Vaughn Roycroft

About Vaughn Roycroft

In the sixth grade, Vaughn’s teacher gave him a copy of The Hobbit, sparking a lifelong passion for reading and history. After college, life intervened, and Vaughn spent twenty years building a successful business. During those years, he and his wife built a getaway cottage near their favorite shoreline, in a fashion that would make the elves of Rivendell proud. After many milestone achievements, and with the mantra ‘life’s too short,’ they left their hectic lives in the business world, moved to their little cottage, and Vaughn finally returned to writing. Now he spends his days polishing his epic fantasy trilogy.

Layers of Antagonism, and Why You Should Embrace Them

March 18, 2019 By Vaughn Roycroft 31 Comments

Does your WIP have an antagonist? Just one? Are you sure?

My question is asked only partly in jest. Not to be antagonistic, but I’m guessing that many if not most of you have several layers of antagonism in your work, whether you’ve created them consciously or not.

I’ve had antagonism on my mind lately. And not just because it’s tax season. Or because of the latest Game of Thrones trailer. (Well, maybe the Thrones trailer is a small part of it.) What initially prompted it was this thought-provoking essay by WU’s own Jo Eberhardt. Which spurred me to sort out my own antagonists, and how they fit into what I’m trying to build. Granted, my WIP is an epic fantasy trilogy, but I still feel like I have quite a few. And for a moment there, I questioned if I had too many. It certainly got me thinking. The more I thought about it, the more I recognized that most of my favorite stories have multiple layers of antagonism.

Why would I want to offer anything less? So maybe this is a good thing…?

In the interest of exploring the idea, I thought I’d attempt a list of the various types of antagonism, from the specific to the obscure. This might get tricky, so we’d better start with a definition, to make sure we’re all on the same page. Merriam-Webster’s is:

Antagonism – noun

the opposition of a conflicting force, tendency, or principle
actively expressed opposition or hostility

[Note: I apologize in advance for using fantasy/sci-fi examples, but that’s my wheelhouse. Besides, as WU’s resident geek it almost feels like a contractual obligation.]

The Antagonism of Setting: Okay, yes, I said I’d go from specific to obscure. And, yes, the concept of the setting itself being antagonistic is sort of obscure. But in many cases, a story’s setting reveals some of the earliest forms of opposition—often before we’ve encountered an active villain. Think about it. Harry Potter (eventually) gets his letter and ventures out for Hogwarts, Ned Stark feels honor-bound to go to King’s Landing, and Frodo and his companions must leave the comfort of the Shire.

Often our heroes are pushed from their comfort zone, or even compelled into danger. The outside world looms as their first obstacle. Using setting as a force of antagonism is an excellent way to grab and hold a reader’s attention.

An Active Villain: Ah, back to the specific. And obvious! Not every story has one, but when we think of antagonism, the first thing that springs to mind is an individual whose aims and/or desires are directly counter to those of our protagonist(s). It springs to mind because having an embodied central antagonist is tried and true storytelling. What would Harry Potter be without Voldemort; Star Wars without Darth Vader; Lord of the Rings without Sauron? [Read more…]

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Storytelling and Stepping Beyond the Veil

February 18, 2019 By Vaughn Roycroft 17 Comments

Are you already wondering what I mean by “the veil”? Whether you’ve read my essays before or not, you likely have a suspicion. Do I have a ghost of a chance at keeping you reading if I admit that the answer is a bit metaphysical? At least till I’ve made my case? That’s the spirit!

It’s really not such strange talk for us, is it? We writers attach the numinous to the act of writing all of the time, even if it’s tongue-in-cheek. We speak of being touched by the muse, or hearing our characters speak to us, or capturing an idea before it gets away.

I’m not really going to ask you to take too great a leap from there. Rather, we’ll just be going one. Step. Beyond! (Any Madness fans? No? Ahem. Sorry.)

Déjà Vu, Too?

“At first the beauty of the melodies and the interwoven words in the Elven-tongue, though he understood them little, held him in a spell. Almost it seemed that the words took shape, and visions of far lands and bright things that he had never yet imagined opened out before him; and the firelit hall became like a golden mist above seas of foam that sighed upon the margins of the world.” –Frodo Baggins, experiencing Elven singing in Rivendell (from The Fellowship of the Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien)

My wife and I recently attended a one-man show called The History of Ireland Through Music, by Colm Keegan. During one of the more mesmerizing songs I glanced at my wife. She looked entranced. The lyrics were in Gaelic, a language neither of us knows. At the song’s end we made eye contact, and she whispered, “Had a bit of déjà vu, there.” I’d sensed something spooky-cool about it, too.

