Con Report: IllogiCon, Sunday

Religion and Mythology in Science Fiction and Fantasy

• Debra Killeen
• Ada Milenkovic Brown
• Natania Barron
• Misty Massey
• Jacqueline Carey
• Betty Cross

Don't proselytize!

Why do we see so many various religions in fantasy?

• There’s a lot of appeal to a writer…you can create your own gods
• A lot of wish fulfillment in fantasy - have your gods walk among your characters - more exciting
• Game of thrones - lots of different religions  - 7 gods living in harmony w/nature - dualistic God/s
• Richard Adams, Shardick - numinous book - a living faith 
• Jacqueline wanted an actual live faith in her story
• Natania sees a D&D aspect - gods as characters vs more of a concept
• Go back to classical mythology - In the Iliad we look at stories as metaphor, but Homer wrote as literal truth – he believed that gods walk among us
• H Hudson Blunt, the Eldrich age, short story - gods show up in Victorian England [if anyone has more detail about this, please share in comments! I was unable to find a reference based on these sketchy notes! :( ]
• Scary when they do! If a God shows up in front of you – you might not really want that!
• Christian Angels are described as scary looking! Not pretty with fluffy white wings

How do you feel about authors writing outside of their own experience? Cultural appropriation, or fair game?

• Have to walk a fine line - it's easy to trip up when you think you know and are wrong
• Belief systems are very emotional and deeply held
• The presence of religion informs the whole culture/world
• Want to be respectful of others’ culture, beliefs
• Important for authors to stretch their own viewpoints, do research, get opinions
• Research, research, research! You don't have to use it all, but it will inform your writing
• Easier when you're doing historical - no one as readily available to call you out on mistakes
• Jacqueline says we had a good Sat night Diversity panel - need for representation, more "outside our own" 

What are some seminal books featuring religion in spec fic?

• Terry Pratchett, Small Gods - God comes back to the world thinking there are no believers, incarnated as a turtle...and finds a believer 
• NK Jemison, The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms - new but recognizable - interaction between gods and people 
• Saladin Ahmed, Throne of the crescent moon – wonderful story - Islam but alien world 
• Madeleine l’Engle - lots of religion and science, but not preaching
• Neil Gaiman American Gods - dark scary truths - arc of covenant so terrifying no one should ever see it 
• Greg Keys, Kingdom of Thorn and Bone - Magic - holy spots like ley lines 
• James Morrow, Towing Jehovah -discover the body of God floating in the Arctic - what to do? Tell people God is dead? Or keep it a secret? 

Are there any existing religions that have untapped potential to be mined for storytelling?

• Anything but Greco-Roman and Judeo-Christian
• Indian, Celtic, Pacific American, Islam, Thailand, Vietnam (crossroads of Buddhism & Hinduism plus older religions ), Eastern Europe, aboriginal Australian, Egyptian pantheon, mystic edges of more mainstream religions (Sufi)
• Crossover between different faiths, pantheons of different faiths, can see patterns
• Aliette de Bodard, Aztec trilogy, starting with Servant of the Underworld 
• Sandra McDonald, Outback Stars 
• Real world religions in fantastic settings – great Babylon 5 episode where a visiting rabbi ponders whether an alien dish is kosher http://www.midwinter.com/lurk/guide/014.html
• Mary Doria Russell, The Sparrow 

What role does geography play?

• What if we had two moons?
• Cold/hot weather, drought, desert
• Norse mythology would have been a whole lot less depressing if it had been warmer!
• Religion is often an attempt to explain the natural world
• Polynesian peoples don't have a flood myth!
• In the Norse end-of-the-world myth, the good guys die at the end - is there any other where the good guys die?
• Well, discussion about that claim to Norse myth: Earth is (or will be) reborn, Thor’s sons survive, the cycle will begin again…

Any good treatments of Gods as aliens, or superbeings?

• Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Mists of Avalon - goddess and Virgin Mary 
• Any good examples of alien species? George RR Martin, And Seven Times Never Kill Man - brought an alien faith to life 
• Anime: Crest of the stars, Bannerof the stars  
• Babylon 5 - lots of alien religions 

Is there a line you shouldn't cross?

• There's always going to be someone! Depends on how it's done and your tolerance for pushback
• Be respectful, but don't be so afraid of offending that you write milquetoast
• Blasphemy - if you're doing it in the service of art, not just poking at sacred cows
• Taboos and blasphemy - if your book becomes subject of controversy how would you handle it? These days there's a real concern to protect privacy online and even in the real world

Marc Blake has an upcoming STRAEON issue focusing on religion

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World Building

• Jacqueline Carey
• Clay Griffith
• Gail Z. Martin
• Thomas Mays
• Chris Kennedy

• Stephen King often starts his stories in the middle of "boring" and mundane-middle of the country, small unknown town-then brings in the “different”
• You have to use terminology that your readers recognize. Even off-world, your aliens are already speaking English (or whatever you're publishing in) (this doesn't mean you can't use alien terminology, you just have to incorporate it in a way that will be clear to your readers)
• Nature of good and evil - Limits of what you're willing to do
• Logistics, economics, religion 

How do you learn about logistics, economics, geology, space (orbits, moons, etc).

• Jacqueline struggled with learning about Aztec culture including human sacrifice, struggled w/how not to demonize, found some Aztec poetry. Beautiful language, including some poetry that included their views on death – something clicked and gave her a POV
• Clay has background as a historian - if you're dealing with war, for instance, you need to be *aware* of all the spectrum of war, battle, logistics, food, health, etc...even if you don't actually talk about it
• First rule of war: pay your army!
• We don't think about how things work until they don't - part of the author's thinking about "then what happens" should include "what goes wrong?"
• Layers levels of difficulties on the characters... There should be problems!
• How do people react to the situations they're in?
• Sometimes serendipity in the bad – traveling during a train strike in Italy leads to a story (I once missed a flight from LA to Sydney and discovered the Mexican muralist Diego Rivera at the LA County Museum of Art)
• Small details - giant war armadillos must be scrubbed down, or they'll get a fungus

When you're reading or watching, what throws you out of your suspension of disbelief?

• Glaring plot inconsistencies, when writer attempts to nail a detail they clearly have no experience (horses) – or haven't made much effort to learn
• Write what you know...know more! Learn, ask someone who knows about your topic to read and check your “facts”
• Consistency of language - modernisms or anachronisms...often (annoyingly) too overly cute
• Too contrived - if I can think of three ways around instead of the most dangerous path, then give some good reasons why they can't do the easier thing
• Explain why the action is unavoidable, so it doesn't feel too contrived
• If magic exists, it would trump everything! Why wouldn't someone be king of the world
• Problem with Star Trek reboot -guy in school suddenly jumps 6 ranks and is put In charge of a starship, then keeps it after the crisis?!

How do you manage pacing?

• Jacqueline likes to give just enough detail to let imagination take hold...don't want to get too travelogue-y, keep the story moving, too!
• Gail calls this dribbling the details in as reader needs them
• Tom tries to make details organic to your character's POV - s/he won't be thinking about all the big picture (avoid the “as you know, Bob” in dialogue or internal monologue)
• Chris thinks of Ben Franklin’s saying, “All good things in moderation”!

Is fan fiction an indicator of successful world building?

• Jacqueline says she doesn't read Kushiel fanfic… Could be? Maybe more wish fulfillment from fan writers?
• Gail says, “As an author, ask yourself if I were reading, what would interest me? At the end of the bus tour, where would you like to see more? How about that little alley down there?”

How do you choose when to include the tidbits of detail? Strictly as plot demands?

• Jacqueline says for her it's very much as characters need to know ... Also have to bring the world they’re in to life
• Clay agrees it's largely based on characters’ need to know
• Gail adds that some cool things add spice for the reader, the  "cinnamon" of the book

Recommendations of good world building?

