Do you mean Min Donner? Koina Hannish? Sorus Chatelaine, perhaps? The First of the Search? King Joyse's wife and daughters? From my perspective, I don't write about "broken" females, I write about "broken" people. (12/03/2005)

Yes, the "rescuer" in "By Any Other Name" is Reave (from "Reave the Just"). That's one of the several implications of the title. It isn't just my "heroes" who "endure such beatings". It's also the people they rescue--and half the supporting cast as well. By and large, Donaldson characters get beat up a lot. Gee (I want to say), *my* life is hard. I get beat up all the time. Why shouldn't the same thing happen to my characters? But that retort is only half serious. A more serious answer is: easy victories don't mean anything. Triumph over evil (or pain, or fear, or any other obstacle) is only easy when the evil (or pain or fear etc.) is trivial. Why would I want to waste your time telling stories that are trivial? (12/03/2005)

This bears repeating. The Library of Congress "Books On Tape" program has several Donaldson titles. And then there's www.audible.com. Other sources may exist as well. But as far as I know, no one has ever tackled producing the Donaldson "canon" comprehensively in an audible format. I consider that unfortunate; but it isn't under my control. (12/03/2005)

<sigh> Things that seem so simple to me are often difficult to explain. Nonetheless I press on. <rueful smile> 1) Two points. a) Who in the first trilogy--apart from the bad guys--would even *want* to possess anyone else? Health-sense-wise, everyone is pretty much on an equal footing. And "reverence for life" sort of defines the prevailing ethos. b) There are issues of *degree*. In the second trilogy, everyone else has little or no health-sense: Linden has too much (certainly more than she can handle; arguably more than anyone else has ever had, since she was a skilled physician to begin with). And in a very real sense, "mind" cannot be distinguished from "body". The brain is everywhere: its neurons unify the entire organism. So an ability to see into and influence the state of the body is by definition an ability to see into and influence the state of the mind. Linden's ability to possess is only different *in degree* from "ordinary" health-sense as it is understood in the first trilogy. (Of course, we all know that "differences in degree become differences in kind." [Marx] But Linden herself is different "in kind" than the natural inhabitants of the Land.) 2) Your interpretations--being yours--are inherently just as valid as mine. But I do think about, say, the Ravers in very different terms. Trying to compress some large concepts into a very short space: much of the power of fantasy as a form of communication arises from the fact that it permits, enables, and even encourages exaggeration and personification. (Hence the disdain that the "literary establishment" feels toward fantasy.) William James has some interesting things to say about this. In fantasy, storytellers can explore the arational aspects of being human through arealistic means (magic, monsters, archetypal evil, whatever). So you might think of the Ravers this way: take a blind, kllling (and ultimately terror-based) emotion like "road rage"; remove the many complexities of the individual who feels the rage; transpose that distilled emotion back to a pre-medieval, or even pre-barbarian, form of reality; and then personify it (give it form and identity as if it were a definable person). Hey, presto: Ravers. They don't want to "own" anything: they want to destroy everything that they hate (which--although they would deny it--just happens to be everything that they fear). They "take possession" because (being nothing more than distilled emotions) that's the only method by which they can carry out their desires. Does this help? (12/07/2005)

First, I don't object at all to "songs based on stories in The Chronicles." I'm flattered. Carry on with my blessing. Second, I never even heard of Jackie Chan or Jet Li until at least 15 years after I finished "The Second Chronicles." Historically, we would have to say that Chan and Li are based on the Haruchai, rather than the other way around. <huge grin> (12/07/2005)

