Unspoken laws of fantasy fiction

While fiction is itself an exploration of human imagination (and some might add an exploration of ingenuity as well) it must remain bound by laws if it is to impact the reader’s thinking in a positive way. The writer’s philosophies, persuasions, convictions, all of these things create the laws that bind their fiction. And this is a necessary difficulty for the writer because without laws fiction can confuse minds, even persuade them of non-factual things as factual. The unreal and imagined can be made to seem more important than reality.

If a reader is of a confused mind, or a troubled mental state, they are prone to falling for falsehoods. If a reader is, for example doubtful of God’s existence or is inclined to wish that God were not a supreme authority in the universe, the right fictional story could turn their mind against that authority. Fiction can create an excuse, which is a means of escape from the reality.

Truth and lie can be confused in story in such a way that it reinforces confusion in the reader. It may even persuade them that they are not accountable to the same laws that we know to be right and good.

For example, let’s say we have a fantasy story where the main character, a male protagonist, goes through multiple tragedies. With each tragedy he becomes angrier. First at the perpetrator of the tragedy, then at himself for not stopping the tragedy, and then at God for not stopping the tragedy, and then at God for not giving him the means to stop the tragedy. “If there was a good God then why would this have happened?” he would ask himself. Then later, as the story progresses, he submits that there is no God because cause A should have led to effect B. Therefore God, if he exists, is not good but indifferent or, worse, is himself evil.

Now to most readers this sort of transformation in the protagonist’s mind would seem tragic. We would see him as slipping into self-delusion as a result of his reaction to the tragedies he’d experienced. We would pity that protagonist, perhaps enjoy the journey as he seeks out revenge on his adversaries, but little else.

But to other readers this transformation becomes one of their own minds. They who suffer tragedy and feel just as the protagonist does. Instead of blaming the fallen sinful world in which the events occurred, they blame God. These readers find themselves relating to the protagonist, even learning from him despite the fact that he is a fictional character.

This is the power of fiction. This is the power of storytelling. This is the heavy responsibility of the writer.

To show that the man who falls to this is not a hero, but instead to show the negative consequences his thinking. Or, better still, to show a protagonist who rises above the tragedies and humbly accepts his bitter role in the created world. These are unspoken laws of fantasy fiction, to deliver truth and instruct in good and not in evil. To demonstrate what we should be and to show the consequences of wrong actions and even wrong beliefs. We look to show the good and encourage the faithful.

Q: How do you think writers should deal with unspoken laws of fantasy storytelling?

How Star Wars impacted my thinking on stories

I was probably around nine years old. I remember sitting in my grandfather’s living room, my eyes glued to his television. He had an extensive collection of VHS tapes and he was fond of science fiction. That day he played Star Wars: A New Hope… and with a few swings of his lightsaber Alec Guiness convinced me that Ben Kenobi was the coolest sort of hero.

Yep, I’ve been a fan ever since! I love looking back at that moment when I saw Star Wars for the first time. I can recapture that sense of amazement experienced only in that first moment of discovery. I already loved stories. I read extensively and wrote quite a few of my own fictional pieces, yet up to that point I think space opera and fantasy had not entered my realm of creative thinking. My first brush with anything close to it had been Pilgrim’s Progress, an allegory of the Christian life that feels fantasy-ish.

In Star Wars I recognized the value of different strong personalities in story. Han Solo of course would not let anything water down his swashbuckling attitude. He opposed everyone on his team and loved everyone at the same time. Ben Kenobi took every perilous encounter in sober stride, wisely weighing the consequences of his actions and of those around him. He was feeble yet in his eyes was a playful, indomitable will. He would not be denied. Even R2D2 and C3PO possessed unique personalities that made them generationally memorable.

To my young mind these characters were the catalyst for an amazing array of story possibilities. I remember staying up late at night telling my own Star Wars spinoff stories to my brother and sister. In childish fun these spinoffs often degenerated into silliness. (I remember one particular tale where Princess Leia met up with Emperor Palpatine and turned her own powers on him, thoroughly decimating him).

Looking back I realize that all of those silly spinoffs were the continued growth of my creativity.

Star Wars stories helped me realize that storytelling has no limits except those that we place upon it. What you imagine, you can create. What you fear, you can face. What you aspire to be, you can become. Strange places that don’t even exist, you can visit.

The imagination is limitless and its power is exploration to reveal to us the elements of story that matter to us. The elements of story that define the choices we make. The characters whose interactions help us understand how we want to interact with people in real life. The characters that help us understand why we find certain people more interesting than others.

Q: How did the stories you enjoyed as a child impact the person you are today?