2122 words thus far. Two seemingly unrelated plot threads that take place in a world that is a fusion of fantasy and science fiction, where my imagination is boundless. It always sucks that so many fantasy writers out there allow themselves to be restrained by D&D rubbish, and not go further than that. And seriously, there are too many Pratchett wannabes out there whose smug and condescending prose style annoy more than amuse, but then, I was even worse than a Pratchett wannabe (since I've only read ONE Discworld book, and Good Omens, which he did with Neil Gaiman), I was a Pratchett wannabe wannabe whilst writing fanfics.
I was a fan of such writing, but when every Tom, Dick and Harry and their moms and grandmothers started praising praising Pratchett as if he were a god, not to say emulating his writing style as well, it was impossible for me not to feel mildly annoyed. It's not as if Discworld's the only fantasy series out there anyway.
Some excerpts of what I've written.
And...
And...
So yeah, that's what I can show you peeps thus far. I'll probably update you guys if you really give a hoot. Otherwise I'll just get myself some other guestbloggers to help out Guestblogger Justin.
I was a fan of such writing, but when every Tom, Dick and Harry and their moms and grandmothers started praising praising Pratchett as if he were a god, not to say emulating his writing style as well, it was impossible for me not to feel mildly annoyed. It's not as if Discworld's the only fantasy series out there anyway.
Some excerpts of what I've written.
The sorceress muttered and groaned in her sleep. Despite his annoyance, Erik remained silent, carefully searching for an inn. She was heavier than he had expected, and he was soon bathed in sweat, panting and gasping for air. Above him, flocks of dragons flew past, accompanied by dozens of witches in brooms, laughing and singing.
“Damn. Another one of those illegal races again.” A man nearby grunted, looking up into the sky. “Can’t even get a good night’s sleep these days because of them.”
And...
“Hmmm. This place IS confusing!” Eliar remarked aloud to himself.
High above him, the sounds of propeller whirling can be heard as gigantic airships flew by. News announcements and advertisements were made through their loud blaring speakers, everything mingling into a cacophony of noises. Agonizing to Eliar’s ears, but denizens of this city have probably gotten used to this, judging from the way everyone was moving about, minding their own business without paying the airship any attention.
Almost every single building in this city was tall enough to reach the skies, as their tips were already hidden beneath the clouds. But Eliar noticed that there was one white building in the distance that was a few times larger than the other structures around it, the light radiating from it so dazzlingly bright that it flooded through numerous streets, even though it was already a few hours after midnight.
Eliar consulted his map, and realized that it was the Imperial Palace, home of the Emperor, and the center of operations for the administration that governed the entire Shadar Empire, which, by today, had already spanned the entire continent due to its victories in the ongoing War.
And...
“Tough place to find a job?”
“For me, yeah.”
“How come?”
“I’m a poet.”
“Oh.” Eliar frowned, not understanding it at all. “But what’s wrong with being a poet?”
“It means that my only source of income was from people publishing my poems.” The man said, his eyes still fixed upon the pages of the newspaper. “And at times of war, people are disinterested in poems of tragedy and woe. They want something more cheerful, and asking me to write something cheerful would be ridiculous. I am not such a person.”
So yeah, that's what I can show you peeps thus far. I'll probably update you guys if you really give a hoot. Otherwise I'll just get myself some other guestbloggers to help out Guestblogger Justin.
