*Who* has been "shouting about the number of books [I] have sold in Europe"? Not I. Who makes decisions about where and why authors do public appearances? Not I. Who believes that the policies and parochialism of US publishing companies (the "Dollar dictatorship") sheds any light at all on the personal beliefs and desires of individual authors? Not I. I can't say that I understand your disappointment. If William Shakespeare were doing a signing across the street from me right now, I probably wouldn't go. Wouldn't want to stand in line. And it's the work that interests me, not the person. But still: don't you think it might be a bit churlish to blame *me* for your disappointment? (03/06/2005)

If you don't want any of your personal information revealed in the postings on this site, please say so when you submit a question. I mean well, honest I do; but I can't pretend that I'll remember your specific request later on. (03/06/2005)

Please send details! I was totally unaware of this recording. My actual "permission" is irrelevant: the rights are held by Ballantine Books, not by me. This could be a significant (and very labor-intensive) case of copyright infringement. Or it could be fully authorized by Ballantine, who just didn't bother to let me know. (03/06/2005)

But you've already demonstrated more talent for parody than *I* have, so you're on your own. <grin? (03/06/2005)

That's been my experience with US book tours generally. I've never understood why my publishers want to spend the money on them. Almost without exception, they're poorly promoted and mechanical; and there is no media interest whatsoever. (The one consistent exception is Mysterious Galaxy in San Diego.) Things were very different back when I did my first US tour, for "The Wounded Land" in 1980. But compared to the other US tours I've done in the past 20+ years, the "Runes" tour was a huge success. When I was on the road for "The Man Who Fought Alone," I often found myself speaking to audiences of 2 or 3 people, and sometimes signed as many as 8 books. (03/06/2005)

Yes, I chose the name "Anele" consciously because of the word's meaning. And yes, the conclusions that might be drawn about Anele from the literal meaning of his name are also intentional. People are "anointed" (chosen) for many reasons, few of them kindly. (03/06/2005)

Sorry. I know essentially nothing about self-publishing--except that it seldom accomplishes anything except, perhaps, ego gratification. The biggest obstacles to "success" (as we usually understand the word) are money and distribution. But there are exceptions. Books like "The Literary Marketplace" and magazines intended for writers should offer more information. (03/06/2005)

I've just written an answer that contains everything I know about self-publishing; so I'll confine myself to your second question. Almost anything is "conceivable." And I certainly don't have a crystal ball. Nor do I intend to give up writing--or living--after I complete "The Last Chronicles." I simply have no idea what the future holds. HowEVer, my working hypothesis has been that no new concrete ideas have appeared on my "story shelf" for a number of years now *because* "The Last Chronicles" got tired of waiting for me to get around to it; so it blocked off the shelf to force me to pay attention. If this hypothesis is accurate, then writing "The Last Chronicles" should free up the shelf to hold new ideas. (03/06/2005)

Until my webmaster and I get around to creating a FAQ, I guess I'll keep answering this question. My contract allows me 36 months per book for "The Last Chronicles." I *hope* I won't need that much time; but I can promise nothing. "News," when there is any, appears promptly elsewhere on this site. (03/06/2005)

I think I can say with some confidence that the first "Covenant" trilogy was the least difficult for me to write. Why? Well, partly because I didn't know any better. <grin> Partly because there were absolutely no expectations (no publisher, no editor, no readers--and no reason to believe that such things would ever exist in my life). And partly because I had never written fantasy before, so I didn't know what my true talents were; and the sense of self-discovery as I got deeper and deeper into the story was enormously exciting. (03/06/2005)

SPOILER WARNING!

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

Spoilers - The Runes of the Earth

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.

Can I assume that Gabriel Wolfe played Sutekh? I remember the episode well (although I first saw it a number of years after writing "The Second Chronicles"), but I don't remember the voice; and I never knew who played any characters other than the Doctor and his companions. Oh, and the Master, of course. (03/06/2005)

No, the Haruchai did not re-enact their Vow. Nor have they done anything similar in "The Last Chronicles." They're just so ^#$%# stoical that they do all their sleeping off-stage. <grin> (03/06/2005)

Covenant definitely came first. In fact, as I think I've explained elsewhere, discovering the character of Covenant *enabled* me to discover the Land. In my storytelling, anyway, the "world" is pretty much always an extension of the characters. Linden was a far more difficult discovery, since both Covenant and the Land already existed. But eventually Covenant and the Land gave her to me. (03/06/2005)

For a writer like myself, there is a constant synergy between what I write and what I know about myself. Unfortunately--or fortunately, depending on your point of view--this isn't necessarily a conscious process. And those aspects of the process that *are* conscious are probably too personal to discuss in a public forum (and in any case they would take *hours* to explain). But I'll say this much. Sometimes my imagination--and my characters--seem to run pretty far ahead of me. I've spent a significant portion of my life playing catch-up. <rueful smile> As a result, much of what I know about life (especially as it pertains to personal integrity) I learned from writing these specific stories about these particular characters. On the other hand, I'm not exactly a "breakthrough" kind of guy. I do pretty much everything in life the same way I write: very slowly, in small increments, with lots and lots of revision. The difference is that I frequently experience epiphanies, sudden flashes of insight, in writing, but seldom in life. In life I generally grind it out the hard way. (03/09/2005)

