I recently listened to a panel of speculative fiction authors trying to define the concept of magic. They gave specific examples of what did or did not, in their opinion, constitute magic, but they were struggling to come up with a definition that they could all agree on. Nobody actually said it, but in the end it sounded much like a case of “you’ll know it when you see it”.
So this got me to thinking. How would I define “magic” if asked the question?
A Definition of Magic
Really, if you reduce it to its very essence, magic is that which seems to defy the physics of a given world. Beyond that, magic isn’t static. It retreats as science evolves. What would have seemed magical a few hundred years ago is commonplace and perfectly explainable now.
Story magic needs to have that same quality to be believable. It needs to operate within the laws of Nature yet transcend them. It can be visible to anyone, but manipulated and maybe even explained by only a chosen few. Magic is exceptional. Put another way, it’s not magic if just anyone can do it.
And then there’s the specific reaction magic engenders in the uninitiated observer: Awe. This potent mix of wonder and fear and ecstasy and transcendence that’s hard to describe and impossible to forget once experienced. Awe and spiritual insight often go hand in hand in real life, so it comes as no surprise that magic and religion have often be tightly intertwined in stories.
How to Do Magic
Magic is probably the most creative tool in a fantasy author’s world-building toolbox. You can let your imagination run wild and free. Whatever you can dream up can become part of the magic system of your world. Anything goes. Or does it?
There are two caveats: One, the system has to be coherent in order to be believable. It has to seamlessly integrate with the world’s physics and believably transcend them. And two, magic has to have limitations; otherwise the story conflict’s a non-starter. If the wielder of magic is all-powerful, well, conflict solved. Happily ever after and all that.
As a reader, I prefer my magic expensive, and not necessarily in monetary terms or in terms of rare natural resources. What I’m really interested in is the price a character pays for using magic. Does it drain their energy? Does it make them outcasts? Does it cause them pain in the moment, or does it make them go mad in the long run? No matter what it is, and the possibilities are as limitless as an author’s imagination, magic shouldn’t be free. It shouldn’t be casually and carelessly wielded.
Magic Builds Character
This is where magic, in my book (pun entirely intended), is comparable to violence. If an author uses magic or violence (or lyrical prose, for that matter) gratuitously, it’s nothing but special effects. Showing off. It doesn’t add emotional heft to the story and it doesn’t drive character development. And that’s what’s always been most important to me in any story: The characters. No matter how innovative, how deviously plotted or how poetically written a story is, if the characters don’t grab me, if I couldn’t care less whether they overcome the obstacles in their way, well, it’s a book I’m not going to finish.
I’m sure that plenty of other readers will disagree with this tight focus on character, but even so, any author who doesn’t use world-building tools like magic or food or shelter or conflict to build life-like characters, leaves a lot of money on the table. Quite literally.