Waiting for the Sun to Go Down

There is a low hum. 

A bit of a hiss.

Like that first few minutes on vinyl before the song starts. You can hear the song churning out low and slow. You are in the dark now. Lying on your floor with those huge headphones on. Around you, the world is still going. You have someone in the kitchen cooking a thankless meal. You have a sour man with sore feet drinking a beer who just wants to be left alone in a rundown chair, threadbare and lumpy. You can still hear the world. The trucks are blazing by your house right close to the highway, and you can hear them now ’cause the music is creeping, the notes so muted you can barely hear them.
But they are there; they have a whispered promise, because your friends all told you this was a good record. You spent the last of your Christmas money on it. You are broke again, but the other kids keep talking about how this is the album. So here you are, breathless on the floor of your bedroom, waiting for magic.

The first hard notes that come to you are bass. The songwriter is just laying this down. Getting a good base coat, like that model you made with your father before he started to hate you, when he wasted all that time applying a primer. The bass hits harder, you feel that chord in your chest. Like the strained beat of the heart attack you will have when you’re 40. Too young to die. Not too young to try. Now the bass seems angry, and you can feel it boxing you in. It is trapping you.

Drums come out like a wildfire you once saw when a bolt of lightning hit a field outside of town. The drums blister the inside of your head like the fire blistered the paint on the road sign. You’re Leaving Small Town, Come Back and See Us. But these drums don’t belong here. Not in this tiny burg. Not in your shamble of a room.

You are realizing now that you are in the dark, the only light the soft glow of the stereo volume button. You stare at it like the pistol in a game of roulette. You stare at it intensely because you are starting to sweat now. You are scared. The music has taken over the room. The music has hold of you. You can feel its humid grip wrapped tight around your body. It’s locking your limbs up. It’s bringing you to trembling. With hate of all things mediocre, you grab the knob and hit the volume as hard as you can. You roll the tumbler. You pull the trigger and when the first yowl of the singer hits your ears, you realize you made a mistake. You are in too deep now. It’s too loud. It’s too much.

It’s never gonna be better than this again. The next time you’re here, you will have heard the album, you will be prepared for it. But the warnings your friends gave when they were in the car after school, bitching about how good music doesn’t make it on the air, were too flat. Those warnings, you did not take seriously. Now you’re here. Now you are riding the edge of a razor of Heavy Metal and you are never gonna be the same.

You thank God your parents gave you your own room when they kicked your sister out. No bratty younger brother is going to come in here and snap on the light. At that moment you know you are a bad person, because even though you will not see your sister until you’re thirty, and she will be pregnant with a stye in her eye, bitching about Reagan, you are glad she is gone. Would have kicked her out yourself if you had known this moment would hit you. If you had known this music would take you.

The first song fades and with the loss of the music, you are panting in breathless anticipation for the next song. Screaming from the start, this song has claws and it grips you tight. Painful in the shoulders, bloody, and it has wings and it flies away with you. It has you in the air and terrified. It has you staring down at your life in disappointment because here, when you are looking down at it all, you know she was not alone when you called tonight. You heard that voice in the background and you recognized it. You can’t compare to that guy. And tomorrow at lunch, she will break the rest of your heart in half. She has been taking a dull cleaver to it for years. Tomorrow, the final blow. The song carries you over all that. It’s a deep pain you will carry with you for most of college.

More songs, more crippling realizations, this album has a diabolical heart. It is a sergeant screaming that first day that you are useless after they shaved your head and called you a pansy. It is the dark heart of your teacher who really thought he would make it in the pros but was cut. He is bitter and trying to fail you. Looking for reasons to fail you. This dark-hearted album is a cruel kid with a BB gun. You are a bird with a broken wing. You are flapping in horror.

The next song breaks upon you like a thief in your house at night. More and more it comes to you. It washes over you as you listen, one tragic horror, one mundane nightmare after the next. When the song drops, like a bomb over innocents, you jump to your knees. You frantically crawl to your stereo, and with hurried, traumatized hands, you flip the album, almost dropping it. The needle falls instead of gently resting, and you hear the record wail out one heart-wrenching beat before the song is on you. No soft hum or gentle hiss this time. The song is in full, deep darkness now, and though you wish you could start it over and catch it from the beginning, you know there is no starting it over. The song has you now. You’re in its grasp.

Tony was a bully you faced in second grade and he never hit this hard. You never felt this helpless when he stared down at you, laughing while you cried. This song is the most hateful thing you have ever experienced, and you are not ready. You are not made of the strong stuff it takes to weather this song. The record keeps dropping on you harder and more devastating than you ever thought possible. And helpless, you can only grip tight to the spiral cord of the headphones and pray for the power to hear the next song.
The song stops like the car your drunk buddy will be driving when it slams into a wall. Your neck will never be the same. And when that car will make that horrid, sudden stop, you will think back to this moment as they load you into the ambulance. This is the song that will be stuck in your head. The next song fades like a road flare sputtering after lighting the area.

