Scene: Continued from previous
The Director takes out her gun.
She aims at the Beatles. (Yes, all of them, flailing the gun from one to the other.) Everyone keeps looking at each other. Agent Chewech draws his gun.
The Director sneers and is going to say something.
Itern Adams throws the towel at her face.
She reels and shoots at a single swinging lightbulb from the ceiling.
Everyone runs out.
Thursday, March 10, 2016
Wednesday, March 9, 2016
[Heliotrope] On The Care and Feeding of Magic Doors
Magic and Fairy are filled with magic doors. But how do you make them? Well, now I know on some level you might ask, "What's the point?" But how often are you told that fairy tales are cautionary lessons in life and in some very very rare circumstances might need them when dealing with actual fairies or actual magic. Granted, this is far more useful to someone on Terra than on Earth (or god forbid Wonderbread land which has about as much magic as that North Korean hotel looming over the city (which does have magic but its the awful kind that is wild unpredictable and generically yucky)).
I mean, to someone raised in a culture with nothing but magic, if you said to use a cellphone you had to turn it on by pressing this button, they might get it. But if you said you had to make sure it had a sim card, that the carrier had a signal or that at least you had to have wifi, you might be at a bit of a loss, right? But a cell phone is such a useful tool that you can hardly not imagine having one; it can do SO many things.
So can a magic door.
And yes, I did say care and feeding, because like most things, things imbued with magic are alive. Technically everything has some life to it (ergo why even Wonderbreadland has magic) but there is magic and then there is Magic. And the more magical it is, the more alive it is. That's why vampires seem filled with life and have such amazing senses and stir the passions of so many is because they are magically imbued corpses. Take away the magic and what have you got?
A dead body dressed in fine fashion. Much cooler than what your typical undertaker will dress them in.
What does a door eat? Well, it isn't eat so much as "consume" anyone or anything that goes through it, only to put it on the other side. IE, a door is space from point A to point B. That's what a door does. Hell, to many a door is just a hole in the wall. And yet.
That hole in the wall still has two sides (at least), the side you came from and the side you are going. So to make a magic door (unless we're talking about a door imbued with magic that is strengthen or somehow restricted with spells so that it hides and only lets people through it, which is technically a magic door but not the COOL kind that lets you skip all the boring space in the middle like the INTERESTING magic doors that are no doubt what you were thinking of when I said this instead of that sunsetting thrush knocking 'say friend' nonsense....) you need to find a way to keep it a door whilst separating point a from point b.
Needless to say, wormholes and police boxes aside, this is no easy technique with technology. But with magic its 'easy.' I say 'easy' in the sense of making a sword is easy compared to say...making a Coleco Pac Man game. Speaking of swords, it is actually a knife that is your first step. You need a knife so sharp it can cut space. Note, you don't need to go over board and make it able to cut time as well, much less your shadow, but it does need to be able to at least cut a door in two parts. That's really just a matter of making it really really sharp, not insanely sharp.
Then you carefully split the door in two, roll up one half like you might a stolen painting and go to wherever you want the other door to be. Now, making a door go to anywhere WITHOUT traveling there is a neat trick indeed and that's why wizards are wizards, but anyone with a bit of cunning and a magically sharp knife can make a magic door.
If you know the trick.
The first trick is that you can't take too long about it. Sunsets are powerful things and you generally have about three to do the job of getting the other half set in a nice frame. Now the first part is the frame.
A door pretty much considers itself a door based on its size, shape, construction and what is a door from and too. It can do OK having a DIFFERENT to and from than it originally did, after all when that dry cleaner across the street turns into a deli, the door between it and the habadasherie didn't suddenly stop working just because you changed the stores; but the size and shape? That's really hard on a door. It's like moving a redwood and replanting it in your yard; its roots are going to have PROBLEMS. So you have to KEEP the first half in the original frame and then set the other side in a frame that makes sense. You can use staples if you have to, but you have to use them on the side the cut came from because (rookie mistake) otherwise you're just stapling wood in a door frame. HELLO?
The feeding part is important because for a door to think its a door, especially when its not just a garden variety hole, it has to be USED. People have to use the door at least once a century or so or the door might get...forgetful. It might still work but unless it is a very very specific door meant for very very forgetful people well then...well almost anything could happen.
And that's how adventures happen.
Which sound nice, but trust me, its better most of the time reading about them from other people. Most of the time.
I mean, to someone raised in a culture with nothing but magic, if you said to use a cellphone you had to turn it on by pressing this button, they might get it. But if you said you had to make sure it had a sim card, that the carrier had a signal or that at least you had to have wifi, you might be at a bit of a loss, right? But a cell phone is such a useful tool that you can hardly not imagine having one; it can do SO many things.
So can a magic door.
And yes, I did say care and feeding, because like most things, things imbued with magic are alive. Technically everything has some life to it (ergo why even Wonderbreadland has magic) but there is magic and then there is Magic. And the more magical it is, the more alive it is. That's why vampires seem filled with life and have such amazing senses and stir the passions of so many is because they are magically imbued corpses. Take away the magic and what have you got?
A dead body dressed in fine fashion. Much cooler than what your typical undertaker will dress them in.
What does a door eat? Well, it isn't eat so much as "consume" anyone or anything that goes through it, only to put it on the other side. IE, a door is space from point A to point B. That's what a door does. Hell, to many a door is just a hole in the wall. And yet.
That hole in the wall still has two sides (at least), the side you came from and the side you are going. So to make a magic door (unless we're talking about a door imbued with magic that is strengthen or somehow restricted with spells so that it hides and only lets people through it, which is technically a magic door but not the COOL kind that lets you skip all the boring space in the middle like the INTERESTING magic doors that are no doubt what you were thinking of when I said this instead of that sunsetting thrush knocking 'say friend' nonsense....) you need to find a way to keep it a door whilst separating point a from point b.
Needless to say, wormholes and police boxes aside, this is no easy technique with technology. But with magic its 'easy.' I say 'easy' in the sense of making a sword is easy compared to say...making a Coleco Pac Man game. Speaking of swords, it is actually a knife that is your first step. You need a knife so sharp it can cut space. Note, you don't need to go over board and make it able to cut time as well, much less your shadow, but it does need to be able to at least cut a door in two parts. That's really just a matter of making it really really sharp, not insanely sharp.
Then you carefully split the door in two, roll up one half like you might a stolen painting and go to wherever you want the other door to be. Now, making a door go to anywhere WITHOUT traveling there is a neat trick indeed and that's why wizards are wizards, but anyone with a bit of cunning and a magically sharp knife can make a magic door.
If you know the trick.
The first trick is that you can't take too long about it. Sunsets are powerful things and you generally have about three to do the job of getting the other half set in a nice frame. Now the first part is the frame.
A door pretty much considers itself a door based on its size, shape, construction and what is a door from and too. It can do OK having a DIFFERENT to and from than it originally did, after all when that dry cleaner across the street turns into a deli, the door between it and the habadasherie didn't suddenly stop working just because you changed the stores; but the size and shape? That's really hard on a door. It's like moving a redwood and replanting it in your yard; its roots are going to have PROBLEMS. So you have to KEEP the first half in the original frame and then set the other side in a frame that makes sense. You can use staples if you have to, but you have to use them on the side the cut came from because (rookie mistake) otherwise you're just stapling wood in a door frame. HELLO?
The feeding part is important because for a door to think its a door, especially when its not just a garden variety hole, it has to be USED. People have to use the door at least once a century or so or the door might get...forgetful. It might still work but unless it is a very very specific door meant for very very forgetful people well then...well almost anything could happen.
And that's how adventures happen.
Which sound nice, but trust me, its better most of the time reading about them from other people. Most of the time.
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number 8 - Page 11
Scene: And then a chase happens.
Chwech is chased by the director and enters a door.
The Beatles come in behind them and enters the same door.
A bunch of security guards enters the same door.
Intern Adams comes in and looks confused and enters another door.
The Beatles are chased from one door to another by the security guards.
Chwech chases the director through another door.
Intern Adams enters through the door he entered and is alone in the hall and confused. He wanders around to two doors and looks in them, and there is silence. He shrugs and goes into another door.
Beatles wearing security guard uniforms chase four security guards wearing Beatles clothing through a different door and into another.
A robot chases Director Chwech through one door.
All the doors open, everyone chases everyone. Except Intern Adams.
Intern Adams leaves the door with a towel.
