Like most authors, I have gotten inspiration for my book from a number of places, many of which I’m probably not consciously aware of. They float in my subconscious like little sparks waiting for kindling, so they can start the forest fire obsession that writing can become. However, there are a number of influences that I can say with complete certainty affected my journey writing the Wernashi Series. I’ve divided them into literary inspirations and film/TV. This blog will explore some of the books and authors that deeply affected my writing.
Let’s start with the list:
- Dune – Frank Herbert
- The Left Hand of Darkness – Ursula K. Le Guin
- The Last Unicorn – Peter S. Beagle
- The Prince – Niccolò Machiavelli
- Royal Diaries: Jahanara – Kathryn Lasky
- Gail Carson Levine
- Terry Pratchett
- Ender’s Game – Orson Scott Card
- The Fallocaust Series – Quil Carter
- Shakespeare
- J.R.R. Tolkien
Dune and the Art of the Epigraph
I could list dozens of ways Dune affected me as a reader and as a writer. It has fantastic world-building, trope subversion, political intrigue, a unique “magic” system, and many other traits that it also shares with my book. One piece that stands out, however, is its epigraphs.
I love epigraphs. The little quotes right before a chapter starts. I think Inkheart was the first book I ever saw them in, and I was immediately a fan.
What I loved about Dune’s epigraphs is that they add a lot to the world-building. They all sound like they come from historical texts from within the world, which helps to both add to the feeling of realism, while also allowing the author to convey world info without slowing down the story or info-dumping.
In my book, I tried to use them in a similar fashion. We have common sayings and proverbs, song lyrics, religious texts, and history book quotes, to name a few. I think they also help to prime the reader for the chapter ahead.
For example, there are a few spots where I’ll put a slightly ominous epigraph right before a rather heartwarming scene, which sets up the reader to expect something to go wrong. There are other chapters where I’ll keep the epigraph and the opening light, in order to have a later moment in the chapter be more shocking because the reader wasn’t prepared for it. I think this can really add to the reader’s experience in an interesting way.
The Left Hand of Darkness & World-building to Shape Perspective
The Left Hand of Darkness is a book that still leaves my head spinning when I think about it. Like Dune, it has a lot of world-building, but to me, Le Guin’s book focuses more on how that world affects her protagonist and his perspectives, whereas Dune’s feels more political.
I like that LHOD takes you on a journey of self-discovery along with the protagonist as he discovers the world. She also used an alien world to challenge assumptions about what is normal, in her case, mostly around concepts of gender.
With the Wernashi series, I also play with gender by never giving the protagonist a set gender identity, at least not in the conventional sense. However, I took it further than that, and also played with concepts around marriage, relationships in general, sexuality, family, reproduction, and gender roles.
I also firmly believe every writer should read Le Guin’s essay at the front of LHOD, regardless of whether they end up reading the book. It’s a beautiful read and also a reminder of the inherent contradictions of crafting fiction. That writing is a lie that we use to find a truth, that lets the atheist touch the gods, and ties together the madman and the philosopher… I never fail to be inspired when I read it.
The Last Unicorn and Fae Beauty
The Last Unicorn might seem to have very little in common with my book, but many inspirations are like organs in the body. We’re very well aware of the lungs, the heart, and the brain, whether they’re working properly or not. However, when healthy, we often don’t think as much about the spleen, or kidneys, or thyroid, but that doesn’t make them less essential.
The Last Unicorn is one of the most beautifully written books I have ever read. Peter S. Beagle (a lovely man I once had the honor of meeting), gave us a fairy story, and a good fairy story has a wildness to it. The feeling of not quite understanding what is happening, but knowing it’s important anyway. Where philosophy and whimsy go hand in hand, and where there are lessons that stick in your mind long before you can understand what they meant.
There is one particular character in my book who embodies that fae energy. Amalya, my chaos gremlin squishmallow. In a lot of ways, she captures the oddness, otherness, and whimsy that made me love The Last Unicorn so much. It’s not surface-level, but the vibes are there underneath if you look.