Gosh, you know, I wrote those books a long time ago; and I no longer remember exactly what I had in mind. But the world of the GAP books is so advanced medically that I assume some kind of automated delivery system would be possible (the futuristic equivalent of the patch <grin>). Sorry I can't be more helpful. (03/09/2005)

Well, I would like to believe that--like Covenant--I no longer have "feet of clay." But I certainly see the parallels. Certainly my *career* has revealed its unreliable foundations with a vengeance. <grin> (03/09/2005)

SPOILER WARNING!

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

Spoilers - The Runes of the Earth

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.

I burned out on writing non-fiction in college and graduate school. Fiction is what I love: non-fiction is pure chore. (So, for example, I virtually never *read* any non-fiction.) When circumstances require non-fiction from me, I almost have to hold a gun to my head to make myself do it. I do believe that a certain mastery of writing non-fiction is an essential prerequisite to writing fiction. But (by my own standards, at any rate) I passed that point three decades ago, and I have no inclination to return to it. One consequence is that I'll never write an autobiography (despite the steadily diminishing number of requests <grin>). I chose the title while I was still in my teens--"Important People I Might Have Known If I Had Been Paying Attention"--but I'll never write the actual book. (03/09/2005)

Strangely, many people tell me that they think the Covenant "Chronicles" have more depth.... I think the technical complexity and the--I don't know what else to call it--the sheer nakedness of the character portrayals in the GAP books prevent many readers from looking beneath the surface. But, as I've said throughout this interview, I don't choose my stories: my stories choose me. So I have absolutely no idea when, if ever, I'm "going to do something that complex again." On the other hand, what I'm attempting in "The Last Chronicles" seems plenty ^#$%# complex to *me*. <grin> Certainly I feel that I'm pushing my "talent," whatever it may be, to its outermost limit. (03/09/2005)

Well, putting it crudely: the Law of Death prevents the dead from intruding on or affecting the living (manifesting as ghosts, visible spirits, etc.); the Law of Life prevents the dead from *becoming* the living (re-entering, re-animating, and re-ensouling their dead bodies so that they can literally pick up their lives where they left off). Together the two Laws preserve the necessary boundary between life and death; but they function sequentially. Still crudely: when you die, first your spirit leaves your body, then it leaves knowable reality. So in reverse, damaging the Law of Death allows your spirit to re-enter knowable reality, and then damaging the Law of Life allows your spirit to resume life in your natural body. Does that help? (03/09/2005)

Ergo Milton = Satan. Which explains why Satan is by far the most interesting character in "Paradise Lost." I *like* it. But the flaw in that reasoning (mine, not yours) is that Satan was ambitious for himself, whereas Milton was ambitious for his creation ("Paradise Lost"). I like to think that's an important distinction. (03/09/2005)

The International Conference for the Fantastic in the Arts is an academic conference (a totally different animal than an sf/f convention) where graduate students and professors from around the world deliver and hear academic papers on *many* subjects relating to, well, "the fantastic in the arts." A number of writers find this atmosphere congenial; and for those writers the conference schedules both readings and autographings. I'll be doing both. You didn't find me on the website because you didn't look under the conference schedule: my reading is listed there. The down side of the occasion, of course, is that you can't attend without a membership. (Which, as at an sf/f con, you can purchase when you get there.) The upside is that it is extremely relaxed, which means that opportunities for schmoozing are easy to come by. btw, I'm sorry it took me so long to supply this information. I'm over 240 questions behind on the GI. (03/13/2005)

I've written at some length much earlier in this interview about my father's (indirect) role in creating the character of Thomas Covenant. My father described the emotional dilemmas of suffering from leprosy with uncharacteristic eloquence; and he followed that by writing what was, in essence, a research paper that gave me all the practical information I needed. The entire "Covenant" saga would not exist without him. (03/13/2005)

I'm sorry. It is with some embarrassment that I'm forced to admit that I don't remember. I wrote that story nearly 30 years ago (it was in fact my very first published short story), and since then so many other stories have intervened that "The Lady in White" has become a blur. Even if I re-read it now, I'm not sure I could recall the process of its creation. (03/13/2005)

When I write, I am *never* conscious of trying to comment on ANYthing except the story itself. I don't write to expound my views on any subject: I write to tell stories; to see as deeply as I can into the hearts and actions of my characters, and to share what I see as effectively as I can. As a person, of course, I live in what we loosely call the "real world," and I naturally have opinions and concerns about that world. In addition, I'm a highly intuitive individual, and I pick up "feelings" about all kinds of things. And of course who I am as a person inevitably bleeds through into what I write. But I never never *never* have a message I want to convey. Instead I work very hard at discovering and communicating whatever seems to be inherent in the particular story I'm writing. If you see a clear connection between what I've written and, say, "the spirit of the times," or any other aspect of the "real world," that is an example of the mysterious synergy which enlivens the relationship between writing and reading (and even between writer and reader). Of course, I do *talk* about the themes in my stories. But that always happens in retrospect: I do it looking back on what I've written. Such thinking plays no role during my creative process. (03/13/2005)

SPOILER WARNING!

