I had a feeling I could be someone

If this whole Data Entry King thing goes wrong I think I will become a sci-fi writer. I know, it would be a step down in the social hierarchy and considerably more tedious but there is the large benefit that it is the only job in the world that requires less brain-work than data entry.

I know that there have been very good writers who have played in the sandpit of sci-fi/fantasy. But that is what those great writers were doing- making sandcastles because they got tired of building pyramids and sky-scrapers and football stadiums with retractable roofs. In their spare time they dug holes in the ground and it was welcome relief.

That doesn’t take away from the fact that the genre is filled with turgid turd poo as a general rule. Pornography is sex for sex’s sake (without any of the context that gives sex meaning or worth) in the same way that sci-fi/fantasy is writing for writing’s sake.

I actually think I could write a great sci-fi and then retire to a castle high above sea level in Colorado and become an enigma; the writing-porn equivalent to Salinger. Or like a character in a Philip K Dick novel.

But that isn’t really saying anything because fifteen minutes looking at the sci-fi fantasy shelf in your local bookshop will give you your plot. You could do it! Even you, you terminal loser.

Firstly, you need a decent but shy country boy who is very good at the arcane art of stick fighting. However, you can’t call it fighting. Instead, it is stick-haedling. He wears a cloak and he might have a cat who weirds people out because he maintains eye contact much longer than a cat ought to.

Glass-eyed Pete, the mechanic, is your hero’s best friend and mentor and gave him a job at his garage. After school one day, just as he turns up to work, your hero sees the assistant mechanic, Odd Crotchless Sam, grow wings with talons on the end of them, gurgle some Aramaic words and then murderise Pete gruesomely. Describe the gore at length.

Once your hero gets home, the cat should turn into a beautiful, buxom, purple haired witch student from the past and she should grab him without explanation and take him through a time portal created by the Magik Crystals of Derrynavail. Her name can be, say, Rhondwernia. She explains that there is a dreadful battle for control of the past lands of Landrailia and that hero-boy holds the key to success for the forces of Light allied under Wizard Cowboy Tor-Hosveidt.

And so the book writes itself. There should be natural forces, (lightning, earthquakes, that kind of lark) a Native American who doesn’t say a lot and maybe some subplot to do with the introduction of technology (which is evil) into Landailia. The ending should involve the twist that hero boy succeeds in his quest but he was duped into fighting for the wrong side all along and so that sets up a sequel, maybe even a series.

Maybe I won’t write this book. You can take the idea and make a fortune on it. Instead I will get funding from the government and study what makes seemingly reasonable people enjoy Terry Pratchett and his one-joke books. Its just a hunch but I think it is Foetal Alcohol Syndrome. If any readers suffer from sci-fi/fantasy reading habits, comment or email me, letting me know if your mothers drank while pregnant. Don’t worry, I won’t judge you for reading the turd poo. At least as long as you have a good reason like Foetal Alcohol Syndrome.

Your Correspondent, No Longer The Master Of His Emotions.

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