Describing rhythm in writing

Hello, everyone. I'm an on-and-off lurker formerly known as betterthanstrawberry, and in the past few months I've come to enjoy reading up the thoughts and ideas of my fellow aspiring writers and selling them off to the highest bidder. So with that in mind, I would like to ask your opinion on a little writing problem I'm facing.

My WIP, Nextlife, revolves around the titular magic system -which, to put it simply, runs on rhythm. Every gesture or phenomenon is represented by some kind of rhythmic signal: flickering lights, feet pattering on a wooden floor, gauge needles rising and falling in concert, and so on. The problem is that rhythm is mainly an auditory device, and I'm a bit worried about how well it would translate into a textual medium. Right now, I'm thinking of describing it with some basic labels and similes and letting the reader's imagination work out the rest. In other words, something like this:

(not an actual passage, just an approximation of the narrative voice)

So, what do you think? Do you have any other idea? Or is the whole concept just too difficult to pull off?

That would work for basic rhythms, but are you a musician? This is definitely paving the way for Magic Music with drums and other percussion.

Take a look into Garth Nix's Old Kingdom series—it uses bells and pipes for its main characters.

Also, as a singer: Don't stress too much about the literal one-two-three beat or musical terms. Describe how it sounds by adjectives and real-life comparisons. Primal, infectious, slow, lonely, sparce, giddy, etc. are good ways to translate rhythm into words. A few musical terms are good, but too much might frustrate the general public because it would sound too clinical or band-geek. Or Italian.

For comparisons, knowing basic music would help a lot for translating rhythm into words—a waltz is one-two-three, a heartbeat is one-two, a horse galloping is one-two-three-four.

Magic Music is very old shamanistic stuff—I love when people use it!

edited 2nd Jul '15 9:16:56 AM by Sharysa

Another Magic Music fan here. Seconding what Sharysa said^* except about the heartbeat. I hear that in 3/4 with the third beat being almost silent. Or maybe 2/4 with two loud quavers and very soft crochet., that better to be evocative than literally technical. I'd say avoid the Italian(/French/etc) terminology and stick with plain speak. So "walking pace" rather than andante. And now disagreeing because I can.

It might be neat to include some very basic music script in your work as a Language of Magic kind of thing. With only rhythm you can leave it all in one line, so a bunch of music symbols (I'm sure you can find a free font for that) with an underline/strike-through. Still describe the feel etc in the narrative, but the rhythm graphic sort of provides a Genius Bonus.

Also be careful with the one, two, three stuff. It isn't always evident what you mean. Does "One, two, one-two-three-four" mean "crochet, crochet, 4 semiquavers" or are all the notes the same length and it's a time signature change from 1/4 to 4/4? I'd recommend using semi-nonsense for the subdivisions. So my first interpretation up there becomes: "one, two, three-a-an-da".

Maybe include some lessons on time-signatures, rhythms, accents and the like for your readers? A tricky task, balancing assuming too little and too much of your readers. They probably know a waltz is in three (even if they wouldn't understand that sentence) but maybe not what a siciliana entails. Maybe place these lessons not necessarily at the start, but scattered throughout. Perhaps a dreaded appendix or maybe Footnote Fever?

The idea isn't too difficult to be done, and honestly I think it gains from having to work at it. Compare magic via language of truth which always feels like a cop out to me.

Questions:

• Why is the system named Nextlife?
• Are there rigid rules to how a rhythm relates to its effect? Does playing the opening to Beethoven's 5th (one-and-ah twoooo^* yes that looks amazingly stupid) have the same result no matter who plays it, on the same instrument at the same tempo? Or is it effected by the musician's personal state/understanding of the piece?

It's not too difficult to pull off. It depends on your writing style, and the reader.

Personally, I don't mind the counting. That's not jargon, everybody can count, and it suggests rhythm. It might not be as specific as you need, though.

I also don't mind jargon like arpeggio because the sound of the words is already so suggestive.

It reads as if you really aren't into onomatopoeia, which is fine, but I'd also consider that another option.

As for the balance between technical and evocative...with a good enough primer, the technical will be evocative. It's like learning a language, so by the climax of Watership Down (for example) one of the rabbits cusses the main villain out in rabbit language, using words that had been peppered casually through the book. It's the first complete sentence in rabbit, and it was perfectly understandable.

I thought "flicker" and "rustle" were good word choices. The shift from a single steadfast "glow" is clear. However, the sentence structure comes off to me as bogging it down.

