Up this week is The Tough Guide to Fantasyland by Diana Wynne Jones. This book has been around since 1996 (first publised in the UK, now available from Penguin the US through their Firebird imprint) and has been justly lauded and reviewed LOTS of places, so I’ll be brief.

The Guide is arranged as an A-Z listing of anything and everything a Tourist (i.e., a reader of fantasy fiction) will likely encounter on their Tour of Fantasyland (i.e., reading any fantasy book). Also included are many editorial asides about things one might logically expect to find in Fantasyland but won’t, notably chilblains, the common cold, vast swathes of flora and fauna in the natural world, a viable economy, and any food except stew and on occasion yogurt.

The Guide is very, very funny; Jones has a dry, breezy, highly irreverent style that makes reading an A-Z listing, a task usually as exciting as watching paint dry, highly entertaining. The cross-references in particular are often a hoot.

Many writers swear by this book as a means of gently mocking all the clichés of the genre, thereby, we hope, discouraging them in future works, including our own. I suspect it’s most useful as a reminder about the importance of world-building (see especially the entries on ECOLOGY and ECONOMY).

In this summer’s novel-writing workshop, (World Fantasy Award-winning writer) Kij Johnson talked about the technique of “borrowed landscape,” a term she used for writing that alludes to some other cultural referent to help flesh out setting. “Chick lit” writers sometimes do this by name-dropping various products or designer’s names (The Devil Wears Prada); just about everybody writing in a contemporary setting uses this to some extent or the other by using pop culture references.

In fantasy fiction, the borrowed landscape might use elements of other fantasy works (Tolkien?) or folklore. The danger is in over-reliance on borrowed landscape, and on everybody picking the same few details to evoke the rest of the world they describe (which is why the animal and plant kingdoms in Fantasyland are greatly reduced compared to real life). In this way, the Guide serves as a reminder to choose those evocative details carefully. Plus it’s a lot of fun.

On a related note, I picked up my copy of the Tough Guide at a wonderful kid’s bookstore in Kansas City, The Reading Reptile, which has an amazing selection, from board books through young adult, in a kid-friendly environment. It was my first visit, but I’ll be back. They also sponsor a big children’s lit fest every year. Their lineup for 2010 (March 26-27)  includes Adam Rex, who wrote the wonderful and super-fun book The True Meaning of Smekday.

Oh, and another thing: special thanks to Rob and Lane for reciting the entire entry on STEW nearly verbatim from memory last Wednesday, reminding me that I really really needed to get this book.

My birthday present to myself this year was a ballroom dancing class, taken with my sweetie. On the first day we arrived at the South Park Rec Building VERY nervous, being the only F/F couple in the group (of maybe a dozen or more couples), but our dance instructors Shirley and Blue (who are in their sixties or seventies, have been teaching for many decades and likely have seen it all and then some) quickly put us all at ease.

On the first night, they gave advice to the gents (and me — yes, I got to lead) about how to lead effectively, which is also really great writing advice:

1. Keep the frame.

In dance, this means keep your arms and shoulders firm and your elbows up. This makes it easier for your partner to follow you (and in fact, hard to do otherwise). I could tell whenever I let my frame slip, because at that point my lovely and talented dance partner would sort of go off in her own direction, doing her own thing, and the dancing-as-a-couple thing quickly disintegrated.

In writing, to me this means you have to build the world with enough convincing detail that your reader is carried along with you. You can always tell in workshops when this isn’t working, because all of a sudden the readers are veering off in all different directions, often reading very odd things into the story that (to you as the writer) aren’t there. You’ve lost them. Keeping the frame is about concrete and specific detail, but even more so it’s about voice. Readers will relax into a book with a solid and compelling voice, and allow themselves to be carried off wherever the author chooses to take them.

2. Dance your body.

In dance, this means concentrating on your own body in space and moving it where you want it to go. If you keep the frame, your partner will come along with you. If you try to direct your partner and “lead” them in that way (steering them around), it doesn’t work.

In writing, this advice translates into adages like, “No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader.” (Robert Frost said that.) Writing is not really a manipulative art, although good writing makes readers feel things, sometimes with the full intent and purpose of the author. But I would argue that to be successful, the author has to feel those things first, and even then, it’s cussed hard to bring that level of emotional reality to the page. When an author fails, you get purple prose, melodrama, or transparent attempts to tug at heartstrings.

I’m still thinking about that one.

It seems like there should be a third thing, but those were the only two bits of advice Shirley and Blue gave us! I would add, though…

3. If you are not afraid of looking foolish, being embarrassed, or tripping over your own feet, you can learn a lot in a short amount of time.

The writing and life applications of that one should be obvious. It hearkens back to a hobby horse of mine, permeability as a writerly virtue. Most of the successful writers I’ve met (I’m not talking in terms of book sales necessarily, although that is one measure of success) have this quality. Not only are they curious and interested in others and the world around them, they tend to be more open to their experiences. They are capable of changing their minds, and their hearts.

Another way of looking at this might be John Keats’ negative capability, that is, “capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact & reason.”

At any rate, if you are closed off, the only way you can improve as a writer is under your own steam — it has to be your idea. You become sort of a closed system. If you were a plant, you’d be self-pollinating. Writers who are more permeable are better able to share and swap around ideas and learn from the feedback (and mistakes) of others. Plus, it’s less lonely.

My personal favorite tip is #2: “Name the villains after people who wronged you in high school.”

And how did I arrive at a web site dedicated to dispensing advice for parents? Ah, the web works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?

Lemony Snicket’s Bedtime Storytelling Tips | Tips Kids Everywhere – DailyCandy.