To Prologue or Not To Prologue?

I am in the midst of a dilemma. The action in my fantasy novel is motivated by something that happened in the past, specifically, a civil war. Now, if I were to refer to the American Civil War, readers would instantly have a frame of reference. But because this takes place in a different world, they have no idea who fought whom or why, or who won.

I wrote the first chapter so that it jumps right into the story and I love the way it flows, but my test readers are begging to know more information about what happened before, and about the world and its people, so that they can put the current action into context.

So, the other day I inserted some expository material, but think it interrupts that lovely flow I used to have. So now I'm considering a brief prologue - or forward - or whatever you call it. Maybe just two paragraphs, like those words that scroll at the beginning of Star Wars.

But I’m also thinking, “Well, hey, maybe it’s a good thing that they want to know more. Maybe that will keep them reading.” As the book is now, the history from the past is explained mostly in some dialogue in Chapter Two, and also in other dribs and drabs throughout the story.

So, today I am putting up the opening, with and without the exposition, for my readers to comment on. Do you think the book needs some kind of prologue or introduction? Do you think it needs more exposition within Chapter One? Or should I just keep the opening as it is and make my readers continue to... well... read?

(Postscript: after doing a little quick research, I realized that what I am really considering is an Introduction, not a Prologue.)

(P.P.S. After all of the excellent comments, I posted yet another version here:

The Revised Revised Opening)
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The Golden Gryphon, Chapter One (Original Version)


In the cold crack of winter, the lions came down from the mountains. Nightstalkers, the farmers called them: huge, sleek, black prowlers that hunted at night. They carried off sheep, goats, chickens and, very occasionally, children. Before the War they had been a rare nuisance, a useful source of tales to keep youngsters in their beds at night and frighten them into good behavior. But the King’s brother Synedd, in his ceaseless grasping for the throne, had seen their potential in warfare and had trained them to hunt in packs. The females mainly hunted for food; this had always been the case. But Synedd bred males for his own use, created blood-lust in them and taught them to hunt for sport. He had used them to supplement his army of traitors, making up in beasts what he lacked in soldiers.

After Synedd’s defeat, the nightstalkers were scattered. Most had been killed in battle but a few survived, returning to their lone ways in the mountains. The Rangers and the unicorns hunted these. Unicorns were especially adept at lion-skewering; their horns were long and deadly. But unicorns were unpredictable, coming and going as shadows. In recent years they had became more scarce, returning to the deeper forests as the Hanorja rebuilt their farms and prospered in the post-war peace. The Rangers, however, diligently studied the lions’ habits; in the years following the War they became renowned for their prowess at tracking and killing the lions.

So it was Faldur Relazen’s task, as captain of the Ranger pack assigned to the Silverbark Vallen, to hunt down the nightstalker that had been plaguing the farms in the wardlands around Glenhym Castle. Lord Tarnbel, the King-appointed Lord Defender, or Delfenward, of Glenhym, had sent a message to the post at Burnwood which had reached Faldur on patrol. Lord Tarnbel had fought with Faldur’s father in the War; the Captain and his men were always sure of a warm welcome at Glenhym. So Faldur would have helped him out of friendship as well as duty, in any case.

It was not a duty he cherished, however, especially on Midwinter’s Eve. It was a hard thing to pass up the all-night celebration and go out into the snow in search of a wretched monster that would just as soon eat him as whatever livestock it was stalking. But, the sooner it was done the sooner he could join the dancing in the great hall. He only hoped it didn’t take all night...

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The Golden Gryphon, Chapter One (Revised Version)

In the cold crack of winter, the lions came down from the mountains. Night-stalkers, the farmers called them: huge, sleek, black prowlers that hunted at night. They carried off sheep, goats, chickens and, very occasionally, children. Before the War they had been a rare nuisance, a useful source of tales to keep youngsters in their beds at night and frighten them into good behavior. But the King’s brother Synedd, in his ceaseless grasping for the throne, had seen their potential in warfare and had trained them to hunt in packs. The females mainly hunted for food; this had always been the case. But Synedd bred males for his own use, created blood-lust in them and taught them to hunt for sport. He had used them to supplement his army of traitors, making up in beasts what he lacked in soldiers.

[Despite this lack, he had been successful in turning a third of the Delfenwards, or lord defenders, against the King. This was not the first time in Hanorjan history that one of the royal family had used his powers against his own people, but it was the first in many hundreds of years. The Hanorja were an unusual people: small of stature, keenly intelligent, and slow to make war - but deadly when their wrath was finally roused. They excelled at pottery, weaving, poetry and music. The long winters in Belhanor gave them time to hone these crafts, and their houses were brightly decorated both inside and out.

The common people possessed a small, practical kind of magic, which they used in small, practical ways. The line of the kings, however, possessed much greater powers which they used for the benefit of the kingdom. Some said that the Hanorja were distant relatives of men, some said of the elves, and others neither. They themselves only knew that they were Hanorja, and that their ancestors had come over the mountains in ages past.

When Synedd turned against his brother Elmeth and killed him, Elmeth’s sons, led by Elmoran, the eldest, drove Synedd and his followers into the mountains. Elmoran himself fought Synedd on the peak of Mount Cairfelen from which he fell, though his body was never recovered. Elmoran was then crowned King, and ordered all the traitors beheaded and their wardlands divided among those who had been loyal to him, in accordance with their service. The war was over; the kingdom restored. The Hanorja repaired their homes, replanted their fields and made songs to commemorate the dead, especially their beloved King.]

Most of the nightstakers were killed in battle, but a few survived, returning to their lone ways in the mountains. The Rangers diligently studied the lions’ habits; in the score of years following the War they became renowned for their prowess at tracking and killing the lions.

