The (Hopefully Decreasing) Divide Between Science Fiction and Fantasy

Big Break Studios posted a blog recently about genre busting, and that got me thinking about the interesting divide between science fiction and fantasy.

Fantasy and science fiction fans have an oddly antagonistic side.  I think part of this is due to what makes fantasy and science fiction fun.  Who was the best Doctor? Which craft would win in a race? Which craft would win in a fight? Which character would win in a fight?

It wasn’t until I really started finding my stride as an author that I noticed this strange habit of fans of one genre not appreciating the other. How big is it? How prevalent? I don’t know, big enough to notice? Anecdotally, for every fan I hear that screams at the other genre, I hear another that just enjoys a good story. The inspiration from this post is that the very fact that these two genres aren’t more closely linked surprises me.

So I thought I’d sit down and talk about the largest areas of contention.  NOTE: All of this is anecdotal, I’m curious if anyone has a more analytical example.

Possible vs Impossible: The Science in Science Fiction.

Speculative science is the heart of any science fiction novel. A science fiction writer is bound by unwritten contract between himself and his readers (I’m a guy, so I’m using the male personal pronoun). Things have to have rules. There must be an explanation for how, scientifically, this story is plausible.  I actually FIRST encountered this in high school science. The teacher was quite admit about disproving any and every science fiction movie out there. As he continued to dispute each movie, I couldn’t help but realize he must have ACTUALLY watched them. Weather he did that just to disprove it or enjoy it is really more of a personal issue, but the point is he watched them. Brandon Sanderson mentioned a discussion he’d had on a panel regarding magic systems and then released his “Laws” on magic.  This brings me to the point of contention:

Science fiction fans want a plausible, scientific reason to justify the possibility of the story. Fantasy fans want a sense of wonder. Feel free to argue and debate this point, but I’ve already said this evidence is anecdotal and these opinions are mine. It’s also my opinion that the reason science fiction fans demand plausibility is the very fact that they want to believe this story could happen. One (fantasy) is about escape where the other (scifi) is about hope.  (And let the debate on that assertion begin).

I don’t really care about this particular sticking point, as I believe both genres do what matters most: They show readers who they can be, if only…If only we strive to travel the stars, we could learn so much more. If only, to me, means nothing more than, “when we.”

I know neither of this are either of the ships I mentioned, but I fear copyright in some cases.

Try this experiment:  Go to a convention. Find a pair arguing about weather the Falcon could beat the Enterprise in a space battle.  Go to them and explain it doesn’t matter because a team of dragon riders from Pern could take them both down at the same time. Before they get going. Make sure you specify that these “dragons” are in reality nothing more than genetically enhanced alien lizards that evolved through cloning and gene modifications.  Call this your control group.

Then, go do the same thing with another pair of fans, but don’t explain the genetic modification tools.  Try not to laugh as this pair of individuals debating the military characteristics of non-existent spacecraft looks you in the eyes and says, “it doesn’t matter because dragons aren’t real.”  I’ve done this experiment, but I failed to avoid laughing. I’m sometimes a petty person.

Most of the derision I see across these genres comes from that particular fissure in the genre planet. A few authors are doing fantastic things, and that’s inspired me. What if fantasy authors worked a little harder to make their magic plausible? What if science fiction authors worried a little less about how possible things are? I have two projects in the works that I think pay tribute to both genres. They’re primarily fantasy in terms of marketing but when I can explain something scientifically, I do. The magic systems in each project (Perception of War, the series Sojourn in Despair comes from, is one of them) is fairly hard (if you subscribe to Sanderson’s First Law).

I think there’s a trick to that though. That trick is commitment to your core genre. You want to avoid Deus Ex Machina whenever possible. A story that ends on an overly convenient plot device, regardless of genre, isn’t going to go over well with the fans.  But this divide I’m discussing, I think, comes more from this assertion:

Fantasy fans are more willing to suspend disbelief than science fiction fans.

So, if you’re writing fantasy, I wouldn’t recommend taking three chapters to dissect your magic system right up front. Fantasy readers usually stop at, “Guy can fly.” It’s wonderful to weave in a few explanations of powers as the story progresses, especially if that ability is going to be the key to saving the universe (see Sanderson’s First Law). Science fiction fans demand more details. They’ll want to understand how things are possible sooner, and are therefore more willing to accept large data chunks in the story early on, (accept and larger are dangerously unspecific terms).

What are your thoughts? Which side of the line do you fall under?  Also, I meant what I said. A wing of dragon riders of Pern, and I’d argue a single dragon like Ruth or Mnementh could take out both starships. Seriously.

