I finished another re-read of my most recent book, A Field Guide to Fauns. In spite of this being an experiment expected to fail, I read into it a growing sense of my ability to write well. The issues it deals with, mental health, body shame, self-image, and dysfunctional families, are all things critical to my own understanding of myself. All of these things have deeply affected my life and my family’s life. And, being set in a nudist park, it has a certain aura of comedy about it that you can really only achieve with characters who are naked (figurative or literal are both funny).
Ironically, two of my five best books have nudists in them. Six of my fifteen books over all have nudist adventures in them at one point or another. That’s four more more than have Nazis in them. Four more than have werewolves in them. Four more than have zebra puppets in them, as well as four more than have literal clowns in them. And two more than feature aliens from outer space. Five more than have rabbits who are changed into people by science.
If nudity is not funny, then I have seriously miscalculated the appeal and gone entirely down the wrong garden path of humorous story-telling. So, since I now believe The Field Guide to Fauns is one of the best novels I have done, I may have actually laid an egg. (Who knew that farm boys could one day grow up to lay an egg themselves?) For balance I need to plant a few more carrots of irony in that garden that the garden path of humorous writing leads to.
Mandy Clarke, Pinky Pithers, and Tandy Clarke
I am planning to make my newest novel this month’s free-book giveaway sometime next week. I have a few more corrections to make on it before I do, so stay tuned. I don’t like it when I find bugs in the writing on the fourth re-read. But I think I may have sprayed them all with anti-bug proofing spray (figuratively speaking again, because with Mickey, you never know.)
Lemurians were shaped like human children except for the thumbs on each foot and the long prehensile tail. Most sentient aliens and Unhumans treated them like mere animals mostly because they wore no clothing and spoke no discernable language. Of course, nakedness made them much more like the Classical Worlders rather than apes. They were covered in soft tan and chocolate fur, but it covered up no more of their bodies than the oil that a naked athlete from the planet Mantua might wear.
And lack of language didn’t necessarily make them any less of a person than the vast numbers of humans that fell under the general heading of “stupid people”. Emperor Slythinus, though, the deposed Emperor of the Galtorr Imperium, had discovered a telepathic ability that he shared with the monkey people. He called it the “shining” because it was more a matter of reading colored auras and electrical impulses around the monkey people than reading actual words from their minds. It was a primitive brain-to-brain language that served as a sort of pre-telepathy. It allowed him to translate for the Lemurian people.
Ookah, the Lemurian leader, now stood in front of King Killer, Dr. Hooey, and Slythinus naked as the day he was born and radiating green-colored lies.
“How could you not tell me about this?” raged Slythinus. “You have been my most trusted friend. Better than my top advisors on Galtorr.”
The monkey man shined an answer that was intended to be soothing and conciliatory, but ended up being a transparent form of lie.
The blind Emperor turned to King Killer and Dr. Hooey. “They found the device when they first came through,” he said, interpreting. “They found it from the other side because they did not originate here. Ookah and his friends sought to keep the knowledge of it from me because they feared I would be hurt by the place’s guardian, some villain they “shine” at me as being a “white man”.”
“Interesting!” cooed Hooey. “These little monkey people have developed a real fondness for you, a man mostly snake by nature. Tell me, did you have your eyes when you first met them?”
“No, of course not! Prince Ali blinded me before he marooned me here.”
“I wonder if they would’ve had an atavistic fear of those eyes if they had seen them.”
“What I want to know,” said King Killer, “…is where is the dang thing, and how do we use it?”
Slythinus took a moment to “shine” back at Ookah. The little simian looked quite agitated as the answer came back.
“He says he will take us to the place. He has no other way to tell us.”
Ookah turned and gestured to the monkey people who surrounded the tree house sitting in each and every one of the trees around it. They began jumping up and down on branches and shouting raucously, sounding more like upset children than alien primates. Eerily, it almost sounded like a series of swear words.
“They don’t like it,” interpreted Slythinus, “but they promise to take us there and help us defeat the white man.”