• Jim Butcher’s Dresden series 
• Mercedes Lackey’s Valdemar series 
• James Corey’s Expanse series 
• CS Lewis’ Narnia series 

#

And so, with a loving heart, I offer you

Namaste

I’ve heard many translations. Here’s my favorite:

The light of the universe that shines within me recognizes

the light of the universe that shines within you.

#

Prompt: What price magic? Part 3

 …Continued from Part 2

I nodded and shook his hand, pressing into it a few of Suphora’s and my hard-earned coins from my honest work in the market.

I found Suphara surrounded by kind women, who dried her tears and brushed out her hair, braiding it into the long coils they once again wrapped around her delicate neck. I went to the baker and bought the rest of his day-old bread to share with them, to thank them for mothering her for a little while.

That night, we curled up together by the fire, and I held both her hands together in mine. “Suphara, why did you tell the medico you never breathed the poison smoke? You told me the first night we met about how the infidels burned your village and your parents died from breathing the smoke after they brought you here.”

She began to cry. “I didn’t want those memories, so I used them for my magic.” She sniffled and pulled a hand free to wipe her eyes and nose on her sleeve.

“I don’t understand,” I complained, thinking about her magic. “How do you use memories for your magic?”

She sat up and rested her hands on her knees. “There is always a price for magic,” she said. “Each time I use magic, it costs a memory.

“Every time? What do you mean, it costs a memory?”

“I don’t remember that memory anymore. That’s why I separate my memories every day, into those I want to keep, and those I want to use.”

I remembered her hands moving the first time we met, and suddenly it all fell into place. But… “Then you should not use so much! You'll use up all your memories!”

She dropped her head and said softly, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have that many good memories to keep. Better to use them for magic that helps make our lives better, don’t you think?”

Exhausted by the day, we lay down. She rested her head on my shoulder and fell asleep. I still held her hand and listened to her breathing. Before I fell asleep, I whispered, “It’s okay. I’ll remember them for you, then.”

To be continued?

Dogs in house:	Houdini
Time writing	~1 hour
June word count	9,012

Prompt: What price magic? Part 2

 …Continued from Part 1

And just like that, we were inseparable. Suphara was eight, and her parents had brought her into the city last spring, after the infidels burned their village. But they had both inhaled too much of the poison smoke, and they died when the air turned cold a few months later.

She’d been on her own for over a year when we met. From that day, we took care of each other, often sleeping in the basement where we first met, roaming all over the city. Suphara convinced me not to steal, because she could always produce food on demand, or light a fire. She never seemed reluctant to do so, and I never gave a second thought to her magic. Soon the market owners began to trust I was no longer a thief, and they paid me to run errands and help them. I forgot all about what she said when we first met. If anything, I remembered the pomegranate.

But she told me about her parents the first night we lay together by the fire I built and she lit, as we shared stories for hours before we fell asleep, hands entwined. So I was puzzled when, some months later, we waited in line to see one of the infrequent visiting medicos who setup camp in the market square and freely offered their services to any in need.

When it was our turn, Suphara clutched my hand so tightly it hurt. I told the medico we were brother and sister, and could I stay to comfort her? He nodded gravely as he unwrapped her long braids from around her neck. They draped almost to the floor, and her skin was pale and wrinkled from their weight. As he listened to her heart and to her breathing, he frowned. “My child, have you been exposed to the poison smoke of the infidels from across the sea? I fear I hear it in your lungs, and there is an irregular pattern to your heartbeat.”

Suphara said, “No, sir. I have not.”

I started and pulled my hand free of hers in confusion. “What are you talking about? You told me they burned your village!”

She paled and jumped up, running from the room with her braids trailing behind her. I ran to the doorway and saw one of the market women grab her into a tight embrace as Suphora sobbed on her shoulder. Turning back to the medico, I asked, “Why would she not tell you the truth?”

