INTRODUCTION
It is commonly accepted that writing science-fiction is harder than writing fantasy due to the amount of “real world” research that has to go into the former. But as with anything involving art, there are no inviolable rules. Bad science-fiction often features a great deal of poor research. Sometimes none at all. Whereas good fantasy can contain a lot of the same. This is especially true if said fantasy is based on existing lore, folk tales, ethnology, or real-world situations.
The Arabian Nights would be one such example. If you’re going to do an Arabian fantasy it’s difficult to avoid that seminal collection of tales containing everything from djinn to the adventures of Sinbad the Sailor (a leading SF/Fantasy publisher was called Roc, for example). While a majority of fantasy, including Tolkien, draws upon European folk tale and fantasy tradition, today the avid reader can find fantasies based on everything from Japanese mythology to that of Africa and India. The fact that so many of the great early literature from other countries takes the form of fantasy only tempts writers to make contemporary use of it.
What’s difficult to do is to write fantasy that steps outside these obvious precursors. Take China. There are so many stories involving the Monkey King that you could fill a room with Monkey King anthologies. Just as American editors must roll their eyes in exasperation every time another story submission drones on about elves and orcs, wizards with pointy hats and long white beards, and evil sorcerers who have no redeeming social values, so must Chinese editors sputter in frustration at yet the ten thousandth tale featuring some iteration of the Monkey King.
But submit a story, say, where Beijing is stalked at night by a monster given life by that city’s notorious pollution, and you might have something. In the story, the municipal authorities might try to trace the monster to the super-sensitive particulate detectors atop the US embassy. Now you have a tale that doesn’t rely on thousand-year-old traditional storytelling. The Global Times might even buy it.
Or how about a story where an old god submerged by the lake behind the Three Gorges dam threatens to rise up and wreak havoc? Or one where a mermaid (a Chinese mermaid) at Spratley Reef takes offense at the Chinese military chewing up her home? Modern Chinese fantasy can thrive without the Monkey King. Unless some kid suspects the Monkey King is being held in the simian exhibit that’s part of a traveling circus motoring about the hinterland.
Similar examples could be given for every country. The point is that fantasy is much more than extrapolation from ancient tradition. More than vampires and werewolves (although I have yet to see a story where a werewolf ends up in a veterinarian’s office). If nothing else, humanity has always had a fecund imagination. When sitting around a fire you have to do something besides warm your hands.
Once you have latched onto what you hope is a new idea, or at least a novel variation on an old one, the next step is to maintain the internal logic. Just as if you were writing science-fiction. The difference is that with fantasy you get to make up not just some but all of the rules. But there are still rules. Your djinn can’t live in a lamp one minute and a Beverly Hills mansion the next—unless you establish that as one of the rules in your story. Nothing can happen without a reason, no matter how fantastical the scenario. You have to be consistent throughout, even if your story is one about Hieronymus Bosch painting from life.
I hope you find the enclosed tales each a little bit different, but consistent within. Or at least consistently entertaining.
Alan Dean Foster
Prescott, Arizona
June 2018