I don’t often watch music videos, but sometimes there is one
which you at first just happen to see and then want to watch again just because
it is so good. (It’s even better when you also really like the song.) I usually
love Parlotones videos, but this one – “Stars Fall Down” – has especially been
on my mind lately.
You can also read my post on "How to study in the real world" and Finish Year 2012 by clicking here.
The actual reason for
writing “A Dragon’s Freedom” was to write about the life of the dragon Skáhag who plays such a
vital role in the later years of the Midlands of Airthai. His death was
actually the first thing I wrote about him (poor thing!) as part of the story
of both the forming of Naeddre and the love story between Ameragh and Síldu. At that time I was
writing a novel about the Midlands (no, it will never see the light of day in
its current form – it was practice, or so I tell myself now) and I had built up
the people of Naeddre’s mythology of Skáhag. But I needed to know where the dragon came
from – and what it was doing in the Midlands in the first place.
Seat-of-Pants Worldbuilding
So, while this story was
the first published, it was set in a world I already knew quite well. But, this
was all written before the creation story of the world and the story of the
sundering. I had just made up the Dragon Guardians on the southern coast and
already had a vague story about a ‘not-very-nice’king of the Midlands who
gathered dragon tears for riches. Now it was just a matter of putting the two
together.
I wanted the dragons to
be simply animals in the world (albeit talking animals). So, like any animal,
it would be ‘good’ until treated in such a way that it lashed out. Skáhag had been mistreated
during his life, and bound by magic to a master, so that his fight was as much
against humans as the darkness created within him. When Ameragh sings to him a
song that releases its bonds, his death at the hand of his master is
bittersweet as he is at last freed.
By this time the
(somewhat) secret language used by the Dragon Guardians and dragons was already
present in Ameragh’s song (Here’s the song). I then decided that, because it
was so powerful, that it was only known by a select few – the Dragon Guardians,
the dragons and the Seafolk’s elders, although they knew it to a much lesser
extent. This language was gifted to the Guardians and the dragons in much the
same way the Tellerassar was given their own language. Therefore, if the king
stole a dragon egg, he would need someone who could communicate with the
dragon. Enter Nasja...
A boy called Nasja
The first scene of the
story which popped into my head was the dragon’s nest and a boy stealing one of
the eggs. At first this was supposed to have been done because of greed on his
part (and he was older). But that didn’t sit well with what I had in mind for
the rest of the story. For me it was a lot more striking to have him do
something which is taboo for Dragon Guardians in order to save his family than
simply do it for payment.
The next scene I wrote
was of Nasja in the king’s palace. Although I needed a reason for him not to be
able to escape, he probably would not have had a banged-up leg if it wasn’t
that my own bad knee (the right one, not the left – see, it’s complete different…) was extremely
painful that day![1]
At this point, I planned
and wrote the rest of the story in a rough draft. When I had finished it,
however, I realised that I had had Nasja basically act alone and didn’t really
give him cause as to why he would suddenly, after a good ten to twelve years,
decide to free the dragons and go home. I left the story to stew, pottering
around every now and then and then turned my thoughts to some other short
fiction and worldbuilding while I figured it out.
Next week: Worldbuilding shape-shifters and magicians
[1] Mine is banged-up from ballet, though, and not being kidnapped and
dragged over a desert... Cold weather, however, doesn’t really care how you ended up hurting yourself.
Drum roll, please (or
vuvuzela if you are so inclined, but I would prefer drums. Or bagpipes)…
The big news I have is
that a big medieval and renaissance studies symposium is being held later this
year – and my study leader has asked if I would like to propose a paper to read
there. (I did a happy dance and then, very professionally said ‘yes’.)
To top it off, the theme
for this year is “Mortality and Imagination: The Life of the Dead in the Middle
Ages and Renaissance”. Of course I will have to do something with all the dead,
undead and ghosts you find in the Icelandic sagas! I’m leaning towards the Eyrbyggja saga (Saga of the Ere-dwellers),
in which many ghosts, corpses and undead feature. The zombie apocalypse, saga style.
