Oh, Troy!!! Another myth to twist.
I’m not talking about Brad Pitt’s movie. I’m thinking of Helen, and how she has inspired at least two of my alien romance heroines… the young Helispeta as depicted in Mating Net, and Electra-Djerroldina, the reluctant heroine of Knight’s Fork.
There’s nothing new under the sun (or any other star). What goes around comes around. If you live long enough, you can be original again. Every story ever told has already been told. In other words, there are only two, or twenty, or thirty-six plots –depending on which plotters’ manual you prefer– and someone has already explored them and drawn on them, whether in fairy tales, the Arabian Nights, Arthurian legends or classical myths, or Nordic sagas, or Chaucer, or Shakespeare.
These timeless tales of magic, morality and universal truths adapt very well to most genres of Romance fiction. Obviously, in Fantasy the faeries may or may not have wings, and the Elves may be tall and royal and very Legolas. In Erotica the dragons may have the hots for smooth-skinned maidens, and the dungeons may come with beds. In Paranormal and Goth and Dark the old morality of the fairy tales turns on its head, and the horrors become the heroes.
It must be the secret barrister in me, or a hangover from my debating society days, but I love such challenges as re-writing the story of Odysseus’s encounter with the Cyclops from Polyphemus’s point of view.
Biological challenges appeal to me, too. I was chatting on the radio with Cindy Spencer Pape last weekend, and I fastened with great tenacity and glee on a thorough modern twist she’d given to one of her werewolf heroes in “Curses”. He’d had a vasectomy, but there was a problem.
I love that stuff. Biology is one of the three sciences. My idea of sci-fi romance embraces biology with enthusiasm…. that, and forensics. Cindy’s werewolf had preternatural powers of regeneration, so his body re-grew the vas deferens, and he became potent with alarming rapidity, and got someone into trouble.
To think that I thought it was cool when a vet (Josh Artemeier, “Pet Hates”) told me that werewolves can’t –or shouldn’t—eat chocolates! It isn’t good for their tempers or their irritable bowels.
There were no were-wolves in the Odyssey or the Iliad. But there were were-pigs! The sorceress, Circe, turned Odysseus’s shipmates into swine, which was probably a highly appropriate thing to do… if a feminist had been telling the story.
Mass shouldn’t have been too much of a problem, so that was a very plausible—well, relatively plausible—bit of shapeshifting.
So, back to the legend of Helen of Troy, and why I felt compelled to twist it (and also to latch onto testicles right from the first line).
The problem with Helen of Troy as a heroine is that New York Romance editors tend to frown on a happy ending for adulterers. How to get around that? She could have been entranced… but the Stockholm syndrome doesn’t make the hero look good. She could have been abused.
That has so been done! Besides, that automatically makes her husband the villain, and dooms him to a necessary death in order to make possible the happy ending.
Instead, I made her husband, the King, genetically incompatible. He is an alien, so that is absolutely logical, and a point too seldom dealt with in futuristic romance. I gave him really strange genitalia (but in the best possible taste), and obliged her to go after a specific public figure to ask him to be her sperm donor.
Imagine. Without putting names or faces to any particular world leader, just suppose the world’s paparazzi happened to be staking out the gentleman’s hotel room. Imagine the scandal…
Which is how you might have a perfectly innocent Paris and a relatively innocent Helen on the run.
*****Leave a comment for the chance to win a $20 gift card to Rowena’s favorite online bookstore! Good Luck!
Read Full Post »