by Ben Zackheim | Aug 6, 2014 | Writing |
(You can now buy Part One of The Camelot Kids on Amazon.)
When I first had the idea for The Camelot Kids, my upcoming book, it was about a summer camp run by Merlin.
Cool idea, maybe, but too similar to some stories I was reading at the time. I abandoned the project before it got started.
But my brain snagged on the Camelot myth. Knights, dragons, wizards, adventure, love, betrayal; this is the stuff we scarf up like Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups these days. And it’s attributable, or at least natural, to King Arthur in one way or another. Camelot and King Arthur are the vehicle in which Fantasy (with a capital ‘F’) has been carried through time, to our time.
If you ask people to tell the story of Camelot, well, that could mean a bunch of things.
The quest for the Holy Grail!
The forbidden, dangerous love affair between Queen Guinivere and the knight Lancelot!
Arthur pulling the sword from the stone!
Whichever tale you associate with the Camelot myth, it’s in your noggin somewhere, and it’s a good bet that your impression is somewhere between “blech” and “meh.”
Isn’t that odd? One of the heartiest yarns to survive the ages actually leaves many Fantasy fans cold!
As I dug into the story I found something even odder. Camelot felt like a cardboard cutout of fantasy. It felt like a 50s Disney film with pointy towers and pointy flags and fair ladies with pointy hats. Everyone wore white or gleaming armor in my mind’s eye. Fair maidens batted their eyelashes. And knights? They jousted, or something. Blech, indeed. Maybe Camelot wasn’t for me after all.
But there’s a big but.
I figured out how Camelot would be relevant to me again. It wasn’t easy. In fact, it took Alice in Wonderland, Narnia, Harry Potter and, most importantly, the horrible 80s film, He-Man and the Masters of the Universe to give me my eureka moment.
The world sucked for a kid growing up in 70s and 80s America.
And it was hard to ignore the suckage, which ranged from the Iran Hostage Crisis to Max Headroom to everything else.
Luckily, Fantasy was thriving ! Star Wars, comics, and any Atari game or Tor book were crucial to my sanity. Taking a look around at what popular culture has become today, it’s clear that several billion others felt the same way.
Back then, I read comics and books that swept me away from wherever I was because wherever I was just plain bit. With Star Wars or Superman I could escape into a place that had nothing in common with my farty classroom, or the stale mall, or my quiet bedroom. To me, there was no magic here. There was only magic there.
This is one of the reasons why I hated stories where kids from our world stepped into another one. To me, even one child from our reality stepping into a fantastic world would be like a cancer on the story, sucking our insecurities about “otherness” out of us like pus from a wound. Narnia, Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland…they were so quaint with their talking animals and spritzy, cute sheen. (note: I love them now, but I was an angry teen!)
Worst of all? The kids always wanted to go home! Losers.
The people in these stories were shallow to me. Their bonds to other characters were like a person to a pet — strong but inhuman. All the “heroes” had one foot out the door, willing to risk everything to see mommy again.
My hatred of the “Looking Glass” type of story was vindicated (in my petty mind) when the He-Man and the Masters of the Universe movie came out in 1987. Starring Dolph Lundgren and Courtney Cox — need I say more? In the movie, He-Man is trapped in our universe in a far-from-epic adventure designed to sap the magic out of our world for decades. No, that wasn’t the plot. That’s what the movie actually did. It made your standard TV movie of the week look like The Godfather. To me, this movie was proof that no one knew how to take a normal kid, place him in another world and tell a good story.
I balanced myself on that told-you-so soapbox for years. It was an argument I had with my film geek college friends in NYU Tisch School. I watched as Hollywood botched fantasy film after fantasy film with nary a lesson learned.
Then Harry Potter came along.
It took Harry Potter to show me that our world and a fantasy world could mix, and be fantastic. The thing about Harry Potter that changed the dynamic for me was emotion. The best Fantasy starts with our sense of love, jealousy, revenge, ambition and then places it in a fairy tale. What had been missing for years (for me) was a story that took place in our world but treated us as magic. What author would be daring enough to shed the sarcasm, the cynicism of our times and insist that adventure is right under our noses? Who would find a fantastic way to tell a human story where a school, not a parent, is the ultimate shield from harm? Who would acknowledge our deep desire to be swept into another world and never see this one again? It turned out to be JK Rowling.
