The Infancy of the Heron: from Honky to Indian

The original cast of the story looked a lot like the role-playing game it had come from. There was a fighter (Sister Dagmar), a wizard (Bjornsterne), a cleric (Qoyor Sube), and a thief (Hjalmar). ASIDE: If you're not familiar with role-playing culture, this "thief" is more like Bilbo Baggin's burglar, a clever and sneaky helper of the party, than a criminal. The only character who didn't really fit as a roleplayer was Rabbit. Very few role-playing systems have a character class of "peacemaker."

Part of the inspiration for Rabbit was actually Butch Cassidy. I was watching one of those "Movies with Commentary" shows in Boston ("The Movie Loft," if that means anything to anyone). The commentator remarked that Cassidy was neither the cleverest, nor the toughest, nor the best gun in the gang. Why did people follow him? "Because they liked him." Interesting, I thought. The hero who is the leader simply for his relationships with people, without force, title, or cunning.

I wrote an entire draft of the novel with the wizard and the honky Rabbit, before I realized that was wrong. I axed the wizard, ultimately, because he was too standard. I've always had trouble with the role-playing convention of having both wizards and priests, both casting spells but drawing on different power. How can there be gods who shaped the order of the universe, and a power in the universe that is other than what the gods shaped. Magic and religion have to be integrated, I've always thought.

In historical examples, this is always the case. Magic and the sacred are never separate realms. Granted, in medieval Europe, witches and priests were co-existent and separate. But they both drew on the same divine power. When a priest performed a miracle, it was the power of God. When a witch cast a spell, it was the power of Satan.

So how did Rabbit finally become a part of a tribal people? I think I knew he ought to be before he did. When I finally agreed that he needed to, I had to square my shoulders and take a deep breath. I'd been afraid to do it. I didn't want to be accused of co-opting Indian culture, or making a poor-Indian story, or anything of that nature. But then I realized that what I was doing instead was writing a story about white Indians, and that was worse. So... I had to do it right.

After some years of struggling with this story, and bringing it nearly into its final form, it occurred to me that maybe I shouldn't have made up a fake society. It is based in fair part on Indians of the North-east, the Iroquois Confederacy and the Abenaki, but mostly it was my invention. I deliberately did not have the children of Uliante grow corn, because that, it seemed to me, would literally brand the tribe Native American. But I was always uncomfortable that the Children of Uliante, and all their kin, were hunter-gatherers before the coming of the lowlanders, rather than the farmers of the Americas, with their own domesticated crops.

Similarly around this time, it occurred to me that I had created the Old Tongue largely by messing with Japanese as a model, although I added many non-Japanese phonemes, and maybe I should instead have worked off of Abenaki. I'd used Japanese for convenience: I know it. I experimented with Abenaki, and I even rewrote the first chapter with the new language.

Ebidzani of Uliante lay still on his pallet in the cool summer night, quieting his nerves. His night terrors came frequently these days, it was unfair to disturb his family... When he was a child little older that his grandson Zegleuna was now, there had only been a vision of flames and a feel of heat on his face and an overwhelming sense of loss. Later he had known it for a funeral pyre, later still for the pyre of his wife, W'bala. Recently, he had seen the faces of the people gathered around the pyre, seen his chief, Zokatese, strangely without his sword, his daughter Ditsala, utterly bereft, his friend Nazante wide-eyed in sorrow. He had never seen his son W'sigwa, he didn’t know why. This time he had clearly seen his grandchildren, Zegleuna and little Inasa, though he had always thought they were present.

Only W'bala, as always, W'bala, did not see it as his shame but his strength. "Se w'dô, your soul walks in fears others cannot face even in their dreams, w'dô ho? If ever you can face your dreams, se, you will be the wisest of us all."

 But finally I realized that if I used the Abenaki language, I would have to use more clearly the Abenaki culture, and that meant the Abenaki cosmology, and that meant the story fell apart. So the Indianifaction of Rabbit remained as I had made it, and that would be good.

The Birth of the Heron

Now that The Heron in His Vigilance has finally hit the shelves, I thought I could write a bit about where it came from.

The seed of the story was a role-playing game. The old-fashioned kind, a bunch of friends sitting around a table with paper, dice, books, and beer. The players were the folks listed in the dedication. Mallgeir was in the names, as was King Balás, and Qutuchin, Uliante, and Celio, although the names were different. The basic plot, the struggle against Balás, was the same. The attack on Norcincó, the escape through the tunnels, and the murder of the Heir of Jan was there--although the Heir of Jan was male and the Temple of the Dust did not exist.

It was a great way to develop a story, interacting with other people, drawing from other creativity. I conceived the idea of making the story in 1998, flying from Burlington to Los Angeles for the Writers of the Future Award ceremony. You spend a lot of time in the air, between Vermont and California. That was in the days when Babylon 5 was on the air, and the notion of a television serial story (as opposed to a series of stories) was novel in America. It occurred to me that I could adapt the game into a TV serial, so I wrote up a treatment, a list of episodes, describing the development of the story.

