The Art of a Prequel

As time progresses and the entertainment industry slowly runs out of ideas, the notion of prequels has begun losing consumer appeal. What was once a creative alternative to sequels, spin-offs and...well...brand new stories with unique characters is becoming a surefire last resort for those wishing to cash in on established success. While prequels have much to offer when done well, more often than not they are carelessly put together and the end result is lackluster. This is partially due to heavy reliance on fan knowledge and support, and largely due to writing backwards being less forgiving than writing forwards. To write a good prequel, one must be talented in all the ways he or she would write any engaging story. However, they must do so with even more limitations, awareness, and demand for surprise.

Time is the writer's primary confines. Care must be taken to maintain accuracy and continuity with previous lore (future events) without threatening to alter thresholds in the timeline. The timelines themselves can pose a problem if significant historical events that were previously alluded to are neglected, or if such events are created for the sake of current plot and are then, chronologically, wiped from future lore via character ignorance.

Another issue of time is settling on the start of it. Going backward from a point, the writer only has so large a window to create a compelling tale (assuming the character is human) before an overlap or parallel occurs. The focus, then, is locating the exact moment in a character's life wherein she becomes interesting. From here it is a matter of creating a series of events to aid in a reverse-arc. The original character is dissected, mangled, and ran through the gamut (figuratively, and at times, literally!) to make sure it undergoes enough change to be considered dynamic and interesting...yet winds up in exactly the same state her future self. In essence, we have to uncreate a character backward.

New characters must also be introduced with caution and their influence monitored. Importance must be such that their existence is crucial to current story progression, but not so much that their absence in future events would go unnoticed or unmentioned by the main character. There are obvious solutions for characters who fail to make appearances later on, solutions which many readers and viewers see coming a mile away. This is an inevitable technical flaw. Concerns should lie in two places specifically: allowing new characters to have an impact in the current story, and making their impact resound in future events. This could be adopted vernacular or mannerisms, skill sets, scars, trinkets and items, or memories. For these reasons, it is a good idea to have every character's history in mind—where they've been, who they've known, what they've done—despite in what order said character appears in the chronology.

Perhaps the biggest technical flaw of all is regard (or lack thereof) for the main character's safety. The audience already knows our character survives to take place in future events. Why, therefore, should they be concerned at all for her health and well-being? For all intents and purposes, the character is immune from death and her success, in one form or another, is guaranteed. This is where strong character building and storytelling come into play, and also where many prequels fall short.

Rather than manifesting a literal theme park and throwing beloved characters on a series of rides to thrill the audience, the writer cannot be lazy and forsake one of the most important rules: Make the reader CARE. To do this, sometimes the character has to be reinvented from the ground up. Her path to the state of mind in future exploits must consist of more than petty action sequences and memorable (or not-so-memorable) dialogue. It must consist of very real emotional struggles, impossible decisions, forged friendships and severed bonds. The audience must be forced to forget that our character survives her obstacles...and one of the best ways to do this is by reminding them of that character's humanity through loss, suffering, and physical pain.

So long as we can relate to and feel something for a character, the mere fact that they survive becomes a moot point before long. By that time, it will become clear that the character does not arrive at her future incarnation physically or emotionally unscathed.

On "Dumbing it Down"

I don't do it so often anymore, but occasionally I will look back at my old short stories, poems, and the first draft of A&E and marvel at how far my writing has come over the last decade. With age, experience and reading I have managed to improve upon many things that have strengthened me as a writer while coming into my own personal style. Learning new words, new techniques, experimentation. All of these are a part of development. And thanks to a few courses in creative writing, I learned how to trim down my prose when I became too wordy. I've finally reached a point where I am confident in my abilities as a writer, yet I still struggle with one aspect of feedback that I receive constantly: the issue of dumbing it down.

Like most commentary, my initial reaction is to take it with a grain of salt. When someone says that something doesn't make sense, I have to balance the possibility of my not having explained it thoroughly against an individual's capacity to solve, interpret or deduce. Additionally, personal opinions and tastes play a large role in a reader's feedback. As a result, suggestions are not always objective, neutral critiques. What flags a comment in my mind is having heard the same complaint or suggestion several times before. This says to me, "Hey Sean, maybe you're doing something wrong!" To which I reply, "Perhaps I should take a closer look." And so I do. This has also made me a stronger writer.

