Let’s Talk Process: Play Time with the Classics

image via motorcyclespecs.co.za

Some classics earn the title by virtue of being” important” or “meaningful.” Some endure because of the author’s reputation or the bold exploration of a new technique (sometimes successful, sometimes not so much).

And some stories, or at least elements of said, stick around because they are a hell of a lot of fun.

Exhibit one: King Arthur (Knights! Green Knights! Magic cups!)

Exhibit two: The Three Musketeers (Adventure! Romance! Evil Cardinals! Action! Duels! Bromance!)

Exhibit three: Treasure Island (Pirates! Pirates! Also, Pirates!)

People seem to connect most with the fun stories, choose those when they want to play with a classic, to reincarnate, reboot, update, gender swap, borrow from, pay homage to, parody, etc.

Heh heh. It says, “booty.” image via amazon.com

As with books in general, some of the finished products are good, some are terrible, and some sort of float around and exist.

The good ones have a few things in common:

1)      Knowledge of the source material: If you’re going to screw with a book, read it. I’m not talking massive tomes of litcrit. That which is important to the “experts” doesn’t count for crap in this sort of project; hat matter is what’s important to you, what grabs you. To know what those things are, you need to read the original. If you’re going to toy with the Musketeers or the Count of Monte Christo, Frankenstein or Dr Jeckyll, read the original (in the case of the later two, and some select others, this may mean suffering for your art). Don’t depend on the movie versions, even those that are loyal to the text (and even those usually fall short); they, like any criticism, are someone interpretation of the text. Trust yourself: you know what you like, what you find significant, and you know which elements of the classic will suit your style and your story.

2)      Plan or continuity and context of changes: If you want to gender swap Long John Silver, you may want to make your Treasure Island a space opera or, at the very least, explain how a woman would have ended up a pirate back in the day; anomalies can be fantastic, but you can’t just throw the grenade and duck into the trench hoping no one will notice. Want King Arthur to be an elected leader? Take him out of Medieval England or alt up your universe because no, that would not have happened and the writer wishing does not make it so. Making Constance a major player in a Musketeer adventure? Give her the backstory she lacks as D’Artangnan’s love interest and make us care about her as an individual. If you alter the world, you’re going to have to rebuild at least some of it. Plan, prepare, and get your hands dirty, lest you be labeled a copy cat.

3)      Don’t assume all of your readers will have read the original. There’s no need for an exhaustive info-dump, but shade in the background enough to give some form and shape.

4)      If you choose to do research, choose to include a bibliography. Acknowledging the work of others is only polite. Also legally prudent

5)      Most of the stories in the collective have been told before, there’s nothing new under the sun, blah blah blah. If you’re going to take a classic and reshape it, something needs to be new to that story. Give it a kick in the ass or pile-drive it.

And now I want potato skins…
image via instructables.com

Deconstruct or twice bake. Make it your own. Make it something only you could have written even though, technically, it’s something someone else wrote, at least at its roots. Dumas did a great job with his Musketeers. They don’t need your help. Yours do.

6)      Have fun. There’s something about this original you felt was worth your very precious (no sarcasm implied or intended) writing time. Enjoy working your magic on whatever it is.

Go forth, kids, and build cyborgs out of those skeletons. Someday, someone will do you the same honor.