I’m working my way through a collection of books about writing and sharing the results here. Today’s offering: Writing About Magic by Rayne Hall.
This is a concise introduction to writing magic in fiction. With a focus on examples from actual real-world cultures, it is pitched more at those writing paranormal fiction rather than secondary-world fantasy. Hall’s ideal audience is probably someone who enjoys paranormal fiction and wants to try their hand at writing their own story, but is not sure how the magic should work or how to weave it into the story.
Pick up this book if you’re after a smorgasboard of ideas with a focus on traditional presentations of magic and magic-users. Even if you’re looking to develop something more original, there is no harm in getting the lie of the land, and no reason you couldn’t take these ideas and give them your own twist. At $3 for the Kindle edition, it’s not going to break the bank.
That said, before you go ahead and purchase this book, there are a few little issues I might mention…
Who gets to be a magician?
Chapter 1 is about creating a magic-user’s personality. Ms Hall points out that magician characters typically have one or more of the following attributes: intelligence, good memory, creative, self-disciplined and focused, patient, highly trained, specialist, musical, spiritual, studious, well-organised and methodical, introverted, ethical, sharp senses, descended from magicians, psychic, magical day job, and a pet.
As a laundry list of stereotypical magician-y traits, this is pretty spot on, although I query the advice that sticking to this list will improve your story. Won’t it, by definition, give you a stereotypical magician? Might it not be more interesting to mix things up?
Take the British TV series Misfits. The premise of the show is that magical superpowers are bestowed on a bunch of teen offenders with almost the exact opposite of every quality listed by Hall. Thanks to a sharp script and excellent performances, Misfits shines as an example of the value of looking past the stereotypes and treading new ground.
That said, Hall herself poses an astute question about whether the attributes of a magician are similar to the attributes of a writer, and to think about why this might be. (I have an answer, though I’m not sure if it’s the one Hall has in mind.)
Onto Chapter 2. If you write fantasy, it is worth knowing that some readers are looking for an interesting, intricate, and original magic system as a primary feature of a story. Popular author Brandon Sanderson has built a career on showcasing his abilities on this front (and talks about his approach in these essays).
Ms Hall delves straight into some typical terminology and features of magic systems in Western cultures. I’m not sure if she intends it, but this chapter could be equally entitled: did you know that fantasy was traditionally written by privileged white men?
Topic 1: High magic and low magic. High magic apparently brings status and is typically practiced by upper class white men, while low magic practitioners are ‘female, networked with other women, with little education and little time for study, poor and good at making do’. Hall isn’t going to touch that any further except to point it out. Instead she moves straight on to Topic 2: black magic and white magic, a topic obviously not at all loaded with an uncomfortable history of race and Imperialism.
Definitely not going there.
In three paragraphs she sidesteps this giant elephant with: ‘Most real magicians find [the notion of black and white magic] laughable’ (ahahaha <- nervous laughter) and suggests that calling oneself a ‘white magician’ is just done occasionally by cleverly deceptive magicians because it is a ‘good look on business cards’.
I’m not sure what she makes of fantasy’s iconic White magician, Gandalf the White, who inexplicably appears with all New and Improved Whiteness, presumably after Gandalf the Grey popped himself through the spin cycle with some enzyme-powered Omo. Pretty sure Gandalf’s Whiteness was meant to be a straight-up statement of virtue and wisdom. Of course, I could be wrong. Maybe Gandalf was just supposed to be selling snake oil. Maybe after the War of the Ring, Gandalf opened a used horse and cart dealership, and for all that he talked up Shadowfax, the rubbish horse went lame a few days after a gullible customer rode it out of the stables.
(Sidebar: I love Lord of the Rings. It is a cherished piece of my childhood and a masterpiece, but I’m not going to try and pretend it’s perfect. Saruman might have been doing the White Wizard business card thing, but Gandalf was meant to be the real deal. And I know, the whole white/black thing can mean night/day quite apart from the racial connotations. Nevertheless, it is an inescapable feature of the novel that not only are the Good Guys are White and come from the West, and the Bad Guys are Dark and come from the East, and appear with Orientalist trappings.)
Having very carefully not discussed white and black magic, we zip through ceremonial magic, natural magic, religious magic, alchemy, traditional witchcraft, wiccan witchcraft, necromancy, shamanism, ancient Egyptian magic, folk magic, and voodoo. The detail of each is brief, and unhelpfully defined in terms of the aforementioned traditional cultural lens, but is still a great starting point for getting you thinking about different possibilities for magical systems.