There are several scenarios. 1) An aspiring writer sends me a manuscript. I always return it unread because it is just *rude* to intrude on my life and time in that way. 2) An aspiring writer asks permission to send me a manuscript. I always say no because I (as perhaps any writer is) am the wrong person for the job. I have too many opinions about how books *should* be written, and those opinions are too passionately held, to be of any use to an aspiring writer. Crudely put, writers need readers, not other writers--and writers are seldom useful readers. 3) An editor sends me a manuscript about to be published. (No, they never ask permission. But they also don't take it personally if I just throw the manuscript away.) If the writer was not known to me, in the old days I would read the manuscript if I respected the editor. Now I don't have the time. However, if the writer was/is known to me, I'll make a special effort, either because the writer is a friend, or because I know the writer's work is good, or both. This isn't a direct answer to your question, but I hope it tells you what you want to know. Is it flattering to receive requests (of any kind) from aspiring writers? Sometimes yes: usually no. The truest thing I know about becoming a writer--and I knew this without anyone telling me--is that each individual has to figure it out for him/herself. All of the very best lessons that I've learned about writing came from a) readers, not writers, and b) studying other people's writing. Asking an admired writer for help is like trying to take a shortcut on a road that permits no shortcuts. (12/10/2005)

Forgive my ignorance. I've never even *heard* of "anthroposophy" or Rudolph Steiner. I could actually say quite a bit about this, mostly having to do with my belief that fiction (storytelling) is a richer source of ideas and understanding than any non-fiction. But that's just my opinion. And sometimes ignorance is just ignorance. (12/10/2005)

Although I see serious flaws in both "Covenant" trilogies (perhaps a bit less in "Lord Foul's Bane" than elsewhere), I wouldn't accept an opportunity to go back and revise if I were offered one. (Except in the small, infuriating case of the end of the Prologue of "The Wounded Land", where I would *love* to rearrange Jeremiah's position among his siblings. <grin>) Several reasons. 1) The quest for "perfection" (however defined) isn't just impossible: it's downright self-destructive. We're human; therefore fallible. We can't be truly creative unless we accept our propensity to screw up. 2) I am no longer the man I was when I wrote my earlier books. Whatever else we might say about that younger individual, his work had its own unique integrity. I could not impose my present values, desires, skills, or instincts on my earlier work without violating that integrity in some form. (Look at how Henry James crippled his own books by rewriting them later in life.) 3) The "flaws" I now see in the first and second trilogies are too global--or perhaps merely too structural (or, in the case of "White Gold Wielder", too personal)--to be repaired by anything less than complete reconsideration. I'm better at story-design now than I was then; and I understand my characters better. If I were willing to spend my life writing the same books over and over again, "The Illearth War," "The Power that Preserves," "The Wounded Land," and "White Gold Wielder" would be quite different than they are now. But what would be the point? They still wouldn't be "perfect"--and I would have wasted much of my life. In short, I don't aspire to "perfection." I aspire to "the absolute best that I'm capable of today." (12/14/2005)

Whether or not my chosen technique (in this case, names like "the Land," "the Earth," "the One Forest," etc.) succeeded in its purpose, my intent was to convey the numinous simplicity with which the inhabitants of the Land once viewed (and revered) their world. It's analogous to the way in which a loving father might call his son "Son" rather than "[Proper Name]", not to diminish his son's distinctive individuality, but rather to emphasize how much he values his relationship with his son. Thus: "Thou art my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased." Or think of Indian tribe that consider themselves simply "the People." The entire ethos of the Land's people--Stonedownors, Woodhevennin, Lords--revolves around cherishing their world both directly and spiritually. So why, I asked myself, would such people use anything other than the simplest of nouns for their most fundamental relationships? And how would the comprehension of the reader be enhanced if I devised unfamiliar names instead of using obvious nouns? (Just as a side-note: people tend to give their "lands" names when they are clearly aware that *other* "lands" exist. In those cases, names are needed to identify and distinguish. The people of the Land have--for good reason, I think--a comparatively hermetic world-view.) (12/14/2005)

I've explained the delay between the "Second" and "Last Chronicles" several times, often on this site. I won't repeat myself. But the issue of "not starting a story until [I] know how it ends" isn't a "covenant" I've made with myself: it's a requirement imposed by my imagination, my style of creative thought. I simply *can't* start a story until I know exactly where I'm going. Storytelling involves making an enormously complex--and seemingly endless--series of decisions; and I have to have some basis on which to reach those decisions. Other writers make their decisions by different methods, some more intuitive, some less. My method is--in a manner of speaking--imposed on me by who I am. Without it, I would find storytelling impossible. (12/14/2005)

