Novels begin in many different ways, drawing their
“motive energy” or “visions of ultimate coolness” from varied sources. Which is
a high-falutin’ way of saying that there is no one right way in which to begin
a story. It can start with a visual image (very common with me, as I’m a visual
writer), an emotional turning-point, or an idea that grabs the imagination. Or
a line of dialog or a melody. Many writers experience a tango-like dance with
their creative inspirations, which ranges from the times the source dictates
its own story in total defiance of genre boundaries and market demands, to
those instances when the writer summons a story to fit certain specifications.
The world of The Seven-Petaled Shield
began with the latter.
My first professional short story sale was to Marion
Zimmer Bradley for the debut volume of Sword
& Sorceress. (It was, of course, an occasion of much rejoicing!) When the
anthology became an annual series, I kept submitting stories, and looking
around for different cultures and situations. For one of the later volumes (XIII),
I wanted to explore the tensions between a nomadic horse people and a
city-based culture like Rome, and their different values and forms of magic. I
did not call them Romans and Scythians, but these models were very much in my
mind. As I delved further into my research, researching aspects of life and
warfare that spoke to me, I learned that although Scythian women were
definitely second-class citizens, the Sarmatian women rode to battle and were
likely the origin of the “Amazons” of legend. Thus began a
series of “Azkhantian” tales, in which the women of a nomadic horse people battle
against the relentless incursions of Gelon (this world’s Roman Empire) What could be more perfect for a
sword and sorcery story featuring a strong woman protagonist?
