Juho Pohjalainen's Blog: Pankarp, page 9
October 10, 2018
Technology levels, empires, and jealousy
A friend of mine was reading the draft of Pirates of the Demure Sea, and went on to ask me about photographs. I was going to answer him, but as I thought about the matter it ended up growing and mutating into a far more expansive subject, on technology in my books in general. So I put it in the blog instead.
The setting in which most of my books take place, a moon known as Shala, has some pretty varied levels of technology, sciences, and knowledge. I suppose this is the logical end result (if logic ever enters this kind of issues to begin with) in a world often thrown into the midpoint in a great cosmic conflict, like groups of children starting a fistfight on a field with an anthill in the middle. Scientists are often mistaken for wizards, and wizards are a jealous and misunderstood lot. Wars, occasionally interplanetary ones, can completely shuffle the deck in a heartbeat. Sixteen entirely different and perilous seasons wrack the sections of the world in varying ways, often cutting them off from each other for large periods of time. Parallel dimensions and other realms cross over in places known only to a few. Time travel is not an entirely unknown or impossible phenomenon. Things get weird.
Basically, if you're looking for a highly realistic and accurate examination to the technologies and livelihoods of people of some specific time period and place, this is unlikely to be the series for you.
The first (and currently the only published) book, The Straggler's Mask, sees the heroes crossing great many kingdoms and settlements across many biomes in two different continents, but despite all this variety the level of technological advancement tends to remain at roughly the level of our own 16th century. The Vagrant's Wings takes place several centuries later, in a fantasy equivalent to the Victorian Era, and on account of also taking place at the heart of Nexus - the least weird continent around - anachronisms are at a minimum. They have cars and, yes, photography. But in Pirates of the Demure Sea, which I'm currently working on, the story takes the reader on a faraway journey to an entirely different direction, where things get considerably more freaky.
In particular, two venerable superpowers vie for dominance in these seas, by means of diplomacy, subterfuge, and occasionally outright war: these kingdoms are Armaiti from above, and Aldarion from below.
Armaiti is a dogmatic, downright fascist Lawful empire, with an immortal Emperor and equally-indomitable law enforcement that are mentally linked to Him and more of a direct extension of His will than anything independent or sentient. They've had millennia to advance their technology in peace, but they do things extremely slowly and methodically and carefully, to never upset the order of things in any way. So they've stuck in the early-20th century steampunk/dieselpunk thing for several centuries now.
They have with them trains, zeppelins, helicopters, advanced weaponry (up to and including nukes), near-modern medicine, nigh-unkillable clockwork robot soldiers, and, yes, photography. They also bargained the secret of submarines and underwater construction from Aldarion, later mixing it up with their own tech. They complement all this with sorcery, which is where all the weird fantastic stuff (divine beings, carving Chaos out of humans like it were cancer, etc.) come to play. Magic, technology, and divinity - the last one stemming from their Emperor - all mix together in ways that an outsider can find impossible to understand let alone replicate, and they're jealous and protective of their secrets and slow to let the world outside to know them - it might all very well lead to chaos and disorder, after all.
The empire's borders are in fact completely shut. Only the city of Haurvatāt permits foreign entry, even then after intense customs and vetting, and no non-native is allowed to leave to the empire beyond. Likewise, no imperial native can ever leave abroad without permission, and some specific mission - and for that matter, very few would even want to leave, thank you very much, it's all so weird and scary out there.
Millennia ago when the majority of the old continent sank into the sea, the many warring kingdoms and republics of that time found themselves forced to band together just to survive the entirely new enviroment. Their dome cities, bunkers, magical fortifications, or just really fortuitiously well-constructed architecture, were enough to let them not be instantly killed as the water swept in, but only the kingdom of Zenmua - set around a great inner sea - had submarines and so they were the ones that got to travel around to rescue the less fortunate and unite them all into a new underwater federation that came to be known as Aldarion.
Their technology is a mixed bag, combining whatever high tech they managed to salvage from the old kingdoms, with sorcery and demonology. They have submarines, of course, and also salvage sunken ships and by arcane means turn them into underseaworthy vessels. Some cities have the original domes still standing, while others are cramped little bunker places (the town of Otachame, where the book takes place, follows this style) or bizarre wizard towers. They're technically a monarchy, but their king has fairly little political power: most things are run by a conglomerate of sorcerers and mad scientists from the many provinces and municipalities, most of which are the same as the old nations from back when they still lived above ground.
