First Rule of Telepathy: Use it Wisely

Rob is home for mid-tour leave, so I'm filling this month with some of my favorite guest posts.  This one is from the Mind Over Mind book tour of Aug 2011.  It was on my mind, since I've just finished the revisions to the second in the trilogy, Mind Over Psyche. Incidentally, if you've not read it, consider doing so!  http://www.amazon.com/Mind-Over-Karina-L-Fabian/dp/1897492367

 

First Rule of Telepathy:  Use it Wisely

By Karina Fabian

Did you ever see Friday the 13th: The New Blood?  I haven't, but my husband likes to tell me about the scene he most despises:  Jason is chasing the psychic girl, and as she flees, she mentally knocks things in his path, throws a tractor at him, does everything she can to stop him…  Except the one thing that makes sense.

"If she can pick up a tractor, why can't she pick him up?"  Rob demanded even a decade later.  "Just hold him at a distance; or, if she doesn’t think she can concentrate that long, slam him against the trees."

This illustrates to me the key to writing convincing telepathy--or magic, or science fiction:  If you are going to establish a power, then think about the logical uses and consequences! 

I had to give this a lot of thought in my novel, Mind Over Mind.  What did telepathy mean to my character Deryl.  He could read minds--what about emotions?  What about memories?  Could he project as well as receive; and if so, how "real" could he make his illusions and for how long?  What did all this cost him in terms of energy and concentration?  Most importantly, how and how well could he control his abilities?

Whatever "power" you use in your story--psychic, magic, or technological--you need to establish overarching rules--what can the person do or not do with the power?  What are its limits and why?  What does the power cost?  The easiest way to answer these questions is to explore what others have done and to keep asking yourself questions:  What if this?  How does that work?  When does this fail?  When you get an answer, follow-up with why.

As it turns out for poor Deryl, he had little control over what he received and the confusion led him to attempt suicide and get committed--good luck convincing the psychiatric staff that the voices in your head are real.  Mind Over Mind, the first book in the trilogy, he basically comes to terms with his ability.  In the second book, he'll learn what he's meant to do with those powers.

I promise:  If he's ever being chased by a madman, he'll either know better than to toss a tractor--or his buddy will call him on it.

Mind Over Mind: Letter from Deryl

Dear Mom,

I'm 18 today. Legal to vote, legal to go to war--

That is, if I weren't committed in this asylum.

I don't blame Aunt Kate and Uncle Doug. Things were so confusing for so long. There were days I could barely hang onto my own name. There were too many other thoughts, too many personalities that wanted to impress themselves on me. How do you explain that to people without sounding crazy? Who was going to believe that I was psychic?

You would have. You'd have tried to help me. Why did you have to die? You saved my life that day, but for what?

I'm sorry, Mom. That's not fair. You didn't want to die. I'm sorry.

So, anyway. Eighteen today. We had a party. It was dismal. The cake was chocolate because Aunt Kate believes that normal people love chocolate. She's pregnant again--this child will live, I know it. I told her, too, but I don't know if she believed me. Uncle Doug snuck in some liquor, which Dr. Edith promptly confiscated. Still, it was the first time in a long time he's treated me with something other than pity or concern. Guess that means a lot, considering. Oh, and Edith got me something--a new friend. Not a dog or anything, but an intern. Joshua Lawson. He's arrogant, but I don't think he's a jerk. Just very, very sure of himself. Guess I'll be taking him down a peg or two.

I'll tell him the truth about my abilities. He won't believe me, but he'll pretend to--it's part of his psychiatric technique, neuro-linguistic programming. Like I'm a computer. But who knows? Maybe it will work. Heaven knows medication and meditation have done oh-so well. If it does, I'll have to hide it, though; Malachai likes his little guinea pig under his control. Gonna be an interesting summer.

Still, I hope it works. I need to get out of here, one way or another. Even if I skip the country and live my life on a deserted island, at least it will be my life, right? Who needs people, anyway? People are just headaches and confusion.

I don't know why I'm writing this, other than I promised Edith I would. She promised she wouldn't read it, but I'm going to burn it, anyway. Let's face it--psychic powers, "take him down a peg," not to mention the stuff about Malachai. I sound crazy, violent and paranoid. Just like you'd expect a committed teen to act, right?

Anyway, I feel Joshua coming down the hall. Edith actually let him sneak out the booze. I'm not legal drinking age, anymore, but I guess if I can't go to war or vote, right? I'll toast you, Mom. I love you and I miss you. I am grateful that you gave me life. Don't worry; I'll figure out what to do with it.

Love,
Deryl