Category Archives: The Writing Life

The Inevitability of Myth

Guest Post by Gregory D. Little

Greg Little

 

The human brain craves stories at a fundamental level.  In fact, it’s the world’s most prolific writer, constantly stringing together chains of perceived events in ways that both flatter and preserve itself.  I’m not just saying that because I find it a flattering thought as a writer (though the irony is not lost on me).  Science supports the claim.  Modern psychology and neuroscience have uncovered hosts of mental biases and fallacies humans engage in constantly.  David McRaney’s amateur psychology blog (and book) You Are Not So Smart explores such topics as Confirmation Bias (where you selectively and subconsciously only notice evidence that corroborates your existing world view while ignoring all evidence to the contrary) in entertaining detail.  In Cordelia Fine’s wonderful book A Mind of Its Own, Fine demonstrates how the human brain constantly rewrites our perception of reality in order to construct only the most flattering of self-images.  And if you are thinking to yourself “Well, other people might do that, but I don’t,” then I hate to tell you, but you are doing it right now.

I realize this may seem to have little to do with a blog about writing and myths, but bear with me, I’ll get there.   Most of these mental fallacies and biases are heuristics, or short-cuts we use to cut corners with our mental processing.  The brain uses a lot of energy.  Over the generations it has developed these short-cuts as a way to save precious calories for better use elsewhere, like running away from that tiger that has been eyeing you.  In days past, it didn’t matter if you understood the complex nuances of a situation perfectly if taking the time and energy to do so got you eaten.  Most of the time an 80% solution was enough.

That leads directly into the second reason the human mind loves stories, that of self-preservation.  The brain is constantly looking for meaning and agency in things it observes.  The reason is simple.  Using our tiger example again, if the bushes behind you suddenly rustle, most of the time it’s just the wind.  A random event, not terribly interesting.  But on the off chance it’s your tiger friend preparing an ambush, maybe you’d better run just in case.  Our most successful ancestors found meaning in things that lacked meaning (another way to put this might be finding narrative where none exists) because doing so was a lot less dangerous than not finding narrative and attributing the rustling to random wind.  Because when you’re wrong on something like that, you don’t get another chance to be right.

So the human brain craves stories both for its own flattery and to keep itself alive.  Is it any wonder we love to lose ourselves in a good narrative, particularly one in which we know we aren’t going to be eaten by the tiger?  But how does this relate to myth?  In my view, myths are the combination of these two basic elements in their purest form.  Myths are the stories, the narratives we invented to explain the world around us while we still lacked the scientific framework we make use of today.  Myths are also the legends we passed down through the generations that show humanity at its best.  Myths feature noble heroes fighting wicked monsters, bad people getting their just desserts and children who fail to listen to their parents getting eaten by the wicked witch.  Has there ever been a purer metaphor for the existential terror every parent feels for the safety of their child than some of those old cautionary tales?

The world is never as simple as myth depicts it.  Real heroes are always flawed and always disappoint us when those flaws become public.  Sometimes bad people don’t get punished and good people do.  Earth is not sitting on the back of a giant turtle.  Life is complicated, but we crave simplicity.  We want black and white answers to moral dilemmas.  We yearn for incorruptible heroes and villains as easy to discern as Lord Voldemort.  We demand a universe that conforms to our very limited capacity for metaphor and common sense.  Myths show us the world as we wish it was.  For these reasons and more, the creation of myths was and will continue to be inevitable.  As writers, we would be fools not to consider that when we sit down at our keyboards.  These are the stories that have stood the test of time by tapping into deep wells in the human psyche.

In composing this blog, I started thinking about the word “myth” and its multiple connotations.  The meaning I’ve referred to up to now evokes grandiose images and archetypal tales.  But the word “myth” has another connotation, one that means simply “false”.  I said that we would be fools not to consider the power of myths in our writing.  But we would also be remiss in not considering this second meaning of myth.  Because the world isn’t as simple as we wish.  Quite often a mental short-cut isn’t enough, either in writing or in life.  And that realization can carry a power every bit as profound–if not nearly as simple–as that evoked by the myths we love.

*            *            *

Rocket scientist by day, science fiction and fantasy author by night, Gregory D. Little’s short story “The Skylings” will be published in Azure Keep Quarterly in June.  His short fiction has additionally earned a Semi-Finalist and an Honorable Mention in the Writers of the Future short story contest.  He is currently hard at work on his third novel, a YA fantasy.  He lives in Fredericksburg, VA with his wife and their yellow lab.

 

 

The Imaginary Line Between Myth & Legend

 

Welcome to Myth & Legend month at the Fictorian Era!

This month you’ll hear about why we feel drawn to myths and legends, how they are alive and well even in a modern world ruled by science, and how they can and are used to create a more vibrant and realistic world in which our characters live. From ancient Greece to modern conspiracy to vampires, zombies and true love, we Fictorians will be delving into the stories that we grew up on, the stories that keep coming back again and again, the stories that impact our lives even when we don’t know it.

