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Bibelots and Baubles
by Shauna Roberts
In a slow, cramped, scholarly hand, he printed the item acquisition number at the top of the form, along with a brief descriptor: “mechanical hummingbird with gems.”
Buddy Jumphigh, curator of bibelots and baubles at the Third Smithsonian Institute, sighed and jammed his pince-nez onto his snout. There was no point in continuing to sniff the breezes wafting past his open window; no point in melancholic reminisces of times past when the Mall thronged with people; no point in whining, as he longed to do: he could not avoid cataloging the horrifying object before him any longer.
In a slow, cramped, scholarly hand, he printed the item acquisition number at the top of the form, along with a brief descriptor: “mechanical hummingbird with gems.”
Buddy measured the bird and then consulted several reference books, trying not to tear the fragile, ancient pages. Still, one yellow corner crumbled into pieces that scented the air with the nostalgic smell of mildew, decay, and rags.
He brushed the scraps away. He entered a description into the box on the form and then leaned over to sniff and lick the hummingbird. He continued his exam, entering each detail on the form until it was completely filled out:
* * *
Description
Life-size replica (to the eye but not to the other senses) of a male Calliope hummingbird (Stellula calliope) covered in amethysts, peridots, opals, and crystals, with obsidian eyes and cast-brass beak and legs
Impressions on acquisition
Smell: graphite; a faint scent of alien skin oil
Taste: aluminum; brass; graphite (used as lubricant); dust (primarily Wisconsinan Outwash and Wisconsinan Lacustrine soils); beeswax (perhaps polished by a previous collector?)
Sound: whirred as it tried to activate
Touch: hard; rough; sharp edges; temperature range over surface was cold to ambient
Sight: sparkly
Details
Condition: good: a few gems are missing, and beak is bent
Status: deactivated
Provenance: well documented
Value: priceless
Components: The mechanical parts and three lasers within this item make it surprisingly heavy for its small size, about nine ounces. Of the estimated one hundred thousand produced, only nine are known to be extant, of which this one is in the best condition. Collected by an exoarchaeologist in the rubble of Chicago.
The remaining gems are 92 small baguette-cut amethysts on the chest, 998 tiny uncut peridots on the head, back, and wings, and 901 opal cabochons on the underparts, all lab-made and of low (excelsior-5) quality; 2 fine (excelsior-15) quality natural obsidian cabochons serve as eyes; and 27 superior (excelsior-25) quality natural rock crystals of perfect clarity highlight the eyes and are interspersed among the opals.
* * *
Sighing, Buddy dropped the marker from his cramped paw and shook the uncomfortable pince-nez from his muzzle. Now the terrible thing would go on display with the other great prizes of the Smithsonian’s collections. He gave it one last look and barked at it. “Bad bird! Bad bird! Bad bird!”
He himself would never look at the bird after it went on display. He hated it with a fervor: fewer than one hundred thousand of the alien weapons had drive the humans to extinction.
As curator of bibelots and baubles, he had access to records forbidden to the general public. His ancestors had played along with the aliens for generations after they’d eliminated humanity, receiving genetic enhancements with sloppy grins and happy tail wags, biding their time and allying with their ancient feline archenemies, who slunk in the shadows and ate rats and cockroaches.
Then, in the largest, bloodiest revolution in Earth’s history, the two species rose up and enacted retribution.
Once the aliens were dead and eaten, his people reconstructed human society, with themselves in human roles. Their cat allies reclaimed their traditional places before fires and in sunny windows. All was well again.
Except that his people were dying out.
The public knew nothing about the slow, but relentless, decline in population. Several generations of Smithsonian scientists had worked out the cause. No cure would ever be possible: his people were a symbiotic species lacking its symbiote.
They were dying of grief.
A howl overtook him, and then another, and another.
Throughout the crumbling building, other curators and staff joined in, their calls of anguish for their lost companions and guardians echoing against stone walls and leaking out cracked windows into the humid night air of the Mall.
* * *
About the Author
Shauna Roberts is an award-winning author of both fiction and nonfiction. She writes in several genres. Her novels are Like Mayflies in a Stream (historical fiction), Claimed by the Enemy (historical fiction), Ice Magic, Fire Magic (fantasy), and Log Cabin: Erikka (romance, to come in 2019). In addition, she has published more than a thousand nonfiction articles, three nonfiction books, and several short stories and novellas. Roberts is a graduate of the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers’ Workshop. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, quilting, embroidery, growing herbs and roses, and playing in early music ensembles. She has lived all over the United States, along with two stints in Bordeaux, France, and now resides with her husband and two cats in the Blue Ridge Mountains. To sign up for her newsletter, click here.
Cat of Thunder
by John Taloni
“Mirru had seen enough to conclude that the battle would stay contained on the field when the fire giants made a rush forward.”
Mirru padded around her nest, ears twitching. Her tail flicked back and forth as she heard distant thuds. Her kittens curled against each other, sleeping fitfully. Their paws pressed against one another as they cuddled together in the underbrush, hidden in a clump of gorse bushes.