Aldarion is a far more open and accepting place than Armaiti is, and has a thriving tourism industry, but they're still fairly jealous about their magic and technology, fearing that letting these secrets spill would endanger their livelihood. Armaiti still managed to learn about submarines, though, as mentioned above - their sale on open market is allowed nowadays, but just because you own one, and know how to pilot it, doesn't mean you'd know how it actually works. It's even rumoured that such ships have hidden defenses that trigger if they're ever to be used against Aldarion itself, something even Armaiti would be unaware of.
Little of any of this has reached too far beyond Demure Sea, so far, and especially not to the naive and primitive continent of Nexus. Something of such might have come to place eventually, but then the Skar War happened, and in its aftermath no one contested high king Ivar Stormling's decree to ban all technology that they haven't yet managed to come up with on their own. After that, barring a couple hiccups, it could develop into a spacefaring empire on its own time.
The setting in which most of my books take place, a moon known as Shala, has some pretty varied levels of technology, sciences, and knowledge. I suppose this is the logical end result (if logic ever enters this kind of issues to begin with) in a world often thrown into the midpoint in a great cosmic conflict, like groups of children starting a fistfight on a field with an anthill in the middle. Scientists are often mistaken for wizards, and wizards are a jealous and misunderstood lot. Wars, occasionally interplanetary ones, can completely shuffle the deck in a heartbeat. Sixteen entirely different and perilous seasons wrack the sections of the world in varying ways, often cutting them off from each other for large periods of time. Parallel dimensions and other realms cross over in places known only to a few. Time travel is not an entirely unknown or impossible phenomenon. Things get weird.
Basically, if you're looking for a highly realistic and accurate examination to the technologies and livelihoods of people of some specific time period and place, this is unlikely to be the series for you.
The first (and currently the only published) book, The Straggler's Mask, sees the heroes crossing great many kingdoms and settlements across many biomes in two different continents, but despite all this variety the level of technological advancement tends to remain at roughly the level of our own 16th century. The Vagrant's Wings takes place several centuries later, in a fantasy equivalent to the Victorian Era, and on account of also taking place at the heart of Nexus - the least weird continent around - anachronisms are at a minimum. They have cars and, yes, photography. But in Pirates of the Demure Sea, which I'm currently working on, the story takes the reader on a faraway journey to an entirely different direction, where things get considerably more freaky.
In particular, two venerable superpowers vie for dominance in these seas, by means of diplomacy, subterfuge, and occasionally outright war: these kingdoms are Armaiti from above, and Aldarion from below.
Armaiti is a dogmatic, downright fascist Lawful empire, with an immortal Emperor and equally-indomitable law enforcement that are mentally linked to Him and more of a direct extension of His will than anything independent or sentient. They've had millennia to advance their technology in peace, but they do things extremely slowly and methodically and carefully, to never upset the order of things in any way. So they've stuck in the early-20th century steampunk/dieselpunk thing for several centuries now.
They have with them trains, zeppelins, helicopters, advanced weaponry (up to and including nukes), near-modern medicine, nigh-unkillable clockwork robot soldiers, and, yes, photography. They also bargained the secret of submarines and underwater construction from Aldarion, later mixing it up with their own tech. They complement all this with sorcery, which is where all the weird fantastic stuff (divine beings, carving Chaos out of humans like it were cancer, etc.) come to play. Magic, technology, and divinity - the last one stemming from their Emperor - all mix together in ways that an outsider can find impossible to understand let alone replicate, and they're jealous and protective of their secrets and slow to let the world outside to know them - it might all very well lead to chaos and disorder, after all.
The empire's borders are in fact completely shut. Only the city of Haurvatāt permits foreign entry, even then after intense customs and vetting, and no non-native is allowed to leave to the empire beyond. Likewise, no imperial native can ever leave abroad without permission, and some specific mission - and for that matter, very few would even want to leave, thank you very much, it's all so weird and scary out there.
Millennia ago when the majority of the old continent sank into the sea, the many warring kingdoms and republics of that time found themselves forced to band together just to survive the entirely new enviroment. Their dome cities, bunkers, magical fortifications, or just really fortuitiously well-constructed architecture, were enough to let them not be instantly killed as the water swept in, but only the kingdom of Zenmua - set around a great inner sea - had submarines and so they were the ones that got to travel around to rescue the less fortunate and unite them all into a new underwater federation that came to be known as Aldarion.