How fast does Anastasia notice? Does she need to take the time to remember (and remind the reader) that the treetop thing glowed, or can you trust the reader to remember?

If it's the latter, you could simply write, "It came from the treetop, the one that lulled her to sleep with a faint blue glow. Now it flickered with the rustling of..."

When you write, "Only now it was no longer a glow" then what happens in my mind while I'm reading is that I have to stop time and rewind. That might not be Anastasia's experience, if you wanted to convey instead that the flicker woke her up.

This paragraph shows a need for balance. You have the function of a heart interfering with the suggested rhythm, because "beating" is utilitarian. You could say it reminded Anastasia of a "palpitating" or a "racing" heart. You could say "the canopy branches thrummed alive" or "fluttered to life" with it, or "replied in syncopation."

What happens in my mind instead is: flickerflickerflicker baaaa-DUM...ba-DUM...ba-DUM...ba-flickerflickerflickerflick

Basically, my main suggestion is to use word choice as well as sentence structure to build purposely-paced paragraphs that evoke rhythm.

That would mean no dead air or boggy passive voice like "Only now it was no longer just a glow" unless the rhythm really is slow and erratic.

But like I said, I am just one reader. Some readers will get the concept and think it's cool, and not mind much the manner by which you convey it.

edited 2nd Jul '15 11:36:09 PM by Faemonic

@Sharysa: Using emotive adjectives sounds like a great idea - definitely beats scrounging four-syllable words off the thesaurus. Magic Music isn't the dominant expression of power in the setting, since Nextlife users generally work through specialised tools, but it's a major part of the verse's Technician vs. Performer divide; one of my villains wields a taiko drum hooked to a magnetic pickup to distort her opponents' calls with disruptive rhythms. Experienced users like the protagonist tend to play instruments and number games to keep their skills sharp, so I thought that it would make sense for the narration to refer to musical terms from time to time. Will try to keep it to a minimum though.

I'm a fan of Moonflowers, btw :D

@Luthen: Making sense out of the rhythm counts is one of my main concerns, honestly. When I wrote the above passage, I imagined it in 2/4, and I keep wondering whether letting the reader interpret it differently will detract from the overall experience.

Writing out the notation sounds real neat, though. It'll need a lot of work to avoid looking gimmicky, aaand I really don't want to hopelessly stretch my knowledge of music theory in the process e_e but it's definitely worth a try!

(questions to be answered later because wall of text)

@Faemonic: Not a fan of onomatopoeia, sorry. But you made a good point regarding the prose. I'm still trying to balance the tempo of the narration between the flowing, emotive "money shots", the rapid-fire staccato of the action sequences and everything that comes in between. Crafting the evocative out of the technical seems like a great rule of thumb - it's certainly in line with the "wow" factor that lies at the heart of all speculative fiction.

(It's been two years since I last wrote regularly, so my word-wrangling miiight be a bit rusty.)

Thanks a lot for the input, everyone!

Anyway, on to the system. Nextlife is usually described as a living signal at the fabric of things. First found in dead plant matter during the Year of the Dragon, it displays mechanical and electrical properties, and can be interacted with through both means. When left on its own, it manifests as an unsourced and periodically-varying resonance through the affected tissue. Though it's native to carbon compounds, given enough time, it will transform the fabric of any solid in contact to a point where it starts carrying the signal in perfect harmony, effectively turning it into an extension of the Nextlife element. Since letting it spread unchecked is obviously Not A Good Idea, Nextlife systems are generally insulated with vacuum (which doesn't carry the signal), heavy metals (which take forever to transform), or active counter-signals (when you're dealing with seriously potent stuff).

Now, as mentioned, Nextlife can be interacted with through electrical and mechanical means. The reverse is also true: when a Nextlife element resonates in a certain way, it generates a reciprocal effect in the surrounding environment. In the decades following its discovery, its behaviour was extensively studied, and these effects were categorised along with their respective rhythmic "calls", which in turn break down into dozens of "functions" based on the progression of the rhythm. So, to answer Luthen's question: yes, it's all strictly rule-based. When you play Beethoven's 5th on a Nextlife-affected violin, the first bar would act as the "call" and prime it for a certain set of functions. The rest of the movement would build upon the original rhythm, augmenting some aspects of it and suppressing some others until it triggers the intended function (e.g. bursting into flames at a set temperature). Performers do it by heart; technicians derive complex wave equations beforehand.

