this is matt

I’ve written a few terrible fantasy novels in the last few years, but thankfully after much reading, gaming, brainstorming, and listening to Writing Excuses, I’m starting to see the specific things that made those novels terrible — and, more importantly, how to fix those things in future endeavors.

The religion in my fantasy worlds was weak. There were multiple factors — lack of knowledge regarding the history and development of major world religions, little interaction with people from belief systems that differ from my own, abject terror that people at church would get ahold of my work somehow, to name a few. But I think a big one was how little attention I was paying to huge differences that exist within the system that I’m a part of.

I’ve been keeping an eye on (and occasionally jumping into) various religious discussions around the interwebs over the last couple of weeks, and all of a sudden everything coalesced into this simple, amazing exercise I could do to generate new fantasy religions.

I’m going to use our world as the starting point for this particular example.

Imagine that a different set of people had been deemed divinely inspired, yet part of a single faith tradition. Let’s go with Aesop, Homer, Plutarch, Herodotus, Plato, and Aristotle. Based on how things play out within a single real-world religion, how might this look? Constant discussion and debate.

Did animals really talk in the days of Aesop? Do they still talk now, and we just don’t hear them?
How do we resolve the tension between the writings of Herodotus and the writings of Plutarch?
Is Herodotus commanding us to conquer other nations, or relating history to make a different point?
If Homer didn’t really exist, are his writings not actually divinely inspired?

And so on… take every possible point of contention, no matter how serious or silly, and create a schism based on it. Create a timeline to show where certain sects absorb other sects, or perhaps destroy them and burn their writings. Bring along reformers to winnow the canon or religious elites to expand it. Bring along people who want to use these texts to justify horrible actions or to inspire others to do great things.

The next step, if you’re looking to invent a fantasy religion, would be to borrow ideas from historical writers and create historical figures for your own world. I’m not sure how to describe how to do that as I haven’t taken that step yet, but I think it will work.

Long ago, there lived twin sisters, Agnes and Daphne, who couldn’t be more different. From an early age, Daphne strove to be the best at everything, while Agnes simply wished to be the best. While Daphne was making clothes and hunting wildebeests, Agnes moaned about how unfair it was that Daphne had nimbler fingers and toned arms, making it easier for her to sew and throw spears. Daphne was constantly adding new skills to her repertoire, while Agnes sat back and envied Daphne’s skills.

On the eve of the new year, Daphne always resolved to do something new in the following twelve months. Agnes always rolled her eyes and said she’d never do it, but Daphne always proved her wrong. Everyone else was so impressed by Daphne’s determination that the idea of making resolutions for the new year spread faster than gossip, and Daphne became something of a local hero. Agnes, true to her character, complained that Daphne got all the attention and respect, eventually moving into the woods outside the village so she wouldn’t have to see her sister or the people who loved her.

Years passed. Agnes watched from afar as her sister inspired the villagers to greatness, growing more bitter with each passing year. The malice in her heart grew so potent that it became a malicious force that she could control. Finally! She could do something that her sister could not! She began to wander the forest with her hate-spirit, using it to hunt and gather food, to move trees that had fallen in her path, and to waylay careless travelers. The more she used it, the more powerful it became.

Finally, she decided it was time to return to the village for their eve of the new year celebration. One by one, each person spoke one thing that they wanted to accomplish that year. Agnes stood last. Summoning the full power of her hate-spirit, she cried, “May you all fail at that which you seek to accomplish!” The hate spirit splintered into thousands of pieces and entered each person present, and Agnes fell over dead. That year, and for every year after, the people of the village failed to achieve the one goal they set for themselves each year.

—

This is why I don’t make new year’s resolutions.

Yesterday I made up a holiday I would like to see in the real world. Now I want to invent one for my NaNo novel.

The novel will be set in a future where artificial intelligence gained sentience, blew stuff up, and then sort of started keeping a low profile. Central governments had become useless (something that happens when you are blown up), so people ended up living under the authority of various city-states. It’s pretty miserable, what with everything being ruined and some stuff still being on fire years later.