Next up: mix and match to create your own magic system. Ms Hall turns to an interesting discussion of terminology. For example, she suggests that ‘warlock’ literally means ‘oath-breaker’ or ‘traitor’, which is an interesting tidbit I hadn’t heard before. More dubiously, she proposes:
‘Witch’ is not a female wizard, and ‘wizard’ is not a male witch. Witches and wizards are practitioners of two very different magic systems.
I can only deduce that Ms Hall’s childhood predated Harry Potter.
That’s pretty much all this book has on creating magic systems, which was disappointing. I would have expected that Designing an Original Magic System 101 would be a core topic to cover in a book on writing about magic. I expected some discussion of basic ideas such as: Don’t make magic a free ride – ensure that there are limitations and costs to using it.
Chapter 3 looks at how your magician acquires their skills or what I might describe as magical pedagogy. (Sidebar: Now I really want to write a short piece called Magical Pedagogy). Harry Potter crops up here but I’m still not convinced she’s read it. Either that or she spent the whole reading experience mumbling: This is outrageous! Witches and wizards are completely different things! Women only get to be underappreciated backyard earth mothers. Who does this Rowling woman think she is?
The take away point from this chapter is that Ms Hall
is really fixated on traditional gender roles doesn’t like characters stumbling into their powers without training.
I know what she’s getting at. Training = effort. The risk of a character obtaining powers without training risks a plot where your characters simply wave a magic wand to make their problems vanish. They don’t earn their dramatic victories. However, sudden power acquisition can work just fine when this does not solve the story’s dramatic problems.
For example, in Carrie by Stephen King, the titular Carrie is untrained in her telekinesis, but she doesn’t need training in order to go ahead and wreak havoc. In the stage musical Wicked!, Elphaba acquires a grimoire which she can instantly and instinctively use, but this makes her situation worse because it makes her a valuable commodity to people who want to control her power for their own ends.
Chapter 4 deals with specific ideas for executing magic, and this is where we glimpse some of the considerations that you might want to build into an original magic system. She looks at potential sources of magical energy, and some rituals, although it would have been good to see some strong original examples of executing magic from contemporary fantasy fiction.
For example, in Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn series, magic is executed by characters consuming and then ‘burning’ controlled quantities of particular metals, which allow interactions solely with metallic objects. Burning one metal allows metal to be pulled towards the user, another allows it to be pushed away, which plays out in the story in some fascinatingly acrobatic fight scenes. There are inbuilt limitations because the needed metals are in limited supply, and most characters only have the capacity to use certain metals.
Another example is the Death Gate Cycle by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, which has two similar magic systems premised on using runes to manipulate the ‘wave of possibilities’ and select an outcome to occur. One system developed by an aggressive warlike culture requires the users to focus their magic through the use runic tattoos on their bodies and small drawn symbols, the other system developed by an artistic culture dance and sing the runes. What works so well in these books is that the magic helps develop and highlight the culture clash which is central to the premise of the novels.
How to look fabulous
Skipping over chapter 5, because this is really just more on executing magic, we come to Chapter 6: Costuming and Equipment.
Here we learn about robes and…
That’s it. Just robes. Ok, robes and nudity. This is not the Vogue of magical fashion. A few accessory suggestions are offered, but they are of the typical wand and crystal variety.
Some new stuff in this chapter, because we get into the language of spellcraft, although not very deeply. She notes the use of alliteration, repetition, assonance, consonance, and meter, and gives some examples, my favourite of which is: Cower, computer! By my command, you shall crash no more!
I could have done with that one the other week.
The rest of it
There are a few more chapters: correspondences, love spells, sex magic (a topic with food for thought like: ‘solo sex magic with masturbation would be more practical, but it has less plot potential’), magical weapons and warfare, healing and protection, illusionists and charlatans, magic in the future, and my favourite, magical ethics.
There is great plot fodder in the magical ethics chapter, from the discussion of the scope of an ethic not to harm anyone with magic, to examples of villainous ethics such as ‘never torture someone on a Sunday.’ How can you put a character’s magical ethical principles to the test? What if they make human mistakes? How does magic change the balance of power in the society? Are magicians known or secret and why?
At the end of the book, there are a couple of examples of Ms Hall’s own fiction. The short story was fun once I got past the criminal amounts of exposition crowded into the dialogue. (Ms Hall has either not encountered Hemingway’s ‘Iceberg Theory’, or cannot resist showcasing the magical system she has developed for the story, even where those details are superfluous.) The excerpt from her novel, Stormdancer, is a much better example of how to draw on your developed magic system in order to incorporate telling details into a scene.
What do you think? Do you have any favourite advice on writing about magic, or favourite examples of stories that do it well?
Image of magical book from Shutterstock / Evgeny Atamanenko.