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

Spoilers - The Runes of the Earth

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.

The reason I know how many books (how much narrative space) a big idea will require is that I can "see" the general shape or structure of the story (e.g. what crucial events/turning points will be necessary to bring about the eventual climax). This "prescience," as you called it, usually (but not always) extends to the main structure within individual books (for example, I knew from the beginning that "The Second Chronicles" would fall into 8 sections or movements). But it never extends to the, well, micro-level of individual chapters. At that level, I feel my way along as I write. With one proviso: once I've established a pattern within a story (e.g. 12 chapters in Part I of "The Last Chronicles") I do try to preserve that pattern--for the sake of symmetry, if for no other reason. So: 12 chapters in Part I, 12 in Part II. Therefore it's quite likely that there will be 12 chapters in each section of "Fatal Revenant"--which, like "The Runes of the Earth," will be divided into two "parts." (The Prologue in "Runes" doesn't count because it is an introduction to the entire story: it does not pertain exclusively to "Runes".) I urgently hope--but cannot promise--that I'll be able to deliver "Fatal Revenant" (and each subsequent volume) early. But even if I do, the books may not be published early. "Runes" was prepared and published in an obscene hurry; and that will not happen again. So the time between submission of the manuscript and D&A (delivery and acceptance) of the final manuscript will be much longer than it was with "Runes," as will the time between D&A and publication. If "Fatal Revenant" is to have any chance at all of being published 36 months after "Runes," I need to actually write it in 18 months--and publisher demands burned up the first 6 of those months before I could even look at starting "Fatal Revenant." Then consider that from starting to first submission, "Runes" required 25 months. It's not a pretty picture. (03/13/2005)

I haven't yet been given publication dates for any of the paperback versions of "Runes." If I had any actual news, I would post it promptly in the "news" section of this site. But it's fair to expect that paperbacks will begin to appear 11-12 months after hardcover publication. (03/13/2005)

I don't know what you consider a "standard" response, but you're wrong about one thing. There is not only no guarantee that "Covenant" will be filmed; there is very little likelihood. Think of the odds against. And I don't mean the technical odds, which hardly exist anymore: I mean the odds of theme and character. Why try to compete with the success of LOTR by producing a dark fantasy about a leper/rapist when there are *mountains* of easy fantasy out there begging to be filmed? We'll see writers like Feist, Brooks, Goodkind, and Jordan filmed long before any studio seriously considers Donaldson--or even Moorcock. (03/13/2005)

S.P. Somtow once said (I hope I'm quoting him accurately), "Fantasy is the only valid form of theological inquiry." I wouldn't go quite that far myself. Certainly I think that "Fiction is the only valid form of spiritual inquiry." And I believe that fantasy, as a form of fiction, is particularly apt for the discussion of spiritual questions. The fact that fantasy writers pretty much by definition take "magic and monsters" seriously means that questing, introspective fantasy writers take the "numinous" seriously, the "more than mundane." For this latter sub-group of fantasy writers, quests (and all other forms of searching) actually *mean* something: they reflect, if you will, a hunger for integrity, purpose, and significance which cannot be satisfied by the mere mechanical details of living. So: when I say I'm not a religious person, I mean I don't adhere to--or even listen to--anyone or anything who thinks that he/she/it can tell me THE TRUTH ABOUT LIFE. On the other hand, I'm *very* interested in the efforts of my characters to discover and name their particular versions of THE TRUTH ABOUT LIFE. And I'm so interested, of course, because I'm trying to do the same thing they are. In my view, therefore, I'm a spiritual rather than a religious person; and I write stories about spiritual questions rather than about religious answers. To the extent that I "examine my own spiritual beliefs and/or conflicts through the telling" of my stories, I use my characters as, well, role-models for my own questing. I hope that doesn't make *too* much sense. <grin> I really don't want to be specific about this. (03/16/2005)

I find it somewhat embarrassing to admit that until Anele came along I didn't actually realize that eyelessness or blindness formed such a recurring (one might almost say incessant) theme in the "Covenant" books. And yet the pattern continues, as you'll discover (if you haven't already) in "The Last Chronicles." Well, I like to think that my sub-conscious has a very good reason for insisting on this particular metaphor. Certainly one of the main subjects of the "Covenant" books is how perception creates reality. For one example, the Land becomes effectively real for Covenant when he "sees" that it is important to him. And for another, the ur-viles and Waynhim stand outside the governing forms of Law in part because they literally *don't* "see". Conversely, Hile Troy doesn't "see" the danger implicit in his attitude toward power: his inability/failure to perceive accurately threatens the survival of the Land. And so on. (03/16/2005)

