A NEW UR-STORY: AN INTERVIEW WITH DIRK STRASSER
~ Van Ikin ~
Originally published in SCIENCE FICTION #40
Your two Ascension books, Zenith and Equinox, have been one of the
success stories of the 90s boom is Australian fantasy; they've put your name Up There with Sara Douglass, Shannah Jay, Garth Nix. Since people are always interested in the story-behind-the-story, can you tell us how you formed the concept for the series?
The original idea for the series and the first words of Zenith go back to around 1983. I’d been planning to write a novel for years, but university and the first couple of years of teaching got in the way. I’ve always liked epics – tales told on a large canvas – and I was very ambitious in terms of the scale of the trilogy. I wanted the basis of the world I was creating to be something on a large scale. I think I must have recently been reading Dune and the River World series, and I was thinking in terms of enormously large desert, enormously large river, enormously large... mmm... mountain. There have been other writers who have used this idea since then, but back then there wasn’t anything set on enormously large mountain.
I also wanted to write something different to the run-of-the-mill high fantasy that was being published. I think I was already experiencing that jaded feeling which most fantasy readers eventually experience – that sense that I was being told the same story again and again, that the sense of wonder was fading. Now, I know that the very foundation of fantasy is the same timeless ur-story, but the aim I set myself was to produce a tale which was new, fresh and different, but one which also tapped into those conventions and archetypes that fantasy readers love, thereby rekindling the primal sense of wonder that fantasy readers discover when they first read fantasy.
The male/female Maelir/Faemir conflict was a conscious attempt to introduce a new element to a fantasy story. Of course, the conflict between a ruling patriarchal society and a militant group of feminists now appears in other fantasy works, but back in 1983 I felt I had a really fresh idea which no-one had touched on.
Once I had the setting and the basic conflict, the process of world-building and story-building became a series questions and answers:
If my setting is a huge mountain, then what is the story?
Obviously someone scales this mountain. For the reader to see as much of this world as possible, then the main character has to start at or near the base and climb to the summit.
Why does this person do it?
There must be some very strong motivation such as a ritual. There must also be something at the summit which is worth having.
What is at the summit worth having?
etc
The process wasn’t quite as simple as this, and the details took years to work out. I wrote two chapters and then felt I was at dead end so I turned to short story writing for some time to improve my skills. During those years I was working on Zenith, I trekked in Nepal, read a bit about Buddhism, took creative writing classes at the local TAFE, had short stories published, did some freelance journalism, started Aurealis with Stephen Higgins, taught High School Mathematics and German and did a million other things which contributed in some way to the final product – but all the time, I think the questions-and-answer process which began with the idea of a bloody great mountain just kept ticking away.
Did you have to send the manuscript to many publishers before there were expressions of interest?
I think almost every fantasy publisher in the English-speaking world must have had a version of Zenith on their desks at some time or other. I made a number of mistakes early on. I thought at first that I could sell the novel on sample chapters and a detailed synopsis, that is, before I had actually completed it. Bad idea. I thought if I got a designer to do this cover for me and I actually saddle-stitched the manuscript so that it was more “book-like” that I would have a better chance of being noticed. Bad idea. I thought that hunting through published fantasy books for addresses of appropriate publishers to send my manuscript to was the best way to proceed. Not a terrible idea, but there are far more efficient ways.
Anyway, Pan Macmillan Australia was the first publisher to see the completed manuscript and they accepted it without hesitation.
What about revisions to the manuscript? Many of my Creative Writing students will be reading this, and I'm always trying to impress upon them that the day after you shout “Finished!” you have to hunker down and wait for publishers to request changes. Did you cop many?
When Pan rang me to say they wanted to accept Zenith for publication, they asked me very politely if I was prepared to make some changes if required. My answer was “Of course!”. I think any writer who thinks their work cannot benefit from an editorial eye and an astute reader’s report is an arrogant fool. Some of the most famous and successful writers owe a significant debt to editors. I tend to follow the advice I usually give to my Creative Writing students when we are workshopping: listen carefully to every suggestion and be prepared to make changes, but don’t necessarily take
every suggestion on board.
The process at Pan, which is not atypical, is for a qualified reader to do an initial reader’s report. The reader is usually an expert in the field who is employed on a freelance basis by the publishing company. This is usually a general assessment which is crucial in determining whether the manuscript will be accepted for publication. It will usually highlight strengths as well as structural weaknesses and areas which require further attention. This happened with Zenith.
This is only the beginning of the process, though. The reader then did a detailed report where very specific queries and points of concern are raised. For example, “on page 45, character X says that he doesn’t like being spoken to in such a tone of voice yet on page 123 character Y speaks to character X in exactly that tone of voice and X doesn’t react. This
seems inconsistent.” The in-house editor who assumes responsibility for the book also makes a list of general and specific concerns which they wanted me to address. I then did a rewrite based on both sets of comments.
I personally feel every comment needs to be addressed in some way, and I would think carefully before “arguing a point”. Most often I would resolve a problem differently to the suggestion given by the editor or reader. Some of the things that were changed in Zenith and Equinox as a result of editors’ and readers’ comments were: some of the names (to make them less derivative of recognisable mythological names and to make the language sound more internally consistent), the social structure of the Mountain, and the descriptions of the main characters.
Were there any revisions that you found to be particularly taxing and difficult? (Or conversely, were there any that suddenly opened up for you marvellous new insights or possibilities?)