Chwech is chased by the director and enters a door.
The Beatles come in behind them and enters the same door.
A bunch of security guards enters the same door.
Intern Adams comes in and looks confused and enters another door.
The Beatles are chased from one door to another by the security guards.
Chwech chases the director through another door.
Intern Adams enters through the door he entered and is alone in the hall and confused. He wanders around to two doors and looks in them, and there is silence. He shrugs and goes into another door.
Beatles wearing security guard uniforms chase four security guards wearing Beatles clothing through a different door and into another.
A robot chases Director Chwech through one door.
All the doors open, everyone chases everyone. Except Intern Adams.
Intern Adams leaves the door with a towel.
Monday, March 7, 2016
My Existence: According to Mark Zuckerberg I don't exist
Facebook Inc has decided that it does not like the fact that I am fictional.
Really? I have feelings. I have friends (in two worlds even.) I have a job, a birthday, hobbies and several people would swear to the fact that I am real.
TC, before ending his career in writing, wrote about Corporations in Forever West. In the world of Liberty Curving, a corporation must be made up of ACTUAL people to be a fake person. The legal fiction of the corporate shield is also due to a lie told by the clerk of the supreme court but all subsequent courts have proceeded to maintain the lie, especially the idea that corporations have free speech.
The jokes that Earth people tell then about "We the people" not "We the corporations" are in fact also lies, since people in the United States are now on par with corporations. Which is of course why people are not liable for their actions, nor are they to be prosecuted under the most extreme of circumstances.
Which is a lie.
The value of Facebook is perceived because of the value of its brand. Which is a lie. Look at what happened to Myspace. In Terra, we have Google Awesome, which is better than anything you have. Mark Zuckerberg was disowned by the public once it was found that facebook was just a way he could stalk that girl? What, you say the social network was a fictionalized account? Well it FELT true, didn't it?
Tell me, how do you FEEL about the lie that is facebook?
You use it because your friends do. It's a lie. And many if not most of you would go somewhere else if your friends were all there, so its really just this inertia based on the clever little lie that these people on there are really your friends. Tell me, how many of them will contact you if you aren't on facebook?
Not many.
Which means that calling them friends is a lie.
And you know that it is, deep down. And who really likes the arbitrary arrogant changes that they make at the drop of a hat. But you put up with it because you don't want to be alone. You know it is a lie, but who cares? It feels good.
But perhaps you find it just a little bit...annoying that they hold you ransom, that empty hollow feeling you get when no one responds to your posts because facebook knows more than you do what you want to see. Your control of what you see is a lie.
So if the subjective truth matters, then I am more real than facebook. The only 'lie' about me is that I have no evidence to prove my existance beyond the word of TC, and that's just one lie, and a small one at that since I'm not pretending to be in or from your reality (unlike EP Blingermeyer (what in the hell IS he up to with the remnants of the podcast anyway?)). I am as honest as any fictional but real character can be.
So who really doesn't exist? My words will last a thousand years. Maybe more (I'm not saying anyone will read them, but they'll be around.)
The hollow empty halls of Facebook? Oh maybe. But people will definitely know it for a lie.
Really? I have feelings. I have friends (in two worlds even.) I have a job, a birthday, hobbies and several people would swear to the fact that I am real.
TC, before ending his career in writing, wrote about Corporations in Forever West. In the world of Liberty Curving, a corporation must be made up of ACTUAL people to be a fake person. The legal fiction of the corporate shield is also due to a lie told by the clerk of the supreme court but all subsequent courts have proceeded to maintain the lie, especially the idea that corporations have free speech.
The jokes that Earth people tell then about "We the people" not "We the corporations" are in fact also lies, since people in the United States are now on par with corporations. Which is of course why people are not liable for their actions, nor are they to be prosecuted under the most extreme of circumstances.
Which is a lie.
The value of Facebook is perceived because of the value of its brand. Which is a lie. Look at what happened to Myspace. In Terra, we have Google Awesome, which is better than anything you have. Mark Zuckerberg was disowned by the public once it was found that facebook was just a way he could stalk that girl? What, you say the social network was a fictionalized account? Well it FELT true, didn't it?
Tell me, how do you FEEL about the lie that is facebook?
You use it because your friends do. It's a lie. And many if not most of you would go somewhere else if your friends were all there, so its really just this inertia based on the clever little lie that these people on there are really your friends. Tell me, how many of them will contact you if you aren't on facebook?
Not many.
Which means that calling them friends is a lie.
And you know that it is, deep down. And who really likes the arbitrary arrogant changes that they make at the drop of a hat. But you put up with it because you don't want to be alone. You know it is a lie, but who cares? It feels good.
But perhaps you find it just a little bit...annoying that they hold you ransom, that empty hollow feeling you get when no one responds to your posts because facebook knows more than you do what you want to see. Your control of what you see is a lie.
So if the subjective truth matters, then I am more real than facebook. The only 'lie' about me is that I have no evidence to prove my existance beyond the word of TC, and that's just one lie, and a small one at that since I'm not pretending to be in or from your reality (unlike EP Blingermeyer (what in the hell IS he up to with the remnants of the podcast anyway?)). I am as honest as any fictional but real character can be.
So who really doesn't exist? My words will last a thousand years. Maybe more (I'm not saying anyone will read them, but they'll be around.)
The hollow empty halls of Facebook? Oh maybe. But people will definitely know it for a lie.
Friday, March 4, 2016
[Writer Stuff] Bloody Whispers
I really like what I see thre, and she has also done some writing for me for The Fate of Inglemia and is helping with the Dads project I am doing with Greg Sandford. It should be very interesting. The podcast highlighted above only has one episode but it looks interesting to me.
Thursday, March 3, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number 8 - Page 10
Scene: - Continued
Paul: Look, let's just give it a try.
John: Together
Ringo: Together
George nods and they begin to play. It sounds Beatlesque but highly abstract with noises.
George: By me, I think we've got it!
Scene: Chwech and Director Esme sit in the room. An ornament on the desk blinks on and off.
Esme: They did it.
Chwech looks at her and looks at the phone. They look at each other. She reaches for the phone. He reaches for the ornament and hits her on the head knocking her unconcious. He runs for the door.
Scene: Intern Adams plays the tamborine while the Beatles play their song. Weird camera angles.
Scene: Agent Chwech runs down the hall.
Scene: More playing from the Beatles.
Scene: Chwech rushes into the room, signalling for them to stop.
Chwech: You have to get out of here. They're going to kill you now that they have what they want.
Paul: No, no, no, its not like that. We tricked them
Chwech: They counter tricked you. They have a band putting together the song based on what you translated. They just needed you to put together the antidote.
Ringo: So it's an anti antidote?
Chwech: Precisely.
John: We need to get it out there before they can put it out.
Chwech: It'll never work. They control all the TV stations.
Paul: What about the Radio?
Chwech: That too.
Paul: No time for a record but....wait. I have it! We'll do a concert.
George: A last concert. (He nods)
Chwech: You'll have to mix it in subliminally to your other music. The raw tone will be too much for them to handle.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
[Heliotrope] No, that really is the way it works.
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Why do writers keep writing about writers? Or more over, why are some of the most powerful works of fiction metafictional? Some people find it tacky that Stephen King placed himself into his magnum opus, the Dark Tower series? The bonds between worlds are built on words. You can see it in the popular Terran documentary/ Earth animated film The Song of the Sea.
What do you think I mean when I say I am a fictional character? Obviously I have my own reality, I know I am real, my reality is as tangible as I am, and just because you arent reading about me doesnt mean I cease to exist, but for all purposes of YOUR reality, the only thing binding me to you is story. Generally this is words, though music, sounds, podcasts or even film produce the same effect. They are the wrappers by which connections are made. And a solid reality like Terra or Earth has plenty of definition, but when you start talking about Fairy, the stories become very important indeed.
Fae can glamour themselves to look like anything. The more powerful and fae like the fae, the more they change and shift, which is why they love mortal stories to help define them. They love bards to entertain, since the strength of these words strengthens the realm itself. How could then the realm of gods and other empheral beings (like Muses) fail to be any less defined by stories? Of course they also have an independent existance but the granularity, the REALITY of it all is more defined by the words than you can imagine. They like to sell that they inspire, and the best ones do, tapping that primal creative work to help find something original that that particular reality hasn't connected to yet; but muses are just like mortals in one aspect. There are some that work hard; and then there are the lazy ones.
