Wed 5 Jun 2019
Musings
Posted by PJ under musings
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My problem as a fantasy writer is that I’m too logically-minded for dragons. I swore I would never use them, but I went back on that promise to myself for one novel and it didn’t work out so well.
Someone suggested that it might be interesting to do a story from the POV of a very logical/intellectual dragon. I tried doing such a creature but reached the inevitable scene where someone needed to ride it and my mind rebelled against the usual scenario. It’s scientifically impossible for a human to ride on a dragon’s back. They’d be killed instantly, torn off the beast by wind velocity and g-forces. I couldn’t suspend my own disbelief in that regard and the alternate solution I came up with was utterly ridiculous.
So, an otherwise good novel was ruined in the third act. Alas, I didn’t have the heart for a complete rewrite at that point. And as time went on I realized there were other problems. (I tried to write a trilogy in one book, for one.) The dragon was just the most egregious.
Lesson learned: if you’re going to pull the dragon trigger, you’ve got to go all in, suspend your disbelief and have humans ride them in defiance of all laws of physics. Or don’t pull that trigger.
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I hate it when a trilogy is just good enough that you need to keep going but not good enough to be enthusiastic about it.
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It’s always a toss-up whether the Science Channel is going to inform me or scare the crap out of me.
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Maybe our alien overlords will impeach Trump. Then again, I don’t think even they could get it through the GOP-controlled Senate.
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Finally worked up enough nerve to open this box.
When in conversation I mention that I never really wanted children there is a certain species of woman who goes on about missing out on the miracle of birth and I want to say to them, “What a bunch of sexist crap.” It’s about choice, ladies, not about being brainwashed by social norms. I even had one tell me, “I’m sure you console yourself with that.” Believe me, if I really wanted to get knocked up it’s the easiest thing in the world. I just didn’t want it.
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The crows around here get most of my table scraps and leftovers that are past their prime. There’s one crow who sits atop the telephone pole near my house as a lookout. His job is to caw-caw-caw really loudly if I (or anyone else) throw things out into the yard. But before he does that he first comes down to help himself to a nice snack. Then he flies back to the telephone pole or the roof of my house and sends out the alert to the other crows. He ain’t no crow’s fool.
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You know, even if you roast troll meat in olive oil and garlic with some fine herbes it still tastes like sweat and urine.
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“Primitive” is such a Western-o-centric word, don’t you think?
