The Treasure of Lei Fong Wu

Author’s Backward

Just over a year ago, I had an itch to write a story – a character sketch, really, about a prematurely cancelled TV show. It started as a whim, something to while away the nights after the kids were in bed. I found a fanfic site, posted it, and much to my amazement, people liked it. So I wrote another chapter. And another. Thirty days later, more or less, Kaylee’s Lament was finished and I was hooked. And like any other addict, I had to increase my dosage. I started writing Treasure, figuring it would be a hair longer than Kaylee’s Lament. That’s some gorram hair. What is it about the ‘verse that compels us, so? There’s nothing particularly unique, here, after all: a sci-fi show with a Western feel, down to the quaint 19th century-tainted English, mixed up with enough Chinese (as opposed to an alien language) to make it exotic yet believable. You have a roguish captain, faithful sidekick, the wisecracking pilot, the heavy, the honey, the gifted engineer, and the wise old mystic. Throw in a telepath and a doc, put it on a cool spaceship, add some colorful villains, stir up some plot, and you have a soup that, on the surface, should be fairly unremarkable. Only . . . it’s remarkable in every meaningful way. You wouldn’t be reading this if it wasn’t. The background is enchanting, the characters are tortured and compelling, and the plots are well thought out, filled with snappy dialog and meaningful insights. Take all the same ingredients and put them in the hands of any competent cook and you might get another hackneyed space opera damned to mediocrity. But we didn’t. We got Joss. We got Firefly. Try to distill that down to its essence and you will find the reason that our BDH are so compelling. They have that indefinable characteristic that made Kirk and Spock, Luke and Han, the Doctor and Romana, and all the other great sci-fi shows a success: Firefly has a soul. I’ll leave it to you to define it further than that – it’s a subject for endless hours of debate among good Browncoated friends, involving much beer. It is enough for my purposes to declare the existence of the soul, and appreciate those fifteen episodes and one feature film for what they are. But I, myself, am tortured by a demon. I can’t (obviously) leave well enough alone, shrug off the depression that comes with hopeless cancellation, and move on with my life. I can’t do that because I am a Browncoat. The impossible is what we do. Lost causes are our business. It’s what makes us mighty. Writing two full-length novels for no hope of money, that’s about as lost a cause as one could wish for. With the legal issues and future of the franchise up in the air indefinitely, even trying to get them published would be a nigh-impossible task. When great authors like Stephen Brust (shoutout to my Dragearan homey!) are writing complete novels for the pure fun of it and can’t get an answer, my sorry ass has virtually no hope of a book deal in the ‘verse. I’m good with that. Because it’s not about the money – this is capital A Art for art’s sake. I love what I’ve done, here. It’s perhaps the best work I’ve ever done and I wouldn’t trade it for all the tea in Sihnon – assuming, of course, that there is tea in Sihnon. The advantages of doing this kind of insane exercise are readily apparent: I can do with the characters what I wish, with no editorial oversight or blind adherence to the company bible. I ran afoul of that in my first book, Spartacus. Apparently my first draft was too militant and didn’t push Roddenberry’s idea of a Socialist Utopia enough. The other advantage is instant feedback by rabid, highly critical, and highly knowlegable fans. Ordinarily you have to wait almost a year to hear if anyone thought what you wrote sucked or not. Now I can tell I suck in hours. The wondrous age we live in . . . But the exercise has been good for me, too. By my calculations, I’ve cranked out well over a half a million words in the last twelve months, not counting what I wrote for work. Some writers – successful, well-acclaimed writers, too – go an entire career without that much work under their belt. Me, I saw it as a kind of writer’s bootcamp. I’ve been wondering for a while now if I had the cojones to do a really big book, maintain a complex plot and a large cast of characters, make it work, and actually finish the damn thing. But I have, and I am the richer for it. It does suck that I can’t make money off of my labor, but I am reminded time and again that a musician doesn’t get paid for every tune he plays, nor does a painter usually sell every painting she paints. That’s the price of Art. You have to practice – the only problem with writing is that you can’t slap it on a wall and ask for everyone’s five-minute BS opinion. You have to get the work mostly done before you show it to even your editor, much less any fans. I consider my Firefly work excellent practice, as it has made me a far, far better writer, and given me an understanding of the novel form that I didn’t have a year ago. Novels are hard. There’s a reason most novels that get started, don’t get finished. I count it as a personal point of pride that I did so. Twice. And for the most part, it didn’t suck. And that’s good enough. As to what happens to my career as a novelist, I find that I am far less concerned with that than I was a year ago. I discovered the art, you see, and got past the BS about an agent and a publisher and book tours and readings and promotional considerations. It’s quite liberating. I can focus on the joy of pure creation and let the rest of that stuff take care of itself. Not that it wasn’t somewhat bumpy along the way, especially concerning the character of Inara, and her profession, and to a lesser extent Book and his profession. Whenever you