Author

I wish I could write. I listened to a audio book this morning that spoke about the intro to a story. An intro is called a hook. It needs to answer or at least establish questions like who, what, where, when, why and it must advertise the rest of the story. It has to set the tone. You may not get a paragraph. You may not get 100 words or 50.

The most memorable example was "Call me Ishmael." Ishmael was second in charge. He was the man behind the king so to speak. Readers in Melville 's time would have known that. The first line of the novel spoke volumes with those three words. I did not know who Ishmael was until I heard the article read out this morning. I'm not well read.

I would love to have written. I would love to have a label to leave on my tombstone that might make someone look me up. I want to be a keyword. I want a Wikipedia entry. There are a couple with my name already. I'm not linking them for obvious reasons.

I take pictures. I make some noise here and there on the net. Nothing any one would remember. I would love to write trashy fiction that people love to read. I would love to write something that makes people think. I want to be remembered.

I'm turning forty in two months. This is just about the right time for a mid life crisis. I've waited half my life to get here.

So, what do I intend to do about it? I have no idea. I may put some very short fiction entries on this blog to figure out what sticks. I intend to drink more coffee and practice existentialism, you know, just for kicks. Perhaps I'll shave my head and grow a beard. Oh, wait.

Where to begin? Where to begin? How do you get started with fiction. The great thing about writing science fiction is you can just crank out a bunch of goofy stuff and put it all down as new technology. My problem is that I think the future will be far more boring than the past. We will all be girly powder-puff wooses more concerned with our next meal and next kiss than invaders or interstellar conflict and intrigue. We won't go out with a bang or a whimper. We will simply continue on the way to boredom until we merge with our own machines just for something to do on a particularly blah Weekend afternoon.

So, I guess I shouldn't write about the future I foresee. I should write about the one that is non-existent, but very interesting. The future with exploding planets and folding, nay, collapsing universes, just in time supply should become just in time escape and salvation. Worlds collide, but Nigel Forthwith saves the day just in the nick of time, every time. Hell of a guy.

That will due. I've always wondered if Princess Leia, Han Solo and Luke Skywalker, were working names that just happened to make it in to the final cut almost by accident.

Han Shot first.