And So Life Goes On

Shockingly enough, I still exist. I very much miss spending time posting things on my blog, but life has been a bit consuming as of late, what with unpacking and all. I'm actually sitting in the disaster area that is my bedroom at the moment, taking a break from sifting through rather disorganized boxes.

This winter weather has made me desperate for an Imagination Game. It's far too cold outside at the moment to play one, but my head is practically spinning with ideas!

More recently I've been considering our Lore world, and the difficulties that arise from trying to re-weave fairytales and legends in a magic free, more Conservative way. This has been a task I've performed so many times in the past. Though I write fantasy, I do not 'do' magic, which has opened up endless possibilities in finding plausible scientific ways of allowing special powers and non-human races to exist. I enjoy doing this very much, even though it can be a chore sometimes, but I'm also trying to find out where even the scientifically explained powers become just a little to magical in spite of my efforts. In short, I'm finding that not all powers are created equal. One of the things I attempt to avoid is having the characters'/world's powers not end up being too weird, even if they can be explained through biological or chemical means. Because then it's more like magic by another name rather than, say, a biological ability of a certain race.

We have turned wizards and witches into alchemists and healers, given limited biological abilities to fairies, pixies, sprites, and brownies, and turned some ancient gods and goddesses into humans with regeneration abilities and vast knowledge of history called Nimues. So you see, we've rewoven and toned down things I personally would find objectionable in a story or Imagination Game.

But what about a Nimue who resides in a stretched timestream, so that a portion of herself is in the future, giving her glimpses of what could be? How far can one go? When does even the scientific become too alike to the supernatural? I want to be different. I want the middle ground, the perfect mixture of fantasy and reality. I don't want to give up the fantastic for the realistic, but I also don't want to use reality as an excuse for the fantastic rather than an explanation. I want all the pieces to work together; to balance.

It is an interesting labyrinth to try and navigate, and I'm certain I don't get it right all the time, but I do, at least, try my best. That's what counts the most in anything anyone does, I think.

Dia duit,
~Penny

PS
And if you're wondering why I'm not posting pictures anymore, it's because silly blogger has a glitch and won't let me upload my own photos. Meh.

Real Magic

Magic

/'majik/ (n.) When the wonder of the whole is greater than the sum of its parts; the complex beauty that cannot be explained as of this world fully, but also of another.

To deny God's design in creation is to deny magic, and without magic, life is a dull and dissatisfying thing. Without magic, there is no wonder, no intrigue, no curiosity, no adventure. Without magic, what is life but a bothersome span of time between birth and death?

I wrote that in my notebook while we were on vacation. I'd gone down to the little patch of woods next to the MacDonald house and sat right in the middle of it, leaning back against the trunk of a large tree. It was early morning, and the sunlight shone through the treetops, softly lighting the colors of the trees, bushes, and dirt path not far from where I sat. I ran my fingers through the loose dirt beside an exposed root, and tilted my head to listen to the breeze rustling the leaves and the birdsongs filtering through the air. I've always loved forests for this reason. The calming yet inspiring atmosphere has magic. You can't explain that feeling by pinpointing the one thing that makes a forest so wonderful. It's everything together, and everything together makes it more than any one of those elements could be alone. Greater than the sum of its parts. Magic.

Ocular Athletes

(n.) People who have trained their eyes to see the wonder around us.

(definition given by Mark Wilson at the OYAN 2012 Summer Workshop.)

Have a little curiosity and look for the magic.

Dia duit,

~Penny