now the only question we should be asking ourselves is- how can you go to a graduation party in november?
Please, don't ask yourself that. it's just a story. :)

SAM

It was a cold dark night. I know- this is pretty close to the cliché “It was a dark and stormy night,” but it WAS a cold and dark night.
November in Oklahoma is like that, the wind chill drops what you perceive as the temperature ridiculously low and you’re left, shuddering, wishing you HAD brought that big, fluffy jacket with you.
Anyway, I left the jacket in my closet, which was a mistake. Now I’m wishing I had it, as the November wind shears at my arms in an attempt to cut all of my standing-straight-up arm hairs off.
This is hot chocolate weather, not “my car broke down and now I have to walk to a pay phone to call my girlfriend because we were supposed to be at a party and oh she’s going to be mad at me” weather.
Unfortunately, that’s what it was, now. I’m walking towards Hastings, hoping to use one of their pay phones, with my car laying on its side off the road, steam rising and a pool of red fluid congealing under it.
No… it’s not that bad. The car looks fine, it just won’t start. I wish it were that bad, it’d give me some defense against a screaming girlfriend.
I sigh, no use muttering about it to myself now. Why didn’t I bring my cell phone? What kind of an idiot doesn’t carry a cell phone around these days? (Actually, I hate cell phones, but it’s times like this when I begin to see how useful they are.)
Hastings is closing as I run up to the doors, it’s really that late. Somebody (me) is going to have an obituary in the paper tommorow.
A guy maybe a little older than me is shutting the door. "Wait!” I yell. “I need to use your payphone, please! My car broke down.”
The man hesitates for a moment, and turns around to look at me. One of those looks pass between us, like when you see someone you recognize- a fellow compatriot of whatever group you’re in.
“Okay. Make it fast, I have a party to go to.”
I almost do a double take, but instead I just stop. “Really?? Me, too! Who’s party?”
“Oh, this girl I know, Jen, is throwing a graduation party.”
I’m not sure if fate is smiling on me or not, but I can hope. “Ferguson?” I ask. Please, let it be Ferguson. The last thing I need is the angry girlfriend figure on my case.
He grins. “Yeah. Did you go to NHS?”
I nod. “Yeah. You must have gone to North, because I don’t recognize you.”
He nods back, and it’s like we’re buddies all of a sudden. We have something- someone, in common. It’s amazing how that works.
“Hey, come’on, I’ll give you a lift over there.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Relief- tangible, and for a second, the air seems to give up its mindless pursuit of relieving me of all my arm hair.
He’s driving a car like mine- You know the typical high school/college car- your parents decided to get a new one and give you the old beater. It’s not the same model, but they might be first cousins.
He opens the driver’s side, unlocks the passenger door, I hop in. Fast, out of the wind. It howls against the window for a moment, it’s chasing me. Then it stops, as if to say, “allright, you’ve won for now. But ONLY for now.”
I mutter something under my breath and my new friend says “What?”
I say, “Oh, nothing. Just the wind.”
He laughs. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad out there.”
“You know, I never caught your name,” I say.
“Andrew.” He holds out his hand, and I shake it.
“Simon,” I say. Thankfully, he just nods. Some people seem to think that it’s their god-given duty to crack a “Simon says” joke, and it’s all downhill from there.
The drive over to Jen’s is pretty quiet, I’m worrying about my car, and my new friend seems to be lost in his own thoughts.
Jen lives in a little Cul-de-sac, and by the time we get there, it’s totally packed. Cars are packed halfway up on the lawns. I have to wonder what the neighbors think, and what kind of a party this really is. It’s not as loud as I expected it to be, but I’m pretty sure that one of Jen’s neighbors is around eighty and I’m surprised there’s not an ambulance or a police car around. In my experience, the older generations tend to freak out when there’s a party like this one looks going on. (On reflection, that’s probably partially because they KNOW what they did when they were young, and don’t want to think about it anymore.)
There are a couple guys sitting on the porch, smoking cigarettes. My dad smokes, and I can’t stand it. It’s even more disgusting in kids my age, cancer at 35 and then death shortly thereafter doesn’t sound very fun.
“Hey, man! What’s up!” One of the guys on the porch- Both of them are skater-type, backwards hat, lots of hair sticking out from it, barely tied Vans, Hurley/Toy Machine shirts. The one who spoke looks, and sounds, drunk. Again, I’m surprised no one has called the police yet, or had a heart attack.