Actually, I believe I have--and I say this without practicing "due diligence" myself <grin>--discussed grieving over the death of a particular character earlier in this interview. (I refer specifically to the Tor in "A Man Rides Through.") As a general rule, my stories are so thoroughly planned in advance that I'm seldom surprised by "who lives and who dies". (But when I say that I'm not surprised, I don't mean to imply that I'm not moved. Actually writing the stories is a very experiential process for me, and I have strong emotional reactions, even when I've known what's coming for--sometimes--years.) Exceptions do occur, however. For example, the death of Norna Fasner was not part of my original intent--although it came to seem inevitable long before I actually wrote it. But I never kill off characters simply because I *want* to. For one thing, I never *want* to: I invest too much of myself in my characters to actively desire their demise (although simple pity inspired some relief when Norna was killed). And for another, I don't believe in doing, well, ANYthing gratuitously. If I'm not confident that what I'm doing is necessary to the design and logic of the story, I don't do it. (OK, OK, I often *do* do it--in the first draft. But then I undo it, or alter it in some other way, during my many stages of reconsideration.) Both as a person and as a writer, I need to be able to look back on what I've written and believe that it could not have been done effectively, meaningfully, correctly, in any other way. (03/16/2005)

SPOILER WARNING!

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

Spoilers - The Runes of the Earth

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.

Speaking very broadly, my main characters almost always have--or revolve around--an illness of some kind. Physical illness (leprosy, gap sickness) or mental/emotional illness (sociopathy, terminal narcissism, alcoholism). Obviously I find such things to be an extremely useful source of metaphors for various aspects of the human condition. But why do such things speak to me (I mean, to me specifically) as clearly as they do? I assume that the answer lies in some combination of: a) my father was a doctor of a kind that was highly valued where he worked (I often saw people kiss his feet in the street: very powerful stuff for a kid to witness); b) we lived in a community of doctors where a workaholic approach to healing was the norm; c) I was constantly exposed to the most appalling forms of human misery and degradation; and d) I've had MANY years of therapy, focusing primarily on PTSD, but ranging very widely. No, I'm not trying to evoke discomfort when I present a character like Jeremiah. I'm after empathy. However, I've often found that empathy is difficult to reach without first passing through discomfort. No one is comfortable with Covenant--at first. AbsoLUTEly no one is comfortable with Angus Thermopyle--at first (and many people never get beyond that stage). Morn Hyland elicits a lot of discomfort; Terisa Morgan, less. So I'm hoping my readers will be able to go straight to empathy with Jeremiah, but I don't necessarily *expect* that to happen. (03/17/2005)

I wish I could tell you that all of the "Chronicles" will eventually be released as audiobooks. But that is highly unlikely: they aren't popular enough. The release of "The Runes of the Earth" on CD was an experiment, and the early indications are that the experiment has failed (i.e. it lost money). So unless something changes dramatically (a successful "Covenant" film would suffice), even the rest of "The Last Chronicles" will probably not appear as audiobooks. Sorry about that. (03/17/2005)

I can't tell you how many books I signed--including store stock--during my tour(s) because I have no idea. (One store had 150 copies in stock; but 20 was a more common number.) However, for Putnams I signed nearly 7500 copies in advance; so there are (or were) quite a few autographed books out there. (03/17/2005)

1) Yes, the Linden-gets-pregnant-by-Covenant idea *did* pop into my head. Many years ago. But I dismissed it almost reflexively because it violates so many of the basic "rules" I've set up for "The Chronicles." 2) Yes, I've read four Eddison books, the "trilogy" you mention (Eddison left it unfinished) and a stand-alone called (memory, don't fail me now) "The Worm Ourobouros." The style didn't bother me at all: after all, I live on writers like Conrad, Meredith, Faulkner, and Scott. But I didn't like the stories: they seemed empty to me; empty of warmth, meaning, or even purpose. Now "Gormenghast," on the other hand.... I have reveled in those more than once (except for the third book, which in my opinion simply doesn't work). (03/17/2005)

SPOILER WARNING!

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

Spoilers - The Runes of the Earth

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.

I'm not a "pet" person. I'm more comfortable with cats than with dogs, but I prefer not to be involved with animals at all. I know, I know: it's a terrible flaw in my character. But people can't change when they don't want to change; so I'm stuck where I am. (03/17/2005)