The names and associated language issue in Zenith was an interesting one. Because I had started the novel so many years before, I had come to consider some of the names I had chosen as “natural” choices, while the reader and editor found some jarring associations with them. I basically reassessed all the names in the novel when this issue came up. I tried to ensure that certain constructions appeared more than once (eg r’lung, R’in; Treyfell, Heimfell), so that the world had an underlying linguistic structure. This is one of the strengths of Tolkien, and something that I think most fantasy writers don’t do particularly well. I generally opted for a Nordic or Germanic feel, although many of the names could be traced back to Buddhism and various mythologies.
The comments regarding the social and political structure of the Mountain led to a more careful consideration of how the Mountain is ruled, and this in turn affected the plotting of Equinox considerably.
An outstanding feature of Equinox is its series of “courtroom” scenes as the various Holy Orders squabble over policy and procedure. The Circle sits around playing games of protocol and procedure (about who may speak, and on what topics, and so forth). Verlinden gets fed up with this and cries out: “Don't you see the sense of urgency? People are dying as we speak–and you continue with games...”. Is this attack on inertia based upon personal experience?
On reflection, I suppose I’m not keen on endless meetings and discussions where things don’t get done. I’ve never been one to speak at a meeting simply for the sake of saying something, and I find it frustrating dealing with those that do. On the other hand, I find court room dramas, where the finally-honed opposing arguments appear to be in balance, fascinating. The frustration that Verlinden expresses is partly a way of reasserting her strength and that of the Faemir. I wanted to ensure that Verlinden is seen as a proactive rather than a passive character, even though she doesn’t share the military aggression of the other Faemir.
Zenith and Equinox make forceful points about the nature and the power of books. Praether, the old librarian who thinks he's a failure in life, realises that “I was wrong in searching for some big sign of the power of the books. Power doesn't have to hit you like an axe.” Care to comment?
The two key Talismans in the series are Atreu’s Book and Teyth’s battle-axe. The power of ideas and creativity on the one hand and the power of brute force and destruction on the other. I have a real problem with many fantasy novels in that they have embedded in them the unswerving assumption that military might and brute force is what changes things. Any student of history would know the power of the idea is the instigator of change. Brute force and militarism only has an effect when linked to an idea or belief. In the Books of Ascension, I was really keen to present a conflict that can only be resolved through an idea – a victory of subtlety, diplomacy and the human spirit over brute force. Sure there are still plenty of battle scenes and sword fights (it wouldn’t be legitimate epic fantasy without these), but the assumptions underlying the world about the effectiveness of these as a way of resolving conflict are challenged all the way through the trilogy.
Praether's moment of insight into the power of books leads him to see the small but vastly significant change that has taken place in the Book of Maelur (the main book with which he is concerned). He notices that the phrase which used to read “I write this for the generations of Maelir to come” now reads as: “I write this for the generations to come”. This is a crucial change; it's hard to explain it outside the context of the novel–and hard to explain it within the novel's context without giving too much away–but I suppose you could say it's like removing sexist language so that a phrase like Australia's sons let us rejoice” becomes “Australians all let us rejoice”. It's about equality. We see that the discriminatory reference to the Maelir is expunged, and this opens up new opportunities for ALL races.
The Books of Ascension are about the power of language. I think the subtleties about the way things are said can have enormous consequences, and I wanted this to be reflected throughout the books. The “courtroom” scenes as you called them are playing with words on the one hand, yet on the other hand the consequences are mind-boggling. The words, not just the actions, matter.
The phrase that is at the centre of Praether’s revelation appears at the very beginning of Equinox,and I expected readers at the moment of his insight to vaguely remember that they’d read that quote before, and that they would look at the beginning of the novel to check which version appeared there. This was part of the game I was playing with the reader about reality and words throughout the novels. I wanted to get the reader doing exactly what the characters in the story were doing. The whole story within story structure is a game with the reader throughout. I don’t know if it worked. I don’t know how many people have noticed, for example, that Chapter 22 opens in an identical way in both Zenith and Equinox. In Equinox Chapter 22, Atreu is reading Chapter 22 of his own book, Zenith. The story is really a closed loop at
this pivotal point.
Ultimately it doesn’t really matter whether readers notice all the subtleties. The story within story play in the Books of Ascension should add to the sense of other-worldliness or sense of wonder even if the reader isn’t consciously aware of all details. I’m not a great fan of writers who try to be really clever and subtle, and then complain if readers don’t “get it”. I think a writer has to produce something that is entertaining and worthwhile even if the reader misses all the "cleverness”. A writer is meant to communicate, and if the only thing they are communicating is how clever they are, it seems to me to be a pretty shallow endeavour.
You also have a strong preoccupation with violence–a concern about its utter destructiveness. Towards the end of Equinox, Teyth says “I was doing so much killing that I'd built a wall of bodies around me” and that the wall of bodies become so high that he “couldn't climb out. I'd trapped myself”. And Valkyra is in an even worse position, for she is even MORE trapped in the cycle of violence and she doesn't even WISH for freedom.
Towards the end of Equinox Leyvin says: “Why stop there, Lythos? Why not kill Atreu as well? Why not butcher Riell while you're at it...? Why not even put a knife through old Praether's heart?” Some people argue against violence because it brutalizes the soul, and we see evidence of this in Teyth and Valkyra, but here your argument seems to be that violence can't be stopped or controlled.
I certainly intended to show violence that brutalises the soul. I wanted to get away from the typical fantasy approach which glorifies every head that’s lopped off and every soldier left bleeding in the battle field. There’s still something of this “glory of the battle” in a number of the characters – it’s part of the genre – but ultimately war will come down to a savage, brutal, pointless exercise. If you see any ambivalence, it is because the trilogy is not yet finished and some of the characters have yet to develop certain insights.
