A Quantum of Humor

When all things are said and done, if I am only able to accomplish one thing with Zara Thibideaux, it is this. It is that I elicited a good laugh from the reader. ...or at the very least a snort, chuckle or groan...

Granted, the Zara stories are fully intended to be medium-firm science fiction, they are still stories dealing with the human condition and lets face it. We all have plenty of cold, unpleasant reality in our lives, so why burden our down time by fictionalizing more of it?

No, I’d rather take the sound scientific principles that I wish to incorporate into my stories, extrapolate them into their future potential, then firmly disguise them in my decidedly Douglas Adams-Monty Pythonesque sense of the absurd. Though it is not to say that I wish to wrap a slice of lemon about a gold brick and then beat the reader with it. Nay, I’d rather tend to the more subtle approach

Take quantum mechanics as an example. This is not a topic generally known to make the comedy circuits and if you are trying to pitch it to a bunch of pre and early teen readers…. Well it is probably a hard sell even in the best of circumstances…. Or is it?

It is amazing what one can come up with on a daily commute, despite the insistence of other drivers that you really pay attention to what you are doing at 70+ish miles per hour.
....here is a small teaser of what I came up with. If you want to see the rest of it, well you need to be my agent, publisher or guinea pig….. your choice.

[ “Been working on an experiment,” The boy commented as he noticed Zara’s stare.
“Excellent,” Zara was immediately interested. “What kind?”
“I am trying to achieve a sustained state of quantum uncertainty,” The boy was grinning in obvious pride, or it might have been in reaction to whatever it was he had just eaten. The only thing certain about school lunches were that they were organic and theoretically weren’t designed to kill you. ]

...skipping a bit….

[“Oh,” Zara replied. “How did it work out?”
“Not so good,” Dink shook his head sadly as he looked at the scratches on his hands, “But I think I know where I went wrong.”
“The part where you stole your neighbor’s cat and strapped toast to it’s back?” Zara suggested. ]

Turkey Day Ruminations & Left-overs

Yesterday, my family and I completed a ten hour journey to visit my parents. We bravely ventured forth from our homeland, suitably armed with all the latest entertainment gadgets to keep the kids entertained. iPods, DS's and what have you.

It was not long into the journey that regardless of what you give children to entertain themselves, they'll fall back onto the time honored tradition of annoying the hell out of each other and by extension, their parents.

As a devotee of sci-fi and a writer (somewhat) there of, I had a full ten hours to think over the various travel solutions used in various and sundry s/f novels. There are the classics such as hyperspace/warp speed, folding space for point-to-point translation, matter transmission..... and the list goes on.

Obviously on a terrestrial journey, such methods are not practical, not to mention the technology really just isn't there yet. (are we there yet?) All of which brought me to the lesser used space travel technology a'la slowboat to Alpha Centauri in cryostasis.

And with that a solution suggested itself. If I could just put the kids to sleep, we'd have peace and quiet.We'd wake them up as we pulled into grandma's driveway.... perfect. The technology wasn't an issue as it was 19 degrees outside. All I needed to s\do was roll down the windows in the back and in about twenty minutes they'd be fast frozen. Viola! Low-tech cryo-sleep.

Well as one might imagine, my wife would have issues with my perfectly reasonable and simple solution. Spoil sport!

Nine hours later, we pull into the driveway, destination achieved and we were neither childless, nor no longer was I tightly gripping my sanity.

Well it is Thanksgiving now and I am all better. ....Dreading the trip back though. It seems all the tech gadgets are useless so I might resort to another low tech solution. Perhaps road-kill bingo with the winner getting to stop for a restroom break. Maybe..... I am not too fond of stopping.

Of Vampires & Jedi.

Speaking of how one's children can influence one's work, both in the positive and in the negative, here is a bit of Flash Fiction that I wrote earlier this year. I decided to post the piece to show that my children can also inspire the creative process just as well as they can interfere with it.

I suppose that it is no small coincidence that I post this just after the release of Twilight in the movie theaters.
This should not be construed as a slight to the followers and fans of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series, rather it is just a bit of fun from my own family's experience with the books.

I give you: Jedi vs Vampires

“I think Jacob is going to die in the next book.”

Anne offered this non sequitur to the meandering conversation taking place in the car on the way back from church.

As ship's captain I was more intent on keeping the car between the lines while playing DJ on the CD player. I had not been following the three conversations very closely.

“Edward will probably marry Bella as well.” Anne followed up with another observation.

“Ohhhh Kay,” Just beginning to tune in I was still completely lost on just what the hell she was going on about.

“Dad, go back to Baba O’Reilly.”

“No.”

“Vampires can’t kill werewolves. It takes a silver bullet doesn’t it, Dad?” Grace sounded pretty certain.

