The island, the boat, the choice

orange sunset and a distant blurred figure

IMAGINE: You’re trapped on a deserted island, with a decent food supply and not-horribly dangerous animals. You are accompanied by five other people, a mix of men and women, and there is a boat, somewhat battered which serves as shelter, catches rain water, things like that

The boat has holes in it. You could push off at any time, wander into the great blue, but if you didn’t find another boat pretty darned quick, you would be dead. The margin of hope is narrow.

The desert has nothing. No people, no resources. You could probably survive a good long time on that island, with those five strangers, but do you want to stay there? Do you want to raise children there? Do you want to settle.

You are going to die (everyone is). But do you chose to die suddenly on the unforgiving sea, eventually on the island, or are you going to take that one in everything chance that you can find you way back to the world you used to know?

I’m thinking a good hero would take the boat and take their chances, but I’m struggling with the question. Or at least how to phrase the question.


In pursuit of SCIENCE!

the hand-written words just me and my handbasket

So, I’m writing a novel (badly), trying to do the Nanowrimo thing and write a steady amount every day (the current goal is 1000 words-per-day, actually more, because I’m about 4000 behind arg). I call it “the Spacefic”, and I’m writing it because no matter how ridiculous it could be, it’s in my head and wants to get out.

I’ve already resigned myself to the idea that the science isn’t going to make a thimble’s worth of sense, but I was looking up some stuff today just to see how badly I’m doing to be butchering possibilities, and HOLY SHIT I’m not that far out.

There’s a genre of fanfiction called “omega’verse.” The Spacefic falls under the category, though I’m trying to get away from a lot of the terminology just because it creates certain expectations (mainly LOTS AND LOTS of biologically questionable sex) that I don’t necessarily want to be trapped into. I’m really here for the social-sexual commentary. Isn’t THAT ridiculous?

Anyway, here’s the most compact thesis statement for my world/species/the crux-of-what-makes-them-different-from-you-and-me, as lifted from <a href=””>the Wikipedia article about Pheromones</a>:

Pheromones have evolved in all animal phyla, to signal sex and dominance status, and are responsible for stereotypical social and sexual behaviour among members of the same species.

My aliens (they don’t even have a name yet) are a biochemically driven species that actually managed to achieve space travel. They’re pretty cool, and really bloody messed up all at the same time.

Hello world!

the hand-written words just me and my handbasket

GREETINGS! This is my super-secret writing blog: tell everyone!

I have it now because I have thought for ages and ages now that I should have someplace to put Thoughts, someplace to write that isn’t immediately connected to the other people and impressions I am. And you never know, I may delete this blog tomorrow. Let’s see how the wind blows, shall we?