The moment reminded me of Frodo’s experience in Rivendell. So during the ride home I asked her about it. She told me it was a fleeting dreamlike feeling, almost like a glimpse at a past life experience.

I’m guessing most of us have these incidents. Some are more powerful than others, but not everyone is interested in examining them. They can be easily dismissed as simple trick of the brain, or synapses misfiring.

I, on the other hand, am fascinated by them. Because those moments of déjà vu—particularly the ones that feel like glimpses into a past life—are as close as I can come to describing my initial encounters with my story world. I hadn’t written fiction in many years, but day after day, session after session, this historical world opened before my waking eyes in a very dreamlike fashion. Characters came to me fully-formed, as if I’d known them all my life. The landscape was as familiar as my neighborhood, but I knew I’d never been there. The story unfolded for me as if I’d become its cosmically assigned scribe. Again and again I found myself asking, “Where is this stuff coming from?” [Read more…]

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The Gifts of the Writing Life

December 17, 2018 By Vaughn Roycroft 28 Comments

It’s the holiday season! And regardless of how you celebrate, it’s a great time of year for taking stock. You know, the short days, the long, often cold nights, the fires in the hearth. And around here, the blissful silence of a snowy walk.*

My December post here last year related how I’d been reminded of the original spark that brought me to the page as a writer, and how the reminder felt like a gift—one that, in the spirit of the season, I wanted to pass along to my fellow WUers. Rereading the piece made me realize that there are many other gifts the writing life tends to bestow.

So, in the interest of taking stock, and in the same seasonal spirit, I thought I’d try to identify and list some of those gifts.

A few disclaimers: This list is far from complete. And both the gifts and the quantity and quality of each varies by the writer. I understand that many of these are virtues, and I don’t mean to portray writers as more virtuous than non-writers, and particularly not myself. I’m only saying that we’re all works-in-progress. And, hey, we all know how challenging this gig can be. Heaven knows how hard we can be on ourselves–over goals not met, deadlines missed, etcetera. Why not take a moment to focus on the often unremarked benefits we reap from our efforts? Particularly now, during the gift-giving season.

So let’s put another log on the fire and take stock, shall we?

Heightening Empathy—There are numerous studies that show that reading fiction leads to greater empathy. And it makes such obvious sense, that regularly putting oneself into the shoes of characters heightens one’s willingness to seek, and ability to grasp, a better understanding of our fellow humans.

But what does that mean for us writers? As writers, the act of putting ourselves in the shoes of others is no mere passive byproduct of the undertaking. In order to provide the feels, we have to live the feels. Creating the stories that successfully inspire empathy in our readers requires us to constantly strive to immerse ourselves in the perspective and the feelings of others (even the villains!). To do so, we must explore beyond superficial goals and motivations and delve into hidden or subconscious desires and fears, joys and sorrows.

The more sustained our effort, the more improved the outcome. Hence, the longer we strive to improve our writing, the more habitual and acute our empathy becomes.

Increasing Humility—I know, I know—in an essay that touts (brags on?) our gifts, I’m going to talk about how humble we are. Ironic? [Read more…]

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My Map to Immersion

November 19, 2018 By Vaughn Roycroft 52 Comments

I’ve always loved maps. My earliest memories of map-reading are from family car-trips. My dad would reach into the (gigantic!) glove compartment of our ’68 Chevy Bel Air, and hand back the newest neatly folded roadmap of Michigan from his (gigantic!) pile of maps to my sister and me (hey, anything that quiets backseat rowdiness). He religiously picked up the AAA’s latest version from his insurance agent, whose office was a stone’s throw from his barbershop. (In his defense, those were days of growth for American infrastructure.)

My sister and I would pore over the map, pointing out the odd town names of the Mighty Mitten, and giggling over the absurd trips one could make between them: from Bellevue to Belleville (in our Bel Air!); Pontiac to Cadillac; Bad Axe to Hell; Podunk to Jugville; and even Colon to Climax (a very pleasant 30 minute ride, I swear).

