With Artwork by the Wonderful Harry Clarke, Of Course
Certain kinds of stories seem to set their own agendas as far as style is concerned; you ignore the demands of the material at your peril. If you write a story about princesses, dragons and magic rings in the style of Ernest Hemingway, for example, you may have an interesting story, but it is unlikely to feel much like fantasy. — Lisa Tuttle in Writing Fantasy & Science Fiction (2001)
Can simple language be used to effectively tell a Fantasy tale? I wrestle with this every time I write what I consider Sword & Sorcery fiction. My style tends toward the modern, unadorned and fast-moving. I call this “The Curse of Ernest Hemingway” because he is usually acknowledged as the writer who simplified 20th Century diction. F. Scott Fitzgerald also gets credit. Personally, I think it happened in the Pulps with writers like Hammett, Erle Stanley Gardner and Cornell Woolrich, but WHO is not as important as the fact that it happened. Suddenly, wordy meant Victorian, and therefore old-fashioned. Tolkien, Clark Ashton Smith and many earlier writers get dinged for being poor stylists (style being defined by Hemingwayites, of course.)
David Gerrold in Worlds of Wonder: Writing Science Fiction (2001) says:
Your writing style, whatever you choose, whatever you create, whatever you evoke, will determine what effects you can create. Style becomes the flavor of the story … But most of all, the language should always be clear. Short simple sentences convey meaning.
So what to do? How does a writer know when they have evoked enough of the “Fantastic” or if they should just get on with the story? Let’s consider the opening paragraphs of my latest flash-length tale, which I call “The Story of Vorn”. Here is the first draft, simple, unadorned:
The grasslands beyond Akton had a bad reputation. None who ventured into those swaying waves of grass ever returned. No one.
Vorn looked out over the expanses and smiled. He was ready. He had his long sword, Skullcracker, to deal with any skrulkings who might lurk there. (The old folks said there were no skrulls there.) Vorn had his crossbow to ventilate any winged drakons who came from above. His throat was decorated with the claws of such beasts. (The drakons dwelt in the mountains, the old men said.) And in direst measure, Vorn had his enchanted wand, cut from the hand of a undead sorcerer, containing an elder stone of jet black.
My intent was to set up the reputation of the grasslands and establish Vorn as a character. Here is Version Two, what I call the “Poet’s version” with an eye on augmenting the language to create a more vibrant picture. Some readers may find it too elevated, too self-conscious? It certainly slows down the pace:
The wind-grazed grasslands beyond the village of Akton had a bad reputation, one whispered about in dark corners and over glowing campfires. None who ventured into those swaying waves of grass ever returned. No one.
Vorn, the slayer of wolves and warriors, the pillager of palaces and strongholds, looked out over the expanses and smiled. He was ready. He had his long sword, Skullcracker, four feet of razor-sharp steel, to deal with any skrulkings who might lurk there. (The old folks said there were no skrulls there.) Vorn had his crossbow, a weapon so powerful most men could not draw the string into place, to ventilate any winged drakons who came from above. Vorn’s thick throat was decorated with the blackened claws of such legendary beasts. (The drakons dwelt far away in the mountains, the old men said.) And in direst measure, Vorn had his enchanted wand, a rod of blood-ash cut from the hand of a undead sorcerer, containing an elder stone of jet black.
This process of bejeweling can go further and you end up with what I call the “Clark Ashton Smith version”:
The zephyr-blasted moraines beyond the solitary village of Akton had a morose reputation, one whispered about in shadow-filled corners and over coal-glowing campfires. None who ventured into those swaying, monotonous waves of verdure ever returned. No one.
Vorn of the Vroskayne tribe, the slayer of dire wolves and deadly warriors, the pillager of jewel-encrusted palaces and sword-filled strongholds, looked out over the grey-clouded expanses and smiled with grim, scarred lips. He was ready. He had his grandsire’s long sword, Skullcracker, four feet of ebon, razor-sharp steel, to conquer any skrulkings who might lurk in the vertical shadows. (The old grandfathers said there were no skrulls there.) Vorn had his ram-horn crossbow, an engine of death so powerful most men could not draw the elk-gut string into place, to ventilate any winged drakons who came from cloud-scudded skies above. Vorn’s thick throat, a tattooed appendage, cut criss-cross with white scars, was decorated with the desiccated and blackened claws of such legendary beasts. (The drakons dwelt far away in the white-topped mountains, the old men said.) And in direst measure, when all hope was fled, Vorn had his enchanted wand, Shadowcane, a rod of blood-ash hacked from the shrivelled appendage of the undead necromancer, Xàltuun Shu, containing an elder stone, of Kh’rr, a jet black orb the size of a child’s fist.
I would never write in this mode, for me it feels too much like a parody of another writer’s style, but for discussion purposes I wanted to present it. There are times when I think editors want this. They don’t, but I think they do.
Orson Scott Card in How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy (1988) says:
However, there is great danger in trying for elevated diction–primarily because it’s so easy to overdo it or do it very badly. You have to read a lot of brilliantly written formal prose before you’re able to handle it well and there isn’t much of it being written these days…”
It’s well known most editors want stories around 4-5000 words and perhaps even shorter now with Internet publishing. There is only so long people are willing to sit in front of a screen and read. (Though this is increasing now with Kindles, etc.) So if we are shooting for 4000 words (let’s say) then how are you to get all that world-building stuff in and still have room for a story?