Let me ask you one other question about the violence theme. In Chapter 26, Teyth can't understand how Valkyra could kill innocent Ascenders who were just meditating and therefore completely helpless. Atreu says “It's a war” and Teyth accuses him of defending Valkyra's actions, to which Atreu replies: “You can't defend anyone's actions in war.” That old “War is hell” notion DOES become a defence for some people, doesn't it? If we say “war is hell” it implies that ANYONE might kill defenceless meditating Ascenders. But you're siding with the point of view which says that even if war is hell, some people don't let themselves descend as hellishly low as others.
Valkyra is a deeply disturbed character. She is the most violent character in Zenith and Equinox, and the level of her brutality is most obvious in this scene where Atreu and Teyth discover the bodies. Although the ultimate message of the Books of Ascension is anti-war and anti-violence, I don’t think novels should preach. The characters express all sorts views with regard to violence, but the action and events in the novels ultimately give the message.
One of the most striking features of the Ascension trilogy is its use of viewpoint. Can I ask you to explain the way you've handled this? (You might even give us a peak at what's coming up in Book 3…)
Zenith is told entirely from Atreu’s point of view. He is in every scene, and the reader does not see or hear anything apart from what he sees and hears. I did this for a number of reasons. Zenith is meant to be Atreu’s story. The Book he reads in the final scene is his own. I wanted the reader to discover this world as he discovers it, climb the Mountain as he climbs it. The structure for Zenith is that of a quest. I wanted this book to follow the pattern of the journey of the hero. I also did it partly as a discipline and create a concentrated effect. Changing view point unnecessarily and inappropriately is one of the most common mistakes that beginning (and sloppy) writers make. Forcing myself to tell everything from Atreu’s perspective ensured that I kept this first novel on track.
Equinox deliberately has a multi-character viewpoint. The story is no longer just Atreu’s. He is central but is now part of a much larger canvas. The action switches backwards and forwards rather than just following a single journey line. The point of view in each book is meant to mirror the climbing of a mountain. The perspective widens and you can see further the higher you go – the series is called the Books of Ascension for a number of reasons. While Zenith is told purely from the Maelir perspective, Equinox is told from both the Maelir and Faemir perspective. The perspective in Eclipse will be even wider, incorporating the Nazir perspective. Each time the reader is forced to reassess their assumptions and beliefs about this world.
Zenith and Equinox have both been marketed as adult fiction. But Atreu and Teyth are characters who would appeal immensely to a Young Adult audience, and I know you're trying to persuade your publishers to market the Ascension books for the Young Adult audience as well. How's that going?
I’ve had limited success in that regard. Publishers are quite inflexible when it comes to categories. Once they see a book slotting into a certain category, it’s very hard to change their mind set. The most enthusiastic response from readers to Zenith and Equinox has come from Young Adults. I didn’t make a conscious decision to write a series with Young Adult appeal, but that is clearly what has happened. I’ve done quite a bit of research in this area recently, and the Books of Ascension seem to fulfil all the requirements of the Young Adult category. The length is important. At 120,000 words each, they just fit in – the really long fantasy sagas couldn’t be marketed as YA. Atreu and most of the main characters are all young adults, and that’s another criterion. Most of all, though, there is something indefinable about the plotline and the issues involved that strikes a chord with young adults.
Perhaps the best time to put them forward as Young Adult titles would be after the publication of Book 3...
I think you’re probably right.
Do you know if Zenith or Equinox have had much penetration into schools? It seems to me that they're ideal “teaching texts”,for they're exciting to read and yet they pose the kind of “serious issues” that we've been discussing–about literature, equality, violence, and so forth....
I don’t think they have as yet. I’m convinced they are the sorts of books that teachers and school librarians would enthusiastically recommend to students, but Ascension needs to be marketed as Young Adult for the books to reach the
schools.
Did you have any particular motivation in getting started as a writer? Any role models?
I wanted to be a writer as far back as I could write. I’ve still got a box full of little books that I put together going back to when I was five. I remember going door-to-door when I was a kid selling a Superman story I and some friends wrote. I think we asked two cents each for them. We made enough money for a large bag of lollies, so I remember being quite pleased about that. I think it was reading The Hobbit in Grade 5 that was the real catalyst, certainly in terms of fantasy fiction. A friend of mine and I almost immediately starting writing a fantasy book about zabbits. I’ve still got the map and the first three chapters somewhere. I put my writing on hold during the senior years of High School and university, mainly because of study commitments, but I went back to it after teaching a couple of years.
I don’t really have any role models. I read Tolkien, Asimov, Clarke, Heinlein and Wyndham when I was young, and lots of Silverberg and Aldiss a bit later. Since then I’ve tended to read one or two books by an author rather than going through an author’s full list. I’ve also read quite a bit outside the SF/fantasy genres. There’s also quite a bit of influence from the nineteenth century German Romantic movement, which I studied at university, and E. T. A. Hoffmann in particular.
Did SF fandom and fanzines play a role in the decision to write?
No. I was only vaguely aware of it, and I didn’t attend the two Worldcons in Melbourne. I only really became aware of fandom after starting Aurealis with Stephen Higgins in 1990. The sense of community is a very important part of SF, however, and wild horses wouldn’t keep me away from Aussiecon Three in 1999.
What, for you, is the best aspect of being a writer?
I enjoy the act of creating, and of world-building in particular. I like it when your work takes a direction which you didn’t consciously intend, as if it has a life of its own. I get a kick out of holding the published book in my hand and seeing it on the shelves in the bookstores.
And the worst aspect?
The rejections. Mainly the rejections where you know some slush pile reader is jaded, overworked, and hasn’t really read your work properly.
