Ring Realms · Dynamic Fiction

Putting it all together

We have the tools, let's see if we can't put them to use. Apologies to folks who don't read fantasy or science fiction. It's what I write. However, style and technique is universal to fiction. While the rules and content may be different, the tools used to put the reader in the story are the same. Any writing "authority" who tells you they aren't "qualified" to provide feedback on your work based on its genre has questionable credentials as a teacher.

Genre is an issue of taste, not one of style or technique. I might be bored to tears by a fictionalization of someone's autobiography. I might never have read one. I can still tell the writer when a piece of description is unclear or a transition is too abrupt. It is true that each genre has its unique pitfalls and rules. Someone well read and versed in your genre's intricacies should eventually review your material to address those particular issues.

The biggest concern, that of how well the story is portrayed, any good writer or editor can evaluate. If you didn't do a good job creating an immersive piece, what value is there in knowing that you didn't follow guideline x for your target market? Critique on your material should be based solely on how well you tell the story. Suggestions should involve how to make the story more vivid and engaging. The content—what the story is about—should be between you and the editor interested in buying it. Period.

The only valid comment is in this area is whether the content will sell. Even that no-one can accurately predict anymore—the bookshelves are full of books I would put down after the second paragraph. Somebody bought those—someone might buy yours.

Note: In this first example. Annawen's dialogue is handled with '<' and '>' instead of standard quotes.

This scene is late in the material long after I established that when she "speaks" other people hear it in their head (telepathy). The '<' and '>' are a visual tag that immediately identify her as the one communicating.

Corim awoke from a fitful sleep to the sound of splashing. The unexpected sounds made him sit up. It took a moment to focus on the source of the noise. Morning light streamed in through the bay window. Dust motes danced in the beam that reflected sparkles off the luxuriant carpeting. Annawen reclined naked in his sunken tub, idly toying with the soap bubbles in the steaming water.

She wasn't here because of the reverb this time. She and Cassin had seen to it his power would stay off when he turned it off. Every time he looked on this fetching woman, he wondered why he wasn't more drawn to her. Perhaps it was her overwillingness to bed him that kept him at a distance. She smiled at him and stretched languidly, giving Corim a tantalizing view of her soapy gold body. <Good morning, Sleepyhead.> He sat on the edge of the huge four poster bed and rubbed his face. "What are you doing in there?" She raised an eyebrow. <Is there something else you do with water and soap?> He sighed.

"Why not use your own tub?" <That question is as silly as the first one.> Corim drew a breath and counted to five. Annawen cut off his response. <You've got these outmoded notions about women. They don't have to be fragile and shy, nor do you have to be this shining chaste knight to be attractive. It's clear you're interested in Dulcere.> She shook her head. <Consider the 'ifs' though. That's if we find her, and if you can interest a woman eight-thousand times your age.> She smiled wanly. <In the meantime, we could still have sex a few times. Sharing doesn't mean we have to be permanently committed to each other.>

I picked this scene because it has attitude. It's not a fight, in fact it's like a love scene turned sideways. Both characters communicate their feelings verbally and visually and we know how they feel. Interestingly enough—the word 'said' never appears in the whole passage.

Here's a little handling of dialect and speech patterns to keep an exchange interesting.

"You be stuck on her, of that I be certain." Corim looked around startled. For all his mass, the hulking dwarf moved like a whisper. Dac grinned up at him and pulled at the strings on his leather hauberk. "What makes you think so?" "The wind blowing through your hollow head, Lad. I seen the look before, had it once me self. Truth told, ain't never got over it.

Hurts worse than a half-century of battle scars." He eyed the stern-faced dwarf. It had taken a while to get used to Dac's gravely tone and bluntness. Perhaps his frankness was what Corim liked. Having two war-masters around certainly hadn't made his training easier. "So, you look ready to go. It's that time I suppose?" Dac pulled at his mustache.

"Aye, Lad, time to put the spike in the wall and see what we open up." Corim heard footsteps and saw Beia coming toward them dressed in her travel leathers. Her bow Snowfire, was slung over one shoulder and she used Eboneye the spear as a staff. "Ready to go?" she asked. Dac nodded. "Me and the Lad will hold our end." He grimaced. "Can't say I'm screaming happy about this time traveling dross." Beia folded her arms, holding the spear in the crook of an elbow.

"It'll be okay. Cassin knows what she's doing." "Lass, ain't what she knows that concerns me. Never did like being popped about by mages, always made me want to throw dredge." She nodded and laughed. "You'll get through it." "Aye." He growled low in his throat.

Now lets go for something completely different.

Without apparent concern, Idun greeted Odin's charge with shoulders back and chin up. She toyed with her hair, and brushed at her armor as though the approach of this assemblage of juggernauts was nothing but a harmless parade. Odin stormed at the group looking as if he would ride right over them. "Don't flinch," Idun's voice whispered in Bannor's ear, even over the deafening crash of the Aesir's charge. He guessed Idun spoke to them all because Sarai jerked at the same time he heard her voice. Resolve hardened the expressions of the others.

From a full gallop, the massive war-god boomed to a stop only a pace from the goddess. Rocks and dirt bounced around her feet and a thick cloud of dust drifted over everyone. The eight-legged beast tossed its head and snorted, its breath making Idun's hair flutter. Behind them, Tymoril and Kegari growled. Winged helmet pulled low on his head, and a jeweled patch over one eye, the craggy-faced Allfather glared at them, his single blue eye flashing. He slammed his giant war spear Grungir point down into the turf at Idun's feet.

