Writing About Pain

So, today I went to the dentist. I’m currently in the middle of having my teeth straightened with braces – fairly unusual, for me being 24, I know, but there was no spare $7,000 lying around when I was younger – and a lot of it hurt. A lot more of it was seriously uncomfortable, and it’s not the pain that bothers me so much as the sensation of my teeth being pressed on forcefully. Not to brag or anything, but, I can handle pain.

My liver, again, not to brag or anything, is to normal livers what Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson is to normal people. It metabolises things so fast that caffeine and nicotine have no effect on me whatsoever, I could sober up from however many drinks I’d had (back when I used to drink) in about ten minutes, and, more unfortunately, local anaesthetic basically doesn’t work on me at all. Not only does this make me terrified about how possibly ineffective general anaesthetic might be if I ever need emergency surgery, but it also means that the two surgeries I have had done recently were pretty much un-anaesthetised.

The first of these was getting my wisdom teeth removed (which, yes, can be done under just local if you can’t afford an operating theatre and an anaesthetist for the general), and the second was some excess teeth to create room for the braces because my jaws were crowded. It was highly unpleasant both times, but it has rather put most other unpleasant things in my life into perspective. Everyday orthodontic visits like this one are a piece of cake compared to having people digging around in my gums with needles and scalpels.

What occurs to me, however, is this: pain is a very personal thing. When we see a character in a movie or read a character in a book experiencing pain, we imagine our own pain, the pain that we know, because we can’t ever really know how someone else’s brain or nerves reacts to certain things. We can feel phantom pains in limbs that no longer exist, or feel sympathetic pain when someone we know describes something they’ve been through.

My current story being a fantasy book that involves fighting things, people are inevitably (spoilers, I guess) going to get hurt at certain points. And I find myself wondering if my perception of pain is so different from normal people’s as to create some kind of divide between what everyone else will think is an appropriate amount of pain for someone to be able to push through, and what I do. I have it on good authority from literally everybody I’ve told about my surgeries that a lot of people can’t even stand to imagine going through them the way I did, without any really numbing, though of course I am not one to presume there aren’t a lot of people with a pain tolerance as high as mine.

But that makes it even more interesting, in my opinion.

Does everyone who writes anything inextricably describe their own experiences of pain in their writing, or can some people find a more generic way to express it? Can we ever accurately convey that description of our own sensations, or does every reader invariably imagine their own experiences of pain, unable to extract such a primal feeling from our own visceral knowledge of it?

I feel like I should go back and re-read something where a character experiences pain, and analyse my reactions to find out whether I rationalise what happens into my own knowledge of pain, or accept the description however it may differ from what I experience.

Like love, there are many ways to interpret pain, but unlike love, pain can never really be shared with anyone else. Perhaps that is why I’ve never particularly thought about it like this before. It’s disconcerting to realise that, in one aspect at least, all of my characters may be clones of myself, exhibiting something personal to me.

But then I wonder whether anyone even notices…

Fantasy Cities and Towns

Describing locations in fantasy books is often a lot more in-depth than in any kind of modern fiction story set in the real world, for obvious reasons. It’s easy enough to get away with saying “it was a town like any other ordinary town in [America/Britain/Denmark/wherever]” because many readers will have lived in, visited, or otherwise just seen in other forms of media the kind of town that’s being referenced. It loses a modicum of impact when you say “it was a town like any other in Cardolan,” though.

In terms of both fantasy and modern fiction it’s largely dictated by the writing style of the author, of course, but generally speaking more elaboration is called for in an entirely fictional world into which only the author can see.

I find it much easier to give a clear picture of the settlement in question if it’s a place that the characters return to often; such places often develop a character of their own, in a way, like the iconic Ankh-Morpork in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series, from which I can name streets that have been visited by multiple characters from that world. Describe enough parts of a place, and revisit it enough times, and it does take on a familiarity, both for the readers and the author, which allows more vivid imagery to form and a greater picture of the town/city/farmstead/whatever location you want to be compiled.

I have a harder time writing a snapshot description of a place that will not be visited again – a one-time visit to a certain town along one character’s path, that they won’t be coming back to, that will never be written about again. In short, if there’s anything I want to say about this place, I have to get it all out in the one description, and I find this to be a lot of pressure.