As far as I know, I came up with "ur-viles" all on my own. (Which wasn't hard. As an English major, I was familiar with the "ur-" concept. And C. S. Lewis set a precedent for Viles by writing about--if memory serves--Hags and Cruels.) I've never heard of--and certainly never played--a computer game called "Rogue". Considering my background, it's a bit peculiar that I have in some sense misused the "ur-". Among English majors--at least of my generation--"ur-" denotes "original," but it connotes "hypothetical." It refers to an original which we believe to exist, but which we do not possess. I twisted that quite a bit with "ur-viles" and "ur-Lord," trying to suggest an artificial and possibly corrupt relationship. (12/14/2005)

I'm sorry. I don't know your future. I don't even know mine. And I certainly don't know what's going to happen to the world we live in. But two comments. 1) If the "end of time" occurs before I finish publishing "The Last Chronicles," I doubt that either of us will be in a position to care. 2) It's curious to note that the Mayan "end of time" may indeed coincide with the "end of time" in the Land. <shameless grin> (12/21/2005)

I've answered this before--although I admit that the GI has now become unwieldy beyond belief, so I can't really complain about the fact that questions are repeated occasionally. The short answer is: I make it all up. I don't base people, places, or situations on anything that I've consciously experienced. (Unconscious experience is entirely another matter, of course; but it's a complete mystery to me, so I can't explain it.) In fact, I can hardly write at all if I don't have the sensation that I'm making it all up. (12/21/2005)

<sigh> There's a trouble-maker in every crowd.... I don't try "to fuse Eastern Mysticism with the Western Religious traditions" because I don't hold with either of them. I just glean nuggets wherever I can; and the result is an undifferentiated mish-mash with which I'm quite comfortable. Do I believe in "real magick"? I can't answer that until you define "real" and "magick". (This is *your* question. I'm not going to do all the work for you. <grin>) But I'll tell you this: I never have to look very far to find evidence of transcendence. (12/21/2005)

EBay? Somebody? I want one myself. <grin> (12/21/2005)

I can honestly say, No. In fact, No, no, a thousand times no! That would be an absolute violation of the integrity of the stories I'm trying to tell. In fact, just trying to think about your question makes my skin crawl. (Don't take that personally. It's a description of how my mind works, not a criticism of your question.) (12/21/2005)

If Tolkien had completed "The Silmarillion," I probably would have read it with more pleasure (which isn't much, considering how little I enjoyed the book we have). But it wouldn't change my views on prequels. As a story, "The Silmarillion" has (this is just my opinion) several fundamental flaws. I'll mention two. 1) Even "complete," it is *inherently* fragmented: in essence, it contains a number of interwoven short stories which do not (indeed, can not) accumulate to form a satisfying novel. I don't enjoy such things much, even when they're well done. 2) It concentrates on (this really is just my opinion) what I consider to be the least interesting inhabitants of Tolkien's world, the Elves, who are simply too static to hold my attention. Show me an artistically complete "Silmarillion" and I'll probably read it. But I won't write a prequel. (12/23/2005)

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This may indeed contain spoilers for people who haven't read "The Man Who Fought Alone". Look at it this way: how would it serve Sternway's purpose(s) to leave behind a body which was obviously killed with someone's bare hands? That immediately reduces the list of suspects. Whereas virtually ANYone can kill a person using a flik to the throat.... Sternway is nothing if not cold and calculating, and he wants to cast suspicion elsewhere (e.g. to frame Hardshorn). That said, I'm very glad that you enjoyed the book enough to ask questions about it--and to be interested in its obviously-necessary sequel. (12/24/2005)

