Behind the Story: To Build Eternity, With Bones

Author's notes on my latest published story

Another one of my stories got published! This one popped into my head almost fully formed and I’m very happy it has found a great home. ‘To Build Eternity, With Bones’ is now available in The Deadlands. I hope you give it a read. If you do, let me know what you think about it.

(If you’re not here for fiction, don’t worry, we’ll get back to our regularly scheduled programming of science, philosophy, technology, and psychology soon.)

The Deadlands is a monthly magazine with a unique aesthetic and even though it’s a relatively new kid on the speculative fiction block, it has managed to make a name for itself. An exceptional editing team and unique hook can have that effect. The magazine has already featured some big names and great writers in the speculative fiction realm. It’s an honor to see my name on the table of content.

To Build Eternity, With Bones is a story about a necromancer on a sailboat, part of an expedition hunting for a legend. But it’s also about much more than that. All decent stories have many layers. Like people. (Not to mention I enjoy stuffing as many Easter eggs in a story/post/article/newsletter as I can get away with.)

Moby Dick meets Leviathan

Let’s get the obvious reference out of the way first. Sailing expedition into a strenuous, inimical environment on the hunt for a mythical beast? Herman Melville called and he wants his idea back. Sorry, Herman.

Good artists copy; great artists steal.

(Pablo Picasso stole that quote. It’s been stolen by many people.)

In my story, the beast is named Leviathan, a nod to both the biblical sea serpent and the book by Thomas Hobbes. It’s not only a cool name, but the reference to Hobbes’ book is also a reference to the social contract theory he espoused. That is, we often surrender some of our personal freedom for the maintenance of social order (a very rough summary with plenty of holes, I know). In this story, it’s applied to the microcosm of the sailboat. Different people with different skills from different groups, some reviled by the others… And yet, they have to make it work by adhering to some basic rules. Eventually, though, rules break.

Unlike Moby Dick’s Moby Dick, my Moby Dick is dead. Cue…

Necromancy

Communing with the dead and/or making them walk (or swim) again. The story’s protagonist is a young promising necromancer looking to make a name for herself (and please check out her name if you choose to read the story). Necromancers are a small, but powerful guild in the story’s world. Respected. Feared even. Also greeted with suspicion and superstition.

In this world, magic is real and costly. (Pro tip for anyone thinking about writing fantasy: magic should never be free.) In the story, every type of magical skill has its particular patron saint. In the case of necromancy:

The Baron

This character is very heavily modeled after the Haitian Vodou loa (voodoo spirit) Baron Samedi. For some reason, I’ve always been fascinated by this guy. I think it frames within my wider fascination for the various trickster deities and spirits. Loki, Hermes, Anansi… They speak in riddles and ambiguities, dismantle the myth of bright-eyed heroism, and twist reality in their favor. What’s not to like?

Also, my initial focus on the Baron’s grin is a reference to one of my all-time favorite fictional characters, Lewis Caroll’s Cheshire Cat.

In the story, every act of necromancy involves a deal with the Baron, and the larger the act, the bigger the deal. Imagine resurrecting a beast of myth. Why would you do such a thing?

Love with spines

Love, of course. All stories and songs are about love in one way or another. But, for some people, allowing yourself to be loved is hard. I can only speak for myself, but when you only see cracks in the mirror and flaws in the painting, you develop invisible spines. Or you build walls.

Like broken objects, broken people have sharp edges, and it’s hard to hug something with sharp edges. Our necromantic protagonist has taken all the challenges in her life, all the barely concealed stares, and has used them to harden herself. When she will achieve the goal she has set for herself, she hopes that it will set her free from the burden of self-loathing she conceals behind cynicism. It doesn’t work that way. She’ll figure it out before the story ends.

Okay, that got darker than I intended. On the other hand, fits the theme, doesn’t it?

I can’t say much more without major spoilers, except that, in the end, the Baron always gets what he wants.

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