Their technology is a mixed bag, combining whatever high tech they managed to salvage from the old kingdoms, with sorcery and demonology. They have submarines, of course, and also salvage sunken ships and by arcane means turn them into underseaworthy vessels. Some cities have the original domes still standing, while others are cramped little bunker places (the town of Otachame, where the book takes place, follows this style) or bizarre wizard towers. They're technically a monarchy, but their king has fairly little political power: most things are run by a conglomerate of sorcerers and mad scientists from the many provinces and municipalities, most of which are the same as the old nations from back when they still lived above ground.
Aldarion is a far more open and accepting place than Armaiti is, and has a thriving tourism industry, but they're still fairly jealous about their magic and technology, fearing that letting these secrets spill would endanger their livelihood. Armaiti still managed to learn about submarines, though, as mentioned above - their sale on open market is allowed nowadays, but just because you own one, and know how to pilot it, doesn't mean you'd know how it actually works. It's even rumoured that such ships have hidden defenses that trigger if they're ever to be used against Aldarion itself, something even Armaiti would be unaware of.
Little of any of this has reached too far beyond Demure Sea, so far, and especially not to the naive and primitive continent of Nexus. Something of such might have come to place eventually, but then the Skar War happened, and in its aftermath no one contested high king Ivar Stormling's decree to ban all technology that they haven't yet managed to come up with on their own. After that, barring a couple hiccups, it could develop into a spacefaring empire on its own time.
October 8, 2018
Meat
A very long time into the future - tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of years - all the non-renewable resources of the world will have been exhausted. We'll run out of all the metals, and oil, and everything.
So what's left? Meat!
So we'll genetically engineer gigantic brainless creatures that can thrive in the void, then use them to travel the stars.
That's all.
So what's left? Meat!
So we'll genetically engineer gigantic brainless creatures that can thrive in the void, then use them to travel the stars.
That's all.
September 27, 2018
P.O.V. hierarchy
This is probably not universal for me, but I notice that in this particular story I've developed something of a priority on who holds the point of view in a given scene. Now that I've realized this fact, it's given me something to think about - and write about.
It goes something like...
Supporting characters > Minor antagonists > Main protagonist > Primary antagonist
A very short list - from the most likely to the least likely, usually in relation to who is present in the scene right now. Generally speaking, the second-rightmost present is the one whose eyes we're seeing it all through.
First, you've got all the minor folks, the support roles, and the victims of villainy, who hold on to the P.O.V. ball. Through their eyes and thoughts the reader gets to hear about their woes, about what's going on, and about these bad guys throwing their weight around. These early villains seem powerful and insurmountable.
Then the hero shows up. All mysterious and awesome, ready to aid the downtrodden and punish the wicked. And so we climb the ladder up by one rung, as the view switches to these minor petty lords and what have you: they're beginning to wonder, and doubt themselves, and fear. Through their eyes, the reader is introduced to the hero, and gets to see him perform, learn a little bit of him, but never truly to know him, maintaining his mystery.
Once these villains are dispatched, we drop back to the lower rung: the rescued civilians and the helpless peasants can now cheer on and wonder about this mystery fellow themselves. As he sticks around (if he does) and befriends these people, they get to learn more of him, pick up facets of his personality, hear his tragic backstory. Little by little, the main character is revealed to the reader.
Every once in a while we may get to see the story through the hero's eyes, when he's particuarly thoughtful or uncertain of himself, but it never really lasts... until the main antagonist enters the scene.
This guy is bad news. He's dark, and inscrutable, and intent on wrecking the lives of everybody for all time. He is unknown to us, and feared by us... and he evokes that same fear in everyone, even the hero. As these two titans clash, lesser people go to the sidelines, unable or unwilling to witness - and now we truly get to feel the hero's doubts, and struggles, and pains, through his eyes. We know him now, backstory and all, and we root for him - in essence, we are him, so of course we need to know what he thinks at all times.
When he wins, we will feel that too.
The thing I'm currently working on - Pirates of the Demure Sea - may be unclear at the outset on who the main villain even is: it has more than one character of equal status, power, and menace, each of whom might end up ascending as the ultimate threat once the other has been gotten rid of. But I'm going to follow the hierarchy outlined above, I think... planning to right now, at least. If I stick with it, it will provide you a clue.
It goes something like...
Supporting characters > Minor antagonists > Main protagonist > Primary antagonist
A very short list - from the most likely to the least likely, usually in relation to who is present in the scene right now. Generally speaking, the second-rightmost present is the one whose eyes we're seeing it all through.