In order: Hmm. This is a highly hypothetical question. I'm not entirely sure how it would work. At present, the Donaldson Collection is "on loan" to the KSU Libraries. This presumably means that an obsessive person with pots of money and loads of free time would need permission from both me and KSU. And I don't know whether or not I would give permission. I'm torn between "Where's the harm?" and "Why would I want my out-takes, screwups, etc. made generally available?" Simpler for everyone to wait until I'm dead. <grin> At that point, the "loan" will become a "gift"; KSU will own the collection; and our hypothetical OCD person will only need KSU's permission. And KSU would probably give (supervised) permission for the sake of (legitimate) self-promotion. Why do I do the GI? It seemed like a good idea at the time. <rueful smile> The only reason I have a web site in the first place is that my publisher insisted. I thought it was a bad idea; a waste of everyone's time. But I acceded because I want to keep my publisher happy. In that spirit, when my webmaster first proposed the idea of a "gradual interview," it was intended to simply encourage interest in "The Last Chronicles." I did *not* anticipate the sheer scale of the response--or the amount of work that I had inadvertently agreed to do. <sigh> However. Since then, the GI has taken on an entirely unexpected life of its own. And the amount of work I have to do is balanced by the rewards I get (which I've discussed elsewhere). I suspect the primary reason more writers don't do something similar is that they feel--as I once did--that no one would really care. I don't give updates on "Fatal Revenant" because I don't want to turn that process into a tease. When I have something substantial to report, I'll post "news" on this site. Until then, I won't toy with you by saying things like, The first draft is already longer than "Runes". <malicious grin> (12/24/2005)

I've already written a lot about my original "inspiration" for the GAP books. But the Amnion in particular.... Well, there are shape-shifters in Wagner's RING cycle (one of the powers of the magic ring is shape-shifting). There are shape-shifters throughout much of modern fantasy (Patricia A. McKillip's work is only one of many examples). And I've always thought that the whole idea is scarier than it is generally presented as being. So all I did was extend the basic concept into imposed, involuntary, and irreversible shape-shifting. The idea that *I* might be transformed into a manifestation or servant of something I abhor certainly gives *me* nightmares. (12/24/2005)

I don't have a crystal ball. And if I had one, I hope I would be wise enough not to use it. But at present I simply cannot imagine writing anything set in the same world beyond "The Last Chronicles." Put crudely, it ain't called "The *Last* Chronicles" for nuttin'. "Success"--or the lack of it--has nothing to do with how I decide what to write. (12/25/2005)

You may not be surprised to hear that this reminds me of a joke. How many surrealists does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Two. One to set the giraffe on fire, and one to fill the bathtub with multicolored power tools. (12/25/2005)

Taking your questions in reverse order (because I find scrolling easier that way): It’s highly unlikely that I’ll ever post the kind of “before and after” excerpts you describe. I find it embarrassing to let people see work which is less than the best I can do. (Which is actually rather silly of me; but there it is.) Plus there are serious contractual issues involved. My publishers have paid for “first publication rights,” which means I would need their permission to post anything; which in turn means I would have to let them *see* the material first--and they wouldn’t be able to make an informed decision without reading the whole book, so after finishing the first draft I would have to let them read it *before* I did any revisions; and trust me when I say that if I did that really bad things could happen. (So why, you ask, do I do readings at all? Because most people don’t have phonographic memories, and meanwhile I sometimes learn a lot by hearing my prose out loud. And why do my publishers permit readings? In context, readings are considered good (i.e. free) advertising.) I am not capable of writing now as I did 25+ years ago; and 25+ years ago I was not capable of writing as I do now. The changes during that time were probably inevitable, given my personality, experiences, aspirations, and abilities. Of course, different writers follow different trajectories. But my increasing absorption in the details that make my characters “real”, like my increasing ability to trust my story-design instincts, seems to be the natural result of who I am and how I’ve lived. I couldn’t even begin to speculate about Stephen King’s creative process--and if I could, I wouldn’t. But I will say this: there are no new ideas; there are only new writers. In that sense, it doesn’t matter what a writer’s ideas *are*: it only matters what that writer *does* with his/her ideas. And what Stephen King does with his ideas is always uniquely his own. Acrophobia. I have a mild form myself. I’ve had truckloads of treatment, both “on the couch” and “in life”. And after 30+ years I’m happy to report some improvement in my ability to manage my fear. But Covenant never had my advantages. And *his* acrophobia, unlike mine, is a metaphor: like his leprosy, it represents an attempt by the author to communicate something larger than the literal. <sigh> Yes, the stump you mention probably *is* where Berek got the wood for the original Staff of Law. And no, I’m not going to tell you how he did it without rousing the Worm. Some things are better left unexplained. Others are too easily inferred to be improved by explanation. (12/31/2005)