I stopped the CD on ‘Save it For Later’ by The Jam. I wasn’t much in the mood for The Who, though I was pleased that Grace, my eight year old, did have some favorite Who songs. I just wasn’t in the mood for them now. Her vampire and werewolf comment did clue me in though.

Anne was talking about her current favorite, Stephenie Meyer’s vampire series, of which I enjoyed making great sport of. Not the books mind you,just Anne’s infatuation with them.

She thinks they are romantic. My point is that Edward is just like any other guy despite being a hundred year old vampire. He’s just after one thing… well two things really, blood as well as nookie. I think this cautionary note was lost on her though.

“Yeah, it takes silver, though I bet you could get one with a flamethrower.”

“Anne, Vampires can’t kill Werewolves.” Linc chimed in.

“Sure they can and I bet Edward is going to kill Jacob after the wedding. Then the big vampire family over in Italy is going to come over and kill Edward, after he marries Bella and bites her.”

“What is this? Like Italian Mafia vampires?”

“Kinda.”

My snort of derision was lost in The Jam’s tune.

“Daddy, go back to Baba O’Reilly.”

“No, Grace.”

“I bet you could kill a Werewolf with an X-Wing.” I was warming up to the conversation, now ready to push it to great heights of absurdity. That and any mention of Star Wars would get my son involved in the action.

“Or a Tie Fighter,” Linc offered with glee.

Much to my great disappointment, Linc has always been an Imperial Sympathizer. I’m not sure where his mother and I went wrong. His mother and I, like most of our generation just naturally supported the Rebel cause. Maybe not out of principal; mainly because I always though Princess Leia was babe-o-licious and of course my wife had Han Solo.

“Dad! See what you started” Besides you couldn’t kill a vampire with an x-wing.”

Despite the absurdity of all of the conversation, Anne couldn’t help but to defend her beloved vampire, Edward. She also had a hard time understanding that I was teasing.

“No, or course not. I’d use a lightsaber. Duh!”

“Dad!” Anne complained. “You couldn’t even touch him. Vampires have super strength and speed. Plus their skin is hard like diamond.”

“If I were running around with a lightsaber, Anne, I’d be a Jedi. That means force enhanced reflexes, speed and perception… the works. And what’s this about diamond hard skin? That doesn’t sound very appealing.”

“Anne,” Linc’s voice sounded as if he were about to lecture a 4 year old and not his older sister. “Lightsabers can cut through anything even diamond. They are pure energy.”

“Edward would just turn to mist and escape then,” Anne countered, refusing to allow her dear Edward to be defeated.

“Dad-deee, I really want to hear Baba O’reilly.” Grace was sounding pitiful.

“Gah! Ok Grace.”

“Dad, if a lightsaber passes through mist what happens? Mist is just water vapor right?” Linc asked.He was my scientist and had earned the nickname Bill Nye of the forth grade.

I nodded into the rear view mirror, seeing where he was heading with this. “Super heated steam buddy, it might not kill him, but he wouldn’t be a happy vampire.”

“Ok, you win,” Anne conceded as she turned and stared out the side window.

I caught Linc’s eye in my rear-view mirror. He was grinning like a monkey on a banana plantation. Grace was bobbing her head to the second stanza of Baba O’Reilly and I had actually won an argument with my only teenager....

“Now if I could just get Linc to repent of his support for The Empire, the Universe would again be in balance."

Recently, I have developed a pattern of being creative where I am least able to take advantage of the muse that besets me. That is to say, all my best ideas happen at work when I am... well working on things other than writing.

So, to better take advantage of this I keep an appropriate supply of writing materials in my car and I dash out at lunch to jot down all that I can in my limited 30 minutes. Remarkably, I have actually been pretty productive behind the wheel of my stationary car. (pun intended)

Alas, upon reaching home where I can convert my auto-induced creative contributions to my current Zara project, I find that my muse must somehow be trapped in the parking lot at work. She certainly is not anywhere to be found in the vicinity of my computer at home.

At any rate, this condition has been vexing me for a few months though I am still making progress. It is just that the gears of creativity grind to a halt at an inopportune time...

Funny thing happened tonight however. That grinding crunch I kept hearing behind my right ear when I sit down at the computer.. turns out it's not my creativity wheels grinding to a halt so much as it is one of my three kids eating dry cereal about six inches behind my ear. That accompanying droning noise? Turns out it to be one of my youngin's pestering me about how long it is going to be before they can get on iTunes and/or YouTube.

I think a solution might have just suggested itself.

Writing Zara Thibideaux

The story of Zara Thibideaux arose from an exercise that was intended to show my oldest daughter that anyone with imagination can write a story.

The easy part is the imagining, the hard part is summoning up the discipline to commit one's backside to a chair long enough to write something worth reading. The hardest bit yet to come is getting published.

So far, I have been able to manage the first two hurdles with varying degrees of success. The road to getting published I've yet to tread.

More later when I decide what's safe to share.