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This is a continuation of my blogging here at WdC |
| Novel #39 The next book in the Speculative Humour Cycle comes up now. I think my concept for this is great but where this one falls down a little is the characters. My protagonist/ narrator is back to the whiny emo-lite adult male, although there are reasons, and there is a character who sort of fades in and out of the narrative too often. Anyway. This one is science-fiction/urban fantasy. And the concept I came up with at the same time as Fluffy Doom, but I could not see an ending, so the others were written before this one. This book is called simply F. The one letter. That is the name of the illegal drug at the core of the story. An elevator pitch précis could be: “In a world where Dinos are genetically engineered sentient beings, a drug called F is on the streets. The hero discovers a dead Dino and through a series of misfortunes, discovers how F is made and helps destroy the main lab and kill the big boss, all the while hooking up with his ex.” At 46k words, it is the same word length as the rest and fits in well with the humour. I think the opening is really well done when they find the dead Dino. I think my explanation of the world building through excerpts from various books at the start of each chapter is nice way to do info-dumps. I think the names of the Dinos all being cutesy-wutesy is still funny. But the thing I like about this best is what the drug F actually is that people have become addicted to. So much to like. So why am I down on it? The characters. The stereotypes and flatness really shine through, especially after Revelation 2…. Look, I think it’s funny, but I should have done better. Now, I am asked on occasion about the origin stories like this. So, I was watching Jurassic Park 2 with a mate on TV when he said, “Has anyone ever done a comedy version of this?” I did some research and found a few short stories, a short film, a few films that were not meant to be funny but were regarded as such, but, no, no Jurassic Park comedies. I’d already written Steele Blast… and so I decided why not? The first draft (of only 3 chapters) was basically a National Lampoon parody of the original, and it didn’t work. I needed a twist. The twist came from remembering the old TV show Dinosaurs (okay show, depressing bloody ending) and thinking, Sentience. And so I should start after they’re part of society. The story was born. Someone mentioned that it was almost like a parody of colonisation as well, with the Dinos representing subjugated peoples. Fine, read it that way. It was not written that way. So, that’s the story! Excerpt Chapter 2 – The Corpse ”No matter what the public may choose to believe, the killing of a member of the Dino species is still murder. Normally.” JUDGE CHRIS T. AGATHER (summing up remarks: R. v A.F.Police) The police officer was probably human, standing a little over six foot tall, none of which was neck, with eyes too small for his head, a lipless mouth and an air of malice that was hard to ignore. His off-sider looked to be part-weasel and smelt like he had just come off a week-long beer bender. With their attitude on entering the bar, I was pretty sure they weren’t going to be playing “good cop, bad cop”, but something closer to “stupid cop, moron cop”. Their line of questioning was predictable. “What’s your name?” “Where do you live?” “What are you doing here?” “Why are you hitting yourself?” You know the drill. I answered as well as I could between telephone book strikes, but they weren’t really interested in me or Zen. The doctor chap told them that the victim seemed to have had his large intestine removed and they thanked him profusely, then charged in through the cubicle and the second door as though some-one had told them McDonalds was having a two-for-one sale. I watched them go and even dared to follow, Zen right behind me, scowling. The bar next door looked like it had been left over from a Western movie set, and a B-grade one at that. Wood everywhere, dirty floor and a barman that looked like he was armed with a twelve-gauge shot-gun, probably in a shoulder holster and with a pearl handle. But it was the patrons that stood out. All of them clearly had not been allowed to leave, the automatic locking system having kicked in immediately something had gone ‘wrong’. A squad of heavily armed and apparently brain-dead uniformed officers had them all sitting on the floor with their hands on their heads, those who could reach. The entire place was silent, except for the hum of the extractor fans stuck into the roof, sucking whatever they could out of the room. What struck me most was that they all seemed to know their place, staring at the floor submissively, though the eyes I could see were full of anger. The green and brown scales glistened in the lights and the visible feathers quivered with emotion. Those with horns looked angriest, while those with crests just flushed them red with blood. Stupid cop and moron cop, however, simply strode in and stared at them as though they were all guilty of everything everywhere. There is actually a good deal of foreshadowing in that passage. And, yes, as is usual with my stories, the police are not the most pleasant of characters. I make no excuses. Get beaten by cops and your world-view changes. However, like all of the stories in the Speculative Humour Cycle, I do think this one is quite sellable and reading it for this, it still makes me, the author, smile and even laugh a few times. The porn scene is just bizarre and the ending goes off. I want this made into a film. By Asylum pictures, all cheap CGI and everything. Not the best, but definitely not too shabby. |
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