Beyond the giggles, I found it all enthralling. I mean, let’s face it, Michigan has an alluring shape. Not to mention her 3,288 miles of shoreline (second only to Alaska). I remember studying the coasts, the islands, and the towns at the extreme tips of peninsulas—places like Northport, Mackinac, Copper Harbor, and Whitefish Point, and wondering how it would feel there—to be surrounded by nothing but water and forest. I’ve since been to most of the places I wondered about. And though a rare few failed to live up to the expectations of youth, most have exceeded them, and several have become favorite getaways.

My love of maps has undoubtedly contributed to my enduring love of my home state. But I can see that my love of maps also provided a natural lead-in to my love of reading.

And I’ve also become convinced that a line can be drawn from my love of maps to my current life as a writer. Allow me to diagram my case.

A Tolkien of My Affection

As some of you may know, I write epic fantasy, and cite Tolkien as a guiding star among the constellation of my inspirations. Before reading Tolkien, I’d been captivated by a middle-grade book by Dirk Gringhuis called The Young Voyageur. My parents bought it for me in the gift shop of the restored Fort Mackinac, on Mackinac Island (one of those intriguing map dots I mention above). The entire inside cover of the book is a map of the Great Lakes, marked with all of the French and British forts along the shores, and charting the protagonist Danny’s travels, covering hundreds of miles of shoreline and rivers… in a canoe! [Read more…]

Writing Through Uncertainty (With a Writerly Life Jacket)

September 17, 2018 By Vaughn Roycroft 38 Comments

Please forgive me in advance, but this is going to be an unusual post. Writing-life-wise, I’ve been feeling a bit out of sorts, you see. And it seems to have had an effect on my WU essay routine.

I normally write my WU essays about a week in advance. I like having a cushion. I even have a warning notification set up in my Outlook calendar for one week prior to each of my scheduled pub days. Last week, when that day blew by with no essay idea in sight, I still wasn’t too concerned. It’s happened before. Something would occur to me. Well, at the three-days-to-go mark, I started to worry. And I started a post. Then another. And another. This is pretty much how my weekend went. I took all three attempts to about 500-700 words before abandoning them. But in each case, I just wasn’t feeling it. I realize now that I was trying to force it.

Get this: a couple of the attempts were “craft instruction” type posts. Let’s face it—when it comes to essays, I’m not the instructor type. I guess if I had to describe it, my essay style would be something like: “Here’s what’s going on in my writing life and with my work; this is what I’ve come to recognize and/or believe; hope you can relate, and that I’ve made you feel less alone.”

So here I am, on the last day, starting my fourth attempt. And I thought, well, maybe I ought to just write about what’s going on in my writing life and with my work. Here goes nothing.

The Circumstantial Evidence

Allow me to start by offering an overview of my circumstance. I’m working on a trilogy. Book one is out on submission. I have a draft of book two, which is still out to a few remaining beta-readers. And I’m about a quarter of the way into a draft of book three (trying to gather all the threads of the first act).

I have no evidence that book one will sell. I’m not sure how much revision work there is to be done on book two (or book one, for that matter). And Book three is putting up one helluva challenge. Not that feeling challenged is a bad thing. Quite the contrary—I consider it a good sign. Still, I introduced several new characters and subplot-lines in book two, and I’m not exactly sure how the new elements will weave into the resolution. I really want this final book in the story to live up to its potential, to be as moving and powerful as my gut says it can and should be. I hope I’m up to it.

In addition to the writing stuff, last June when I finished a draft of book two, my wife and I came up with a list of home maintenance chores and repairs to attend to over the summer. I have about three-quarters of the list checked off, but the smell of autumn is definitely in the air, bringing the motto of House Stark to mind. A few of the unfinished repairs are weather-dependent. I need stuff to dry out, and we’ve had one of the wettest summers on record.

All of these aspects of my circumstance have something in common: uncertainty. I recognize that this is why I’m feeling out of sorts. [Read more…]

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Finding My Voice—So Easy. So Hard.

August 13, 2018 By Vaughn Roycroft 28 Comments

I’m currently rereading an old favorite: Last of the Amazons, by Steven Pressfield. I’ve always known the book is seminal to my own work, but oddly I haven’t revisited it in many years. I’m starting to feel like the lengthy interim has been serendipitous. Experiencing the book again after all of these years is revealing much about my own evolution as a writer.