<sigh> This is all so much more complicated than I ever wanted it to be. You make a number of perfectly valid points. And yet there are some insidiously misleading assumptions at work, many of which I've inadvertently fostered. In this interview and elsewhere, I've made a number of statements about my work which (apparently) justify your observations. But there are a couple of critical points here which tend to get lost in the discussion (I mean lost by me as well as by other people). 1) Every statement I've ever made that bears on the "content" of my work was made in retrospect; looking back on the work after it was done. In other words, it was made from my perspective as a reader, not from my perspective as the writer. 2) Every statement I've ever made that bears on the "content" of my work was made in response to a question. In other words, it was elicited from a perspective external to my own. Oh, and there may be a third critical point here as well: most of the statements I've made that bear on the "content" of my work were/are intended to apply to art/literature/fantasy in general rather than to my work in particular. In this context, yes, I really do think that my creative impulses can be explained in terms of pursuing an exciting story. And yes, OF COURSE, who I am as a person profoundly affects what I find exciting. And in addition, my training as a student of literature affects both what I find exciting and how I talk about that excitement. Nevertheless I must insist: I DO NOT HAVE A MESSAGE. Certainly not in the sense that "allegory" implies. I'm not trying to convince you of anything, teach you anything, demonstrate anything, or advocate for anything. My *message,* if I have one, is simply that good stories are worth reading. Why? Because, in my experience, they expand us. How? By engaging us in extremely specific individuals experiencing extremely specific dilemmas which we would not have encountered otherwise, but which (precisely because they are not us) can increase the range of what we're able to understand and (perhaps) empathize with. Polemics, by definition, is about generalization. Story-telling, by definition, is entirely consumed in specifics. So you could--if you were so inclined--say that my stance as a story-teller is one of "existential humanism." But that is not at all the same thing as saying that my stories are *about* existential humanism. My stories are not *about* anything except my characters and their emotions; their dilemmas and their responses to those dilemmas. The observations that we can make about a particular story, or about stories in general, after we have experienced them have the potential to be very educational: they can continue the process of expansion. But they also have the potential to be very misleading because they can confuse the observation with the experience. Apparently I've made that mistake more often than I realized. (03/18/2005)

I've discussed my favorite authors too often here to go into that again. But as to your other questions.... Your perspective on white gold is inherently valid, being yours. My own perspective, on the other hand, did not involve metaphors of addiction. I was interested in the white gold ring first and foremost as a symbol of marriage: i.e. of those commitments to each other which people make of their own free will (as opposed to, say, commitments which are imposed on us by our culture--e.g. patriotism--or by our nature--e.g. our commitments to our children). Second, I was interested in white gold because--like marriage--it is an alloy, a union of inherently disparate materials, therefore symbolic of the essential paradox which both challenges and vitalizes our voluntary commitments to each other. (It is, after all, a commonplace to observe that the very thing which makes a marriage worth having is the same thing which is most likely to make that marriage fail: it unites two *different* people.) Third, I was interested in white gold because--again, like marriage--as an alloy it is unnatural (and I hasten to insert that I don't mean this in a negative or critical way), therefore apt as an instrument for the destruction (or the preservation) of what *is* natural. To get a sense of my point, consider the number of lives that are immeasurably enriched by marriage--and the number of lives that are utterly destroyed by marriage. As to the Gap Cycle. All of my novels come arduously, so I often have trouble distinguishing between the specific difficulties of particular novels. In addition, the incessant shifting of POV in the Gap books was *so* difficult for me that it tends to blot out other difficulties. But the accuracy of your question is revealed in this: after writing the Gap Cycle, I needed *far* more "recovery time" than after any other of my big projects. I was so drained that I quickly sank into a profound depression (there were other causes at work as well) out of which I was unable to climb for over a year. Of course, abysmal sales contributed to that depression: I knew the Gap books were the best work I had ever done, but comparatively few readers cared. But the sheer emotional exhaustion of dealing with so much naked pain for so long was a major factor. (03/18/2005)

Unfortunately, I don't have the "clout" to have any effect on whether or not any of my books appear in e-formats. And, frankly, the sales of e-books are so miniscule that publishers generally don't care. But there *are* a few publishers who are thinking about the future of the industry (Tom Doherty at Tor Books is one, which is why so many Tor books are available from ereader.com), and those people want to position their books as favorably as possible for the changes that lie ahead. Well, my (now former) editor at Putnams was one of those people. Hence the e-version of "Runes." But the editors at DEL REY/Ballantine and Bantam are *not* among those people, so there is little chance that the first six "Covenant" books, "Mordant's Need," the Gap Cycle, or my short story collections will appear as e-books in the foreseeable future. (03/18/2005)

Thanks for the explanation! (03/18/2005)

Interesting that a number of readers of the GI have mentioned Primo Levi. I wish I weren't such a slow reader; but I'll get there eventually. At the moment, I'm feeling guilty about the dearth of John Crowley and James Morrow in my experience. (03/18/2005)

In one sense, it was very deliberate. I did *not* want my readers to sympathize with, or even feel sorry for, Covenant at first. Why? Because it's important to the story that Covenant might plausibly end up siding with the Despiser. I wanted him to *earn* the reader's respect--and his own. But in another sense, it was less deliberate. I always knew where the story was going; and so I always knew what Covenant would eventually achieve. For that reason, *I* always sympathized with him. And I hoped that my readers would see his potential for redemption even when he was at his worst. (03/19/2005)