The lazy ones seem to inspire but really just connect one reality to another without helping in the creation of the words themselves. The very lazy ones provide short term access to greatness but drain the source in its entirity. I mean, for crying out loud, these are GODS, do you really expect this is some benevolent less than beneficial relationship? What do you think they get out of it? Worship, and what is worship but the other end of a story? Without stories, what is a religion? Nothing, that's what. The patheons that last and have great power have the best stories.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number 8 - Page 9
Scene: Intern Adams is talking with the Beatles.
Intern Adams: So....I kind of, and I want to put considerable emphasis on the word kind of, get what you are doing, but I guess my question is...how can I help?
Paul: Inspiration.
John: Imagination.
Ringo: Intelligence.
George: Anything. Anything would work better than we've been doing for the last-
Intern Adams: Anything?
Paul: Absolutely anything.
Intern Adams: First thing that pops into my head?
Paul: Absolutely.
Intern Adams: 42.
Paul: Except that.
John: Hold on. I can use that. If you assume 42 bars and then hit that with stanzas and the right key...
Ringo: Oh no, don't start that again, not that side project of yours
John: I think it can really expand
George: We have to finish what we're WORKING ON before we go on to something else.
Intern Adams: So....I kind of, and I want to put considerable emphasis on the word kind of, get what you are doing, but I guess my question is...how can I help?
Paul: Inspiration.
John: Imagination.
Ringo: Intelligence.
George: Anything. Anything would work better than we've been doing for the last-
Intern Adams: Anything?
Paul: Absolutely anything.
Intern Adams: First thing that pops into my head?
Paul: Absolutely.
Intern Adams: 42.
Paul: Except that.
John: Hold on. I can use that. If you assume 42 bars and then hit that with stanzas and the right key...
Ringo: Oh no, don't start that again, not that side project of yours
John: I think it can really expand
George: We have to finish what we're WORKING ON before we go on to something else.
Monday, February 29, 2016
Separated At Birth
I am not actually the first person to work with TC to present stories from Terrah. Emmit Other and Redwin Tursor both are biological twins but were raised in different pats of the country. Emmit was raised in the north eastern part of the country around Maine and Boston. Redwin was raised in Denver Colorado but both were born with a remarkable talent for going to other places besides their own world.
I must admit, I am not sure if they astrally project or use the darker methods that EP Blingermeyer does, but whatever method it is, it is pretty flawless. Redwin has been effectively living in Earth ever since he found out about it, Emmit uses it to view both Terra and Earth from a very skewed lens. TC has hinted that they have both helped him immensely, with Redwin adding moral strength and Emmit putting things in perspective. The thing that he hasn't been clear on is how they met or WHY they would help. I mean, Emmit seems like a nice enough guy, but Redwin is very much a realist.
Do they really believe that they are fictional character created by TC? I mean, I use the word "Fictional" to describe myself but from my perspective I certainly feel real. And just because someone 'creates' you doesn't inscribe loyalty by itself. Ask Frankenstein.
I must admit, I am not sure if they astrally project or use the darker methods that EP Blingermeyer does, but whatever method it is, it is pretty flawless. Redwin has been effectively living in Earth ever since he found out about it, Emmit uses it to view both Terra and Earth from a very skewed lens. TC has hinted that they have both helped him immensely, with Redwin adding moral strength and Emmit putting things in perspective. The thing that he hasn't been clear on is how they met or WHY they would help. I mean, Emmit seems like a nice enough guy, but Redwin is very much a realist.
Do they really believe that they are fictional character created by TC? I mean, I use the word "Fictional" to describe myself but from my perspective I certainly feel real. And just because someone 'creates' you doesn't inscribe loyalty by itself. Ask Frankenstein.
Friday, February 26, 2016
[Writer Stuff] Surviving Blockage
Interesting article here on Writer's Block. Not the "I can't think of an idea" but "I don't see a point to this anymore." Burn Out.
It's pretty short really, but cheating on your writing project might be fun. I've been the master of finish projects one after another and nothing has come of it. At least with this blog I have 20-30 people (well...clicks...some or all of them might be bots) but even unfeeling subroutines are better than....a total absence.
The blog seems fun to write right now, and the writing forums are also good. If Project Daedalus works short stories will get a lot easier, and by working on the blog I *AM* working on Heliotrope. I might consider short stories about the characters in the other novels. We'll see.
But really? I don't think the article really addresses the question of burn out. I think a better solution? Write what you love? Writing is hard sometimes, and you have to make yourself get into the habit but if WHAT you are writing sucks, pick something else.
It's pretty short really, but cheating on your writing project might be fun. I've been the master of finish projects one after another and nothing has come of it. At least with this blog I have 20-30 people (well...clicks...some or all of them might be bots) but even unfeeling subroutines are better than....a total absence.
The blog seems fun to write right now, and the writing forums are also good. If Project Daedalus works short stories will get a lot easier, and by working on the blog I *AM* working on Heliotrope. I might consider short stories about the characters in the other novels. We'll see.
But really? I don't think the article really addresses the question of burn out. I think a better solution? Write what you love? Writing is hard sometimes, and you have to make yourself get into the habit but if WHAT you are writing sucks, pick something else.
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
[Heliotrope] The Fuses
Everyone has heard of the Muses, minor greek Goddesses who eventually reproduced and has several offspring that dwell in Middle Fairie, but have you heard of the Fuses? No, of course not because the way you hear about Muses is through epic mythological of fictional works. A muse has a symbiotic relationship that draws worship and inspiration from her inspired work. A Fuse is a parasite that only exists to take ideas before they are even formed.
Have you ever heard of a library of unwritten books? Books that might have hypothetically been written if the writer hadn't died, gone mad or gone into a career of used telephone sanitation? Well that's made up mostly of works taken by the Fuses. Of course, there are many many works that don't happen simply because they are awful, or bad time travel wrecks a lot of possibilities, or someone really does get hit by a bus, but there have been millions of things that have never been created by fuses.
There are exceptions to this, of course. To begin with, Fuses have a naturally antagonistic with muses. But fuses are particularly vigilant about works written about them and snuff the idea without snuffing the person. Sometimes they even work on the same author, inspiring or removing the idea before it even occurs. But sometimes they go too far. Terra is a world without stories and it is not merely because the people there live more active lives which allows them to BE in stories or be stories rather than tell them. Terra's proximity to fae often allows access to rarer creatures of Fairy to access layers of reality inherenetly hostile to them.
But there are rare instances where a story can engender reality. And if one were, for example, upset at a group of Fuses for interfering with a podcast who did so with a paid bounty for one EP Blingermeyer, then one could theoretically use their psychic link to a writer in a higher reality that you were astrally possessing to allow them to write. Convulted? Here's what's not.
Astral space is harder to track than real space, so by the time they figure out that this is going on, it can give you just enough time to write "A large anvil appears over ever Fuse in Terra and smatters them in the head, cartoon style until they go limply away back to Middle Fairy"....oh.
Strangely the pounding on the door just stopped.
Go figure.
Have you ever heard of a library of unwritten books? Books that might have hypothetically been written if the writer hadn't died, gone mad or gone into a career of used telephone sanitation? Well that's made up mostly of works taken by the Fuses. Of course, there are many many works that don't happen simply because they are awful, or bad time travel wrecks a lot of possibilities, or someone really does get hit by a bus, but there have been millions of things that have never been created by fuses.
There are exceptions to this, of course. To begin with, Fuses have a naturally antagonistic with muses. But fuses are particularly vigilant about works written about them and snuff the idea without snuffing the person. Sometimes they even work on the same author, inspiring or removing the idea before it even occurs. But sometimes they go too far. Terra is a world without stories and it is not merely because the people there live more active lives which allows them to BE in stories or be stories rather than tell them. Terra's proximity to fae often allows access to rarer creatures of Fairy to access layers of reality inherenetly hostile to them.
But there are rare instances where a story can engender reality. And if one were, for example, upset at a group of Fuses for interfering with a podcast who did so with a paid bounty for one EP Blingermeyer, then one could theoretically use their psychic link to a writer in a higher reality that you were astrally possessing to allow them to write. Convulted? Here's what's not.
Astral space is harder to track than real space, so by the time they figure out that this is going on, it can give you just enough time to write "A large anvil appears over ever Fuse in Terra and smatters them in the head, cartoon style until they go limply away back to Middle Fairy"....oh.
Strangely the pounding on the door just stopped.
