Two days out of the hospital, drugged, wired, and rather insomniac-ish. Perfect recipe for finally finishing the first draft of my latest book. I wrapped it up today at a bit over 85,000 words. That’s a good, healthy length for a novel. To give you a comparable idea, that’s pretty much the same length as George Orwell’s 1984 or Jane Austen’s Persuasion. Though, this book has nothing at all to do with those two, other than the English language.
I don’t have a proper name for it yet, so it’s merely the Book for now. Sort of like when you get a new cat or dog and they’re Cat or Dog for a while until you name them Phidipides or Moon Unit or Sweetikins (which’ll never happen in a million years in my household; by the way, we’re getting chickens this year–edible pets). The Book, as I’ve mentioned before, is a humorous epic fantasy. I tried with all my might to poke as much fun as possible at a lot of different fantasy stereotypes. Fantasy, even though I enjoy reading and writing serious fantasy, is just way too stodgy as a genre. It gets a bit too full of hot air at times. Most times. Almost all the time. The silken balloon needs to crash every once in a while on the rocks of scorn. The elves need to lighten up and write some other poetry that isn’t all about drifting west while harp music plays dirges. And that farmboy who’s destined to save the world? Um, right. Be content with growing potatoes. Farming is an honorable occupation.
There aren’t many genuine humorists in fantasy, other than Terry Pratchett and, to a lesser degree, Terry Brooks. When you take a look at other genres, the dearth becomes even more apparent (and psychologically intriguing, in my opinion). Though I have great respect for Pratchett, I took my humorist cues for the Book more from Douglas Adams, leavened with Pinkwater and Wodehouse. That trio doesn’t write fantasy, but humor is humor.
Even though no one really knows what humor is.
Anyway, I have some serious story and character editing to do. After that, I’ll test it on a small group of beta readers and then off to my editor for a first pass. Until then, please read some good books.
You’ve got some *serious* editing to do on this? [snicker, snort]
I very sincerely hope your elves occasionally have a bad hair day. And their harp strings break, with loud twangs, making them say a bad word or two. And, please – if someone fights with their helmet off, make them get a whack on the head that results in injury, if not death!
So glad to see you back up and at ’em. Phidipides and Sweetikins salute you.