Some changes occurred immediately. The invention of Rabbit as the central character, the addition of Sister Dagmar and Bjornsterne. The player's characters quickly transformed.The only character who is recognizable is Deb Hayes's K'Shan, who became Qoyor Sube. The backstory and the nature of her power are original to the book, but K'Shan was a shaman of the Bayan Govi.

Two non-human characters are largely gone: Tony Galbraith's Beast and Carrie Rouillard's Ithiel. Coincidentally, both are visual artists: you can find Tony's paintings and wool sculptures at www.DoAnArt.com, and Carrie's masks at SansSouciStudios.com. Beast was adopted out of another novel, so I couldn't use him. Ithiel, a unicorn, survived into the TV show, but when I decided to do the novel, I decided to drop her. A unicorn is a powerful archetype. It seemed impossible to have a story with a unicorn in it without the unicorn and the nature of unicorns being central. I replaced them with Tlikkipit, who was part of the TV show all the way through.

Also, as the story evolved, it became much more humanocentric. All manner of magical creatures, trolls, man-eating bird people, banshee birds, and others were dropped. Not to mention the issue that Marion Zimmer Bradley's estate, which wouldn't have objected to her banshee birds being pulled wholesale out of her books for a role-playing adventure, would have had something to say about a published novel.

Amy Freund's Ghost lasted through the entire story in the TV version. When I wrote the novel, however, I got as far as Skowe before realizing he didn't have a role, anymore. Not coincidentally, this is when I realized Tlikkipit could not always be there. It was then left behind by the old trick of spirit creatures not crossing water.

Jeremy Freund's Ben Barak survived in Bjornsterne. Ben Barak was a Leane Si from a far northern people which I later dropped. Obviously I couldn't have another Leane Si just banging around with the party, so that had to go. But Bjornsterne's character came a lot from Ben Barak, particularly the speechifying, although I don't believe Ben was quite as obtuse as Bjornsterne.

But there was still a long way to go. For instance... the people of Uliante, and Rabbit himself... were all white.

Nibble nibble little publisher

So, one publisher is looking at the manuscript for The Fellowship of the Unloved.

Another is looking at the outline for Mischief's World.

Mischief's World is the title I've finally settled on for my space colony story. I think it's going to be a series! The initial volume--the story of the journey out, and the corporation that wants to break my free-spirited heroine, and the enigmatic broken man she seems to be falling for--might actually be approaching completion. I'm at the "read through the story again and see if it's holding together" phase.

Here's a link to my initial post on this story, only 3 years ago!

It's a solid tale. I don't want to jinx myself, but after 12 years of struggling, I may complete 2 novels in 12 months.

Queasy

I just sent a pitch on my novel to a publisher. I've been ready to do this since August, but afraid. It's done, now. No taking it back.

I think I'll stay sitting down for a little bit.

Writing Update

I finished all those edits I talked about in my last post. Finished it. Printed it. (Killed a toner cartridge in the process.) Enlisted neighboring author Jennifer McMahon (http://www.jennifer-mcmahon.com/) to read it. Jennifer proclaimed it excellent, saying she felt transported to Uliante, but... she was very busy, and decided she didn't have time to finish it, stopping right around the transition between Part One and Part Two, right where I'd worried that things might lag. She sounded sincere in her description of its virtues, but, I want to write the book that people who are busy don't put down.

She had some thoughts that gave me a direction, and I think it's a good one. It's also possible I might cut out a chapter or two. I'm back into it again, but still feel this beast is near completion.

Still Writing

Things have been crazy this past year, as usual. Sorry I've been away from this board.

Yes, I have been writing. The colonists made it to 44 Bootis A, concluding Part One. Then suddenly I was filled with the inspiration to complete that dang fantasy novel. It looked like it was almost done and would need only a last read-through and copy-edit. Then it turned out that, on the last read-through, I had an inspiration of how to address a long-burning worry I'd had about the transition between Part One and Part Two. Then I realized a character was speaking in the wrong voice, and I needed to rewrite her dialogue. Oh, and, when I wove the scenes of her subplot into the novel, I'd left out one critical one. Hmm, and there were three lowlanders living in the forest who had lowland names, and their names should have been changed to forest names when they were adopted, because the renaming of another character at the end is symbolic of her adoption. Oh, and the torture scene is too graphic, it gives me nightmares, and could get me shelved with horror. Glory, after doing all that I think I'd better read it through again for another copy-edit.

But you know what? I think this novel is coming out good.

Ironically, I'd sent the first chapter off to an agent, as a sort of threat to myself to finish it. (You'd better have it ready if he asks to see it!) I'd initially conceived of the Native American influence as a way to set off what could otherwise be a standard high fantasy story about the magical people in Flimbottomland threatened by the evil Lord Hootchiekoo. Apparently, I was effective. The agent wrote back, and said I had great promise, and wrote very well. Unfortunately, he'd seen the story as being a wholly Native American fantasy, not a high fantasy with NA flavoring, and there wasn't much market for such things.