Ironically, I’m the opposite when it comes to people; it’s much easier for me to describe a minor character who probably won’t be elaborated on again than to describe a major character who will probably be seen in a different light later by somebody else, I think mostly because I really want to capture the major characters in exactly the right way.

I started thinking about all of this because of what I wrote today, roughly two thousand words (which is my daily goal, for now), which contained a description of an Irtysu town called Cillasca that the story won’t be revisiting after this part:

“…they were still a very noticeable band as they crested the lip of the rise below which Cillasca sat, squat and crowded, inside a sheltered valley, plumes of chimney smoke rising into the air like beacons. As with many Irtysu settlements, it had originally been positioned in the dell for strategic reasons, and had gradually outgrown the natural defensive walls of the valley, leading to partial excavation of rock in some places and in others a few clusters of houses perched on the walls above the rest of the settlement, and clumped buildings bordered by wooden barricades squeezing out of each end of the basin.

Though the rooves were a mixture of slate tiles and cheaper thatch, the buildings were all made of stone, each and every one, as was the standard across Irtysuhëm and indeed in Havershom as well. In the cold of the Winter Peninsula, wood as a building material was only really used for ships, barricades, weapons and shields, and furniture, since it would burn too easily to make building houses out of it very practical in a land where fires were essential and raiders a very real possibility. As a result, stonemasonry and quarrying were important industries all across the Winter Peninsula, and this was one of the reasons Serutric often found himself having to push further and further east to reach truly wild parts of his people’s land, since quarries would pop up anywhere where sufficient amounts of stone could be extracted.

There was one, rather small by usual Irtysu standards, on the western outskirts of Cillasca, above the township and mostly out of sight; Serutric knew that Gullinis, having been born a farmer, preferred fields and animals to mining and industry, as he did, which was probably why the nearby quarry was so unusually modest. Beyond the northern borders of the settlement were several plantations of blue ash trees, which were grown specially to be harvested and carted off to the shipwrights, and were the Ascandar tribe’s main offering to his father, where other tribes often sent stone or food.”

I prefer a more piecemeal description of the larger cities in my story, as with the Havershonian capital city Lockolme where I gradually build up a picture of the slate rooves and cobbled streets, noting its position below the mountains and adding specific districts and buildings that are crucial over time as the story spends more time there. But for Cillasca, especially given what will be happening there, I needed to get the description all out at once.

Is this usual for fantasy stories? I am not sure, though I am quite curious. The fantasy books I have read most are of course The Lord of the Rings, and Tolkien could never resist the urge to describe any part of his world. It is naturally very important as a writing technique, particularly in fantasy, in order to draw the reader into the world, so I hope that my descriptions turn out satisfactorily.

If I can create even a tenth as vivid a world as Tolkien managed to do, I will be a happy woman.

News and Writing Tidbits

So it has been several days since I last wrote anything, mostly because I find myself constantly in a position of wondering whether anything I want to say is even interesting enough to tell my friends, let alone post publicly on the internet. It’s also partially, however, because due to inexperience, I’m not sure how much I’m supposed to share of my writing, particularly before my book is done.

For instance, I’m aware that posting whole chapters online is probably not a good idea so long before it’s finished, but since it’s the most interesting thing I’m doing at the moment, I constantly want to talk about it (as I have done recently several times).

The other thing I have to say is that unfortunately this book is going to have to take a backseat in my life for a while from now on. I’m currently studying an IT degree with a flexible courseload so I took the month of May as a kind of break to work on my writing much harder, and now I have to go back to focussing on the course.

I’m terrible at implementing organisation, but I’ve done up a whole schedule for myself that I will try my best to stick to, which includes time for blogging everyday (provided I can come up with anything interesting to say, although I can always just fall back on Tolkien facts, I suppose) and a smaller amount of writing whenever I can manage it. I also have plans, so that I don’t go mad from not being creative enough, to undertake one small project, like a poem or a short story or an outline for something, every week, which I may post here.

