There are a number of things in "The Second Chronicles" that leave me groaning for a better author. (There are also many things which please me inordinately.) I'll only mention two. 1) Structurally, part of "The Wounded Land" is a real mess. Between the time when Covenant and Linden part outside Andelain and the time when he rescues her from the Clave, I was simply not a good enough writer to devise a felicitous way of interweaving their separate tales without allowing those tales to undermine each other. This flaw may or may not be apparent to readers in general; but it is painfully obvious to me. 2) Discussing the GAP books, I've described my belief that the story contains one character who deserved a better author: Davies Hyland. I didn't fail him by, say, not giving him enough narrative attention. Instead I failed him by--I can't think of a better way to put this--not understanding him well enough. For some (no doubt deeply personal) reason, I wasn't able to "put myself in his shoes" as honestly or as completely as I did with other characters. Well, something similar happened in the last half of "White Gold Wielder". I simply didn't understand Linden well enough to write that part of the story. She needed a better author, and she didn't get one. (Again, this may or may not be apparent to readers in general--although it was clear to my agent. Still it's painfully obvious to me.) Meanwhile, thanks for mentioning the Joss Whedon site. I'm never going to watch a 40 minute movie on my computer; but I *am* something of a Whedon fan. "Buffy the Musical" (season six) was brilliant. (02/04/2009)

You've (almost) put your finger on what I consider to be *the* technological blunder in the GAP cycle. The specific relationship you cite between velocity and distance-crossed-through-the-gap makes intuitive sense to me. Why can't it be true that the faster you go the farther you jump? No, the *real* problem, at least as I see it, has to do with the sheer SCALE of the velocities I describe, especially in "Forbidden Knowledge". To a certain extent, I have trouble understanding general relativity (which would be effectively meaningless in any case at velocities less than, say, 0.1C): to a much larger extent, I--I'm fumbling for a description here--CAN'T DO THE MATH. I can't comprehend the forces involved in the accelerations I specified. I can't estimate the effects of those forces on living tissues. Well, I knew that about myself before "The Real Story" and "Forbidden Knowledge" ever saw a publisher. So I did what I always want to do in similar situations: I consulted an expert. In this case, an honest-to-spaceship Rocket Scientist, a design engineer for JPL. And he told me that I had nothing to worry about. Everything looked fine to him. Since I trusted him, I can hardly describe my horror when I learned--*after* "Forbidden Knowledge" was published, of course--that I had screwed up. Dramatically. In other words, IT'S NOT MY FAULT! But of course it *is* my fault (he admitted ruefully). I'm the author: there's no one else to blame. However, a close reading of the whole story will reveal that references to *specific* velocities are almost entirely absent from "A Dark and Hungry God Arises," and *are* entirely absent from the last two books. That was the only solution I could come up with for my peculiar problem. <sigh> Today seems to be my day for wallowing in my own flaws. (02/04/2009)

Well, I *do* have to reach back three decades.... Where the first "Covenant" trilogy is concerned, the "planning backward" notion applies in most situations. For example, I needed a final war to set up Covenant's confrontation with Lord Foul. I wanted that war to be as destructive (therefore as UNnatural) as possible. That led me to the misuse of Law, which suggested the misuse of the Staff. But of course Covenant couldn't get at Lord Foul without first facing the misuser of the Staff. And the misuser had to be a High Lord. Much better for the High Lord to be someone he knows: someone more than just a good-guy-turned-bad-guy. But not Mhoram, who didn't fit the role. Better for the High Lord to be someone with whom Covenant has a personal relationship. A very personal relationship. Who better than a daughter? But how was she turned into a bad guy? And where did she come from in the first place? You see what I mean. At any rate, that gives you a rough idea of how my planning process worked in those days. (02/04/2009)