First, you've got all the minor folks, the support roles, and the victims of villainy, who hold on to the P.O.V. ball. Through their eyes and thoughts the reader gets to hear about their woes, about what's going on, and about these bad guys throwing their weight around. These early villains seem powerful and insurmountable.
Then the hero shows up. All mysterious and awesome, ready to aid the downtrodden and punish the wicked. And so we climb the ladder up by one rung, as the view switches to these minor petty lords and what have you: they're beginning to wonder, and doubt themselves, and fear. Through their eyes, the reader is introduced to the hero, and gets to see him perform, learn a little bit of him, but never truly to know him, maintaining his mystery.
Once these villains are dispatched, we drop back to the lower rung: the rescued civilians and the helpless peasants can now cheer on and wonder about this mystery fellow themselves. As he sticks around (if he does) and befriends these people, they get to learn more of him, pick up facets of his personality, hear his tragic backstory. Little by little, the main character is revealed to the reader.
Every once in a while we may get to see the story through the hero's eyes, when he's particuarly thoughtful or uncertain of himself, but it never really lasts... until the main antagonist enters the scene.
This guy is bad news. He's dark, and inscrutable, and intent on wrecking the lives of everybody for all time. He is unknown to us, and feared by us... and he evokes that same fear in everyone, even the hero. As these two titans clash, lesser people go to the sidelines, unable or unwilling to witness - and now we truly get to feel the hero's doubts, and struggles, and pains, through his eyes. We know him now, backstory and all, and we root for him - in essence, we are him, so of course we need to know what he thinks at all times.
When he wins, we will feel that too.
The thing I'm currently working on - Pirates of the Demure Sea - may be unclear at the outset on who the main villain even is: it has more than one character of equal status, power, and menace, each of whom might end up ascending as the ultimate threat once the other has been gotten rid of. But I'm going to follow the hierarchy outlined above, I think... planning to right now, at least. If I stick with it, it will provide you a clue.
September 22, 2018
The temptation of being clever
One of the biggest challenges I consistently face in writing is solid and consistent characterization, especially when it comes to their intelligence. It's hard to portray the less smart characters, because not only do I have trouble deciding what they might figure out and what they might not, but I also always instinctively want to show them do smart stuff because it reflects on me as an author. If my characters do smart stuff, then it just shows that I can write smart stuff. If my characters are dumbasses, then I look like one too.
I think I've gotten better at it as time passes, though. One way is to make the truth of things glaringly obvious to the reader, even if it can take a while for the characters to figure it out. They tend to be under a lot of pressure, after all, often unaware of all the facts, and are therefore susceptible to taking their time - sometimes with fatal consequences. Besides, I tend to feel good about myself whenever I'm reading stuff and figure these things out well before the characters, so maybe my own readers will feel the same.
The real problem is snark. Pithy lines, scathing insults, and sarcasm - the sort to make the reader laugh, and/or have them think the character is really clever, and by extension, the author is. They're a lot harder to be left unsaid in a way that still makes them obvious, easily break the mood of a tense scene, and all too often there's no one around to be smart: the characters are all too preoccupied, scared, dim, or just not giving a damn about funny lines. And yet whenever I miss an opportunity for such, I feel like I also miss an opportunity to affirm my own intelligence. I want to show everyone how witty I can be.
In fact, I sometimes have this nagging suspicion that this sort of a thing is, at least subconsciously, a big motivator in a lot of smartasses of literary fiction: a vehicle for the author to show off their mental muscle a little. I wonder how many others have given it any conscious thought - and then what they would think of it, whether it's true at all, or whether I'm overthinking again. Certainly a bit of smart commentary can enrich a good story, so it's not all bad.
The Straggler's Mask was somewhat lacking of such wit, on account of Peal being too timid and Ivar too dim to give any good lines, though they had a few minor characters picking up the slack. The Vagrant's Wings might do better: it has more smartasses, and the main character especially has trouble knowing when to shut up.
I think I've gotten better at it as time passes, though. One way is to make the truth of things glaringly obvious to the reader, even if it can take a while for the characters to figure it out. They tend to be under a lot of pressure, after all, often unaware of all the facts, and are therefore susceptible to taking their time - sometimes with fatal consequences. Besides, I tend to feel good about myself whenever I'm reading stuff and figure these things out well before the characters, so maybe my own readers will feel the same.
