Just for fun: a short excerpt from the fourth—never-published—Abadazad book: Historcery. (For the record: Abadazad is ©copyright 2010 Disney Publishing.)
Our protagonist, Kate Jameson, is aboard a boat with an old spider named Imaginalia Webster, sailing through Abadazad’s past, in hopes of discovering how the villain of the series, the Lanky Man, came to be. The following exchange happens just after Kate witnesses the creation of Zad and discovers that Mrs. Webster herself—under the guidance of the mysterious Floating Warlock—was the one who wove the entire kingdom into being.
Our protagonist, Kate Jameson, is aboard a boat with an old spider named Imaginalia Webster, sailing through Abadazad’s past, in hopes of discovering how the villain of the series, the Lanky Man, came to be. The following exchange happens just after Kate witnesses the creation of Zad and discovers that Mrs. Webster herself—under the guidance of the mysterious Floating Warlock—was the one who wove the entire kingdom into being.
***
“You created Inconceivable?” I asked Mrs. Webster.
“No,” she corrected me. “The Warlock created it. I simply...followed his blueprint. First for the city...and then for all of Abadazad.”
It was an incredible thing to see...and a part of me could have stayed there and watched Mrs. Webster weave every rock, every tree, every river and blade of grass. I wanted to—but I couldn’t...’cause I hadn’t come all that way to sit around in a boat. I was there to find out about the Lanky Man. I was there to help my brother. “Imaginalia,” I said, “what has all this got to do with—”
Before the words were out of my mouth, the city in the sky vanished. The webs dissolved. The Warlock wavered for a few seconds like he was made of smoke and then just...disappeared. Now there was just the two of us...sailing across an ocean that had suddenly become covered in thick fog. I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of the boat. “What happened?” I asked. “Did I...did I say something wrong?”
“No,” Mrs. Webster answered—but she sounded so sad I couldn’t help feeling that I had. “What you said was exactly right. And to answer your question: This has everything to do with the Lanky Man.”
“How?”
“You’ve seen,” she said, “how the Floating Warlock dreamed Abadazad to life—but what you don’t know...what you need to know...is that it wasn’t the first time he’d done it. ”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Are you saying that what we just saw wasn’t the real creation of Abadazad?”
“It was...a creation, Kate. There were others before this.”
“What happened to them? The other Abadazads?”
“He had to...un-dream them.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Think of the Warlock,” Mrs. W said, while our boat sailed on through the fog, “as an author. Writing the tale of Abadazad a dozen times—a thousand times—over till it’s as perfect as he can make it. He creates a draft and then throws it away...keeping the sections he likes...re-writing the parts he doesn’t.”
“But why would he do that? I mean, he’s the Floating Warlock! He should get it right the first time!”
“It should be that way,” Imaginalia answered, tapping her fingers (and she sure had a lot of them) together, “but it isn’t. You see, Kate, stories...and the characters in them...have lives of their own—even though they’ve sprung from the writer’s imagination. And sometimes the story gets away from the author...rears right up like a wild horse and just gallops off in an unexpected direction—and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.”
“But that can be a good thing, can’t it?”
“It can,” she said—and something in the way she said it sent a shiver up my spine.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Something...terrible.”
“What?”“
“It’s not for me to say, Kate—it’s the Warlock’s tale, after all—but he knew that...after the Terrible Thing happened...he had to un-dream the story and start it over again. The poor man un-dreamed it...and re-dreamed it...over and over. And every time...no matter how hard he tried to give the story a happy ending...the Terrible Thing happened again.” She turned away from me, gazed out into the fog. “But...finally...he found a way to make it work.”
“But then—why did the Warlock look so unhappy when he first came up out of the ocean?”
Mrs. Webster turned back to face me. “In order to stop the Terrible Thing,” she said, “there were characters that he had to abandon...erase from the story. Characters that he loved...so very much.” Her voice was all choked up. She could hardly talk. “And that broke his heart.”
“Then why did he do it?”
“For the good of the story, Kate. But even when the changes serve the greater good...well, it can be a painful thing. A painful thing indeed.”
It was an incredible thing to see...and a part of me could have stayed there and watched Mrs. Webster weave every rock, every tree, every river and blade of grass. I wanted to—but I couldn’t...’cause I hadn’t come all that way to sit around in a boat. I was there to find out about the Lanky Man. I was there to help my brother. “Imaginalia,” I said, “what has all this got to do with—”
Before the words were out of my mouth, the city in the sky vanished. The webs dissolved. The Warlock wavered for a few seconds like he was made of smoke and then just...disappeared. Now there was just the two of us...sailing across an ocean that had suddenly become covered in thick fog. I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of the boat. “What happened?” I asked. “Did I...did I say something wrong?”
“No,” Mrs. Webster answered—but she sounded so sad I couldn’t help feeling that I had. “What you said was exactly right. And to answer your question: This has everything to do with the Lanky Man.”
“How?”
“You’ve seen,” she said, “how the Floating Warlock dreamed Abadazad to life—but what you don’t know...what you need to know...is that it wasn’t the first time he’d done it. ”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Are you saying that what we just saw wasn’t the real creation of Abadazad?”
“It was...a creation, Kate. There were others before this.”
“What happened to them? The other Abadazads?”
“He had to...un-dream them.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Think of the Warlock,” Mrs. W said, while our boat sailed on through the fog, “as an author. Writing the tale of Abadazad a dozen times—a thousand times—over till it’s as perfect as he can make it. He creates a draft and then throws it away...keeping the sections he likes...re-writing the parts he doesn’t.”
“But why would he do that? I mean, he’s the Floating Warlock! He should get it right the first time!”
“It should be that way,” Imaginalia answered, tapping her fingers (and she sure had a lot of them) together, “but it isn’t. You see, Kate, stories...and the characters in them...have lives of their own—even though they’ve sprung from the writer’s imagination. And sometimes the story gets away from the author...rears right up like a wild horse and just gallops off in an unexpected direction—and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.”
“But that can be a good thing, can’t it?”
“It can,” she said—and something in the way she said it sent a shiver up my spine.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Something...terrible.”
“What?”“
“It’s not for me to say, Kate—it’s the Warlock’s tale, after all—but he knew that...after the Terrible Thing happened...he had to un-dream the story and start it over again. The poor man un-dreamed it...and re-dreamed it...over and over. And every time...no matter how hard he tried to give the story a happy ending...the Terrible Thing happened again.” She turned away from me, gazed out into the fog. “But...finally...he found a way to make it work.”
“But then—why did the Warlock look so unhappy when he first came up out of the ocean?”
Mrs. Webster turned back to face me. “In order to stop the Terrible Thing,” she said, “there were characters that he had to abandon...erase from the story. Characters that he loved...so very much.” Her voice was all choked up. She could hardly talk. “And that broke his heart.”
“Then why did he do it?”
“For the good of the story, Kate. But even when the changes serve the greater good...well, it can be a painful thing. A painful thing indeed.”
***
As I read through this segment for the first time in years, I realized that it very much encapsulated my experience of dreaming the Abadazad stories into being—as well as my hopes for re-dreaming them in the future.
©copyright 2010 J.M. DeMatteis
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