The Saga of Sagas (and Structure)

This week I am studying Icelandic Sagas. Why, you may ask? Well, first things first, they're compared to Homer (if Homer wrote short stories). For that alone, you just have to know more... I mean, don't you?

What I've discovered so far is that they broke the mold in terms of prose! They were telling it like it was. Here's why (I've read, and it makes sense to me):

In the 1100s, writers in most countries in Europe were writing for the leisured class, and so they were mainly writing schmancy pieces in poetry. But in Norway, Vikings were dividing themselves between those who favored a more "modern" ruling system, and those who (like cowboys riding West) decided to maintain their old ways in the new world: Iceland. The Sagas were written by the latter (the cowboys) back to "the motherland," Norway, and as such, the Sagas were written for each other, not just for a lord or lady; they were written in plain, human, endearingly wise and funny language to be a reminder of their shared history and a record of their "new" history.

It should be said at this point (you may already be ahead of me) but, like the Bible, the Sagas were written a few hundred years after the events had taken place (say the people in the sagas lived around 900s-ish, and the sagas were written more like 1100s-ish).

We know almost nothing about the writers. According to my Penguin copy of Egil's Saga, this particular story may have been written by a known historian who was descended from Egil, and if that's true, he's the only writer known.

The main reason, however, that I went down this rabbit hole is because I was looking for a medium and structure to tell a bunch of little, interconnected stories that have been haunting me. I thought for a while, maybe radio scripts? Then I thought no, just writing short stories will be simplest (less "busy") (and maybe easier to sell a book of stories than record a radio series...), so I'll take a break for scripts and make some short stories. Great!

But THEN I thought, the thing with short stories is, personally, I don't super love reading them. At least, not a bunch in a row. They get mixed in my head like immediately. I don't think I'm alone on this one?

What I wanted, I thought, was some way to write a series of short stories but to string them together so they're like a single, irresistible quest-- like a saga, I thought.. And then I thought, what even is a saga anyway? And I looked it up and it turns out there is only one narrative structure that can be called 'saga.' The Icelandic Sagas. So here we are.

And my hope is (I freely confess) that I can find one of the sagas that has a structure I can completely lift out and then fit my new stories into. If it comes across like Homer wrote a short story set in metagalactic space (writing messages back to "the motherland" earth)-- so be it. Or, if not Homer, maybe Douglas Adams will nod his head in approval. God, I love both those guys.

I'll close with a message to writers (currently of earth) across mediums on the matter of "structure," and that message is: I can't recommend a good structure enough.

When you have a structure in mind before you start sketching out the main pieces, it's like laying down the keel of a ship (high story line), and its ribs (acts) before building the bulkheads (beats) and putting on the skin of the vessel (dialogue in this metaphor, to keep the ship afloat).

I read a lot of writing in draft stages, and I suppose it's relevant to say here that I've been reading a lot of writing in draft stages since high school, almost 25 years now (gosh), and I've noticed a recent change that pertains here. Lately, I see a lot of really good dialogue-- but the work itself doesn't have any shape! It's just like a puddle of kinda entertaining, kinda insightful, pretty pithy dialogue. Which is nice, you know, but the conversation never peaks, or ebbs; it just sort of stays at 1 pitch being kind of clever and raising some interesting ideas...

For my taste, dialogue alone is not sufficiently demanding of interest and real engagement from an audience. There needs to be shape. Not just substance. That's what I think when I look at a lot of these new works-- it's like they've got a fantastic tent here, like something out of Harry Potter even, but it's completely disassembled; it's just loose parts puddled together on the ground. What can you do with that... It's got to be built. (If this resonates with you, call me on The Red Phone for Writers, we can talk about how to go about devising and building a structure!)

Of course it's subjective, and I'm a fan of Kerouac just like anyone, but even Kerouac is a conscious (stream of conscious) departure from formal structure. It's an integral/fundamental choice for any and every new work. Beyond which, studying structure is a hugely interesting part of a writer's lifelong self-education. There are SO MANY structures to explore and examine and experiment with.

For instance, when I had more or less committed to writing WE The PYRATES last year, and I was taking early notes and considerations for myself, I struggled for about a week trying to fit my main plot points into a 2-act play structure. It was just so damn crowded; I didn't like the look of it at all. So I tried again with a 3 act structure-- better, but still no. Didn't like it.

Then Richard, my handsome partner in life and art, says to me-- you know the 5-act structure holds up as well as it does for a reason. And he's absolutely right. This is Shakespeare's structure. Well, I've made a fair survey of this in the course of much making/ watching/reading/discussing Shakespeare... so I make an attempt of PYRATES in a 5-act structure and HEHAR but it worked perfectly!

AND, after I'd laid the "keel" and "ribs" of the PYRATES ship in my 5-act structure-- I then found the easiest way to condense and activate all the myriad pieces I wanted to make a part of this play-- the easiest way was to write it in verse! Never would I have imagined that writing a 5-act play in verse would have been the path of least resistance in telling a sweeping historical story-- but thanks to a conscious consideration of structure, I found myself wondering if I was sitting in the same headspace Shakespeare had been in when he was outlining his Henry VIs...not that I'm Shakespeare, but you get what I mean.

And for now, from one ship to the next! You can read WE The PYRATES for free right here (if ye likes). And while you visit the Bahamas in 1718, I'm off to see what medieval Iceland knows!