Even though I’ve always been aware of its influence, I hadn’t really recognized its prominence. I was already a fan of Pressfield’s historical fiction when it released, and bought it shortly after its publication in 2002. I just dug out some notes from my earliest research forays prior to my first attempt at storytelling (even before admitting to myself that I was preparing to write).

The notes are from the winter of ’03-’04. The subject? Amazons. Influential indeed.

Those of you who know my work features warrior women might have already surmised that rereading the book reveals one of the sources of my interest in them, as well as some of the enduring characteristics of the warrior woman archetype. And you’d be correct. But those things aren’t surprising to me. What is surprising is how influenced my early composing attempts were by Pressfield’s language and style.

In other words, I was influenced by his voice.

Initiation Through Imitation

I’m sure I’m not the only writer who’s discovered in hindsight that they had been imitating a literary hero, or heroes, in their early work. Rereading Last of the Amazons has reminded me how captivated and inspired I was by the fictive spell Pressfield’s voice casts. The style is definitely archaic, but without being florid, elusive, or overly metaphoric.

The story is told from the first-person perspective of the youngest daughter of an Athenian nobleman whose governess is an Amazon named Selene. Selene has surrendered herself to the father in war. I still love the introduction, in which the girl describes Selene and her background and circumstance in their household. Here’s a taste (or should I say a whiff?):

Selene smelled. Mother would not permit her into the formal rooms of the house, as the odour she exhaled, so Mother claimed, clung to every garment, to her hair, and even the very walls themselves. ‘Can you not smell it, children? Good God, what a stink!’ Mother chased out our governess, often with a broom, to peals of our laughter. For Selene’s part, she abhorred the house and entered it only under compulsion, as civilized folk will a tomb.

It was different than the typical archaic writing I was used to (which was usually vaguely Elizabethan, whether or not the story took place in England). I never found myself asking if this was how an ancient Greek girl from a noble family would sound. I just accepted it. I think I was as captivated and intrigued by that as I was by the elements of backstory and plot.

The voice didn’t work for everyone, of course. I checked the book’s Goodreads reviews, and it seems the style of the prose is among its most frequently cited complaints. But whether or not readers believed Pressfield succeeded in sounding like an ancient Greek girl, he’d succeeded in awakening me to the possibilities of writing from the perspectives of ancient Goths and Romans.

Looking back at those early drafts, written with Pressfield’s voice echoing in my mind, makes me cringe. [Read more…]

Asking Myself Why I Write… Again

June 18, 2018 By Vaughn Roycroft 52 Comments

I’m certain all of us have asked the question. Why am I doing this?

Some more often than others, I’m sure. As in, “Why am I putting myself through this?” Particularly when stuck, or while collecting noes during submissions. Or after a daunting critique. I mean, there have got to be easier gigs than this one, am I right?

But I don’t mean as a passing thought. I’m talking about taking a good hard look at the subject. Really examining why you’re spending so many of your finite hours on earth in this pursuit. I’ve often heard the succinct answer, “Because I have to,” or, “Because I can’t imagine not doing it.” Those are good ones. I accept them as valid.

I’m also sure a few lucky souls out there will answer, “Because writing is my retreat/respite; my joy/solace; my healing/me-time. I consider it a reward not a labor.” (I’m looking at you, Benjamin Brinks.)

But beyond that urge or longing, beyond the respite/solace gained, what do we really hope to achieve? Because, after all, even if we feel we “have to write,” or find reward in it, many of us could satisfy ourselves in an hour or so a day, or with a few longer sessions a week, and without the intent of having it read or reacted to in any way.

I’m sure that every WU reader appreciates the time, dedication, and passion necessary to acquiring and maintaining the sort of writing competence that’s worthy of being consistently read.

If you’re serious about gaining and keeping it, you’re giving a lot of yourself. A LOT. Certainly enough to warrant the question.

A Question That Sprawls

As I suggest in the title, this isn’t the first time I’ve asked myself why I write. It usually happens between manuscripts, as I am now. I find that it’s worth reexamining because the answers inevitably change. In my case, it’s more of a refinement than an overhaul, but my reasons have indeed changed.

