Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts
Tuesday was an average day until the man beside me made a move. White as snow, a frazzled gray-beard with hippy-long hair in a pony tail like he’s Willy Nelson, shorter than me by a foot, he broke the day’s calm normalcy by finishing his coffee with a loud slurp, setting the cup down and then walking out through the coffee shop wall. I saw this out of my side vision and swung around, staring as my mind argued about what my eyes were telling me.
Hoping for verification, I shot a look back into the room. Three women at a nearby table were staring at the space beside me. The eldest, pointing and talking, was saying, “That man went through the wall,” as the second, younger, middle-aged, with long blonde hair dry and damaged from aging, was saying, “What?” in that rising confused way which expressed profound doubt about what she was hearing. Her position would have her facing away so she probably didn’t see. But the third, who could have been the blonde’s sister but skinnier, older, and dark-haired, was empatically stating, “Yes, yes, that’s what I saw.”
“You saw that,” I demanded of the two, and they were nodding and asking, “Did you see it, too?” and an elderly man approached, stating in a loud, quavering voice, “I saw that, too, that guy went right out through the wall, I saw it, I saw it.”
Guffawing, my brain said, “Happy New Year,” as the walls began melting and screams rose. 2024 was going to be interesting, if I survive. Either that or this coffee was something really special.
The Writing Moment
Another revision of the novel in progress has been finished. The book has grown with this effort and is now 157K words and 520 Word pages one-inch margins.
Hoping I’m not jinxing matters, I feel happy and comfortable with how it has developed. This last revision was an entertaining project. I’m more familiar with the story and characters and had greater understanding of what to emphasize and what to cut back.
I finished just in time for the year end. Now I’ll take a pause for the holiday and then begin another revision cycle after the new year has begun. Cheers
Wednesday’s Wandering Whimsies
Do you ever imagine that invisibile beings surround you, watching what you’re doing when you’re in your home alone, commenting on it to each other?
They seem to come in three flavors: aliens from space, time travelers from the future, and deceased individuals — especially family — returned as spirits. What they say and how they watch varies, depending upon which group they’re in, and their intentions.
So, for example, aliens crowd around you in the kitchen as you clean up, remarking upon the cultural significance of your routine, applauding your efficiency (or lack of it), comparing it to their own processes and habits.
No? You never have this happen?
Yeah, neither do I.
Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts
There are perils in reading which I was never warned about.
For example, have you ever felt a need to use the restroom, and decided to read a book as you sat on the commode?
And then you ended up sitting there reading for so long, engrossed by the book, that your rear end and a foot ‘go asleep’?
No? It’s just me, then?
For the record, the book which caused me a numb butt and number foot is His Majesty’s Dragon by Naomi Novik, published in 2006. The writing style for this historic fantasy novel about dragons during the Napoleonic Wars reminds me of Patrick O’Brian’s style for Master and Commander and the Aubrey-Maturin series. Besides those, I see the same style in CJ Sansom’s terrific Mathew Shardlake series, as well as the historic fiction series by Bernard Cornwell — Sharpe’s rifles, Saxon stories and The Last Kingdom — among others.
His Majesty’s Dragon is set in a world where dragons exist, critical for the plot. These dragons think and speak, and display human personality traits. They’re breed and used in war as aerial forces. The focus of this book is a large black dragon named Temeraire, and his aviator, Captain William Laurence. Captaining the Reliant, Captain Laurence wins the dragon egg in a naval battle. After that, the book is about the developing relationship between man and beast. Along the way, we discover how dragons are employed in war, and the social issues about being a dragon aviator. Such fine, and so finely detailed, it’s wonderful story telling.
If you pick up Her Majesty’s Dragon, you might want to limit your toilet reading time. Trust me on this recommendation.
Just In A Dream
Another hill to climb.
Sweat plagued his eyes. He sniffed and swallowed, wishing for water. He’d been going since sunup. Heat and humility built around him. It seemed determined to crush him like a grape.
Giving up was considered and dismissed. He was here and going to do it. Doubt about whether he was following the instructions kept bouncing through, confusing him about what the little thing told him. Half-asleep, he wasn’t sure if it was a robot, tiny human, or something else, like an elf or fairy. They hadn’t introduced themselves. Maybe it wasn’t even real. Just his imagination.
Without preamble, “Just My Imagination (Running Away with Me)” derailed his thinking. Didn’t matter. He’d reached the hill’s crest. Signposts were ahead. An intersection. Down this hill and up another. Stepping faster, he was there in less than ten minutes, perspiring with more vigor, and breathless. He didn’t think he’d need water for this. Not for a dream. Didn’t think it’d be sunny, or like a day in any way.
The signpost was in the center of a large gold-bricked circle. Arrow shaped signs. About a hundred of them. No, more than that. Maybe a thousand. Different colors, languages, and printing styles. Looked crude. Homemade.
His little nocturnal visitor sounded like an irritated teacher when they said, “I’m tired of you sitting around, whining, waiting, and wishing, so I’m doing you a solid.”
They pointed. “See that?”
Slow because he was half-asleep, he pressed to see what the little one meant even though the little one was still talking. “Get in there and turn left for the past, right for the future, or straight ahead to another existence. Whichever way you go, you’ll come to a signpost.
“You better hurry if you’re going to do it. The portal will close and fade, and your opportunity will be gone.”
“Wait, what?” He sat up. Yawned. Stretched. Rubbed his eyes. Massaged his genitals. Considered peeing. Frowned. “What?”
His small visitor was barely a fading memory. The opening remained where there was usually a wall. A portal? Thinking, I must still be dreaming and I’ll wake up at any moment, he entered the opening. Fearing the future, regretting his past – too many things to change there and who knows how it would turn out – he’d gone straight.
He stared up at the signs. Words emerged. Animals.
A frown creased his face. What was that about? He’d always liked cats and they liked him. He admired birds. Dogs were okay…
He stepped in the cat’s direction with slow, short steps. Shivers tickled him. Changes took place. His fingers were gone. Paws halfway through construction had replaced them. Looked like he’d be a black cat.
He backed up. More shivers traveling him, his fingers returned.
Did he want to be a cat? He looked back down the road he’d followed to come here with the thought, maybe he should have gone to the past to see what he could have changed. He might have been hasty.
The road was gone. Nothing was there. Gray nothing.
He walked toward it. The gray nothing stopped him from advancing. Like trying to wade through stiffening tar.
Well, what the hell. This was only a dream.
He turned back to the sign and read the offerings. No doubt, that’s what they were. Unicorn. Whale. Elephant. Dog. Kracken. Dolphin.
Dragon, he saw.
Dragon. It’d be so cool to be a dragon, even if just in a dream.
But bravery wasn’t in his personal inventory. He stood, staring, considering, flounder, eel, coral snake, eagle – eagle would be fun. Puma. Tiger. Heron. Emu. Alligator.
No. With all of his fears and hopes, the best thing he could become is something fantastic.
Happy with his decision, he turned and advanced, shivering and coughing as he grew and changed until at last he walked out of a high mountain cave into a purple dusk. Spreading his golden wings, he released a fiery roar and felt the world’s fear. Yes, being a dragon was going to be so cool.
Even if it was just in a dream.
Michael Seidel, writer 