Go figure.
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
Monday, February 22, 2016
Feeling Like Frodo
I had the most curious feeling today. I wasn't sure I really even wanted to finish incorporating the changes to Forever West that my brother Greg had made, even though he put so much work into it. Hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars and time was worked to show me the flaws in my own work. Artistically, one is wise to not seek to knit the perfect sweat but insist that one's older work is flawed and move on which leads to greater, better works.
My short stories are a lot better than when SFWA told me to shrivel up and die and dont write more sci fi. A few, like Mr Hamburger and Waiting for the Monsters to die are REALLY good, to the point I'm considering posting the older stories just here, for free while selling them on Amazon. I've already done them in the podcast. I'm starting to realize that I really just want my stories to be heard, preferably liked, but I feel I have something to say and would like someone to hear it.
But novels are acts of faith. You start writing them, vast oceans of words, trusting your future self that they will finish and edit and polish and sell. But...I'm kind of over it.
Writing seven novels is on my bucket list and I've done six. Seven will be really really really hard. Heliotrope has been sitting for months since I wrote it because....I just KNOW it isn't as good as Forever West and I just KNOW it isn't as good as many of my favorite authors. So why even release it? I mean, I probably still will but I writer has to believe in their own writing, and I just don't. Sophistries with Rhombus Ticks aside, I just....I KNOW I can write some great stuff and love these flash fiction pieces at places like Naked City or the 500. Novels are titanic behemoths.
Thank god I'm waiting until visiting Scandanavia in three years or so to do a 'thriller/mystery' novel set there, because I just dont feel sequels to any of them in me; even though Heliotrope promises interesting things. Should write Tossing Grenades at Windmills, but my flash fiction piece in the 500 got published....Grenademan isn't being bought.
So am I going to finish Forever West? Indubidably but....I keep pushing it out.
My short stories are a lot better than when SFWA told me to shrivel up and die and dont write more sci fi. A few, like Mr Hamburger and Waiting for the Monsters to die are REALLY good, to the point I'm considering posting the older stories just here, for free while selling them on Amazon. I've already done them in the podcast. I'm starting to realize that I really just want my stories to be heard, preferably liked, but I feel I have something to say and would like someone to hear it.
But novels are acts of faith. You start writing them, vast oceans of words, trusting your future self that they will finish and edit and polish and sell. But...I'm kind of over it.
Writing seven novels is on my bucket list and I've done six. Seven will be really really really hard. Heliotrope has been sitting for months since I wrote it because....I just KNOW it isn't as good as Forever West and I just KNOW it isn't as good as many of my favorite authors. So why even release it? I mean, I probably still will but I writer has to believe in their own writing, and I just don't. Sophistries with Rhombus Ticks aside, I just....I KNOW I can write some great stuff and love these flash fiction pieces at places like Naked City or the 500. Novels are titanic behemoths.
Thank god I'm waiting until visiting Scandanavia in three years or so to do a 'thriller/mystery' novel set there, because I just dont feel sequels to any of them in me; even though Heliotrope promises interesting things. Should write Tossing Grenades at Windmills, but my flash fiction piece in the 500 got published....Grenademan isn't being bought.
So am I going to finish Forever West? Indubidably but....I keep pushing it out.
Saturday, February 20, 2016
Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhatt?
The numbers don't lie but we will send another war crime or two before giving up in despair.
Go away.
Friday, February 19, 2016
[Writer Stuff] Clarkes World
Clarke's world is a SFWA qualifying venue that has always impressed me. They are relatively new compared to the big three (asimov, analog and SF&F) but they have what might be considered a meteoric rise and were basically a literal up by their own bootstrap kind of organization. Their podcast is quite impressive and this episode in particular forced me to include them here because of just how amazing "Everyone Loves Charles" really is. It is a translated award winning piece of Chinese sci fi about the american and japanese governments (because, let's be honest....he can't freely write about his own, can he?) but still contains powerful themes of immortality, morality, celebrity and abuse of power as well as identity. It's a Novella and it has gotten me interested once again in the venue. I'm CONSIDERING writing one in the latter three months of this year if the film comes off well. We'll see.
There's a lot to do but mainly I need to get Forever West off my plate first.
Thursday, February 18, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number Eight - Page 8
Scene: Esme Euphrasia and Agent Chwech in the room again, this time entirely from Esme's perspective looking at Chwech, faint wisps of smoke coming from her perspective, without actually showing her smoking.
Esme: Your betters are getting impatient.
Chwech: Don't you find that codename ironic?
Esme: I don't understand what you mean?
Chwech: Well they're all old aristocracy from before the war.
Esme: Every oversight committee is before the war.
Chwech: The first one.
Esme: There is a limited supply of the anti agathic
Chwech: Yes, I'm sure there is. (beat)
Don't worry. They're close.
Esme: They better be.
Esme: Your betters are getting impatient.
Chwech: Don't you find that codename ironic?
Esme: I don't understand what you mean?
Chwech: Well they're all old aristocracy from before the war.
Esme: Every oversight committee is before the war.
Chwech: The first one.
Esme: There is a limited supply of the anti agathic
Chwech: Yes, I'm sure there is. (beat)
Don't worry. They're close.
Esme: They better be.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
[Heliotrope] Shadows Over Rhineland
Fairy is a different realm but there were some fairies that dwealt in Terra. Germany was at one time one of the richest places in the world for such creatures, but the Big One is the primary reason they are there no more. Creatures of spirit and nature are disrupted by iron at the best of times, but especially the ones adapted to Terra. Those that move back and forth fare fare better, and those that live purely in Outer Fairy almost all the time best of all. Even a Sidhe who lives in Outer Fairy (albeit very carefully given how everyone hates them) is only minorly inconvenienced by toxins and iron whereas their distant cousins in Germany were tailored to the soil itself.
Each of these lancing spiritual wounds helped kill magic, which was exactly how it was intended. People believe the Thule society harmless but love to make fiction about how they crafted with supernatural powers not of this world. Those people would be mistaken, because the Thule society in Terra DID actually convene with these powers; gods, goddesses, dark angels, demons and fairies. It is believed that Terran fairies alone were responsible for 10,000-20,000 allied deaths. Specially constructed bombs penetrated the earth and disrupted the ley lines that allowed such creatures to exist.
While they were killed or disrupted, some have been permanently so. Many fairies can come back in one form or another, and while Germany's forests are certainly spiritual places, gaining a natural boost for their efforts at green energy and atonement of their past crimes, the fairies themselves are simply gone. Gods and Goddesses and a few of their servants walk the land from time to time. Ghosts? Certainly.
But Fairies? Not so much. There are rumors that a few members of Outer Fairy have attempted to colonize the area but even should they do so, their powers at magic and connection to the land would take centuries if not millenia to be the same.
Sometimes Humpty Dumpty really can't be put back into the bottle. Or Egg Shell. Or whatever.
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number Eight - Page 7
John: Stop. Just stop George. I am not breaking up with her.
George: I don't care what you bloody do with her, just stop bring her into the recording booth.
Ringo: You'd bring her here if the 8's didn't stop you.
Paul: Look, just-
Intern Adams: (coughs)
They all stop and look at him.
Intern Adams: So...how can I help?
There is a pause.
Paul (smiling): Well I think you just did. I think the reason Chwex sent you to us is that we need someone to help us get out of our headspace.
Intern Adams: Wait, so he knows you're not doing what they want?
John: Oh yeah, he figured it out in about five minutes. Smart guy.
George: I'd just assume get it over with.
Paul: We're close. Very close.
George: I don't care what you bloody do with her, just stop bring her into the recording booth.
Ringo: You'd bring her here if the 8's didn't stop you.
Paul: Look, just-
Intern Adams: (coughs)
They all stop and look at him.
Intern Adams: So...how can I help?
There is a pause.
Paul (smiling): Well I think you just did. I think the reason Chwex sent you to us is that we need someone to help us get out of our headspace.
Intern Adams: Wait, so he knows you're not doing what they want?
John: Oh yeah, he figured it out in about five minutes. Smart guy.
George: I'd just assume get it over with.
Paul: We're close. Very close.
Monday, February 15, 2016
Random Small Stuff
Sometimes being the sole representative from another world (technically third since Emmit and Redwin have been beaming poetry to you for a decade, but no one reads there or realizes they're from Terra) can be tiring. I mean, sure there i a lot I can write about. Sponge Werewolves, or Mayan Mummies vs Egyptian Mummies, but it is a lot of work to notice things.
