Andrew Moore's Blog, page 128

Let's Take the Temperature!

Old and tired: Ambiguity.
Back in style: Ambidexterity.

Terror of the Black Hole

"Watch out, Perry! The black hole will pull us in if we continue on this course!"
"So?"
"Huh?"
Perry lounged in the ship's cabin, one arm dropping over one rest, his eyes half-closed. "What's the fuss about that, Randy?"
"It's a black hole."
"And?"
"And that's bad."
"Oh?" Perry's head rolled till he could look straight at Randolph, his co-pilot. "Have you ever been in one?"
"No. Nobody has."
"Exactly."
It was an exploration ship, after all. Most of a mile of sensors, thrusters, reactors, and provisions for the two pilots confined to the single cabin investigated anything that seemed worth investigating. Not black holes. Everyone knew what those were.
"Don't we know what those are?"
"No more than we do about the rest of this stuff. We have telescopes. We have unmanned probes. We're out here to make sure."
"Yeah. OK. Yeah. Punch it."

The two pilots regained awareness in a vestibule. They remembered nothing about leaving their ship, but there they were.
"Well, Randy? How was it?"
"I don't even remember. Let's go through that door, maybe find something to report."
Perry eased open the smaller, presumably interior door, and saw chaos. Unimaginable chaos. Aliens with six arms hung from two or three chandeliers at once, a line of dancers with anywhere from three to eight legs each kicked up its many heels in time with the bouncy intergalactic band on the anti-gravity stage, and partiers carried on all over the floor, the walls, the transparent ceiling, and every surface of the room above visible beyond it.
"I admit that I'm a little surprised," Perry said. "Isn't there a fire marshal around?"
"Ha!" A mass of crystal which had extended part of itself into a single gigantic arm for holding a keg vibrated in amusement. "Nobody like that could make it in here. This place is for cool guys and gals only. Like you two. How do I know you're cool when I've never seen your species before? Because you're here, that's how. Come on in!"
Perry and Randy grinned at each other. "Don't mind if we do."
Finis

When to Use a Pen Name

If you're Fred Saberhagen and you're not writing about swords, you should call yourself Fred Spacestationhagen.

Addendum

Not if you do it after reading that post, of course.

True Creativity

is when you give the artillery captain an eyepatch and a very sophisticated parrot.

Addendum

Especially if the sympathetic character had cause to dislike the unsympathetic character. A business deal gone sour. Wouldn't let him marry his daughter. That sort of thing.

How to Establish a Sympathetic Character

Have somebody be sad the unsympathetic character got murdered.

How To Establish an Unsympathetic Character

Have him get murdered early on. The readers will figure he deserved it. That way there can be plenty of suspects.

There Are More Than You Might Think

"How long, guide?"
"About four hours, Mr. Jarris."
Jarris considered. He could reach his destination that same day, but his men wouldn't feel right about staying the night in or anywhere near the Esdallic Fane. Neither would he, come to that. "We'll make camp here," he told them before turning back to the local he had hired. "Will you continue with us or return to town? I don't know how the people around here feel about the Fane."
The guide pulled a copper pendant from behind his shirt and fingered it while he thought. "Mostly we don't think about it. There's nothing special about it as far as we know, but if you find something . . . I hope you wouldn't mind if I tell everybody."
"Depends what we find." Jarris chuckled, but he kept his eyes on the pendant. "I didn't see anyone else with a pendant like that. Back in town, I mean."
"Oh, uh, well no. My father gave this to me before he disappeared. Told me not to let it out of my sight, that it was important."
Jarris narrowed his eyes. He felt his scar throbbing. He opened his mouth, but that was all. Wind blew words away. Thunder made everything silent by comparison. A storm manifested, a man-sized storm, and cleared up seconds later.
"I'll give you 500 melks for it." A man stood where the storm had been. He wore robes and held a staff made not for walking, but for magic. "The average laborer makes 3 melks per month. With 500, you can buy property. Get married. It's a good deal!" "Who are you? What are you up to?" Jarris demanded to know.
"I'm the Mage of Darrannassa. I have a spell that alerts me to mysterious keepsakes so I can make an offer. They've all been duds so far, but eventually I'll find one with immense magical potency. That's the bet I'm making, but take my advice, young Araph. Don't bet. Take the sure thing. 500 melks, today."
"How did you know my name?" the young guide gasped.
"I'm the Mage of Darrannassa."

Well? What you would you do? Answer now before scrolling down to see what happened.





"Well . . ." Araph said, but then the demons attacked. As usual, that was a fake choice.
Finis

The New Alignment System

Cat - Neutral - Dog
Plane - Neutral - Tank