An Epic in Verse - guest post from Mary Soon Lee

An Epic in Verse

Mary Soon Lee

Once upon a time, fantastical epics were written in poetry: the Epic of Gilgamesh (about four thousand years old), the Iliad (about three thousand years old), the Mahabharata (about two thousand years old), Beowulf (a mere thousand years old). Nowadays, however, we expect our epic fantasy in prose, often as a series of hefty volumes. But in 2013, I started writing a group of poems that grew into my own epic fantasy, The Sign of the Dragon, which tells the story of King Xau, chosen by a dragon to be king.

Why did I do this? It was almost an accident. I meant the opening poem to be a standalone piece. Except I was drawn to the boy in that poem. So I wrote another poem about him, and another, and another, until, three years later, I had over three hundred poems that together made up Xau's story.

I said that it was almost an accident, but writing the tale in individual poems suited me well. My youngest child was eight years old when I began. I wanted a writing project that would fit neatly into school days. Happily, I could usually complete a poem before it was time to pick up my children. Often I could get the laundry done as well. So writing my epic in verse was a major advantage for me. As for how it affected the tale itself…

Firstly, I should be clear that The Sign of the Dragon is not like the epics I mentioned earlier. It is mostly written in free verse, without rhyme or meter. And I think there's very little chance people will be studying it thousands of years from now!

Breaking the long story into poem-sized pieces gave me flexibility. I could switch from one character's perspective to another. I could zoom in on a particular battle, or a moment in that battle, or show that same moment from multiple perspectives. I could zoom out to an overview, or skip past months between one poem and the next. I could switch styles. (Yes, there are even some rhymed poems and haiku nestled in the book.)

Here, for instance, is a short poem about how news of an enemy invasion arrives, before the next poem switches to King Xau's thoughts as he rides off to war. This is the only time in the book that either Pigeon Six or the pigeon girl are mentioned.

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Pigeon Six

(first published in Uppagus)

Pigeon Six: no rank,
no name beyond her number,
but she the soldier sent
with news of the invasion.

Pigeon Six: no honors,
her message all that mattered
to any but the pigeon-girl
who cleaned her empty perch.

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A conventional novel can also present dozens of different perspectives or switch styles, but I think it takes more skill on the writer's part, as well as more concentration on the reader's part. The break between poems in itself signals a change, such as a shift in mood or a jump in time.

Breaking the story into poems also made it easier to write the tale out of sequence, and so allowed me to gradually work out the story's shape. For example, soon after I began, I wrote several poems about a demon, then later I went back and inserted a whole war before the demon ever appears.

One poetic device that I deliberately used was the epithet, following in the footsteps of Homer's wine-dark sea and swift-footed Achilles. So King Xau is sometimes called Horse Boy, and his first enemy is "red-haired, red-handed in war." I'm fond of repetition, plus it lets readers track characters without having to memorize every name. Some of the epithets are straightforward—"captain of Xau's guards" or "the young king"—yet can still be helpful. In hindsight, I wish I'd used epithets more extensively.

I loved being able to switch point of view! Unsurprisingly, we see Xau's perspective. And we also see from the perspective of his enemies, his bodyguards, his sister, his wife, his chief advisor, soldiers, a stable boy, a minstrel, a cleaning woman, a dragon, a monster, a cat. That was a great delight to me.

I think the switches in point of view had one other effect. They let me write about a character who was, or so my family warned me, too perfect. Xau spends most of the story doing what he believes is the right thing, no matter the personal cost to himself. This is exactly, precisely how I wanted Xau to be. Yet staying inside Xau's head all the time would make the story rather one-note. Shifting to his enemies, or seeing him from the point-of-view of one of his companions, hopefully adds flavor. I say "hopefully" because sometimes there's a gap between intentions and the end result. Of all the things I've written, The Sign of the Dragon is the one that means the most to me. But that doesn't guarantee readers will love it.

An ebook edition of The Sign of the Dragon appeared early in the pandemic, but it was only in 2025 that the first print edition was published. It's a chunky book, nearly six hundred pages, and contains forty wonderful illustrations by Gary McCluskey, two of which are shown here.

I will close with two short extracts showing very different points of view. First, one of Xau's enemies, and then the royal cat.

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(From Vengeance, first published in Star*Line)

They think her nothing, think her beaten,
think the dungeon holds her in.

But hers the will which woke the dead,
hers the wrath, the wolves' wild tread.

They think that's her: defeated, lamed,
thrown to the floor, tethered, tamed;

think her trapped, her limbs bound tight,
think the blindfold stops her sight.

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Permissible that the king pauses,
pushes away paper and brush,
bends down to stroke
behind her ears.

Later, she will inspect his desk.
Items may need to be rearranged.

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Mary Soon Lee’s The Sign of the Dragon has a book page with blurb, reviews and more samples, and can be ordered from Amazon or other good bookstores.

Mary Soon Lee is also the author of three poems, “Alien Armada”, “Not for Sale, Used Asteroid, One Owner” and “What Heroines Read” in past issues of The Future Fire.