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This is a continuation of my blogging here at WdC |
| Novel #43 So… we now come to the next book in the Speculative Humour Cycle. 46k words and this is in the top 10 things I have ever written (in my opinion). It’s original title was Á La Recherche Du Mort Et Temps Perdu (Remembrance of Death And Times Past). Yes, I stole a Proust title… and the one editor who showed an interest asked for a title change. So the alternate title is Only Fools And Horus. The publisher liked that, but I never heard back from them after they requested a full m/s. Anyway, the idea for this story is stolen. Completely utterly and wholly stolen… at least, initially. There is a scene in Terry Pratchett’s The Colour Of Magic where Rincewind the Magician suddenly finds himself in a an aeroplane in our world. It is remarkably brief, but that one scene made my mind tick over… What if a person could move between worlds in some sort of multiverse at will? Literally three weeks later, this was finished. It started as a story where travelling was only allowed because all the alternate versions of this person were killed when he was a baby, and all this cross-world travelling pissed off the god Horus (hence the alternate title). About five chapters in, I decided I needed a romance, so he finds a girl who can do the same travel, but is not as in control as he is. Then I introduced the concept of surreality. The multiverse is ruled by the three constants – Death, Time and an unnamed one (but I know exactly who it is). There are others like Physics who are the children of Death and Time, and then there are their children before we even get to the gods themselves. The world-building was so much fun, and of the three weeks of writing, five days were spent just in me creating the world and the constants and the gods and the rules of travel. I literally did nothing else for three weeks except work on this tale. Just me, music, and a pen and paper (yes, it was all done long-hand). Work had been cancelled for a month, so this was my entire life. Here’s the pitch: “A guy can jump from world to world. He finds a girl who also can. He chases her. But the gods and constants don’t like it because he brings about surreality as he does so. Thus Horus takes it upon himself to stop these disruptors of the natural order.” It is weird and the characters are nicely written (although I do fat-shame the MC’s sister… and, no, it was not me doing the same to my own sister who had crapped all over me… okay… it was. Completely) and I like the multiverse I created. In fact, I liked it so much, for the second time ever I started a sequel, but that was put on the back-burner and remains incomplete. Excerpt They sat at a corner table under a print of that classic painting of the modern age – the four dogs playing poker, each with a beer. “Well?” his father urged with all the eagerness of an incontinent puppy. “Well?” Frank repeated stupidly. His father calmed himself with a few deep breaths and a subtle inhalation on a self-rolled, non-tobacco cigarette. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that this is the first time you’ve ever said you needed to talk to me.” He wiped away a tear of joy. The almost close to tears had tipped over the edge uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, I…” He didn’t want to come out and say the truth – that he couldn’t think of anyone else because Doug was brain-dead, Kate was obsessed with Kate, and who was it who ever spoke to their mother about something personal? – so he shrugged and pathetically finished with, “There are some things a guy needs a dad for.” If he could have bottled his father’s emotions there and then he would have made enough money to buy a fair chunk of Canada. “Go on,” the older man managed. “I’m listening.” “It’s a girl,” came out of Frank’s mouth before he could stop it. His father’s next expression and accompanying emotion would have added France to his Canadian purchase. But he forced himself to somehow appear vaguely cool, calm and collected. “Do I know her?” he asked with a choked, croaked voice. “I don’t even know her,” Frank sighed, and suddenly he wasn’t a thirty-one year old man, he was a fifteen year old kid with overactive hormonal feelings distracting his every move; that was, when he wasn’t thinking with his penis. “Huh?” It was the only response that seemed to make sense to his old man. “Okay, it’s sort of complicated,” Frank non-explained, not sure exactly what he was going to say that wouldn’t sound insane. “We keep on meeting at random times, like we were meant to be together. She knows about me as well, but every time we’ve tried to talk something gets in the way. I fell for her the moment I saw her. She’s stunning and beautiful and gorgeous and hot. I even tried going back to an old girlfriend, but I felt like I was cheating on the girl whose name I don’t know. Dad, what in the hell is wrong with me?” Frank watched such an onslaught of conflicting emotions rush over his father’s face that he was ready for an aneurysm to explode at the base of his skull. Then, instead: “I don’t think you know how your mum and I met.” He grimaced oddly and started to play with his wedding ring as if it was too tight. “We were quarantined together in the infectious diseases ward of the hospital for a few months. The reasons why don’t matter – and can’t be made public after the findings of the coronial inquiry – but we’ve been together ever since. She’s been my life.” He stopped and drank his beer. “And?” Frank ventured. “Oh, nothing. I just wanted you to know how we met.” Another sip of beer. “Gee, thanks.” Sarcasm oozed from him like pus from an open wound. “But I guess what I mean is that you can find love anywhere. So, if you want to know what you should do, my advice is…” “Yes?” “Do whatever you need to do.” “Seriously? That’s like something from a 1980’s pop song that even Madonna rejected and…” “Listen – just try. What have you go to lose, except time, your heart, your emotional sensibilities and potentially your sanity? So, I say: Go for it.” He offered a smile that could almost be described as hopeful. “You only live once.” Frank was stunned. “You know, that actually makes sense.” Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his surprise. “Thank-you, dad. This was… Thank-you.” And glasses were raised and drinks were finished in silence, both men feeling quite chuffed with themselves. Quite chuffed indeed. The humour is light, but travels along nicely, while the fantasy aspects are all over the place. Yeah, I really like this one. |
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