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Do we, as writers, need to plan out the Magic in our stories? Does it have to have a pattern or be consistent? Does it have to follow a rigid Dungeons & Dragons-type system, or can it be free-wheeling like Beagle's The Last Unicorn?
In another post, I talked about the difference between fairy tale magic and systematized magic, that every magic "system" — for lack of a better word — encompassed a bit of both.
But now I'm throwing that idea into the shredder and asking:
Do we need any reason or rationale at all? Where do even the ideas of what is Magic and what is not Magic come from?
(Note: I'm differentiating between Magic with a capital "M" and magic with a lowercase "m" because it's become apparent to me that not all magic is created equal. Some becomes definitive, classic, even cliche. Others less so. For instance, a wizard casting a spell with his staff is classic Magic, symbolizing what whole societies recognize as magical power; whereas, an author's invention of a talking trashcan that spits out weeks-old Chinese food, less so...)
Part of Magic's allure, for a lot of people, is how freeing it is. How unlike everyday reality. How not based on demanding rules or set outlines or schedules or economics.
That said, in order for Magic to be believable or authentic-feeling, it's got to have some sense to it. Some sort of order. Some actual grounding in reality. For many, Magic is not even Magic unless it reminds people about what they've already learned is magical, or what they've learned symbolizes Magicalness...
For instance, there are patterns (rules, if you will) of what is a Magical creature and what is not. Unicorns are magical creatures. Dragons. Griffins. Angels, even. None of these exist in the real world, so just the appearance of them says to the reader: Okay, we're in Magic-land now...
Without the universal recognition, or rule, of: unicorns are magical creatures, authors and storytellers everywhere wouldn't be able to use them so profligately as symbols of Magical-whateverness. If an author came in with a snake with two horns and a lion's mane and a baboon butt, people would not as automatically (as is the usefulness of any trope) associate that creature with Magic.
But doesn't this rub right up against the allure of Magic—that Magic has no limits and no bounds and is freeing and can be anything anywhere at anytime?
Apparently...Magic cannot.
Even Magic, to be of usefulness to storytellers, must have its own encyclopedias, its own histories, its own science, its own sense that, yes, the storyteller is sticking to the customs and courtesies and tropes and symbols we are all already familiar with. Otherwise, I'm throwing that book in the trash and going: "What was that author thinking!? Story makes no sense..." Even, if, fantasy is meant to transcend the very world we sense everyday around us, those fantastical stories—alas—cannot go too far.