“Natives defeating the white man?” said King dubiously. “That doesn’t sound like something that happens too often in History.”
Hooey laughed aloud. “Now the skeptic thinks he knows History better than a Time Knight! Wait and see. And remember the Little Bighorn.”
Canto 87 – The New Star League (the Multi-colored Thread)
Ged was still a bit stunned when he made his way the next morning to the meeting in Shen Ming’s Hall. But he knew it was going to be important as Shen Ming claimed to know nothing at all about it, which always turned out not to be true, and Tkriashav said it was about the direction the Prophecy would take next.
He entered the Masters’ Study to find Shen Ming sitting behind the desk, contemplating the desktop with his off-kilter stare. Tkriashav stood behind him with his arms crossed, looking disgustedly at the two guests standing before them. One was a clownish-looking fool in a scout uniform. The other was a young boy wearing tights that bore the insignia of Tron Blastarr’s Outpost.
“So, Liz was right. A scout ship has come to Gaijin.”
“You knew about the prophecy?” Tkriashav asked him.
“Not until she told me about it last night.”
“Did she tell you this little incident will require the founding of the New Star League?”
“No, she must’ve forgotten about that part.”
“We should kill her, Ged. She’s a spy for the Imperium. We don’t know who she’s meant to help in the working out of the prophecy.”
“But she’s the mother of my son.”
“Ah, gave you the egg, did she?” said Shen Ming with a grin that could kill a bear.
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Shen-sensei!” swore Tkriashav with a very mild swear. “Why do you insist on never telling me about the things you read in the prophecy?”
“For one who can read minds, you really don’t understand much about thoughts and feelings, I fear.”
Tkriashav’s glare had shifted fully to the back of Shen Ming’s spotty old head.
“Ah, so you must be Ged Aero, the famous White Spider of Prophecy.” The clown in the scout uniform wiggled his thick, black eyebrows weirdly.
“Who’s asking?” Ged asked.
“I am Captain Spaulding, the African Explorer.”
“No, you’re not,” said the boy. “You are going by the name of Bill the Postman.”
“Oh, right, right. It’s hard to forget sometimes. And easy to disremember.”
“Since when does the Imperium send messages and videos to Gaijin?” asked Tkriashav. “Gaijin is an unknown planet to the Imperial Scout Service.”
“The ISS don’t pay me enough to come here. Fortunately, the Star Nomads do.”
“Star Nomads?” Tkriashav asked.
“The Star Nomads? What are they?” Ged echoed the Psion.
“I thought you knew everything, old Zaranian spooky-dude. The boy can explain later. He’s a gift to Ged Aero from Tron Blastarr and the Magnificent Wanderer.”
“A boy is a gift to me?” Ged didn’t like the idea of people as property, let alone as gifts.
“Oh, not quite a boy. Take your head off and show them, Tiki.”
To Ged’s horror, the child peeled all the flesh and hair off his head, revealing a silver face that looked like Artran if it weren’t bald and made of metal.
“You are a Metaloid?”
“Yes,” said Tiki. “Your Metaloid from now on, Ged-sensei.”
“Even programmed with Gaijinese honorifics, he is.” Shen Ming smiled at the child as he put his head back on. “You will accept this boy, Ged, as a gift to the White Spider and an honor to own.”
Ged nodded consent, since he really had no other choice.
“Now we need to settle some details about the New Star League,” insisted Tkriashav.
“Like what, for instance?”
“Well, we have worlds to sign an alliance with to finally form the League.”
“What worlds?”
“Well, I was thinking of proposing Gaijin itself as the capitol world. Then there is the world you still own at Don’t Go Here.”
“I don’t really own that world. It’s a democracy now.”
“Yes, as is the world of Zarane which I have already secured in an alliance.”
“Three worlds against a thousand?”
“We also have treaties in our possession with the former Psion world of Phoebus IV. Tron Blastarr has pledged the forces and star system of Outpost, as Razor Conn has the system of Dancer. We may still take back the world of White Palm. And we have word that Duke Ferrari now reigns over Farwind.”