This is going to be messy. I'm not sure I'm up to it.... But it looks to me like we're talking about two different things: censorship and--for lack of a better term--parental values. Where the former is concerned, I'm totally against it. No free society can long remain free once it begins to condone censorship. In any form. So it's probably worth mentioning that I don't consider, say, movie ratings to be censorship. Stupidly misapplied, yes: censorship, no. Seen in the best possible light, they represent an attempt by the film biz to help parents make informed decisions about what the parents let their children see. Less optimistically viewed, they represent an attempt to impose "approved societal norms" on individual families. Which is pure hypocrisy. But it's *not* censorship because--with occasional exceptions--it doesn't prevent parents from taking their children to see whatever the parents want. For example, I've seen parents take their 6- and 8-year-olds to see tortureporn like the "Saw" movies. Well, something similar already applies to books. It just isn't called "ratings". It's called "genres" (e.g. "children's books," "young adult"). It's called "categories". Or it's called "sections of the library". To the extent that movies are censored, so are books. We don't need more of, well, whatever it is. But "parental values" are an entirely different matter--and entirely personal to individual parents. Each parent has the responsibility to decide what he/she considers appropriate for his/her children, *regardless* of movie ratings or book categories. So do I think that parents in general should allow their adolescent children to read, say, the GAP books? I have no idea. I only know what *my* values are (and they include not imposing my values on other parents). Well, one of my values is that I don't believe in "forbidding" much of anything (except dangers like running out into the street <rueful smile>). Instead I used tools like discouragement ("You might not want to read that. I have, and you probably won't like it.") and involvement ("Let's watch that movie together when it comes out on VHS or DVD. That way, we can pause it whenever we want and talk about it."). And I simply kept anything that I wasn't already familiar with off the table (in a manner of speaking). The result? My children were exposed to a lot that violated "approved societal norms". They're mature beyond their years. And they didn't read the GAP books until they were in their 20s. In addition, they don't approve of censorship. I say, Mission accomplished. (02/11/2009)

I can't speak to the specific situation you encountered. It could be anything (e.g. remaindered books). But I can tell you this. Unless/until a book is remaindered, the author gets paid according to the cover price (which the publisher prints on the book). If the cover price is $29.95, and Amazon sells the book for $14.95, the author gets royalties on $29.95. Even if the publisher sells the book to Amazon for $3.95, the author gets royalties on $29.95. (Of course, publishers are always looking for ways to pay the author less, just as bookstores are always looking for ways to pay the publisher less. But it hasn't happened in my contracts yet.) But once a book is remaindered ("We can no longer sell this book at anything like its cover price, so we certainly aren't going to print any more. And we can use our warehouse space more effectively for newer or more profitable books. So let's unload what we still have of *this* book as fast as we can."), the author gets mere pennies of whatever the publisher gets, which is typically a very small fraction of the cover price. Once a hardcover of mine gets remaindered (mass market paperbacks don't get remaindered: they get pulped), I can usually buy it myself for less than 10% of the original price. Incidentally, I suspect that authors are being forced from their vocations because *publishing* is losing its viability, not because booksellers offer discounts. (02/11/2009)

*My* "sympathetic introspection" affects how I write about ALL of my characters. I think it makes them more real. Ideally, it also makes them more profound. But whether or not any of my *specific* characters engage in "sympathetic introspection" is really a function of personality and circumstance. Nick Succorso never engages in introspection, sympathetic or otherwise. Hashi Lebwohl always engages in introspection, and learns to do so sympathetically. Linden Avery--or Thomas Covenant--well, we'll have to see, won't we. "Can a hero be un-flawed?" Can a *person* be un-flawed? I think not. And a hero who isn't a person also isn't a hero: he (or she, or it) is an idea, or an archetype, or a figurehead, or a mouthpiece, or a symbol. Being a hero requires courage; and courage means overcoming fears; and fears imply flaws. Or so it seems to me. (02/11/2009)

Yes, I did know. It's unfortunate in the sense (and ONLY in the sense) that it makes the earlier "Covenant" books anachronistic. But that can't be helped. In one way or another, every book is the product of its time. Just look at the "Axbrewder/Fistoulari" novels. <sigh> (02/11/2009)

