Three Thoughts For Aspiring Writers Of Speculative Fiction

Richard Dansky has what he calls three rude thoughts for aspiring writers of speculative fiction. Here they are:

  1. “If there are more proper nouns in your back cover text blurb than non-proper ones, you’re probably doing something wrong.”
  2. “Unspeakable evil probably doesn’t live in your mom’s basement.”
  3. “If your star-spanning galactic empire doesn’t have working cell phone technology, you may want to rethink things a bit.”

Dansky explains.

Biblical Words This Week

Anu Garg, the wordsmith behind Word of the Day, is doing biblical names turned words this week in honor of the 400th anniversary of the King James Bible. Today’s word is Jonah. Other words will likely be Jezebel, Judas, and Jeremiah or Jeremiad.

For better or for worse, but my money's on #2

What do I think of the royal wedding?

I think it’s very sweet that a whole country would get together to pretend a) that they believe in traditional marriage, and b) that they believe in the Christian religion, all just to please one old lady.

Frankly, in spite of my own snark, I’m tired of all the snide commentary about the event. I approve of tradition, and I am not at all offended that large amounts of public money are spent for ceremonial purposes. It’s one of the least corrosive uses for government funds I can think of.

I just can’t work up any enthusiasm. I have this feeling that tradition is the only thing driving this business–that nobody involved actually cares much about the sacred union of a man and woman in the eyes of God. That orchestra you hear playing the “Lohengrin” march? Their last gig was on the Titanic.

Super Cool Photo, Interface of Library

“The largest indoor photo in the world as of March 2011” is of the Strahov Philosophical Library. This photo is allows you to pan 360 degrees and zoom in incredibly close. Note the “Show Details” link in the lower left corner. It will take you around the room a bit. It’s beautiful, and I’ve been looking at many very ugly photos lately, so this one is refreshing today.

A bad day in the south

Our prayers certainly go out to residents of the southeast as they dig out from storm and tornado damage suffered yesterday. Nice to see that Phil, whose area was badly affected, is still blogging (as you may see below).

That was far from the only tragedy to happen yesterday, though. Rev. David Wilkerson, founder of the Times Square Church and Teen Challenge, and author of The Cross and the Switchblade, was killed yesterday in an automobile accident in Texas. Reports say the 79-year-old pastor swerved into the path of a truck, for reasons still unexplained. His wife, also in the car, remains hospitalized.

My personal belief is that social historians have paid far too little attention to Pastor Wilkerson and the monumental effect The Cross and the Switchblade—the book even more than the Pat Boone movie—had in the ’60s and ’70s. It was my own first exposure to Pentecostalism, a movement in which I participated for a time. I remember that even pastors who loathed the Charismatic movement encouraged us kids to read it. I still know at least one strongly anti-charismatic pastor who has continued to be a devoted follower of Wilkerson’s writings.

The drama of his account of his call to the mean streets of New York City, his initial humiliation and ultimate vindication, along with the apparent miracles that followed, held powerful fascination for young Christians. The story opened up unimagined spiritual possibilities to us, and convinced us that Christian life could be a meaningful adventure. I think The Cross and the Switchblade, more than any other single factor, was responsible for the Jesus Movement—for good and ill.

I know of no scandal in Pastor Wilkerson’s life. I found much humility and wisdom in his writings. I’d forgotten till today, but I actually heard him preach once, at a conference in Minneapolis back in the ’70s.

Rest in peace.

N.D. Wilson Talks About Adapting "The Great Divorce" for Screen

N.D. Wilson is working on a screenplay for C.S. Lewis’ The Great Divorce. He talks to Justin Taylor about it.

How do you take a set of episodes and turn them into a coherent story while being faithful and without ruffling too many feathers?

Oh, I’m not afraid to ruffle feathers. But any nervous fans out there should know that I’m as dog-loyal to Lewis and his vision as any writer could be. Where I’m adding and expanding and shaping, I am constantly trying to check myself against Lewis’ broader imagination as represented in his collected works—not simply this little volume.

I will admit that when I began the adaptation, I felt like I was jumping off a cliff into (hopefully deep) mysterious waters—you can never completely predict what will happen on impact. But now that I’ve impacted and finished the first draft of the script, I can say that (as a Lewis fan), I’m really, really happy with it. And from here, I hope it only gets better.