At the core of it, I have to accept that my goal is larger than simply to tell a story (relatively speaking, that’s the easy part). I’m seeking to express stories in the best way possible; to construct and present them so that they are as meaningful, memorable, and moving as can be.

But that elaboration of the goal begs the supplemental question: well-expressed and meaningful to whom? For me it’s a reminder that, yes indeed, I’m doing this to be read. Which naturally leads me to ask what sort of readership that entails. I have been read, after all. By… um, dozens of… well, mostly friends and family. So then, how many readers are enough? If I need more, why? To what end do I seek them?

See how this question tends to sprawl? [Read more…]

Warrior Women, #MeToo, and One Writer’s Evolving Sensibilities

May 21, 2018 By Vaughn Roycroft 28 Comments

These feel like turbulent times, don’t they? Wait–haven’t I asked that question here before? (I have.) Maybe I should say, these feel like transformative times. And some days it feels more like upheaval than transformation. But I suspect transformation requires an aspect of upheaval. Just as action evokes reaction, reform invites traditionalism, and repression incites rebellion. The more vigorous the stir, the greater the current.

Case in point: the #MeToo Movement and the evolution of gender relations. The sheer breadth of the movement helps to create its impact. And it’s an impact that invites self-reflection, from all of us. I don’t think I’m the only male who’s given pause to reflect, not just on my current attitudes and behavior when it comes to gender, but on my past as well.

For we writers, the impetus to self-examination wrought by social conflict and change is all the greater. It’s sort of what we do. As much as we’d all like to consider ourselves enlightened and progressive on such issues, we can rest assured that the nature of our undertaking—sharing stories rooted in human interaction—will reveal our blind spots and lapses.

After all, if we don’t climb outside our own boxes and take a good look, others will. Even if we diligently strive to be unboxed, we are bound to have our assumptions challenged. And often because of it, our sensibilities must evolve. Or else we’re left clinging to self-delusion. Though that may sound slightly ominous, I’ve come to appreciate it as a benefit of the gig.

Patting My Own Back

I have to admit, writing about gender in this forum is a bit daunting. But I also have to admit, when it comes to the aforementioned self-evaluation and reflection on gender, I tend to give myself pretty good marks. And yet I also realize that the comfort of self-absolution is a trap, and that presumption is the enemy of enlightenment. I also recognize that any enlightenment I can claim is in no small way due to the example and inspiration of the awesome women in my life—particularly my wife and our mothers.

As a writer, I feel that my self-examination on the issue of gender is more crucial than typical because of one of the primary elements of my storytelling—one that appears in every manuscript I’ve undertaken. My stories feature warrior women.

The inclusion is one that I’ve never taken lightly. As evidence of my ongoing reflection on it, I offer a post I wrote over six years ago, titled Regarding Kickass Warrior Chicks. The title helps to illustrate my point about ongoing reflection and evolving sensibilities. [Read more…]

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How Deep the Darkness?

March 19, 2018 By Vaughn Roycroft

Do you enjoy dark stories? Five years ago, I would’ve answered the question with an unreserved yes. Today… well, I’d have to have a bit of clarification first.

I mean, what does dark mean anymore? Stories that feature danger and violence? Battle and war? Gritty realism? Evil? Death?

I started thinking about it after reading our own Juliet Marillier’s excellent WU essay last week, in which she says: “Overall, it seems to me that fantasy is becoming darker all the time, with authors tackling more and more challenging themes. There’s a strong horror element in many works. Perhaps that is a reflection of the times we live in.”

I agree that fantasy seems to be growing darker. I’ve recently found I have my own limits of tolerance for darkness. And I’m not just talking about horror (which I don’t often read, and have never written).

Purveyor of Darkness…Who, me?

I mentioned my prior fondness of dark stories, though I don’t really think I ever actually sought out darkness in my reading life. But as an avid epic fantasy reader, boy, have I found it. I even became a fan of some dark storytellers. Glen Cook, George RR Martin, Joe Abercrombie, etcetera—I’ve been reading grimdark for many years, and often enjoying it.

As for darkness in my work, how’s this for the shoe fitting? I started with the barbarians who famously first sacked Rome (the Goths), and made the Gothic characters my protagonists. When it comes to violence and war, theirs is a warrior society. They fight. A lot. As do the Romans they encounter. Both societies have brutal aspects; I’ve featured atrocities committed by both sides. I’ve never shied away from portraying the blood or the misery wrought by war. In other words, my stories are rife with humans doing horrible things to other humans.