And, like another professor once said: “Gore can also be fun”[1].
For instance, take this
quote from the saga (Chapter 53):
But when two weeks of winter
were worn, the shepherd came home on a night, and went straight to his bed and
lay down, and in the morning when men carne to him he was dead. So he was
buried at the church there.
A little after that great
hauntings befell; and on a night as Thorir Wooden-leg went out for his needs,
and turned off aside from
the door, when he would go in again, he saw how the shepherd was come
before the door. Then would
he go in again, but the shepherd would nowise have it so; and Thorir was
fain to get away, but the
shepherd went at him, and got hold of him, and cast him homeward up against the
door. At this he was affrighted exceedingly; yet he got him to his bed, and he
was by then grown coal-blue all over.
Now from this he fell sick
and died, and was buried there at the church; but ever after were the twain,
the shepherd and Thorir
Wooden-leg, seen in company, and therefrom were folk full of dread, as was
This is also big news
for me because, if my paper gets chosen, it will be the first one which I give
at such an academic get-together. And sometimes you just need someone to
believe in you enough to ask something like this to make you believe that you
can actually do it.
So, for the next year,
there will probably be a lot more mythology, sagas and folklore posts on the
blog. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I do!
[1] We were busy with Frankenstein
as part of Literary Theory and one student asked why we were doing such a “gory
book”. In her dry way the professor simply smiled and said “because gore can
also be fun”. And then people wonder why I love my studies…
[2]Translation
by William Morris. This and other Icelandic Sagas can be read and downloaded at
the Icelandic Saga Database: http://sagadb.org/
The last night of the year is always a
strange one. All the hopes for the New Year seem to hang in the air. Lists are
made up with wishes for the New Year, much like adult Santa letters starting
with “I want...” Many (most?) parties have too much alcohol involved, leaving
everyone sloshed by midnight. This I have never understood – I do not want to
start a new year, to turn a new leaf either drunk, praising the porcelain god
or with a hangover.
It may just be because I don’t care much
for alcohol. My ‘cheese and wine’ supper (traditional in our house) became a
‘cheese and coffee’ affair. Why? Because, while I brought some lovely cheeses,
those I only splurge on at this time of the year, I completely forgot about the
wine part. (Yes, for me that is easy to do.) But I did have a small bottle sparkling
wine to toast the New Year with. As you can probably gather, I had a one-person
party.
Now, before you go and pity me; it was
completely by choice. Not only did I want to be home to keep an eye on my pets
if neighbours decide to shoot crackers, but also because I wanted a quiet evening
thinking the year over. And sometimes it’s better to chastise yourself when
you’re alone. A Gollum-like conversation coming from one person can freak
people out. (Of course, I never speak to myself, I speak to the cat.)
I am not sure if he really cares about my
resolutions for the New Year, but maybe he just made the resolution to “sit
and/or play on my slave’s papers more often”. This is because I will definitely
have more papers, books and those cat toys I call pencils around. You see, the
one big thing I did chastise myself for was not finishing things. The second
was for letting small things get in the way of big things.
As to not finishing things – I have a whole
file full of half-started or half-finished stories. But, even worse, I did not
do nearly as much to my studies as I had wanted. Somewhere along the way I got
sidetracked. I ended up wasting far too much time and letting the year slip by without
being able to catch up again.
So, I have made some resolutions for the
New Year, but this time I will make the goals a lot clearer. At the top of my
list of ‘bookish things’ is to finish my degree this year. There, I have said
it. It is now carved in Internet-stone. I have given myself the task of
finishing the written piece by the end of the year.
My writing goals for the year are to work
on my sketch writing/ flash writing. I am not going to try and write a novel. I
will use the time I have at hand to do as much as I can and I will not let time
get sucked into the bottomless pit of the internet or watching ‘whatever is on
TV’. I will watch my few programs (about 3 for the whole week) and the news and
that’s it. I will keep movies and DVD marathons for Friday movie night (and not
every night...).
