Discussion: Saberondan, and Stories With Magic.


The name itself slips off the tongue with all of the grace of a minstrel’s song. Something about its syllables ring the rumors of a lyrical, but haunting, past; one that echoes the wave of emotions trapped in this fortress of an island’s story.

It’s a tale that entwines elves, the wild ties of forbidden love and the mars of hatred and war. Written by an artist named Adele Lorienne, the characters alone are distinctly alluring. Especially Semiyar, a wondering minstrel with an angel’s tongue that will make you fall in love with him with the pluck of a lute string.

As I nitpick my way through chapter after chapter of my novel, The Royal Rogue, I find myself brought back to this book. The way it enchants me as a reader; something I hope my own book will do one day. It’s hard to judge the quality of your own writing. Our characters are often like our own children. Every little facet of them is interesting, and we enjoy walking in their footsteps as their stories unfold. Stories that matter to us.

But to everyone else, they could look and sound completely different. Our favorite character in the eyes of other people can look like the awkward kid that smells kind of funny and tends to sit in the corner while all the other kids play together.

Okay, there’s probably a better metaphor than that. Chances are I’d like that awkward smelling kid in the corner anyway.

What I’m attempting to get at is how do we as writers know whether we’re creating Semiyars or Smelly Kids? What is it that adds the magic and makes a book hard to put down? There are probably many answers to this. All of them different, and unique, based on the experiences of the person providing them.

But what is it to you?

Semiyar will probably forever be one of my favorite characters because he appeals to the dreamer in me. The one that finds the life of a traveling storyteller to be an insurpassable adventure, and love a battle worth risking your life for. He’s a bit girly at times (a trait that can be overlooked when you’re easy on the eyes), but he displays a courage and an ideal my inner child longs to still believe in.

And maybe that root is where the magic stems. It wells from a place deep inside of us that secretly yearns to share a part in these fictional masterpieces, and spurs us to pick up the same books again, and again… and again.

What do you think?

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