and I've only got to glance out to see a beautiful exterior and know that it's a good time to take a walk (or, conversely, a bad time). Quiet? I've got that whichever place I choose. An ear on the wider goings-on of the household? I didn't have that in my room, and I've got that here.
But separating work from pleasure is about more than just separating work from rest. It's also about realising that I'm effectively an adult sharing the house as an equal, not a little kid in his room with his hobby. For various reasons, that realisation's been a long time coming. It's difficult to grow out of things, particularly accepted ways of living. History's full of people who couldn't take a hint. I've tried not to be one of them, but even still...
Well, here I am, writing at my new office space in the library/office area of our house, my room blissfully free of any inclination towards work, the sun setting outside behind nearby forest, the apple trees in the front garden looking stark but alive, my muscles complaining about a week of moving heavy books and furniture all over the place, my wallet noticeably lighter after getting myself a new TV/DVD/CD-Cassette set-up for my room. And I'm not regretting one bit of it.