I do have two private readers, from whom I get feedback quasi-regularly (in effect, every three chapters). They're my anchor to the "real world" of actual communication. I can trust them to be respectfully honest in their comments, positive or negative ("respectfully" because the opinions of people who sneer at what I do have no value to me: "honest" because anything less wouldn't do me any good). All three of us know that this places them in an impossible position; but we all accept it. What I do NOT do is *talk* to my readers about what they're reading for me, either before they read it or after they finish (until they've read the whole book). As stringently as I can, I avoid the problem of "expectations". So I don't tell them anything about what they're about to read. And when they've read it, I don't explain anything that confuses them. I don't answer any questions about my intentions. Within the contraints of their position, I treat them like people who don't know me and therefore can't learn anything that isn't actually in the text. In other words, we don't ever *discuss* what they've read--until, as I say, they've read the whole book. I write: they read: they send me their comments: I read their comments: and I go on writing. "I go on writing" is probably worth emphasizing. When I get feedback, I don't double back to tackle the problems my readers have brought to my attention. I don't exactly *ignore* those problems; but I don't want to trap myself in premature revisions, thereby losing all forward momentum; so I just let the problems "steep" in the back of my mind until I'm ready to begin rewriting the whole book from the beginning. Do I need to add that I chose these two people very carefully? Or that I explained exactly how I wanted the process to work? Or that they accepted my--for lack of a better term--rules (respect, honesty, authorial silence) without reservation? And do I need to add that all of this is entirely personal? Every writer is different: therefore every writer has different needs. The only thing I can really say about *my* process is that it meets *my* needs. (02/18/2009)

In hindsight, of course, Berek's action does seem almost supremely perilous. But my characters lead linear lives: even when they hop around from age to age, their own lives preserve the ordinary sequences of time. So they can't make their decisions in hindsight. As with all of us, Berek can only be held responsible for doing something that made sense to him at the time. And at the time, what he did sure *looked* like it was worth the risk. Is Vain's purpose accomplished? What purpose do you imagine he could possibly have in his present state? The ur-viles (his creators), as I hope the story makes plain, are entirely another matter. (02/18/2009)

You've *got* to be kidding. Do you think I want to make my life in the GI even *more* challenging? (02/18/2009)

Absolutely not. (Have I discussed this before?) Covenant doesn't ever speak *for* me: *I* speak for him, as I do for all my foreground characters. He isn't *like* me. He isn't even like who I *want* to be (although he has taught me a lot). In one sense, all of my characters are my alter-egos (none more so than Mick "Brew" Axbrewder). But in another, much more useful, sense, I serve as *their* alter-egos. They can only see themselves "through a glass darkly": it's *my* job to see them clearly. Or, putting it in terms with which I'm more comfortable: it's my job to grant them the dignity toward which they can only struggle and flounder. (02/18/2009)

I'm painfully aware of the current US covers for the first "Covenant" trilogy. The fact that the ring depicted is *yellow* gold is a shameless attempt to cash in on "The Lord of the Rings" somehow, perhaps by tricking readers into thinking that my work resembles Tolkien's in some (presumably desirable) fashion. If this helps: Ballantine Books now knows that the ploy failed miserably. But if you think I have either the time or the brute *arrogance* to recast "the Written Word of God" in my own image, you are very much mistaken. I could argue that Scripture is an on-going process: it's being written every day. But that's beside the point. "Really, what else is there??" How about an entire universe? Or at least an entire planet full of people who think and believe differently than you do? (02/18/2009)

Every writer is different, as I keep saying. But facing your fears is pretty much always a "one day at a time" process. Those fears come from very deep places inside us, and they aren't relieved by one day of courage. Sometimes they aren't relieved by *decades* of consistent courage. And maybe they aren't *ever* relieved. Maybe that's an essential part of what makes us human. It may even be an essential part of what makes good stories worth reading. (02/19/2009)

SPOILER WARNING!

This question has been hidden since it is listed in the following categories:

Spoilers - Fatal Revenant

To view this post, click here.

You can choose to bypass this warning in the future, and always have spoilers visible, by changing your preferences in the Options screen.

