At some level, all fiction is fantasy, and at some level,
fiction is true. It's the willingness of a reader to suspend disbelief that
makes a story work. Fantasy requires a bit more suspension, and like a bridge,
that suspension needs a good bit of structure.
The newcomer also inadvertently breaks taboo, stumbles into
a problem that he or she does not even see, but which causes turmoil for the
natives. This works on any real-world setting as well, with the colonial trying
to assimilate the natives, or the Yankee trying to fit in with her Southern
belle neighbors.
The otherness of fantasy makes it fun. Magic works. Dragons
abound, whether virile and dangerous or powerful and snarky. Humans as a
sentient race are not alone, though they may be seen as second class by other
races—elves, dwarves, trolls, and the list goes on. Fantasy is always about
finding out who you are, deciding to do what you think you can't, because the
fate of the world depends on you. It's a bit narcissistic. But isn't it fun to
pretend for a few hours that what you do matters that much?
The challenge of fantasy is to do something different with
the same tropes. You can get an insight to our Euro-centered culture by seeing
how we write about the other races of fantasy—tall is good, light is good,
short is funny, ugly is evil. So consider a wisecracking elf, a philosophizing dwarf,
a troll who works as an exotic dancer. Put them in the modern world, where no
one still believes, and they keep out of sight or they work the street,
recognized if not accepted. If the character uses magic, then it's likely to
make the task harder, or to attract someone bigger, stronger and more magical
to be an opponent
It's not that anything goes. The fantasy is to put one or
maybe two changes in the culture and see how the stories develop for the
characters you have. Who uses magic, and what does it cost? How is it learned?
What are the effects? What can be done, and what can't? The most important
decision is what difference it makes to the main character and how it helps or
hinders him from reaching the goal.
For funny fantasy, parody of the tropes of princesses,
fairies, dragons and such are all is easy and fun to write. But the job is
still to sketch out the differences in the world, to break into the new normal,
and find that twist that lets the character connive or finagle to get out of
the difficulty that she is in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Series: Maven Fairy Godmother, Book 1
Author: Charlotte Henley Babb
Genre: Fantasy
Publisher: Muse It Up Publishing Company
Ebook
Pages: 279 / 101k words
Purchase: MuseIt Up | Amazon
| Smashwords | B&N |
Book Description:
Maven's new
dream job--fairy godmother--presents more problems than she expects when she
learns that Faery is on the verge of collapse, and the person who is training
her isn't giving her the facts--and may be out to kill her. Will she be able to
make all the fractured fairy tales fit together into a happy ending, or will
she be eaten by a troll?
Excerpt:
A Handsome Prince (Excerpt from Maven
Fairy Godmother)
As she
entered the Twilight Lounge, Maven transformed into Biker Trash leather,
complete with a tattoo on her shoulder—“Trolls need love too.” The handle of
her wand peeked out of the calf of her right boot.
At the bar,
Maven straddled a black fatboy motorcycle that rose to the occasion. She didn't
question how the Twilight Lounge knew what a motorcycle was.
Belle handed
Maven a mug of some golden, frothy liquid without comment on her persona.
“What I
wouldn't do for a beer,” Maven sighed after knocking back the mug's contents.
She hoped it wasn't hemlock. Belle did not seem pleased to see her.
“What good is it to work in a place where you grant wishes for a living, but you can't get a beer when the job is done?”
“This is Faery, not Heaven,” Belle said, slapping the bar with her polishing rag.
Maven leaned
back on her buddy bar and propped her boots on the gas tank. She fished her
wand from her boot and held it to her ear to listen for the stories from her
clients. She could not get a clear signal.
“Is this seat
taken?” A Handsome Prince stood beside Maven. He smiled, sure of himself from
his raven coiffure to his velvet-clad tush.
Maven looked
up at him, a bit disoriented. “No. Take it.” She pulled herself back together,
remembered where she was and how she looked. Whoever or whatever it was taking
her away from Vivienne and Daisy, it was not a prince. “Take it somewhere
else.”
She sat up
and swung her leg over the bike facing away from him. She held the wand to
focus back on Vivienne, but now the picture was unclear. The impostor prince
blocked the signal.
“You must not
be from around here,” The Prince said. “I have never seen anyone like you
before.” He sat on a gilded throne.
“Just
imaginative,” Maven said. Next time she'd be a harpy or a warthog. She didn't
know how close it was to midnight .
She didn't have lot of experience being hit on in bars in Mundane, especially
not by enchanted un-Princes. “I am just learning how to turn people into
frogs.” Maven smiled, but not sweetly. She aimed her wand pointedly. “Would you
like to be my first attempt?”
The Prince
transformed himself into a large slimy Frog with golden eyes, perched on a lily
pad. “So, you like amphibians?”
“I'm all out
of wart repellent.” Maven slid off the Harley and strode out of the Twilight
Lounge, not stopping to change her garb. Maybe the short walk would let her
think in peace.
When her third-grade teacher allowed her access to the fiction room at the school library,
In the
meantime, Charlotte
She has
studied the folk stories of many cultures and wonders what happened to
ours.Where the stories are for people over 20 who have survived marriage,
divorce, child-rearing, education, bankruptcy, and widowhood?
Author Website | Book Site | Facebook (Author) | Facebook (Book) | Twitter:
@charlottebabb |
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