Dissecting Fantasy: Objects, Part 2

Objects, Magical and Mundane

Part 2

How selective use of objects can enhance a fantasy (or non-fantasy) novel

Last time: We discussed the importance of choosing wisely which objects your characters should have access to and what sort of practical items can help in your character's survival

Sources: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins,  the Harry Potter novels by J.K. Rowling, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien, "The Snow Queen" by Hans Christian Andersen

Objects in Identity

"For the opening ceremony, you're supposed to wear something that suggests your district's principal industry.  [...]  This means that coming from District 12, Peeta and I will be in some kind of coal miner's get-up.  Since the baggy miner's jumpsuits are not particularly becoming, our tributes usually end up in skimpy outfits with hats and headlamps.   One year, our tributes were stark naked and covered in black powder to represent coal dust.  It's always dreadful [...]."

--Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

I'm going to say three objects and you're going to tell me when and where the story takes place. Ready?

Spurs.  Revolver.  Star-shaped badge.

Obvious, right?  American West, circa 1880s.  The setting of many cowboy movies.
How about three more:

Katana sword.  Green powdered tea.  Silk kimono.

Feudal Japan.  Not hard at all.

But it shows the power of objects and cultural identity.  Say toga and we're in ancient Rome.  Nesting dolls sticks us in Russia.  Heck, even magical objects have cultural implications.  Flying carpets and magic lamps evoke pre-Islamic Saudi Arabia, while 7-league boots and deadly spindles plants us squarely in pre-industrial Europe.

These associations can help or hurt your story.  If you want to set your fantasy story in a specific time and the mention of even a few of these items will immediately paint a picture in the reader's minds.  Food, art, and technology, in particular, show the culture of a society.  Dried deer jerky versus cream puffs, marble statues versus ink scrolls, chariots versus steam trains--each thing very succinctly paints a picture of a time, a place, and a people.

On the other hand, if you want to create your own unique world without any cultural associations, objects can be a problem. How do you show readers that the world is different? There are three main strategies:

1. Mix-and-Match Objects

Let's see the reader try to place a character wearing a kimono, toting a six shooter, and standing near a marble statue.  That will teach the reader to form associations.  Unfortunately, it may also confuse her.

2. Create-Your-Own Objects

The splutok is a clay-based water holder with a rope handle and patterns of pre-Groteal artwork covering the surface.  By creating your own objects, you show the reader that the culture is not of this world.  Unfortunately, not only do you have to spend the time to invent this new object, you now have to slow down the story to explain it to the readers.

3. Intentionally Vague Objects

The girl sits on the comfortable sitting object, holds the writing object, and writes on a flat writing surface.  The less specific the object, the greater the chance of it being universal and thus not tied to a particular time and place.  But if your objects are too vague, the reader loses a lot of the imagery and thus the joy in the story.

Now, I realize my examples are all exaggerated and sort of ridiculous.  Hey, I like to have fun, too.  But I don't want you to think that these strategies don't work.  They do.  They just need to be employed with a deft and subtle hand.

For example, when you mix and match cultures, take into account the setting.  Fans make more sense in hot, muggy environments than in arctic ones.  A few strange, magical, and important objects show you're in a different world.  If the splutok is used in an important religious ceremony that will play a crucial role in the plot, the reader may be more inclined to read a long description.  Otherwise, opt for general objects: dress, chair, pen, soup, wine.  Oh sure, you can embellish them with adjectives.  The Artrukian silk dress, the famed plum wine of Chial.  As long as the readers can visualize the noun, you should be okay.

* * *

Thus far, I've been discussing objects in relation to cultural identity.  But it can also apply to the individual.

Now, I'm going to play the same "three object" game, but with people instead.  I want you to guess the name of the person based on some objects.  Tell me who has:

Glasses.  A magic wand.  An invisibility cloak.

Too easy?  How about:

A magic ring.  A glowing sword.  A (distinct lack of) pocket handkerchief.

Okay, so Harry Potter and Bilbo Baggins are famous, iconic fantasy figures.  Even so, you were able to guess them based on three objects, weren't you?

Why do we want to chose our own clothes?  Why do we want to decorate our house in the way we want?  Why do we take a glance at a person's clothes or nose through their house and draw certain conclusions about them?  Objects have power to reflect a person's identity.  Even objects chosen on a whim.  Wear dragonfly earring everyday and people will associate those earrings with you.