But I seem to have hit a wall where I am unable or unwilling to compromise.

After a bit of research I have learned that most publications, be them magazines, newspapers or novels, are written between a fifth- and eighth-grade level because it maximizes readability by the widest margin of people. Obviously, the easier something is to read, the more people in theory can and will read it. (Movies focus on the PG-13 rating for this same reason.) It makes sense, of course. But I also have to consider the publications that do not subscribe to this philosophy. I have to consider the literary geniuses throughout history who didn't care about "maximizing sales" but instead focused on being original and creating a masterpiece. Even if it meant only a precious few would understand or appreciate it. Even if it meant that they would be long dead before their genius became fully realized.

My concern: How is an author's style defined, and at what point does an oversimplification of prose infringe upon this? I worry because I have worked hard to get my writing where it is. I work hard to write elegantly and intelligently without seeming pretentious or verbose. Yet still, most of my work goes over people's heads. And I know it's not my stories because the incident isn't limited to fiction. My articles, blogs and essays have all had the same effect. I want more than anything to be read and understood and appreciated by the masses, but is establishing myself as an author worth putting on hold the heart and soul of my writing? Are the words I choose and the order in which I use them not the very things that set me apart from another writer? By changing these words to smaller ones or using fewer of them solely for the purpose of increasing their readability, am I...really strengthening my writing, or am I just conforming to the modern paradigm that entertainment should be easily--nigh mindlessly absorbed?

Don't get me wrong. I value ease just as much as the next person. But I also value having the option of various levels or types or degrees of difficulty in whatever I'm doing. (Video games get this right. There is a reason why developers often include hard or outright ridiculous modes to play through.) People--gamers, at least--enjoy challenge. Ergo, being as my target audience largely consists of gamers anyway, I have to believe that people want this same choice when it comes to literature. I mean, do people really want to read 300 pages of sentences consisting of five one- or two-syllable words ALL the time? "John ran to the kitchen. He picked up the phone." /headdesk

Again, nothing wrong with the format, or even the level of writing. What has begun to irk me, however, is the intolerance shown toward writing above the average level of readability. At one point it was acceptable to have varying degrees of difficulty when it came to literature. Now, everyone seems to want easy, easy, easy. On the off-chance that someone tells me why they cannot read my writing through to the end, they usually say something like, "It's too hard," or "I don't want to have to think." Well, why not? Has thinking become so difficult that we can no longer bear the thought of it? What happened to challenging ourselves? What happened to broadening our vocabulary and strengthening our grasp of the English language? Tabloids happened. Reality TV happened. The desire to absorb rather than interpret happened. And the editors, publishers and producers let it happen. We demanded, and they supplied.

And it is possible, too, that the artists, the musicians, the writers are to blame as well. It is possible that when faced with the ultimatum of "dumb it down so we can sell it, or get out" that we commonly take the former option in favor of getting published, finding fame, reaping riches, and so on. The latter option is an exercise in faith, but it is also a stance of principle. To walk away from a surefire deal to preserve one's creative doctrines shows a confidence beyond the money-centric ideology that seems to have afflicted most forms of personal expression. We sacrifice ourselves all too often because we equate the deal, the job, the gig, the contract, the check, to success. We allow those things to validate us despite having diluted who we are and what we create. The proverbial endgame, therefore, has become more a matter of winning favoritism and less one of having something unique or inspiring to offer.

Do we cheapen our methods of self expression by selling them? Of course not. There's nothing wrong with putting a pricetag on one's work. But I do believe that whatever message we are trying to convey as artists is weakened by manipulating and distorting and fine-tuning it to fit inside the perfectly average box so that everyone can perceive it the exact same way. Requisites for interpretive skills, for drawing conclusions, for questioning what we take in, have been relegated into virtual non-existence because everything is constantly spelled out for us! There is little room to inquire, "What about those things?" before someone replies, "There are no other things, save for what we have presented. Nothing exists outside of the box we have drawn for you."