Now, what about Aurealis? As I understand it, Aurealis came into existence because you felt a sense of “mission”–a mission to fill the void left by the demise of Void, Omega, Far Out! and Aphelion...
I think calling it a sense of “mission” is appropriate. I felt some personal frustration at the demise of Aphelion magazine, because I was just starting to send short stories out, and there was no paying Australian market specialising in short fiction. Both Stephen and I felt there Australia should have such a magazine. We felt strongly that such a magazine should pay more than a token amount, have wide national distribution, have a strong Australian focus, and offer a level playing field for all Australian SF/fantasy writers. We proud to say we’ve achieved those aims.
You've just published the 18th issue of Aurealis. Looking back, what’s your own evaluation of what you've achieved? I would think you'd be very satisfied with the magazine, but I know it's been a struggle and I'd guess that you were a bit disappointed when you had to cut down the publishing frequency. How does it feel with that Big 20th issue just around the corner now?
I wish I had a dollar for every time someone has said how disappointed they are that we reduced the frequency from four times a year to twice a year. It’s nice in a way because it reflects how highly people regard Aurealis, but it also gets a little frustrating, particularly when people imply this reduction occurred recently. We only ever produced four issues a year in 1991 and 1992. That’s two years out of seven, so Aurealis could far more accurately be described as a bi-annual which was quarterly for two years.
No-one at Chimaera Publications was particularly disappointed when we decided to go bi-annual at the end of 1992. It was a deliberate strategy which has benefited the magazine in the long run. Firstly, producing four issues a year stretched our resources to a point where we had no time for promotion and marketing. There’s no point in churning out something which isn’t marketed properly. We wanted to sell in the thousands, not hundreds – unless you’re selling in the thousands and making a profit, no-one is going to keep going indefinitely with something like this, and we wanted a sustainable magazine which offered a steady and reliable market for Australian authors. We needed to find that promotion time, and we did. Secondly, by going bi-annual Aurealis became eligible for Book Bounty, so there were strong financial incentives to do it.
Looking back, we are probably most proud of the number of beginning writers who we’ve published. I can understand how some of the more established writers would get a bit frustrated that their reputation doesn’t really count when we evaluate stories for Aurealis, but I think most of them would accept that each individual story is what counts. Fortunately, the more established writers have usually responded to our policy by sending us their best work, knowing that their “name” won’t give them any advantage. Ultimately, by offering such an open market, the result is a huge increase in the number of people seriously writing SF, fantasy and horror for publication. There’s nothing like a real chance of being published to help motivation.
I think the development of the physical look of the magazine has been one of our great achievements. It’s been an evolutionary process, but if you compare it now to Asimov’s and The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction in terms of physical appearance and layout, you would have to say in all honesty that we come out looking pretty good.
The really exciting things as we approach issue #20 will be our website, and the continuing growth of the Aurealis Awards. Aurealis is now are more than just a magazine, and that’s something we’re all proud of. And we’ve always got more surprises in store for our readers.
In the Editorial for issue One, you and Stephen Higgins expressed the hope that Australian literature's “Golden Age of fantasy and SF” might be “just up ahead”. That was in 1990; how do you feel now? How close are we now?
Stephen and I were acutely aware when we wrote that first editorial back in 1990 that eras in SF such as the US Golden Age and the British New Wave were defined by particular magazines. We set up a magazine with aims and objectives that were deliberately designed to usher in an Australian Golden Age of SF. The strong Australian element; the deliberate focus on “Australianness” in stories and cover art; the emphasis on new, dynamic writers; and the desire break out the limitations of a small SF community to find a wide audience were all part of it.
We said in the final sentence of our 1992 foreword to our Collector’s Edition that “Possibly, just possibly, the Golden Age has arrived”. We certainly kicked off the idea of an Australian SF Golden Age in people’s minds. It has been a regular topic of debate since then. As I tried to point out in Zenith, sometimes the word or the idea has to be there for the reality to materialise. Has the Australian SF Golden Age come about in part simply because we said it was “shining just up ahead” back in issue one of Aurealis? My answer would be “possibly, just possibly”. These things ultimately come down to historians to assess, and the participants don’t always have the perspective, however, I’ve personally got no doubts that we are now right in the middle of our Golden Age, and that Aurealis has defined it. And the credit should go not just to the two main editors, but to the dozens of people who have worked on the magazine over the last seven years.
What about looking at it from the writer's perspective? Ten years ago there were few publishers interested in local work and few novel-length works being published by Aussies. Now, with Pan and HarperCollins running established lines, and Random House coming on line with a regular supply of titles – and Penguin about to start publishing Fantasy novels side-by-side with their line of Paul Collins anthologies–can it, realistically, get much better? Perhaps in pay and marketing?
I tell my SF writing students that six years ago my advice would be to forget about the Australian market. There has been a revolution since then. In answer to your specific question: “Yes, it can get even better”. We haven’t peaked yet. We can now add Transworld to your list, since they are starting a local SF/fantasy line. Penguin are still only dipping their toes in the water – there is more potential there. The big publishers are still learning and they will improve in selection of material, packaging and marketing over the next few years. Sales will increase further and advances will increase. The Aurealis Awards have given tremendous profile to local titles, and I think there will be a large growth in the near future of local titles which sell successfully overseas.
From what I hear, you always have several projects in the works at any one time. Are you willing to say a little about some of the ones that are current?
A children’s novel, Eclipse and a couple of short stories are all current projects. My other hat as school textbook author is going to keep me pretty busy over the next few months. The children’s novel is in the same vein as Graffiti, a sort of quirky fantasy, this time with more SF than horror overtones.
