Apparently, a little bit of knowledge can be dangerous. In that case I’m probably a ticking time bomb, considering all the bits I’ve picked up along the way. One thing about writing a sci-fi/fantasy series is that I get to play with all my bits without hurting anyone. Bits of information – I’m sure that no impure thoughts entered your mind at all there. I’ve stopped even planning the final book in the series now because the minute I think that the story will wither and be boring after too many, something new and awesome pops up.
I’ve got hundreds of interesting but strange findings, happenings, theories, legends, and all sorts of things tucked away in folders for possible future use in my scribbles. I’ve found that the stories that most tantalised and absorbed me have always been those that made me think and wonder how much of it could be, or have been, true. Apart from mockumentaries that is – they just really piss me off. The Blair Witch project, that exorcism gone wrong in Rome thing, and that stupid waste of money Mermaid thing. I’m not fond of being conned. But in fiction, when I come across something that sparks a memory of something I’ve seen or heard, especially if it’s cleverly disguised, I’m always drawn right in.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not using this as some sort of ploy to trap conspiracy theorists into blindly loving me up regardless of whether my writing is rotten or not. It’s something I enjoy doing, because the writing of it sends me off into these strange worlds of possibility, and that really rocks my boat. The multiple universe thing for me is a given. And of course there logically can’t be an end to them, because I can’t see how finite is a possible option when there is no such thing as empty space as far as we’ve seen. That’s just my opinion, and I’m pretty sure that we need to live and learn, at least for another couple of millennia, before we get close to really getting the real picture.
A friend once said of sci-fi/fantasy, “Why waste any time of your life writing about the impossible? Fairy tales are for kids, and I’m not prepared to read way out shite. Give me facts and things that are really possible, and I’ll enjoy the story!” (This was before I started writing by the way, so it wasn’t a personal attack) But still. Ever since I was a child, I’ve insisted that scientists have got dinosaurs all wrong. To begin with I was pretty sure that they put them together with the arms on backwards. I’ll give them that one now. But I always insisted that they must have had feathers. And I’ve always been told that that was just silly – dinosaurs never had feathers – end of. And now we’re starting to find that dinosaurs actually did have feathers, and I’m sure we’re going to find a lot more as our equipment gets better. So… (insert raspberry here) scientists! Erring on the side of caution is all very well, for scientists. But us sci-fi guys can happily zoom off into the other direction.
To me, it’s entirely possible that our legends of dragons stem from our collective ancient memories of very real, but gorgeous, flying beasts that munched us up now and then. Why not? There’s another cool theory that whatever you see in your mind, suddenly pops into existence somewhere. Another that something can’t exist unless it is seen. All most cool as far as sci-fi goes. Sci-fi guys have more problems with the other thing than the blocking I reckon – at least I do. Muse in need of mental Imodium. Never mind. So much previously science fact has had to be changed as we’ve progressed. Including with the carbon dating of ancient sites. There are more methods of dating artefacts now, and it’s not possible to properly date crystal. The given age of rocks – the rock we’re on – and the seas that she sails in is constantly under scrutiny, and changes now and then. Funnily enough, the changes always make us older. There are so many mysterious sites around the globe, like Puma Punku, that you can head off to, and eyeball with your own fair eyeball. Stonemasonry so precise and smooth, that it appears that the rock has been cut using extreme, EXTREME heat and welded together in ways that we can’t replicate today with all our knowledge and equipment, and that these structures were built before man (apparently) had figured out that living in caves was not the only way to go. Serious fodder for the imagination.
When you have as much
procrastination research under your belt as I have, you begin to see a pattern. Strange and surprising coincidences and connections that make it easy for me to see nothing wild and whacky in my scribbling – only endless maybes. It is a true thing that we are all constantly being remade. We lose particles and we gain new particles. Particles that have been around for all eternity, joining our very physical make up, to become part of who we are. And they zoom in from all over the place. You could very well have a tiny atom lurking as a bit of the flesh of your left nostril that was once a part of the eyelash of a centaur living on a busy planet somewhere in Alph Centauri. That is science fact. So who is to say that some sort of residual memory from that particle doesn’t people the dreams and thoughts of scribblers like me – totally normal people, every one of us! And that our tales are more universal channelling than making stuff up. Anyway…..
Here’s an interesting thing. If you type this into the Google Earth search box 66 33′ 11.58″S 99 50′ 17.86″E, you’ll find this,
And then if you fiddle around and go down a bit, you’ll find this,
Secret entrances carved out of the ice in the Antarctic, you say? What’s that funny black roof, you ask? Well now…. I don’t know yet, but at some time, in some space or universe, they will appear in a scribble of mine, changed, twisted, vaguely memorable. These are the best kind of writing prompts for me. Rock on sci-fi guys!