We are supposed to accept this. And I believe most are so conditioned to soaking up like a sponge whatever is poured into their entertainment bowls that they've forgotten how to demand more and instead settle for shallow things...not out of preference, but out of a lack of any other choice! So I'm here to give it to them. And if it takes winning over readers, agents, editors and publishers one by one, then sobeit. The world has plenty of mindless garbage to absorb. But whatever the case, I have absolutely no intention of selling out.

Do I speak from experience? Have I refused a year's salary or more because I'm too stubborn to write "can't" instead of "cannot"? No. My decree, as it were, is one of intent...and it states that my creative integrity will not buckle beneath the pressure of corporate demand and monetary incentive! It will not cater to indifference, to a lack of curiosity or initiative, to those wishing to keep one eye on the prose and the other on the television. My work is not meant to be read on autopilot; as such, I cannot expect everyone to enjoy it. Even those with an affinity for harder and heavier reading won't enjoy it. And that's okay. I still subscribe to the notion that literature is more than a frivolous means of entertaining. It is also an artform. Art...is subject to interpretation, and that's precisely what we could be doing more often. Interpreting...

Instead of absorbing.

Rogue's Creed: Priorities of Parkour

About halfway through Book 2, Yamini begins her studies of parkour. It is then that we get a glimpse at the priority system Narran has chosen to use in order to help Yamini master such a high level skill. What I'm running with in this first draft is my best guess at a traceur's philosophy. While I personally do not practice parkour, the order of priorities Narran suggests seems logical enough to be believed, just as Yamini's instructions to Avatar on the subject of polefighting in Book 1 seemed logical. I have every intention of finding and interviewing a real life traceur to evaluate my take on parkour philosophy. Hopefully I am not far off!

Narran's basic principles are as follows:

Awareness: The ability to actively perceive one's surroundings for the purpose of quickly plotting an effective and efficient course from point A to B. This includes rendering several usable planes for running and climbing, locating stationary and anticipating moving obstacles, and neutralizing, evading or dispatching foes along the course. Limited experience can be gained, to a point, from standstill evaluation of an arena. Further experience can be achieved only by physically navigating a course. Awareness is the top priority and must be mastered first.

Balance: The ability to maintain a heightened kinesthetic disposition despite course difficulty, distraction or duration. This includes compensating for uneven, shifting, narrow, multiple and vertical surfaces at varying velocities. Advanced levels require performing tumbles, flips, various aerial feats, and distributing weight to more quickly and easily traverse an obstacle or lessen impact from a fall. Balance is a high priority, second only to awareness.

Speed: The ability to move rapidly. More than simple sprinting, a rogue must be able to quickly maneuver his or her arms as well as legs in order to grab onto, push or pull various obstacles. Without proper speed, distance between jumps cannot be closed, momentum cannot be built on vertical surfaces, and the chance of being caught increases. "An idle rogue is a dead one." Speed is of moderate priority and should be perfected after awareness and balance are mastered.

Strength: The ability to repeatedly lift, push and pull weight. A rogue's main concern while running, jumping and climbing is body weight. In order to be properly prepared for a flee circuit, one must be able to lift and hold his or her body weight several times, or over a lengthy duration. Uncomfortable positions, such as that of an extended crouch or clinging to the side of a wall, aid both in hiding and escaping. Occasionally the rogue must carry excess weight, depending on the mission. It is thus advisable to train well beyond the practical threshold. Strength is a moderately low priority.

Endurance: The ability to sustain awareness, balance, speed and stength over long periods of time. What appears at first to be one of the more valuable attributes, endurance is actually the lowest priority. Considering that a rogue who properly utilizes the previous four attributes should be able to navigate a course and escape with relative quickness and ease, endurance lessens in importance. "If a rogue finds that she is out of breath and can no longer perform the feats necessary to escape, that rogue has made a mistake somewhere and thus deserves to be caught." Endurance should be perfected to a degree, but should not be given priority over the other four attributes.

What we have here is a chain of priorities: Awareness > Balance > Speed > Strength > Endurance. The further down the chain, the more an attribute's efficiency relies on the ones above it. Awareness is of utmost importance. Balance is essential, but worth nothing if the rogue cannot plot an adequate course in his or her mind. ". . . balance without awareness leads to faltering feet." Speed is essential to physically move from point A to B and to evade capture, but speed is useless if the rogue stumbles and falls. Strength is necessary to overcome many common obstacles, but worthless if the rogue is too sluggish or imbalanced to reach them. Lastly, endurance should be used mostly as a training component to improve the other four attributes. Accomplishing extraordinary feats in a short amount of time is more advantageous to a rogue than maintaining par performance over long durations.