A column of smoke rose in the distance. The faint whiff of its far-off smell caused Mirru’s nose to wrinkle. Then a louder noise cracked the night – an explosion. She could hear shouting and observed a whirl of activity. The figures had two legs and two arms. People, of one variety or another. One of her kittens woke and mewled, then settled back to sleep.
Mirru sat and licked a paw, then washed her face with it, contemplating. Her kittens were old enough to walk, but just a short distance. They could not easily relocate away from whatever created the noise and smoke. She would investigate. It was time to hunt anyway.
Mirru climbed up the small incline of the nest and turned to look back. Her kittens remained asleep. They should be safe for the time being. The yellow of the gorse blended well with their dull orange fur, giving them some camouflage from predators.
Mirru sniffed the air. There were some prey scents, but they were all old and distant. She padded towards the encampment. As she went she searched for newer scents, but they were scarce. Birds had flown away, or hid in their nests high up in trees. Mice, voles and similar animals had gone to ground, difficult to track in their burrows. Her stomach growled. Milk for her kittens would be thin and low tonight, unless she could find food. Nor was prey easy to find. A dry summer had parched the forest, leaving prey with less to eat.
The forest came to an end within a short walk of the encampment. Mirru walked up to the last tree between herself and the group of people, and watched. One group of people walked around putting up tents with wooden poles and canvas in a rough semicircle. A much larger group worked on a shield barrier towards the front. Another tended a fire in the center. Large hunks of meat hung on spits, turning through the efforts of a single person.
Mirru crept closer and hid behind a tent. The meat smelled delicious. If she could get some scraps…
Her focus broke as a loud noise assaulted her ears. It came from the front. Several people dropped a load of logs in a heap, the wood clattering to the ground. One of the people from the tent-making group separated out and approached the log pile. He drew a small horn from within his tunic and blew.
A figure arose from a stump and came forward. “As if I would need a horn to hear your call, Heimdallr,” he said, joining the other figure.
“I thought perhaps you were sleeping there, Thunderer,” replied the other.
“Mayhap I need my rest for the battle on the morrow,” he replied.
“For some measly fire giants?” responded Heimdallr. “Surtur is nowhere near. We shall easily beat back this incursion. Even if this land is drier than our usual.”
“If it be so easy, perhaps you should be back at your post,” replied the Thunderer.
“I can see the Bifrost from here,” replied Heimdallr. “And you can use my strong arm to dispatch the group quickly.”
“A bit dull holding watch every day on the Bifrost, eh?” said Thor
Heimdallr rolled his eyes. “You have no idea. As for the battle, Odinson, your father does not even see the need to attend himself, but only sends you, Thor.”
“Perhaps he seeks to avoid manual labor,” replied Thor with a grimace.
“Yes, well, as to that?” Heimdallr glanced over at the log pile.
“Hmm. As you say,” replied Thor. He pulled a small mallet from his belt. As Mirru watched he rubbed it and it grew larger. Soon it attained the size of a fully formed war hammer.
“It is a shame to use Mjölnir for so base a use, yet the shield walls must be made,” Thor said. He approached the pile and selected a log. “That one. Over there.” He indicated a spot and a group of men placed the log in position. Thor leapt into the air and dealt a mighty blow to the top of the log. It sank into the ground, standing firm.
Then Thor sank another, and another. Within the span of minutes the frame of a wall took form. Thor returned to his seat as the others filled in the rest of the shield wall.
The sun dipped towards the horizon as the people bustled around, putting the final touches on their encampment. As twilight hit they assembled to eat.
Mirru’s caution struggled with her need for food. She slunk into the camp, hiding behind tents and piles of equipment. She stayed in the shadows as she crept closer to the men. Finally one tore off a morsel of meat and dropped some on the ground. Mirru darted forward and picked it up in her mouth, then ran back to the shadows to eat.
Her immediate hunger sated, Mirru stepped closer to the group. Her fear went down as she got closer with no negative effects. Another person dropped a piece of meat and she leapt forward again, dragging it behind a tent to eat.
Thor nudged Heimdallr in the shoulder. “We have a visitor.”
“Yes, I saw her approach some time ago,” Heimdallr replied.
“Think you that Freya watches us? Though I see not her cat-drawn carriage near.”
“Not tonight,” said Heimdallr. “This is a common forest cat. She is harmless.”
“Why here?” Thor asked. “She should be hunting where people are not. Especially warriors. We are not especially gentle.”
“We have scared away all the game,” said Heimdallr. “Well, her kind of game anyway. And she has kittens to nurse, not far away.”
“Ah, a family protector!” said Thor. “Why did you not say so.” He ripped off a hunk of meat and tossed it towards Mirru.” She emerged from the shadows and took a few tentative steps toward it. One of the men in the camp threw a bone into the fire, and Mirru stepped back, frightened at the noise and sparks as the bone struck a log.
“Don’t be scared, little one,” called out Heimdallr. He threw another, smaller piece of meat towards her. She trotted forward and quickly ate it, then went to the larger piece that Thor had thrown.
Mirru walked up before them and let out one loud meow. She looked up at Heimdallr with plaintive eyes, then tentatively reached out a paw towards his hand, which held a bone full of meat. Heimdallr pulled off a larger chunk and dropped it on the ground. She ate swiftly, tearing the meat into smaller chunks and swallowing quickly.