I’m frankly flabbergasted as many people have viewed these things I’ve rambled about as has been happening. I honestly thought this would just be me shouting into the void, although I suppose some of the posts probably are. I have a very wide range of interests, and the posts about writing (and science) are the ones that garner people to go so far as to follow me (to my terror), and those are the ones I am the most unsure about.

So… because I am writing about them currently in the story, here is a profile of a fantasy race from my book Into the Sun.

The Irtysu (for English speakers, pronounced like the words “ear” “too” and “sue” put together)

Culture type: tribal, pastoral. Farmers work their lands and give tribute (in the form of food, since they do not use currency, only barter) to tribal leaders living in larger settlements in return for protection from raiders and enforcement of laws.

Homeland: Irtysuhëm. The land in the furthest northern reaches of the Frozen Continent, it lies on the western coastline of what is called the Winter Peninsula, though they seek to push all the way east through colonisation efforts. Aggressive farming efforts struggle to produce enough food in the harsh conditions, the land often giving way to tundra that must be landscaped by planting trees and diverting riverways. It snows almost constantly through winter (though lightly) and the bracing cold is a mark of pride for the Irtysu, who state that it has made them strong. Its north and south borders are formed by high mountain ranges, and to its south lies Havershom, with whom it has intermittently been at war for several hundred years.

Religion: a pantheon of various animal-themed Gods. Most notably Grannoch, the Bear-God of Strength; Korvannon, the Crow-God of Storms; Rinca, the Doe-Goddess of Life; and Avellor, the Horse-God of War.

Government: feudal. The tribal leaders often go to war with each other but heed the rule of whichever tribe is counted as having the Chieftain until they are ready to fight each other for power again. Alliances are made and formed based on power struggles and trade opportunities and the favour of those tribes who live near the border to the neighbouring country of Havershom is always highly sought-after. The current Chieftain, Runatric, hails from the Gerau tribe, with the seat of his power at Gerausund in the centre of Irtysuhëm’s coastline. Much of his tribe’s power stems from their ready access to the sea and sailing prowess. The Gerau rose to power during the time of Runatric’s father Segaldic and have held their position since.

Physical characteristics: blonde, silver or white hair, generally. Darker hair colours exist, particularly reds, but they are something of an anomaly. Very pale skin. They tend to be quite bulky; men in particular are usually muscular, as life and the work they all do is hard. Both genders tend to be tall and broad-shouldered by comparison to other races. Blue, green or grey eyes are most common.

Other notable facts: adulthood begins at 15. Women can learn fighting if they choose and can find a master who is accepting apprentices. At 15 each Irtysu acquires their own first horse, usually paid for as a birthday present by their parents. The Irtysu hold horses in very high regard and have formidable cavalry forces which they pit against each other or Havershom. Any Irtysu who kills a dragon is granted the title of Sky-cleaver by the Chieftain and may ask for any gift he or she wishes. The Irtysu have an above-average number of magic-users due to their fortitude and strength cultivated by their harsh lands.

Real-life inspiration?: not entirely. The climate of the Winter Peninsula informed a lot of how the Irtysu turned out for me. They probably come across as seeming quite similar to the Vikings, wearing a lot of fur, being quite aggressive, that sort of thing. It was unintentional; I needed them to be big and burly to survive in the ridiculous cold, and stubborn and proud and not all that bright overall to explain why they didn’t just leave. Some of my races have a basis in real-life culture, but not the Irtysu.

If anyone found this interesting, I have a lot of races I could do this for. We shall see!

Diversity in Media

So I’m going to touch here on what is probably going to be called a ‘controversial’ issue. Mostly because I find it very confusing and as a writer I sense it informing my internal debate around certain choices I need to make about my books.

I feel like at some point, possibly, particularly during the era when I was in high school slightly less than ten years ago, you could write a book with a homosexual character in it without receiving a backlash of gargantuan proportions. Sure, you might get messages from the same extremists who message anyone who’s ever said anything about how homosexual people probably shouldn’t be murdered or bullied, but (speaking as a fantasy author) they’re the same kind of people who would automatically say your book leads to worship of the devil and witchcraft anyway, so, you know – why not.