The real problem is snark. Pithy lines, scathing insults, and sarcasm - the sort to make the reader laugh, and/or have them think the character is really clever, and by extension, the author is. They're a lot harder to be left unsaid in a way that still makes them obvious, easily break the mood of a tense scene, and all too often there's no one around to be smart: the characters are all too preoccupied, scared, dim, or just not giving a damn about funny lines. And yet whenever I miss an opportunity for such, I feel like I also miss an opportunity to affirm my own intelligence. I want to show everyone how witty I can be.
In fact, I sometimes have this nagging suspicion that this sort of a thing is, at least subconsciously, a big motivator in a lot of smartasses of literary fiction: a vehicle for the author to show off their mental muscle a little. I wonder how many others have given it any conscious thought - and then what they would think of it, whether it's true at all, or whether I'm overthinking again. Certainly a bit of smart commentary can enrich a good story, so it's not all bad.
The Straggler's Mask was somewhat lacking of such wit, on account of Peal being too timid and Ivar too dim to give any good lines, though they had a few minor characters picking up the slack. The Vagrant's Wings might do better: it has more smartasses, and the main character especially has trouble knowing when to shut up.
September 17, 2018
Last time a character let go of me, a major character died far earlier than he should have
Sometimes my writing surprises even me, even as I go along. A character just flees my grasp and does something completely unexpected and usually lethal.
I'm not always sure whether I should take this as a sign of strong characterization, or weak plot.
I'm not always sure whether I should take this as a sign of strong characterization, or weak plot.
September 15, 2018
Floodgates
You ever had one of those days where you struggle to write anything at all, all day long? Like you have no idea what happens next, or how you're going to tell whatever happens, or anything? And then suddenly something just clicks and you power through five thousand words in as many hours?
It's one of the best feelings I ever get as an author - easily in the top five. I think it might be my equivalent of the thing Arnold Schwarzenegger said about pumping iron (if you don't get it, don't ask).
Just happened to me.
That's all. Carry on.
It's one of the best feelings I ever get as an author - easily in the top five. I think it might be my equivalent of the thing Arnold Schwarzenegger said about pumping iron (if you don't get it, don't ask).
Just happened to me.
That's all. Carry on.
September 14, 2018
Unreliable Narrators
I spoke about narrators a few days back, in particular about how I had some trouble coming up with one for this story. I still have some trouble, sure, but I also mentioned that a lot of the story is also narrated by one of the characters, telling a tale of his own. I'd like to talk more about that today.
He's pretty unreliable.
Unreliable narrator can be a great thing to spice up the story, with a caveat that I'd like them to be established as such very early on, their lies and deceit brought out on the table right away rather than made into a twist at the end (the reasons for this might be worth another blog post later). It throws the whole story into question, forcing you to think about what is real and what isn't, scrutinize everything that happens, compare it to other things, and quite potentially come to great many different interpretations of truth that could make for a great subject for debate if you and some friends have read the same work.
But there's another appeal in them that really gets to me - one that may have much less potential for deep and meaningful storytelling, but that instead is just plain fun. Because they work both ways: they make you doubt everything you hear in the story, sure, but by the same token they also completely throw away all the worldly limitations, laws, and rules. After all, you can't trust that the guy isn't lying!
Now, anything goes. There are no limits, because it's easy to just brush it all away as the narrator lying, embellishing things for effect, misremembering, or just having gone crazy. This story-within-story has no need to adhere to any limitations or to any obligations of being taken seriously. Now you can dive deep into fairy tale and fantasy, to a far greater extent than your setting and story conventions would normally allow - and in my personal opinion, you should! Go for the whole hog! Bring forth the weird, and the wondrous, and the utterly unbelievable! The high magic and monsters in a low-fantasy world! The spaceships and robots in a realistic crime fiction! The friendly tigers and ocean lightshows in a castaway survival tale! (Really, Life of Pi has a lot going for it for other reasons too.)
And at the end of the day, the final question is also reversed. An unreliable narrator can make you ask "How much of this was real?"... but it can also get you to wonder "How much of this was a lie...?"
He's pretty unreliable.
Unreliable narrator can be a great thing to spice up the story, with a caveat that I'd like them to be established as such very early on, their lies and deceit brought out on the table right away rather than made into a twist at the end (the reasons for this might be worth another blog post later). It throws the whole story into question, forcing you to think about what is real and what isn't, scrutinize everything that happens, compare it to other things, and quite potentially come to great many different interpretations of truth that could make for a great subject for debate if you and some friends have read the same work.
