Loss
One of the themes I explore in my trilogy is the power of loss—how it shapes you, often defines you, and changes you. Also, what loss teaches you about yourself by the way or ways in which you face it and, hopefully, deal with it. I can say that I have never met anyone (other than a newborn) who had never faced loss of some kind in their lives and I certainly have on several occasions in mine. The loss of a loved one whose absence leaves a hole so big in you that you are certain you will never fill it. Or the loss of an ability that you were certain was the keystone of your very existence. Or the loss of place which rocks your identity to its core because you don’t know where you belong anymore. Or something as simple as the loss of an object that was important to you.
Most of these types of losses are intense and often very difficult to navigate. Some, not as much. We can always buy a new favorite pen, but we can’t replace the person or pet or ideal or hero or sense of home. Those losses will always haunt us and shape us no matter how much time has passed. Last year, I lost two people I dearly loved; and I still feel as empty today as the moment I heard they had died. I still have them in my contacts because I can’t bear to remove them because removing them means they are gone; and the realization that if I call or text either number and they won’t be at the other end still sucks the life out of me. It’s a void that will never be filled no matter how much time has passed.
Knowing what I know about loss, you may then ask why I introduced it into my trilogy. You’d sound a bit like my husband who banned taking me to any more Nicholas Sparks’ movies after seeing “Message in a Bottle” because, as he put it, “No one wants that kind of a sucky ending. You go to a movie to escape crap like that not watch it.” He also didn’t approve of my answer that life is not fair and bad things happen. His answer? “It’s Hollywood. What do they care about reality?” I guess the same could be said about authors, especially fantasy authors. I mean, we’re inventing a totally new and magical world with unreal characters, species, and magic; so why couldn’t we just make a totally happy and fair story with only the evil villains suffering? Here’s why as far as I’m concerned: we need reality even in a totally make believe world. We need loss and pain and frustration as much as we need joy and success. Both help us grow and evolve.
In my trilogy, all of my characters, even the villains, have suffered loss—some more tragic than others, but loss just the same. They have also experienced joy in many forms and brought on by many different circumstances. These experiences have shaped them into the interesting characters they are in my books. Syllé has seen her home destroyed by one who was bent on her destruction. She witnessed betrayals at the hands of friends. She was unable to save either of her best friends from death nor could she stop the kingdom of Shara that she loved so dearly from being annihilated. She lost friend after friend and suffered so many defeats; yet, she never stopped fighting for those she loved and for what she believed was right. She also experienced profound joy in the family she created—an adopted father (Falinor), two capricious brothers (Finn and Kwin), a sister (Hil), a brother/friend (Halicyon), and love. All of this brought her laughter which shaped her along with her losses.
Tarin lost the only home he’d ever known when Shara was destroyed. He also lost his father who was his hero and someone he loved dearly. On top of that, he had to leave his father behind to save his mother and sister—a deed that will always haunt him. What if he had stayed? Maybe he could have saved his father? Found a way out of the mountain to safety? Those doubts and nightmares never leave Tarin alone and are one of the many reasons why he is short-tempered, always doubting, always trying to prove himself, and desperately afraid of losing anyone else. So, he fights hard for those around him and makes every decision based upon how he will keep his family and people safe. Even Therendé’al, the Dréor, suffered loss and it shaped him and warped him into something twisted and dark. Dark enough to turn him from the right path and onto a never ending journey into darkness.
That’s what loss does: it gives us a choice, or many choices, and the one we choose shapes up further. We can become stronger, weaker, happier, angrier, or a combination of all those based on the choice we make to deal with and face the void. How each of my characters face their losses and their pain is a reflection of the ways I have faced loss in my life as well as how I’ve seen others handle it. I have been proud of myself and desperately embarrassed by my actions; but all of my choices and their consequences and epiphanies have shaped me into the slightly neurotic, socially terrified, fiercely principled person that I am today. Just like everyone else has been shaped by what they’ve experienced. That’s what makes writing authentic and relatable—being honest with your readers, your characters. Letting pieces of you show through what you write. That’s what makes fantasy reality.