Trumpets! Fanfares! Jumping up and down!
Why all the
hullabaloo? Because my new novel for kids comes out this week! It's a fantasy
called
The Wrinkled Crown, about a girl named Linny who breaks an ancient law,
gets her best friend into terrible trouble, and then must travel to the ends of
her world to try to set things right.
My first two books (
The Cabinet of Earths and
A Box of Gargoyles) were both set in the magical old city of Paris, a place that really
exists. Of course I added bits and pieces, but the real Paris provided all
sorts of wonderful material.
The Wrinkled Crown, however, is set in an entirely made-up
universe, and over the last few years I have learned that this process we call
"worldbuilding" is a little like building a half-organic,
half-mechanical onion from the inside out, layer after complicated layer. There's
a lot more to it than simply figuring out
where
the mountains and rivers go, though in Linny's small but weird universe--a
world divided into "wrinkled" and "Plain" regions--both
mountains and rivers present some real challenges. In my computer case I still
carry around a shopworn sketch I made of her world, "both the mappable and
unmappable halves."
A map of an unmappable place! That's enough to
make paradox-loving me as happy as a dry-water clam.
But worldbuilding goes way beyond topography. You also have
to build up the culture(s) of the people who live in that world. Linny is born
into a village way up high in the wrinkled hills, where magic is everywhere,
stories have a somewhat disquieting way of coming true, and music is
all-important. In her village, boys are apprenticed to experts to learn the art
of making the lourka, a stringed
instrument unique to Linny's world. Girls, however, are strictly forbidden even
to touch a lourka. This is a big problem for Linny, who is born
"hummy" and can't be kept from music . . . .
At a relatively early stage in the worldbuilding process, I
did a lot of research into instrument making. A friendly local luthier (Joan
Balter!) gave me some tips, and then said, "Here's the book we all read at
some point!"--and lent me an ancient, crumbling, nineteenth-century tome with
an appropriately tome-like title:
Violin-Making,
As It Was and Is: Being a Historical, Theoretical, and Practical Treatise on
the Science and Art of Violin-Making for the Use of Violin Makers and Players,
Amateur and Professional (by Edward Heron-Allen, in the 1880s).
From this
book I learned about choosing the best trees (maple and pine, preferably from
the south side of the forest: "Maple" and "Pine" became the
formal names of Linny's twin brothers, though everyone calls them
"Maybe" and "Pie"), how long to store the wood (preferably
cut in wedges) so that it can cure (for several years), and what sorts of
ingredients to put into the varnish (including linseed oil, pressed from the
seeds of a plant with small five-petalled flowers: Linny decorates her lourka
with one of these "linny flowers").
I made a checklist of such details in order to sneak them
into the story wherever I could. And then I moved to the next layer of the
worldbuilding onion: what would the folklore
of such a place be like? What sayings and proverbs would people use in a
place so soaked in music and magic?
Here are some of the sayings I came up with--and really, I
think they're so handy and helpful that I encourage us all to use them in our
everyday life in THIS world! I mean: why not? :)
1. "Not until the feather scorches!"
Meaning: Wait
until the right moment to leap, escape, or otherwise make your next move.
Source: Varnish
making. Feathers were used to test the temperature of the linseed oil before
you added other key ingredients.
A moment from The Wrinkled Crown: "Varnishes
can't be hastened, Linny knew from sad experience. If you got impatient and
added the juniper gum to the kettle before the linseed oil was really, truly
burning hot, unusable glop would be the result.
Any child
of Lourka had heard the expression a million times: 'Not until the feather
scorches.'
Linny sat
tight.
Hang on, hang on, she told
herself."
Possible use in our
world: Good for muttering to oneself while waiting for the best possible
moment to leap into a heated discussion--speak too soon, and the discussion may
not yet be quite ready for the addition of your fine ideas. Wait until the feather scorches!
2. "Don't go varnishing flies!"
Meaning: Don't let
any little daily unpleasantnesses between you and your loved ones stick around
in a permanent way.
Source: Varnish
making, again. Lourkas (like some violins) require as many as fifteen coats of
varnish. As Linny's father explains, "Got to pick out any dust or little
critters stuck there before the next coat goes on. Otherwise you're just
varnishing flies, see?"
A moment from The Wrinkled Crown: "'Ah,' said
her father. 'And you two went home all quarreled up, letting some little thing
fester. That's varnishing flies, Linny, and you oughtn't do it.'"
Possible use in our
world: A useful New Year's Resolution, for sure: to dig out the little dings
gumming up our friendships before they've set themselves in stone, to do all we can not to go varnishing flies.
3. "Strings and sausages!"
Meaning: The
making of lovely things (strings, sausages, and books, for example) can be rather
messy and disgusting, when examined closely.
Source: The
production of gut strings and sausages, two processes any child raised in the
village of Lourka would know something about.
A moment from The Wrinkled Crown: "'It's all
strings and sausages around here, have you noticed?' Linny said to the cat. It
was a saying from home, used for things that are good and pleasant in
themselves, but you don't want to think too much about how they're made. 'You
don't know where lourka strings come from--well, never mind.'
That lovely
jam and those lovely eggs, paid for by the magician's awful weapons! It made
her determined, all over again, to find her way out of this house."
Possible use in our
world: "Wow, how calm you always seem, Elizabeth, as you raise your
two sets of triplets and publish that weekly column on meditation
practices!"
"Ha!
Well! If only you knew: It's all strings
and sausages, strings and sausages!"
What expressions from
fictional worlds do you find yourself using, in your everyday life?
(I, for instance, still say "going tharn" about
freezing in the face of something scary or overwhelming: a phrase I picked up
from Watership Down, by Richard
Adams.)