Andrew and I nod our welcome to him, but he’s not really paying attention anymore. He’s taking a long drag on his cigarette, sucking it down to nothing. I can almost see his life leaving in the cloud of smoke, but maybe it’s just my imagination.
We walk in, and it’s much louder once you get inside the house. People everywhere. Everywhere.
I’m looking around desperately, hoping NOT to see Nancy. I know she’ll be pissed, and if only I can find enough of her friends first and tell them the sad story-
No such luck. There she is, she’s been watching for me. I can tell, she has that hunting look on.
Now I’m done for.
I slap my forehead, and Andrew catches both that, and Nancy’s oncoming stare.
“That your girlfriend?” he asks.
I nod and mumble something that sounds like an approximation to the word “yes.”
“If you need someone to save you later…”
I nod my thanks, and he walks off into the crowd, mingling. There are enough people here to fill 10 slug bugs clown-style, I think to myself.
My mind is kind of zoning out, I can see Nancy approaching, and half of me wants to run. She sees the panic in my eyes, and pins me to my spot with a glare that would probably curdle milk if there were any around.
“Simon! Simon! Why are you late, Simon!” She draws my name out in a whine, and I cringe. I’m glad Jen doesn’t have any dogs, the last thing we need is dogs barking in response to the pitch of her voice.
“Nancy! I wanted to call--”
“Simon! You are twenty minutes late! Twenty Minutes! And I promised the others you’d have been here early!”
A small crowd is gathering, It looks like someone is taking down bets as to how badly she’s going to embarrass me this time. I feel a blush coming on, and do my best to stifle it.
“Nance, my car broke down, and Andrew ended up giving me a ride here.”
You’d think she’d quiet a little bit after hearing this information, but not Nancy, no. SHE gets louder.
“Your car broke down! And you didn’t call me? I could have come and picked you up! Why didn’t you call me!” Her voice is really hurt now.
I HATE it when people (women) use the utter concern for one’s safety or well being as a means to utterly humiliate you.
“and I forgot my cell phone,” I add lamely.
I can almost see a tear forming at the corner of her eye, now.
“Simon, I just can’t believe this! I can’t!”
“I’m sorry,” I say weakly.Now she’s gone all hot and angry, the oven warming up to broil with your hand stuck in the door (Look, I’m sure SOMEONE has managed to do it, okay?).
“I’m going to go and talk to Jen! You can find me later!”
Some people off on the sidelines really snicker at that one, and now I do blush. I can feel it washing up my cheeks, even my ears feel hot. Now it’s genuine laughter. They’re handing out the money now, someone has won something on my embarrassment.
Nancy is rushing off, presumably to talk to Jen. I let my flush die down a bit, and wait for everyone to turn back around to their other business, and then I make my way towards a table covered with drinks. I’m hoping the punch is spiked, and I pour a large glass of it for myself.
“Hey! You’re Simon Carrey, aren’t you?”
I don’t recognize the voice, and prepare myself for one of Nance’s friends. I turn around, taking huge gulps of the punch in the process. It’s spiked, allright. “That’s me, I’m afraid,” I say.
There’s a girl with blonde hair standing there, shorter than I am by a foot. She has a slightly vacant, yet very excited look in her eyes. “You’re a writer, aren’t you? I’ve read some of yourself in the School Compilation!”
My brain seems to be freezing up a bit. I expected one thing, and get something totally different. Nobody gets recognized for something they wrote in a crappy anthology in high school.
“I guess I am,” I say. Before I can even finish the last word, She cuts in with a squeal, “You must be SOOO creative! I want to be a writer, too!” The words come out in a messy gush, and manage to splash all over my shoes. I look down momentarily, and at least four people near me wince. I know that’s going to smell if I don’t scrape it off, so I frantically scrape the top of one shoe with the bottom of the other while she squeals something else.
“What did you say?” I manage out. Probably a mistake.
“I’m going to go to the Kansas Art institute!” she squeals. I stop my scraping momentarily, and put a finger in my ear to clear the canal. It doesn’t help much. Frantically I gulp more punch and say “that’s great!” and try to stumble past her.
She squeals something else, and a general angry murmur arises from her location. I’m getting away as fast as I can, I don’t want to be part of the onslaught.
I stumble out onto the porch, it’s the only quiet place left. The two guys are still out on the porch, and I almost expect to see one or two of Jen’s neighbors throwing themselves out of their second-story windows at any second.
“Dude! Where did you come from!” The second skater is the one speaking, and by the way he’s carefully enunciating his words, I can tell he’s at the least drunk.
