The Valdemar Companion Read online

  ML: Right at the moment, I haven’t thought past the next two books, both “Arrows” prequels, one about Skif, the other about Alberich.

  For all I know, I may go back to the Mage Wars.

  DL: How do you keep all the times, mythologies, relationships, characters and so on that you ‘ve developed through so many books on Valdemar organized when you write? Is it hard to keep all the data straight, or have you got a system to make it easier?

  ML: I reread the relevant books and take notes—but we do have a plan to eventually get most of the books on a CD with a search program! It’s really quite hard to keep it all straight at this point, with so many books involved, and I do make mistakes!

  DL: What was the easiest book you‘ve written, what was the toughest, and why?

  ML: The easiest are the Tarma and Kethry books—because they are just pure fun. The toughest were the Storms books—I don’t handle huge casts of characters very comfortably, I’m afraid, and although I like reading about great epic battles and so forth, I’m not very apt with them.

  DL: Magic use in the world of Valdemar has changed radically from the time of Vanyel to the time of Elspeth. In addition, it varies strongly from culture to culture, as in Karse and Rethwellen and Valdemar. Even closely related cultures, like the Shin’a’in, the Tayledras, and the Kaled’a’in, have strong differences in their approach to magic. And the world itself was nearly decimated by the cataclysm at the end of the Mage Wars, and reverberations from that war are currently getting stronger, to the point of threatening the whole world once more. Given all the ways you‘ve presented magic use, it clearly is something central to this universe, and the ability to manipulate it matters greatly to the basic story lines. Is magic something you use in an allegorical sense, or is all this variation strictly a storyteller’s device? Was this something you had in mind from the beginning of writing the series, or was it something that evolved as you wrote the books?

  ML: Magic is both a storyteller’s device and an allegorical object—I try to make everything serve at least two purposes, and possibly more. It definitely evolved as I went along, though, I can tell you that!

  DL: Did the idea of Companions really come to you in a dream?

  ML: Argh! Much as I hate to say this, yes! Now, with that, here’s the caveat; it was a dream-fragment, and there was a lot of work between that fragment and the finished product.

  DL: Nonhuman characters play an important part in this world, and on an equal basis with the human characters. They’ve got their own societies, some of which interact with humans, some of which don‘t. I always enjoy that aspect of your work. What drives that for you—especially since it’s done to a much greater extent than in classic fantasy? And where can I find a bunch of hertasi?

  ML: I’ve always loved nonhumans, aliens of all kinds; my back ground is in biology, and to a certain extent biology is destiny. Things that wouldn’t matter to a mammal are going to be very important to a reptile! That gives another twist to motivations. For what it’s worth, I’ve been looking for hertasi myself! I’m a wretched housekeeper, and by and large an indifferent cook. I really need about six of the little guys to take the cleaning and cooking off my back.

  DL: Do you have a message that you feel is central to your writing?

  ML: Compassion and personal responsibility.

  DL: The power of relationships to both heal and destroy those involved in them is a theme that recurs throughout your fiction. Is that simply storyteller’s choice, or is it something deeper and more personal?

  ML: That comes from fifty years of pure observation. Do a little arithmetic and I was there for the worst and best of the 1960s and 1970s. If ever there was a time to see people trying everything possible in relationships, that was it.

  DL: You’ve tackled a number of different issues in your work—everything from saving the environment to responsible pet ownership to overcoming prejudice to allowing people to make their own emotional and sexual choices without judging them. Does the story bring on the message, or does the message bring on the story? And how have your fans responded to these elements in your work?

  ML: I don’t think it’s possible to separate story from message in really good fiction—if you try, you end up with no message at all (which is just candy-fluff writing, pure self-indulgence), or nothing but message (which is boring). I do think that readers respond positively when you aren’t preaching at them, but giving them examples of why something does or doesn’t work.