What does this mean for you?

It means that a few well-chosen objects can act as a shortcut to the character's identity.  A main character, of course, will have loads and loads of objects.  But a minor character with a single memorable object will also stick in people's minds.

* * *

Writing Prompt

Your hero roots through the corpses of his enemy for supplies.  All the enemy look the same--similar faces, similar clothing, similar supplies.  Then, suddenly, your hero opens an enemy's pack and finds a single object that makes him stop dead in his tracks.  When he sees this object, he realizes that his enemy was a real person, not some faceless monster.

What is this object?  Why does it affect your hero so much?

* * *

Magical Objects

"One day [a hobgoblin] was in a high state of delight because he had invented a mirror with this peculiarity, that every good and pretty thing reflected in it shrank away to almost nothing.  On the other hand, every bad and good-for-nothing thing stood out and looked its worst. [...] All the scholars in the demon's school [...] reported that [...] now for the first time it had become possible to see what the world and mankind were really like."

--Hans Christian Andersen, "The Snow Queen"

Admit it.  This was the part you were really interested in.

I hardly need to explain why magic is awesome.  It just is.  On the one hand, it can bring your every desire to life.  Things you can regain what you lost, you can do they impossible, you can master skills in a flash.

Things We Desire

• Power over Nature (water, fire, wind, lightning, earth)
• Power over People (having them like you, protection against harm or disloyalty)
• Power over the Supernatural (bringing the dead to life, speaking to ghosts, visions of the future)
• Mastery of a Particular Skill
• Wealth
• Transformation (controlled shapeshifting)
• Communication (telepathy, speaking to animals, speaking different languages)
• Youth and Rejuvenation
• Flying
• Invisibility
• Healing
• Knowledge
• Love

But on the other hand, magic can represent everything we fear, especially the things which are not necessarily solid or material.  It can manifest horrible losses, it can mar the soul, it can turn us into what we most hate.

Things We Fear

• Power (used against us)
• Loss of Loved Ones
• Loss of Identity
• Loss of Soul
• Loss of Freedom
• Loss of Respect
• Pain
• Poverty
• Sickness
• Deception
• Transformation (uncontrolled, monstrous)
• Ugliness/ Disability/ Age 
• Death

All this awesome power comes packed inside an ordinary, everyday item, usually something small enough to pick up.  Though the object can be anything, it usually comes fraught with some sort of symbolic power.  Things that bind, things that reflect, things that speak in some unconscious way to our soul.

Ordinary Objects

• Mirror
• Paper (books, scrolls)
• Clothes and Shoes (cape, belt, slippers, boots)
• Jewelry (rings, amulets, necklace, gemstones)
• Plants (dried herbs, nuts, mushrooms)
• Masks
• Cups, Bowls, Spoons
• Dolls 
• Game Pieces (dice, chess pieces, cards)
• Musical Instruments (pipe, drum, bell)
• Keys
• Weapons and Armor (sword, bow, shield, helmet)
• Candles and Lamps

Put the dread and desire of magic into one of these unassuming objects and you have the beginning of a story.

Just the beginning, of course.  Though the object may be fascinating in and of itself, what people really want to see is how the character uses the object, or, if he doesn't use it at all, why not?  The relationship between the character and the magical object may prove significant.  In order to develop it, ask yourself some of these question.

1. To begin with, how did your character get a hold of it?

Created it
Gift
Found it
Bought it
Earned it
Stole it
Traded for it
Other

2. Does he actually know what the object does?

Yes--completely
No, not at all
Thinks he does but is wrong
Knows some aspects of the magic but not the whole thing

3. Does it take any skill to master it?

Yes
No

4. Can only certain kinds of people use it?  (Pure-hearted, wizards, members of a certain bloodline, etc.)

Yes
No

5. Does the object have a limitation?

Yes--can only be used during certain times (full moon, before midnight)
Yes--limited quantity (only three wishes)
Yes--needs magic words/ rituals (must blow three kisses)
Yes--delicate/ can be broken
Yes--dependent on the physical/ mental/ spiritual state of person using it
Yes--other
No

6. Is there a cost to using it?

Yes--stated up front
Yes--hidden
No

7.  Is the object good or evil?

Good
Evil
Neutral

As you answer these questions, you should start to think of what kind of dilemma this object can cause the character.  Rarely is it satisfying for a magical item to swoop in and solve the character's problems.  There should be a conflict.