[Posted for general information, since reference was made earlier to Dawkins, Potter, and Rowling. Did I have an axe to grind myself? Maybe. <grin>] But let me just say: "well-grounded enough in reality" is one thing; "understand that magic isn't real" is entirely another. That's why I try to keep an open mind about what constitutes "reality". (02/20/2009)

This story is explicitly archetypal. That's why so many of the characters are as much icons as individuals. (You might want to take a look at my essay, "Epic Fantasy and the Modern World," which you can download from this site.) To describe Anele as a leitmotif of Earthpower (or, more specifically, of blinded Earthpower) is apt. But be careful about assigning such identities. The longer a character stays in the story, and the larger the role that character plays, the more likely it becomes that the individual will begin to overshadow the icon/leitmotif. Or that the leitmotif will modulate to become a different theme. (I'm thinking of Liand here.) HOWEVER (I hasten to add), this is *not* how I plan stories. I don't (unlike most archetypalists) work from the general to the specific. Instead I imagine the specific and then search for the general within it. The part of my mind that handles concepts/archetypes often works beneath the surface of my conscious intentions. So sure, I started out thinking about a story that concerned Good vs Evil (or, more precisely, Human vs Evil). But developing a story that I could actually tell required me to concentrate my imagination and planning on specific characters in specific situations, not on thematic or iconic considerations. Long-time readers of the GI already know that "The Chronicles" didn't become "a story that I could actually tell" until I began thinking about Covenant as a concrete individual rather than as an icon/concept/leitmotif. (02/20/2009)

Artistically, as you observe, the word "genre" makes little or no sense. The issue isn't simply that "art is art". "Art" goes further. A necessary part of the definition of "art" is that each work under consideration is "sui generis" (forgive me if I've mis-remembered my Latin): each work is its *own* "genre" because it is uniquely itself; it could not have been created by anyone else; and it cannot be compared to anything else, except in an attempt to enhance understanding. Personally, I've always loathed the fact that my books are hidden away under various "genre" labels. But it's easy to understand why the notion of "genre" exists in general; and why publishers and booksellers (not to mention reviewers and critics) specifically rely on "genre" labels. Even within the general assertion that "art is art," broad distinctions are both possible and useful. They provide clues to the artist's intentions. Think of the clear differences between, say, "secular" and "religious" choral music. And in practical terms, "genre" provides, say, publishers and booksellers with useful clues to the tastes of readers. If every book is filed under "literature," readers with very specific tastes have great (perhaps insuperable) difficulty locating books they want to read. It's an obvious fact that some readers ONLY want to read sf, while other ONLY want to read romances. So naturally publishers and booksellers want to label books: to make *buying* easier for readers with very specific tastes. In addition, as I've mentioned elsewhere, "genre" serves as a kind of "rating system" for books, loosely comparable to the ratings supplied for films: a guide for parents who believe that books with, say, sex, or adult themes, or magic are inappropriate for their children. The problem with all this, of course, occurs when "genre" is transformed from a practical distinction to a value judgment, an indication (almost always pejorative) of worth/merit/artistic seriousness. Enter reviewers and critics, who delight in dismissing entire swaths of literature as "junk" simply because the books carry a genre label. Well, it isn't hard to understand why reviewers and critics act this way. They're drowning in books; and their job description pretty much requires them to pride themselves on their "discrimination". Nonetheless "discrimination" becomes indistinguishable from "brute prejudice" when it reflexively dismisses every book with a genre label. Have I put you to sleep yet? <rueful smile> (02/21/2009)

Has the Land's "reality" ever wavered in my imagination? Impossible to say. I don't think in those terms. The *urgency* of the story must have wavered in my mind to some extent, or I wouldn't have been able to write mumblemumble other books between "The Second Chronicles" and "The Last". But the urgency of the story and the reality of the story's setting are not at all the same thing. In any case, I think in words. Nothing (well, almost nothing) is ever "real" to me until I put it into words. Sorry: I never really read Chaucer (except for those small portions of "The Canterbury Tales" which were imposed on me at gunpoint, me being an English major and all); so it's highly unlikely that Chaucer influenced me on any level. (02/21/2009)

What can I say? Tastes change. Contemporary music is very different than it was 30 years ago. So are book covers. In addition, Sweet was remarkably open about his contempt for fantasy in general, and for my work in particular. Long ago, I heard him say that if he could earn living with ANY other kind of art, he would never touch fantasy again. I have no say at all where the covers of my books are concerned. (*I* certainly would not have put Gandalf on the cover of "Fatal Revenant".) Still, I'm glad to have an artist now who doesn't sneer at my work. (02/27/2009)

I know *of* those books, but I haven't read them. I'm a slow reader, and life is short. In any case, we all have to pick and choose. (02/27/2009)