I will also write a review for every book I
read – and if I do not like a book, I will put it down and not force myself to
finish it! This won’t be a scholarly review, mind you; it will mostly be a
‘this is what I thought’ review, even if it is only one paragraph.
Added to that, I want to spend more time
just being silent. I want to sit on the stoep and drinking a cup of tea when I
come from work and unwind for a moment. I don’t want to be burned out by March
already!
To everyone, I wish you a wonderful and
blessed 2012!
O, and keep your eye on this blog for some
big news in the next post!
One of the earliest songs I can recall hearing and seeing a music video for, was one of Koos du Plessis’ songs. Titled “Sprokie vir ’n stadskind”, or “Fairy tale for a city child”, it also formed part of various Afrikaans poetry lessons. Much like his “Kinders van die wind” (Children of the wind), it is a beautiful and haunting piece with multiple layers of meaning. Of course, about twenty years later, the song’s meaning to me has grown and evolved, but I can still remember the whole family watching the bittersweet song on the television. Du Plessis made his own translation of the song – “The neon rainbow” – but I could not find it. So, I made my own translation. It is posted below the Afrikaans text, along with a video where the song is sung by Du Plessis.
Sprokie vir ‘n stadskind
– Koos du Plessis
As die reën van stof en roet verby is,
en die rook verdwyn,
sal daar in die sterrelose hemel,
’n neonboog verskyn.
En kyk maar goed,
want as jy hom vind,
vertel ek vir jou ’n sprokie, my kind,
van ’n skatkis met ou kettings gebind
aan die neonboog se punt.
Volg hom elke nag oor swart riviere,
oor kranse van beton.
As jy aanhou stap vir tienduisend ure,
sal jy dalk daar kom.
Maar hier moet jy jou nimmer laat bind,
want so lui die ou, ou sprokie, my kind,
as jy geluk en vrede wil vind,
soek die neonboog se punt.
Volg hom elke nag oor swart riviere,
kyk nie eenmaal om,
dalk vind jy die land
van blou saffiere
en, dalk, ’n brokkie son.
Fairy tale for a city child
When the rain of dust and soot has passed,
and the smoke disappears,
a neon rainbow will appear
in the starless sky.
And look well,
for if you find it
I’ll tell you a fairy tale, my child,
of a treasure chest bound with old chains
to the end of the neon rainbow.
Follow it every night across black rivers,
over cliffs of concrete.
If you keep on walking
for ten thousand hours
you may get there.
But here you must not let yourself be bound,
for so runs the old, old fairy tale, my child,
if you want to find happiness and peace;
find the end of the neon rainbow.
Follow it every night across black rivers,
do not look around once.
Maybe you’ll find the country
of blue sapphires
and, maybe, a small piece of the sun.
Have a wonderful weekend! A Agrai tellarias or s’agrélar silássa.
For this Friday’s inspiration I’ve chosen one of JRR Tolkien’s poems; “The Mewlips”. I first read it in the Tolkien Reader and it forms part of The Adventures of Tom Bombadil. And there is a video where Tolkien reads the poem linked underneath the text of the poem!
Do you have any eerie or scary poems you love? Or perhaps a favourite monster? Have you created you own type of monster, perhaps? (During your worldbuilding, of course, not in your basement using some lightning rods and illegally harvested body parts.)
The Mewlips
The Shadows where the Mewlips dwell Are dark and wet as ink, And slow and softly rings their bell, As in the slime you sink.
You sink into the slime, who dare To knock upon their door, While down the grinning gargoyles stare And noisome waters pour.
Beside the rotting river-strand The drooping willows weep, And gloomily thegorcrowsstand Croaking in their sleep.
Over the Merlock Mountains a long and weary way, In a mouldy valley where the trees are grey, By a dark pool´s borders without wind or tide, Moonless and sunless, the Mewlips hide.
The cellars where the Mewlips sit Are deep and dank and cold With single sickly candle lit; And there they count their gold.