By the time the end of the album comes, the record has pulled back to look at you, the music gloating over the ride it just gave you. No roller coaster your father forced you to ride was ever this satisfied after bringing you to tears. When dinner comes, you are late. Your mother did not even call you to the spaghetti. Did not even knock on the door. Now the meatballs are all gone and it’s just sauce. But you barely notice.

All the next day in school you are walking like a shell-shocked soldier. Your friends know, and they are gentle with you. They know better than to ask if you want to go steal a six pack and sit out behind the drive-in, honking the horn during the serious parts and laughing. Because every one of them knows you will not come. You will be at home after school, waiting for the sun to go down on your dingy house. Because all day long, they know you have been thinking about your headphones. And the soft glow of your stereo.
This is what it is like for me to write a dark fantasy novel.

This is what I miss during my time off.

I’m just waiting for the sun to go down.

​Jesse is the author of Hemlock and other books. 

​
​

If you’ve ever experienced the dreaded party wipe in gaming or in literature, you know how devastating, unfair and unnecessary it all seems. Yes, yes, and no. It is devastating, and it is cruel. But it’s entirely necessary. 

Many years ago, I was playing Diablo (One, as it turned out), when I heard about trainers – software downloads that allowed a character infinite lives, infinite money, etc. It sounded like a good idea at the time, so I quickly attached the trainer to my game and…almost immediately lost interest. You see, without the threat of death, the cost, and without the gradually doling-out of increased wealth and equipment upgrades, the game – or the novel – is robbed of its dramatic tension and suspense.

Okay, you say, sure. But a complete party wipe? A Red Wedding? Yes. It’s the same concept on a larger scale. If such events don’t happen every so often, the world in which they transpire won’t seem quite as deadly and, ironically, as real. Because these things do happen in the R.W.  Consider the French and Russian royal families. Or the Alamo. Or the 54th Regiment at Ft. Wagner. Or Custer’s Land Stand. Okay, in retrospect, that one was gratifying, but I’m certain it wasn’t so gratifying to the relatives of those lost.  And there are smaller, more relatable tragedies – entire families lost in car crashes, botched burglaries, etc. I don’t mean to suggest these events are remotely entertaining; rather, I hold them up as things that do happen in life and must happen in fantasy.

We’re a funny people, we readers and/or gamers. We’re willing to believe in elves and aliens, but ask us to accept a world in which the “good guys” never die? No. Effing. Way. And that’s because, on some level, we need it. We’ve all lost loved ones; we all will. We know that life can bring boundless joy, but also despair. Even in the midst of experiencing that boundless joy, some of us are constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And the ancients knew it, too. Look at Greek Tragedy. Or Elizabethan and Jacobean. Oedipus and Hamlet have to die. Siegfried, too. And this brings us what the Greeks called “Catharsis” – a purging of pent up emotions, thought and proven to be healthy for the viewer. And again, it rings true. Lincoln was assassinated. Gandhi and MLK, too. The hero dies. Of course, I’m not advocating for this in the R.W. But I’m saying it happens. Too often.

Sometimes, though, it gives rise to another useful dramatic device: revenge. While it’s not always socially acceptable, revenge is something most of us crave at one time or another, but are not always able, for whatever reason, to execute or obtain. So, it satisfies something rather dark within us, some sense of schadenfreude, to see it carried out in fiction and in games. And perhaps it prevents us from caving in to our baser impulses.

Now, sometimes, an author will bring the hero back, an event, of course, that does not happen in real life. Heck, I’ve even been guilty of this device. But it has to serve a purpose, to fit into the larger narrative. And there has to be a cost. What will it be for Jon Snow? I can’t begin to guess, but I am certain it will be both awful and profound.
​
Just as it should be.

Greetings, I am fantasy writer Richard Writhen. Allan Batchelder suggested that I write a piece for this blog that addresses some of the myriad inspirations that led to the formulation of my works. No one can list them all, but I will attempt to scratch the surface. To begin with, let me just say that the influences that eventually become evident in one’s work are going to be different for every artist. No two people have the exact same signature, or fingerprint, just as each individual human being’s tastes in food or entertainment are going to be different. I remember getting into my uncle’s comic book box when I was a kid; I would spend hours looking through them, including old Starlogs and Vampirellas and magazines of the like. He even had a hardcover copy of Stephen King’s It floating around. In hindsight, it may have been a first printing. But I only flipped through it at the time, as it was only later that I could cognitively consume prose. I saw so many eighties genre films when I was a boy: The Return of the King, Cat’s Eye, Twilight Zone: The Movie, Tales From the Darkside: The Movie, Fire and Ice, Wizards, the Black Cauldron movie, Starchaser: Legend of Orrin, The Goonies, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Beetlejuice. I saw The Thing, Clash of the Titans, Dragonslayer and Excalibur for the first time on the videodisc format.
 