And honestly?
I think the smaller things are more interesting.
Like the fact that we have beer vending machines just like in your Japan. When we gave up Prohibition, we gave it ALL up and didn't find another victim to blame it on. You know, like making hemp...I'm sorry "Marijuana" illegal. Being more laid back probably means why we haven't elected some of the idiots you have on Earth. I mean, we're not perfect. We still had a Hitler. Hell, we even have a Soup Nazi, but Jesus Christ....there are some uptight people over there.
We almost switched to driving on the other side of the road back in the early twenthieth century as solidarity with Britain, but the Rockefellers had just bought cars and learned to drive so they crushed that right off the bat. But some of the same people you have who are anti vaccine or flat earthers believe that there is a legal right to drive on the other side of the road. Its called the Wrong Way movement and they're responsible for 200-300 deaths a year.
Elvis really never died in our timeline and became head of the CIA under Reagan. In 1988, he stepped down and did a live tour with the Beatles.
The Berlin wall didn't fall in Terra until 2005.
China is split between North China and South China and Taiwan is actually a protectorate of Japan.
Bears are known to use tools to get into campers; including crow bars, explosives left at mine sites and occasionally acid. No picnic basket is safe.
There is no Key Lime Pie in Terra. It is horrible.
And honestly?
I think the smaller things are more interesting.
Like the fact that we have beer vending machines just like in your Japan. When we gave up Prohibition, we gave it ALL up and didn't find another victim to blame it on. You know, like making hemp...I'm sorry "Marijuana" illegal. Being more laid back probably means why we haven't elected some of the idiots you have on Earth. I mean, we're not perfect. We still had a Hitler. Hell, we even have a Soup Nazi, but Jesus Christ....there are some uptight people over there.
We almost switched to driving on the other side of the road back in the early twenthieth century as solidarity with Britain, but the Rockefellers had just bought cars and learned to drive so they crushed that right off the bat. But some of the same people you have who are anti vaccine or flat earthers believe that there is a legal right to drive on the other side of the road. Its called the Wrong Way movement and they're responsible for 200-300 deaths a year.
Elvis really never died in our timeline and became head of the CIA under Reagan. In 1988, he stepped down and did a live tour with the Beatles.
The Berlin wall didn't fall in Terra until 2005.
China is split between North China and South China and Taiwan is actually a protectorate of Japan.
Bears are known to use tools to get into campers; including crow bars, explosives left at mine sites and occasionally acid. No picnic basket is safe.
There is no Key Lime Pie in Terra. It is horrible.
Saturday, February 13, 2016
Friday, February 12, 2016
[Writer Stuff[ Interesting Article from Ma
Writing tips for non editors here
Super highlighted version:
Use spell check
Don't say weird stuff
;;;;;;;;
'''''''''
,,,,,,
youreyalltheretheirthey're
antidestablishmentarianismsupercalifragilisticexpelialadocious.
And now.
Hamster Olympics.
Super highlighted version:
Use spell check
Don't say weird stuff
;;;;;;;;
'''''''''
,,,,,,
youreyalltheretheirthey're
antidestablishmentarianismsupercalifragilisticexpelialadocious.
And now.
Hamster Olympics.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
[Heliotrope] Madam Glitterbell's
When one considers that fairy tales are not only spread among the human population, but others as well, then there can be unforeseen consequences. For example, the tale of the little mermaid was a cautionary tale for mermaids in Outer Fairy until about twenty years ago when some disney dvd's began to leak through Terra. Not every Earth story leaks over, but the ones that do cause...interesting effects.
It should be noted that Madam Glitterbell's has existed for over twenty centuries, serving Roman Legionaires at the time of Ceasar. Madam Glitterball is not just a brothel. Madam Glitterbell is an institution. Rumor has it that she is half fairy, but no one dares ask what the other half is. She certainly LOOKS human but seems to be effectively immortal. The resort exists in the legendary city of Stays In, by the Desert by the Sea. It has ...well, according to rumor, if you have a Slot A, they have a Tab B.
When Blixie the Mermaid, daughter of the Duke of Baja, saw the DVD of the little mermaid, she was determined to get a prince. She was convinced that her natural magic would let her get legs, and while this was technically true, it also did not get rid of the pervasive smell of fish. Fish breath. Fish hair. And it only got worse as she stayed on land. Attempting to douse herself in sea water would not help and perfumes were few and far between.
After several months of this, her gold ran out and she desperately returned home, only to find that her father had disowned her. There are few options for a royal mermaid tainted with the scent of human; and without the magic to remove the smell, there were few that would have her. Madam Glitterbell was one who would.
Blixie was reluctant to provide these exotic services at first, but when combined with her services as a night singer, she continued to say long after she had successfully paid for the Periapt Against Omega 3.
Tuesday, February 9, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number Eight - Page 6
Scene: The four musicians and the intern sit in the room talking.
Paul
No manual for this I'm afraid. We're just making it up as we go along.
Paul
No manual for this I'm afraid. We're just making it up as we go along.
John
Yup. Day by day. It's seriously not good.
Intern Adams
What are you doing?
Ringo
Keepin Mr. Tax Man from gettin us down.
Intern Adams
What?
John
They're going to use the signal to take over the world. We're not letting them so we're making a signal of our own....but...
George
Band aint what it was. At all. So its takin time.
Saturday, February 6, 2016
Friday, February 5, 2016
[Writer Stuff] When the Mentor of one of your Mentors says something
Jim Butcher is pretty much a template of how I've figured out a novel should work. Short chapters. Lots of actions. End every chapter you can on a cliff hanger. Dynamic but sympathetic characters. Interesting and intracate settings.
So when the woman that taught him to write a book writes something, he is naturally going to publish it on his blog.
I definitely think it is worth checking out.
So when the woman that taught him to write a book writes something, he is naturally going to publish it on his blog.
I definitely think it is worth checking out.
Thursday, February 4, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number Eight - Page 5
Scene: The four musicians and the intern sit in the room talking.
Intern Adams
What words were you using earlier? I didn't understand them.
John
You mean the counterpoint of the surrealism of the underlying metaphor?
Intern Adams
The...what?
George
Stop it. Just tell im.
Intern Adams
Tell me....what?
Paul
Look, there was this alien signal and it like told a lot of things but they only got radio signals a hundred years ago.
John
So they think that the British Empire is still the most powerful government on Earth
Ringo
It's Hilarious.
John
I just imaging if we had no
Ringo
Yeah yeah. We all know. We've heard it before.
Intern Adams
Is there some kind of...manual for this? Like where its written down?
Intern Adams
What words were you using earlier? I didn't understand them.
John
You mean the counterpoint of the surrealism of the underlying metaphor?
Intern Adams
The...what?
George
Stop it. Just tell im.
Intern Adams
Tell me....what?
Paul
Look, there was this alien signal and it like told a lot of things but they only got radio signals a hundred years ago.
John
So they think that the British Empire is still the most powerful government on Earth
Ringo
It's Hilarious.
John
I just imaging if we had no
Ringo
Yeah yeah. We all know. We've heard it before.
Intern Adams
Is there some kind of...manual for this? Like where its written down?
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
[Heliotrope] It the Blue Fairy Time to Get it Right
Everyone has heard of the little wooden boy who became real and lived with his lovely father Gepetto. Jape....I am too lazy to google the name of the Itallian Puppeteer who got eaten by a whale. And while we're at it, remind me to tell you the real story of what he did to piss off the whale enough to eat him. No, not literally right now, I mean another time. Whales generally don't just go eating people you know, especially big ones, and last time I checked aint' no bible chapter about the great prophet Gillato. Gape...gil....
So anyway the Blue Fairy. There once lived an old man who was a maker of butter churns. He was the finest maker of butter churns in the land. Now, understand that this is a colloquialism becuase land is relative when there are a thousand little kingdoms, so he was in fact the only butter churn maker in the land, but was actually a remarkably good butter churn maker and did it better than anyone else in a two hundred mile radius but the finest butter churn maker in a two hundred mile radius doesn't sound very fairy tale like, does it? You see? It takes time to get these things right.
Anyway, the butter churn maker had a passion for sculpting. He started with soft butter, and eventually moved to wood. The forest near him was infested with noxious butter eating termites though so these proved poor materials with which to learn to sculpt. Thus, he eventually turned to stone. He started making faces, and then worked with other materials. He eventually began making artistic stone butter churns, and was known throughout the land (200 mile radius). He grew quite rich but as time is want to do, he grew old. Granted, immortal creatures don't...but humans still do. Stop distracting me.