* * *

Now up until now, I've been treating the magical object as though it has a deep connection to the heart of the story.  But sometimes magical objects just pop up for convenient's sake.  Magic is like technology.  Sometimes we get airplanes and atomic bombs.  Other times we get velcro and flashlights.

Remember back in the survival section how I said you could use magic to cheat.  Well, here we are.

If you don't want your character lugging around 50 pounds of equipment and if you've created a world where magic is fairly common, you can use select magical objects to make the trip easier for him.  For example, a cloak that keeps your character dry no matter the weather.  A quiver that never runs out of arrows.  A piece of paper that automatically draws perfect maps.

The possibilities are endless.

Favorite Cheat Magical Objects

• Tables that always fill with food
• Purses that never run out of money
• Bread that fills your stomach with a single bite
• Boots that take you seven leagues with a single step
• Walnut shells that store ball gowns

The danger of cheat objects is that it creates what I like to call the RV paradox.  Sure, you can bring an RV into the woods, complete with T.V. and all the comforts of home, but at what point do we start to miss the point of going camping?  Magic can be a nice short cut every once in a while, but too many shortcuts and you suck out all the risk, struggle, and danger.

So when do you use magical cheats?  When the characters actually need them.

Look at The Hobbit versus The Lord of the Rings.  Bilbo didn't get magical lembas bread that filled his stomach with a single bite, because going on an adventure--being uncomfortable and hungry--was the whole point of the book.  Frodo, on the other hand, had to carry a magical ring that was corrupting his soul through an enemy war zone while being hunted by flying ghosts with poisonous swords.  Not starving to death along the way was the least they could do for him.

* * *

Writing Prompt

It's a dragon scale, or so your friend claims.  Blue and bold, with serrated edges, and large as your head.  After the knight killed the beast, your friend blunted three knives to pry it off.  On the dragon, the scale had been green, but once plucked, it turned a mystical blue.

"Proof," your friend says, "Of magic."

"All right," you reply, handing the scale back.  "It's magic. But what does it do?"

What does it do?  Finish the story.

Dissecting Fantasy: Objects, Part 1

Objects, Magical and Mundane

Part I

How selective use of objects can enhance a fantasy (or non-fantasy) novel

Sources: The Night Circus (fantasy) by Erin Morgenstern, Mutant Message From Down Under (nonfiction/ travel) by Marlo Morgan, Into the Wild (nonfiction/ travel) by Jon Krakauer, Warriors: A Visual History of the Fighting Man (reference) by R. G. Grant, Mistborn (fantasy) by Brandon Sanderson

A Treasure Box

"The finished clock is resplendent.  At first glance it is simply a clock, a rather large black clock with a white face and silver pendulum. [...] But that is before it is wound.  [...] First the color changes in the face, shifts from white to grey, and then there are clouds that float across it, disappearing when they reach the opposite side. [...] At the center, where a cuckoo bird would live in a more traditional timepiece, is the juggler."

--Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus

When I was a kid, I had an old photo box stuffed with my own personal treasures. I thought that if the house ever caught on fire, I could take the box and run out the front door; therefore, I chose with great care the objects that would represent my past.

Stumbling upon my treasure box in the shed some years later, I was sort of amazed by the paraphernalia that made the final cut.  Some things made sense, like my oldest hand-written diary  entries and the gold musical locket my grandma gave me.  Then there was a mini photo album of my best friend and I picking kumquats, a half of a heart made of masking tape, and a random sticker of teddy bear ballerinas.  As I picked each one up, I felt a sentimental squeeze in my heart.  Whether or not I understood the meaning, these were my treasures.

As humans, we love objects and invest a good deal of feeling into them.  So when you write a book, objects take on a significant role.  They can personify a character or act as a symbol of a relationship.  They can move the plot along.  They can represent an entire culture.

But never forget that sometimes we like objects just because we like them.  An interesting object lovingly described can hold your reader's attention as well as any fight scene or moment of poignant drama.  And in fantasy, where nothing is limited by real rules, enchanted objects trigger the imagination and send your reader floating into new realms.