When she finished with that piece, Thor pulled some more from his portion and threw it to her. She ate more slowly. That was sufficient food to sate her hunger. She stood and walked a swift, friendly brush against each man’s legs, then bounded back into the forest.
Moments later Mirru arrived back at her lair. Her kittens were awake and restless. As she approached the nest they mewed plaintively.
Mirru licked them all in greeting and lay down in the back of the nest. Her milk had not yet come in, but with the meal she had recently completed, it would not be long. She let her kittens snuggle in and nurse what they could. By the middle of the night they would be as well sated as she was now.
*
Mirru slept soundly, barely waking for the midnight feeding her kittens demanded, as they instinctively knew when her milk was ready for them. She dozed, partly awake, as dawn broke across the heavens.
A burst of light, far brighter than the break of day, pushed her to full consciousness. A split second later noise and vibration roiled the landscape. Her kittens woke, mewling piteously. She gave each several fast licks, then lay down for a quick feed.
Moments later Mirru was on her way to investigate the situation. If it was bad enough she would have to move her kittens. That would be a difficult proposition. Possibly they would become so scared that one or more would run off. With four to manage she wasn’t sure she could move them all in safety. Better to keep them in the nest, if that were possible.
She reached the edge of the encampment several minutes later. The people stood behind the shields and made occasional forays out into the open field. There they fought gigantic beings of fire. It seemed to be a stalemate. One side would be forced back, then another, neither gaining an advantage.
Mirru had seen enough to conclude that the battle would stay contained on the field when the fire giants made a rush forward. The dry brush seemed to add to their substance, making them flare more brightly. Were they to break through, their burning essence could reach her nest in moments and destroy it with their flames.
She then saw the man with the hammer stride forward. He knelt and struck the handle on the ground. The skies darkened, clouds forming with great rapidity. A single lightning bolt seared between earth and sky, passing through the hammer. Torrents of rain began to fall shortly thereafter.
“Piece of cake,” he said, rising. The fire giants shrank back, the rain affecting their bodies. They formed a solid wall of flame as they moved back.
Mirru remained behind a tree, watching carefully. The person with a horn gazed towards the other side. “Their bodies block me,” he reported. “I cannot see–”
His voice cut off as an object streaked toward their camp at high velocity. It struck behind the shield wall the people had so carefully prepared the day before. As it hit the ground it exploded in a vast ball of searing light and crushing noise. Mirru pulled back behind the tree, covering her head with her paws.
After the explosion passed she looked up. The tree had been mostly destroyed, with only the trunk left. Even that was partially gone, with the front now smoking.
Mirru looked towards the camp. None of the people stirred, not even the strong one with the hammer. Were they dead? She could not tell.
The fire giants marched towards the camp. Their flaming bodies, now fully extended, burned everything in their path. She would run, but it seemed there was nowhere to run to.
Light from the flames glinted on something in the camp. Mirru looked over. The hammer. The fire made a ruddy dance over the metal’s semi-polished surface. A thought lay hidden just below the surface of her mind. Something about the hammer.
The fire glinted again off the metal, giving the illusion that the hammer changed form. Then she remembered. The hammer had been small when the man pulled it from his belt. It could change size. It seemed to control the elements, or at least some of them. But what could she do with it?
Mirru wasn’t sure, but she had to try something. The fire giants would destroy everything in their path. Herself, her kittens, dead. Even the prey that she ate, she respected and wanted to live, if only so she could hunt again.
She sprang forward with all the speed she could muster. In a flash she stood at the hammer’s side. She reached out to rub it with her paw and–
A flash of light blinded her. Yet she was not knocked out. Mirru came back to her senses almost immediately. Yet those senses seemed expanded.
Nor was that all that had changed. Her front paws had extended somewhat and she found she could grasp the hammer’s handle. She picked it up in both paws and leaned back on her haunches. The hammer seemed curiously light.
Mirru went to walk forward and found her torso elongated. Instead of walking on all fours, she balanced on her back two legs. The hammer seemed to be whispering suggestions into her expanded mind.
I can strike like the person did, she thought. With a meow that sounded more like a roar, she bounded forward. The first group of fire giants was almost upon the camp. She bashed one in the leg, causing it to fall on the ground. She ran to its face and raked its face, moving quickly around the flames to the substance beneath. On to the next, where she leapt up and hit it in the knee. At the next one she singed her fur a bit while hitting it in the shin.
A vision of a whirl of air appeared unbidden in her mind. She stopped running and twirled the hammer in the air. A small cyclone formed above the whirling motion. With a thrust from her forepaw the mass of air headed towards the fire giants, disrupting their advance.
Mirru found herself panting from the effort. Fatigue threatened to overwhelm her. Meanwhile the main force of fire giants had advanced down the plain, towards the camp. They were too many to fight individually.
The hammer whispered suggestions in her head. She remembered what the man had done with the handle. Mirru ran to a clear space, giving herself time to kneel without being attacked. She howled at the sky, emitting an inchoate “Mrrraaaaawwwwwwrrrrrr!” With a decisive thrust she hit the handle on the ground, twice.
