Do you have to be a geek to enjoy science fiction?
Is there a stigma to the genre?
Is the news right? Is the geek economy in turmoil (at least I think that’s what the newsreader said?)
My hair is neither lank or dyed black, I even wash occasionally – yet I have chosen to write a science fiction book.
It chose me.
The story and characters emerged and told me where they needed to live, and when.
They told me to forget any illusions of literary credit or note, credibility or ease of marketing. They flew me to a saturated market and kicked me out of the zeppelin.
In short, they screwed me over.
I have exacted my revenge by putting them all through the wringer, I’ve killed a few of them off. Maimed them. Dangled a love interest to get their hopes up, then dashed them on the rocks of hubris.
(And let me tell you, dangling a love interest can often get you into trouble!)
With them all put to rights, I am hoping to soon stop cringing when I talk of the genre of my book. To quell any embarrassment or misplaced concern…and if I can’t?
Well I can always hop into a time machine, onto a dinosaur, into a black hole or bestride a BMX with a hoodie wearing telephone addict and escape.
I mean any escape is good, right?
I attended a training session the other day.
Going around the room clockwise, we had to announce our names and say a little about ourselves.
When it got to my turn I said:
I am Groot.
Can you help solve this child’s conundrum?
My daughter (Matilda, who is 5) was playing a sequencing app on her tablet.
You know the kind, the first picture was of a baby, the second a child, the third of an adult and my daughter easily placed them in order.
The next was a triangle, square and pentagon – a little more difficult, but I got there eventually.
The third one bemused me. Truly.
It was of an egg, a chick and a chicken!!!
I mean…..c’mon! Like a five year old can solve a riddle that has puzzled the human race since before sun dials began!
Surefootedly (or surefingeredly?) she tapped in her best guess. Egg. Chick. Chicken…Hmmm, I’m not so sure…
We enter our lives upside down and should leave it the same way: so that our pockets may be emptied, our heads full and so that our inverted frown may be our last smiling goodbye to the world.
I have had the pleasure of my nieces coming over to stay with us for the last couple of days.
They are lovely and have educated me.
I now have a doctorate in Histrionics.
At a services halfway up the A1 somewhere near Doncaster, there was an advert on the men’s toilet wall that read;
“1 in 5 men suffer with premature ejaculation.”
Surely it’s the women who suffer isn’t it?
Though I wouldn’t know…
…I’m normally asleep by then.
Why do people with convertibles not put the top of their car down on a sunny day?
Isn’t that defeating the point of owning one in the first place?
Isn’t that like carrying but not opening an umbrella in the rain?
Isn’t that like having the internet but not writing meaningless crap all over it?