As for death, well, let’s just say I’m no shrinking violet when it comes to writerly grim reaping. To give you an idea, I did a quick head count for my first trilogy. Out of twelve POV characters, six end up pushing daisies. Oh, and almost all of those are violent ends. If portraying death makes me a purveyor of darkness, most juries would name me guilty as charged.

But you know what? I never really considered my work dark.

A Matter of Tone

I used to be a diehard story finisher. But I’ve recently started some dark epic fantasies that I ended up setting aside. I also started a fantasy television series that I’ve given up on. The show in particular seemed to be trying to be dark for darkness’s sake—like an epic fantasy version of keeping up with the Westerosi. Prior to those I didn’t finish, I’d made my way through a few dark stories that left me feeling… hollow.

There are some things that will always start to turn me against a story or its characters. [Read more…]

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Tears on the Page—On Writing and Crying

February 19, 2018 By Vaughn Roycroft

Yesterday morning I cried over a book’s ending. I’m talking wet cheeks, sobs that were more like gasps for breath, and needing to blow my nose. Crying ugly, as it’s aptly called.

While that sinks in, let me assert that I consider myself fairly open online, particularly in this forum. Here among my fellow WU writers, I’m fairly confident that most of you are unsurprised by my admission. And I consider myself pretty comfortable with my masculinity. And yet…

Boys Don’t Cry

I almost chickened out on this post. I started it yesterday, and then set it aside. But as such things often go for me, once the idea bored its way into my brain, it could only be purged by writing. As I explored my discomfort, it started to seem silly. I mean, we talk about crying all of the time. Heck, you can hardly find an online thread about This Is Us without someone mentioning all of the tissues that show is selling. And yet talking about my own tears over a story is unsettling. Why is that?

I guess it’s partly the whole macho thing. I saw one study that concluded that women cry a bit over twice as often as men (around 4 occurrences per month for females versus 1.5/month for males). And there seems to be some debate about how much the disparity can be attributed to nature versus nurture. Is it physiological (since the mere presence of female tears has been shown to correlate with a measured reduction in male aggression and sexual arousal)? Or is it our upbringing (I clearly recall a junior high gym teacher who routinely told any male who shed a tear to, “Suck it up, Sally”)?

I suspect it’s a combination, but if there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s that the older I get, the more often I cry. I’m also certain that when I first met my wife, we would’ve compared fairly well with the stats I cite above (her being moved to tears about twice as often as I was). I actually used to tease her that a good commercial could make her cry.

These days I give her a real run for the money.

Maybe it’s simply that I spend less time in the company of men. Maybe I just don’t give a damn if anyone calls me Sally anymore (after all, I’ve come to know as many or more admirable women as men). But I think there’s something else at work, as well.

Since I started writing, I actually seek out the kinds of experiences that move me to tears.

The Tears of Writerly Success

It’s a not-so-hidden secret that many (if not most) of us count hearing that a reader was moved to tears as a success. I know I do. Although it’s not something we go around high-fiving over or bragging about, my recent experience made me wonder. Do I really seek to make people cry? [Read more…]

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Pantsing Leftoverture

December 18, 2017 By Vaughn Roycroft

It’s the holiday season! And I know what you’re thinking. “So he’s bringing us yet another article about pantsing?” Well, in a way, yes. But one of my fondest Christmas wishes is that—whether you lean to plotting or pantsing—this essay will seem like a present, from me to you.

I recently had an epiphany, you see. And it feels like a gift. Which made me think that this is the perfect time of the year to share it.

Allow me to start at the beginning. The very beginning.

My Pantsing Puppyhood

From the first page of fiction I wrote, I was a pantser (someone who writes by the seat of their pants, sans outline). This was long before I’d heard the term, or knew any different. It was my natural inclination. And looking back, I can see that pantsing was part of what kept me going. Or, more specifically, the surprising revelations that came early via my intuitive storytelling attempts left me wanting more. The surprises didn’t come just in the form of plot. New characters would pop up, as well as new connections between them. Visualizations of settings that expanded my story world came to mind all but fully formed.