deal with sex and religion you’re going to get some heat. I was happy I didn’t get far more than I did – and it was, generally, well-reasoned heat. I welcome that kind of feedback. But the thing I liked best was the places I was able to take you. Epiphany’s “guarded-gate community”, with real estate agents and sandy beaches. Dry, chalky Wuhan, where the mastodons roam. Dry, hot, yet pleasantly spicy Madonna. The two worlds of Salisbury. The classical world of Athens. The dead world of Hecate. Though we never visited them, we heard enough about Xiao and T’ien and Yuan to make them real. And the cool things I was able to show you: River dancing against a machine in an arcade; Jayne getting used like a whore; a baseball-playing Chinese gangster prince; a mastodon stampede (one of my personal faves!), River folding a thousand bills into paper cranes; Simon kissing Jayne on the nose. Mal and Inara fencing; the girls watching strapping young Chinese men exercising for the pure lusty thrill of it; General Lei commanding his troops; Master Lei swearing as he worked to open a door. Nyan Nyan awakening from her century of slumber . . . and then puking on Johnny. Mal and Inara having a relationship discussion while awaiting torture. Book and Master Lei debating religious philosophy from two entirely different points of view; River dancing in the rains of Salisbury while Kaylee looks on, getting high, while Wash and Zoe sneak off to do it in the bushes; Jayne getting mugged and taking the mugger’s gun away; Simon getting some tail nearly against his will and with Inara’s complicity; Mal and Jayne rescuing a bunch of lesbians in togas; Jayne propositioning a bunch of lesbians; Mr. Universe’s wild engagement party; Jayne walking across a floor filled with freeze-dried corpses; “ice zombies’; Wash kicking ass in an arcade; Wash getting to fly a fighter; Wash tagging his enemy’s ship with crude graffiti; Jayne eating a couple of kilos of Mastodon penis; River making the Tigers’ heads explode; Nyan Nyan and Inara getting’ busy; Book finding new dimensions to his faith while being tortured; Mal deciding about Love and Luck; a stack of platinum big enough to sleep on; Zoe kicking major ass; Jayne throwing one dumpling too many; Jayne blowing away a robot with a whopping big gun; Jayne charging into battle on a motorcycle and laying it down while shooting; Mal getting his adrenaline jollies from fighting the Tigers; the fight between Major Lei and Johnny; the siege at Serenity on Salisbury; the shoe shop fight; Mal’s interview with Inara in the bar on Salisbury; Mal and Zoe forgetting the radio on Wuhan; Mal and Zoe pretending to be married; Mal lifting the map box while Zoe plotted an elaborate theft; Waffles; Wash’s dinosaurs and their place in his marital relationship; Inara’s complicated plan to save the ‘verse; Mal considering dumping his browncoat; the Wash/Zoe baby saga . . . I’m sure I missed a few spots, but you get the idea. And then there are the people. Joss handed me a rich set of characters, of course, and I used them – but I also had a few good ones of my own. The House of Lei, from the General to Madame Lei to the Heavenly Master to Johnny to the Major to His Imperial Majesty Lei Fong Wu. Nyan Nyan, Princess Kitty-cat. The MacKlintocks; the Sanchez Brothers; The Wuhan police captain and his aid; Mason and Inara’s other clients; that SOB Fox; Julian and Sinclair; Rel Fexive; Miss Goldenpanties; the various Browncoat veterans they came across; the dopey Alliance lieutenant; a little girl on a swingset, dead thirty odd years. The Computer Map/Emperor Lei. And Shan Yu. Always Shan Yu. He’s the guy who got it started. That one little throw-away line at the beginning of “War Stories” was enough to spark my imagination on the dictator/poet, and my frustration of the lack of exploration of the Chinese side of the ‘verse combined with my desire to bridge the series and the BDM and birthed the plot. But it was Shan Yu who motivated me. Fascinating character. Horrid character. I’m glad he died the way he did. Most of the Chinese references were an homage to the greatest period of Chinese civilization, the vaunted T’ang dynasty. I was introduced to this magnificent – and, to Westerners, largely overlooked – period of human history by Jerome P. Seaton, the bearded professor of East Asian Studies at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Props, Prof! I actually used all that stuff I learned in college for something worthwhile! If it hadn’t been for him – and my ex-girlfriend who insisted I take the class with her (Thanks, Maura!) – I never would have learned about the Rectification of Names, the Mandate of Heaven, the Imperial cycle, the tension between Taoism/Confucism and Buddhism, filial piety, the idea of “ritual” (li) and the uncarved block (p’u) and I would have been poorer for it. Of course, one of the other reasons I wrote Treasure was to bridge the gap between the BDS and the BDM. There were a number of inconsistencies that I wanted to explain away, first and foremost the whole “faster than light”/general relativity thing, which I did with a clever mix of “transnuclear dark matter derivatives” and anti-gravity theory – both are grounded in actual science, believe it or not. But there were plenty of others. Why was Mal listed as “Captain” on his war-record, as reviewed by the Operative in the BDM? (battlefield promotion – also explained how he got some of the money for Serenity). Who the hell were “the Sanchez Brothers” and “Lei Chin”? Why was Wash so nicely dressed? Where did Mal’s new boots and braces come from? Why was he so erratic and pissed-off at the beginning of the movie? (Inara!) Why was Book so cool, after being slightly dorky in the show? (tortured by Shan Yu – gives you perspective). Where did Wash’s “I