So it was Faldur Relaszen’s task, as captain of the Ranger pack assigned to the Silverbark Vallen, to hunt down the nightstalker that had been plaguing the farms in the wardlands around Glenhym Castle. Lord Tarnbel, the Delfenward of Glenhym, had sent a message to the post at Burnwood which reached Faldur on patrol. Lord Tarnbel had fought with Faldur’s father in the War; the Captain and his men were always sure of a warm welcome at Glenhym. So Faldur would have helped him out of friendship as well as duty, in any case.

It was not a duty he cherished, however, especially on Midwinter’s Eve. It was a hard thing to pass up the all-night celebration and go out into the snow in search of a wretched monster that would just as soon eat him as whatever livestock it was stalking. But, the sooner it was done the sooner he could join the dancing in the Great Hall. He only hoped it didn’t take all night...

Back in the flow

I stopped trying to do publishing-related stuff yesterday and went back to just working on the story itself, which is much more satisfying. I'm past 52,000 words in the new draft, which is well past the halfway point. And I think I may have beaten the problem in Chapter 31. I had an inspiration this morning and put in a new scene. We'll see.

More mundane tasks rule my week... but the book will still be there, waiting.

I was watching "Lost in Austen" today while grading papers. My, that was a head spinner! The implications of changing plot points were seriously highlighted. I wonder if I would like to be lost in Gryphon? That's a bit scary. Kind of like being lost in Middle Earth. Only if I've got a magic ring, thank you very much, or get transformed into an elf.

Monday... ugh!

Who invented Mondays anyway?

This Monday was especially hard, coming back to teaching after a week of Spring Break, which I spent almost entirely working on the book. That, and panicking about money. I'm afraid I may have to go back to work full time. So, I'm feeling even more pressure to get it done.

I really wanted to finish the second draft last week, but I wasn't able to do it. Part of the reason for that is that I spent a whole day (12 hours) working on my chapter outline. There is something very disheartening about a chapter outline. It's like having to describe a gourmet meal of pecan-encrusted mahi mahi in a mango pineapple sauce served with a side of corn and pepper relish and sweet potato straws as "fish and chips."

The good thing about the chapter outline is that it points out weaknesses in the plot. I am thinking that there are some things I should change, although at this point it's a bit too late. I don't know if I can do it. The biggie is The Thing That Faldur Did in Chapter Thirty-One (I can't spoil it here) which I can't take out because it's so brilliant and consistent with his character and all that jazz... so I had to un-do it at the end of the book... and I am not really sure if I like that (the un-doing)... but if I don't the readers are going to be totally upset with me and never want to read another book of mine again. But, as it's written, it just doesn't work for me. I just... Groan. Sigh. Bang head on keyboard.

So I really don't know what to do at this point. Other than what I am doing, which is steadily revising up to that point.

I spent about 3 hours today working on my glossary... which is really more of a dictionary... of the Hanorjan language. That is more than anybody wants to know, but it needed to be done. I even conjugated the verb "to be." Now, that is thoroughness, folks. I did include the word "dalharug." I couldn't help myself... I had to keep it in the book. For the background of this term look here: Name of a Name of a Name

And now, of course, it's almost 9 p.m. and because I blew my whole afternoon I now have a couple of hours of work ahead of me for school tomorrow, despite the fact that I'm totally brain dead and exhausted. And Jeff is also way too tired from our busy weekend, and grumpy, and getting into trouble with Mark, so I have to referee, and it's just... awful tonight. So, I guess I'll coax my son into bed, take some Alleve and a pot of coffee and just sit here and work while my spine slowly twists me into an office chair hunchback...

Okay, I need to look up for a minute here:
"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God." 1 Cor. 10:31

Third Time's the Charm

I am in raptures... oh my God, the manuscript is good... it's really good! I have gone back to the beginning and started prior to the previous opener with a couple of new chapters. I think this has really helped with exposition, as well as given a better flow to the action. Now I just have to revise what's already there. I'm confident everything will go much more smoothly working from a better beginning. This is my second draft... sort of... because I restarted the first draft halfway through and completely re-did the whole concept. I can't believe how much better things are the third time around.

"If at first you don't succeed, revise, revise again!"

Fireproof

Last night we saw "Fireproof", the movie about a firefighter whose wife wants to divorce him, starring Kirk Cameron. I must say Cameron's acting really shone. I was glued to him the whole time.

Unfortunately, part of the reason his acting stood out so well is that he carried the entire movie by himself. With a couple of exceptions, the supporting cast were terrible. The actor who played Cameron's father was so bad I think he wasn't an actor at all, but someone associated with the film who wanted to be in it and got his way. Even the actress who played his wife came across like the star of a high school play for the first half of the film, flipping her hair and smiling as she delivered her lines. She did get better as the movie went on, however, and her scenes with Cameron towards the end of the film were the best.

You could tell this was a low-budget film, but they did a good job with what they had, and there was one big fire scene where I found myself thinking "This is it... this is where they spent their budget, right here." The nice thing about a low-budget film is that you get to enjoy the story without all the special effects and dialogue-drowning music. The contemporary Christian music in the soundtrack was excellent... I'm going to be looking on YouTube for the videos.

The other thing that surprised me was the script. Despite the fact that some of the supporting cast delivered their lines as if they were Girl Scout Cookies, the script was really good. As a writer, it hurt to hear some of these lines fall flat when they could have easily sparkled. I'm sure that's every screenwriter's nightmare... to have a really good script, and finally get it made into a movie, but it's a bad movie.

Overall, this wasn't a bad movie. I'm glad we went. And it was free; they showed it at church. You can't beat free! I would just love to see Cameron do something big... do a big, secular, blockbuster movie and get some of the fame and credit he deserves. Then perhaps he could use the money to make his own low-budget films, and do them right!