“From the inside,” I say. I drink a little more punch, this time more slowly.
“Dude!” he says. “That’s fuckin’ neat!” He begins to giggle, and turns to his friend.
“Don’t you think that’s fuckin’ neat, man?” He collapses into a laughing fit, and I wonder if ANYWHERE is safe.
“Man,” His friend agrees, taking a long drag on ANOTHER cigarette. Just then the wind decides to resume its mad attack against me, and a strong gust blows the smoke right into my face. I begin to cough, and barely manage to save my drink from spilling. “Excuse me,” I cough out in a whisper. I turn and pull the door open.
The carnage around the punch bowl has cleared with little or no mess, so I glance both ways, and quickly hurry over there.
This time, fate decides to let me win the round, and nobody comes up to me while I’m filling my cup.
I’m feeling a bit better now, and I wonder if I shouldn’t wander off and find Nance now.
Of course, fate couldn’t let me win forever. Sam is guarding the hallway, and looks up from the ground with his cat eyes. I moan, and try to step over him.
YOOOOWWWLLL! Sam’s diving for my foot, and now I’m off balance, halfway through a step. I try to pull back, but I’m not fast enough. Sam contacts my foot and-
Apparently there’s still some of that disgusting gush on my shoe, because Sam immediately YOWWLS again and rushes off to the corner where he proceeds to lick his paws and glare at me. I should be a nervous mess, but I’m starting to feel the alcohol, now.
I manage to get through the hall from the kitchen into one of the living rooms without too many more problems. Nancy is watching for me again, her eyes are all sharp edges. They seem to soften a tiny bit when they see me, and I try to rearrange my face to look like something of a smile.
“At least you came in here,” Nance says. She seems slightly reproachful, but it looks like she’s forgiven me.
I grin, and walk over to where she is. I’m walking carefully now, Gotta make sure not to trip.
The couch is apparently closer than it looks, because I manage to jar myself as I sit down. The drink begins to slosh over on one side, so I move my cup at an angle and with a jerk, catching the liquid. That just causes it to go the other way, so I jerk back the other way. It starts to jerk the other way again. I can figure this out, I think to myself. How hard can this be? After a couple more movements, I get my drink in the cup without losing any. I look up, and realize that everyone is staring at me, again. My grin of satisfaction quickly fades, and disappears entirely. Nance looks at me disapprovingly again. “Would you stop clowning?” she says.
“But Nance-” I start to say- but she interrupts me. “Don’t worry about it, just stop.”
“But I wasn’t clowni-”
She cuts me off totally this time, and digs some nails into my arm. “Anyway, as I was saying, Since my dad works at OU, I can get a discount!” Everyone nods amiably, and then Jen turns towards me from the other couch. “So, How have you been? I’m sorry about your car.”
“It’s okay,” I say agreeably. “I’ve been okay. The punch is good.” That one gets me a jab in the ribs from Nance, who apparently doesn’t approve of the punch. I’m not sure I care that much anymore, sometime between the hall and sitting down my brain decided it’s all going to be alright.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Jen says. “How does it feel to be free?”
“Be free?” I say. “But I’m still under the yoke of---”
“She means High School,” one of her friends cuts in quickly.
“Oh.” I consider momentarily. “Nothing really changed, I think. I don’t feel different.”
Jen nods, and then goes back into conversation with her friends and Nance. I just sit and listen for a while, and then get up to use the bathroom. Nance doesn’t even give me a second glance as I carefully step around the couch and back towards the hall.
Sam’s in the hall again, tail lashing. It’s been at least thirty minutes; he’s been waiting for me. Yowwwwl! He says. ”God dammit, cat,” I say, “leemme alone!” I start running down the hall, Sam starts running down the hall, I think we’ve both had enough, and now we’re going to end it in one huge ball of destuction. Right as Sam’s claws contact my foot, I let loose a powerful kick that sends him flying into-
Well, that’s not exactly how it happened. I’d like to think it ended that way, but Sam dives straight into my feet with a satisfied Yoowll! that sounds like a cry of triumph, and I oof as the floor comes up quickly to meet me.
Fortunately, Sam apparently has either had enough or thinks he’s won, because he doesn’t attack me again after that. I hate cats.
After a minute I think I might see someone standing above me. I open my eyes a bit more, sure enough, there’s Andrew. He’s grinning down at me in a way that implies camaraderie again, not condescension, like I might have expected in this situation.
“Want a hand up?” He says.
I consider it for a moment. It can’t get any worse from here, can it? “Sure,” I say.