On Odin's right, one-handed Tyr reined in, his russet mane of hair and braided mustaches threaded with bones. On the left, Loki had halted his horse, and stared at them with folded arms. A goddess in gold robes that Bannor guessed was Odin's wife Frigga held up directly behind the leader. A bald god with a smooth blocky face halted at her side. Decorated in an entire arsenal of weaponry, he wore nothing more than a pair of dark breeches to cover his rippling physique. Bannor guessed that he must be Thor's brother Vidar, the warrior Euriel warned them about.

His role appeared to be protecting Frigga. Seven more deities made up the Aesir war party, five more men, and two women. Bannor didn't know their names, or anything about them except they all looked capable—powerful—each one able to rip apart a continent if they desired. "Idun," Odin spoke her name in a voice that sounded like a roll of thunder. He raised his chin and arcs of lightning danced around him. "You stand your ground like one confident of winning." The corner of the goddess' mouth quirked.

"I stand my ground like someone who hasn't done anything wrong." She sniffed. "That and because we will win." "Insanity!" Tyr blared, raising a war axe. "Milord let me—" "Silence!" Odin halted Tyr's tirade with a raised fist. Blue fire crackled around his hands as he stared at their group. "Idun, your perfidy is complete..." As he spoke, Loki rose in the saddle with a smirk. "By collaborating in the slaying of your immortal kin, Hella, you have sealed your fate and that of all who willingly served you.

It is our honor-bound duty to cleanse the Aesir of your murderous presence—" "What—?" Daena burst out in a voice so loud that it stopped even Odin. "Not this nonsense again! Know wherefore you speak, lord all father. She can't have killed Hella—because Hella isn't dead!" Idun looked back at Daena with a raised eyebrow, then glanced at Odin. He drew himself up, a vein pulsing in his temple. "What manner of foolishness is this?

Hella is dead, Loki has seen it for himself." Daena put hands on hips. "Oh, right, you believe him!?" A fist seized Bannor's chest as Deana stomped forward, shoving past Jord to stand within reach of Odin. "You only took his word because it suited you. Well, I have had enough!" Flames erupted in her eyes. "You posturing blackguards won't disguise your agendas by pretending some righteous defense of my memory!" She swung her arms up as if tossing off a garment. Daena's form shredded away like a snake's old skin as another larger shape split it apart—the imposing figure of Hella.

Her hair turned to flames, and shadows wrapped around her body. Sparks flashed from fingers that now ended in talons. Chest heaving, she brandished a fist at Odin and swung around to glare at Loki. Her voice took on an echoing quality that resounded across the field, snapping like a rimy gale. "Do I look dead to you cretins?! Do I?!

I started my life over to escape the petty squabbling of you blustering self-righteous thugs and your insipid bellicose arrogance. If you have a grievance against Idun that must be resolved by bloodshed—so be it. All my strength is with her. So, if I am dead this day. Odin will be my killer—not Idun. The High Jury should withdraw support of this self-serving injustice before irrevocable harm is done." She pointed a glowing finger at the gods behind Odin.

"You are warned." She spun on her heel and strode back toward the group. Eyes wide, Idun stared at the other goddess. "Hella?" The flaming apparition didn't respond, she moved stiffly past Idun and Jord. With each step she shrank, a green light flickering around her body. By the time she stood by Bannor and Sarai, she had returned to her identity as Daena. Bannor stared at the young woman.

He hoped that Idun wouldn't learn of the duality she shared with Hella. Now, it appeared Hella was more alive in her than they guessed! Sarai tightened her grip on his arm, gaze shifting from him to the girl. Daena turned and faced the enemy, hazel eyes glinting in anger. Even Odin was struck speechless for a moment. The gods in his contingent murmured and stirred.

The Allfather glowered at Loki who shrank back with a dismayed expression. Odin's jaw set. Straightening in his saddle, he squared his shoulders. "We are neither amused, nor fooled by this trick. The penalty for slaying an immortal is execution of the perpetrator and all associated. Sentence to be carried out immediately.

Our word is law. We have spoken." He nodded to Tyr. The one-handed god stiffened, a moment of doubt registered in his expression as he met Odin's gaze. A distant rumble grew stronger as the two gods eyed one another. After a moment, Tyr sagged in resignation. "Kill them," he growled, gesturing with his axe.

"Kill them all."

Granting that all of these examples are out of context, the majority of the action and what the characters are doing is both clear and visual. In the last example, there are more than a dozen characters interacting. Purists might find some looseness in the example prose, but what beginners and experts alike should focus on is the visual and visceral techniques at work. Notice that people move, they gesture, the quality of their voices are described, emotion is communicated not only in the dialogue but in the body language as well. The details of characters, even late in the story are still reinforced for the sake visual clarity and simply to remind the reader. Another key element is, that while there is a great deal of description, it is done in action, through a character's viewpoint.

The story doesn't come to a screeching halt while the omniscient narrator chimes in to tell us about it. The details and description are given to us "in-line" or "on-the-run" as the story is unfolding, one or two details at a time—or a short paragraph if the action and visuals are complex. All of the techniques together have a significant impact on storytelling, both making characters more vibrant and giving the story itself greater texture and life. Simply put—good story is shown not told. Well-written exposition with strong voice can entertain, but vivid and visual narrative from a clear and dynamic viewpoint can enthrall. The moment we as readers are drawn into the story—the moment we suspend disbelief. . . we are hooked.

Getting the reader hooked is what fine fiction is all about.