He shrugged. “Memory can be a funny thing. Sometimes, when memories are too terrible, it’s better to forget them. But this is dangerous for her. She must never take even one more breath of the poison smoke, or it could kill her. She might not want to remember why, but she must remember that. Will you help her?”

Continued in Part 3…

Dogs in house:	Houdini
Time writing	~1 hour
June word count	8,975

Prompt: What price magic? Part 1

I was ten when I met Suphara. On the streets for three years already, I knew all the best hiding places and escape routes around the market. I was running away from fat old Bophat, who ran faster than you’d think he should, when I ducked under the city’s terra cotta water pipes and dropped into the basement of one of the Sepphir’s  abandoned warehouses.

But the basement wasn’t abandoned, and I rolled behind a support column, trying to breather silently though my lungs were begging for more air. I’d only gotten a glimpse of someone, and when I heard no noise, I finally leaned around the column for a peek.

A girl sat cross-legged on a woven mat. Her eyes were closed, her traditional braids were wrapped around her neck, and her hands were out in front of her. She held then both palm up, then turned her right hand over and pushed it to the side. Then her left hand turned over and pushed down almost to the ground. Her right hand flipped upright and lifted above her head, then slid to the left as far as she could reach without turning. What was she doing? I crept closer.

“I’m sorting memories,” she said quietly, and I was so surprised that I almost fell back on my rear end. I didn’t speak out loud, did I?

“No, but you think very loudly,” she said; and when she smiled, I fell in love. With a shake of my head, I tried to push that thought down somewhere where she wouldn’t hear it. While I was thinking about that, I finally heard what she had first said.

“Sorting memories?” I asked. “Why?”

She kept her eyes closed and her hands moving. I watched, fascinated.

“Because some I want to keep, and some I will use,” she said. Opening her eyes, she drew her hands together, fingertips cupped as if she held something. The air shimmered, and I squinted to see what she was doing. She opened her hands, and a pomegranate rested on her palm, large and red. My mouth watered at the sight.

“How did you do that?” I asked in wonder.

She laughed. “Magic, of course, silly.” She tore open the fruit and handed half of it to me. I scooted closer and pulled it out of her hand.

“Can you teach me,” I asked, sucking on a handful of the rich seeds. “That would be so awesome!”

Laughing again, she said, “I don’t think so. You either have magic or you don’t. If you don’t know about it by now, I don’t think you have it,” she said thoughtfully, spitting out a few pits.

She didn’t tell me the price then, and I was so excited about the pomegranate and the idea of magic, that I forgot what she said about sorting memories.

Continued in Part 2…

Dogs in house:	Houdini
Time writing	~1 hour
June word count	8,975

Prompt: Searching for Signs

Thanks to Kevin Radthorne for permission to use his beautiful “Searching for Signs”!

Ganenkh sat cross-legged at the top of the rise, his eyes closed and his face lifted to the warm summer sun. Still as the boulders that scattered the steppes, he flew on the shoulder of his companion, Shikra, high on the thermals above. Across the steppes, he watched the wanderers approach.

When they came near, he rose in a single motion, standing on his left leg, with his right foot braced against his left thigh, The Watcher. Shikra announced them, spiraling down with a loud skree, until he landed on Ganenkh’s padded shoulder and preened himself.

Eyes still closed, Ganenkh called out, “Welcome, Chuluunbold Enkhtuyaa, I have been waiting for you.” Shikra tilted his head to the side, sharing the view through his steady golden eyes.

Enkhtuyaa stopped at his words, planting her staff in the hard-packed soil. Her long black hair danced in the warm breeze. Her eyes were gold as Shikra’s, but as she turned the compass of her staff to face them, her eyes blazed red as the jewels set in its spokes and center. She was younger than Ganenkh, but she stood with strong courage before him. Her red silk draped and curved around her, and Ganenkh had a sudden desire to see her dancing. His lips twitched and he pressed them together to maintain his decorous mien.