“So, seven worlds… maybe eight.”
“Yes.”
“Against a thousand.”
“Well, minus Dancer, Farwind, and White Palm, so more like 997.”
“Ah, comforting that sounds,” remarked Shen Ming.
“You will go with this Bill the Postman today as he leaves here?” Ged asked.
“Yes, as I seem to have no choice by the Prophecy,” answered Tkriashav. “Although it makes me worry to leave with this scout whose strange mind I cannot read.”
“Are you suggesting, sir, that I have no mind to read?” asked Bill who was really Scarpigo Snarcs but had first claimed to be Captain Spaulding.
“Certainly not. But you are not human. You are some sort of time-traveling being.”
“Ah, my mind is an open book, then,” said Bill Spaulding-Snarcs. “You just have to live with the fact that all the pages in it are blank.”
“You see what I mean about him not being human?”
“Yes. Where will you go?”
“What other choice is there? I must go back to Don’t Go Here. And when I go there, I must work out plans for the New Star League with Frieda. Ancient Technology has a large part to play in the Prophecy going forward.”
“At least you don’t have to go to Don’t Go Here alone,” offered Shen Ming with an inscrutable grin.
“Who is going with me?” Tkriashav seemed startled, an unusual state for one who reads minds so easily.
“Lizard Lady,” said Ged. “The Prophecy told her to leave too, just as it told you.”
“That’s a good sign,” said Shen Ming. “You are going to a planet called Don’t Go Here with a woman you would rather not go with in a space ship piloted by a man with a mind like a book with blank pages in it. Poetic to say the least.”
“And the least said, the better,” said Scarpigo-Bill Spaulding. “If you ask me, that is.”
Nocturne 7 – The Prophecy Fulfilled (the White Thread)
Ged returned to the Palace of 1,ooo Years with a lot on his mind. But, in truth, the last thing he was thinking of was becoming a biological father.
As he was entering the apartment that he shared with the Lizard Lady, he was surprised to see her sitting at the table with her feet folded under her and a large green egg on the tabletop in front of her.
“What is this, Liz?”
“You have been busy, my love.”
“I have, yes.”
“So have I.”
Ged suddenly had an eerie feeling about what this all meant.
“Is that…?”
“It is. You must say hello to your firstborn son.”
“But that is an egg.”
“One cannot fool the White Spider.”
“Galtorrian females lay eggs?”
“We do. Its gestation still has another six lunars to go.”
“Six Gaijinese lunars? Ten Earther months?”
“That is correct. You were in Galtorrian form when he was conceived. He will be as pure-blooded as any Galtorrian ever is.”
“How do you know it is a boy? Is he already formed in the egg that way?”
“That I do not know. But this is the child of the prophecy. This will be Lizardboy Aero, heir of the White Spider.”
“You will tend the egg like a bird? On a nest?”
“Not quite. Shen Ming has the necessary incubators to raise a Galtorrian cub. Lizardboy will not be the first eggborn delivered on this planet.”
Ged knelt on the opposite side of the table.
“May I hold it?”
“Certainly. You are his father.”
Ged carefully took the leathery but firm egg from her. He turned it over and over in his hands, examining it carefully.
“My mother on Questor would never have believed this of her son if she were still among the living.”
“May Zhan keep her soul, and may she be blessed by her grandson from another world.”
“Are all Galtorrian purebloods born by eggs?”
“Not all. There is much Earther DNA in Galtorrians. They have been intertwined for more than three thousand of your Earth years. Possibly from a time even before our two home-worlds were ever aware of each other.”
“I know fusions like Phoenix and Taffy King were born the way Earth humans are born.”
“Yes. All fusions are born the Earther way. That is why they are so much more human-looking than I am.”
“Ah, but you are beautiful too. I admit, I never felt it at the beginning, but I do love you now. And I will love this boy as well.”
“Now comes the hard part, my love.”
“What do you mean?”
“If it hadn’t been for the Prophecy of Zhan, I would never have met you. But my part in the prophecy is not yet ended. I am still a spy in the service of the Imperium, and I still have a destiny to fulfill.”