In 1516 Thomas More published a book called A Fruteful and Pleasant Worke on the Best State of a Publyque Weale, and of the new yle, called Utopia. Now we just call it Utopia- and it described a perfect society in which everyone was happy.
The word Utopia is now part of the English language, it means “a perfect society,” but the actual word (its greek parts) does not mean that. It comes from the Greek roots “ou,” meaning not, and “topos,” meaning place. Hence, outopos (yew-topos) or in English, Utopia.
More named his perfect society Utopia because he acknowledged that such a place does not exist; and perhaps, cannot exist.
However, it is slightly amusing that there is another greek prefix- “Eu,” which means good. Since A Utopian Society is literally perfect, it would be a “good place.” My only question is this- did he decide to use those specific prefixes BECAUSE they sounded so similar?After the word Utopia was coined, someone came up with Dystopia- that’s a bad place. “Dys” is greek for bad or dysfunctional, and a dystopia is simply a totally flawed society.

"The Result is that, at present, when there are a great many writers attempting to scale the mountside of science fiction, it must be rather annoying for them to see the peak occupied by elderly has-beens who cling to it with their arthritic paws and simply won't get off. Even death, it seems, won't stop us, since Heinlein has already published a posthumous book and reissues of his old novels are in the works."

Isaac Asimov (on writing), Gold

here's a link to the short story- read it if you get a chance. sorry- the format isn't the best- I didn't post it here, mind you- (maybe I will!) but it's readable enough. Enjoy!

I just read "all you zombies," a short story by Robert Heinlein. aaaackk... it gives me a headache even thinking about the sheer paradox that the entire story IS.

I sighed, and took a deep breath to center myself. "Margaret, she called me to bitch about being grounded. She's a very pissed young woman."
"You're taking her side?" Her voice was escalating. Any moment now, dogs all over San Francisco would start howling in response.



My words felt dry, tasting of copper. "I don't turn on the news at home."
"You missed a shitload. That BMW you spotted turned up at an intersection in Hough. A squad of SPU elves called in the plates. Mix in a liberal does of 'allegedly' and 'according to the police,' and you have a fucking massacre that looks like the end of Bonnie and Clyde."

The Dragons of the Cuyahoga- S. Andrew Swann.


He just has some descriptions- in several other books, too, that crack me up. He's a good writer. Check it out.

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.


-William Carlos Williams

So simple- yet, I find it beautiful.

Ben and I had a discussion on poetry earlier. I have written many poems- and written down my ideas on them. Poetry is something that's always hard to judge. it's good, or it isn't. it's inspiring to one and not others.....

Just wanted to post that, anyway. hope everyone is having a good night.

best online dictionary someone else has found

I'm going to have to name a cat catalyst.


(sounds of hissing and growling can be heard)
"I wouldn't touch that, if I were you."
"Why not? It's just a cat."
"Because that's catalyst. he tends to start a violent reaction with anything he comes into contact with."



We can't forget about Cataclysm, Cataphract, and Catapult, now can we?

writer quotes

"Conmen work by getting you to swallow the hook a little at a time; first you are led to believe a small improbability, then are a series of increasingly improbable complications, until you finally believe something so preposterous that afterward you cannot fathom your own foolishness. My writer friend Snaker says the only difference between a writer and a conman is the writer has better hours, works at home, and can use his real name if it suits him."