The Prince and the Pragmatic Antagonist
The Prince is the only non-fiction book on this list. I’ll be honest, part of why the Prince was an influence is I got very tired of people using the term Machiavellian to simply mean “the ends justify the means” or misquoting “better to be feared than loved”, when Machiavelli made it explicitly clear in his book that you should always strive for both.
Machiavelli may advocate for ruthlessness, but only when ruthlessness is the most effective path. His real lesson, at least from my interpretation, was to make choices in rulership that work, regardless of any moral qualms or societal norms. I wanted to create a character who embodied that.
Enter Zeva. She is a ruthless character, but every decision she makes comes from a place of trying to do what’s best for her kingdom. This can come across as quite villainous, but she can also be caring or helpful if she believes that’s what a situation calls for. I used Machiavelli’s The Prince as a starting point for the character Zeva became.
The Royal Diaries: Jahanara and Diversity of Inspiration
The Royal Diaries: Jahanara was a book I read in high school that, in many ways, shaped my aesthetic preferences when writing about royalty. I loved the descriptions of the opulent palaces, clothing, food, and traditions. I think more than anything, this book inspired curiosity in seeing how royalty looks in different cultures.
There was also a lot of political intrigue in the book. It was interesting seeing how Jahanara’s father was striving to maintain unity between a range of different types of cultures and religions, while also balancing the inner court politics. It left quite an impression on me and encouraged me to take inspiration for my fantasy from cultures beyond just the usual medieval Europe vibes that so many writers default to.
Gail Carson Levine and Subversion
Gail Carson Levine’s influences can be a little difficult for me to break down. In a lot of ways, she represents the subversion of expectation. But she also gave me protagonists who were messy. They were often familiar because they looked so similar to fairytales I knew, but then she’s go and be like, “Well, how do you think the princess felt about all that nonsense?” and suddenly I was seeing these stories in a whole new way.
I think she taught me to think about tropes. Think about what people expect, then think again about whether those expectations made sense. She also reminded me that a thing being simple does not diminish its value or meaningfulness, and she wasn’t afraid to show that a happy ending can also be sad.
Lessons from Sir Terry Pratchett
Sir Terry Pratchett is an author I came to in adulthood when I wasn’t reading as much as I used to. What Gail Carson Levine was to my childhood and teenage reading years, he’s been to my adulthood. Many of the same lessons I got from her were reinforced by him, so I will not repeat those.
- As a writer, these are the lessons I hope I took from Pratchett:
- Characters are diverse with unique opinions that can and should change as the story progresses.
- Sometimes the biggest lessons come from the most unexpected places.
- It is possible to write a proper Machiavellian character (The Tyrant).
- Have fun with the world you’re writing.
Ender’s Game and The Means to an End
Ender’s Game is another book that had a strong impact on me when I read it. Initially, it ended up on my reading list because it was one of the books on the Marine Corps reading list. It was a fascinating experience as a young Marine and young adult.
It is hard to fully articulate this one as well, so I’ll bullet-point some of the things I took away from it that have influenced my own writing.
- How far will powerful people go to reach their goals?
- Does the end really justify the means?
- How do you deal with the moral injury of realizing people used you for a goal you believed was noble but turned out to be a lie?
- How empathy can be weaponized.
The Fallocaust and Lessons from Unexpected Places
The Fallocaust series by Quil Carter is one that many people may not be as familiar with. For those that are, you may be wondering how a post-apocalyptic M/M pitch black series has anything to do with my alien fantasy series. However, this one is every bit as important to me as Dune or LHOD. I could do a whole blog on this series alone.
