Stan Nicholls on The Quicksilver Trilogy

One of the most important aspects of any novel is its central idea. The strength of this single concept alone may appear to govern the overall success of a book but if you look closely, you'll see that a http://www.sandyauden.co.uk/images/skein.jpggood novel is steadfastly supported by a host of smaller, equally essential ideas.

Author Stan Nicholls has created two major fantasy universes already – in his Nightshade and Orcs: First Blood series – so he's familiar with how many ideas are hiding in the detail of a well-fleshed story. Now, in his new stories about outlaw Reeth Caldason and magician's apprentice Kutch, he's built a brand new world. And sure enough, in the Quicksilver series - Quicksilver Rising and Quicksilver Zenith (so far) - the tale of political skulduggery and war between kingdoms is built on the solid foundations of a coherent world and magic system.

So how does Nicholls create a new magical system?

Like any other element of a story. I guess it’s true for most writers that ideas come in fragments - it’s rare to have a completely formed outline drop on you, though it does happen. The trigger might be a phrase, an image, even a single word. Mostly it’s a concept, which you try massaging into life.

Most stories, fantasy or otherwise, tend to start with “what if?” Basically, the question’s “How would the world be if ... ” I’ve written quite a few stories based on the “what if” principle. Examples? Let’s see, I’ve used how would it be if a fatal disease appeared that only infected people who believe in God. What if children were regarded as vermin, literally. Suppose every living creature on Earth woke up one day incredibly fat. What if money was really an alien life form. Those are random examples, but you get my drift.

The point is that it’s a process of extrapolation. You take an idea like any of those and ask yourself some fundamental questions about it. Perhaps having been a journalist kicks in here for me, because the questions are the classic who, what, where, when, why and how.

Take Quicksilver Rising. Once you’ve thought of a magical system like that, all sorts of ramifications occur. For example, in a world where magic has a monetary and social value, people are going to do what they do with currency in our world. So you’d have counterfeit magic. Bootleg magic. Fabulous magic that aggrandises its rich owners or meagre magic as a comfort for the poor. In other words you make your concept evolve.

Why do you think magic is such a popular mythology even in the technological wonderland of the 21st Century?

Maybe it’s increasingly popular because we live in such a technologically-driven age. Technology brings lots of benefits, but a downside is that it can leave people feeling a bit overwhelmed and even alienated. That could be one of the reasons why the notion of magic catches the imaginations of so many people. It might be a contributing factor to the current popularity of fantasy fiction in general.

The idea of magic is quite seductive, and of course its appeal isn’t new; it’s been an abiding fantasy for a very long time. It’s especially attractive to children. That’s partly because younger minds tend to be more open to accepting fantastical propositions. But there’s also the empowerment aspect. What bullied kid wouldn’t love to be able to turn their tormentor into a slug, or set a fire-breathing dragon on a rotten teacher? Another fascination is that magic’s usually presented as exclusive - its practitioners are a fraternity, a brotherhood - and that kind of elitism is a powerful daydream. There are times when most of us feel like outcasts, whatever our age, and the possibility that we might have or could acquire magical powers can be kind of cheering.

Undoubtedly a good deal of J.K. Rowling’s success can be put down to the fact that she understands this. If you accept the proposition that many adults are just kids in disguise - and that certainly applies to a lot of writers - you can see why magic has such a hold.

You significantly change your magic system with each set of novels. How easy do you find it to re-invent the magical wheel every time?

I have ideas for three or four magical systems I haven’t used yet - fairly complete ideas - and several more at a notional stage. These are ideas that have occurred to me over a period of time, in some cases, years ago, and weren’t tied to any specific story.

The magical system in Quicksilver Rising and Quicksilver Zenith wasn’t taken from any of those existing ideas - none of them really fitted. The one I used occurred to me when I was working-up the plot. There was always going to be magic in the Quicksilver trilogy, I just wasn’t sure what form it would take or how integral it was going to be. That was a worry, because I’m a firm believer in all plot elements having a relevant function, and I didn’t want magic just for the sake of it, or because it was expected of a fantasy.

So I came up with a world where magic was all-pervasive both in the sense of its abundance and as a social signifier. Magic as a commodity, a currency, a technology, and, most importantly, as a prop for a class system, where your social status is reflected in the quality of the sorcery you pay for. So I kind of turned that elite idea of magic on its head, because in this world everybody has access to it. Only, human nature being what it is, there are still elites, based on material worth.