-Spider Robinson

A chapter that doesn't fit yet- a lesson in history

...."Does anyone know why Etheris fell so easily?" Lorris was asking. One of the other students, a blonde fellow that at least tried to pay some attention to our instructor, raised his hand. "You just said it was because Culpent had the steam engine," he said.
It annoyed me that none of my classmates seemed to say anything original, just repeating the teachers' words back to them. He wanted us to think for ourselves- we were here to learn.
I frowned at his words, things weren't ever that simple. There was always some underlying thing that caused a fall- like a building. If you put damage to important places within the structure, a good shove of some sort will knock it over. At first appearance, it's simply the fault of whatever shoved, but when you look deeper, you can see that it's really those underlying cracks.
Lorris shook his head. "Part of it," he said. "Anyone know the major reasons?" his eyes raked over the class critically, but no one spoke. His eyes landed on me, and stopped moving. "How about you," he asked me.
"I'd venture a guess, anyway," I started. "Didn't Culpent conquer most of the surrounding territories, first?"
Lorris nodded. "That's correct, Culpent managed to conquer most of its neighbors before it attacked Etheris. But what does that have to do with it?"
The class felt antsy, they were ready to go, restless, like stirring, mindless drones. Lorris ignored the people who weren't paying attention, addressing those of us who were listening to him.
I liked that about Lorris, he answered us with more questions, challenging us to think about the way things were. Anybody can be a teacher, it doesn't take much to recite out of a book. But a good teacher is the one that makes you think, instead of just recite things until you have them memorized. A good teacher makes you want to go out and learn on your own, Find out the why that there is behind everything.
"Etheris probably thought that Culpent wasn't their problem," I said. "They didn't seem to be a threat at first, and by the time Etheris realized that they were, it was too late- Culpent was too strong to stop, and Etheris fell."
Lorris nodded at me. "That's correct, as well," he said. "But those aren't the only reasons. I want everyone to remember what our young friend has said, and on Ondii there will be an in-class essay over the matter. I want all the possible reasons that Etheris fell as easily as it did laid out." He gestured at the door of the classroom, an oak door that didn't fit the gray walls surrounding it. "Dismissed," he said.
I could immediately think of several other reasons that Etheris may have fallen, but I wanted to talk to Lorris about them.
The rest of the class filed out mindlessly, whispering amongst themselves like candles in the wind. I could feel them, a white noise of bees, moving past me.
"Heard... party on Fendii," a big guy that I recognized from my Laws class said.
"Brothers... always through a good party," the blonde fellow who had spoken up earlier said.
"Think... nameless'll come?" I felt the big guy twitch his head at me, but I wasn't facing him, so the sensation brushed over my shoulder and into the emptying classroom.
"Careful... can probably hear us," the other replied.
I pretended not to pay attention, and made my way towards the small, cluttered desk set up at the front of the class. I didn't fit in- as easily as I knew that, so did everyone else, and the talking didn't bug me.
Lorris had expected me to come to the front- He knew that I would just like I knew that he was pleased that I had come to his desk. He looked up from his notebook, closing it and casually pushing it aside, onto a pile of notes and tests from another class.
He had sharp, piercing eyes, the kind of eyes a hawk will stare into your face with, not that I had ever seen a hawk up that close. They were a plain brown, but had such intensity it was very clear that their owner was aware of your existence.
"You listen, unlike most of them," he said. He shook his head ruefully, autumn leaves falling off a tree. "Not many of us learn from the mistakes of the past."
I shrugged. "I don't seem to have a past," I said. "I have to find out why I'm here, what I'm supposed to do. The least I can do is be prepared for whatever it is."
"You'll be prepared if you listen enough," he said. He looked at me, his eyes trying to pin me against the air at my back. "But you had a reason to stay- a question. Not idle chitchat with an old professor."
I nodded. "Yeah. I wanted to learn more about Etheris and Culpent," I said.
His eyes let up their intangible pressure, going somewhere else, looking at things I hadn't seen. He was waiting for me to speak, To ask a question.
"Etheris..." I started, and then came to a stop, organizing the thoughts dancing in my head. "They fell because they didn't act soon enough,but what are some good reasons?"
He shrugged. "Well, what do you have to have to go to war?" He asked me.
I considered a moment. Why would anyone go to war? "A reason, a situation that warrants it," I answered, frowning. "And troops, weapons to supply the troops."
Lorris nodded sagely at me. "Yes, that's right. Many wars have been fought for little or no reason, so that is not necessarily a factor. What do you need for supplies?"
"You have to have money of some sort, resources." I answered.
He nodded again. "No matter what a ruler may claim as his or her reasons for going to war, you can lay a bet, that in many cases, it comes down to resources in some way or other." He frowned to himself, and then added, "many wars may have seemingly been fought for no good reason- There have been cases where one ruler insulted another's family- but even then, there are resources to be gained."
It was my turn to shake my head. "Why don't nations just trade with one another, instead of going to war?"
"Impatience," he answered. "Maybe they want the resources now, or maybe a nation thinks that another one is not giving it a good enough deal on something." He sighed, and it felt hollow. He had asked himself this many times before, as well. "Perhaps trading would be better for the economy of a place in the long term, but people rarely think in the long term. The majority of us only have short term goals, and by the time whatever they've done becomes a problem, it's not their problem anymore."
"I just don't get it," I said. "I don't understand how people can think that way, how they can ignore the mess they're causing on down the road."
Lorris shrugged. "It's the way people are." I knew that he had said that exact line, over and over, to lots of other people.
His eyes got sharp again, and he went back to the subject of Etheris and Culpent. "Etheris had the money to spend, but they didn't want to spend it. That, combined with a reluctance to get into a conflict that they thought didn't concern them..."
"People were dying, and they thought it didn't concern them?" When I thought about it, it felt like this was the way people were. I didn't like it, but it was true.
"If Etheris had declared hostilities on Culpent, their people would have died, perhaps even more people would have died."
"Maybe so," I said, "But maybe by acting sooner, they could have stopped unnecessary deaths. Culpent was in the wrong."
He watched me talk, almost watching my thoughts move from one shape to another. "That's more or less true, but it didn't mean that Culpent was evil, or even wrong. It just means that they did something that we now disagree with." he spread his hands, as if making an offering. "Empires have to grow."
I shook my head. "But not at the expense of those who do nothing," I said. "That's wrong."