Users are divided into five classes based on their training:

• Pathfinder: Trained in the ways of the Bridging Call, which allows independently-resonating Nextlife elements to communicate with each other and work in conjunction, for example rigging apple trees in an orchard to resonate through the ground when they're drying out, causing a Nextlife-carrying soil layer below to loosen up and allow water from its underground reservoir. Their work involves higher tempos than other classes, and tends to rely more on advanced tools. Both my protag and the main villain are Pathfinders.
• Weaverbird: Deals with the Crafting Call, which strings up dissimilar materials into new creations using the inherent transformative properties of Nextlife. The field is more overtly physical and focuses on practical use.
• Flowsprite: Revolves around the Persuading Call, which turns Nextlife resonances into physical motion. This allows their machines to achieve near-perfect energy efficiency, their effort to generate energy from natural Nextlife resonances hasn't been as successful.
• Chrysotype: Handles the Enkindling Call, which controls motion on a more minute scale. Half their functions turn said motion into heat, while the other half pulls the heat away. Generally not the ideal people to upset on a first date.
• Mercurial: Hand-picked from the best and most gifted candidates, they handle the Mending Call, widely considered the most difficult and exotic skillset. It grants them the ability to construct matter from energy, with the caveat that all its functions are punctuated by a "deafening" rhythm that blocks the Nextlife element from physical interaction as it carries out the materialisation. Mercurial training aims to teach candidates to perform this at a cellular level as a final goal.

There's a catch to all of the above: Nextlife is not fully understood and has a will of its own. All the known calls can only entice it to act in a certain way - even if it's reliable enough most of the time, there's always a minute chance that the call is refused and things go horribly wrong. When initiating a call, the user needs to match up their tempo with the natural resonance - an easy enough task in most cases - and gradually bring it up/down to the targeted level. Suffice to say, the story will make this very, very hard for the characters, and there will be a few Game-Breaker mechanics coming into play before it ends.

As a final word, the system is very much a work in progress and is heavily inspired by The Rithmatist. All critiques and comments are very welcome.

edited 4th Jul '15 10:07:00 AM by eagleoftheninth

That seems like a very well-thought-out magic system. Have you written anything more within the story? This reads like a D&D manual and it's really fascinating.

Also, thanks for reading Moonflowers! Are you on Hitrecord or did you click on the trope page? :P

That's pretty cool! What's the difference between Weaverbird and Flowsprite, though?

Continuing with the example of how to run an apple orchard, is it that Weaverbirds can set up drip irrigation that schedules itself whereas Flowsprites concern themselves only with the logistics of getting the applies from the orchard to the market? Why couldn't they swap?

edited 5th Jul '15 12:21:42 AM by Faemonic

Thank you! I'm planning to do it in an episodic format, with each episode being roughly novella length (20,000-25,000 words). The first act, spanning four episodes, is fairly well-outlined at the moment, and I hope to post more materials for critique in the following weeks. Since I 1) put my hobbies pretty far back on the schedule, 2) will need to rework my writing style and 3) want extensive peer-reviewing to ensure everything is airtight, I probably won't start writing the story proper until the New Year break, unfortunately.

In the meantime, be informed that it involves a missing dad, an impending apocalypse, a gifted young Pathfinder trying to keep the lid on her insanely illegal adventures and the return of the resonant people.

Ah, I didn't quite put it right in the description. Weaverbirds would mainly craft new materials like textile, armour and building walls. In the aforementioned apple orchard, they would set up a resonating fence posts made from special carrier fibre to deter varmints and turn the ground into a Nextlife element. Flowsprites would then persuade the irrigation components to open up upon receiving a certain rhythm, and then Pathfinders would tap a bridging function into the topsoil (or as a backup, hook them to the trees with a Weaverbird-crafted carrier cable) so that all of the above components feed into each other as a cohesive whole.

(I'm still figuring out how the system will affect the verse's technology precisely, so please bear with the messy example for time being)

Back to the original topic: in The Rithmatist, Brandon Sanderson handles his exposition partly by including short tidbits and diagrams of the various Rithmatic lines in between chapters, which cuts down the amount of description needed when they're introduced in the story proper. I'm rather tempted to do something similar with the notation of the base calls, and maybe some illustration of the in-story rhythm devices. Yay or nay?

edited 8th Jul '15 8:19:55 AM by eagleoftheninth

Super late, but notes/journal-style episodes are VERY common in writing and I think that would be pretty neat!

Although the dropbox link seems to have broken. Sadface.