Choose It, Use It, Lose It

"A young woman came to me holding a plate full of rocks.  [...] Ooota at me very seriously and said, 'Choose a rock.  Choose it wisely.  It has the power to save your life.' "

--Marlo Morgan, Mutant Message from Down Under

Writing fantasy can be like going on a shopping spree.  You can pick out anything you like and fill whole rooms with treasures.  Dragon hoards.  Castles.  Bazaars.  Museums.  The power of these places come from the sheer delight in so many objects to look at, smell, and hold.  By all means, go a little crazy.

Just remember that very few of these objects will actually amount to very much value.  As a writer, you must choose only a few prominent items for each of your characters to use within the confines of the story.

Notice I say you get to choose--not necessarily the character.  After all, the character might be exiled from the village with little more than the clothes on his back and a few oddities in his pockets.  It's up to the writer to decide what clothes and what oddities he has.  Likewise, the character might stumble upon useful items in the woods.  For him, it's a matter of luck.  For the writer, it's a carefully planted plot twist.

What the character does get a say in is how he utilizes the objects he has.  As a rule of thumb, the more creative, inventive, and resourceful he can be, the more interesting the character will be.  That's why imposing limits can be a good thing. If he, for example, has only a string and a bent nail in his pocket, can he make a fishing line?  Can he use his cap to gather berries?  Can he collect rainwater using his wooden shoe?

It's always fun to see things used in different ways than intended.  The same goes with magic items.  Can they be used in two, three, four, five different ways.  Can they be combined with other objects to make something entirely new?

Maybe your character will start off unfamiliar with the objects on which he pins his survival, but ultimately, he should gain mastery of his tools.  Once he does, you can make things interesting by taking his objects away.

Sometimes a characters will lose the items they're familiar with.  Sometimes magical wands break.  Sometimes quantities of healing potion are depleted.  Sometimes bad guys steal the mystical sword of awesome.  Sometimes the all-knowing compass leads you in the wrong direction. Sometimes you accidentally leave your book of spells on the train.

The point is, you can never fully 100% rely on objects, either to be with you when you need them or to do the job like they're supposed.  And that's a good thing.  Because characters are more than the things they have.  Start taking away their objects and their true nature comes out.  Can they adapt in time?  Can they fix what's broken?  Will they keep their cool or panic?

Now, I don't mean you have to send your hero naked and unarmed against the monster of doom. You need tools to get the job done.  That's fine.  But taking them away is a great way to create conflict and keep the readers in suspense.

* * *

Writing Prompt

In junior high, while studying voyages to the new world, my history teacher asked us to write an essay on the following question: If you were going on an overseas voyage and could only pick three objects, what would they be? (Mine would be a fat journal and pen--that counts as one--letters from my family and friends and a book--probably Ender's Games, if I could just choose one.)

Apply this to your characters.  If they had to leave home forever and could only pick three things to take with them, what would they be?  Would they choose them for practical purpose?  For comfort?  For sentimental reasons?  For psychological necessity?  Now, will you, as the author, actually let them have these things?  If not, how does it affect your character?  Do they try to replace these things with other comforts?

* * *

Objects in Survival

"Alex admitted that the only food in his pack was a ten-pound bag of rice.  His gear seemed exceedingly minimal for the harsh conditions of the interior [...].  Alex's cheap leather hiking boots were neither waterproof nor well insulated.  His rifle was only a .22 caliber, a bore too small to rely on if he expected to kill large animals[...]. He had no ax, no bug dope, no snowshoes, no compass.  The only navigational aid in his possession was a tattered state road map he'd scrounged at a gas station."

--Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

By and large, most of the objects you come across in everyday life are exceedingly practical.  We put very little value in the stapler or the potato peeler until we lose it or it breaks.  Then we huff out a sigh and buy a new one.  It's the same thing for writing a book.  We don't realize what the character need until suddenly they need it.  Then, with a growl of frustration, we re-write the last few pages to mention the item we forgot.

All that's fine if your character is sitting in the midst of civilization and can easily get a hold of anything he needs.  But fantasy stories are not exactly known for their sedentary natures.  Characters go on adventures, tramp through the wilds, and find themselves in new and strange objects.  They might not be able to page through their junk drawer or go to the 99 cents store.  They'd better have the items they need at the start.

In which case the story becomes a little like planning a camping trip or traveling overseas.  You'd better make sure the character has everything he needs to start with.