"That's our- your- point of view. There isn't really ever true evil in the world- at least not often," he said. "We label things we disagree with as evil, to convince ourselves it's okay to kill someone or conquer some land. If we didn't, would we see a cause in fighting?"
What Lorris was saying was beginning to take a definite form- it was beginning to make a lot of sense to me. If you're able to see the other nation's point of view, if you're able to examine it, and say, "oh, I see why they're doing such-and-such," then it makes it harder to justify any action against them. But he still hadn't explained Etheris.
"So, are you saying that Etheris was right in not doing anything? Was right in letting others die, to save its own people?"
Lorris shook his head vehemently. "Far from it, history definitely says otherwise. If Etheris had acted sooner, it is likely, as you said, that less people would have died. In the end a large number of Etherans died anyway- and if they had done something, they'd still be here. From the Etheran point of view, not doing anything was a bad idea." He shrugged and continued. "It's a hard call, trying to decide when the costs of a war are outweighed by what you gain. Is any system worth dying for? Some people think so- they're willing to die so that Norden will keep its way of life today."
I didn't really see a way in which losing a human life was worth it. "But the average person doesn't want to die for a system," I said.
"That's true. systems change in a war, but your average person isn't affected all that much, over all. they have a different ruler and maybe some new taxes and some old ones taken away, and maybe for a year or two things will be worse. but in the long run, not much changes for ost of us."
I agreed with that- From talking to Saryn and Finder, and seeing the soldiers in Narla, it seemed clear that not much was different for the average person anywhere. People all had their own complaints and ways of doing things, but life wasn't that much different in Norden as it was Culpent today.
"Perhaps a war is worth it if, in the end, you save more people than are lost," Lorris was saying. "Sometimes a way of life is worth fighting for, and sometimes saving enough lives to outweigh the deathtoll is enough." he looked up at me, as if to see if I were still paying attention. "Would you kill one man to save the lives of twenty?" he asked me.
I frowned. "I don't know," I said. I knew Finder probably would- it would be cost effective. Costs and benefits- gains and losses. I supposed that most of life could probably come down to this exact issue.
Lorris nodded as if I had answered the way he had expected me to. "Most of us don't," he said. "If it were a dictator, a dark mage, anything we could label as evil, you might not have a problem. Most of the time it isn't that easy, though."
I looked at Lorris, proffering his own question back to him. "What do you think? would you kill one to save twenty?"
He shrugged- the question was an easy one for him to answer, and he let me know it. "Sure," he said.
I pondered for a moment, and then rephrased it. "What if it was a family member? A loved one?" I asked.
He nodded, grinning. "You've hit on the major problem with that line of thinking. People are selfish, and often don't do things for the greater good."
Everything came together, but there were still small pieces of the puzzle scattered about somewhere for me to find. "So, Etheris wouldn't go to war because they wouldn't have been saving their own people," I said.
"Yeah. In the end it was the wrong decision because they fell anyway."
I frowned. Forgetting the greater good out of selfishness could come back and burn you, but was it always going to be that way?Would forgetting the greater good always cause a problem down the road?
"Now, I'm not saying it was ultimately bad," Lorris was continuing, "because the quality of life in Culpent is probably much better than it would be in Etheris today."
That made some sense as well, but it still didn't answer my question, it just confused it. How far down the road should you look for the greater good? I didn't think I could sacrifice Saryn, Finder, or Lira to save even a hundred people I didn't know. But if it came down to it, it seemed horrible to let more people die.
Lorris had those eyes on me again. "Heard you showed up Jervis the other day," he said.
I shrugged. I didn't think I had showed him up, but I saw how someone would think that. "Not exactly," I said.
He grinned at me widely. "Everyone says that's the way of it," he said. "Good, that's one wizard that's way too set in his ways not to be shown otherwise by a brash young upstart once in a while." He grinned for a moment more, and then the expression seemed to fade into something more serious. "I have something for you," he said. "Had it a long time." He opened a drawer of his desk, and I felt something below my consciousness whisper along the drawer's edge. He reached in to the drawer, removing a book that looked as if it had been printed yesterday. It appeared to be brown leather, and it felt much older than it looked. he held it out to me, my hand reaching for it of it's own volition. If the book had been alive it would have been regarding me, and I could feel the settled stirrings in my head begin to whisper in my thoughts.
"There aren't many of these left," he said. "Not that there were that many to begin with. I've had this copy for a long time, didn't know if I'd ever find anyone who'd be able to understand it."
My hand took the book from him, and I expected a jolt, or a feeling of unease, or any sort of strange feeling to pass from the book to me. Nothing strange happened, it was smooth, felt as if it had been handled many times before. There was no title on the spine or cover, and despite the fact that my mind was convinced it was ancient, it looked brand new.
I immediatley noticed that it didn't have any seams or stitches, the entire book, pages and all, seemed whole. it didn't feel as if it contained any sort of power like the construct in the cave had, but it didn't feel normal, either.
I opened it to the first page which said in an incredibly legible, but plain print, An Introduction to the Field." There was no publication date or author, and the pages were a material slightly dissimilar from paper.
I looked up at Lorris, my mind paying attention to the book in my hands as if it'd bite me while I examined Lorris with my eyes.
"It's as least as old of the fall, and if it's that old, it was most likely written when people then were sitting down and figuring out how things worked. It is the only complete text, hell, the only written text, on how the field works." He grinned at me. "People were terrified of things like this, and with good reason. It's possibly as dangerous as the star focus in the wrong hands. Something tells me- something makes me think that you'll need it before you're done.
Jervis read it, and didn't understand half of what is written in it. He turned it over to me, said it was useless." Lorris snorted. "Have enough field-sense to know otherwise." He met my eyes, his sharp brown eyes seizing at mine. "I read it, too. Some of it is written on theories, and principles, that we don't even teach anymore. I couldn't even understand some of it- but a lot is simple enough. After reading it, I can appreciate why people would have wanted to supress and even destroy things like this."
"Thanks..." I just hoped I could fullfill the duties that the people here seemed to think I could. I didn't understand how they could accept the fact that I had just dropped onto a hilltop somewhere, and say to themselves, He'll do something great. And I didn't understand how I was coming to the same conclusion, either. "Thanks."
Lorris didn't slap me on the back or grin, or chuckle. He just said "don't mention it," like it was nothing.