There's a pleasant element of humour in both Quicksilver volumes to date - like when Caldason and Kutch are accosted at the door to an inn by a magical talking dragon, expounding the wares of his establishment. How important are these details to a story?

Well, for a start, I don’t seem capable of writing anything that doesn’t have at least a bit of humour, even if it’s of the gallows variety. I don’t apologise for that. Humour’s one of the range of emotions people display in any given situation, even dire ones. Especially dire ones, very often. It’s an essential a part of the human psyche and as such it’ll always feature in my writing.

The other thing, and I know I run the risk of sounding pretentious here, is that my attitude to the conventions of the genre is to both respect them and to try subverting them. Fantasy’s robust enough to have the piss taken out of its tropes; to have some of its cherished assumptions questioned, twisted or gently sent up. I don’t do this cynically - the challenges are built on affection.

The actual function of the scene you’re referring to - where two characters with differing view of magic are confronted by one of its animate products - is to show a little bit more about the world the story’s set in, as well as illustrating those characters’ personalities.

Do the characters arrive in this new world fully formed?

Sometimes. But it’s rare for even a fully developed character not to change once the writing starts. The thing about characters “taking over” really is a truism, for me at least. Sometimes they start doing it quite early on, other times they hang back before letting you know the way they want to go. It’s wise to listen to them.

Even if they seem to be pulling you in a direction you hadn’t anticipated, they’re more often right than wrong. It’s a strange thing, and it sounds a bit crazy, but I’ve long accepted it.

How does magic in a story affect the plot?

It can entirely determine the plot, of course, if it’s central to your story. At the very least it should be integral, or else why have it at all? But it can’t be an end in itself; it has to be one of the factors that affects your characters. There has to be some interplay between it and them, because stories are about people.

In my previous trilogy, Orcs: First Blood, for example, one of the McGuffins is that the magic’s going away. The power’s being trashed by marauding incomers - who happen to be humans - as they despoil the land. Which means all the indigenous races are having to adjust to the chaos of a post-magic world. Except the orcs, who never had the ability to command magic in the first place. So the threatened absence of magic is creating a power shift.

I tend to see magic as a neutral energy, a bit like electricity. And in the same way that electricity can be used to power a kidney dialysis machine or an electric chair, the magic’s coloured by the intent of its users. It isn’t good or bad; its a positive or negative force depending on the characters it filters through. It’s back to people again, in other words.

I think it’s a terrible cheat to use magic to resolve difficult situations though, and I try hard to avoid the “with one bound he was free” syndrome. That short-changes the reader and indicates a lack of imagination on the writer’s part.

With so many different aspects to create for a new world, which ones do you find the easiest?

It sounds paradoxical, but I find writing gets both easier and harder the more I do it. I’m currently on my twenty-third book, the concluding Quicksilver volume, and it’s still a marathon.

I think it gets easier in the sense that you learn certain techniques and tricks that move things along. It’s harder mainly because you’re always conscious of wanting to do better than you did last time, in terms of the story you tell and the style you tell it in. I have a fairly visual imagination, and generally speaking I can make a scene work if I can “see” it.

Likewise, I can put over a dialogue exchange once it sounds right to my inner ear. In respect of the latter, like a lot of writers I’m constantly listening as much as people watching. Almost everything that goes on around you can be grist for the mill. It’s true to say that the more you enjoy what you write the better it goes - I believe it reads better, too. That’s self-evident, I suppose; if you can’t be captivated by what you write, you can’t expect a reader to be either.

And to captivate anyone successfully takes a strong plot and a convincing and logical social, historical, magical and political background. How do you pull all that together without overwhelming the reader with too much detail?

Increasingly I make lots of notes about all aspects of a book. But when it comes to the actual writing I employ the iceberg principle - I generally know ninety percent more about what’s going on than I tell the reader, and that’s especially true of the characters. It’s the old “less is more” rule - another bit of writing magic.

A temptation that has to be resisted is cramming in everything - all your research, all your ideas, every tiny detail of a character’s life. You don’t even necessarily have to go to town describing a character; it’s much more effective conveying their traits through what they do and say.

Respect the intelligence of your reader and leave them to fill in the gaps. It’s a bit like radio in that respect - the best pictures are the ones the reader has in their own heads. You just hand them a brush and canvas.


Quicksilver Rising and Quicksilver Zenith are published by HarperCollins/Voyager in trade paperback at £11.99.


For more details about the author visit his website at http://www.stannicholls.com


© Sandy Auden 2003
Originally commissioned for Voyager publisher's website