  DL: You have a lot of outside interests that have found their way into the world of Valdemar—rehabilitating raptors, composing and singing original music and filking, and so on. Can you tell us a bit about the activities you pursue in the real world, and how they power your fiction?

  ML: I don’t think they power the fiction, but they do contribute to it, since they make the story and the world that much richer. The more ‘real’ you can make the setting, the better! Right down to the bugs, if necessary—remember poor Frodo and Sam being swarmed by midges?

  My big hobbies at the moment are raptor rehabilitation, my pet birds, beadwork, doll-costuming, and needlework.

  DL: Several of these interests have sparked some fairly large scale “cottage industries,” like your songs and the artwork from the books. Can you tell us a little bit about how that evolved?

  ML: The songs actually started because I found it useful to write lyrics of my own about pivotal moments in the first books, and my good friend Ten Lee was kind enough to make albums out of them. Since then, the demand has been high enough that more people have been doing the songs, which I think is pretty nifty. As for the artwork, well, I think Larry Dixon is just brilliant, but I’m prejudiced.

  DL: Is it odd, thinking about how your words can impact the lives of people you‘ve never met, and sometimes even change them completely? Do you think about things like that when you‘re writing, or do you tell your stories and let the chips fall as they may?

  ML: I can’t write about personal responsibility and not try and live by it—I definitely do think about it and make conscious decisions about what I write and how I write it for that very reason.

  DL: I’ve been watching your career since your first book was published, and have been pleased to see your rise through the ranks to become one of the bestselling fantasy writers working today. Is it still a shock and a delight to see your name on a bestseller list?

  ML: Totally astonishing. Completely amazes me. I still don’t believe it, not deep down inside.

  DL: How has your success as a writer changed you and your writing?

  ML: I hope it’s made me very careful to try to come up with the best possible book that I can, every time, and to keep improving. I may not always succeed, but by heaven, I do try.

  DL: How do you feel your writing has evolved through time?

  ML: I hope it’s improved, for one thing—I hope that I’m learning how to handle complicated casts and plots that I couldn’t do years ago. One of these days I might be able to manage an epic!

  DL: You’ve got some amazing fans, and a very organized fandom, with several officially sanctioned fan clubs. You‘ve been remarkably involved with and accessible to these fans. Can you tell us a little about how that evolved, what the rules are, and what it looks like from your point of view?

  ML: Well, I’ve tried to put the emphasis on the work and not on the writer. The fan clubs have always been for the fans to have fun in, not for me to get ego-boosts from or set myself up as some sort of guru. That said, if people wanted to play being heralds, who are exceptionally self-sacrificing, I didn’t feel as if they should just put on a white outfit and say “I’m a Herald.” I felt they needed to do some work to earn that status. Anne McCaffrey had set up a standard in her Weyrs where people had to earn points by writing and art to earn a dragon, and I just carried it a bit farther—after all, not everyone is a good writer or artist, but we can all go pick up trash on the highway. With that basic setup, it all just managed to prolifer
ate by itself. Pretty amazing from where I sit.

  DL: What’s a typical day in your life like?

  ML: A typical day is actually kind of boring—I start by feeding the birds; if I’ve got rehab babies, it’s time for the first of four hand feedings, otherwise I make rice and veggies for the pets. Then I answer email, do some basic chores, run errands, then settle in for work. Around 8 P.M. I quit to give every bird an evening cuddle, watching TLC, Discovery Channel, History Channel, or something similar. Then it’s back to work until bedtime.

  Of course, the work itself is pretty exciting, and there’s always the occasional wild bird crisis to enliven the week, especially in springtime—and I also do radar-reading in tornado season for the local Emergency Management office.

  DL: I’ve always enjoyed hearing about your house—it’s such a wonderful story. Can you share a bit of your odyssey in finding it and living in it with your fans?