This is another example of what I've been calling "open-ended plotting" on the part of the Elohim. Their true desire is that Linden should have and use Covenant's ring. They believe that because of her nature, her health-sense, and her commitment to healing, she could stop Lord Foul (and the Sunbane) without risking the Arch--and without bothering them. So they try to manipulate her into the position of, well, taking over for Covenant. But *just in case* that doesn't happen, they know they need to be prepared for other eventualities as well. For example, they're certainly aware that they might fail at imprisoning Vain. And if they *do* fail, an essential component of their manipulation collapses. So, very much like Lord Foul, they try to prepare for as many different scenarios as they can. If worst comes to worst, and Covenant retains his ring (and his purpose), Lord Foul and the Sunbane still have to be stopped. From their perspective, what actually happens in the story is the least desirable positive outcome. (03/19/2005)

I'm told that "Chaos and Order" and "This Day All Gods Die" are still in print. You should be able to get them from Amazon.com. If you can't, I'm in trouble. (03/19/2005)

Well, the Land survived for a very long time before Berek created the first Staff of Law. In the days before "The Second Chronicles" came to me to be written, I saw no reason why Mhoram and his descendants couldn't make do without a Staff of Law. And if they eventually recovered all of Kevin's Lore, they might conceivably undertake to create a new Staff of their own. In the first trilogy, clearly, the Staff had to be destroyed because it had fallen into evil hands. And its destruction opens the way for Mhoram and his descendants to continue defining a new way to serve the Land, a way that isn't hampered by the misapplication of the Oath of Peace (a point I've discussed at length earlier in this interview). (03/19/2005)

SPOILER WARNING!

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

Spoilers - The Runes of the Earth

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.

First we need to distinguish between Lord Foul himself and what he's able to do. You can't get rid of evil: that's a fact of life. Lord Foul is always going to be able to rejuvenate himself, Staff or no Staff. In his own way, he partakes of the same energy that enables all existence. But actions like turning the Council into the Clave and creating the Sunbane would not have been possible if the substance of Law had not been damaged by breaking the Law of Death as well as by destroying the Staff. So how did Law remain intact before Berek created the first Staff? By being what it is. It is the nature of Law (the defined processes which make life possible) to remain intact. I don't know how to explain this well. But I suspect that in all good fantasy there is an organic relationship between the instruments of power and the power that those instruments wield (for example, Sauron could not be killed as long as his ring existed). Law did not need the Staff in order to exist and preserve itself (just as Sauron existed long before he created the rings of power); but when Berek created the Staff as an instrument of Law he could only do so by making it an organic expression of Law. And when he did that, he brought about a situation which had not existed previously, a situation in which the Staff could not be "removed" without damaging Law (because of the organic relationship: you can graft branches onto certain kinds of plants, but once those grafts have taken hold you can't cut out the new branches without wounding the whole plant, even though the plant was fine before you did your grafting). As for Foul's reasons for messing with the Lords: why do you assume that they had no real power to release him from his prison? The very fact that Berek created the Staff (an organic instrument vulnerable to destruction) shows that the Lords were (inadvertently) helping to create the conditions necessary to Foul's release: they were (unintentionally) devising ways by which Law would be made vulnerable to damage. In addition, I see no reason to assume that Foul *knew* the Arch of Time would survive the Ritual of Desecration: he may very well have been hoping that such a draconian violation of Law would be enough to spring him free. Remember, he, too, is learning as he goes. Does that help? (03/19/2005)

You consider things like cats destroying entire manuscripts and computers deleting significant amounts of work "funny"? Oh, dear. I consider such tragedies the stuff of madness and suicide. Which is why I keep at least half a dozen back-ups in almost that many different locations. <sigh> But I spent over a month on an author tour for "The Wounded Land" back in 1980; and during that time I was working hard on revising "The One Tree"--paper and pencil, of course. So naturally on a flight from San Francisco to L.A. Braniff lost my suitcase. Sent it to Bogota, along with my manuscript and all my revisions. (Not, I hasten to say, the only copy of the manuscript. But it was the only copy of my revisions.) Six weeks later, the suitcase found its way home. Intact: only my electric razor was missing. But by then I had already redone all of the missing work. After all these years, I still don't call that "funny." But it wasn't as cruel has having to write again from memory a chapter deleted by a computer crash. As for writing an entire book over again from scratch: I don't think I could do it. The loss would probably kill me. (03/19/2005)

I'm sorry to have to say this (sorry because, first, I don't like fobbing people off, and second, I'm so far behind in the GI that you've already been waiting long enough), but both of your questions fall into the RAFO category. I'm simply not willing to "tip my hand." (03/20/2005)

I've actually discussed this in some detail earlier (perhaps *much* earlier) in the GI. The short answer: the first two "Covennat" trilogies were meticulously plotted before I started writing them, and their respective stories did not change at all between start and finish. But since then my methods have, well, evolved (I prefer to believe that they have not devolved <grin>). My stories still do not change from start to finish; but now they do a fair amount of modulation *between* start and finish. So they remain, well, fixed on a "macro" level; but on a "micro" level I do more discovery and adjustment than I did 20+ years ago. (03/20/2005)