One thing the Fallocaust gave me was it helped me think about gender, specifically masculinity, and my assumptions about it. In the Fallocaust, 90% of the characters are gay men. However, throughout the series, readers get to see masculinity presented in a range of ways, both more traditional and not so traditional. You have men who are stoic, you have flamboyant ones, you have ones deeply in touch with their feelings, ones who would rather die than admit they have feelings, ones who love fashion, ones who rolled out of bed in the same outfit they’ve worn for the last week… I could go on. The main takeaway was that gender expression is an entirely personal choice that can come in as many different forms as there are people.
Reading Quil’s books also made me less apologetic about writing what I want to write. He writes incredibly dark stories, but for how dark they are, they also have some of the sweetest moments of any book series I’ve ever read. He also consistently comes up with new and interesting ways to torture his characters that continue to fascinate and surprise me. This balance of light and dark, and unexpected creativity, makes his books more addictive to me than any other series I’ve ever read.
He also made me rethink what success as an author looks like. I couldn’t tell you what level of success his books have had for him financially, but I can tell you, as a member of the Facebook group for his fans, he has some of the most loyal, rabidly invested readers I’ve ever seen. These people are so sweet and supportive of both him and each other. It made me realize that rather than having a best seller, I’d much rather have a community of people my book really means something to.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t also mention how much his books have helped me with writing emotion. Quil is an absolute master at making you feel when you read his books. This is something I feel like I struggle with sometimes if I’m not in the right headspace. For this reason, I have dozens of scenes from Quil’s books bookmarked so I can go back to them whenever I need to get in a specific emotional headspace for the scene I’m writing. That, plus some good music, and I’m ready to go.
NOTE: For anyone considering reading this series after my commentary, I should warn you that this is truly one of the darkest series you will ever read. Trigger warnings are more of a checklist, and there are very few taboos that don’t get hit on at least once. The characters are all morally awful, but emotionally relatable, to the point you will find yourself empathizing with people you would have never imagined forgiving. All of this is part of why I find the series fascinating, but also why I feel I should warn you, because this series really isn’t for everyone. (The fans, however, are all delightfully unhinged angels and I love all of them.)
Shakespeare and Emotion
It might amuse you to find that I value Shakespeare and Quil Carter for very similar reasons. I’ve loved Shakespeare since I was a child, and my dad started showing me the movie versions of various Shakespeare plays. My all-time favorite is Much Ado About Nothing.
I like the range of characters Shakespeare crafted, the cheeky humor, and the excellent wit. However, as an author myself, one of the best uses I’ve found for Shakespeare is when writing emotions. As I mentioned before, emotions are something I sometimes struggle to write, but I discovered there’s a little trick that works when I need a character to get emotional.
If I take that scene and I write the dialogue in Shakespearian english, I can usually get a much stronger emotional scene. I, of course, then have to translate it back into plain English, but the exercise is still very effective. I once heard someone say that the whole range of human emotion can be found in Shakespeare. For me, this has proven true, and thanks to my dad, I understand the language well enough to make use of that.
Tolkien: A Foundational Inspiration
I will end on Tolkien and start this section with a quote from Sir Terry Pratchett:
“J.R.R. Tolkien has become a sort of mountain, appearing in all subsequent fantasy in the way that Mt. Fuji appears so often in Japanese prints. Sometimes it’s big and up close. Sometimes it’s a shape on the horizon. Sometimes it’s not there at all, which means that the artist either has made a deliberate decision against the mountain, which is interesting in itself, or is in fact standing on Mt. Fuji.”
Like most fantasy authors, I would be lying if I said Tolkien had no influence on my own work. There are so many things I could say, but I think the biggest thing Tolkien taught me was the joy of creating another world. I know many authors have taken his settings, his creatures, and his vibes and tweaked them to their own stories, and there’s nothing wrong with that. For me, however, the joy was in making something new.
I didn’t want elves and dwarves and dragons. I wanted to have my own creatures, my own world, my own languages, and writing systems. I looked at Tolkien and saw a man who revelled in the creation of a world unlike our own and decided I would allow myself to take joy in the same.
My world is different, my story is different, but my joy? That is something I like to think Mr. Tolkien and I may have in common.