On Love in Fiction

I realize that most popular works of fiction these days are imbued with romantic themes to accompany whatever story the author chooses to tell. And rightfully so! Love (or the desire for it, at any rate) is a relatively universal quality. Following a heartless character is difficult, but following one during his or her reckless pursuit of another human being? We can often relate to that. And in doing so, we come to care for these characters even more. Under the proper circumstances.

One could argue that any great story worth telling involves some elements of love. If this is indeed the case, why not implement a love arc in every story written? As an author, would it not help place your story that much closer to being one of the greats? Would it not instantly gain that much more of an audience and thus produce more sales? Probably. So then why is love, a crucial hook and determining factor for a novel's success, something I downplay in my own writing? The answer, much like love itself, is simple . . . and it is not.

I have thought long and hard on love in fiction, its uses, advantages and drawbacks. One of my best friends, perhaps the most die-hard fan of love and hopeless romantic to a fault, often laments my methods. While I can understand his disappointment by taking a look at my own life, I also have to consider a broader perspective of the world itself. There are many great stories to tell right here, in present day, on our own planet--none of which involve romance. Heroic deeds are committed daily by perfectly average people for reasons other than love, reasons like altruism, stupidity, misguided pride, or simply because it is their job. When we read about these heroes in the paper or see them interviewed on the evening news, rarely will he or she say, "I went through this incredibly courageous act in the name of love!" It just does not happen, and that probably plays a part in why fiction is ridden with romantic heroes.

Taking a slightly less realistic perspective, consider all the fictitious heroes who are driven by love. Perhaps more often than it grants determination or motivation, love in many ways hinders their abilities. Desire for their object of affection serves as a distraction, spawns faulty and reckless logic, and gives the antagonist an obscene amount of emotional leverage. These sorts of elements pave the way to overly generic conflicts. And conclusions. Plots and endings become predictable to the point that our capacity to care about the hero's fate becomes stifled because we have already guessed it! Simply put, in my opinion, a character so intensely driven by love in any genre other than romance is a character equipped with more weaknesses than strengths.

This is not to say that I admonish love in literature completely, for it is nevertheless a vital part of our humanity. Failing to incorporate it at all would be akin to committing an ultimate literary blasphemy and do most works a grave injustice! I embrace love and the humanity it bestows upon fictitious characters, but I choose to remain subtle in doing so:

• Xearo's love for Aeria is strong enough to redeem his soul from eternal darkness and grant humanity a final chance to right itself, yet he never breathes a word of it to her. He pushes his emotions aside, for love takes a back seat to defending his homeworld, allowing himself to focus without distraction.
• Yamini comes to care a great deal for Henrik, the one guildmate who shows her compassion, but in being so young and inexperienced she constantly dismisses her feelings. Her love for a mere boy is easily overshadowed by her dedication to her work and her cause, and its positive aura is negated by a lifetime of dissonance.
• Jadera slowly falls for Tristan, her benefactor and Soulcrafter. But due to circumstances, the two must work together to dethrone the master of dreams before plans of a worldwide spiritual domination can take hold. By the time their mutual affections become realized, irreparable tragedy has already befallen the star-crossed couple.

These are three of my biggest characters, and in all cases life wins out over love. One might say that I take an unfortunate, cynical and subdued approach to love in fiction. But in that regard, have I not also taken a small step toward realism? My characters feel as we feel, and are thus similarly denied or else forced to relegate their feelings to a degree of lesser importance in order to tackle whatever adversity their respective universes throw at them. We often find ourselves at a crossroads of sorts where we must decide between emotional pursuits and dire circumstances; why should they get off easy?