Clouds formed immediately. Rain fell in torrents. It slicked the ground around the fire giants, dampening their flame and making them lose their footing. In the back the bigger fire giants lost some of their size as the flame fought against the rain.
And yet… the rain stayed only so long as she could concentrate. Though she held the hammer, her kitty body contained much less strength than its usual wielder. The fatigue made her lose focus. Black spots formed in front of her eyes. She headed back towards the encampment and its shields to gather herself. After only a few steps she passed out and collapsed on the ground. The transformation undid itself and she was a regular cat again.
At the camp, the rain and wind had started to revive the men. Heimdallr was first on his feet. He pulled the horn from his belt and blew. Others got up, groggily. The bomb blast still affected them, but they were able to stand – and to see the advancing army of Fire Giants.
Thor stood up and noticed the lack of a very important weapon. “Mjölnir! To me!” he cried out.
Out in the field, the hammer rose, then twisted so that the strap wrapped around Mirru’s paw. It flew through the air, placing the handle into Thor’s outstretched hand – and the unconscious cat directly onto his chest.
Thor looked at Mirru, puzzled. Then he lay the cat down gently behind him, out of the way of the crush of warriors.
The Aesir charged forward. Thor led the group partway up the field. Then, on his command the group pivoted and held their ground. He called down the lightning onto the fire giants. Torrential rain followed. Their flame lessened and the giants shrunk. Moments later they retreated in defeat. The day belonged to the defenders of Asgard.
*
Mirru came back to consciousness in her nest, her kittens cuddled around her. When she woke one of them began licking her singed fur. Her mind, now returned to feline normal, could barely process the previous events. She mainly knew that she was exhausted and hungry. Her kittens would have little milk until she hunted, but where she would find prey after the loud, noisy battle had scared them off she did not know.
Looking up from her bed of leaves, she realized she would not have to hunt. A plump rat and some juicy voles awaited her at the top of the nest. Who had provided them she did not know. She was grateful, though, and devoured a vole and half of the rat. The remainder she would eat after some rest.
Several hours later the sun set. Mirru watched it idly through the trees, following as the sun slid down the firmament. Full darkness took over. She ate again, then settled in with her kittens to sleep.
She was safe for now… but would it last? The fire giants might return at any time. Without the people to oppose them, what would happen to the land?
The next morning, the forest had mostly recovered. Birds flew from branch to branch, seeking food. Small ground prey came out of their holes. Mirru hunted, and the events of the previous day slid from her mind.
So it went for several days, until one morning Mirru saw two chariots flying across the sky. One flew through the efforts of two goats, loudly bleating and snorting as they went. The other was pulled by cats that looked much like herself. Mirru went down to the field to see more.
The goat-pulled chariot curved around in a long, powerful turn and landed on the field near where the encampment had stood. The goats chuffed as its driver stepped out. “Toothgnasher, Toothgrinder, some good eating here,” he said as he released them from their harnesses.
The cat-drawn vessel slowed mid-air and took a much more sedate curve, landing lightly some yards away from the goats. A woman stepped out. She wore a dress of light material, beige in color, with light brown trimming. A circlet of gold sat atop her head, keeping her hair from blowing in the soft wind. She made a gesture and the cats walked free, leaving the chariot and their straps behind.
“Hello, little one,” Mirru heard in her head. The words seemed strange, and Mirru realized that the woman had not spoken. Mirru hung back at the edge of the forest, apprehensive.
One of the cats left the woman’s side and came over to Mirru. He stood and let her sniff him, then as a courtesy she did the same.
“Join us,” said the woman by the same strange mechanism. Mirru felt safe and so padded over. The woman chanted a few words and made a gesture. A blanket appeared and landed open on the grass. Three low stools materialized as well.
The woman sat and smiled, waiting. The man thumped down with a grunt. Mirru’s head felt strange, and she realized that the man was the one called “Thor.” His hammer lay attached to his belt in its small form, as it had before the battle.
The woman gestured at the third stool. Mirru understood the invitation and jumped onto it. “Welcome,” said the woman.
“Hello,” replied Mirru. “My head feels strange. Why are you here? How is it that I understand you?”
“I’ll take the first part of that,” said Thor. “A few days ago you gave us a boon. And you showed bravery. Bravery we wish to reward. This is Freya. She has somewhat better understanding of cats than I.” Thor waved towards the two cats who had drawn her chariot. They mostly ignored Thor but twitched ears at Mirru in acknowledgment.
The woman nodded at Thor. “He has asked me to assist with some magic that he finds exceeds his own skills. The hammer can translate battle speak, but we need to go beyond that.”
“I remember the battle,” Mirru communicated. “Even then, though, I did not think as I do now.”
“It is temporary,” said Freya. “We want you to understand the nature of the gift we bring.”
“Yes,” said Thor. “We can only offer. You can choose, or even refuse.”
“I have my own realm,” said Freya. “It is called Folkvang. There are many pleasant fields to play in. Cats are abundant. You are welcome to join us there.”
Mirru thought for a moment. “That sounds like a nice place to visit. I would like to come for a while, but only after my kittens are grown. And this is my home. I would want to return here.”