Last but not least: when does the third book of Ascension come out?
This is dependent on Pan to a large degree.
success stories of the 90s boom is Australian fantasy; they've put your name Up There with Sara Douglass, Shannah Jay, Garth Nix. Since people are always interested in the story-behind-the-story, can you tell us how you formed the concept for the series?
The original idea for the series and the first words of Zenith go back to around 1983. I’d been planning to write a novel for years, but university and the first couple of years of teaching got in the way. I’ve always liked epics – tales told on a large canvas – and I was very ambitious in terms of the scale of the trilogy. I wanted the basis of the world I was creating to be something on a large scale. I think I must have recently been reading Dune and the River World series, and I was thinking in terms of enormously large desert, enormously large river, enormously large... mmm... mountain. There have been other writers who have used this idea since then, but back then there wasn’t anything set on enormously large mountain.
I also wanted to write something different to the run-of-the-mill high fantasy that was being published. I think I was already experiencing that jaded feeling which most fantasy readers eventually experience – that sense that I was being told the same story again and again, that the sense of wonder was fading. Now, I know that the very foundation of fantasy is the same timeless ur-story, but the aim I set myself was to produce a tale which was new, fresh and different, but one which also tapped into those conventions and archetypes that fantasy readers love, thereby rekindling the primal sense of wonder that fantasy readers discover when they first read fantasy.
The male/female Maelir/Faemir conflict was a conscious attempt to introduce a new element to a fantasy story. Of course, the conflict between a ruling patriarchal society and a militant group of feminists now appears in other fantasy works, but back in 1983 I felt I had a really fresh idea which no-one had touched on.
Once I had the setting and the basic conflict, the process of world-building and story-building became a series questions and answers:
If my setting is a huge mountain, then what is the story?
Obviously someone scales this mountain. For the reader to see as much of this world as possible, then the main character has to start at or near the base and climb to the summit.
Why does this person do it?
There must be some very strong motivation such as a ritual. There must also be something at the summit which is worth having.
What is at the summit worth having?
etc
The process wasn’t quite as simple as this, and the details took years to work out. I wrote two chapters and then felt I was at dead end so I turned to short story writing for some time to improve my skills. During those years I was working on Zenith, I trekked in Nepal, read a bit about Buddhism, took creative writing classes at the local TAFE, had short stories published, did some freelance journalism, started Aurealis with Stephen Higgins, taught High School Mathematics and German and did a million other things which contributed in some way to the final product – but all the time, I think the questions-and-answer process which began with the idea of a bloody great mountain just kept ticking away.
Did you have to send the manuscript to many publishers before there were expressions of interest?
I think almost every fantasy publisher in the English-speaking world must have had a version of Zenith on their desks at some time or other. I made a number of mistakes early on. I thought at first that I could sell the novel on sample chapters and a detailed synopsis, that is, before I had actually completed it. Bad idea. I thought if I got a designer to do this cover for me and I actually saddle-stitched the manuscript so that it was more “book-like” that I would have a better chance of being noticed. Bad idea. I thought that hunting through published fantasy books for addresses of appropriate publishers to send my manuscript to was the best way to proceed. Not a terrible idea, but there are far more efficient ways.
Anyway, Pan Macmillan Australia was the first publisher to see the completed manuscript and they accepted it without hesitation.
What about revisions to the manuscript? Many of my Creative Writing students will be reading this, and I'm always trying to impress upon them that the day after you shout “Finished!” you have to hunker down and wait for publishers to request changes. Did you cop many?
When Pan rang me to say they wanted to accept Zenith for publication, they asked me very politely if I was prepared to make some changes if required. My answer was “Of course!”. I think any writer who thinks their work cannot benefit from an editorial eye and an astute reader’s report is an arrogant fool. Some of the most famous and successful writers owe a significant debt to editors. I tend to follow the advice I usually give to my Creative Writing students when we are workshopping: listen carefully to every suggestion and be prepared to make changes, but don’t necessarily take
every suggestion on board.
The process at Pan, which is not atypical, is for a qualified reader to do an initial reader’s report. The reader is usually an expert in the field who is employed on a freelance basis by the publishing company. This is usually a general assessment which is crucial in determining whether the manuscript will be accepted for publication. It will usually highlight strengths as well as structural weaknesses and areas which require further attention. This happened with Zenith.
This is only the beginning of the process, though. The reader then did a detailed report where very specific queries and points of concern are raised. For example, “on page 45, character X says that he doesn’t like being spoken to in such a tone of voice yet on page 123 character Y speaks to character X in exactly that tone of voice and X doesn’t react. This
seems inconsistent.” The in-house editor who assumes responsibility for the book also makes a list of general and specific concerns which they wanted me to address. I then did a rewrite based on both sets of comments.
I personally feel every comment needs to be addressed in some way, and I would think carefully before “arguing a point”. Most often I would resolve a problem differently to the suggestion given by the editor or reader. Some of the things that were changed in Zenith and Equinox as a result of editors’ and readers’ comments were: some of the names (to make them less derivative of recognisable mythological names and to make the language sound more internally consistent), the social structure of the Mountain, and the descriptions of the main characters.
Were there any revisions that you found to be particularly taxing and difficult? (Or conversely, were there any that suddenly opened up for you marvellous new insights or possibilities?)
The names and associated language issue in Zenith was an interesting one. Because I had started the novel so many years before, I had come to consider some of the names I had chosen as “natural” choices, while the reader and editor found some jarring associations with them. I basically reassessed all the names in the novel when this issue came up. I tried to ensure that certain constructions appeared more than once (eg r’lung, R’in; Treyfell, Heimfell), so that the world had an underlying linguistic structure. This is one of the strengths of Tolkien, and something that I think most fantasy writers don’t do particularly well. I generally opted for a Nordic or Germanic feel, although many of the names could be traced back to Buddhism and various mythologies.