  ML: We needed a house, but what we need is not exactly what your ordinary family needs. We didn’t need to be in a good school district, for instance. So we looked at a lot of odd buildings—old churches, a Moose lodge, an earth-sheltered house built into the top of a hill. Finally we found this thing—it’s a 2½ story concrete dome with an octagonal wooden shell over it to make it look more like a normal house. There’s a lot of living room, fairly small bedrooms, and of course it’s round with curved outer walls, which makes placement of furniture kind of awkward. Larry went to see it first, then he brought me out to have a look at it just at the moment of a partial solar eclipse, which was pretty neat. When we walked into the living room, there was a barred-owl feather right in the middle of the floor, and we rather took it as an omen.

  It’s not the easiest house to live in, but it’s different! The acoustics in the living room are pretty weird; people in the loft sound as if they’re right behind you. We’ve got a flock of geese and ducks, bantams and guinea fowl to take care of the ticks, and two peacocks outside, and of course our pet flock of parrots and cockatoos. We also have two big outside cages for rehab birds, all on 6¼ acres with a small pond and a big garage.

  DL: What’s the best thing about being a writer? And the toughest thing?

  ML: The best thing is being able to make a living doing something you love. The toughest thing is to stay focused and self-motivated.

  DL: You‘ve always done a great deal of collaborative work from the very beginning of your career. Can you tell us a little bit about that as it impacts Valdemar, and also about what makes sharing worlds interesting to you?

  ML: The only person I share Valdemar with is Larry, and that’s because I feel very possessive about this particular series. It helps a lot, though, because it’s always good to have another opinion on things besides my own. It’s very easy to get mono-focused on something and go overboard on it, or not give enough attention to something that really needs it.

  DL: You’ve had some interesting mentors in your life as you’ve evolved as a writer. Could you talk a little about the people who‘ve helped you professionally and personally?

  ML: The big three writers are Marion Zimmer Bradley, C.J. Cherryh, and Andre Norton. Andre was my big inspiration and influence from the very beginning. Marion was the one who gave me my early sales and encouragement, and C.J. Cherryh was the one who gave me the critique I needed to get over the hump of amateur writing into professional-quality writing. And of course Elizabeth (Betsy) Wollheim is an ace editor! She’s been the editor on every Valdemar book. I don’t think I could have gotten where I am without them all.

  DL: What are you proudest of about your body of work? And do you have any scenes or stories you’d like to do over?

  ML: I’m proudest of the fact that people have found something in the books that speaks to them. But as for doing things over—given a chance, I’d probably rewrite everything I’ve written but that’s always the case. If you ever get satisfied with what you’ve done, you’re dead.

  DL: What are you working on now, and what can the fans look forward to in the future, to the best of your ability to predict it?

  ML: After the two prequels to the Arrows books, one about Skif and the other about Alberich, I plan on doing another series, set in the “present” Valdemar, taking a youngster through the Collegium as it is now. I’d like to get back to the gryphons, and to Darian Firkin and the k’Valdemar Vale.

  DL: Do you have any advice, based on your own experience, that you‘d like to give to aspiring writers?

  ML: The only way to become a writer is to write. Don’t talk about it; glue your behind to the chair and write, at least four pages every day, even if you end up throwing them out, If you can’t make the time, you aren’t a writer. You have to motivate yourself; no one else can do that for you. If you can’t do that, you are never going to be a writer. Write until you’ve finished a book, then send it out and write another one. And keep doing it until someone buys one. It’s just that simple.

  DL: You read a lot—what kinds of things do you read, both fiction and non-fiction? Can you share some of your favorite writers when you‘re reading for fun?

  ML: Well, when I’m reading for research, obviously I read things about the culture and/or time period that my books are using. For instance, in the past I have read quite a bit about Native Americans, the Osage tribes in particular; Victorian medicine; Renaissance Venice; Victorian and Edwardian domestic life; the Suffragist movement in the United Kingdom; medieval Germany; gypsies; serial killers and stalkers; Edwardian London; medieval Russia and Russian myth. Right now I have a backlog of books for current and future projects that include a great deal of Arthurian writings; more about the United Kingdom in the period of 1910—1920; World War I flying aces; Elizabeth I; Hypatia of Alexandria, John Chrysostom; Savannah, Georgia, in the 1950s; New York in the 1920s; pre-Columbian Indian culture around Ahokia; Germany in the 1930s and 1940s; Nazi occultists; the English countryside in the 1920s around Devon; English stately homes…

  Okay, that’s research. Now for hobbies, of course, I read all manner of books on needlework and beadcraft, sewing and costuming.