Thanks for reading,

Matt

Deus Ex Machina: When Magic Solving Problems Causes Problems

Possibly the biggest opponent to fantasy and science fiction is the concept of Deus Ex Machina.  literarydevices.net gave a description of the term, but I’d like to add to that.  When something arises that the reader isn’t prepared for to resolve the conflict, the reader will be unsatisfied with the ending.  Let’s be honest, as readers, we WANT to believe the ending is plausible.  We’ll take some pretty hanky explanations as background or foreshadowing.

Image from The Two Towers used for educational use and review under Fair Use Doctrine. 

In The Two Towers, Gandalf basically said, Just hold off for three days and I’ll come kill whatever bad guys are left.  They fought for three days. Gandalf saved the day. No one batted an eyelash.

I’ve been speaking with Quintessential Editor about his book, editing mine, and outlining Sojourn in Despair.  That means I’ve been talking about magic systems like crazy.  Corey and I were talking about it, and I’d mentioned Sanderson’s Laws of Magic. I’m telling you, if you haven’t read these, and you write fantasy, stop writing and read this. It’s a solid group of guidelines.   Sanderson’s First Law is, “An author’s ability to solve conflict with magic is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic.”

I love fantasy. I love Sanderson’s work in particular.  The reason I love it though is because it has a sense of wonder. Bad fantasy destroys that sense of wonder with a sense of impossibility.    So when I read that law, I translate that to mean, “The better the reader understands the magic of the world, the more likely he’s going to accept that magic solved the problem.”

In The Journals of Bob Drifter, I took great care easing the reader into the magic system.  Some say I took too much care. But I take a great amount of satisfaction from the fact that no one has (as of yet) complained that the ending was too easy.  I spent some 110,000 words building up a villain that seemed unstoppable.  But as Grimm was doing dastardly things, I was explaining through a few characters how his power worked while also explaining how Bob’s power worked.  I feel if I hadn’t have done both, people would have called me out.  Actually, I was more concerned the reader would discover the trick too soon.  If that’s happened, no one said so yet. If you’ve read the book feel free to comment below regarding your thoughts.

I’m wracking my brain trying to determine a book that really failed at this. I’m sure it’s out there, and I’m sure I’ve read it, but I can’t honestly recall. But how do you prevent it?  Should you?

Should you?  Well, not necessarily.  (OK, you should TOTALLY prevent Deus Ex Machina, but you don’t always need a magic system which requires a degree in physics to understand).  Refer to the rule.  “An author’s ability to SOLVE conflict….”

What if you wanted to CAUSE it? Children’s, and young reader fantasy stories do this a lot.  No one sweeps in and saves the day with magic, but quite often magic is the cause of the problem.  I’d argue this is the case with Lord of the Rings.  Magic is far more responsible problems than it is solutions (Gandalf’s rescue included).  So…if you’re working on a story where magic is getting thrown around like crazy and all it does is make life miserable for the characters, GO FOR IT!  I don’t care how the magic system works.  It’s magic!

But what if the man is going to rely on magic?  Well then, the degree with which that magic is going to be relied upon must be that understood by the reader.  Here are a few things I try to do to avoid the problem.

One:  If Three is Good Enough for Tolkien, it’s good enough for me:  I consider this the LEAST an author can do.  I use this with foreshadowing and magic plot devices.  I make sure to mention the “trick” at least three times.  (Free autographed copy of my book if you can name the three instances I did this in The Journals of Bob Drifter.)

Two: The Mentor Magic Learning Montage:  I’m less and less a fan of this every time I see it and use it.  In 1,200, I took the mentor away JUST to avoid this.  Inevitably in most fantasy sagas, there’s the “mentor” who appears JUST as the guy develops his power.  How handy he shows up just in time to teach the guy how to become the hero.  It’s a common thing and not really a “sin” in writing. I’ve just personally grown tired of it.  (Though I did use a mentor archetype in New Utopia.  Even then, I added a twist just to be different.)  What this mentor can do is teach the user, and through him the reader, how the magic system works.  In these types of stories, there’s usually a “hint” (see above) at how something thought impossible could happen.  Or at least they do this next trick.

Three: Hang a Lantern:  When the character does something impossible, and another character goes, “How could that be!” The reader gets a clue that this is an intentional thing.  Then calmly waits for the explanation on how that should happen.  If you use this, you NEED to explain that later in the story.

Four:  Internal Dialogue:  This is the last one I use.  I used it most in 1,200, but I like it because it’s different.   The author can use conflict and internal dialogue to express learned experiences and ideas.  You can use the point of view of another character as well.  In New Utopia, one of my upcoming books, the hero, Wilum, does something impressive.  His mentor character (mentioned above) notices, then considers how it was done.  You actually see this quite a lot in Anime.

How do you avoid Deus Ex Machina?  Do you have a trick I don’t know about?  Please share it.

Thanks for reading,

Matt