What would these people celebrate? I think the one thing that would always be commemorated by everyone would be the day that the robots struck. People would need to celebrate their survival and the perpetuation of their species, and to remember everyone who died and everything that was lost.

There would be historically-inaccurate reenactments of that day, including a token scene of a human rising up and beating the crap out of a machine, driving it away in fear. The purpose would be to say, “Look! We overcame this, we can do anything!”

Feasting would be out of the question for most people, as food and water would be scarce to all but the wealthiest. However, there would be an emphasis on storytelling and creative arts as things that separate man from machine.

Did I miss anything? What do you think a post-apocalyptic humanity would celebrate?

It’s story week! This week I’m sharing some stories that came about at this week’s writer’s group meeting.

The prompt: Rewrite a nursery rhyme from a character’s point of view. (source: Writer’s Digest)

—

#1. Jack be Nimble
Jack crouched at the starting line, the roar of the crowd muted by the pounding of his heart. Today he would achieve godhood or be reduced to ash.

The starter pistol pierced his reverie and he dashed forward, the candlestick straight ahead, the flame of immortality burning brightly.

Jack launched himself into the air.

#2. The Cow Over the Moon
Jack the cow lamented not reading the immortality contract more closely. Since clearing the candlestick, he had reborn as a different creature every few decades, including an unfortunate stint as a celebrated frog in Calaveras county.

He stared up at the moon – his new goal, the one that would end this curse.

As the cat began to fiddle, Jack felt the rage of a thousand lifetimes building in his bovine frame. With a mighty moo, he launched himself into the air.

#3. Little Boy Blue
Jack landed in the middle of a cornfield, silently cursing the information he’d been given. He was still a cow, and now he was surrounded by corn for miles.

In the distance, a horn sounded.

#4. Jack and Jill
Jack was standing at the foot of a hill, drenched in sweat – but human. A young woman about his age was standing next to him. She gestured to the top of the hill, where a well sat.

Suddenly overwhelmed by thirst, Jack tried to run up the hill, but collapsed. The woman yanked him up by the shirt and helped him ascend.

When they reached the top, Jack smiled and started to ask her name, but was overwhelmed by exhaustion and collapsed, tumbling down the hill and slamming into a large rock.

Immortality, indeed.

It’s story week! This week I’m sharing some stories that came about at this week’s writer’s group meeting.

The prompt: You and a friend have just finished a lovely meal at your favorite restaurant. But things take a turn when you notice that the waiter has scribbled an unexpected and startling message on your bill. Write this scene. (source: Writer’s Digest)

—

I had no idea who I was supposed to meet, so I stared at the classifieds while sipping my coffee. The waiter was extra stealthy and managed to leave my bill without my noticing. Only, it wasn’t a bill, it was a note.

Leave a ten and get out of here

I looked around. At least two pairs of eyes were on me. I left the ten and quickly exited the restaurant, briskly walking toward my car.

As I shut the door, I looked in my rear view and saw the paparazzi run into the restaurant. There was another note on the dash.

You’re welcome.

It’s story week! This week I’m sharing some stories that came about at this week’s writer’s group meeting.

The prompt: You and a friend have just finished a lovely meal at your favorite restaurant. But things take a turn when you notice that the waiter has scribbled an unexpected and startling message on your bill. Write this scene. (source: Writer’s Digest)

—

Did I look bored? I must have, because she began talking more excitedly and waving her hands to emphasize just. how. weird this girl that so-and-so invited to her bachelorette party was.

I forced a smile when the waiter came by with our bill and handed him my credit card. At 12:30, the place was packed to the point of being a fire hazard, so no sense in delaying my exit.

And because there was no sense, that’s exactly what she wanted to do.

Anne had no self-esteem most of the time, which made her easy to avoid, but every now and then, she would appear in a burst of positive energy and invite someone to lunch. This time had been my turn.

The waiter returned with my card and receipt. “Have a good day,” he said, with unnecessary gravity as he pressed the card into my palm. He nodded and walked away.

I signed the merchant copy and started folding my copy when a bright blue scribble caught my attention.

Look at her wrists and stop taking her for granted you bastard.

For the first time I realized she was wearing long sleeves.