  For fun—well, I kind of go all over the map. Dorothy L. Sayers, Saki, P.D. James, Edith Wharton, Judith Tarr, Elizabeth Peters, Rudyard Kipling, Barbara Hambly, Roberta Gellis, Wilkie Collins, Katherine Kunz, Arthur Conan Doyle, Robert Heinlein, Holly Lisle, Spider Robinson, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Patricia Wrede, Anne McCaffrey, Elizabeth Ann Scarborough, James H. Schmitz, C. S. Lewis, Maud Hart Lovelace, Joanna Rowling, Andre Norton… I’m a dangerous person in a bookstore.

  DL: Most writers were voracious readers before they became writers, and that’s clearly the case with you. What writers do you feel formed your view of what fantasy and SF should be?

  ML: Oh, right off the bat, James H. Schmitz and Andre Norton, the first two SF writers whose works I ever read. I think when it comes right down to cases, the roots to almost everything I write can be traced back to the influence of those two writers, with maybe some Arthur Conan Doyle and a few fairy tales thrown in.

  DL: When you invented the Mage Wars, were you thinking of some of Earth‘s manmade disasters (global warming, nuclear weapons, pollution, the depletion of the ozone layer), and echoing them in Valdemar?

  ML: Of course! Absolute power corrupts and makes selfish, and all that.

  DL: The political sphere in Valdemar is a bit of an idealized one, thanks to the vetting of its rulers by Companions. But palace intrigues still find their way into the books, even in Valdemar, and especially in Valdemar’s neighboring nations. In the “Winds” series, the Mage War crisis seems to be forcing politics to the fore, as all the various societies have to cooperate to deal with its repercussions. It’s high drama and it sheds a lot of light on the world of Valdemar, but it’s also extremely difficult to write—a big cast of characters, multiple viewpoint writing, lots of back story and varied settings, and an epic scale for some of the scenes. It’s ambitious, to say the least. How did you decide to write this story, and did its scope scare you
as you sat down to begin it?

  ML: Oh, heavens—I have never felt comfortable with “Big Picture, Cast of Thousands” epics. The scope kind of crept up on me, and I am still not happy with my work in it. I don’t feel that I did the job adequately, and I’m not sure I ever could, even if I took years to write the things. I am much more at home with a more intimate cast of characters—where there may well be a Big Epic Struggle involved, but the real story is how a couple of characters deal with it and their lives as they live through it. Mind, I suppose with practice I’ll grow better and happier about writing that sort of thing, but it still is not the place where I’m the most comfortable.

  DL: Family and friendship are the backbone of all of your Valdemar books, so I’d guess they are very important to you as well. Is that so? Could you tell us a little about your family life growing up? And do you mine that vein when you’re writing Valdemar, or do you tend to work more with a composite on your own experiences along with everybody else‘s that you‘ve ever read or heard about?

  ML: I had a disgustingly normal childhood, with the sole exception that I was a plain, brainy nerd-chick and didn’t fit in anywhere, especially with the popular crowd who of course thought I was hilarious to pick on. My big fantasy was that some day a UFO would land in the courtyard of the high school, the space aliens would pick ME to go with them, and everyone else would just have to watch in awe. Either that, or I’d become an astronaut or a famous scientist and the former jocks and princesses would see me on television. Or else I’d write a book that went to the top of the bestseller lists for a year, and I’d be rich and famous. Guess I’ll have to settle for writing some decent books and having some of the greatest fans in the world—seems like a pretty fine life to me!