“So… what does that mean for the two of us?”
“We must part for now. I will leave in the morning, heading back into the Imperium.”
“In what ship? There is only the Dragon and the Rooster on this planet now.”
“The prophecy says a scout ship will arrive tomorrow. I must be on it when it leaves.”
“How will I raise our son without his mother?”
“You will be a wonderful father. And young Sara Smith is not the only lovely little lady that will happily play mother to our son.”
Ged’s head was swimming with emotion. This parting was completely unexpected and unwanted.
Most star systems in both the Imperium and what would become the New Star League are generally referred to by their primary world, the planet in the system with the most population, highest technology, and/or the dominant culture. Between the worlds of Djinnistan, Houris, and the three moons of the inner gas giant that had habitable atmospheres and ecosystems, namely Pan, Eblis, and Surtur, Djinnistan took first place not by population or culture, but because it was one of the three heart-worlds of Faulkner Genetics.
Now, I have never contended that I am any sort of expert on genetics and the science of DNA manipulation, but I do understand the dominant role that heart-worlds had in the creation of the kind of beings known as Freaks.
Freaks were genetically engineered slave races bred mostly from human DNA, though also including recombinant lifeforms made from other viably sentient creatures. They ranged from the Longlegs Speedsters of the planet Martin Faulkner’s Dream, to the Man-bull living bulldozers of Sword-World Prime, to the fire-belching Afrits of Djinnistan.
Djinnistan was the science playground of Faulkner Genetics’ number-two man, Dr. Havir Bludlust. He was a man capable of grafting and gene-splicing his own body to achieve a sort of immortality, and doing any necessary horrible thing to other beings to get the specific genetic effects he wanted in a special slave. It is rumored that he had genetically amplified his own brain and given himself two giant bird claws in place of feet. Many claim that his self-manipulations drove him to insanity, but the masters of gene-splicing were all a little bit insane to begin with.
On Djinnistan, Dr. Bludlust produced three different kinds of Freaks with a decidedly Arabian Knights sort of theme.
The little halfling-like creatures, called Peris by Dr. Bludlust, were bred for extreme creativity. They had basically the bodies of a human child with a slightly larger-than-normal head. Their eyes were large and very clear-sighted. And they thought in very innovative and eccentric ways.
One Peri engineer designed a ground car with chicken legs instead of wheels, capable of hopping over rough terrain and running smoothly at about the hunting speed of a velociraptor, providing the most common vehicle on Djinnistan because it was a design loved dearly by all Peris.
Another Peri engineer created a material-synthesizer cannon that could instantly create any kind of aquatic lifeform in the barrel and shoot it out to a distance of one hundred meters. This “fish-gun” was not particularly useful on a desert world like Djinnistan, but became a popular “trout gun” for the mountain streams of Houris. It was also used as a “barracuda gun” on more violent water-worlds like Design and Dancer.
Besides being wildly creative, Peris were also prolific. A Peri female was capable of having one baby a year for 280 years out of a normal 320-year lifespan. That’s how you end up with baby names like, “Another Danged Boy Number 152” whom I may talk about later in this epic tale.
A second main form of Djinnistani Freak is the Winged Djinn race of humanoids with hollow bones and avian wings. These people are capable of extra-vehicular flight within the atmosphere, creating slaves capable of reaching all sorts of difficult-to-reach places on jungle planets, mountainous regions, and extra-large air spaces aboard some of the largest cargo cruisers in space.
These winged beings were the most numerous peoples residing on Houris, Pan, and Eblis. They were second only to the Peris on Djinnistan, and even the third most common residents of the magma-filled world of Surtur.
The hulking and sulfurous Afrits were a unique race designed to have fire-breathing capabilities. They were not blessed with high intelligence, but they made excellent warriors, and even better artillery pieces. They were capable of vomiting napalm-like material from their own stomachs as far as half a mile away with deadly accuracy. They were also fire-proof enough to survive a direct hit from a plasma rifle fifty percent of the time. Of course, they were most common on Surtur, but found on all the worlds of the Djinnistan System.
