***BRANDON SANDERSON’S RULES OF MAGIC***
You’re probably wondering why I’m posting a blog entry about
Brandon Sanderson when I haven’t read a single one of his books (yet). Well, it
all began when I started seeing the author’s name plastered across many Good
Reads forums and status updates. I had to check out what all of the hubbub was
about, so I looked him up on Wikipedia. Not only is he a fantasy author with
many accolades and publications to his name, but he came up with three rules
for magic powers when writing stories. These rules were designed to cut down on
Deus Ex Machina situations and present something that was believable to even
the most skeptical audiences. Adam Blampied, a contributor to the pop culture
website What Culture, once complained that magic didn’t have any boundaries and
therefore created too many unseen variables and impossible situations for the
heroes. He has a valid point, one that I’d like to answer with Brandon
Sanderson’s three rules for magic:
- An
author’s ability to solve conflict satisfactorily with magic is directly
proportional to how well the reader understands said magic.
- Limitations
are greater than powers.
- Expand
what you already have before adding something new.
When it comes to my own writing, I may have broken these
three rules at least a dozen times, maybe two or three dozen. I haven’t had any
complaints from my readers about Deus Ex Machina endings, but that doesn’t mean
my magical stories didn’t have the potential for them.
For example, some of you may have read a short story I wrote
called “Dark Fantasy Rock Goddess”, where a singer-songwriter named Autumn
Smith hires a sorcerer mercenary named Bloodshark to be her bodyguard during a
performance in a rowdy orc bar. Bloodshark has the ability to throw lightning,
ice, and fire spells willy-nilly with as little or as much power as he wants,
no exceptions. I never established limits on Bloodshark’s powers nor did I
specify what they were until the battle scene. He ended up slaughtering the
entire audience of that orc bar with his magical abilities alone. Because
Autumn has no magic powers of her own, she’s helpless against Bloodshark and
succumbs to his might. The point of the story wasn’t the magic itself; it was
the twist at the end where Bloodshark reveals himself to be an obsessive fan
who doesn’t take no for an answer from any of his female clients. That twist
could have very well been my saving grace when it comes to avoiding Deus Ex
Machina.
While I have a good track record for writing believable
endings, it doesn’t mean I’m undefeated. I recently wrote a short story called
“Burning Dragon”, where a humanoid dragon mercenary (man, I’m obsessed with
mercenaries!) named Brock Soulburn is hired to retrieve a magical demon mask called
Night Terror that originally belonged to a tribe of barbaric orcs (I’m also
obsessed with orcs!). The mask comes to life and terrorizes Brock in the same
way Bugs Bunny would terrorize Elmer Fudd: with silly cartoonish antics, of
course. Brock gives up on his mission, but teams up with Night Terror to rip
off the orc tribe of its gold. In the final moments of the story, Brock wears
Night Terror like a real mask and suddenly his fire-breathing powers are more
devastating than before and also include the ability to steal souls of everybody
who gets torched. Again, there was no mention of these abilities before, but
Edward Davies, a stalwart participant in the WSS contests, told me that he
believed the ending because the situation reminded him of the Jim Carrey movie
from the 90’s called “The Mask”. I’d trust Edward with my life, so I don’t have
much of a reason to doubt his judgment. But there’s still that lingering threat
of my readers crying Deus Ex Machina if they took a gander at “Burning Dragon”.
As I said at the beginning of this entry, I’ve never read a
Brandon Sanderson book before, so I don’t have the benefit of absorbing his
writing style and subconsciously applying it to my own writing. But if someone
with his accolades says that Deus Ex Machina endings will kill a good story, you’d
better believe every word. These kinds of endings used to be popular in ancient
Greek theatre, but in modern times, they get scoffed at and rightfully so.
And while you’re establishing limits and rules for your
story’s magic system, it’s important to remember that writing is designed to be
invisible. Instead of explicitly listing these rules and limitations (which
would be telling), sneak them in there through believable dialogue and little
opportunities to use said magic (which would be showing). I do want to apply
Brandon Sanderson’s logic to my writing, but it’s something I have to work on
since authors are supposed to be stealthy when putting pen to paper. I’d like
to think I’ve come a long way in the show vs. tell department ever since
working with Marie Krepps. But make no mistake about it: stealthy writing takes
lots of practice and you still might not get it right the first time. All
authors struggle with showing instead of telling. All of them. Not some of
them. Every last one of them, including my sensei herself, Marie, who openly
admitted it to me one day.
If you have helpful tips to give to me or other authors as
to how to stealthily establish limits in magical powers, don’t be shy about
posting them. In the words of Red Green, I’m pulling for you; we’re all in this
together.
***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***
This past Saturday, I saw a concert at the Tacoma Dome where
Shinedown was the second to last act to play onstage that night. The prompt for
this week’s WSS contest is “Shine Down”. This coincidence couldn’t have been
timed any better. The only way that could be any more awesome is if next week’s
contest had a “Five Finger Death Punch” prompt. But for this week, my entry
will be called “Soccer Sucks” (another school-themed story). It goes like this:
CHARACTERS:
- Ben
Troy, Sour Gym Student
- Kira
Lopez, Gym Teacher
PROMPT CONFORMITY: The soccer game takes place outside,
where the sun will “shine down” upon the students and add to Ben’s crankiness
due to the extreme heat.
SYNOPSIS: The one part about high school Ben dreads the most
is physical education, particularly when they’re playing sports. He hates
soccer the most and his anger shows on the field when he is (accidentally)
struck with the ball and knocked to the ground several times. Ben blows off
steam at his classmates before taking a permanent seat on the bench. Miss Lopez
tries to talk him into getting back in the game, but after a series of false
answers, Ben simply says, “The next guy who knocks me down is getting his ass
kicked!”
***JOKE OF THE DAY***
Q: Where do Seattlites go to scratch the paint off of parked
cars?
A: The Key Arena.