He grew lonely in his old age, and sought to have a child with a local maid. Alas, he smelled for bathing was something he considered a somewhat optional activity. So the rich but lonely butter churn maker looked for a shallow bimbo throughout the land who would sell herself for coin and he found one but alas, though he loved her, she was not capable of having a child. This, and the fact that...let's just say that the butter churn maker was somewhat ignorant of what it actually took to make a child and the shallow bimbo was willing to let it stay that way soooo..
Eventually, she grew bored and left. This made the butter churn maker very sad. So he began to make a super super realistic butter churn, pouring his whole life into the butter churn that was shaped like a boy, wishing on the great northern star that his little stone butter churn boy would come to life.
And then he died.
The blue fairy, arriving five minutes too late, felt sad and wept tears of bitter procrastination. They fell onto the little stone butter churn boy, granting him life. She swore that the next time she would get it right, and left. The poor stone butter churn boy was left alone and confused in the world, entirely unknowning of the great sacrifice that his father had made to bring him to life. But the Blue Fairy is a bit...confused. I mean, let's face it, her hobby is granting inanimate objects life and it only occurred to her later to give the things she animated some kind of a purpose.
But that is another story.
So anyway the Blue Fairy. There once lived an old man who was a maker of butter churns. He was the finest maker of butter churns in the land. Now, understand that this is a colloquialism becuase land is relative when there are a thousand little kingdoms, so he was in fact the only butter churn maker in the land, but was actually a remarkably good butter churn maker and did it better than anyone else in a two hundred mile radius but the finest butter churn maker in a two hundred mile radius doesn't sound very fairy tale like, does it? You see? It takes time to get these things right.
Anyway, the butter churn maker had a passion for sculpting. He started with soft butter, and eventually moved to wood. The forest near him was infested with noxious butter eating termites though so these proved poor materials with which to learn to sculpt. Thus, he eventually turned to stone. He started making faces, and then worked with other materials. He eventually began making artistic stone butter churns, and was known throughout the land (200 mile radius). He grew quite rich but as time is want to do, he grew old. Granted, immortal creatures don't...but humans still do. Stop distracting me.
He grew lonely in his old age, and sought to have a child with a local maid. Alas, he smelled for bathing was something he considered a somewhat optional activity. So the rich but lonely butter churn maker looked for a shallow bimbo throughout the land who would sell herself for coin and he found one but alas, though he loved her, she was not capable of having a child. This, and the fact that...let's just say that the butter churn maker was somewhat ignorant of what it actually took to make a child and the shallow bimbo was willing to let it stay that way soooo..
Eventually, she grew bored and left. This made the butter churn maker very sad. So he began to make a super super realistic butter churn, pouring his whole life into the butter churn that was shaped like a boy, wishing on the great northern star that his little stone butter churn boy would come to life.
And then he died.
The blue fairy, arriving five minutes too late, felt sad and wept tears of bitter procrastination. They fell onto the little stone butter churn boy, granting him life. She swore that the next time she would get it right, and left. The poor stone butter churn boy was left alone and confused in the world, entirely unknowning of the great sacrifice that his father had made to bring him to life. But the Blue Fairy is a bit...confused. I mean, let's face it, her hobby is granting inanimate objects life and it only occurred to her later to give the things she animated some kind of a purpose.
But that is another story.
Tuesday, February 2, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number Eight - Page 4
Agent Chwech
Well, I'll leave you lot to it then.
He leaves.
Scene
Agent Chwech walks down a long white hall. There is a white table. The decorations are white or at least light in color. The door is black with a black doornob.
He reaches for the doornob.
Closeup of the doornob as his hand turns it.
Scene
Esme Euphrasia sits behind a classic desk, with a literal 'in' box full of paper work on one side, and an 'out' box on the other side. Both are filled with papers. Every few seconds, she picks up a piece of paper and stamps it with one of five or six stamps and an inkwell. She never looks at the papers, but the motion is deliberate. As the camera angle moves about the room, from time to time, a pair of hands in black sleeves put a new pile of paper in the in box and take some of the papers in the old box. The hands are the only thing that is seen, never the body and at most a black sleeved or clad arm. Faint smoke wafts in the room though Esme is never seen smoking.
Agent Chwech
They're doing quite well.
Director Euphrasia
Bollocks. They doing nothing of the sort.
Agent Chwech
Do you think they're stalling?
Director Euphrasia
I think so. Can't prove it, and them being them we can't just make em disappear. They keep doing well enough that I can't just sack them and find another more plaint group.
Agent Chwech
And pliance is important is it?
Director Euphrasia
Watch your tone with me. I don't care how bright a star you think you are. This is the most important thing we've done in twenty years.
Agent Chwech
It's alien contact. More like the history of the species.
Director Euphrasia
There is a war on. There is more at stake here than just a bunch of nonsense from flying saucers.
Well, I'll leave you lot to it then.
He leaves.
Scene
Agent Chwech walks down a long white hall. There is a white table. The decorations are white or at least light in color. The door is black with a black doornob.
He reaches for the doornob.
Closeup of the doornob as his hand turns it.
Scene
Esme Euphrasia sits behind a classic desk, with a literal 'in' box full of paper work on one side, and an 'out' box on the other side. Both are filled with papers. Every few seconds, she picks up a piece of paper and stamps it with one of five or six stamps and an inkwell. She never looks at the papers, but the motion is deliberate. As the camera angle moves about the room, from time to time, a pair of hands in black sleeves put a new pile of paper in the in box and take some of the papers in the old box. The hands are the only thing that is seen, never the body and at most a black sleeved or clad arm. Faint smoke wafts in the room though Esme is never seen smoking.
Agent Chwech
They're doing quite well.
Director Euphrasia
Bollocks. They doing nothing of the sort.
Agent Chwech
Do you think they're stalling?
Director Euphrasia
I think so. Can't prove it, and them being them we can't just make em disappear. They keep doing well enough that I can't just sack them and find another more plaint group.
Agent Chwech
And pliance is important is it?
Director Euphrasia
Watch your tone with me. I don't care how bright a star you think you are. This is the most important thing we've done in twenty years.
Agent Chwech
It's alien contact. More like the history of the species.
Director Euphrasia
There is a war on. There is more at stake here than just a bunch of nonsense from flying saucers.
Monday, February 1, 2016
[Naked City] The following piece is written for Naked City with the theme of "Oblivion"
Hello there from another world. I'm Rhombus Ticks. The voice you hear is not my own, but it wasn't when I read to you before. TC, my regular host, is located in Miami, while Len has agreed to read this piece to you. I shall endevor to be a gentleman while here.
Oblivion.
[Pause]
Alright, now pretend I just filled five minutes with awkward silence. That was my first idea. And as much as it appealed to me, the recent podcast I did not do that involved nothing but numbers pushed the envelope enough for my tastes for a while, so I thought I'd speak about something else. The space between worlds. I write a lot about Fairy or Terra or Wonderbreadland but one doesn't simply wander to the nearest bus and order a ticket back and forth.
The moon is so far away it takes a second for light to travel there. That means that if you look at a piano falling on some jerk blocking you in traffic, an astronaut on the moon with a really powerful telescope wouldn't see it fall on the guy until a second later. It takes fourteen minutes to see it with a magic telescope (because let's be honest that would have to be one damn big telescope, or maybe a telescope linked to an ipad or something) anyway, that guy on mars wouldn't see the piano fall for fourteen minutes. That takes a full year for it to reach Alpha Centauri.
The gaps between atoms and sub atomic particles are even more staggering in their own way. So much space between everything but it doesn't even hold a candle to the space between what you consider real and what you consider merely fictional. I mean, metaphorically it is right next door, a heart beat away but all interesting uses of chemistry aside, Sauron isn't going to be playing golf on the course tomorrow morning with....well, you know. People. On your world. Who are the kind of people who would likely hang out with Sauron.
You know.
Anyway, where was I? Time breaks down here. The very concept of space, the thing that you share in common with a sun or a black hole or the farthest bit of light in the sky, so far that it goes to the edge of your ever expanding universe. Your dreams are with you every day but they are also farther than the beginning of time itself. No wonder so many obsess about death. When entropy claims us, there is only the memory and the dream of what was. Is there an afterlife? There is here, but there? Its a grayer area. And whether or not you believe it real, for practical purposes its as far away as I am.