Well, personally I’d rather see Wesley Snipes as Brinn--or even Stave. But playing any Haruchai would severely restrict his *flair*. With the right “effects,” he might make a good Saltheart Foamfollower. As would Morgan Freeman. Delroy Lindo as Lord Mhoram? Ving Rhames as Grimmand Honninscrave? Halle Berry as Linden? Why not? But I can’t see--or, more appropriately, hear--any of them as Covenant. Who could shout out “Hellfire and bloody damnation!” with just the right blend of vehemence and shame? (12/31/2005)

1) “Gilden-Fire” is an out-take, rescued from my wastebasket by an improbable sequence of events which I regularly wish had never happened. Nothing in it remains “true” in my mind--except perhaps the personalities of the Lords--unless that information is confirmed by some passage in the “authorized” text (e.g. leadership by combat). 2) If I can remember that far back…. <sigh> The “command titles” in the first Covenant trilogy are analogous to “rank” in the Warward: they express the role of the Bloodguard as part of the physical forces wielded by the Council of Lords. They existed because human armies require a clearly defined chain of command. So when the Vow was broken, the command titles ceased to have any meaning. They were never intended to express an inherent aspect of Haruchai society. Hence their absence from all of the subsequent “Chronicles”. (12/31/2005)

Gee, that’s like asking if there’s anything alcohol can do to cure alcoholism. Clearly you need a 12-Step Program of some kind; and the first step is going to involve taking responsibility for your own actions. Then you’ll need some form of “submission to a higher power,” which in your case will necessitate immersion in other people’s books. I advise repeated readings of Dostoevsky’s “The Idiot” and Meredith’s “Modern Love.” (12/31/2005)

Sure, people kept telling Covenant that he will “save or damn the Land.” But does he see himself that way? Does he realize that he’s on some kind of knife-edge? That he may have a fatal flaw? I doubt it. Nothing in the text suggests it (to the best of my recollection). If anything, he’s more inclined to think of himself as the victim of his illness. In practice, you might say that he sees himself as *all* flaw. I suspect that the same concept applies to Elena, but in reverse. She doesn’t see herself as flawed, or on a knife-edge: like Troy, she’s *too* sure of who she is and what she can do. But the attitude of the Lords toward her would be comparable to their attitude toward Covenant: not distrust, but rather a kind of chosen trust (rather like a leap of faith). The reasoning might go something like this: if you choose to believe that something good will happen, and plan for it, you may or may not be right; but if you choose to believe that something bad will happen, and plan for it, you pretty much guarantee that nothing good *can* happen. (By the way, this proposition has been confirmed by my personal experience.) As for the fact that the Lords have kept secrets about Elena from Troy, it might be considered simple compassion toward Covenant (sparing Covenant the extremes of Troy’s impulse to be judgmental); or it might be seen as acting on their policy of deliberate trust. (12/31/2005)

Part of the sheer terror of having LFB rejected by every fiction publisher in the US was the knowledge that I had found my “true calling,” the work I was born to do. One consequence or corollary was an absolute inability to imagine doing anything else. I didn’t know how to live in a world that held no place for me. My plan--to the extent that I had one--was to submit LFB to British publishers. And doubtless I would have tried to get some kind of job (teaching?). But if Lester del Rey hadn’t picked LFB out of his slush pile, the only thing I would really have done is died--emotionally, spiritually, psychologically, if not physically. I had neither the strength nor the tools (e.g. wisdom) to survive unending confirmation that my best simply wasn’t good enough. (12/31/2005)