Thank you. I wish I could supply a useful answer to your first question. (I'm reminded of a famous story about Robert Browning. Keeping it short: he was asked what something in one of his poems meant, and he replied, "When I wrote that, only God and I knew what it meant. Now only God knows.") The story has moved so far from those particular issues (seer/oracle) that I haven't thought about them clearly in a long time. So take what I'm about to say with a certain amount of salt. A "seer" is someone who can see/feel/intuit some aspects of the future--or of the possible futures. (I'm sometimes asked questions like: why didn't Mhoram know Covenant was coming to Revelstone? Well, a seer doesn't see "the future" that literally. A seer is more likely to feel that important events are gathering and something pivotal is about to happen; or, we're in a situation that's more dangerous than it appears to be, and we need to be extra careful.) An "oracle," on the other hand, is not concerned with "the future" per se. Rather an oracle sees/feels/intuits things like fate, doom, or destiny (of an individual; of a people; of a world). In some sense this naturally involves "the future," but the oracle's focus is on the inherent nature of the individual/people/world, and on the likely consequences of that nature. So in general--and putting it very crudely--seers tend to be vague, while oracles tend to be cryptic. <rueful smile> Helpful, no? I don't think there's anything in the text that says only Berek *could* be both a seer and an oracle. Rather it says only Berek *was* both. As to your second question: your interpretation of Hile Troy is certainly plausible and defensible. I was thinking in somewhat different terms myself, but that doesn't weaken your position. I saw Hile Troy as, well, the hero the reader wants Covenant to be: full of commitment, free of doubt, automatically willing to take any risk and use any power for the sake of the Land (indeed, a veritable Conan in that regard). Hile Troy is (among several other things) one of my attempts to explain why only someone like Covenant has the capacity to actually save the world. (03/21/2005)

The Clave's preservation of "the ancient relics" is another example of what I've been calling "open-ended plotting" by Lord Foul. Sure, by destroying the relics Foul could effectively prevent several possible futures. But some of those possible futures lead to his release from Time. The obvious example is the iron heels of Berek's Staff. If those heels no longer exist, a whole cascade of implications follows, most of which do *not* lead Covenant and Linden to the One Tree, and which therefore do not include the possibility that Covenant and Linden might rouse the Worm. That possibility is precious to Lord Foul. And there's no gain without risk. In order to gain what he desires, he always has to risk failure. Just like the rest of us. I've had several occasions to mention that I was raised by fundamentalist Christian missionaries. That stuff is so deeply engrained in me that I can hardly get out of bed in the morning without a Christian reference of some kind. <grin> (03/21/2005)

I probably don't thank the readers of this interview often enough for their graciousness and praise. But I *do* appreciate it greatly. Yes, I deliberately made Covenant both an Everyman and an Outcast. These are very familiar paradigms: they recur throughout literature (Western literature, in any case). But they recur so often because they're so apt and useful. And they certainly fit the explicitly archetypal elements of "The Chronicles." As I've said before, I'm simply not willing to comment on what may or may not happen in the next three books of "The Last Chronicles." I deliberately left out one of the Seven Words (and several of the Seven Wards) from the first trilogy. In that way, as in many others, I'm trying to suggest just how much has been lost through the interaction between human despair/carelessness/poor judgment and Lord Foul's destructive desires. Indeed, the entire known history of the Land as it's presented throughout the "Chronicles" is an on-going process of loss. This seems to me inevitable as long as there is no "final solution" to the dilemma of evil. (03/21/2005)

Actually, I've experienced the reverse more often. When I'm "in public" (e.g. on a book tour) people seldom give me the impression that they've mistaken me for my characters. Instead I find that people who know me, in a sense, "privately" are often unable to take my work seriously. The so-called "real" Steve doesn't seem to mesh well with what they find in my books; so they dismiss my books. Or, knowing me, they are unwilling to read my work at all. Sad but true. (And you wondered why I keep my private life so private.... <grin>) Incidentally, you can measure my progress on "Fatal Revenant" with considerable accuracy by charting the inverse proportion of my progress on the Gradual Interview. Assign me an unspecified number of words per week (x), subtract the number of words I've contributed to the GI (y), and the result is z: the number of words I've contributed to "Fatal Revenant." If you like trying to solve single equations containing two unknowns <grin>. (03/23/2005)

<sigh> I'm tempted to say--in the nicest possible way, of course--Get a life! But that isn't what I really mean. What I really mean is, Oops! But here's the explanation I would have provided, if I had remembered to do so: in "The Power that Preserves," the gates were broken inward; the rubble therefore obstructed the passage under the watchtower; so of course Mhoram at al would have had little choice except to clear it away. As for "cameos" by the Dead, all I can say is (you guessed it) RAFO. (03/23/2005)

As I've had occasion to mention before, I write for readers who are, in essence, Just Like Me. That is to say, readers who share my love of language, my passionate nature, my ready empathy, my willingness to suspend disbelief, and my tolerance for paradox (to an unsympathetic reader, "paradox" is just another name for "self-contradiction"). For that reason, among several others, I certainly do not write to be read by middle school children. Indeed, the very idea frightens me. And yet I'm confronted over and over again by the (very) humbling fact that many of my most devoted readers first discovered my work as teenagers--and often as early teenagers. Go figure *that* out. My only explanation is that I actually do know how to tell a good story; and that children are often especially willing to suspend disbelief. (03/23/2005)

SPOILER WARNING!

