fantasy

Nature should be the Foundation of Fantasy

Most fantasy novels are set in a pseudo-historical setting because we love swords, cloaks, and princesses. Many authors do a considerable amount of research to make their setting authentic and believable. Often it is the historical details, rather than the fantastic ones, that form the groundwork for the world of the imagination. People must still eat, sleep, and go to the bathroom in whatever context they are set, and so those are details that the author must provide. We understand that the agriculture, government, technology, and and warfare in a story must adhere more to the examples of the past than those given by the modern world. We cannot have our knight galloping past a combine tractor, nor does it make sense to have a feudal system if the wheat can be harvested and processed mechanically. Additionally, we must be careful to avoid infusing our sword-wielding characters with modern values and sensibilities.

It’s true that humans will be humans no matter the context, but that doesn’t mean context is irrelevant to the way we approach the world. In Mongolian, there are over 500 words to describe the traits of horses, with about half of those describing the coat color alone. Mongolians spend a significant amount of time in their stories describing horses, and will often dwell on a horse’s pedigree longer than the hero who rides it. The Mongolian obsession with horses may seem alien to the average modern Westerner, who spends the majority of his time sitting indoors. In the same way, our characters should give attention to certain details that we would miss.

One of the most astounding criticisms I’ve received of my novel, The Wind from Faerie, is that I dwell too long on descriptions of nature. There are certainly valid criticisms to be made of my work, but this one seems utterly off base to me. I’ve often thought I don’t spend enough time describing the soil, the plants, the animals, and the clouds. The ancients were intimately tied to nature in a way that is difficult for us to understand today. If our ancestors could smell the snow on the air, and see the threat of it in the quilted clouds, then they could bring the flock to safety and insure that the fire is stoked before a flake has fallen. I only have to go back two generations in my own family before I reach a relative who had to farm without any mechanical aid. Someone who has to use a horse or ox to plow their field will know that animal like a member of their own family, and will gain an eye for all such creatures. My protagonist, Kellan, grew up stalking through the forest primeval. It is only logical that he would pay attention to bark and leaf, and that he would interpret all else through that lens. When he sees the marble columns of Parthicum, he is reminded of the august trunks of his native forest.

There are many reasons why I love the movie Gladiator, but one of my favorite details is how Maximus (the protagonist) is always examining the soil. He was a farmer before he became a general, and he never loses those instincts. He even stoops to feel and smell the dust of the Colosseum, the dust that may very well be soaked with his own blood by the day’s end. That’s good storytelling. Even today, those that spend time in nature will form a bond with it. Imagine a rancher, crouched among some thin and brittle grass. He’s in Iraq, waiting for an enemy convoy to roll by on the road, but all he can think about is that poor grass. A goat could hardly get a mouthful off it, and it would be a dusty mouthful. Suddenly, he has a concrete way to relate to the Iraqis. He can sympathize with those herdsmen, trying to eke a living from that thin grass while it’s getting trampled by foreign boots.

I’m currently working part time at a local college and am helping teach biology to the students there. In biology, there are roughly two levels of understanding life. The first is understanding what is happening on a molecular, cellular, and genetic level. This is essentially the stuff we can’t see, things that have strange names, and processes that involve a bunch of dots and arrows. It is understandably difficult for most people to learn. The second level is anatomy, behavior, and ecology. In this category, we are talking about how things grow and reproduce, how they get their food, and work in a community. Most importantly, we are dealing with plants and animals now, how they look and act. People are always good at learning the second category, even if they have no interest in biology. It isn’t just the difference between abstract concepts and concrete examples, those are present in both categories. The difference is that humans are hard-wired to quickly grasp the natural world. Plant and animal identification can be picked up quickly by anyone, and the average person can do a better job identifying species than our best computers. In botany class, after correctly identifying a tree, my professor would ask us why we had come to that conclusion. We’d often jokingly reply, “Because it looks like one.” The human mind can take note of all the subtleties of an organism at a glance, and that’s even true for those of us who spend an inordinate amount of time indoors. Imagine how much more adept our ancestors were, who were immersed in it, and for whom understanding nature was a matter of life and death.

Many of our characters live in a world in which nature is a part of their daily lives. They would know the songbirds that wake them in the morning, and the owls that call at night. They would know the names of the weeds, the trees, and the useful plants. They would know the insects that bite, those that spoil their crops, and those that predate the pests. They would know the names of the mountains and rivers, what creatures one might encounter there, and in which season. They would know what can lame a horse, the value of a cat, and how to train a dog. They would know when to sow, and when to reap; they would certainly know not to drink the water from every stream. In the midst of all their practical knowledge, they would also love and respect the natural world. They would recognize its beauty and its joys. Nature would be in the stories they tell, and the songs that they sing. They would define themselves relative to the natural world; it would inform their very identity. If we don’t know how our characters relate to nature, then we don’t know our characters.

If you find yourself at a loss for words to describe the beauty of nature, and the cycles of life alongside her, then I highly recommend reconnecting with your roots. Connecting with the natural world is an essential part of a healthy and happy life. We would be greatly benefited if we walk on the same trails of our ancestors, which are ultimately the same trails our characters must trod. Get outside and see the world!