So, this was the planetary system that Arkin Cloudstalker, Black Fly, and Lazerstone came to in order to invade, with just the three of them to conquer the entire star system.
Once again I am running a free book promotion. Fools and Their Toys is a comedy YA novel about an autistic man who learns to communicate only through a Zebra sock puppet that he uses in his ventriloquist’s act. But even though there are a lot of comedy moments about this fool, his favorite toy, and his child-friends, it is also a murder mystery as the Teddy Bear Killer continues to prey upon young boys. There are some extremely un-funny things in this tale, a story narrated by the zebra sock puppet through his unique point of view. There are numerous emotional responses I am trying to get beyond mere laughter. Sadness, grief, fear, horror, revulsion, doubt, and bewilderment are all supposed to be represented here. And this story does not unfold in sequential time order, Murray the ventriloquist’s mind does not work like that.
And that is what leads to today’s basic topic; What does it mean to claim you are a humor writer?
I have also just completed A Field Guide to Fauns. This is a novel about nudists, so there are a lot of naked people in it. The main character, who is the narrator, is a fifteen-year-old boy who is trying to recover from both a suicide attempt and the loss of the home he grew up in. He comes to live with his father and his stepmother, along with two twin stepsisters in their permanent home within the confines of a nudist park. It is a strange balance of humor, psychological horror, and melancholy.
So, I guess to understand the writing of humorous fiction the way I understand it, you have to accept the notion, “Humorous fiction is not always funny… at least, not on every single page.”
You can find precedent for that in the works of great humorist fiction writers. As funny, quirky, and essentially British as Charles Dickens is, you have to admit, there are pretty dark things happening in some of his greatest books. Oliver Twist has the childish adventures of the Artful Dodger side by side with the murderer Bill Sykes. David Copperfield contains the antics of Wilkins Micawber and the simple Mr. Dick contrasted to the evil of Murdstone, David’s stepfather, and the slimy machinations of Uriah Heep. Even his greatest masterpiece, A Tale of Two Cities, has its clowns like Jerry Cruncher, the grave robber, and Miss Pross. the governess/pugilist, and its villains like the Marquis de Evremondes, the heartless aristocrat, and Madame DeFarge, the even more heartless revolutionary.
The illustration above was the last bit of revision and editing added to A Field Guide to Fauns. It is now ready to be self-published. My writing time today, after posting this, will be devoted to publishing this book. So, soon you will be able to see what I mean about humor having its dark side.
The spaceship known as The Magic Carpet landed gracefully in the desert downport of the planet Djinnistan. But even as graceful as the landing was, clouds of sand were kicked up in all directions.
“That was a beautiful landing,” Arkin Cloudstalker said to the Black Fly. She smiled at him. She was a stunning beauty without the black mask on.
“Thank you, Captain. You see now why the argument about who flies this ship was pointless?”
“Oh, yes. In fact, when this is all over, I want to recruit you to fly with the Lady Knights.”
“Ah, you flatter me, Captain. I am apparently good enough to fly with a troop of space pirates and criminal rim-world scum.”
“You know what I mean,” he said with a laugh, rising from the copilot’s chair on the bridge.
“Captain?” Lazerstone entered the bridge. “We seem to be under siege by a hoard of children of your species.”
“Oh?” Arkin looked out the viewport and down at the monitors. Child-sized humanoids, both male and female, were everywhere. Some were placing weather-clamps on the landing gear. Others were polishing everything they could reach, and with a strange group of what appeared to be robotically animated ladders, there was no surface on the Magic Carpet they couldn’t reach, even if it meant hanging upside down. Some even seemed to be probing at electrical connections with unidentifiable tools.
“Those are Peris, one of the species of Freaks created and mass-produced on this planet.” Black Fly seemed unconcerned at what was happening to her ship.
“Do you think they might break something, or do damage?”
“No. Dr. Bludlust created them with brains more facile than any computer, and much more creative than any human being, even human beings on psychedelics.”
