[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]In my part of the world, as I write this, we are slowly lurching on toward Winter Solstice. Midwinter, traditionally, not the “start” of winter that modern calendars like. Yule. The shortest day of the year. Like most natural phenomena, midwinter is surrounded by as many myths as there are cultures to observe it; maybe that’s why I was thinking of mythology when I chose this month’s Focus on Fiction topic.
Mythology is, in its simplest description, a search for explanations. It doesn’t matter what you’re explaining: a social ritual, the way a fir cone looks, or the fact that the days are getting shorter and then they get longer again. If you make up a story to answer a question, it’s a myth.
Myths can also be used to teach lessons or instill morality – but it still comes back to answering the question “why should I do that” or “why shouldn’t I do that.”
Let’s look at myths in the framework of questions this month, for our last Focus on Fiction.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_separator][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_toggle title=”Who?” open=”true” el_id=”1448728937366-b5cd330d-af9a”]I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel very good at adulting. And apparently neither have most people throughout history, because boy do we have a lot of myths about “who will take care of me when I don’t have parents?” Or “who made that?” This question has even been parlayed into a semi-scientific argument called the “watchmaker analogy.” The watchmaker analogy says that if you saw a watch, lying in nature, you would know that there was a watchmaker because it is so obviously created. Since it was created, there must be a creator. (see also: begging the question.)
To write a “who” myth, assume an impossible task or look around in nature and try to figure out how something was “made.”[/vc_toggle][vc_toggle title=”What?” el_id=”1448728937470-2050022a-72f0″]Ok. Maybe you don’t believe there are actually alligators in the sewers of New York, but it sure is tempting to make up stories about what’s lurking in the dark, unknown places. We may have gone from telling tales about what’s under the bed to what’s between the stars, but whether you’re talking about spiders under Windsor Castle or Shoggoths under the Antarctic, any place you can’t go is fair game for populating with mythic beasties![/vc_toggle][vc_toggle title=”When?” el_id=”1448728937562-30bddc69-7886″]Myths and time have always had a kind of casual relationship. Whether it’s forty days and forty nights or until the cows come home, myths like to anchor timelines to events rather than actual time and date. Keep this in mind when you’re populating real or imaginary worlds, not just when you’re trying to figure out if a watched pot really does boil.[/vc_toggle][vc_toggle title=”Where?” el_id=”1448728937663-8ffd41a6-c0f1″]Like the hero’s journey, myths can be heavily dependent on location. Mythical lands like “behind the waterfall,” “at the end of the rainbow,” “Oz,” or “heaven” (pick a heaven any heaven) can be beautiful or terrible, depending on the point of the story. “Where do we go when we die” is a heavily moralized myth; “where do unicorns live” is not. Think about whether you are trying to teach a lesson, set a scene, or just explain where something comes from when you are building your mythic world.
Another type of place-dependent mythos is urban fantasy, although we often don’t think of it as such. Try picking an event from current news and reinterpreting it through a mythic lens.[/vc_toggle][vc_toggle title=”Why? How?” el_id=”1448728937765-e476a58c-a902″]These are the Big Questions. The Ultimate Questions, even – although of course according to one mythos the answer is just 42. Why do the days get longer and shorter? How does a flower grow, or a homing pigeon find its way? Why do we stick to the ground instead of flying?
Myths have attempted to explain and answer these questions in a variety of ways, from single-event myths like Persephone’s pomegranate seeds to ongoing personifications like Apollo and his chariot. You can aim as large as the stars in the sky or as small as the tails of mice in a fir cone. (NB: this is not the version I learned; the version I heard growing up had Coyote in it -rbg)
When you’re writing this type of myth and looking for inspiration, look no further than the first thing you’d have to look up online to understand. Don’t bother with Google; just make something up. After all. It worked for your parents.[/vc_toggle][/vc_column][/vc_row]