I read The Lord of the Rings when I was around 13 years old, actually after I had read more of Stephen King and Clive Barker’s early work. I had seen the Rankin Bass film years earlier in the mid-eighties. I read Falling Angel by William Hjortsberg in my early teens as well and was quite taken with it. I had also gotten more and more into comics, my absolute favorite being Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman. With hand-painted covers by Dave McKean, that title was like nothing I’d ever read. It’s first real miniseries, The Doll’s House, effectively altered what I felt could be done within the medium. I was also quite taken with Dan Brereton’s The Psycho, Gotham by Gaslight, The Killing Joke, The Dark Knight Returns, and Tapping the Vein. I didn’t read the Watchmen graphic novel until years later, when I heard that the film would soon be coming out. I had greatly enjoyed Zack Snyder’s version of Dawn of the Dead and wanted to see what he could bring to what is considered Alan Moore’s masterpiece. I also got into the Gladstone EC reprints, possibly aided and abetted by my love for the original Creepshow comic book tie-in by Bernie Wrightson. Around the turn of the millennium, I bought my first dvd player so that I could play the New Line Cinema special editions of Fight Club and Se7en, which I had just about worn out on VHS. They were very extensive, the FC one going so far as to include both domestic and foreign commercials for the film. I went on to become something of a film buff, but that had really started on VHS; I went through a long exploitation film phase where I saw such films as Irreversible, Cannibal Holocaust, Nekromantik, Naked Blood, In a Glass Cage, Funny Games and the like. But if you want to see a real masterpiece … Cannibal! The Musical. Trust me on this one.
 
A friend loaned me The Alienist in 2011 or so. At the time, I was actually working in Manhattan, so it was kind of funny to read this Victorian serial killer story and then half the locations were familiar from my day to day life. It was epic; I enjoyed the sequel even more, The Angel of Darkness. They both have a very grimdark tone. I also began to read many of the Barnes and Noble classics that I could afford at the time. The Call of the Wild, Heart of Darkness, Ivanhoe, Great Expectations, Oliver Twist. My sense of dialogue is probably most influenced by Richard Price and Dennis Lehane. If you want the best, the most fluid and believable dialogue, most of the time you need to go read a crime fiction novel. Characters in those kind of books for some reason talk just like people do in real life. The three Price books I’ve read are Lush Life, Bloodbrothers and Clockers. The two Lehane books I’ve read to date are Mystic River and Shutter Island. All are highly recommended, and the dialogue is first rate. Some modern novels have been very influential … A Head Full of Ghosts and Disappearance at Devil’s Rock by Paul Tremblay, We Eat Our Own by Kea Wilson, The Heroes by Joe Abercrombie, Prince of Thorns by Mark Lawrence, and Beyond Redemption by Michael R. Fletcher to name a few.
 
Oddly enough, I also take influence from other mediums as well, such as the visual arts and even some forms of music. I am a heavy metal enthusiast and listened to a good deal of it while writing my first three novellas. I’ve mixed it up with soundtracks in the past year or so as I work on my fourth one and a lot of short stories. Paintings influence me; I like the baroque period best. The darkness and the heavy religious themes such as the saints, martyrs and deities echo my work and that of other comparable dark speculative fiction writers in a way. All that stuff soaks into one’s prose and colors it, flavors it, and hopefully makes it more entertaining in the long run. So just to catch up to the present, I’m currently working on my fourth and (possibly heaviest so far) novella, The Angel of the Grave; the projected release date is May 1st, 2018. Also, my first three novellas are available on Amazon KDP if anyone is interested; I also have a decent variety of free content and reviews on the web via my WordPress site and various other blogs. Thank you very much and see you around the web!

For more on Richard and his work, go to:

​www.amazon.com/Richard-Writhen/e/B06XT6DMF3/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

British actor and director Christopher Selbie has a go at Steel, Blood & Fire in the run-up to a full audio version!

​soundcloud.com/user-431713100/steel-blood-fire-demo

A Mouth Full of Grit: Writing Grimdark Sci-Fi and Fantasy
By C.T. Phipps

Fantasy has a bad reputation with casual readers, in part because literature snobs have an issue with it (I know, I work in academia) and because a lot of people just don't understand the genre. Their experience with it was the Hobbit and Narnia when they were younger or Disney films. The Lord of the Rings and A Song of Ice of Ice and Fire along with their adaptations in the past two decades have done a lot to change that but the reputation of it as a somewhat childish genre lingers.

Interestingly, this attitude persists in fantasy fandom as well with some of them believing the genre has been polluted with far too many Tolkien-clones that lack the original novels complexity and depth. Indeed, part of why A Song of Ice and Fire was so well-received was that it was a darker and edgier take on the genre with not only realistic consequences to events but showing just how horrible the usually idealized Middle Ages could be.