am a leaf on the wind – watch me soar!” mantra come from? (Heavenly Master Lei). How did River learn how to pilot so suddenly without anyone knowing? (Rowan MacKlintock). For those who read Krad’s novelization there were a few Easter eggs, too: the burning temple, Mr. Universe’s familiarity with the crew, etc. It was a blast to bridge that gap. But my real motivation for the work came from two places: Wash, and China. Wash is my favorite character to write. Wise-cracking, humorous, self-deprecating, passionately loyal to Zoe, and extremely good at what he does. I wanted to give him a chance for one last hurrah before the spike fell. I hope I did it well. And China. It has been pointed out that while Chinese figures into the background culture of FF, we see few Asians. I wanted to explore the Chinese side of the ‘verse a little, and look at it from the inside. Putting in a sexy Chinese girl was easy, of course. There is ample precedent for that. But there is an annoying tendency in the West to exaggerate the sexuality of Asian women, while de-masculizing the sexuality of Asian men. Hence Johnny’s studly development, and his passion for the “traditional” Chinese sport of baseball. I wanted a male Asian lead that was buff, competent, confident, and attractive, not the “good boy” servant image Asian men usually get treated to in the West. I also wanted to push through the other Asian stereotypes, even while using them. Shan Yu, for example, is a lot of Fu Manchu with a little Hitler and a little Darth Vader thrown in – but Heavenly Master Lei breaks the “Chinese Sage” mold a little by being both a former pilot and swearing like a spacer. Nyan Nyan is the beautiful Chinese sexpot, but she’s also brilliant and scheming in her own right. General Lei, I admit, was taken more from Patton/General Robert E. Lee than anyone Chinese, though Madame Lei came right out of Chinese culture, and was modeled a little on Madame Chaing Kai Shek, the daughter of Dr. Sun Yat Sen and sister-in-law to Mao Tse Tung. So I got my grand adventure, answered a lot of questions, developed characters in ways any decent editor would have cut, and started a few plot lines that will continue in the next book. All in all, Treasure was quite a blast, and I’m glad y’all liked it enough to stick around through ninety chapters. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Now, I’ve been flooded with requests for more of my work, as well as the occasional “How can I pay you money for this stuff?” letter. I cannot, of course, legally and in good conscience take money for my Firefly work. I can, however, give you a chance to buy one of my other works. Over at lulu.com, a great little publish-on-demand site, I’ve posted not one but TWO of my books. (I’d put up KL and TLFW, but they have rules against fanfic because of that pesky copywrite law.) Still, if you were one of the folks who want to give me money for all of my hard work, I’d encourage you to stop on over and check out the books. SPELLMONGER is a sword-and-sorcery fantasy novel, first of a series (oh, gods, how I want a fantasy series . . . I can’t stand Piers Anthony’s writing, but any author who can do thirty books in a series has my respect). When I sell a thousand copies I’ll write the sequel. It ain’t bad, if I say so myself – and, as a blatant self-promoter, I’m likely to. For the small price of $6.88 you can download a copy (I guarantee you’ve paid more for worse fiction before) or, if you are feeling extravagant, you can order a printed copy for just under $16.00. First chapter is free. I’m just generous, that way. The other work needs a little explanation. It was written under contract to a local company, and they chose the subject matter and the angle – I just back-filled the copy. The book was originally titled “Getting Laid: A Gentleman’s Guide to the Art of Love”, but I had to change the title to “Seduction and Pursuit: Life, Love, and Lust for the 21st Century Gentleman”. It’s about, oddly enough, getting laid. A warning, though: it is designed for men, not women, and some women may find some parts of it offensive or misogynistic, but I assure you it is not disrespectful of women, and I meant no offense. But if you’ve got a hopeless geek on your Christmas list, it ain’t a bad gift. It starts off with taking a shower and goes on from there. I mean, it’s REALLY remedial, in places, but it does have some useful advice for those interested in the subject matter. Nor does it necessarily reflect my views. Like I said, I was under contract. I’m putting it on sale for the weekend – from 10/6/06 to 10/10/06 you can download a copy for a mere $1.99 before the price goes up again (to a whopping $5.99). I haven’t done a print version yet, but if there is interest, I might. So, for those of you who want to applaud with money, and get a couple of damn fine reads out of it, here’s the address:

http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=600171

Now, on to Browncoat business: Unfinished Business, actually. If I get plenty of good comments (if you ever wanted to spout off about Treasure, this is your last chance!) I’ll post the first chapter of the new book next week. The rest will come slowly, but I hope that after two complete novels that you will bear with me and know that I will finish the work. Art for art’s sake, after all – besides, I want more stories, too. And I promise that this one won’t be near as long as Treasure. There may well be others after that, but one step at a time. If you don’t feel comfortable leaving a comment, or want to flame me in private, everyone is always welcome to write me any time at tmancour@gmail.com. Y’all are friends, after all: we went through the Sun Tzu war together. Again, thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Terry Mancour

The End.