It left me astonished. I wondered where it all came from, and still do. Whether you believe the arrival of story epiphany is at all mystical (the muse), or simply the conjuring of the subconscious becoming conscious, the phenomenon is worthy of our astonishment. Regardless of how the revelations came, the hankering I had for more is what kept me forging on to “The End” for the first time.

Pantsing Supplanted

As writers, we all change and grow with experience, of course. And one of the changes I underwent—which I think is fairly common—is that I stopped relying on pantsing alone, and added many elements of what is commonly called plotting, but could perhaps be better described as advanced planning. This came about as a result of hard-won experience. Turns out it saves a TON of work if you have some things worked out in advance. I have experimented with, and adopted, many forms of advance work, including (but not limited to): character profiles and interviews, story-structure breakdowns, and short stories and scenes that explore backstory (that aren’t intended for the manuscript). I’ve even done a complete scene chart. On a spreadsheet! (Once.)

On a micro level, to this day, before each scene, I jot down the goals, motivations, and conflicts for the POV character, as well as a forecast for the crisis or segue that will end the scene. The practice has often helped keep me on course.

All of my prewriting rituals have made me more concise, focused, and aware, which has strengthened my writing. I firmly believe I am a better writer than the pantsing pup I describe above, in no small part due to the advance work I’ve adopted.

And yet… (You knew there was a “but” coming, didn’t you?) [Read more…]

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Selling Sprawl: The Case for Expansive Storytelling

November 20, 2017 By Vaughn Roycroft

Geeks are rejoicing! In fact, a weeklong epic fantasy geek-gasm is ongoing even as I type this essay. But if you’re not one of us, you probably haven’t noticed. That’s because we epic fantasy geeks aren’t really the party-in-the-streets sort of revelers. Instead, we’re the disappear-in-our-caves-and-read-the-newest-big-fat-book types. And the big fat book that instigated this round of rejoicing is no ordinary epic. We’ll be in our caves for some time.

Last Tuesday, Oathbringer was released—Brandon Sanderson’s latest edition to the wildly popular Stormlight Archive. And yes, it’s his biggest, fattest yet, weighing in at 1,220 pages. And get this: Oathbringer is the third in a planned ten-volume series! Talk about ambitious.

The Stormlight Archive isn’t just long, it’s expansive—a story-world with 30 systems of magic, dozens of cultures, and 6,000 years of history mapped out. In the first two editions there are over a dozen POV characters (though there are merely three to five protagonists, depending on how you count them). The themes Sanderson is weaving are not just socially-conscious, but in my opinion are extremely relevant and applicable. They include climate change, religious dogma versus evidence-based science, the politics of oppression, and making war for profit, to name a few.

Epic Inspiration

I’m not here today to sell you on The Stormlight Archive. The series might even be considered daunting by some fantasy fans. But I do want to share how heartened and inspired I am by its success. And I also want to share a few thoughts on the trend in my genre toward more expansive storytelling.

These days it seems there is no shortage of readers out there who are undaunted by a sprawling tale. This is good news for many fantasists. But for me, Sanderson’s success with Stormlight is particularly inspiring. You see, he started writing the first draft of it fifteen years before the publication of the first edition in the series, The Way of Kings. Prior to that, he sold a standalone fantasy (Elantris) and a trilogy (Mistborn) set in the same universe (or the Cosmere, as he calls it)—not to mention being hand-picked to finish Robert Jordan’s popular Wheel of Time series following Jordan’s untimely passing—all before he undertook revising The Way of Kings for publication.

Talk about accomplished. Talk about prolific!

And yet, as lauded and productive as Sanderson is, I see a bit of my own journey in his. And when I say “a bit,” it’s not mere diffidence. Sanderson wrote fifteen(!) novels before getting published. So far, I’ve written five. After Elantris was published his editor read a version of The Way of Kings and thought it was too ambitious—particularly for a second novel. Even Sanderson has said he wasn’t a good enough writer at that time to pull it off. Likewise, my gut tells me that when I wrote and revised my first trilogy, A Legacy of Broken Oaths, I wasn’t good enough to pull off. And so I moved on to write other stories in the same world—one of which I hope to sell. But I still have hopes for LOBO.

Brandon Sanderson’s success with The Stormlight Archive keeps that hope alive. [Read more…]

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