Archery, Part One

On this blog I usually discuss stories, their process of creation, and ones that I particularly enjoy. Despite my penchant for fantasy, I’m also an eager student of history. I suspect the same is true for most fantasy writers. Most of us like to ground our fantasies in reality; even in a world full of magic, its important to know the difference between a gladius and a spatha. Writers usually pick an analogous time period and stick with it. If a writer is creating a medieval fantasy, he must understand the feudal system, the terminology for arms and armor, which tools that were available to people of that period, what the common food staples were, and so on and so forth. The amount of research needed to assemble all this information is considerable and will make a history enthusiast even from those who were not previously inclined. In today’s post, I’d like to provide a resource for writers that might save them an hour of research. For the rest of you, sit back and relax as we discuss all things archery.

I’ve been an archer for about as long as I can remember. I’m not sure who first introduced me to the sport, but my grandfather served as my great teacher. He gave me four bows over the course of his life, three of which were coveted Ben Pearson recurves. My first bow was a compound with a draw weight around ten pounds. Draw weight is the amount of weight it takes to pull the string back to its full draw. The force associated with that weight is then transferred to the arrow, making draw weight a standard measure of bow power. Essentially, my bow with a ten pound draw weight requires me to lift ten pounds with my fingers every time I want to draw the bow. Grandpa gave me the first recurve the day I proved I could pull back the thirty-five pound draw. Next were the forty-five pound and fifty-five pound bows, the latter of which I still regularly shoot today.

There are three broad types of bows: longbows, recurves, and compounds. Longbows are the most traditional bow. They are comprised of a stiff stick and a string. The stiffness of the wood resists being bent, and stores potential energy when bent by the string. Drawing the string back further loads the bow with potential energy. On release, the string transfers the energy into the arrow as the wood snaps back into a more relaxed position. Longbows generally have considerable “stacking”, which means that the last few inches of the draw contain a disproportionately greater amount of the draw weight. A bow that stacks is generally more difficult to shoot than a “smooth” drawing bow (draw weight is more proportionally distributed throughout the draw). In longbows, the power of the bow is directly related to its stiffness and the bow length. 

Recurve bows have limbs that curve forward when unstrung. The forward curve is achieved by heating and bending the wood into position, or by construction from several pieces. Stringing a recurve bow loads considerably more energy into the limbs than stringing a longbow because the limbs are being pulled back further. In many recurve bows, the limbs may be pulled 180º from their original position. The amount of flexibility and elasticity required for such a large range of limb movement is more than wood can handle, so recurves are generally constructed of composite materials. In the ancient world, sinew and horn were used to strengthen the wood of recurve bows; sinew was glued on the back of the limbs for elasticity, horn on the inside belly for stiffness. Composite recurve bows were first used by the nomadic pastoralists on the Eurasian Steppe, who famously used the bows for horse archery. The clever design of the composite recurve allowed for the construction of shorter bows that were easier to manage while mounted, but still held considerable power. but became the bow of choice for most people that lived on the edges of that region. In Europe, the Greeks and the Romans adopted the recurve bow and it became popular in all areas that were sufficiently dry for its use. The animal glue that held the composite bows together didn’t hold up well in wet climates, so it never became popular in places like the British Isles. Modern composite recurves are made with multiple layers of wood and fiberglass. The best bow woods are yew and Osage orange because they have an internal laminate structure that mimics composite materials.

Compound bows are the most popular bows used for hunting today. They have pulleys that considerably increase the power of the bow. Compound bows also have a resting state at full draw, which prevents the archer from having to hold the full weight of the draw. Traditional bows are generally not held at full draw for very long because of the strain on the archer, but compound bows can be held at full draw nearly indefinitely. Compound bows are generally constructed of metal, plastic, carbon fiber, and fiberglass. The compound bow was invented in the late 1960’s, and most models today are highly modular. A compound bow may be outfitted with a quiver, sights, counterweights, and mechanical release systems. While very effective for hunting, the compound bow’s long and irregular draw would make it a very poor weapon of war.

Humans have been using bows for around 18,000 years and the evidence suggests that they have been used both as a hunting tool and a weapon of war for the breadth of their history. The bow has turned the tide of many a battle. The Scythian victory over the Achaemenid Empire, the Parthian defeat of the Romans at the Battle of Carrhae, and the English victory over the French at Agincourt were all thanks to the power of archery. The Huns ravaged Europe with the bow, and with it the Mongols built the largest land empire the world has ever seen. The bow is a great leveler on the field of battle. The Mongols conquered half the world using arrow points primarily made of stone and bone. A simple steel point is armor piercing, even against the sophisticated plate armor of the 16th century. However, bows are not a weapon that anyone may pick up and be proficient with. Bows require strength to use, and take years of practice to master. That being said, they take less strength than melee weapons and are intuitive to use. This has no doubt led to the rise in fantasy circles of the bow being a “dexterity” weapon, one that is always used by the weak and small. While it’s true that a bow with enough power to kill requires little strength, most bows used in war had considerable draw weights. The famous bowmen of England pulled longbows with draw weights of two hundred pounds, forces that put so much strain on their bodies that it permanently deformed their skeletons. Smaller composite recurves used for war would have had substantially lower draw weights, but the point stands. The infamous women archers of Scythia (likely the inspiration for the Amazons) would probably have used bows with considerable draw weights.

Since this post is getting rather long, I think I’ll break it into two parts. Next week we’ll look at quivers, arrows, and shooting techniques.


The Sensiahd word of the day is “cwra”, meaning “bow”. Example sentence: Eth cosilien cwrae fyn. The wood elves have bows.