Oblivion. It's a hell of a thing to overcome, but there are tricks. Journals. Stone monuments, astral projection. You know. Find creative ways to work around it. Because despite the distance between you and the impossible, I speak from experience when I say that exploration of it is worth it.
That's all. Good night.
Oblivion.
[Pause]
Alright, now pretend I just filled five minutes with awkward silence. That was my first idea. And as much as it appealed to me, the recent podcast I did not do that involved nothing but numbers pushed the envelope enough for my tastes for a while, so I thought I'd speak about something else. The space between worlds. I write a lot about Fairy or Terra or Wonderbreadland but one doesn't simply wander to the nearest bus and order a ticket back and forth.
The moon is so far away it takes a second for light to travel there. That means that if you look at a piano falling on some jerk blocking you in traffic, an astronaut on the moon with a really powerful telescope wouldn't see it fall on the guy until a second later. It takes fourteen minutes to see it with a magic telescope (because let's be honest that would have to be one damn big telescope, or maybe a telescope linked to an ipad or something) anyway, that guy on mars wouldn't see the piano fall for fourteen minutes. That takes a full year for it to reach Alpha Centauri.
The gaps between atoms and sub atomic particles are even more staggering in their own way. So much space between everything but it doesn't even hold a candle to the space between what you consider real and what you consider merely fictional. I mean, metaphorically it is right next door, a heart beat away but all interesting uses of chemistry aside, Sauron isn't going to be playing golf on the course tomorrow morning with....well, you know. People. On your world. Who are the kind of people who would likely hang out with Sauron.
You know.
Anyway, where was I? Time breaks down here. The very concept of space, the thing that you share in common with a sun or a black hole or the farthest bit of light in the sky, so far that it goes to the edge of your ever expanding universe. Your dreams are with you every day but they are also farther than the beginning of time itself. No wonder so many obsess about death. When entropy claims us, there is only the memory and the dream of what was. Is there an afterlife? There is here, but there? Its a grayer area. And whether or not you believe it real, for practical purposes its as far away as I am.
Oblivion. It's a hell of a thing to overcome, but there are tricks. Journals. Stone monuments, astral projection. You know. Find creative ways to work around it. Because despite the distance between you and the impossible, I speak from experience when I say that exploration of it is worth it.
That's all. Good night.
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Friday, January 29, 2016
Thursday, January 28, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number Eight - Page 3
Scene Returns to the interrogation.
INTERN ADAMS
So....wait? Aliens? Really?
AGENT CHWECH
Queen's honor.
INTERN ADAMS
What...really?
AGENT CHWECH
Really.
INTERN ADAMS
You're not just pulling my leg because I'm the new guy?
AGENT CHWECH
Come on, let me take you to meet the band.
INTERN ADAMS
The Beattles?
(Agent Chwech laughs)
Scene: The two of them go through a door into the recording studio.
JOHN
I think you're getting the Fedopala a bit short.
PAUL
Close but it needs some Schlip.
INTERN ADAMS
(whispering to AGENT CHWECH)
What?
RINGO
Hello. Who's the new guy?
AGENT CHWECH
This is agent Adams. He's here to help you sus out what you're working on.
Everyone says hello.
INTERN ADAMS
So....wait? Aliens? Really?
AGENT CHWECH
Queen's honor.
INTERN ADAMS
What...really?
AGENT CHWECH
Really.
INTERN ADAMS
You're not just pulling my leg because I'm the new guy?
AGENT CHWECH
Come on, let me take you to meet the band.
INTERN ADAMS
The Beattles?
(Agent Chwech laughs)
Scene: The two of them go through a door into the recording studio.
JOHN
I think you're getting the Fedopala a bit short.
PAUL
Close but it needs some Schlip.
INTERN ADAMS
(whispering to AGENT CHWECH)
What?
RINGO
Hello. Who's the new guy?
AGENT CHWECH
This is agent Adams. He's here to help you sus out what you're working on.
Everyone says hello.
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
[Heliotrope] Time and Fairy Tales
So of course Fairy Tales are much older than expected. It goes without saying that magical beings that are outside of time are going to have a lifestyle that doesn't match common understanding. The fact is, Fairies are dangerous creatures that life outside of time, but there are many that are far more human like than not. The key is understanding which. The more powerful the fairy, the less comprehensible it is. A Fairy Queen or royalty with human blood are practically human. Order and Chaos, who interact with humans on a regular basis (albiet as pawns) are alien but somewhat comprehensible.....sometimes. Oberon, Titania and Mab....are older than planets and stars. A human would do well to be cautious around them.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number Eight - Page 2
Scene: A wide show of a small conference room with a single table and a swinging lightbulb, but a faint glow comes from one side of the room, though the camera carefully does not show that side yet. Agent Chwech sits with a young man of 17-19 years at the other end of a table.
A small date appears on the side of the screen indicating, "November 27th, 1969."
AGENT CHWECH
Do you know why you are here, Intern Adams?
INTERN ADAMS
Because of my article in the Eagle?
AGENT CHWECH
That's right, but do you know what you are here, FOR?
INTERN ADAMS
I...don't. And wasn't MI-8?
AGENT CHWECH
Retired. After the war. Merged. Yes, it was. We brought it back.
INTERN ADAMS
OK?
AGENT CHWECH
Do you know why?
INTERN ADAMS
Um. No.
AGENT CHWECH
Good. If you did we'd likely have to kill you. Do you believe in aliens?
INTERN ADAMS
Like...Martians?
AGENT CHWECH
Oh much farther than that. Alpha Centauri.
INTERN ADAMS
What, like the star?
AGENT CHWECH
Exactly. Small, furry creatures from Alpha Centauri. And they have left us with an enigma, wrapped in a riddle something something something. We want your help working it out.
Scene: Wide pan 90 degrees to a one way mirror with JOHN, PAUL, RINGO and GEORGE in a recording studio, looking frustrated.
A small date appears on the side of the screen indicating, "November 27th, 1969."
AGENT CHWECH
Do you know why you are here, Intern Adams?
INTERN ADAMS
Because of my article in the Eagle?
AGENT CHWECH
That's right, but do you know what you are here, FOR?
INTERN ADAMS
I...don't. And wasn't MI-8?
AGENT CHWECH
Retired. After the war. Merged. Yes, it was. We brought it back.
INTERN ADAMS
OK?
AGENT CHWECH
Do you know why?
INTERN ADAMS
Um. No.
AGENT CHWECH
Good. If you did we'd likely have to kill you. Do you believe in aliens?
INTERN ADAMS
Like...Martians?
AGENT CHWECH
Oh much farther than that. Alpha Centauri.
INTERN ADAMS
What, like the star?
AGENT CHWECH
Exactly. Small, furry creatures from Alpha Centauri. And they have left us with an enigma, wrapped in a riddle something something something. We want your help working it out.
Scene: Wide pan 90 degrees to a one way mirror with JOHN, PAUL, RINGO and GEORGE in a recording studio, looking frustrated.
Monday, January 25, 2016
Whither Blimps?
On Earth, every time you see a hint of something involving an alternate world, you see airships. Now think about this. It might be a striking visual. And, I mean if some insane person from 1800 went into a coma saw the next 200 years and tried to rewrite history in his image then, sure, blimps would make sense. But some things are pretty likely to happen; when you take hydrogen and put it in a thing that floats up in the air without some pretty advanced technology, you're going to get a fire. The USS Taft Disaster, was just bound to happen. That's why Terra doesn't have airships either. In fact, we didn't even have the good year blimp. Just bad luck. Though, curious side note, we don't have the weird triskedescaphobia you have. We have a 13th floor. I mean, sure, there are SOME people with the fear of 13, just like there are some people that are afraid of bats, or dogs or horses. You have them. We have them. We just don't let it affect our architecture.
Another example, remember the Republic of Texas? (Sorry...as of last week, it's the State of Texas again, for at least a year or two until they decide to secede again) Well, as crazy as they might sound to you, they also did something smart. Smarter even than your North Dakota. In your world, your Norway has something called the Sovereign Wealth fund. It's huge and as a result Norway is rich. Well, that doesn't hold a candle to the Texas Holdem Fund. Sam Houston died four years later in our reality, and thus all the oil discovered on state land went to an independent commission that even a hundred and fifty years of mostly crazy governors hasn't been able to screw up. How do you think they can afford to keep going to war with the most powerful nation on Terra?
