I'm pleased to introduce a post by fantasy author Daniel Beazley who's recently released a great book called Goblins Know Best. Those of you familiar with this blog may recognise Anton Kokarev's cover art!
The fantasy and humour recipe
I want to share with you my thoughts on why I mix fantasy
with a bit of humour. There are many great fantasy tales out there and I’m sure
you could all reel off at least five of your favourite works now without even
pausing for breath, but have a quick think and tell me your five favourite
fantasy funnies. That’s a little bit more difficult isn’t it?
I’ve written creatively on and off since 1996 and when I
used to sit down to write I dreamt of epic adventures spanning well over six
figures in word count. Seriously gritty stuff that dealt with all manner of
diabolical plans to take over the world or destroy it, and the hero’s journey
to put things right and save the day. I mean who wouldn’t want to write the
next tale about a lord and his set of rings? I would scribble away, consuming
page after page thinking “this is original” and it was, but originality alone
just won’t cut the mustard. I think that showed because when I used to get
around the 35-40 % mark I became bored and my mind had already raced onto the
next great idea. Clearly not something that’s conducive to writing an
intriguing book.
My outlook on writing changed significantly after reading
some of Terry Pratchett’s work. I finally realised that not all fantasy has to
be deadly serious and full of world shattering events. I was reading great
books which had a definite element of nonsense about them and that made me
chuckle at regular intervals. This really appealed to me as I love to have a
laugh and have been called a “sarcastic git” on more than one occasion. It made
me consider my own writing and its content, and I decided that I wasn’t particularly
happy with it anymore. That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy reading the more
serious stuff, in fact I almost enjoy it even more now in some kind of bizarre
way (probably because I’m not tarnishing it with my own prattle anymore).
It was about this time that an idea formulated in my mind
and I thought, why not write about an unlikely pair and make it funny at the
same time. And so a satirical goblin and orc partnership was born, where chef
teamed up with warrior and misadventure and chaos followed in their wake.
Bogrot and Gorag only began life as an entry into a short story competition but
I loved them so much that I continued to write about them and before long I had
a novel in my hands, the rest is history. I found out in December 2012 that my
short story submission was one of the winners and will be included in the
Fantasy Faction Anthology 2012, and my own novel was released in January 2013.
It’s been a crazy couple of months but has also been really rewarding and
motivating. When you hear that someone has enjoyed your book so much that they
walk around quoting bits to others, it really makes everything feel worthwhile.
I’d like to share with you a short extract from my book
but before I do I want to sum up the above four paragraphs by saying this:
after 16 years I have finally realised how important it is to write in your own
voice and not to try and imitate someone else’s. So, if like me you are indeed
a ‘sarcastic git’, then write like one, I think you’ll find the end result so
much better.
Extract from A Curry too Far, Goblins Know Best
Forty large ticks of the clock later, we’d managed to amass
a generous wagon full of the disgusting creatures, and I decided we had
enough. They’d given up trying to escape
following the good thrashing some of them had received, and simply lay about,
wallowing in their own putridness. Gorag
turned and, launching his slug-flipper into the murky depths of the marsh,
hopped up onto the wagon.
“I’s is gonna ride out of ‘ere,” he declared.
“I don’t blame you,” I said, manoeuvring the wagon around
before giving Mona a firm crack of the whip.
“Ouch! You don’t
have to do that, you know. Not only does
it hurt, but such a barbaric incentive is completely outdated and unnecessary.”
“What’s going on here?” came a softly spoken female
voice.
The three of us turned our heads in unison as a figure
garbed in a drab, grey shawl materialised out of the mist.
“Would those be my slugs you’ve got in the back of that
cart?”
“Err, Purity Pest Control at your service,” I replied,
bowing as low as I could manage without falling out of the wagon seat. “No pest too big, no problem too small.”
The woman looked on, seemingly trying to gauge the truth
of my claim. Gorag’s long intake of air
and vacant stare into the sky suggested he was about to say something stupid
and I’d long since given up all hope of expecting anything else. Concerned he would give the whole façade
away, I gave him a bony elbow to the ribs.
Unfortunately this was noted with a wry smile by the woman.
“It seems to me your employees don’t share your quick wit
or sharp intellect, young goblin,” she said, brushing a long, wet lock of
golden hair from where it had clung to her smooth cheek.
“You’re n-n-n-not th-th-the Water Witch, are you?” Mona
stammered.
“I’m Sessiana yes, though I’m not particularly fond of
the name ‘Water Witch’ to be honest, besides which, it’s ridiculous. I don’t draw any of my power from the water.”
Mona gulped loudly and Gorag took a step back. The ensuing cry as he slipped on some slime
was cut short by the chaos that ensued as he landed amongst the group of slugs
in the back of the wagon. The fact that
a number of them were crushed with gruesome effect did not overly concern
me. I was simply glad of the cushioning
properties of their mucus coated bodies that, without doubt, had prevented
Gorag’s bulk from destroying the wagon.
Sessiana rose onto her toes, craning her neck and looking
on with concern as Gorag struggled to clamber up out of the slime-infested
mess.
“Don’t worry about him, it’s his first day on the
job. I can assure you we’re a very
professional outfit,” I said, trying to detract her attention from the bouncing
wagon and its contents.
“I’m not worried about him, I’m worried about my little
babies in the back,” she replied.
“Right,” I said, hesitantly. “So these are your slugs, are they?”
“They most certainly are which does beg the question as
to where you think you’re going with them?”
I could see that it was pointless trying to pull the wool
over her eyes any longer; she was far too astute for that to work. She didn’t actually look like I had imagined
she would either. Where I expected a
withered old crone, instead there was a pretty young woman in front of me. It almost took all of my magik-instilled
apprehension away – almost.
“I’ll be honest with you, Sessiana. These slugs are eating their way through this
whole patch of Dwarf Cabbages that belong to an acquaintance of mine. I was asked to come down here and try to
remove some of them.”
Sessiana studied me for a while, chewing on a long
fingernail.
“That’s a lie; well, part of it is anyway.”
Mona swung her head around and whispered at me, “Don’t
tell her about the curry. Don’t mention
the curries.”
“Shhhh,” I hissed back at her, still trying to keep my
feet as Gorag continued to roll about in the back.
“They are kind of useful to me as well and I didn’t think
anyone would miss a few slugs,” I shrugged.
“I’ll miss them!” she shouted angrily. “I make most of my potions from the Black
Marsh Slugs.”
“Now that is interesting,” I said, leaning forward, my
curiosity piqued. “What part of the slug
do you think it is that produces the spicy heat and zingy flavour I’ve been
using in my curries?”
“What?” she exclaimed.
Mona shivered and unloaded the steaming contents of her
bowels. Gorag, having finally managed to
stand up, decided that it was probably safer back amongst the slime and dived
back into the group of slugs. I stayed
where I was, feeling unusually dumbfounded and a tad exposed.
Twitter: @daniel_beazley
Facebook: writerdanielbeazley
Website: www.danielbeazley.com
Looks like a good book, I always enjoy fantasy with a good bit of humor thrown in.
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