I, myself, am a fan of writing grimdark and work which pushes the envelope of traditional fantasy rules. My sci-fi novel, AGENT G: INFILTRATOR, was created with the premise of, "What would a novel be like from the perspective of the corporate samurai bad guys who work for the megacorporations?" I thought of my space opera LUCIFER'S STAR as following up the equivalent to Return of the Jedi but lacking a heroic Rebel Alliance to replace it but a far more cynical "realistic" revolution. Finally, WRAITH KNIGHT stars a Dark Lord and tells the story of how someone might become one with the greatest of intentions.

I'm not quite as gritty as some authors but I thought I would share my advice for those who want to try to be a bit darker and edgier with their writing. Here's ten tips which I've found useful when creating my stories.

1. Flaws make the protagonist
 The first piece of advice I have for any writer when creating their protagonists is DON'T try to make them likable as that's actually counterproductive in many places. Flaws make protagonists more interesting and things like bad attitudes, greed, old grudges, and more are what generate reader interest. "The Good Guy" is the most absolute boring kind of character you can create. Indeed, some of the best novels have been thoroughly awful people who are, nevertheless, interesting.

2. Bad decisions have consequences
Bad decisions happen all the time in books as heroes are expected to violate common sense. They go back for the man left behind, they try to rescue the princess, and go into battle against forces which heavily outnumber them. Which is why you should have these bad ideas...fail miserably. Not all the time but enough that it makes the setting work better. Like the hero bravely turning around to face the attacking horde then getting knocked out and all of his men slaughtered.

3. Good doesn't mean right
Similarly to the above, it's a good idea to have the most moral characters challenged in their actions. Say Prince Such and Such receives a bunch of refugees from outside of his kingdom which he fights the nobility for the protection of. Make it so this leads to other consequences like overcrowding or, if you don't want to make him the bad guy, a massive riot from the racist citizens which leads to purges. Decent actions can be hard and there's no guarantee they'll work out.

4. Happy endings or not
Happy endings are something which aren't terrible to have but it's also good to make things not quite as neat as they could be. Tolkien knew this when he had Frodo unable to cope with normal society and need to go to the Blessed Realm (which is a metaphor for premature death if I ever heard one). But yes, maybe the orcs are still around and will cause trouble for years to come. Maybe it turns out the girl who the hero has been pining for the entire time doesn't like him, is married to someone else, or is gay. Maybe the bad guys weren't entirely defeated but one got away scott free in the end. It makes things a bit more bittersweet and (again) interesting.

5. People are complicated
It's important to make sure you layer your cast with multiple dimensions. Bad people should have good qualities, even if they're monstrous terrorists who love killing, maybe they have a fondness for fine art as well as a love of children. Maybe the king who is kind, compassionate, and a decent ruler is an unrepentant misogynist or considers the peasants to be people who must obey him by divine right. Throwing in these complications makes the reader uneasy for getting a handle on them--which means they pay more attention.

6. Violence is not fun (except when it is)
Violence is inherently exciting but making it heroic is often a cheat for the reader and there should be opportunities to make it more visceral as well as upsetting. Having awkward like a mook running away, only for the hero to instinctively shoot them in the back or the smell which accompanies the disembowelment of another person with a sword is good. It makes the violence have punch rather than be a sanitized affair. In the original Star Wars there was a lot of blood leaking out of the guy who lost his arm in the Mos Eisley Cantina. Then there's the chaos and brutality of a large scale battle, which might end up in war crimes depending on the time period. These details can make battle and its aftermath more engaging prospect for readers.

7. Society sucks 
To make a gritty sci-fi or fantasy novel you should definitely make a world where there's lots of casual corruption as well as injustice. These should be features which the heroes can't actively engage with. Everyone expects it from the evil Empire but if the world just has no easy answers then it's a place which will feel real to most of us. The petty evils of bureaucracy, indifference, and so on should be everywhere even during the worst of struggles. 

8. Kill your darlings
Characters have to die in gritty works. If you can develop them before they die, so much the better. It helps to make individuals who are likable, on the protagonist's side, and who suffer a grizzly fate for their goodness. It also makes sure even if you're not going to kill or maim your protagonists that the audience isn't sure about any of their supporting cast. When developing a story, set aside some characters to be slaughtered like lambs on the altar of good storytelling.

9. The Smell of the Streets
The streets should always smell in gritty fiction. They should have the taste of asphalt, desperation, and sadness. You should always make sure to assault all of the senses of your reader when writing as that will make things stronger​.

Hopefully, these tips will help you write a grittier, darker, and better story.

​You can learn more about C.T. Phipps at:

www.amazon.com/C.-T.-Phipps/e/B00L32LLDY/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1511634431&sr=8-1​
​

Some writers may find the task of world-building daunting. But if you were lucky enough to grow up like Sherman Alexie, George R. R. Martin, even or Stephen Colbert (or me), your deep and lengthy experience with Dungeons and Dragons makes the process feel like donning a favorite pair of old jeans. You are already aware, for instance, that magic must have a cost. You understand that occupied cities and territories have governments. You know that money makes the world go ‘round. In short, you’ve been dealing with the minutiae of world-building – other people’s and your own – for so long that’s it’s become almost second nature.