Freya nodded, and Thor took up the thread of conversation. “If protecting your home is what you want, you have certainly earned a boon.” At these words the hammer glinted. Mirru sat up straight, remembering the battle and the feel of the hammer in her… hands?
Thor reached into a pouch and drew out a small version of the hammer. “This is yours for the asking.”
“And how would I wield it?” asked Mirru, though she could scarcely keep from licking her lips in excitement as she stared.
“The hammer can be imbued with a small amount of Mjölnir’s enchantment,” said Thor. “You would not transform as much as before, but you would grow to twice your current size. It would not last long, or else the magic might burn out your mortal frame. But you would have the power again, for a short time.”
“How will I carry it?” she asked.
“I take it you are decided?” asked Thor.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Stretch out a claw,” said Freya. Mirru poked out the middle claw of her right front paw. Freya passed a hand over Mjölnir and a faint impression of a cloud formed. It picked up the small hammer, then went to Mirru’s outstretched claw and coalesced around it, turning the claw silver. The small hammer disappeared.
“Tap twice,” said Thor. Mirru did so and a small thunderclap pealed. Mirru sat on the stool in her large form. “Mrrraaawwr!” she said in pleasure, twirling the hammer in her paw-hands.
“You will be the protector of this area,” said Thor. “Simply think, and Mjölnir will relay your thoughts to me. And I believe this area might have a bit more rain to feed the plants that sustain your prey,” he said with a grin.
“Call me Silverclaw,” replied Mirru. Now she could truly protect her kittens. Even the prey would benefit from her watchful eye. No fire giants would threaten them again.
* * *
About the Author
John Taloni lives in Southern California where he may or may not have portals to various Nordic locations hidden around the home. His two house cats, Logan and Shadow, seem to head off to adventures daily. Logan returns regularly for cuddles, kitty treats, and to occasionally sheath his claws in his human servant.
In addition to “Cat of Thunder,” Taloni has written “Cat Gardian” about a Nordic feline who defends Asgard and opens the Rainbow Bridge for all pets. He also has a two-book “Cats of Space” series with Uplifted cats on a space station.
Taloni has been reading SFF since the age of eight when he stumbled across a copy of Alexei Panshin’s “Rite of Passage.” His major influences include Anne McCaffrey and Larry Niven. Taloni is a long-time attendee at SF conventions, and he met his wife while dressed as a Pernese dragon rider. Their daughter asked at the age of four if they could watch more of the show with “the robots that say ‘exterminate,’ and the entire family has happily watched Doctor Who together ever since. Taloni is a member of the Science Fiction Writers of America (SFWA.)
Trailer: Ape Out
New video game where you play an escaped ape trying to get away from his captors but what's amazing is it's all in the style of a Saul Bass 1960s movie title sequence down to the jazz soundtrack. If you are not up on Saul Bass: https://youtu.be/aPBWvfMKV10
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Are You Offended?
Look, we’re just going to quote this direct from the folks over at Cartoonbrew — no way we could explain it any better. “Four new animated series based on Marvel characters are in the works at Hulu. The shows will collectively lead up to a special event bringing them all together titled The Offenders. All of these projects will target mature audiences. Jordan Blum (American Dad!) and comedian/actor Patton Oswalt are writing M.O.D.O.K., about an evil mastermind with limited body mass and big plans. Hit Monkey, with Josh Gordon and Will Speck as writers, follows a Japanese snow monkey transformed into a vengeful assassin in Tokyo’s criminal underworld. Set in Los Angeles, Tigra & Dazzler Show follows a pair of ‘woke’ female heroes pushing to stand out in a city full talented people. Comedian Chelsea Handler and Erica Rivinoja (Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs 2) have been tasked with writing the project. Lastly, there is Howard the Duck, centered on the publisher’s notorious anthropomorphic bird trapped in the human world. Director Kevin Smith (Clerks) and Dave Willis (creator, Aqua Teen Hunger Force) are writing this dark comedy and will also executive produce. Comic writer Jeph Loeb (also a producer on Smallville and Lost) will act as executive producer on all four projects, as well as the crossover finale. No writers have been announced yet for the crossover finale, in which all of these characters will ‘form a team no one asked for’ to save the world.” Got all that? No word yet on a release date for these shows, but we’ll be watching!
image c. 2019 Hulu
Chimera
Today we have here a student film from the ESMA [1] animation school. I kinda wanted to get a few more avians up here. [1] https://www.esma-artistique.com/en/
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Member Spotlight: Gre7g Luterman
Gre7g Luterman is an author with Thurston Howl Publications that’s been writing since the late 70s. We get a chance to speak with him a bit about his writing.
Tell us about your most recent project (written or published). What inspired it?
I just had two books come out this past month: Fair Trade which is the conclusion to the Kanti Cycle trilogy, and Reaper’s Lottery which is my first SciFi murder mystery. The mystery has been an incredibly challenging project and I spent two years bringing it from conception to conclusion, finally publishing the seventh version of the story, if you can believe that!