Man. I love Science Fiction.

Spider Robinson once wrote this, in the book Time Pressure-

"That's part of what I'm trying to convey. I had read science fiction since I had been old enough to read, attracted by that sense of wonder that they talk about- and read enough of it to have my sense of wonder gently abraded away over the years. People who read a lot of scifi are the least gullible, most skeptical people on earth. A longtime reader of sf will examine the flying saucer very carefully and knowledgeably for concealed wires, hidden seams, gimmicks with mirrors: he's seen them all before. Spotting a fake is child's play for him. (A tough house for a musician is a roomful of other musicians.)
On the other hand, he'll recognize a real flying saucer, and he'll waste very little time on astonishment. Rearranging his entire personal universe in the light of startlingly new data is what he does for fun. One of sf's basic axioms, first propounded by Arthur Clarke, is that 'any sufficietly advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.' Confronted with a nominally supernatural occurence, a normal person will first freeze in shock, then back away in fear. An sf reader will pause cautiously, then move closer. The normal person will hastily review a checklist of escape hatches- "I am drunk"; "I am dreaming"; "I have been drugged"; and so forth- hoping to find one which applies. the sf reader will check the same list- hoping to come up empty. But meanwhile he'll allready have begun analyzing this new puzzle-piece which the game of life has offered him. What is it good for? What are its limitations? Where does it pinch? The thing he will be most afraid of is appearing stupid in retrospect."


Spider Robinson is an incredible writer. Great story teller. I think it's funny, I've been reading sci-fi since I was old enough to read, and this is kind of the way I am. I love writing. so much. I'm never going to stop.

Influential Writers

I keep adding more writers to the list of people I'd say influenced me- but I wanted to mention a couple of authors who I think were inspirational for various reasons.

It's strange that I'm writing this, considering that I have not been published yet, and am working on my first book now. but I felt like I had to.
I had a conversation with Ben the other day about my idea of a "badass." I immediatley thought of Laurell K. Hamilton's "Edward" and Tom Clancy's "John Clark-" two of the most badass characters I've read.
There are others. Vanyel, from Lackey's Magic's Pawn/Promise/Price was a badass, because he knew how to get the job done- but he's not the... role model I'm using for one of my characters- Finder.
Finder is modeled after Edward and Clark, or so I think. I am sure that there are other people he match- but when I started wrting, he was originally modeled after Edward, and slowly, in my head, became his own character.

Edward is a- I'd call him a bounty hunter but that's not exactly right- is a hitman. In a United States where shapeshifters are real, Vampires roam around, and they all have constitutional rights, Edward kills them, if the price is right.
In the majority of Hamilton's books that include Edward, he is cold and calculating, a self-proclaimed "sociopath." In fact, he even says "It's easier being a sociopath" at one point in a book- it's easier not to care about anyone, anything.
It appears that this is true, at first- but eventually it becomes clear that somewhere beneath that sociopath there is someone who cares.