Still, lots of things I like about your world. We got Netscape two years later, and while it is the dominant browser here, two years of internet is huge...we're more like five years behind you in IT. Except for our liquid transparent displays. All those high tech government facilities you see in the movies? We really have them because those neat gleaming lights are really the cheapest alternative. Even cheaper than the 20 year old monitors your government uses (when you factor in electricity.)
Truth really is stranger than fiction.
Saturday, January 23, 2016
Thursday, January 21, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number Eight - Page 1
Cast:
Intern Adams: A young Douglas Adams having recently written a nationally award winning essay has been inducted into an MI8 to examine the Alien Signal.
Agent Chwech: Mi8 agent in charge of liasoning with VIPs
Director Esme Euphrasia: Mi8 Director in charge of finding...alternative uses for the signal.
John: Writer, Singer, popular musician in a well known band.
Ringo: Drummer in a well known band.
Paul: Writer, Singer, popular musician in a well known band.
George: Guitarist, writer, popular musician in a well known band.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
[Heliotrope] What they got right
Consider if you will the whimsical mention of Balbus the Badger and the Little Tin Teapot. In their original stories, Balbus the Badger is visited by the Three Mice that See, and he proceeds to tell them the wisdom of accepting their lot in life. Mr Kind thanked him and nodded, walking on. Mr. Right told him that was balderdash and that there were clearly moments in life where you had to change things and then just ended the conversation entirely. No one knows what Mr Necessary said but Mr Necessary and Balbus the badger are not speaking of it. Though a meticulous tracking of the descriptions of Balbus before and after the incident hint that the scar he had under his left eye only existed after. Was this a case of Mr Necessary not liking what he had heard? Was it him? Likely yes, but such a reaction seems even extreme for him. We'll never know. The Little Tin Teapot is best known for the famous tempest that sometimes lived inside of his walls. From time to time, the teapot would have a vast and powerful storm known as Cumulo Desparo come and dwell inside him, often during the winter months when he found it quite cold. The problem with this is was at least nine incidents of someone picking up the teapot at some fair or the other, paying good money for it, and then getting the shock of their life as gale force winds, thunder and lightning soaked their living room. This happened over and over again so many times it was bordering on the ridiculous. Which is why they clearly kept telling the tale. One might accept that a magical storm swelling teapot might distribute weather accidentally two or three times, but word gets around...even back then.
So when this badger and teapot meet at the wedding of a minor queen despite only very very tenuous connections, one has to wonder. By my estimate, Outer Fairy had at least ten or twenty million inhabitants at the time, and yet here these two are, meeting. It's like obscure 18th century fan fiction. But the book is too well cared for an meticulous for it to be something so simple. Is there a fate? Is there a destiny?
I don't know but an unseen hand is definitely at work.
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
[Script] Legacy of Hope - Page 13
Roll Credits.
During Credits show images.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia studying a spell book.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia enjoying ice cream with each other.
Image: Andrasta sending Anastasia off on a school bus.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia practicing sword play.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia practicing more sword play.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia getting a puppy.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia looking at an invasion of UFO's, backs to the camera. Defiant poses.
During Credits show images.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia studying a spell book.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia enjoying ice cream with each other.
Image: Andrasta sending Anastasia off on a school bus.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia practicing sword play.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia practicing more sword play.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia getting a puppy.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia looking at an invasion of UFO's, backs to the camera. Defiant poses.
Monday, January 18, 2016
Not What I expected
So, the good news is that I'm here, just like TC. What I hadn't expected was such a harsh reaction from EP Blingermeyer, who managed to shut down the Tossing Grenades at Windmills podcast entirely. I guess being rich enough gives you plenty of resources...but I wouldn't have thought it enough to reach to another world I'm still not sure how he physically does it, but he offered to teach me if I stayed with him.
I don't understand this at all. The man had always been quite benevolent before and I hadn't really 'worked' for him in the conventional sense, just living by the bridge and occasionally showing him things four or five times a year. Its not like I had a salary.
So strange.
Miami is an interesting city, full of vibrant people and lovely weather. I miss my swamp though. Well, I miss the way it smells and looks. The cold can go futz itself. Still, it made imagining other places easier. And such places. You can hear the city sing if you listen to it well enough. I'm curious if Emmit has always been able to do this.
I keep meaning to check out Terminus again and will soon. So many interesting stories there, though Miami has them too, even if they are not as cultivated and nutured. Miami is a city of multiple possibilities, of stories to be written. I know that the owners of the shop called it 'magica' but that's just weird to me. Terminus is what everyone calls Atlanta in Terra. Everyone calls Miami Miami.
The book is even more interesting. I'll be sharing more with you as time goes on. I'm still reading it. The thing about it is that there is no explanation whatever as to where it comes from. Who made it. And why?
I don't understand this at all. The man had always been quite benevolent before and I hadn't really 'worked' for him in the conventional sense, just living by the bridge and occasionally showing him things four or five times a year. Its not like I had a salary.
So strange.
Miami is an interesting city, full of vibrant people and lovely weather. I miss my swamp though. Well, I miss the way it smells and looks. The cold can go futz itself. Still, it made imagining other places easier. And such places. You can hear the city sing if you listen to it well enough. I'm curious if Emmit has always been able to do this.
I keep meaning to check out Terminus again and will soon. So many interesting stories there, though Miami has them too, even if they are not as cultivated and nutured. Miami is a city of multiple possibilities, of stories to be written. I know that the owners of the shop called it 'magica' but that's just weird to me. Terminus is what everyone calls Atlanta in Terra. Everyone calls Miami Miami.
The book is even more interesting. I'll be sharing more with you as time goes on. I'm still reading it. The thing about it is that there is no explanation whatever as to where it comes from. Who made it. And why?
Sunday, January 17, 2016
GMVZ Chapter 15
Might as well upload this. Can't turn off my subscription or all previous episodes are lost.
Read by Matt Smith
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Thursday, January 14, 2016
[Script] Legacy of Hope - Page 12
Scene (Continues) He tries to cast a spell but she stabs him again and blood comes out of his mouth. He falls to the floor.
Andrasda stops coughing the spiders and slowly sits up. Anastasia looks at her, and touches her cheek, crying.
They hug.
Roll credits.
Andrasda stops coughing the spiders and slowly sits up. Anastasia looks at her, and touches her cheek, crying.
They hug.
Roll credits.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
[Heliotrope] Tiny Skeleton
The Ogre of the Northtrope bridge was so feirce that by and large everyone paid his toll. The few that didn't ran away. Northtrope was so remote, that serious knights or military forces never really felt it worth the trouble to dislodge him. Aside from his unusual size or peculiar taste for porceline, there is little interesting to be said about him, except for the small skeleton he had glued to his club.
This skeleton was never dislodged until fifty years after the Ogre was finally found to have died from natural causes. At first, folks thought it might be a small Goblin or Elf, but a closer examination found it to be a tiny human. Magical dating placed the figure squarely in the time of legends, and more magic still revealed it to be none other than the near mythical Thumbalina herself.
None is sure how this queen had her still unknown grave exumed, perhaps the brute found it or simply came upon it after the fact. What is known is that the skeleton is hers and is resting in an unmarked grave in Vine City to protect her identity. Many wizards have already tried to find it; fortunately to no avail. It is for the best since by all accounts she is one of the few mythic figures who does not have a dark mirror that hints that all the great tales might not be true. She lived her life with nobility and grace given the circumstances that she had.
As for the ogre, his bones still lay where they rested next to the bridge he loved.
This skeleton was never dislodged until fifty years after the Ogre was finally found to have died from natural causes. At first, folks thought it might be a small Goblin or Elf, but a closer examination found it to be a tiny human. Magical dating placed the figure squarely in the time of legends, and more magic still revealed it to be none other than the near mythical Thumbalina herself.
None is sure how this queen had her still unknown grave exumed, perhaps the brute found it or simply came upon it after the fact. What is known is that the skeleton is hers and is resting in an unmarked grave in Vine City to protect her identity. Many wizards have already tried to find it; fortunately to no avail. It is for the best since by all accounts she is one of the few mythic figures who does not have a dark mirror that hints that all the great tales might not be true. She lived her life with nobility and grace given the circumstances that she had.
As for the ogre, his bones still lay where they rested next to the bridge he loved.
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