Science fiction is a wonderful thing to write. You take our known universe and tweak one little thing or set up a scenario we aren’t familiar with and then follow the changes through, seeing how it affects each aspect of the characters’ lives. If the krakun tricked the geroo into working as their slaves, how would that impact the geroo’s religious beliefs? If the geroo live on a spaceship where the number of crew isn’t allowed to increase, would that lead to euthanasia and a lottery for selecting who gets to be parents next? If there was never an unwanted pregnancy, how would that change the culture?
And then taking this to the next step of making it a murder mystery, you get to ask questions like, With so much inequity, who would be pushed to murder? Why would they kill? Who would they kill? And what would they hope to accomplish by killing? This is great fun for the writer and, without a doubt, it translates into a really fun ride for the reader as well.
What’s your writing process like? Are you a “pantser,” an outliner, or something in between? How do you find that this helps and/or hurts your writing style?
I am the epitome of the pantser! I never have any idea where a story is headed until it gets there. Oh, I’ve tried to outline where the story must be going but, as soon as I do, the story will immediately turn in a different direction. If I try to force it to where I’ve outlined then the final story will not be a fun read.
My writing process is to make a new character and write a few scenes for him/er, try to find out what is interesting about them, why the reader should like them, should care about what happens to them. I toss a complication into their life and rely on my intuition as to whether there is a whole story there. Since I don’t know where it’s headed, I have to rely on gut feel.
Then I let them wander. I let them build a support network of people who care, who try to help them cope and overcome. I don’t worry about whether they’re going the right direction or not. Then, eventually, I’ll round that final bend and see the destination. Aha! So, that’s where this was going all along.
I finish up the draft, then move it to the right half of the screen and open a blank document on the left. And then I rewrite the entire story. I straighten out the wandering. I add bits here and there so that insignificant events become important if they contribute to the destination. I don’t show people my first draft. Until I do a rewrite—a version written with the destination in mind—then the draft isn’t worth reading.
What’s your favorite kind of story to write?
Romance with a splash of danger, definitely! Prepare for a meandering explanation of why…
My goal is always to keep the reader from putting the book down. The best way to accomplish that goal is for the reader to worry about what will happen to the main character. Readers worry about characters when two things happen: first, they have to love and care about the MC and second, the MC has to be in peril.
Love is the most powerful and pure of all emotions. When we show how the main character is lovable and worthy of another character’s love (not just the main character loving a secondary character), then the reader will love and care about out MC. Then when we put this lovesick character into peril we not only make the reader worry about what will happen to them but we propel them into action, driving them to … wherever the heck this story happens to be headed, since I couldn’t see it from the beginning.
This is the recipe for a great story that will be loved by those who read it.
All of your recent novels are set in the Hayven Celestia universe created by Rick Griffin (of Housepets! fame). Why write in his universe, and how well has that collaboration worked?
The why is an easy one. When I read Rick’s short story Ten Thousand Miles Up, I was immediately fascinated by the world he had created—furry heroes that were tiny compared to their masters but yet kept enslaved with a light touch. He got me thinking about a generation ship with an endless mission and how society would have to change to adapt to it. Plus, his story focused on all the important players like the captain and the commissioner, but my curiosity is always for what life is like for the common guy in any society. And like any good fanfiction writer, when the canon doesn’t give me what I want, I feel compelled to make it up!
Rick is not only great fun to work with, he’s incredibly frustrating. He’s so very creative, so very imaginative, and just as stubborn as I am about how I think things should go. So it was only natural that we’d bump heads constantly. I thought collaborating would be like us finishing each other’s sentences or maybe alternating chapters or something. We tried that and it was readily apparent that our styles and recalcitrant natures would never allow it.
Fortunately, we worked out an informal agreement where he’d write his stories one way, I’d do mine my way, we seriously consider each other’s opinions, but don’t feel compelled that every aspect of the universe remain identical across our stories.
What has most influenced your work? Is an author, a title, or something else?
I’d have to say books by Nancy A. Collins. Collins mostly writes about my favorite subject to read, monsters in the modern day—vampires, werewolves, and demons hiding in a familiar setting—but she has an amazing ability to make the reader care about the characters. I want a book that can ruin my life, make me stay up until 2am, completely wrecked because I have to go to work in the morning but I still need to know what happens in the story.
Plus, Collins is willing to give a main character the perfect love, then wad the lover up and throw him away! Oh man, I just can’t do that. I can throw away a secondary character’s lover, but the main character’s? Yikes. If I killed off Tish (Kanti’s true love) I’d cry for days.
So yes, if any writer out there has influenced me and represents a direction that I’d like my work to grow, it would be her.
What’s the last book you read that you really loved?
I’m going to give you two instead of one, because I read them around the same time and loved completely different things about these two completely different books. The first was A Fire Upon the Deep by Vernor Vinge. Despite not loving the characters—sadly—I loved the SciFi of this novel. Not only were the tines a fascinating species whose biological differences led to lots of differences in how they do things, the zones of thought was a brilliant creation that I know I could never equal in my own writing. Plus, the scale of the story was so big that I would never even dare to tackle it myself.
The second was a kids’ book called Too Many Curses by A. Lee Martinez. This was a charming romp filled with charming characters. I don’t think I was ever truly worried about whether the characters would succeed or fail—it is a kids’ book, after all—but I couldn’t help smiling at every single thing they said. Imagine if Harry Potter had been written by Ursula Vernon and you’d have this world.