Recently, particularly in regards to video games, the large numbers of people crying out for diversity in the forms of media they consume have begun to be seen as something of an angry mob, and in response one can now find an attitude that decries any diversity as either being forced onto creators (who could never possibly have wanted it in the first place) or pushing some kind of social justice agenda (for those who state that it was their own decision to include the characters that are described as diverse). We saw this just recently with the release of Mad Max: Fury Road, the movie being labelled “feminist propaganda” by varyingly extreme degrees of people who subscribe to this idea of diversity as an oppressor.

Now, the fantasy book that I am nearly one hundred thousand words through right now has four main characters, one of whom is female, and one of whom is a homosexual male… and as someone who isn’t pushing any kind of agenda it’s sad to me that I feel like the book may be doomed already before even seeing the light of day, because of this backlash. It’s a rather intimidating thing to have looming so large in the public eye and causing such a stir in the already-turbulent waters of trying to become an author.

I thought, for a very long time, about either doing what J. K. Rowling did with Dumbledore’s sexuality (which is to say, never mentioning it at all in the books, and making it known outside of the canon), and also about trying to find a way in which the female character dying would make a good plot point for the story so that she wouldn’t be so far to the forefront, gathering so much attention that could have people labelling my book as feminist propaganda, too.

That may sound cowardly, to say that I considered those things. In essence, you are correct, but I am a very shy person, who doesn’t stand up well to being shouted down, which is why this blog is such a huge step for me.

And I decided against both of those things, in the end, because not only did both options lessen the story, but I didn’t write my characters with those traits for any other reason than because that’s how the characters seemed right to me. I wasn’t going to hide something I had done that was in no way wrong even by particularly judgemental standards in a manner akin to drawing dots on your skin that look like measles but really aren’t, and then quarantining yourself anyway.

And I wanted to talk about why that is, why it is that me writing characters who are female or homosexual has nothing to do with an agenda. For me, it comes down to the difference between how I use plot devices, and how I use character devices.

A plot device, as the name implies, is an aspect of a character or thing that informs the plot of the entire story. A character’s skills might cause them to be called for to undertake a certain task that is integral to the plot, or their family and ancestry could involve them inextricably in parts of the plot if they are heirs to thrones or involved in some kind of Montague-and-Capulet-esque blood feud.

A character device (at least to me; please note that in no way am I saying this is the only way to write or even particularly better/worse/comparable to anyone else’s) on the other hand is something that informs the emotional arc of a particular character. Like a traumatic event in their past, which causes them painful memories, or devotion to a particular deity that colours how they see the world.

While even under these definitions it would be entirely possible to use race or gender or sexuality as a plot device, especially if you were going to make it about some kind of riot, in the case of my main characters, both Annimelda’s gender and Bactiar’s sexuality were chosen as character devices, not as something to specifically govern the plot.

It would be easy to make Annimelda male (Andrius? I don’t know what I would call him/her). All of the major plot points from the beginning of the book – the disappointment of a father in his heir not having the right kind of magic that has always been in their family; the loveless arranged marriage; a corrupt court assisting in the overthrow of the heir once the father is gone; the resolve to take back the throne – these can all effortlessly be applied to a male character.

But I liked the way having a female character complemented the other three main leads, and how her being a woman changed the dynamic of the arranged marriage slightly, and how it changed her relationship with her father slightly, and essentially just how the character interacted with the plot itself. I didn’t do it because I believe it would have been lesser if the book had featured Andrius instead of Annimelda because of Andrius being male, or because I wanted to push a feminist agenda.

Similarly, I didn’t write Bactiar as gay because I thought the story would be worse if he were straight, or because I felt like I needed a homosexual character to tick a box, I wrote him like that because it seemed right for him. Just as some people in real life are gay, so are some characters. The plot doesn’t hinge around it; a big deal isn’t made out of it; it’s simply how he is.

Do I find it likely that the people criticising Mad Max will accept that reasoning? Not really, no. But it is my reasoning, and I find it equal parts interesting and alarming that fear of not being able to get a book published nearly caused me to change parts of it. Ironically, this is exactly what these same people state must have been done to force diverse characters into certain things, the loud voice of public pressure cowing creators into submission.

In the end, I decided that I didn’t want to let total strangers make my decisions for me. Only time will tell if those same strangers will object to being left out of my writing process later.