“Who are you?” She asked, her eyes glowing like the setting sun. “How do you know my name? And what are you doing…here?” She waved her left hand wide, taking in the barren steppes around them.

Still standing in Watcher pose, Ganenkh brought his palms together in front of his heart and bowed. “I am called Batsaikhan Ganenkh, and I have been sent to show you the way.”

She frowned, but custom dictated she return his sacred greeting. As she rose from her bow and returned her hand to her unmoving staff, she challenged him again. “Show me the way to where?”

“Where you are meant to go, Bahaduyar Enkhtuyaa,” Ganenkh smiled. She drew back in surprise. “Namaste,” he said, as he opened his eyes. They blazed as red as hers.

The light in me is part of the light in you.

Shikra screamed and flew into the darkening sky.

Dogs in house:	Houdini, Eggs
Time writing	~45 minutes, plus name research
June word count	6,817

Prompt: A young boy who longs for a life of fantasy can't get to sleep one night and finds himself thrown into the world of 13:00, where everything works differently. There he meets a boy who looks just like him, who has been stuck in that world for 11 years.

Thanks to Mrs. Powell’s fantasy prompts at <https://mrspowell.wikispaces.com/Fantasy+Writing+Prompts>

“John, go to sleep now. I mean it!” Mom called up the stairs as I crept out of my room to get some water from the hall bathroom. She had the “third strike” tone in her voice, so I just called down, “Okay, good night, Mom,” as I hesitated in the doorway to my dark room.

Taking a deep breath, I sprinted the four steps across and made a heroic leap onto my twin bed so that nothing could reach out and grab me from underneath. I mean, I know there’s not really anything like monsters under the bed, but no sense taking chances, right?

Tucking my feet and arms under the sheet so I’d be safe from anything reaching up for bare skin, I stared out the window, watching for fireflies. I relaxed when I saw one distinctive J-curve, then another. Fireflies don’t come out when monsters around, I bet, so I’m probably safe.

Watching for the flash of the fireflies, I didn’t think my eyes closed, but they popped open when something rapped on my window. I pulled the sheet up over my head, hoping I had dreamed it. Three sharp taps on the glass convinced me to pull the sheet down enough to take another look.

Had a firefly landed on my window? A shadowy form crouched on the outside sill, and I could see lacy wings waving behind it. But it was much too large to be a firefly. Or a moth…

I scrambled up and put my nose almost to the glass. A tiny boy jumped backward in surprise, then grinned and waved with both arms, motioning me to lift the window. I probably shouldn’t have, but I reached up and twisted the finger lock, then pushed up the window.

“Hi John!” the winged boy said. “Come on! We’ve got to get going, or we won’t make it in time.”

“Wait…what? Go where? How do you know my name? What are you talking about?”

The boy jumped up and down, landing with his hands on his hips. “Boyoboy. You said you’d ask a lot of questions. You weren’t kidding.” He shook his head.

“I… what?”

He rolled his eyes. “John. Come on. You. Sent. Me. To. Get. You. Don’t break your brain. Just come with me!”

I shook my head slowly, side to side, trying to make sense of what he said.

“John. We don’t have time. Pleeeeease…Oh!” He snapped his fingers. “I forgot to tell you what you said. Okay, here goes.” He struck a pose with his left hand on his hip and right fist held up in front of his face. “Johnathan Andrew, you were right. There are monsters under the bed. And a sheet blockade is all it takes to foil them.”

I staggered backward from the window. It seemed like a wind was roaring in my ears. I never told anyone. Any. One. About that. I would have been labeled a scaredy cat and sisypants faster than you can say … boo.

I looked around my room.

“What now? Come on! If that doesn’t convince you, I don’t know what I’m going to do here, big guy.”

“Hold on. I just need my sneaks.”

TBC?

Dogs in house:	Houdini
Music	“Let It Go” variations on youtube.com
Time writing	~35 minutes
June word count	6,445