Ladies and gentlemen, and scoundrels of all ages, this is the page for the stories.
"I'm wondering if there isn't a connection between this Viking’s appearance and our man's disappearance." "Yes, but I still don't know. It's all...so...well, I don't know. So unusual..."
Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.” I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.” AIR A Song of Taliessin While walking out under the greenwood fair […] via… Continue reading Shameless Plug for a Friend’s Poetry.
Tigers walk here, where Maharajahs rode, with jackals as their grooms and serving men. There lies the ancient, ruined city. There lies Delwaar San.
It only occurred to me this week, some few days after I opened the Stories shelf with The Bestiary and The Legend of Gnat Bunker what those two pieces have in common. They are not merely "creative" but meta-creative. They're about how we create what we do, and in a deeper sense, why.
Check back each week for new stories!
Nat took another drink and began another tale...
It was a slow day in 1871...