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

Spoilers - The Runes of the Earth

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.

This is an impossible question. Such stereotypical characters don't "fit within fiction in general" at all: they only fit within specific stories told by specific writers for specific reasons. I like to say that there are no bad ideas: there are only bad writers. (It follows, of course, there are also no *good* ideas: there are only good writers.) As far as I'm concerned, there's no inherent reason why a writer who knows what he/she is doing can't get valuable "mileage" out of stereotypical characters. Or stereotypical settings, situations, whatever. The important question--again, as far as I'm concerned--is, Does the specific writer really know what he/she is doing? (03/23/2005)

1) I read reviews as little as humanly possible. They aren't good for me. And they aren't intended to be: reviews exist for the benefit of potential readers, not for the edification of published writers. A review that was written for the writer's benefit would be useless to a potential reader. 2) There is no question that I *have* been influenced by the GI--but not in the way(s) you describe. As a narrative artist, I face an incessant dilemma which (I believe) plagues all artists in one form or another: I suffer from a natural and understandable (and perhaps inevitable) impulse to *leave out* anything that seems perfectly obvious to me. At the same time, I expound endlessly on anything that I find obscure or difficult. But guess what? The things that are obvious to me are seldom obvious to the reader. At the same time, readers are quicker on the up-take than I am (because they read so much more quickly than I write). So: the GI has been particularly good at helping me catch those passages where I have left out the "obvious." To a lesser extent, the GI helps me recognize instances of excessive explanation. When it is complete, "The Last Chronicles" will be a, well, more stable edifice because of the GI. Of course, editors are supposed to do this job. But these days what editor has the time? 3) Very seldom. But it does happen. I just can't think of an example at the moment (apart from the fact that Anele is Elena spelled backward <grin>). (03/23/2005)

I've spent some time earlier--perhaps much earlier--in the GI discussing language. As I tell everyone, I "see" with language. For me, at least, words--and combinations of words--are the primary source of thought, imagination, and emotion. One quick example: I sat dry-eyed through "Schindler's List" while my friends wept copiously--until I reached the place where Schindler was finally free to *talk* about what he felt, at which point the whole film came into focus for me, and I fell apart. The earlier visuals, horrific as they were, simply were not *articulate* enough to reach me deeply without the support of language. So a) I probably wouldn't write at all if language and its uses didn't seem as necessary as breathing to me. In some sense, I *live* through language. And b) in my case I can not distinguish between the story I'm trying to tell and the language through which I'm trying to tell it. Covenant and Linden, Terisa and Geraden, Angus and Morn and Nick: none of them exist apart from the language with which I articulate them. And I find that the same is true in most (if not absolutely all) of the books and writers I most admire. For example, Patricia McKillip's language is inherent to her stories: those stories could not be told in any other words. Donna Tartt's "The Secret History" would be completely empty without its specific language. And even with apparently more "functional," certainly less "poetic," writers like Steven Erikson and Tim Powers, I can't make a useful distinction between what they have to say and how they choose to say it. (03/30/2005)

Thanks for this information! Lester del Rey used to say that there were only three basic plots, person vs environment, person vs person, and person vs self; and that the best stories contained all three simultaneously. To me, this seems more useful than the notorious List Of Seven. I could argue, for example, that 1, 3, 4, 5, and 7 above are all the same. Or I could argue that 5 and 7 are variations on 6. The point, I imagine, is that good stories tackle as much as they can contain--or possibly a little more, since "A man's reach should exceed his grasp." (03/30/2005)

Actually, I thought I *did* do a story about Mardik and Festil. <grin> But of course you meant a further story. Sorry, the answer is no. I lack even the merest ghost of an idea that would do more with Mardik and Festil. (03/30/2005)

There is no question that the friendly technology of word processing encourages me to do more rewriting than ever before. But the primary result is that my first drafts now have more superficial polish than they once did. I've never, well, thought in the way you describe. I mean that I've never actually been afraid of "work". If a particular scene needed another Bloodguard, then I put in another Bloodguard. More retyping? So what? (Proofreading is a different kind of problem: I *do* get fed up with it.) In addition, working at the typewriter suited who I was at the time. And there are advantages to all that retyping. Among other benefits, it helps preserve internal consistency (because you keep going over and over the same material letter by letter). Still, I wouldn't go back. The time I save by using a word processor is too precious. My "deep, biting wit," which I prefer to think of as a highly developed sense of irony, comes naturally to me. But it's based on many years of training and experience. I've spent most of my life learning how to conceal myself in various subtle ways; and irony is a particularly useful method. Of course, I *do* actually have a sense of humor as well. <grin> (03/30/2005)