But before we dive into the whys and wherefores, I wanted to spare a moment to talk about something that has always rather bugged me–the importance placed on the truth or falsity of the stories we tell.

 

myth noun 

1 a: a usually traditional story of ostensibly historical events that serves to unfold part of the world view of a people or explain a practice, belief, or natural phenomenon

b : PARABLE, ALLEGORY

2 a: a popular belief or tradition that has grown up around something or someone; especially : one embodying the ideals and institutions of a society or segment of society

b : an unfounded or false notion

3 : a person or thing having only an imaginary or unverifiable existence

 

The above definition comes from the Meriam-Webster online dictionary. Now, the first definition is fairly typical of what most of us view as myth. Yet, look at the second definition. For some reason this expresses myth as being a “popular belief or tradition…embodying the ideals and institutions of a society…” but associates that idea with “an unfounded or false notion”.

For some reason I have yet to figure out, there are people who think that just because something is made up, it is false and therefore has less value (an idea that should be anathema to every fiction writer). There are, for instance, many people who take offense when the idea of “Christian mythology” is brought up. To them, the religious stories of the past are truth.

Legend, on the other hand, has a slightly different perception.

 

leg·end noun

1 a : a story coming down from the past; especially: one popularly regarded as historical although not verifiable

b : a body of such stories <a place in the legend of the frontier>

c : a popular myth of recent origin

d : a person or thing that inspires legends

e : the subject of a legend

 

In the above definition from Meriam-Webster, a legend is really not much different than a myth. In fact, as the above states, a legend comes from the past, which is fairly equivalent to saying it’s traditional, and like the “unfounded or false notion”, a legend is “not verifiable”. So, really, a legend is a type of myth.

Yet, for many people a line is drawn between myth and legend because while a myth is accepted as complete fiction, a legend has some root in real history. For instance, there is historical evidence that there was a real King Arthur running around Britain in the years after the Romans left and the start of the Middle Ages.

But would it really matter if that were true? If there really was a Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest at some point in history, would it make his legend any more powerful a tale? I think everyone pretty much knows the fallacy of “Honest” Abe Lincoln, but does it make him any less a seminal figure in American history that he wasn’t averse to the occasional lie?

The purpose of both myth and legend is to bring sanity to an insane universe, to explain the unexplainable, to give hope to the hopeless, to highlight the best and worst of humanity in order to teach us what it means to be human. This, I think, is why we hold onto them so tightly as to never let them fall into obscurity.

If you think about it, isn’t that the point of all fiction? Aren’t we, as writers, creators of myth and the occasional legend? Yes, our stories may not be carried down through the ages as of yet, but they could be. Heck, I’m sure Shakespeare never thought his plays would still be performed almost half a millennia after he wrote them, but the imaginary lives of Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet have just as much impact as King Arthur and Robin Hood.

Not So Final, After All

For those of us who had video game controllers in our hands at the time, the year 1997 will forever live in infamy. While nary a year goes by that doesn’t make a gamer go squee, that year was significant in that it made gamers feel so much more than mere excitement. They felt anger, sorrow, surprise, frustration, hate, love, and loss-all in the same moment. That moment can be encapsulated in two words.

Aeris Gainsborough.

AerisFor the uninitiated, Aeris (or Aerith in the Japanese version) was one of the playable characters in Final Fantasy VII, one who *SPOILER ALERT* met her tragic end *END SPOILER* in one of the most pivotal moments of gaming history. The reverberations of that scene can still be felt today. The reason it-and the rest of the game-was so significant was because it showed us the storytelling capabilities of video games in spectacular, blindsiding fashion.

Of course, games had stories before then. Earlier entries in the Final Fantasy series, especially VI, are known for depth of characters, but not to the level seen in VII. Until then, game stories for the most part seemed to be little more than window dressing, or at least a well-kept secret. FFVII made storytelling a mainstream expectation.

The impact on me was deep. I was astounded that the state of gaming proceeded from the emotionless and abstract intellectual challenges of games like Tetris to experiences that could move you. Not only had Final Fantasy VII taken me to a world where magic was possible, but a world where the depths of human emotion were plumbed. I have no problem invoking a cliche, because there is no other way to say it: that game was life-changing.

I remember watching the credits roll at the end of that game and setting down my controller, and when I recovered from my several-minutes-long daze, I thought, “Gee whiz, I should write a video game script!”

So that’s exactly what I did.

I knew, then and there, that I would be a video game writer. I was resolved, even as I researched the job and discovered how difficult it was to Aerith Gainsboroughbreak in as games became more cinematic. After finishing what I then deemed my masterpiece, the fabled “Final Fantasy-killer” that gamers have been waiting for without even knowing it, I realized I needed a game plan (sorry – I had to). After all, the game industry doesn’t work quite like movies-writers do not submit scripts that then get turned into games. More often, all the writing gets done while the game is in development by writers who have already proven their mettle. I had to gain some sort of writing credit that would elevate my name into consideration for that unicorn of a job, called game writer.