The comments regarding the social and political structure of the Mountain led to a more careful consideration of how the Mountain is ruled, and this in turn affected the plotting of Equinox considerably.
An outstanding feature of Equinox is its series of “courtroom” scenes as the various Holy Orders squabble over policy and procedure. The Circle sits around playing games of protocol and procedure (about who may speak, and on what topics, and so forth). Verlinden gets fed up with this and cries out: “Don't you see the sense of urgency? People are dying as we speak–and you continue with games...”. Is this attack on inertia based upon personal experience?
On reflection, I suppose I’m not keen on endless meetings and discussions where things don’t get done. I’ve never been one to speak at a meeting simply for the sake of saying something, and I find it frustrating dealing with those that do. On the other hand, I find court room dramas, where the finally-honed opposing arguments appear to be in balance, fascinating. The frustration that Verlinden expresses is partly a way of reasserting her strength and that of the Faemir. I wanted to ensure that Verlinden is seen as a proactive rather than a passive character, even though she doesn’t share the military aggression of the other Faemir.
Zenith and Equinox make forceful points about the nature and the power of books. Praether, the old librarian who thinks he's a failure in life, realises that “I was wrong in searching for some big sign of the power of the books. Power doesn't have to hit you like an axe.” Care to comment?
The two key Talismans in the series are Atreu’s Book and Teyth’s battle-axe. The power of ideas and creativity on the one hand and the power of brute force and destruction on the other. I have a real problem with many fantasy novels in that they have embedded in them the unswerving assumption that military might and brute force is what changes things. Any student of history would know the power of the idea is the instigator of change. Brute force and militarism only has an effect when linked to an idea or belief. In the Books of Ascension, I was really keen to present a conflict that can only be resolved through an idea – a victory of subtlety, diplomacy and the human spirit over brute force. Sure there are still plenty of battle scenes and sword fights (it wouldn’t be legitimate epic fantasy without these), but the assumptions underlying the world about the effectiveness of these as a way of resolving conflict are challenged all the way through the trilogy.
Praether's moment of insight into the power of books leads him to see the small but vastly significant change that has taken place in the Book of Maelur (the main book with which he is concerned). He notices that the phrase which used to read “I write this for the generations of Maelir to come” now reads as: “I write this for the generations to come”. This is a crucial change; it's hard to explain it outside the context of the novel–and hard to explain it within the novel's context without giving too much away–but I suppose you could say it's like removing sexist language so that a phrase like Australia's sons let us rejoice” becomes “Australians all let us rejoice”. It's about equality. We see that the discriminatory reference to the Maelir is expunged, and this opens up new opportunities for ALL races.
The Books of Ascension are about the power of language. I think the subtleties about the way things are said can have enormous consequences, and I wanted this to be reflected throughout the books. The “courtroom” scenes as you called them are playing with words on the one hand, yet on the other hand the consequences are mind-boggling. The words, not just the actions, matter.
The phrase that is at the centre of Praether’s revelation appears at the very beginning of Equinox,and I expected readers at the moment of his insight to vaguely remember that they’d read that quote before, and that they would look at the beginning of the novel to check which version appeared there. This was part of the game I was playing with the reader about reality and words throughout the novels. I wanted to get the reader doing exactly what the characters in the story were doing. The whole story within story structure is a game with the reader throughout. I don’t know if it worked. I don’t know how many people have noticed, for example, that Chapter 22 opens in an identical way in both Zenith and Equinox. In Equinox Chapter 22, Atreu is reading Chapter 22 of his own book, Zenith. The story is really a closed loop at
this pivotal point.
Ultimately it doesn’t really matter whether readers notice all the subtleties. The story within story play in the Books of Ascension should add to the sense of other-worldliness or sense of wonder even if the reader isn’t consciously aware of all details. I’m not a great fan of writers who try to be really clever and subtle, and then complain if readers don’t “get it”. I think a writer has to produce something that is entertaining and worthwhile even if the reader misses all the "cleverness”. A writer is meant to communicate, and if the only thing they are communicating is how clever they are, it seems to me to be a pretty shallow endeavour.
You also have a strong preoccupation with violence–a concern about its utter destructiveness. Towards the end of Equinox, Teyth says “I was doing so much killing that I'd built a wall of bodies around me” and that the wall of bodies become so high that he “couldn't climb out. I'd trapped myself”. And Valkyra is in an even worse position, for she is even MORE trapped in the cycle of violence and she doesn't even WISH for freedom.
Towards the end of Equinox Leyvin says: “Why stop there, Lythos? Why not kill Atreu as well? Why not butcher Riell while you're at it...? Why not even put a knife through old Praether's heart?” Some people argue against violence because it brutalizes the soul, and we see evidence of this in Teyth and Valkyra, but here your argument seems to be that violence can't be stopped or controlled.
I certainly intended to show violence that brutalises the soul. I wanted to get away from the typical fantasy approach which glorifies every head that’s lopped off and every soldier left bleeding in the battle field. There’s still something of this “glory of the battle” in a number of the characters – it’s part of the genre – but ultimately war will come down to a savage, brutal, pointless exercise. If you see any ambivalence, it is because the trilogy is not yet finished and some of the characters have yet to develop certain insights.