But what if you never played Dungeons and Dragons?

Well, that means you were one of those kids. You know, the ones with actual lives, with friends, with things to do! We D & D fans generally named our orcs and kobolds after you. But let’s suppose that now you’ve seen the light. You never played D & D, but you regret your shortsightedness and would now like advice on how to proceed with this world-building business.

Easy.

That’ll be 25 gold pieces.

I’m not kidding.

Okay, I am kidding, but it’ll cost you 250 experience points.

Fine; I’ll help you.

Consider the world you live in. It’s a poorly held secret the George R. R. Martin did so when creating his Song of Ice and Fire. The whole “Game of Thrones” universe is famously modelled upon the War of the Roses, between the Yorks/Starks and Lancasters/Lannisters.  This was his skeleton, his framework. From there, for example, Dorne is Spain. Meereen is Cleveland. Kidding. I think. But if, as I said, you do consider the world we live in, you’ll see a veritable checklist of questions to be answered. Questions like: Is there religion? If so, who or what is worshipped and what does this look like? Why does it happen and what, if anything, do the faithful receive in return? If there is religion, are there also non-believers? How are they viewed and/or treated? What does the calendar look like? How many seasons are there? If you have more than one moon, what are tides like? Are there nights of multiple full moons? What is the light quality like on those occasions? I mentioned money earlier. What passes for currency in your world?
​
Literally everything you encounter in our world can have its fantasy analog, you see? Here, do this exercise:
We have buses, they have…
We have McDonald’s, they have…
We have WWII, they have…
We have Exxon, they have…
We have crack, they have…
We have Cuervo Gold, they have…
We have coffee, they have…
We have Motel 6, they have…
We have football, they have…
We have Westboro Baptist Church, they have…
We have the Red Cross, they have…
We have ATMs, they have…
We have Disneyworld, they have…
We have tornado alley, they have…
 
Make a game out of it. Play it with your kids. Or your neighbor’s kids. Just don’t offer them candy. But do play it. Answer all the questions you can, and then let your mind loose in your new world. Have at it like a Weight Watcher in a Krispy Kreme!
 
You will love what you discover.
 

And now we go 180 degrees from Ulff to fantasy author Molly Ringle. Talk about contrast!

​ 
A few weeks ago I posted about a topic I was pondering: namely, the more I read of currently popular fantasy, the more I see a huge focus on weaponry and fighting and the protagonists being (or becoming) martial arts geniuses. I stick with these books if, as in The Hunger Games, they're written really well and the plot and characters are compelling. But I've got to admit that violence and weaponry and action scenes are not my favorite things. They're never the parts I re-read for pleasure (that would be the love declarations, or some particularly amusing exchanges or incidents, or passages of beautiful writing describing something magical). I don't particularly like writing fighting-and-weapons scenes either, though sometimes I have to, given the way I've set things up. So lately I’ve been musing about how to set up a fantasy book so I can spend as little time as possible in violent weapon-related scenes and still create a really good read.
 
I think this is what appeals to me about the Harry Potter world, and stories like Howl's Moving Castle: we get a lot of time to hang out in the magic world and enjoy it, and when there's fighting, it's almost solely with spells and with using one's brain. When Hermione actually uses her fist to hit Draco, it's all the more startling and satisfying because of the usually non-violent mood.
 
I should add that surely a lot of the issue is that I personally am no good at weaponry or martial arts. I took fencing one time in college and was the absolute worst in the class at it. I lately have learned a little bit of tai chi, which I guess technically is a martial art, but the movements go so slow that I wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone with it unless I accidentally poked them in the eye while sweeping my arms about.
 
Still, I understand the benefits of including mortal peril in a story. Practically every novel needs to have it in the climax at least, and all of my books do, though it rarely involves wielding a weapon. In my paranormal/fantasy stories, it usually comes down to creative use of magic, sometimes to defeat the thugs who brought conventional weapons. Wishful thinking, I know.
 
But it’s worth mentioning that one of my favorite book (and movie) series of all time, and one of the fandoms that has sucked me in the deepest, is The Lord of the Rings, which is hardly free of swords, arrows, axes, and epic battles. So why do I adore it despite the lavish attention to gleaming armor? Well, for one thing, Tolkien writes really beautifully. But for another, as in the above-mentioned case of Harry Potter, we get quite a lot of non-battle time in which the characters are wandering wonderstruck (or fear-struck) through amazing settings, and having endearing conversations, and we as readers get to soak up the atmosphere and just hang out in Rivendell or Moria or the wastes of Mordor.
 
