Questions & Answers 2

Hello, ladies and gentlemen. This is the second questions and answers post I’ve decided to write on Hornet: Origins. I’ll briefly elaborate on the theme of asexuality, the setting and some of my thought process behind the framing of the story.

Q: Is Hornet going to be portrayed as asexual from the start, or is there going to be an event that will tip her off to that fact?

A: The process in which a character learns about their identity, especially if it has to do with your sexual orientation, is truly a fascinating topic. I think this is something that queer authors love to explore in their work; how did they come to realize who they really are. Hornet’s asexuality is going to be mostly just implied, however. I can’t have her go around shrieking about cake and the color purple.

You’ll find that with aces, in general we really dislike talking about these subjects altogether, because they don’t do anything for us. They’re boring. The most overt way in which an ace can manifest themselves is by being as indifferent as possible in whatever intimate faculty their peers want to entice them with. Think of it almost as if less is more.

Some of my favorite characters in media aren’t overtly ace but rather, their lack of interest in any romantic engagements leaves the audience guessing how much do they really care about that kind of stuff to begin with. In other words, the thing most notable about their romantic life is nothing. And to an ace, that’s quite something.

Despite that, I do have a certain story point planned that should clearly telegraph Hornet’s preferences. It’s going to be a light-hearted moment but nevertheless character-defining. Look forward to it.

Q: Can you shed some more light on the setting?

A: I try to keep the details of the setting vague since I think it’s easy to write yourself into a corner or create limitations clashing with the type of story you want to tell. Establishing the rudimentary rules for your setting – whatever truths supposedly govern your universe – should be a very long process. The way I like to do it is to come up with an idea, then juggle it in my head for a few days, then write it down and build on top of it. Then I’ll come up with a different idea and see if it makes more sense and gives me opportunities to create something presumably better. I never just sit down and work. Every day I listen to podcasts on ancient history or watch video essays on distant, unusual cultures, so I can constantly keep my mental clipboard occupied. That is, I think, key to creating an engrossing, believable setting; it’s fascination by the unknown, cultivated rigorously.

It’s important to keep in mind that limitations aren’t inherently bad things in a story. I strongly believe having a strict set of rules makes it easier for the audience to get invested, so that when the said rules are broken, you can create a serious moment of tension. I purposely stipulated that the setting of Origins would be very low fantasy, with the magical element present, but subdued. I’ve never been a fan of stories where people hurl fireballs or cast lightning out of thin air just because they’re mages; every time I see magic in a movie or a book, my brain immediately goes to, “what are the limits of this? Why can’t you just blow up literally everything from a hundred miles away? If you can do this whenever you want, why isn’t magic used for anything other than epic sorcerer showdowns?”

Anyway, I’ve ideas for the larger players in the story, with some minor cultures sprinkled all throughout the outskirts of every major realm. The two kingdoms that I’ve fleshed out the most are the icy, more savage and primitive realm of Ydin, and the mainland empire sprawling several different peoples, known as the Hegemony. Hornet herself will be void of any political allegiance to either, since she’s an outcast. Ydin will have the audience’s initial sympathy just because that’s where Hornet grows up, but also because it’s going to be the realm that the Hegemony launches a full scale invasion on. A good parallel would have to be the crusades of the early Middle Ages, or Julius Caesar’s subjugation of the Gallic tribes. I resent the notion of showing my bias towards either side and I’ll do my best to let the reader make up their own judgement. There will be outlines of other distinct empires I’ve come up with (one heavily inspired by the Aztecs), but they won’t be too significant as far as Origins is concerned. They might be mentioned somewhere offhandedly as a means of world building.

I’ve two characters planned for the comic, hailing from very distant parts of the world. One of them is a more daring, hotheaded and rather high strung person compared to Hornet, but with a heart of gold buried deep underneath. The other will be a comic relief character, the brains of the pack; very book smart, but with little grasp of what it’s like to have your feet in the mud. It’s good to contrast your main character by giving them somebody with a vastly different personality; you might find your protagonist made much more interesting by proxy.

Q: How would you describe Ydin and the Hegemony? What are their peoples like? What are their customs and lifestyles?

A: I will give a brief glimpse into one of those, just for the sake of flavor. Ydin is a kingdom built on top of the frozen wastes far to the north, its borders secluded by a narrow, treacherous canal serving as a natural barrier between their realm and the rest of Asana. Its inhabitants, the Ydee, were once a peaceful race, not predisposed to warfare in the slightest, but years of strife preceding the events of Origins had tempered them into a somewhat aloof people, with little more than prejudice towards anyone outside their domain. Their political integrity had been ensured, however, by their singular ability to tame massive beasts native to their homeland, creatures resembling a cross between a boar and a small elephant, with the voracity of the former and the strength of the latter. The Ydee learned how to tame and ride those beasts, giving them an edge against often much stronger and numerically superior opponents.

Q: Is there some kind of creation myth planned for the entire world that’ll describe the roots of the universe?

A: There is going to be a canonical timeline of events, but only I will have access to it. It’s really just there so I can consult my notes and make sure I don't contradict myself somewhere down the pike. Everything else will be told in a way as to avoid cluttering the reader with too much information right off the bat.

I like toying with the idea of how the origin myth is told, and how reliable the narrator is, rather than what the myth speaks of. Those types of prologues are usually so dislodged from the characters we are then introduced to that I find them superfluous at best. I am not the world's biggest fan of introductions that recite dozens of names, locations and other fantasy Jabberwocky growls, expecting you to be invested from the offset. I intend to share bits of the greater story at play, give the viewer enough information to work with and trust that they’ll draw conclusions based off of their own observations. I think that’s a much more engaging way of endearing the viewer to your story than by presenting them with an unbiased, well established world that they now have to take at face value. In real world history, there's always a level of anachronism and synchronicity; things which should make sense, but just don't. That's what I aim to replicate. I’d always develop fondness for stories, where I felt like I could fill in the gaps on my own; insert myself into the setting, somewhere, anywhere. In my graphic novel, you can do this; you will see echoes of things that I, as an author, won't explicitly call attention to, so that as a reader you can feel more empowered when your discovery bears fruit.

That said, sometimes an introduction is necessary to ease the audience into a new world. Some greater, fundamental truths that the rest of the story can comfortably sit on top of. The audience likes having something tangible to work off of, something they can trust the author to be true. This is why I need that document I mentioned earlier, something I can always consult to make you believe that everything in my world is being governed by some internal logic. Even if you aren't always privy to it.

That’ll be all for now.