The lore of King Arthur is stale because the humanity has been leeched out by centuries of interpretation. Characters have become cardboard caricatures. Camelot has become Disneyland. Chivalry has become trite. In many ways the second most recognizable fairy tale in the western world suffers a lack of depth.
This is what I thought. Past tense. Until…
(and this is where my desire to write about Merlin and his pawns sat up from its death bed like the Frankenstein monster)
…until you ponder the famous Arthurian characters as normal people trying to make the world a better place, but stumbling on their weaknesses.
That would be cool.
And make them modern people, who we can identify with.
But don’t lose the history. Never lose the history. Make a sequel, not an adaptation.
Writing is hard.
Writing about famous figures is harder.
Writing about Camelot is downright dangerous. The consequences of taking creative license with something that has Ivy League programs dedicated to it invites wrath that’s usually reserved for atheists writing about God. But, really, can you think of a more exciting hill to climb?
When I started researching The Camelot Kids, I’d never read any of the classic Arthurian tomes. I’d never seen the racy Excalibur flick or Disney’s Sword in the Stone. But somewhere along the line I’d become so familiar with the gist of the key characters that I spontaneously grew an appetite to consume their stories, old and new.
As I immersed myself in the myth of Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table I was struck by how familiar it was. When I read A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, I was surprised to find that it was good to see these old stalwarts, these staples of Fantasy. It wasn’t quite the same as seeing a new Indiana Jones movie, or picking up a new Harry Potter, but it was still a tug at the heart which is the sole domain for old favorites. Where did I ingest the story so deeply that I could tell you about Mordred or Morgan Le Fay? How could I recall the young Arthur pulling the sword from the stone? Why was Lancelot so burned into my mind’s eye?
My best answer is that all archetypes seep in. They’re in images we see every day. Their morals come up for air in the small deeds we do for and against others. They are us. And we are them.
So, upon realizing my love of characters whom I sensed, but did not know very well, I began work on The Camelot Kids.
From the blank page I noticed something odd.
It usually takes a while for me to flesh out my plot and characters. Weeks, months. But within days, I’d settled on writing a modern tale where a number of young teens are told that they’re descendants of Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Merlin needs their help to save New Camelot from destruction.
From the first tap of a keyboard key, the boys and girls in my new story came alive. They were sweet, petty, funny, confused, and searching for chances to connect with each other in meaningful ways.
And they were chivalrous. Naturally so. Humanly so. In other words, they were chivalrous at times, vindictive in others.
There’s that word again. Chivalrous. What is it? And why is it so important in King Arthur’s world? Here’s why!
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by Ben Zackheim | Jul 24, 2014 | Writing |
There are dozens of characters in The Camelot Kids. The loyal pet goldfish, Mr. Boo, who was given a mechanical body so he could take over as manager of Merlin’s shoppe (he’s good with people). Hector, the chauffeur with a secret that will shock Simon out of his socks. Uncle Victor, the man with an agenda…dozens of characters!
But Rukkush… Rukkush is awwwwwesoooooome.
You may have seen some of the tiny peeks at Rukkush that I’ve been doling out. You know the ads and banners like the one at the top of this post — with the peacock-looking eyes staring back at you?
Yeah, that’s Rukkush. And here he is…
Rukkush is not on Merlin’s side. As you’ll see in this excerpt, he’s on a mission to take the old wizard out. Frankly, his beef appears to be justified… oh, just read the excerpt and you’ll see for yourself.
The set-up: Simon visits the old home of Lancelot – a small stone hut on the corner of New Camelot. The door hasn’t been opened in 1000 years. A crowd of curious citizens has just watched him open the dusty, creaky door. Now, Simon inspects the interior. It’s cold, damp and creepy and… well, read on…
Excerpt from The Camelot Kids
What happened next was a blur of sounds and pain. Simon tried to pull his hand away. At the same time, Russ and Josh hollered and pulled him to the ground. There was a flash of red light and a loud slam, like a heavy door being kicked closed.
Simon was on the floor, the two guards on top of him. The room would have been pitch black if it weren’t for Maille. She was standing at the shut door with her glowing red wand raised. She pointed it at someone behind Simon, but he couldn’t see whom as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
“It’s about time you showed up,” came a crackling voice from the shadows.
