When most people hear the word
spirituality, they think of organized religion, and that in itself
is a fascinating topic in terms of world-building. But what I want to talk
about here is how we as writers define and develop the spiritual foundations of
our story. In this sense,
spiritual as
distinct from religious can mean
mystical,
unworldly, magical, or
psychic. I
look at spirituality as those qualities and experiences that are not physical
but can have a profound influence over the experiences and decisions of our
characters. I am well aware that this opens me up to accusations of being
woo-woo, and perhaps a different word
would better encompass the ethical, moral, and emotional landscape of a story. Spirituality
creates one of the interwoven layers that answer the question, “What is the story
about?” If the entire answer is some high-falutin’ jargon about
the battle between good and evil or
love conquers all, the elevator pitch
fails because although these may be themes, they are not story cores. Likewise,
without this dimension, a description of the physical action of the story falls
flat.
The Wizard of Oz is “about” a
whole lot more than a girl who gets swept away by a tornado. Nor can it be
described completely as a tale of friendship, courage, and belonging. Stories
are specific, and all of these concepts are general.
Although the first “Azkhantian Tale” was necessarily set
within the sword and sorcery genre by the
market I was aiming for, I wanted to
play counter to the prevailing expectations. The market (Marion Zimmer
Bradley’s
Sword & Sorceress)
required a strong female protagonist, and that’s the kind of story I wanted to
write. But I didn’t want yet another iteration of the lofty heroines of the “rape
and revenge,” “slaying the dragon,” or “rescuing the prince/ss” type. I wanted
to get away from the
physical-strength = heroism paradigm, because there are
many kinds of strength besides that of mighty thews and bulging musculature.
When most people hear the word spirituality, they think of organized religion, and that in itself
is a fascinating topic in terms of world-building. But what I want to talk
about here is how we as writers define and develop the spiritual foundations of
our story. In this sense, spiritual as
distinct from religious can mean mystical,
unworldly, magical, or psychic. I
look at spirituality as those qualities and experiences that are not physical
but can have a profound influence over the experiences and decisions of our
characters. I am well aware that this opens me up to accusations of being woo-woo, and perhaps a different word
would better encompass the ethical, moral, and emotional landscape of a story. Spirituality
creates one of the interwoven layers that answer the question, “What is the story
about?” If the entire answer is some high-falutin’ jargon about the battle between good and evil or love conquers all, the elevator pitch
fails because although these may be themes, they are not story cores. Likewise,
without this dimension, a description of the physical action of the story falls
flat. The Wizard of Oz is “about” a
whole lot more than a girl who gets swept away by a tornado. Nor can it be
described completely as a tale of friendship, courage, and belonging. Stories
are specific, and all of these concepts are general.
Although the first “Azkhantian Tale” was necessarily set
within the sword and sorcery genre by the market I was aiming for, I wanted to
play counter to the prevailing expectations. The market (Marion Zimmer
Bradley’s Sword & Sorceress)
required a strong female protagonist, and that’s the kind of story I wanted to
write. But I didn’t want yet another iteration of the lofty heroines of the “rape
and revenge,” “slaying the dragon,” or “rescuing the prince/ss” type. I wanted
to get away from the physical-strength = heroism paradigm, because there are
many kinds of strength besides that of mighty thews and bulging musculature.