“They are scanning things,” said Lazerstone. “I hope you have no secrets to conceal.”
“Well, scanners don’t read minds. And the ship itself has no real secrets at this planet’s tech level anyway.”
“The point is, they must not scan me. And I can feel some very uncomfortable scanning frequencies already.”
“They can read your mind or something that way, my friend?” Arkin asked.
“No. But they could disrupt me and cause me to explode with the wrong frequency.”
“How big of an explosion?” asked Black Fly.
“Twenty thousand megatons of thermonuclear energy, depending on how many harmonic stones surround us for my death to activate.”
“That sounds like a potential problem,” Arkin said.
“I have the word of a time knight that such an event will not take place,” Black Fly calmly told them.
Three of the small Peri creatures entered the bridge at that moment. One was a boyish male, and two were childlike girls.
“Greetings, travelers. We welcome you to the enchanted planet of Djinnistan. How may we be of service to you?” said the red-haired girl Peri.
“Well, to be honest,” said the Black Fly, “We have come to liberate this planet so that it can join the New Star League.”
“Oh, that sounds very ambitious,” said the boy Peri. “You do realize that you will have to defeat the minions of Dr. Havir Bludlust, right?”
“Yes, and are you sure it is a good idea to tell these natives that we are invading?” Arkin asked Black Fly.
“Oh, of course. These are not so much natives as they are slaves. Many of them not happy with how they were created, exploited, and abused. We will be calling them our army soon enough.”
Outpost was abuzz with activity. The airless world had only limited defense from attack. The primary protection had always been the secret of its location. As an airless world, the surface could easily be lasered or bombarded with no atmosphere to interfere with the destructive force. Tron had ordered the mirror fields raised, hoping that some laser fire could be reflected back into the surrounding darkness. He knew, however, that the only hope he had was in his fleet. If they could somehow destroy enough of Admiral Tang’s fleet to make him feel the losses were no longer worthwhile, then maybe the groundside installations could survive intact.
There were still very talented corsairs able to fly fighting ships. Elvis the Cruel and Apache Scout were both peerless star warriors. But Tron had to believe that Admiral Tang had a few potent killers left to his name too. There was every chance that the situation was hopeless and would end in massacre.
Still, there were a few unknowns on Tron Blastarr’s side. The crazy alien star ship known as the Megadeath was the most agile killing machine that Tron had ever seen. The goofball rock-and-roll crew that flew it for Trav Dalgoda was now very adept at handling the alien thing, and Tron had kept them to help in his mad last stand. They were not smart enough to be scared of the upcoming battle.
He was able to send his son onward to Ged Aero on the unknown planet Gaijin, where little Artran would be safe and well-cared-for long after Tron and Maggie’s bones littered the airless sands of Outpost. He had put Artran on the scout ship himself with the somewhat strange courier that had come with the ship from Don’t Go Here. This Bill the Postman really worried Tron. The man was not entirely right in the head somehow.
“Boss,” said Hassan the Elf, breaking Tron’s train of thought, “I have made something that I think might be of help.”
Tron looked at the child-like Peri and the invention he was now holding up. “A suit of armor?”
“Yes, boss. A special kind of suit of armor. It is made up of nanites.”
“What? Nanites?”
“Yes, microscopic robots that share a command pulse and can reform themselves into any sort of armor that might be needed.”
Tron looked quizzically at the bluish suit of nanite armor. “How do you make it work?”
“Well… for instance, if you want it to form an anti-grav pack on the back, you just say FLIGHT-PACK.” The suit rearranged itself at Hassan’s command, and an anti-gravity flight-pack instantly took shape on the back side of the armor’s breastplate.
“Does it have weapons?”
“FUSION-GUN!” said the elf with a grin. A man-portable fusion generator and its discharge-barrel formed on the pauldron.
“That’s really good, Elf. That will help. But one isn’t going to be enough to save us.”