But what kinds of things do they need to survive?  Fantasy stories may take place in modern times, but they might also take place in older times, in which case you aren't going to have access to modern technologies like matches and plastic.  Even if you do have those technologies, how many of us actually know what objects we need to survive and how to use them?

Here's my own casual list of wilderness survival items:

• Food, Means of Getting Food, Means of Preparing Food (jerky, biscuits, salt, herbs, pots and pans, knife, utensils, fishing gear, basket/ bag for gathering wild fruits and vegetables)
• Canteens and Water Purification Method (pot for boiling water, tea leaves, coffee, alcohol)
• Clothing (boots, cloak, hat, gloves, armor)
• Hygiene (soap, shaving kit, brush, toothbrush)
• Medicine (bandages, disinfectants, insect repellant)
• Map/ Compass
• Light/ Heat (candles, lantern, flint/ matches, oil)
• Shelter (tent, blanket)
• Weapon, for food and protection, and Means of Maintaining Weapon
• Personal/ Psychological Objects (journal, religious text, letters from home, games, musical instruments )
• Other (sewing kit, rope, axe,)
• Means of Holding Objects (knapsack, backpack, saddle bag, belt)

But these are general things.  How do you narrow figure out specific items?

I, personally, like to steal from history.  (Note my interest in A Soldier's Pack in my Civil War blogs.)  I grew up on the Oregon Trail and Laura Ingalls Wilder.  Half the time, I just think back to all that pioneering goodness and steal objects willy-nilly.

Lately, I've been interested in looking at soldiers, who have to pack light.  Some sections of R. G. Grant's Warriors: A Visual History of the Fighting Man (a DK book) show what soldiers throughout history traveled with while on campaign.  For example, an American rifleman fighting in the Revolutionary War would carry with him:

• a pewter mug
• a wooden food bowl
• a salt horn
• a bone-handled fork
• a wooden spoon
• a tin cup, which could be used for cooking as well as drinking
• a swiggler (a tiny wooden barrel for spirits)
• a white canvas bag to carry it all in

Or look at survival fiction or non-fiction to see how people manage under trying circumstances.  There's a ton of survival shows on cable.  I personally like to watch Survivorman while doing the dishes.

The amount of research you decide to do, is up to you.  But having at least some idea of how people survive does add elements of realism to a story.

The more objects your character has to haul around, the heavier his pack becomes, the less able he is to fight and the slower the trip.  So you need to figure out ways of carrying the supplies (via horses or some other beast of burden) or keeping the amount of items on his person to a minimum. Towns, inns, farms, and other pockets of civilization are useful, because here your character can re-supply.  If he's less scrupulous, he can steal.

If your character has intimate knowledge of the terrain and it happens to be summer/ early fall, he can simply live off the land.  Or a large party of travelers can share the supplies--one person brings the cooking pot and knives, another one holds the medicine, a third carries the map and books, etc.

Of course, you can always use magic to cheat, but I'll get to that later.

Thus far, I've assumed your character is going off into the woods to survive.  But maybe he's not--maybe the whole story takes place in the city.

Here you have access to whatever you want, depending on the resources of the civilization or the wealth of the character.  Even a poor person, begging or going through the garbage, can usually find food, clothes, and various broken objects.

Survival objects will most likely be tools of the trade.  A peasant will have his plough and sickle.  A tailor will have needles and threads.  A warrior will have his weapons and armor.  And so on and so forth.

Even those ply magic may have perfectly ordinary objects they use in their trade.  In Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn, for example, certain individuals are able to "push" metal objects of lesser weight than themselves; they carry around ordinary coins and send them spraying like bullets.  More generically, fortune-tellers have their tarot decks and crystal balls, while potion-makers have their cauldrons and bottles.  Mixing magic and non-magic objects can be perfectly charming and fun.

* * *

Writing Prompt

Ever heard of  "For Want of a Nail..." ? It goes like this:

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the message was lost.
For want of a message the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

You can try your own "For Want of a Nail" and imagine how your character loses a single item and how it leads to a disaster.  Or, inversely, you can have your character gain one small item and imagine how that leads to something wonderful.

* * *

And that's all the time we have for this week.  Stay tuned next week for the continuation: "Objects in Identity" and "Magical Objects."