Also, some of the most important feats in Tolkien aren’t pulled off by armies, but by very non-martial hobbits. We have not only Frodo and Sam creeping their way up Mount Doom to destroy the Ring, but Bilbo too, back in the day, sneaking around to outsmart Smaug and Gollum. And then—ah ha—it is once again all the more powerful when our peaceful Samwise picks up Sting and manages to drive off the scariest and biggest spider ever with it. It’s equally powerful when Merry and Pippin volunteer as soldiers, a role that puts them completely out of their depth and makes us fear instantly for their survival. So having characters not be in their element in fight situations can result in some of their most memorable scenes.
 
The flip side applies too: it’s intriguing when a competent fighter is put into a situation where fighting won’t help. (Lord of the Rings uses this too. Sure, those tough Haradrim and Corsairs can bash their way through anything, but can they bash an army of ghosts? Nope. Ha.) In short, the scholarly Tolkien knew that while it’s fabulously useful to have brute force and weaponry on your side, it’s equally important to be smart, humble, creative, and/or caring, even if you’re hopeless with a sword.
 
My latest book, The Goblins of Bellwater, has a setup in which there’s not much use trying to fight the goblins, who are immortal shape-shifters. The only way to defeat them is magic, via specific and bizarre rules set by other fae. “They better give you one hell of a magic sword to take with you,” says one of my characters to another. And she answers, much as I myself might, “I’m hoping it’s more like a magic shovel. I don’t know how to use a sword.”
 
May your adventures be fruitful, whether your strengths lie in the blade or the book, or somewhere in between!

Molly's latest is out today, The Goblins of Bellwater!