Their walls are wet, their ceilings drip; Their feet upon the floor Go softly with a squish-flap-flip, As they sidle to the door.
They peep out slyly; through a crack Their feeling fingers creep, And when they’ve finished, in a sack Your bones they take to keep.
Beyond the Merlock Mountains, a long and lonely road, Through the spider-shadows and the marsh of Tode, And through the wood of hanging trees and gallows-weed, You go to find the Mewlips - and the Mewlips feed.
Here are some great artist renditions of the Mewlips:
It seems that, as the year hurtles towards the end, my mind also gets more scattered. It may be because it’s the time of year when you’re working with two diaries – and trying to remember which day you’re actually busy with. Or maybe it’s just because winter is long forgotten (here, at least) and the holidays are beckoning. Whatever it is, I’m finding myself working on a couple of short stories simultaneously, even though the themes, worlds and even genres are quite different. The one story that seems to be flowing at the moment is called “Stolen Time” for the time being.
I thought it might be interesting to take a look at the workings behind the stories I’m writing at the moment – or have already written. People often ask me (and most writers or writerly types) “Where do you get your ideas”? The thing is, I rarely know. Most of the time an idea just pops into my head from seemingly nowhere. “Here but for Grace”, another WIP, started when I saw how awful I looked in a dressing room mirror. Another idea gets planted while I’m on the treadmill and staring at the opposite wall – usually a good time for world or story building! This week I’ll focus on the main story I’m busy with at the moment.
WIP – Stolen Time – Behind the scenes
So, where did that story idea come from? “Stolen Time” is a sci-fi short story, set in the not too far future. The light bulb lit up when I heard about someone being sentenced to quite a couple of years in prison. Add some ponderings about time while washing the dishes and voila! A story which has nothing to do with the original people, crime or judge is born…
When the main character takes the blame for a crime someone else committed, he gets thrown into a hopeless world and starts to wonder whether what he did was really worth it. Throw in a bit of freaky technology, a couple of corrupt officials, questions about justice, life and death – and who deserves either of these – I’ve given myself quite a story to write.
Why write it then?
Because, now that I’ve started the story, I need to see how it ends. I need to answer these questions myself, for myself. It’s really as simple as that. The story needs to get out, it needs to be told. By writing a story, I can take different viewpoints (some very unlike my own sometimes), measure each, see how they will work in a certain context and have a jol doing it.
Research can be fun – and disturbing
All went well until I reached about 2,500 words. The main character was established, the world was established enough for the first draft and I had reached one of the main scenes of the story – a death scene. Basically, it is the death of someone whom you might say deserve it. You weren’t supposed to feel very sorry for him when I set out to write it. But, when it came to writing the scene, I found I couldn’t make it a black and white scene. Gray entered and, with it, more conflict (which I guess is a good thing). So, I scribbled some margin notes and continued on, but then I realised I needed to know more about human decomposition timelines than I’ve learned from shows such as Medical Detectives, NCIS and the like.
After some reading I wish I did before having gone through the trouble of making dinner – I did manage to write a decent first draft of the scene. The biggest problem with this scene will be balance – the last thing I want is a gore-fest slapped in the middle of the story. There’s a certain amount of gore which I’m comfortable with writing (or even reading), but there is also the right amount of gore for a specific story. If you’re not setting out to do a “lone hitchhiker with a love of chainsaws and the colour red” story, there’s really no need to go all-out with the gore factor. I’m quite happy to leave the details to the reader’s imagination. After all, when you write about decapitated human heads being catapulted over a city wall, you don’t need to write about every blood spatter[1]. This is probably one of the scenes I’ll have to edit or rewrite the most once I’m done with the draft.
All in all, I had a good writing night – about 800 words after all the research. Tonight, I’ll tackle the next two (luckily) corpse-free scenes. And maybe even enjoy dinner tonight!
[1]If you’re going WHAT! o.0 at this moment; this happens in Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. And no, every speck of blood isn’t described.