Clark, on the other hand, I see as a more passionate man. I personally believe that he got totally DEUCHED over as a character in the movie clear and present danger- but in Clancy's books his violence has an aim.
In the book that introduces Clark's background, Without Remorse, Clark's lover is killed by gang members. please forgive me if I get some of the details wrong, because it has been years since I've read the book, but he gets pretty upset and basically starts killing all the lawbreakers. he does it in a special forces/black ops kind of style, using all of his knowledge (learned in Vietnam, I believe) to kill off the majority of gang members in a city.
Allthough he is cold and calculating as well, he has a... reason for killing the gangs off- Revenge. Edward, on the other hand, does not have a clear reason for the killings he does. He's simply "good at it" and will take almost any contract, no matter who, or what, it is. In fact, he once said he turned down a contract on Anita Blake (the main character of Hamilton's world) because he knew that if he helped her out, "he'd get to kill a lot more people."

My character, Finder, has some of both these characters in him, but he's different. Unlike Edward, he values life- seeing killing one person he does not know to save one he does (or to save multiple people he does or does not know) as the right thing to do.
He kills rampant shapeshifters (I'm still working out the details of what exactly, my version of a shapechanger is) because it saves people, and he is willing to kill just about anyone threatening himself or someone he values without many second thoughts. Like both Edward and Clark, he is an expert with the weaponry of his world (which is NOT america, and in a lot of ways, is not similar to america), as well as having expert knowledge of the things he hunts.
Unlike both Edward and Clark, however, he is not "simply" human. I haven't worked out all the details, yet, but I the world I have is in a lot of ways close to Modesitt's "Recluce" or "Corean Chronicles."
I have... several different species of human, so to speak. The technology level is slightly below ours in some ways, and in some ways more advanced.
Instead of cars and highways, they have a lot of steam powered cars. They DO have petrols, but not many- they don't have the ability to drill very deep, and there simply isn't a lot of natural oil on their world.
Some places also use a gate-system, similar to the gate from Stargate, but with shorter distances (measured in miles instead of light years)- and not based on technology as we'd call it, but magic.
Magic exists- under the label of a "field" that people can manipulate. There are many things that people can do with this field (including power the gates) but most people limit themselves in what they can do, and there aren't, and haven't been, many people who can use the field.
That's one of the species of human- for the hell of it, let's call them H. Sapiens Majora, that being "normal humans," H. Sapiens Adfectus, that would be the "Shapeshifters" I have- which are pretty much normal people that the field has somehow manipulated, H. Sapiens Veneficium, that being the "sorcerous" man (or the people that can manipulate the field) and Finally, the last subspecies, there being only one of them, Saryn.
I haven't decided what to call them, or, for that matter, what the differences are, except one difference is very clear- Saryn has glowing eyes. I suppose I could say it's because after a long time, Humans start getting effected by magic on the genetic level- but I'm not sure if that's how it will end up.
Six months after starting to write, I realized that Modesitt has a character named Saryn in his book Fall of Angels. I had read Fall of Angels several years before I started writing, and it is possible that the book had some influence over her name- but I originally came up with her name from the two names "Sarah" and "Erin," two of my friends. I really like y's, so that's how it ended up.
Modesitt has probably influenced me the most- I think he is a great writer, creating very in-depth and believable worlds that are (at least to me) convincing.
My main character is the prime example of this- I keep finding myself writing him in a Modesitt-esque style- that is, a main character who seems to be lost and doesn't seem to let things bug him, and ends up getting the job through absolute confidence and plain luck. It's way more complicated, and it's fairly possible that Modesitt wouldn't agree with me on how I characterized his characters----- but that's how I read it.
However, I don't write in anyone's style- not exactly. I think every writer has to find their own style- and probably does- even if you can say "hey this is similar to (whatever)"
I find myself writing in a darker style than Modesitt, and using descriptions of things that are unnerving and unreal.
My main character doesn't have a name- he doesn't remember who he is- but he is slowly becoming something very disconnected from humanity. Basically, he's your Neo/Creslin/Alucius/Superman character (I can't currently think of more) that does something and if you were standing next to him, you just kinda gasp and say "how did you do that?" and he might reply "I don't know, I just do it" or "I didn't mean to do that at all."
Like every "good" character, he has his weaknesses. Saryn will become one soon enough, but the major one is his inability to understand what the hell he can do.
Anyway, I'm gettin' tired of writing, so I'll pick it up later and start writing some stuff that's pertinent.

Have you ever read Darwin's Radio, Helm, or The Magic of Recluce? if you haven't, take a look.

First post: the explanation.

It's almost backwards that my first post, in which I state the purpose of this site, will most-likely only be read by me or a few people= and then forgotten, as I possibly fill this page full of short stories, ACoS chapters, whatever it is I decide to put here.

I'm sure that there will be at least ONE random netsurfer (or whatever it is you want to call them) that will stumble across this and go "what. the. hell?" and just leave, or sit down and read it, not knowing what the HECK I'm talking about, or who would write all the bull that I probably will write.

anyway, on to the writing.