“Come out where we can see you,” Maille snarled. “I’m warning you, I know how to use this!” She lifted her bat-wand higher. The red light near the tip began swirling. It was an impressive sight to Simon. But the stranger chuckled. It was a dry laugh, disdainful. Simon sat up, trying to see his attacker.
“I’m sure you do, girl. But I know how to use mine too.”
And with that, a tall, thin man emerged from the darkness. His skin was wrinkly white, and his eyes were hollow, devoid of life. Long, stringy hair, like straw, ran down his back and shoulders. His fingernails were as long as the fingers they grew from. He wore leather armor that creaked and scraped as he moved closer. The man opened his mouth and an empty smile crept across it.
“I’d imagine I’m not looking very well, after a thousand years in this pig sty.”
Russ and Josh had their small blades drawn and ready. Simon felt naked without a weapon, but found the courage to speak.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Rukkush. Apprentice and prisoner of Merlin.”
Maille hesitated. Rukkush let his grin get broader. “I’m Merlin’s apprentice,” she finally said.
“Ah. He’s taking girls now. He must be getting desperate on the other side of that door. Well, then, you are his prisoner as well.”
“Are you saying Merlin locked you in here?” Maille asked.
“Indeed. Who else would have the power to do so? I’ve been sitting in that chair right there for the last hundred years, by my count. I lay in the bed for three hundred years before that. I’m afraid Lancelot was not a big reader, so I haven’t had even the smallest of comforts to tide me over. I can’t count the number of times I’ve had visitors who ended up being a figment of my imagination. Perhaps you are only in my head, too. I’m a bit mad, as I’m sure you’ll understand. Not to mention betrayed.”
His smile disappeared and a chill swept the room. He raised a twisted, rotting wand of his own. Maille unleashed a ball of light like the one she’d used on Caradoc. But it was instantly doused like a raindrop in an inferno. Rukkush’s arms swept forward and Maille was thrown against the door.
“That wasn’t very nice, was it, Russ?” Josh said, as Maille let out a moan.
“Not at all, Josh.”
“All right then. In Lancelot’s name!”
And with that, the two boys ran at the ghoul with their swords raised. But Rukkush made quick work of Josh, throwing him against the exact same spot he’d thrown Maille, as if it were target practice.
Russ slipped through and managed to cut their attacker’s chin with the tip of his blade. There was an awkward silence as Rukkush glared at the boy.
Russ swallowed hard. “Oh, there’s hell to pay now, isn’t there?” In a split second, the third of the three kids lay unconscious near the door.
Rukkush poked at his wound and examined the dark blood. “Ah, excellent. Blood. I suppose this is actually happening then. Exciting. Now, we have some time alone before one of Merlin’s brutes breaks through that door…”
Rukkush began to wander around the room. He seemed deep in thought.
“Why is it,” he finally asked, “that Merlin allowed you through this door, when he knows I’m in here waiting for revenge?”
Simon wasn’t going to answer. He sensed he was being pulled into a trap. The way Rukkush was pacing, keeping his distance, and smirking made Simon suspect something else was going on.
“So it’s silence, is it? Fine. That will do. Let me tell you then, so you don’t need to guess. This is the first of many tests for you boy. He’s told you of your bloodline, I’m sure. No need to answer. I know it to be true. Yes, he’s told you of your bloodline and, in so doing, he’s given you a half-truth. That’s more than I ever got from him, so be thankful.” He chuckled, but there was no mirth in it.
“He threw you into this particular arena because you’re tied to a future he believes will unfold no matter what happens here. And, of course, because he does not want to face his past.” Rukkush sighed. “But now that you are here, my long wait is over.”
There was a loud pounding on the door. Rukkush swiftly walked up to Simon and took his chin in his hand. He leaned in so close that his breath covered Simon’s face.
It smelled like nothing.
“Seek the truth, boy, and be prepared to die for it.” The door blew off its hinges, bathing the room in sunlight.
Rukkush turned to dust in an instant.
With that, Simon’s vision went blurry. His knees gave out and he fell to the floor. Silhouetted figures rushed at him. He felt someone lift his head into their lap.
His last thought before he passed out was, “I’m not comfortable in this bedroom.”
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You can buy The Camelot Kids: Book One now!