My day in the Insta-sun

Today was a big day—it was the day I got a link on Instapundit.

I’d noticed that people (usually publishers) send Glenn Reynolds books—often in the Fantasy and Science Fiction fields—and he posts an Amazon link. So I sent him a book, along with a short note mentioning my blogging credentials, and crossed my fingers. Today it paid off.

We sold off our entire Amazon stock within a very short time. Unfortunately, our Amazon stock wasn’t very large. But still it’s something. Maybe I’ll acquire another influential fan or two.

What’s that you say? Not enough Viking content in this post? Well, we can’t have that.

Here’s a video of a couple Scandinavian musicians doing a song called “Ormen Lange,” which I’ve liked for a long time. I first heard it done by a Norwegian folk group called “Vandrerne,” but their version doesn’t seem to be online. The Vandrerne arrangement was a little more processed, and I frankly prefer it, but this isn’t bad.

The song is a “ring dance” song from the Faeroe Islands. The title, “Ormen Lange,” means “The Long Serpent,” and it refers to King Olaf Trygvesson’s great war ship, which I believe I mention in The Year Of the Warrior. In the tradition of Faeroese ring dance songs, this seems to be a very long one. Only the first few verses are here—they tell how King Olaf calls his men to join him in a voyage in his ship, and his men enthusiastically respond that they’ll willingly follow him “into war or peace.” Then they launch the ship and set sail, with the king at the helm. I assume the full version goes on to tell about Olaf’s death at the Battle of Svold.

The chorus goes:

“The dance glimmers in the hall, and we dance in a ring.

Gladly ride Norwegian men to battle (the assembly of Hild).”

Myths, Urban Legends, and Untruths

Jared links to a list of Christian urban legends. These are things like the Eye of the Needle gate outside Jerusalem and a rope tied to the high priest when we goes into the Holy of Holies (in case he dies there). I’m most disappointed by this one: “Voltaire’s house is now owned by a Bible-printing publisher.” I thought that was true, at least, that it was true within 100 years of Voltaire’s death. Bum.

Discussion continues at Trevin Wax’s blog.

Thorarin's foot

One thing I neglected to tell you about, when I reported yesterday on my Viking weekend, was the singular honor paid to me during the Great Feast held on Saturday night. I was given a seat at the table of honor, which is pretty cool if you’re a Viking buff.

The feast was impressive. I over-ate. Almost all the food was certified “available” to the Vikings, but I suspect few real Vikings ever enjoyed a meal that tasty.

Part of the programme called for “the passing of the horn,” a tradition in which a horn of mead is passed around the hall, and each participant, when the horn comes to him, gives a greeting, tells a story, sings a song (nobody did that), or proposes a toast. I told one of my favorite true Viking stories, “The Tale of Thorarin Nefjolfsson’s Foot,” as recorded in the Saga of Saint Olaf. I give it below, more or less as I related it Saturday night.

The king and his men were in Tunsberg [a market town near present-day Oslo] one summer night. Among his retinue was Thorarin Nefjolfsson, an Icelandic merchant. Thorarin was a tall, thin man with a long nose and large hands and feet. He was not famed for his physical beauty.

The nights are short in Norway that time of year, and King Olaf woke before the rest of his men and looked around him in the morning light. He noticed that one of Thorarin’s feet had stuck out from under his blanket. He contemplated that foot for some time.

When his men woke up, King Olaf said to them, “Men, I have been awake a while now, and I’ve seen a sight worth seeing. A man’s foot so ugly that I’d be willing to bet there isn’t an uglier foot in the whole town.”

All the men looked at Thorarin’s foot, and agreed that it was indeed the ugliest they’d ever seen.

But Thorarin himself said, “I’ll take that bet, my king. There are few things in the world so strange that you can’t find a match for them. I happen to know where I can find an uglier foot right here in town.”

“It’s a bet,” said the king. “Whoever loses will have to perform a service for the winner.”

Then Thorarin pushed his other foot out from under the blanket. It was no prettier than the first, and on top of that the big toe was missing.

“I win the bet!” he said.

But King Olaf said, “Oh no. The first foot had five hideous toes, while this one has only four. Therefore I win the bet.”

The moral is: Never gamble with a politician.

Book Reviews, Creative Culture