Hey, why not write a novel?

That was years ago, and prose has since stolen my heart-most of it, anyway. Part of me still yearns to get involved with the medium that set me down this path in the first place. Indeed, I recently signed on to an indie game startup as the writer, though that project has since been put on hiatus. For now, I’ll have to satisfy my creative impulses with writing novels and stories, even though I’ll never forget the love of writing that the Final Fantasy series instilled in me, nor will I forget the flower girl named Aeris who lived in a abandoned church.

Coming Late to Wonder.

I “discovered” Science Fiction and Fantasy later than you might think. Sure, I read all the Dr. Seuss books,  Magic Elizabeth that included a doll who may or may not be magic, and The Bridge To Terabithia, and loved its magic. I read the Lord of the Rings series  and The Hobbit as a hand-me-down book from my brother. I read  Vonnegut as a hand-me-down book from my father. In fact, I still have most of those early Kurt Vonnegut books on my shelf.

But when high school rolled around,  I fell out of love with fantasy. Why? Well, my brother is six years older than I am, and I definitely had younger sibling syndrome. Paul read Stephen King so in sixth grade I picked up my first Stephen King novel – Carrie.  I read almost exclusively horror (I made exceptions for the Star Wars books – little knowing that I would one day be friends with a number of those writers) until my sophomore year of college. I think I read every vampire story published at the time, and those vampires weren’t ones you wanted to take home and cuddle.

River of the Dancing GodsI wrote until my sophomore year in high school. By then I had written a novel to help me move beyond some bad things in my life., and four fan fiction – Battlestar Galactica and A-Team – romance novels. Yes. Dirk Benedict was dreamy.  Le sigh!

Anyway . . . Campfire of America had published one of my short stories. Writing and drawing was part of who I was. But after a bad experience with my then English teacher (which is a topic for another day), I gave up writing. After all, an adult – my English teacher even – had told me that I couldn’t do this.

So, fast forward four years. That college summer I was fortunate enough to work at Bush Gardens, Williamsburg in its Live Entertainment Department. What does that mean? I worked in the theatre running a spot light. One of my friends there was an avid fantasy reader. There’s a lot of downtime between shows. So, he started lending me books. The first one was The River of The Dancing Gods by Jack L. Chalker. If you don’t know the series, it’s well worth checking out. In brief though, Joe, a truck driver, picks up Marge, a hitchhiker. Throckmorton P. Ruddygore–a stranger who met them on a road that wasn’t there–tells them they have 19 minutes before they die in a car accident or, they can come with him to another world over the Sea of Dreams. They chose to go with Throckmorton and get to chose their new forms from, essentially, the Dungeons and Dragon class list. Then things get interesting.  From there I dove into Terry Pratchett’s DiskWolast unicornrld – The Light Fantastic and The Color of Magic.

The other thing that happened that year to reintroduce me to the fantasy genre was I watched The Last Unicorn by Peter Beagle on VHS. For lots of reasons that story became very important to me. When I was checking out the fantasy novels from the Williamsburg, VA public library, I found The Last Unicorn as well. While it’s not my favorite Peter Beagle book – that distinction goes to A Fine and Private Place-, it and River of the Dancing Gods were the one changed how I thought about fantasy novels. Not only could these novels entertain, but they had meaning outside the pages. They could touch the heart and change lives.

I was lucky enough to purchase some of the original animation cels from the movie version of The Last Unicorn from Ebay and other sites. When we moved into our current house almost 13 years ago, I used those cells to paint a mural from the cel of the unicorns running on my sons’ bedroom wall. It was a bit heart breaking IMG_0163when they were no longer “babies” and we had to paint over the unicorns.

Still, it took me some time before I started thinking, “I can do that” again. But the desire to write again took root. I’d find myself day dreaming about worlds that didn’t exist anywhere except my head. While I had a job offer from Bush Gardens for the next summer, I had to turn it down because Mom had moved to Florida for a job needed surgery which would render her somewhat helpless for a few weeks, and Dad’s job kept him in Massachusetts. As life worked out, Dad quit his job and moved to Florida so my help became unnecessary. Dad’s move did let me take the evening shift at Universal Studios, which had just opened. I think I read every science fiction and fantasy book in the Dr. Phillips branch of the Orlando public libraries that summer. Slowly, I was putting together my fantasy world from bits I liked in this story or that one and what I didn’t without even knowing it.  To write in any genre, you have to read extensively. Both inside your genre and outside it. I was doing my research.

It would take years after that summer of Dancing Gods and Last Unicorns before the seeds planted burst into a riot of colors, and I would start writing again. My first magician born a strong resemblance to Schmendrick. My first heroine confronted the same lies to herself that Marge did – what you said you wanted to be versus what you knew in your heart you were.

When I look back and ask myself why I’m a writer, I always come back to that summer in Williamsburg. The epiphany from it was slow in coming, but it did come.