But there's another appeal in them that really gets to me - one that may have much less potential for deep and meaningful storytelling, but that instead is just plain fun. Because they work both ways: they make you doubt everything you hear in the story, sure, but by the same token they also completely throw away all the worldly limitations, laws, and rules. After all, you can't trust that the guy isn't lying!
Now, anything goes. There are no limits, because it's easy to just brush it all away as the narrator lying, embellishing things for effect, misremembering, or just having gone crazy. This story-within-story has no need to adhere to any limitations or to any obligations of being taken seriously. Now you can dive deep into fairy tale and fantasy, to a far greater extent than your setting and story conventions would normally allow - and in my personal opinion, you should! Go for the whole hog! Bring forth the weird, and the wondrous, and the utterly unbelievable! The high magic and monsters in a low-fantasy world! The spaceships and robots in a realistic crime fiction! The friendly tigers and ocean lightshows in a castaway survival tale! (Really, Life of Pi has a lot going for it for other reasons too.)
And at the end of the day, the final question is also reversed. An unreliable narrator can make you ask "How much of this was real?"... but it can also get you to wonder "How much of this was a lie...?"
September 12, 2018
Chapters, writing order, and skipping ahead
It's rare that I skip stuff ahead when I write. I write the first chapter of a story first, then second, then third, and so forth, get a mostly satisfying draft done of each before moving on ahead to the next. Sometimes, very occasionally, I skip a chapter: this happens when I've got little idea on what a chapter entails, and I already have a clear image in my mind on the chapter next to that.
The current storyline is a bit of an anomaly in this regard. I begun writing from the second chapter, wrote the fourth before the third, and just now skipped no less than three chapters - going straight from chapter seven to ten. I feel pretty weird about this, that's for sure. Like it was directly and maliciously subverting my logical, patterned mind.
But so long as I keep on writing, I don't mind all that much. I'm still going at my best pace and showing no real signs of slowing down.
The current storyline is a bit of an anomaly in this regard. I begun writing from the second chapter, wrote the fourth before the third, and just now skipped no less than three chapters - going straight from chapter seven to ten. I feel pretty weird about this, that's for sure. Like it was directly and maliciously subverting my logical, patterned mind.
But so long as I keep on writing, I don't mind all that much. I'm still going at my best pace and showing no real signs of slowing down.
September 11, 2018
Narrators
I like giving a special narrator voice to many of my stories. Whoever's telling the story is rarely me, as such, and often has comments to give on the events and may or may not be entirely reliable. Sometimes it makes for a good part of the story, other times it's just a gimmick.
I feel like in this case it might be the former, but I'm having a hard time finding someone to take over the narrator's role. Something to think about.
I mean, one of the characters narrates his own adventures... but I don't think that really counts.
I feel like in this case it might be the former, but I'm having a hard time finding someone to take over the narrator's role. Something to think about.
I mean, one of the characters narrates his own adventures... but I don't think that really counts.
September 9, 2018
Research
I like doing research.
I don't think I do all too much of it, all in all - I'm not that fussed about everything being absolutely accurate in every way - but I tend to end up growing curious of whatever I'm writing at a time and picking up bits and pieces of it. I'm probably not alone in this.
The most fun part, though, is when all that research meets fantasy... and gets all mucked up.
Like when you read about the cuisine of native South Americans... except in this story they're actually birds, and their lack of teeth is certainly going to throw a wrench to all I know. So now I have to figure out how it changed things, and that more likely than not is entirely up to me.
Lately I've been reading on sailing, Italian architecture, submarines, Jules Verne, and some more food stuff. All of this is surely going to be twisted pretty hard too.
I don't think I do all too much of it, all in all - I'm not that fussed about everything being absolutely accurate in every way - but I tend to end up growing curious of whatever I'm writing at a time and picking up bits and pieces of it. I'm probably not alone in this.
The most fun part, though, is when all that research meets fantasy... and gets all mucked up.
Like when you read about the cuisine of native South Americans... except in this story they're actually birds, and their lack of teeth is certainly going to throw a wrench to all I know. So now I have to figure out how it changed things, and that more likely than not is entirely up to me.
Lately I've been reading on sailing, Italian architecture, submarines, Jules Verne, and some more food stuff. All of this is surely going to be twisted pretty hard too.
Pankarp
Pages fallen out of Straggler's journal, and others.
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