Writing and Reading.

Several of the older authors that I've read have all claimed that they don't read the field of fantasy. They like to draw their inspiration from older sources. Beowulf, Le Morte de Arthur, Dante's Inferno, just to name a few. This seems to have changed in the last few years. Lately, we've seen the rise of a third generation of writers.

Those of us today consider Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Robert E. Howard and the like to be the fathers of modern fantasy. The next generation started with people like David & Leigh Eddings, Piers Anthony, and Terry Brooks. Continuing on with that came Robert Jordan and George R. R. Martin. But what about the next generation? Steven Erikson, Brandon Sanderson, and Patrick Rothfuss all embody the third generation of Fantasy.

The first generation got their inspiration from the classics, and the next generation drew from the same, but were soundly influenced by the original masters. This new generation, however, draws its influence from all of these sources. I don't think its possible to write modern fantasy by simply drawing your ideas out of thin air.

It is important to try and keep your ideas your own, but don't just copy someone else's story, or even a character. Archetypes are called that for a reason.

Suvudu fails

I understand that, in concept, its cool. However, as Brandon Sanderson posted on his blog, the design is flawed. There is no universe, no possible way that Jamie Lanister could ever even survive a meeting with Cthulu, much less defeat him. Cthulu is the High Priest of the Elder Gods, his mere presence causes sanity to flee and gazing upon his awful visage causes death to most humans. Here's how that fight would play out:

Jamie Lanister, resplendent in his golden armor, walks down to the cage. The crowd roars, he waves, women swoon. His entrance music is thunderous yet graceful at the same time. Then, a cloud of darkness fills the stadium. People start screaming. All electronics - cell phones, cameras, lights, laptops - stutter, then turn themselves off. The screams become more primal, soul rending. Then, after it seems that the screaming can get no louder, it stops. The sudden silence is deafening. After a few minutes, the lights come back on, and blood and offal cover the entire stadium. All 30,000 attendants, and Jamie Lanister, lay dead, many of them torn to pieces by their fellow spectators.

Winner - Cthulu.