As authors, we govern the choices of our characters in order to tell a story. And share a piece of ourselves. Many authors take a very whimsical approach to romance, commonly making it both the conflict and the resolution in a "love conquers all" motif. My hardly revolutionary philosophy is to show that love, while an interesting dynamic between characters, does not always cut it, and that when the consequences of life push hard enough, it must sometimes be disregarded altogether for the greater good. Fate chooses who is worthy, and she chooses who is not. Like a delicate flower, love is not meant to bloom eternal in all places. Or within all people, for that matter.

My characters and myself . . . we are no exception.

Character Sketch: Azsherade Altairus

After adopting her at the age of ten, Azsherade trains Yamini in the arts of reading and writing so that she may become a righteous scribe and guide Rhevise into revolution. But just after her first year of apprenticeship, Councilman Shahid declares any and all handwritten communication to be a direct act of treason against the Rhevisean Empire. Scribes across the territories are ordered to cease and desist their practices. With his profession destroyed and his own daughter presumed dead, Azsherade shifts his focus to political affairs.

Using his knowledge of the territories to his advantage, Azsherade's reputation spreads quickly as he ascends the political ladder. After three years he achieves the rank of Alderman and gains significant influence within Rhevise. Though his public statements and decrees appear fair (almost too fair) for the majority of the population, his true motives remain unknown. While largely operating behind the scenes in recent months, leaving his associates to do most of his public work, several of Azsherade's decisions are questioned by the Council. Some believe that the former scribe went mad with the loss of his daughter, and now intends to assume control of the territory by circumventing or eliminating the Council altogether in order to employ his own philosophies of order.

When his name finally appears on the ballot for councilman, Azsherade earns more attention than he bargained for. Fearing what he could do with such power, the Aikon Brothers commission an infamous rogue, Soliessen, to assassinate the former scribe. Sensing that some would be out to claim his life, Azsherade holes himself up in his estate, biding time until the election. The ploy might have worked, if not for Soliessen's unsuspecting protege...

Character Sketch: Narran

When Yamini assassinates Councilman Shahid, she unknowingly gains the attention of not one but two dark souls. While Soliessen, bound by the limitations of a physical body, acts with haste to influence the young girl, Narran takes a more subtle approach. Watching silently from the plane of shadow, Narran follows Yamini and interjects subconscious hints and direction when necessary. But when Yamini falters due to her guilt complex, Narran takes over her body temporarily in order to complete the mission at the Ka'Dence Estate and return to the guild hall. She then reveals herself to Yamini, appearing as a dark doppelganger of the young rogue, and attempts to explain the plane of shadows and the spirits who dwell there.

Narran volunteers to take influence during killing blows, but Yamini refuses. Instead, she shadow spirit opts to teach Yamini the dark arts and helps her to develop her shadow abilities, melee fighting prowess, and eventually parkour. Over the course of months, Yamini struggles with a messy execution and turns over the role of killer to Narran to spare her conscience. With more influence and time spent in the physical plane, Narran begins to notice Soliessen coveting Yamini's body and suspects that the guildmaster is up to something. Yamini, confused by Pandora's whisperings at night, rejects the notion and chooses not to trust either completely, for shadow spirits are known for their deceptive nature...

Character Sketch: Soliessen

After Yamini assassinates Councilman Shahid and activates the shadow dormant in her soul, Guildmaster Soliessen locks onto the youth's dark trace and seeks out the girl. She finds Yamini on the street and gives the girl cryptic instructions on how to locate her institution. Once Yamini finds her way to the guild hall and passes her initiation trials, Soliessen aims to build the youth's renown by molding her into a protege. When Yamini awakens her shadow spirit, Narran, Soliessen instructs the young rogue to beware the spirit's influence and to consider banishment. In truth, Soliessen's intentions are dishonest.

As a former shadow spirit herself, Soliessen grows tired of her steadily weakening, aging stolen body. Fully aware of Yamini's divine lineage, a direct descendant of Lady Fate Herself, Soliessen recognizes that a shadow spirit's power channeled through the genes of a demigoddess would be immeasurable. She strives to keep Narran from gaining permanent influence, for once a spirit usurps a host they become bound. Instead, Soliessen bides her time training Yamini and conditioning her mind and body so that it is prepared for the spirit swap. The more Yamini is respected and feared as an apprentice, the less work Soliessen will have rebuilding her own notoriety after assuming influence of the girl's body once and for all...