Hmm. One small matter first. I disagree with you about Mhoram’s realization. In my view, his recognition was that the Oath of Peace (a construct of the “new” Lords) had been misunderstood--or misapplied--not that “the land and law couldn’t be preserved.” Now. I haven’t read “State of Fear.” My instinctive reaction to your description of Crighton’s ideas is that I’m not sure human beings are *qualified* to “manage” the environment, and we might all be better off if we let the environment manage itself. (Polluting and depleting the world as fast as we can does NOT constitute either “managing” the environment ourselves or letting the environment manage itself. What we’re really doing is creating conditions which will eventually force the environment to manage *us*.) (In this, the Masters are very unlike the Lords. The Lords wanted to nurture and support their environment. The Masters want to prevent people from having any impact at all on their environment.) But I wasn’t thinking in your specific terms--“‘preservation’ being a doomed concept”--when I planned any of the “Chronicles”. Of course, I was profoundly affected by Tolkien, who pretty much defined (and imposed?) the proposition that “the world is becoming less than it was” as one of the necessary characteristics of epic fantasy. (And if Tolkien didn’t do it, Tennyson did.) However, I wasn’t consciously trying to emulate Tolkien--or Tennyson--in the “Chronicles”. On a conscious level, I was more concerned with trying to tell the truth about the Second Law of Thermodynamics (entropy, everything always runs down), and to suggest that it is the task of every caring being (that perhaps it is the entire purpose of life) to resist the process as much as possible; to preserve as much as we can for as long as we can. (12/31/2005)

(The fact that I’m not a visual person probably explains why I use so many visual metaphors.) I don’t “see” how anyone could argue with the interpretation you’ve suggested. I don’t think in those kinds of thematic terms when I’m actually writing a story; but I certainly become aware of the story’s themes, and develop them consciously, while I’m rewriting. And you’re bound to have noticed that the theme of *paradox* is everywhere in the “Chronicles”. Somewhere in what I’ll call my apprenticeship (everything that I produced before I started on “Lord Foul’s Bane”), I wrote--although I no longer remember where or why--“The back of blessing bears a curse/For taking comfort one is worse/And promise is its own reverse.” Stating the same insight in terms that better suit my current thinking, I now believe that every weakness is a strength misapplied, and every strength is a weakness which has found its proper use. In one form or another, you’ll find such notions throughout the “Chronicles”. (12/31/2005)

There’s actually quite a bit that could be said about this. At the risk of being cryptic, I’ll try to keep it short. On an emotional level, the most fundamental human need may be the need for confirmation that we exist. Our deepest fear may be that we *don’t* exist--or that we *won’t* exist--and so we hunger for evidence that we’re really here. In general, people tend to get their confirmation, their evidence, from their interactions with other people (work, family, friends, etc.). (Of course, any form of sensory input can serve as evidence. Inevitably, however, the reactions of other beings--even pets--have more power than any self-generated confirmation.) But. Of necessity, writing is usually a solitary occupation. And it’s more solitary than non-writers realize, in part because every aspect of publication is so impersonal, in part because the lag between *writing* and *being read* is so long, and in part because the writer so seldom has any interaction at all with the reader (which in itself is a more complex issue than most people realize: it’s difficult for non-writers to understand that most “public” interactions between writer and reader--e.g. autographings, readings, Q&A--are profoundly IMpersonal, since both writer and reader are acting out what might be called generic roles). And in more personal ways my isolation is exacerbated by a variety of factors: native shyness, systemic aculturation, poor judgment, bad luck, the inevitable diminishment that comes with age, etc.. As a result, writers in general, and I in particular, tend to suffer from a peculiar--and somewhat paradoxical--deprivation: we don’t get enough confirmation that we exist. (Which explains why writers so often become wildly eccentric, or collapse into problems like alcoholism, or both.) The bottom line is this: messages like yours, and the GI in general, serve as reminders that I exist. The “generic” quality I’ve just mentioned dilutes the benefits; but the benefits are still real. All of which is a rather elaborate way of saying, “Thank you.” <rueful smile> (12/31/2005)