Let me ask you one other question about the violence theme. In Chapter 26, Teyth can't understand how Valkyra could kill innocent Ascenders who were just meditating and therefore completely helpless. Atreu says “It's a war” and Teyth accuses him of defending Valkyra's actions, to which Atreu replies: “You can't defend anyone's actions in war.” That old “War is hell” notion DOES become a defence for some people, doesn't it? If we say “war is hell” it implies that ANYONE might kill defenceless meditating Ascenders. But you're siding with the point of view which says that even if war is hell, some people don't let themselves descend as hellishly low as others.
Valkyra is a deeply disturbed character. She is the most violent character in Zenith and Equinox, and the level of her brutality is most obvious in this scene where Atreu and Teyth discover the bodies. Although the ultimate message of the Books of Ascension is anti-war and anti-violence, I don’t think novels should preach. The characters express all sorts views with regard to violence, but the action and events in the novels ultimately give the message.
One of the most striking features of the Ascension trilogy is its use of viewpoint. Can I ask you to explain the way you've handled this? (You might even give us a peak at what's coming up in Book 3…)
Zenith is told entirely from Atreu’s point of view. He is in every scene, and the reader does not see or hear anything apart from what he sees and hears. I did this for a number of reasons. Zenith is meant to be Atreu’s story. The Book he reads in the final scene is his own. I wanted the reader to discover this world as he discovers it, climb the Mountain as he climbs it. The structure for Zenith is that of a quest. I wanted this book to follow the pattern of the journey of the hero. I also did it partly as a discipline and create a concentrated effect. Changing view point unnecessarily and inappropriately is one of the most common mistakes that beginning (and sloppy) writers make. Forcing myself to tell everything from Atreu’s perspective ensured that I kept this first novel on track.
Equinox deliberately has a multi-character viewpoint. The story is no longer just Atreu’s. He is central but is now part of a much larger canvas. The action switches backwards and forwards rather than just following a single journey line. The point of view in each book is meant to mirror the climbing of a mountain. The perspective widens and you can see further the higher you go – the series is called the Books of Ascension for a number of reasons. While Zenith is told purely from the Maelir perspective, Equinox is told from both the Maelir and Faemir perspective. The perspective in Eclipse will be even wider, incorporating the Nazir perspective. Each time the reader is forced to reassess their assumptions and beliefs about this world.
Zenith and Equinox have both been marketed as adult fiction. But Atreu and Teyth are characters who would appeal immensely to a Young Adult audience, and I know you're trying to persuade your publishers to market the Ascension books for the Young Adult audience as well. How's that going?
I’ve had limited success in that regard. Publishers are quite inflexible when it comes to categories. Once they see a book slotting into a certain category, it’s very hard to change their mind set. The most enthusiastic response from readers to Zenith and Equinox has come from Young Adults. I didn’t make a conscious decision to write a series with Young Adult appeal, but that is clearly what has happened. I’ve done quite a bit of research in this area recently, and the Books of Ascension seem to fulfil all the requirements of the Young Adult category. The length is important. At 120,000 words each, they just fit in – the really long fantasy sagas couldn’t be marketed as YA. Atreu and most of the main characters are all young adults, and that’s another criterion. Most of all, though, there is something indefinable about the plotline and the issues involved that strikes a chord with young adults.
Perhaps the best time to put them forward as Young Adult titles would be after the publication of Book 3...
I think you’re probably right.
Do you know if Zenith or Equinox have had much penetration into schools? It seems to me that they're ideal “teaching texts”,for they're exciting to read and yet they pose the kind of “serious issues” that we've been discussing–about literature, equality, violence, and so forth....
I don’t think they have as yet. I’m convinced they are the sorts of books that teachers and school librarians would enthusiastically recommend to students, but Ascension needs to be marketed as Young Adult for the books to reach the
schools.
Did you have any particular motivation in getting started as a writer? Any role models?
I wanted to be a writer as far back as I could write. I’ve still got a box full of little books that I put together going back to when I was five. I remember going door-to-door when I was a kid selling a Superman story I and some friends wrote. I think we asked two cents each for them. We made enough money for a large bag of lollies, so I remember being quite pleased about that. I think it was reading The Hobbit in Grade 5 that was the real catalyst, certainly in terms of fantasy fiction. A friend of mine and I almost immediately starting writing a fantasy book about zabbits. I’ve still got the map and the first three chapters somewhere. I put my writing on hold during the senior years of High School and university, mainly because of study commitments, but I went back to it after teaching a couple of years.
I don’t really have any role models. I read Tolkien, Asimov, Clarke, Heinlein and Wyndham when I was young, and lots of Silverberg and Aldiss a bit later. Since then I’ve tended to read one or two books by an author rather than going through an author’s full list. I’ve also read quite a bit outside the SF/fantasy genres. There’s also quite a bit of influence from the nineteenth century German Romantic movement, which I studied at university, and E. T. A. Hoffmann in particular.
Did SF fandom and fanzines play a role in the decision to write?
No. I was only vaguely aware of it, and I didn’t attend the two Worldcons in Melbourne. I only really became aware of fandom after starting Aurealis with Stephen Higgins in 1990. The sense of community is a very important part of SF, however, and wild horses wouldn’t keep me away from Aussiecon Three in 1999.
What, for you, is the best aspect of being a writer?
I enjoy the act of creating, and of world-building in particular. I like it when your work takes a direction which you didn’t consciously intend, as if it has a life of its own. I get a kick out of holding the published book in my hand and seeing it on the shelves in the bookstores.
And the worst aspect?
The rejections. Mainly the rejections where you know some slush pile reader is jaded, overworked, and hasn’t really read your work properly.
Now, what about Aurealis? As I understand it, Aurealis came into existence because you felt a sense of “mission”–a mission to fill the void left by the demise of Void, Omega, Far Out! and Aphelion...
