The End of Edmund, Introducing Raiselig
The End
The Macabre Tale of Edmund Moulde took me more than a decade to write, and I still can’t honestly say “I’m done.” Art is never finished, only abandoned, and I could continue to tinker with this and that for decades more.
I certainly can’t say it’s polished. Only the first book really reached that level of “completeness” for me, I’d still call the last three “second drafts” at best.
Perhaps the biggest problem I had (and still have) is my inconsistant brain. See, when I start writing a story, I usually have a few solid ideas regarding certain scenes, plot threads, or character arcs. I see a path forward, and I start writing with that path in mind.
By the next week, or sometimes the next day, I have written something that opens up whole new avenues of character, plot, and theme. With the first Edmund book, my original plan was for the final dinner scene to be Edmund vs. his cousins, not the other Founding Families. The whole book was supposed to involve Edmund exploring the mansion, dealing with Mrs. Kippling, Ung, and Matron, to say nothing of the thing in the attic.
But, when I wrote the Cousin’s entrance, I was struck with possibilities, and the import of Edmund bringing them together. From there, a complete rewrite turned the cousins into a mid-story shake-up that prompted Edmund’s attempt to leave, and Matron’s subsequent rainy tea-party.
It happens with every story. As I write scene after scene, the characters that start the book become completely different than the ones that finish it, and not in an interesting “character growth” kind of way, but in a “is actually a different person” kind of way.
It happens with plot too. Eventually, I have stories with seven or eight different plot-threads that need to be tied together or pulled apart entirely. It’s an exhausting process, as each new chapter requires revisions of all preceeding chapters for consistancy.
But in the end, I’m satisfied with what the Quadrilogy is, for what it is. I can’t keep revising forever, and I’ve reached the point where I can’t see what’s actually there through all the revisions. Perhaps someday I’ll revise it all, but for now, it’s time to move on.
Specifically, moving on to my next project, the Raiselig Dossier.
About The Raiselig Dossier
Hilda is a great TV Show/Graphic novel by Luke Pearson. In it, Alphur the elf is a red-tape enthusiast who joins Hilda on her adventures. As an elf, he is devoted to ensuring protocols are followed, contracts are adhered to, and every T and I are crossed and dotted. Hilda can’t even see the elves until she has signed all the paperwork allowing her to do so.
From this, a simple idea: Magic is in words. The first magic word was Abracadabra, assumed to mean “I create as I speak,” or rather, as I will, so it is. As time goes on, stories of wizards involve more magic words, more complex arcane gestures, they needed wands, charts, telescopes, potions, etc. Eventually, would not all magic be contracts and established precidents?
There was humor in this idea, and sadness. I invisioned a world where throwing a fireball required contractual negotiations, and even existing as a goblin required a Notary Public. I saw old folk monsters becoming the newer re-envisioned versions of themselves, because the files needed updating. I saw people who thought they were one thing forced into becoming something they weren’t.
Enter Raiselig, a corruption of the Afrikaans translation of “Mystery Light” or “Traveling Light,” a being who was once themself, before being forced into the codified terms of Will-o’-the-wisp, or vampire, or any number of mythological designations. As a conglomerate, they are a being who knew once who they were, and now survives their abusive redefinition by learning and enforcing the rules of behavior that tormented them, perpetuating the abuse on others.
The Dossier will likely never be more than a series of short stories. While I have other ideas for Raiselig, none of them are really capable of sustaining a full book.
Uploads will begin tomorrow!