The hero from your Kanti Cycle trilogy, Kanti, does a bunch of un-heroic things. Does that make him a bad hero?
Perhaps? Kanti’s never been a particularly heroic geroo. He’s not the smartest, the bravest, or the most talented around. He’s never dreamed of being a hero. He just wanted to keep his head down and remained unnoticed.
As a writer, I’ve always bristled at perfect heroes—you know the type, the Richard Rahl who at every junction always makes the correct decision, no matter the cost. That’s not Kanti. Despite the furry pelt, he’s very human. He gets scared and his first impulse is to run or to keep his loved ones from heading into danger, even if that’s morally the wrong thing to do.
But on the bright side, that gives Kanti an awful lot of room to grow. And though he’s still no John McClane, the Kanti at the end of the series is certainly a lot more heroic than the one at the beginning.
Advice for other writers?
Yes! First, don’t write about your fursona or an O.C. that you’ve been RPing for ages. Make up a new character when you start writing the book. Then fall in love with the character while you write. The reader needs to fall in love with this character for them to love your book, and if you fall in love with them while writing, then the reader will probably do the same while reading it. If you write about a character you already love, then chances are you will skimp on that romance, leaving the reader out in the cold.
Next, hurt the character, hurt them badly, and threaten to hurt them more if they don’t accomplish something in a given amount of time. This makes the reader worry about your MC, propels them into action, and gives them a ticking clock so they can’t drag their ass about it.
Finally, at the end of the story, give the MC something back. And crucially, if you hurt the character by taking something away, make sure the reward for accomplishing your quest is something different, something unexpected, or something they didn’t even know they wanted. Giving them what you took away—like returning Dorothy to Kansas after living in a magical land—is not a very satisfying conclusion.
Where can readers find your work?
You can look for Skeleton Crew, Small World, Fair Trade, and Reaper’s Lottery on my Amazon Author’s Page, my old and dusty fanfiction at fanfiction.net, and keep an eye out for my new books by watching my @Gre7gL Twitter account. And again, don’t hesitate to contact me by email. I really do enjoy discussing the craft.
What’s your favorite thing about the furry fandom? Why write furry?
Oh, that’s an easy one. When you’re a furry, you’re passionate about furry characters. Maybe you’re misanthropic and think furry characters would be superior to humans, perhaps you romanticize them, are aroused by them, or maybe you think the best monsters are ones that are covered in fur. It doesn’t matter why but you have a passion for them.
And when you’re a furry and a writer, you want to share those characters and the dramas in your head with other furries. You want other furries to feel that same agony when your lovable characters fail, the same elation when they succeed.
When your passion is furry, that’s when you should write for furries. Writing outside your passions may create something so-so but when you write what you love, you can make something amazing!
213 - Fur Squared 2019 LIVE! - YouTube: www.youtube.com/user/DraggetShow Patreo…
YouTube: www.youtube.com/user/DraggetShow Patreon: www.patreon.com/thedraggetshow www.draggetshow.com Be sure to check our website for all Things Dragget Show! Podcasts, videos, merch and more! 213 - Fur Squared 2019 LIVE! - YouTube: www.youtube.com/user/DraggetShow Patreo…
France 3 ‘Marmots’ Idents
For several years France 3 [1] has had original idents with CG animated animals. Here is a collection of their marmots indents where they re-create various movies. [1] https://www.france.tv/france-3/
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Spitting Out Pieces of his Broken Luck
And more death and darkness from Source Point Press! (Gee, aren’t furries fun??) Well at least this is from a more silly angle: The Dead Duck and Zombie Chick one-shot comic. “Master cartoonist Jay Fosgitt [My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic (!) ] returns to his darkly comedic roots with the return of Dead Duck and Zombie Chick! Laugh along with the deadpan humor as Dead Duck does his best to keep up on his day job….delivering the souls of the dead for processing!” And it’s available for your viewing pleasure now.
image c. 2019 Source Point Press
S8 Episode 9 – Duh! (Best of FWIW) - This is a re-airing of one of our most popular episodes, but we've added new content! After recent events at conventions, such as the series of events at Rainfurrest, and years of “f***ing furries”, we had to ask – Is
NOW LISTEN!
Show Notes
Special Thanks
Arcas, one of our guests!
Nuka and the Anthropomorphic Research Project. They’ve collected lots of interesting facts, so check their work out!
Xevos
Maverick Collie
Leo the Artist
Kenny
Charleston Rat
Kira the (not Fox anymore) Kitsune
Spark the Dragon
Zorthar
Tor-Por
Leo the Artist
Music
Opening Theme: Husky In Denial – Cloud Fields (Century Mix). USA: Unpublished, 2015. ©2015 Fur What It’s Worth and Husky in Denial. Based on Fredrik Miller– Cloud Fields (Radio Mix). USA: Bandcamp, 2011. ©2011 Fur What It’s Worth. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs!)
Some music was provided by Kevin MacLeod at Incompetech.com. We used the following pieces: Pixelland. Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License.
Space News Music: Fredrik Miller – Orbit. USA: Bandcamp, 2013. Used with permission. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs!)