“Oh, that’s the best part,” said the Peri. “Nanites can replicate themselves from raw metal ore. Since the planet is mostly metal and crystal, we can set them to making a million copies of themselves in an hour. You have to specify the number, though. We wouldn’t want the little buggers transforming the entire planet.”
“Amazing,” sighed Tron. “If only I had a million commandos to fill them with.”
At that moment Maggie came trotting up to him with a handheld communicator. “The call is for you,” she said, looking grim. “Arkin Cloudstalker has found some allies to help us fight. He says he will visit one more planet and then be on his way to this system. Admiral Tang is sure to follow.”
“Yes. Sure to follow,” said Tron automatically, still gazing at the grinning elf and his newest invention.
Last night I reached the climax of the novel, A Field Guide to Fauns. I pulled the scene off in a way that made me cry and feel like a part of my soul had been pulled out through my nose. But a critical question remains to be answered. Does it matter to the reader as much as it does to me?
The climax occurs after a group of four characters participate in a Chicken Dance, and the critical conflict is resolved by talking about the past.
Devon Martinez as he appears in A Field Guide to Fauns.
Probably not the most cinematic approach I could have used.
But this is not a cinematic story. It is introspective. It grapples with chronic child abuse and suicidal depression. It deals with recovery from a seriously traumatic event. And it is set in a nudist park featuring characters who are trying to rebuild families after divorce.
Can I leave it like it currently is? Knowing me, I probably will. It is an essential sort of story that I need to write because of who I am, who I was before, and where I am trying to be. I don’t write for anybody else but me. But I do hope others will read it. I will, in fact, continue to coerce family members and friends who are not sick of my story-telling (if such rare creatures still exist) to read it and make faces afterwards. And I firmly believe it is well-written, but it is a well-written, introspective and highly metaphorical novel. How many people do I know, after all, that read and enjoy Marcel Proust or William Faulkner or Saul Bellow? (I myself have only read multiple books from two of those three, and that because I can’t read French to get the book in its original language),
Starlord and Spiderman as they appear as blue elves in Onward, the Pixar movie.
Last night I watched what I thought was a marvelous movie on Disney Plus. And the truth is, the gut-punching climax of that movie happens when the main character is reviewing his to-do list while sitting on a rock. So, it is not only me who sometimes soft-peddles the critical steps in a story plot.
In truth, then, the next critical step for me will be to finish the falling action of the novel, carefully re-read and edit the manuscript, and then publish it. The novel will be done soon.
Time is probably running out for me. I am too susceptible to this pandemic, and I am living in a Red State where they didn’t take social distancing seriously until Tuesday of this week.
But I have been living one day at a time for six years now. I have already lived longer and written more novels than I ever expected to since the beginning of my health crisis in the year 2000.
Still, I am now adding almost a thousand words a day to one novel or another. With A Field Guide to Fauns, I am currently on page 100 and at about 28,000 words of a planned 35,000. I reached crisis point one of three planned for the plot.
I have to admit that several surprises have added themselves to this story. When a novel comes to life like this one has, it often surprises you with directions you never expected it to take. Hence the family trip to Fiesta Texas and Mandy’s inexplicable love of Selena and dancing the Cumbia.
Just a reminder, if you haven’t been following my sporadic narration of the writing of this novel, the Field Guide is set primarily in a nudist park in Texas, and it is about a boy who is forced to become a nudist, and at the same time confronting the naked truth about himself. This novel will be done before the quarantine is over. Hopefully also before I get sick and die.
I will be ready to take up The Wizard in His Keep soon after it is done.
Plus, I have been working hard on the rewrite of AeroQuest 3 : Juggling Planets.
Juggling Planets now stands at about 20,000 words and 82 pages.
I will try to finish both that and AeroQuest 4 : The Amazing Aero Brothers before I breathe my last. (Though possibly not writing my last. Remember, I plan on getting a job as a ghost writer after I am dead.)
If I have time after all that, I have an idea ready to go for Kingdoms Under the Earth, my graphic novel, Hidden Kingdom, and a rewrite of my ghost story, Monstro.
I am doing my best to write as much as I can before the end.
Catch a Falling Star 