Grimdark: Realism in Fantasy Fiction
 
Recently I was interviewed by Charles Phipps, a fellow author, who asked me, among other questions, about the "grimdark phenomenon."
Grimdark is speculative fiction with an edge. For some that edge pokes out from the neck of an impaled person, a la Vlad Tepez's quaint hobby, as seen through the close up lens of a technicolor x-ray camera; for others, including yours truly, it is more the absence of the shining heroic stuff far too many commercial fantasy novels (and scifi) have been accused of, think Star Wars only that instead of robot limbs flying from a lightsaber attack it's actually more humanoid torsos and such. You know, not the glossed over crap that far too many PG 13 movies and such annoy the world-weary watcher.
In a different conversation the question was asked if we all saw grimdark as "just realistic fantasy." A term that might seem an oxymoron, but if inspected closely reveals the school of thought behind it. Some folks insisted that, to use the above impalement analogy, one had to see every square inch of intestine being perforated by less than pleasant characters. Vlad Tepez actually had a goal in mind when he impaled people, he didn't just do it for fun. Yet this specific definition requires the protagonists (a term only fitting in the sense that they work against someone, the antagonist, and not to be confused with the stereotypical 'hero') to have an alternate view on morality. Which would be okay, if that "alternate view" did not wholly consist of utterly vile behavior like, you know, killing children and raping women, usually before, during, and after every meal.
Granted, our 21st century sense of morality is still tainted by the notions of archaic religions which were and still are quite happy to vilify and persecute and even kill those whom they perceive as heretic. Humanist thoughts may have a place in speculative fiction, in fact they should have their place; after all, Conan of Cimmeria frees slaves. And many a fantasy story has the noble king, the noble knight, the benevolent woods witch, and wholesome, family friendly warfare in which blood rarely flows and people has as many gender identifying properties as Barbie and Ken. And the same bathroom needs.
The fallacy, in my opinion, of "there are no heroes" is that "everyone is a villain." It's the same fallacy as "without light there's only darkness." Ask a blind person what darkness is. There cannot be darkness without light. Maybe it is too philosophical a topic for many, but the point is: how can anyone be a bad guy when there are no good guys? If everyone is a villain, then everyone, by the same measure, is also a hero.
I've tried reading books with everyone a villain, aside from the all too boring torture-porn-esque bloodshed, the people being portrayed have no redeeming features. They kill and murder and rape their ways through the story, utterly contrary to the Fellowship of the Ring, but just as boring. (How many times can one read that some character gutted a foe and said foe's guts hit the floor? How many times can one read that the item they carry is EVIL? Same difference.) To compare the omniscient narrator in Tolkien's epic to a contemporary slaughter-fest is unfair, stylistically Lord of the Rings is of its time, and narration-wise there may not be as many differences, but since an author, at any time, needs to be put themselves into a character's frame of mind, such an immersion into a psychopath's thoughts is nigh impossible for anyone of sound mind – thus the near omniscient narrator who can eschew the more intimate details going in. If, however, an author uses his writings as masturbatory fantasies, as a "How I'd do it" kind of thing, worry. The latter is something I don't want to consider, at all, and from the looks of it neither do the splatter-grimdark authors.
Why? Because to understand a monster you need to become the monster, at least on a deeper emotional level. That readers, or viewers, find such stuff enjoyable is beyond me, but even there you won't find that many people who will say "Oh, I want to be like Hannibal Lecter or Jigsaw!"
Violence for its own sake is nothing to be proud of or to be interested in… unless you are a psychopath or sociopath. Rape is nothing to be proud of or to be interested in, other than wanting to use extreme violence on the rapists… okay, violence directed at bastards is something I can get behind, but there is a difference: the target of such violence! According to the "everyone is a villain" school of thought, a rape victim is also a villain, thus, in logical conclusion, "deserving" of the rape, same goes for whatever random killing-spree victim number fifteen. Since everyone is a villain, killing anyone is okay. In this type of scenario even child rape is okay. (Throwing up yet?) And therein lies the fallacy, dare I say idiocy of the "everyone is a villain" school of thought.
Rape is an act of domination as much as it is a sexual act. If two consenting people have intercourse, there can be no rape. If the society considers 14 the age of maturity, and some asshole pushes himself on a woman who clearly says "No!" you have rape. There is no scenario in which this is okay. Fuck the "differing moralities" argument some use in defense of grimdark. If an author wants to portray a society that says rape is okay, turning anyone person of that society into a viewpoint character should not be to glorify that society or person. "But he likes his dog" is not a valid argument either.
The danger inherent to the "differing sets of morality" argument is that it can be used to glorify such aspects, encourage people to live out their fantasies. It can also reveal the author's twisted personality. Furthermore, think on this: rape of Jews was perfectly okay in Nazi Germany.
Twisted and dark can mean a lot of things, but if "everyone is a villain," it gets far too easy to say "the victim deserved it." And frankly, I am not okay with that.
I'm not saying everybody is a hero either. Sometimes, if you want to get things done, you need to get your hands dirty. Dirty Harry, Martin Riggs, Blade, none of them are heroes, but neither are they villains. Yes, they are anti-heroes, they are protagonists, and yes, they have a different code of ethics, but not of morality. If that were so, Harry Callahan would shoot the woman holding her baby while the crook is taking her as hostage.
Neither am I saying that protagonists have to be all virtuous. A goody two shoes character with no flaws is as boring as a serial killer, from a character development point of view.
Grimdark should, in my opinion, fall in the middle.
The good vs. evil trope is old, I'd guess as old as monotheism. Why am I saying monotheism? Because in the plurality of a polytheistic society, evil was indeed a matter of perspective. If a god was everything, he was both good and evil, so in order to make the god more important and glorious adversaries needed to be the opposite.
But in the end, it was a person's actions that made a person. Was Odysseus a hero? Only to the Greeks, the people of Troy he was the enemy that brought down their city. But he was definitely not a good guy. Good guys are boring, evil guys are boring, and in our world, the real world, most people fall in between both sides.
In Lord of the Rings it was Boromir I could identify with the most. He wanted to use the "evil weapon" to defend his people. In a world where good and evil are so clearly defined, there is no middle ground. Not really. Sure, in the worlds of D&D we have neutral as a third element, but that neutrality gets put to the test in certain situations…
Imagine this:
"Rape is good"
"Rape is bad"
"I don't care"
 In some instances there is absolutely no middle ground! In such cases it is either right (I rescue the rape victim) or wrong (I rape the victim, and not doing anything is basically the same thing). The hero's path is always good, the villains path always evil, in a world where there is identifiable good and evil.
In Grimdark, like our real life world, there is no good and evil. Just right and wrong.
Sometimes the lines get blurred. Most of the times, with the exception of such things like rape and genocide. I intentionally left out cannibalism for one simple reason: Uruguayan Air Force Flight 571, an instance where cannibalism is definitely not wrong. After all, they didn't kill folks to eat them, they ate the already deceased.
In fantasy the trend was, for the longest time, good clean PG-13 fun. People may die, but it's never violent. Ask any victim of war, it's never family friendly, otherwise we would not have any refugees but mega sales for whatever snack-food these people consume as they observe the battles on their sofas. Combat is bloody, and definitely not nice! Reality has the annoying habit to ignore diverse ratings boards. Pesky reality. Unlike the movies, and many family friendly fantasy novels, living wasn't nice and easy as a farmer's child, or as a soldier in the front lines. History is full of battles were warriors had to wade through entrails and blood and feces, that is nothing spectacular, to them, or to anyone who has been in a war zone, so these people are bound to not be as traumatized as a non-combatant caught in the middle. (Then again, being caught in the middle of two clashing medieval armies usually meant one turned into minced meat.) But even the "civilians" had more experience with blood and guts than us 21st century folk. Nowadays we buy our meat at the supermarket, neatly packed, pre-cut, ready to be cooked. How many of us can say that we have taken part in the butchering of a pig or piglet or cow or calf? How many of us see butchers doing their work with blood being swept onto the street in front of their shops? Not all of us are hunters, most of us have never shot a gun at anything other than some sort of non-living target, or seen blood from more than a paper cut. Some of us have had broken limbs, or worse.
But frankly, seeing a broken leg with the fractured bone ends sticking out and the victim screaming suffices to drive home the fact that we are fragile creatures. How many of us have ever truly considered how the meat for our steaks is gathered? How many want to?
Grimdark is a reaction to the glossed over stories of shining heroes in shining armors whose swords never rust or get bloody and who still win the day. Who knows, maybe even those heroes' shit shines? We cannot identify with heroes. Sure, we would like to be Luke Skywalker, or Samwise Gamgee, or any number of archetypical folks, but fact is: more often than not it is not the bad guys that die! We're far too jaded, far too bombarded by the shit that goes on in the places of power to still buy into the delusion that the good guys win and the bad guys lose. We learn that before Pearl Harbor, American oil companies did smashing business with both sides of the Second World War. That normal people do not matter to the folks we elected into power. That most bosses don't give a flying fuck about their employees' wellbeing and will fire people just to see their stock prices rise.
If bad guys were the ones to die, we would not have such "leaders."
We know all this. Which is why we have more and more trouble, the more we know, to accept the heroes of yore. The guy who rescues a potential rape victim is just a guy, a hero to the victim certainly, but a lawbreaker to the officials because he also broke the rapist's jaw and nose. In fiction, such a character might be the protagonist, and he might not only break a few bones but the rapist's spine for good measure, because he has seen firsthand how rape victims wither. Hells, he might even kill the rapist. Not only that, but he might get away with it as well. – Not the actions of a "good" guy, but certainly the actions of a guy.
We don't need heroes, we sure as fuck don't need more psychopaths and sociopaths, but we need people, flawed and broken, who despite all that do what needs to be done. That to me is grimdark. That to me is realism in fantasy.