I think calling it a sense of “mission” is appropriate. I felt some personal frustration at the demise of Aphelion magazine, because I was just starting to send short stories out, and there was no paying Australian market specialising in short fiction. Both Stephen and I felt there Australia should have such a magazine. We felt strongly that such a magazine should pay more than a token amount, have wide national distribution, have a strong Australian focus, and offer a level playing field for all Australian SF/fantasy writers. We proud to say we’ve achieved those aims.
You've just published the 18th issue of Aurealis. Looking back, what’s your own evaluation of what you've achieved? I would think you'd be very satisfied with the magazine, but I know it's been a struggle and I'd guess that you were a bit disappointed when you had to cut down the publishing frequency. How does it feel with that Big 20th issue just around the corner now?
I wish I had a dollar for every time someone has said how disappointed they are that we reduced the frequency from four times a year to twice a year. It’s nice in a way because it reflects how highly people regard Aurealis, but it also gets a little frustrating, particularly when people imply this reduction occurred recently. We only ever produced four issues a year in 1991 and 1992. That’s two years out of seven, so Aurealis could far more accurately be described as a bi-annual which was quarterly for two years.
No-one at Chimaera Publications was particularly disappointed when we decided to go bi-annual at the end of 1992. It was a deliberate strategy which has benefited the magazine in the long run. Firstly, producing four issues a year stretched our resources to a point where we had no time for promotion and marketing. There’s no point in churning out something which isn’t marketed properly. We wanted to sell in the thousands, not hundreds – unless you’re selling in the thousands and making a profit, no-one is going to keep going indefinitely with something like this, and we wanted a sustainable magazine which offered a steady and reliable market for Australian authors. We needed to find that promotion time, and we did. Secondly, by going bi-annual Aurealis became eligible for Book Bounty, so there were strong financial incentives to do it.
Looking back, we are probably most proud of the number of beginning writers who we’ve published. I can understand how some of the more established writers would get a bit frustrated that their reputation doesn’t really count when we evaluate stories for Aurealis, but I think most of them would accept that each individual story is what counts. Fortunately, the more established writers have usually responded to our policy by sending us their best work, knowing that their “name” won’t give them any advantage. Ultimately, by offering such an open market, the result is a huge increase in the number of people seriously writing SF, fantasy and horror for publication. There’s nothing like a real chance of being published to help motivation.
I think the development of the physical look of the magazine has been one of our great achievements. It’s been an evolutionary process, but if you compare it now to Asimov’s and The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction in terms of physical appearance and layout, you would have to say in all honesty that we come out looking pretty good.
The really exciting things as we approach issue #20 will be our website, and the continuing growth of the Aurealis Awards. Aurealis is now are more than just a magazine, and that’s something we’re all proud of. And we’ve always got more surprises in store for our readers.
In the Editorial for issue One, you and Stephen Higgins expressed the hope that Australian literature's “Golden Age of fantasy and SF” might be “just up ahead”. That was in 1990; how do you feel now? How close are we now?
Stephen and I were acutely aware when we wrote that first editorial back in 1990 that eras in SF such as the US Golden Age and the British New Wave were defined by particular magazines. We set up a magazine with aims and objectives that were deliberately designed to usher in an Australian Golden Age of SF. The strong Australian element; the deliberate focus on “Australianness” in stories and cover art; the emphasis on new, dynamic writers; and the desire break out the limitations of a small SF community to find a wide audience were all part of it.
We said in the final sentence of our 1992 foreword to our Collector’s Edition that “Possibly, just possibly, the Golden Age has arrived”. We certainly kicked off the idea of an Australian SF Golden Age in people’s minds. It has been a regular topic of debate since then. As I tried to point out in Zenith, sometimes the word or the idea has to be there for the reality to materialise. Has the Australian SF Golden Age come about in part simply because we said it was “shining just up ahead” back in issue one of Aurealis? My answer would be “possibly, just possibly”. These things ultimately come down to historians to assess, and the participants don’t always have the perspective, however, I’ve personally got no doubts that we are now right in the middle of our Golden Age, and that Aurealis has defined it. And the credit should go not just to the two main editors, but to the dozens of people who have worked on the magazine over the last seven years.
What about looking at it from the writer's perspective? Ten years ago there were few publishers interested in local work and few novel-length works being published by Aussies. Now, with Pan and HarperCollins running established lines, and Random House coming on line with a regular supply of titles – and Penguin about to start publishing Fantasy novels side-by-side with their line of Paul Collins anthologies–can it, realistically, get much better? Perhaps in pay and marketing?
I tell my SF writing students that six years ago my advice would be to forget about the Australian market. There has been a revolution since then. In answer to your specific question: “Yes, it can get even better”. We haven’t peaked yet. We can now add Transworld to your list, since they are starting a local SF/fantasy line. Penguin are still only dipping their toes in the water – there is more potential there. The big publishers are still learning and they will improve in selection of material, packaging and marketing over the next few years. Sales will increase further and advances will increase. The Aurealis Awards have given tremendous profile to local titles, and I think there will be a large growth in the near future of local titles which sell successfully overseas.
From what I hear, you always have several projects in the works at any one time. Are you willing to say a little about some of the ones that are current?
A children’s novel, Eclipse and a couple of short stories are all current projects. My other hat as school textbook author is going to keep me pretty busy over the next few months. The children’s novel is in the same vein as Graffiti, a sort of quirky fantasy, this time with more SF than horror overtones.
Last but not least: when does the third book of Ascension come out?
This is dependent on Pan to a large degree.