Closing Theme: Husky In Denial – Cloud Fields (Headnodic Mix). USA: Unpublished, 2015. ©2015 Fur What It’s Worth and Husky in Denial. Based on Fredrik Miller – Cloud Fields (Chill Out Mix). USA: Bandcamp, 2011. ©2011 Fur What It’s Worth. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs!)
Patreon Love
The following people have decided this month’s Fur What It’s Worth is worth actual cash! THANK YOU!
Artorias Ichisake and Kit and Cody
Rifka, the San Francisco Treat and Baldrik
Lokimutt and Guardian Lion and Dusky and Katchshi
Plus Tier Supporters
Skylos
Snares
Simone Parker
McRib Tier Supporters
Hachi Shibaru
Lygris S8 Episode 9 – Duh! (Best of FWIW) - This is a re-airing of one of our most popular episodes, but we've added new content! After recent events at conventions, such as the series of events at Rainfurrest, and years of “f***ing furries”, we had to ask – Is
TigerTails Radio Season 11 Episode 43
Furocity At FC19
Bad, Bad Bunny
And more dark stuff from the Long Beach Comic Expo. Remember when we talked about the graphic novel Wretched Things? Well it turns out that the publisher, Source Point Press, has another creepy anthropomorphic title in their crop: Rottentail. “This deranged graphic novel comes straight from the minds and hands of David C. Hayes, Kevin Moyers, Kurt Belcher, and Henrik Horvath. Geeky fertility researcher Peter Cotton is bitten by a mutant rabbit and changes into the half-man/half-bunny Rottentail. What’s a boy to do? Why, take a hippity, hoppity trip home of course! Peter begins a bloody killing spree of revenge that culminates in his childhood hometown of Easter Falls.” Ready for this? Rottentail has even been made into a film!
image c. 2019 Source Point Press
What Crawls Beneath
Definitely a darker sort of anthropomorphic story — that’s The Rats of Heaven, a new novel by J.J. Elliot. “The Rats of Heaven tells the story of the fallen angel Rahab, as he seeks revenge on the angels that exiled him to live out his existence on Earth as a rat. When the fallen angel meets a dying serial killer in the sewers they strike a deal that will terrorize a city. Only a 12 year-old boy knows what their secret and how to stop them. The Rats of Heaven will take the reader from the sewers of a modern city to the gardens of Heaven.” What a ride. Check it out over at Amazon.
image c. 2019 by JJ Elliot
[Live] Asexual Dungeon
A packed episode with the classic cast, plus our good friend s0ph0s.
Link Roundup:- Wolfgang Doe Trailer
- Earth is dying and this couple is crowdfunding a sex button
- @FreedomOfForm Anatomy Tweet
- Pablo’s Anti-Furry Livestream
- What do we do when the art we love was created by a monster?
- Knockoff Fayroe Suit
- ShopFursuit Wayback Machine Archive
- Av’s Furry Cruise Video
- Arctic’s Kerfluffle 11 Streetcar Party Video
- MysterySkulls GOH at FWA
- People’s Daily China Twitter Accounts Tweets Furries Unknowingly
- ‘Tinder for cows’ matches livestock in the mood for love
- Kurzgesagt – In a Nutshell – Loneliness
- ‘We are not hurting anyone!’ Woman, 26, who dresses as a cartoon animal for fun reveals she has received DEATH THREATS from people who think her ‘furry’ hobby is really a sexual fetish
- WAMU Interviews SonicFox about esports
- Awesome Art Inspired By Ubuntu Release “Disco Dingo”
- NPR Training “Want To Start A Podcast?” guide
- Estonians rescue wild wolf from ice thinking it was a dog
- Optimal Tip-to-Tip Efficiency
- The one fur cent: inside the lives of the world’s richest furries
- Rolling Stone: Adam Levine’s Nipples Prompt Complaints to the FCC
- Sex basement’ among amenities in upscale home for sale in Philadelphia suburb
- Nike’s self-lacing sneakers turn into bricks after faulty firmware update
- Man In Gorilla Suit Breaks In Home, Hides Under Bed
- BBC Radio 1 Host Trapped In An Escape Room For 30 Hours
Sincere Art
Also at Long Beach Comic Expo we met Samantha Sawyer. “Sincerely Sam” is an artist whose fantasy and furry works have graced the covers of various comics and convention books. She’s also been a guest at several comic book conventions. Visit her web site to see her gallery of works and more.
image c. 2019 by Samantha Sawyer
DreamWorks Dragons 3 by Playmobil
It's How to Train Your Dragon ... but in Playmobil! (Also How To Train Your Dragon 3 opens tomorrow)
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They’re Bad. Very Bad.
Recently we visited the Long Beach Comic Expo, and came across things like Devil’s Henchmen, “A comic about animals that misbehave”. And how! From the web site: “Welcome to The Devil’s Henchmen official site, a comic about a motley crew of dysfunctional bandits and their many misadventures. This comic is drawn and written by John Will Balsley” Sounds straightforward enough, but things get a lot weirder when you start to read it! The site includes not only the on-line comic itself but tons of background material and art.
image c. 2019 by JW Balsley
