Genre-Bending and Other Daring Endeavors

If you haven’t seen it, I recommend it (if you can find it anywhere). It’s creative and funny and far more psychologically complex than most animated series even dream of being. Just don’t go yet; stick around for a minute so I can explain why I brought it up at all. 😊

The world of the series was divided into four sections: Earth, Water, Air, and Fire. Certain people born into each region have the capacity to “bend” their native element – to manipulate it according to their will or needs. Once a generation, an Avatar is born, someone with the ability to bend all the elements. It’s his/her job to shepherd the balance of the universe and all that jazz.

What I am up to with The Ancient is a bit of literary genre-bending.

And I’m not just trying to master one genre, learning its rules so it will cooperate with me in spinning this tale. No; in true overachiever fashion, I’ve taken three genres and decided to Avatar the heck out of ’em. I’m calling it “historical theological fantasy”.

I have no doubt that this has been done before, but I haven’t come across anything quite like it yet. Think lots of The Silmarillion with hints of Percy Jackson, Doctor Who, the Redwall series, and Lewis’s space trilogy thrown in.

(I am just now realizing that I basically took a bunch of my favorite things and smooshed them together. #winning)

In my recent post, “Myth Matters”, I meditated on the enduring importance of myth. Two weeks ago, I reflected on the truth that the future must grow out of the past: we can only prevail by recognizing that we are standing “On Giant’s Shoulders”. My new genre-bending novel is my Tolkienian attempt to leap from the giant’s shoulders and rewrite mythology, providing my own explanation for the fantastical creatures that have populated mankind’s collective imagination for centuries. The story proposes that every single mythological beast ever written about belongs to one race, and it is this race that has fostered the artistic and emotional perdurance of humanity.

They are called the Ancients.

To whet your whistle, here is a small portion of the account of their existence, as told by the Faithful and the Last:

     Light came first: spoken into existence, out of the void, by the Maker. And with the Light – from the Light – came the Ancients.
     They were called out of Light to be vessels of Light, living conduits of the Light of creation. All were called together out of the Light; and then, after the Calling, there came the moments of Making. One by one, the Maker spoke a Name; and, when each Ancient heard the Name that he or she knew in their spirits to be their own, they stepped forward, out of the Light, into the Circle. As each stood in the center, surrounded by their fellow Ancients and by the Light, the Messengers descended into the Circle and spoke a verse over that Ancient – words from the mind of the Maker. . . .
     The Name, and the verse: this was the Making of every Ancient, giving each a unique charge in the shared responsibility of cultivating the Light. Most Makings were clear and easily comprehensible, the Name and the verse fitting smoothly together into a well-defined plot of the universal garden; some, like the Last’s, were dim and faintly troubling, hinting at a future when preservation – not just cultivation – would be needed.
     The Ancients had little time, however, to ponder the future implications of their Makings. For, after the Ancients, the Maker brought forth the rest of creation, and the rapidly burgeoning Light required the labor of every one of the Ancient host. They marveled, and rejoiced, and tended the new and vibrant Light with delighted care.
     Last of all, the Maker brought forth Humankind. . . .  
     The Ancients walked with Humankind, and knew them, and were known by them. Humankind took the Ancients for Messengers at first; but, when they learned the differences between the two kinds – both of substance and vocation – they rejoiced at the bountiful genius of the Maker, and all hearts were glad. Humankind named each Ancient with a special title fitting to their shape, and told tales of them. Their true Names – the Names by which the Maker had called each into the Circle – were known only to the Ancients themselves, and to the Messengers.
     Soon, the Ancients were sent out, each to their own station. The Deep, whom Humankind named Leviathan, went to the oceans; the Wise, called Dragon, to the swamps; the Unicorn, whose true Name was the Pure, to the plains; the Griffin, or Faithful, to the mountains. Wherever they went, they carried with them their true Name and its charge. They labored throughout the world, cultivating the Light and teaching Humankind to do the same in and through the care of creation. All was well, for a time.
     Then came the Wasting.

Intrigued? I hope so. I certainly am. I think I’ll toddle over to my working draft and try to sharpen my bending skills so I can get the rest of the story to you in a timely fashion.

While you’re waiting, why not ponder on what you can “bend” today? Culinary bending is fun. So is agri-blending (aka gardening), and multimedia art, and astute financial acumen, and computer wizardry, and ultimate ninja-ing (aka parenting). Go be daringly and unapologetically creative.

Or you could just watch Avatar.