​(Allan, here. To learn more about Ulff, go to: www.amazon.com/Ulff-Lehmann/e/B01M3NGFOL/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

I'm planning to bring on some guest bloggers shortly to expand the dialogue and include other indie writers. In part, it's because I like these folks. In part, it's because I want to learn more myself. And in part it's because if I'm blogging, I'm not working on my books. I'm really looking forward to reading their stuff, and I hope you'll check it out!

​If you’ve been following along, you know I’ve done a number of interviews about my books, myself, and my writing process – whatever that may be! One of the questions I get over and over and have even attempted to answer on occasion is, “What advice do you have for new authors?” The subject is so large that I vacillate between flippancy and despondency. Sometimes, as I’ve hinted, I don’t even try to respond. But it’s been four years since the release of Steel, Blood & Fire, and I do have a few thoughts.
            First, if you’re an indie author in the first five or ten years of your career (as I am), put everything you make off the sales of your books back into your books, into advertising, critical reviews, better and better book covers. Using any of this so-called “profit” at this early stage is like expecting your newborn to chop the winter’s firewood. Your book/s will need all the money it/they can get, and then some.
            Second, the internet used to be called the “World Wide Web.” Make your presence on the internet a web. Put your name and the name of your book in every location you possibly can, and, if possible, link it with similar works by more well-known authors. Put your name and novel(s) on LinkedIn, Goodreads, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Snapchat, Google+, Ello, Niume, Pinterest (I could go on) … Make it easy for Google to find references to you. And register with Google. Get your own website, too. Join blogs and forums.
            Third, don’t turn up your nose at Facebook. It’s given me the best bang for the buck over the past four years. And explore/join its many author and genre-related groups. You’ll make some friends, get some great – free! – advice and learn about your competition.
            Speaking of which, fourth, join a competition. Don’t be shy. If you can write, it’ll show. If you can’t, you’ll learn. If you’re going to put your book out there for people to buy, you should have some confidence in it. Enter that contest! The worst thing that can happen is you’ll get bounced and everyone will forget you ever entered. But if you win…
            Fifth, of course you must read other writers in your chosen genre. Learn from their choices. Think about what works and what doesn’t. But also read unrelated books. Find out what makes any sort of book readable or unreadable.
            Sixth, be friendly with and supportive of other writers. I mentioned competition and competitions above, and I fully subscribe to what I’ve written. At the same time, I don’t believe I’m in specific competition with any particular writer or group of writers. My mission is to become the best me, to tell my best stories, in the best way I can. If I can do that, I do believe success will follow…eventually.
            Seven, be patient. I have read that is it an author’s body of work and not a single work that sells. Understand that. Realize that you must have several books out there before you become recognized – unless your first book is a phenomenon, like Ready Player One. But even that sets a daunting precedent. Look at the guy’s second book and its reviews, and you’ll see what I mean. Sometimes, early success can set the bar too high.
            Eight, be yourself. Some of my early reviews sound too author-y, as if I felt I had to prove I was legitimate. Screw that! Be yourself! Be your wonderful, weird, quirky self. I’ve been doing that more and more of late, and, if nothing else, it’s fun for me!
Best of luck, and feel free to email me with questions!