I recently shared a bunch of old maps from my journeyman days, and briefly made mention of Tusk, the infamous “telepathic elephants enslave mankind” novel. The ultimate trunk-story, as it were. Poking around in these old folders, I also found an old amateur moment, shared here for your amusement. Yes, I invented a language for my elephant race. Not only that, a complex numeric system, and methods and devices for them to write, trunks being less nimble than human fingers. From memory, I spent WEEKS on this. Again, a great example of how too much time down the rabbit-hole of Research is not necessarily a good thing.
This sort of thing is best left to the experts. Namely, professors in Language and Literature. If Tolkien saw the following attempt at inventing a written fantasy language, he’d probably roll around in his grave: (more…)
As mentioned previously, I wrote a new zombie story for Chuck McKenzie’s zombietastic Necroscope blog, called “Goodnights to Heaven”. The goal was to come up with a christmas-themed tale of the undead, the result of which can be read at this link:
May you all have a relaxing Christmas, and it is my sincerest wish that your barricades hold off the corpse hordes long enough for you to enjoy a pudding and a brandy 🙂
An annual experience. Used when Jason Fischer draws your name out of the hat for the office Secret Santa, and leaves it to the very VERY last minute to dash out and purchase the required gift. Attempts to disguise himself as the secret santa are instantly detected (like the time he bought everything in fluffy pink, so the recipient would think their secret santa was a female). He does this every year without fail.
I had recent cause to pore through my story-trunk, which is almost always a cringe-worthy exercise, followed by the opportunity to have a good laugh at my past self. For those unfamiliar with the term, a story-trunk is the repository of one’s failed writings, the term dating back to the time when the aspiring writer most likely had an actual chest or locker, stuffed full of bound manuscripts, rejection slips and gallons of tears. Sometimes this would be the bottom drawer, a tea chest in the shed, or a cobweb-wreathed filing cabinet. These days, the story-trunk is usually a folder on one’s hard-drive, an innocuous icon hiding a multitude of writing sins.
Prior to my recent incarnation as a short-story writer, I had any number of practice novels under my belt. And ye GODS, these things are bloody awful. Sigh. Still, we all gotta start somewhere, and I was well on my way to “write a million words before you stop sucking” by about 2005 or so. I look fondly on these books, as if they were a dodgy uncle at a family BBQ – they’re embarrassing, but at the end of the day they’re still family. No regrets, dudes.
In amongst my newbie fantasy novels are a whole swag of maps, lovingly adorned with various details. Because if you’re gonna suckle from Tolkien’s teat, you may as well indulge in some amateur cartography. I’ve included some for your amusement:
Around about the time I discovered Terry Pratchett, I decided that humorous fantasy was definitely my thing. Hence, the Woven World, a Pratchett-esque world springing from the knitting needles of the oblivious Aunt Gladys, aka God. I remember the mystical kingdom of Strailyer, famous for its chain-mail wearing bogans, hurling boomerangs and beer-cans at their foes. Glorious. My main protagonist was Chronick the Teutonic, wielder of the disastrous Scheissenhammer.
Here’s some more classics from ye olde story-trunk:
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