Kurt Vonnegut on how to write a good short story. I think a lot of this could apply for longer stories, too. (With some weird older pictures of him, too.)
Author: Mark Newton
There’s a gallery of these over at the Guardian. Though just about all forms of energy generation are controversial to some section of the population, I reckon wind turbines are among the most beautiful. There’s a weird, hypnotic grace to their movements – and, besides, I’d far rather live next to one of these than a coal mine.
“It depicts two young princes spirited away from danger and being comforted by their glamorous mother. The royal refugees and their precious cargo arrive at a protective monastery – safe from harm, if not from public scrutiny.”
Via the Auckland Art Gallery.
“Bessie Ellen is Britain’s last wooden coasting ketch still under sail. She traded during the final era of sail when these ships were an everyday sight in the small ports and harbours throughout Britain.”
This is rather hypnotic, especially watching it on a sunny morning.
This is a bit weird, and there’s more detail on Mashable, but essentially a six-person team lives in the ‘Mars Desert Research Station’. Crews pay $500 to rent the module and pretend they were living on the Red Planet. I suppose it might be fun for a little while and, though the psychological impact probably wouldn’t be anywhere near as close, at least you’re away from the distraction of social media.
For those of you in the UK, I’m going to be on a Science Fiction and Fantasy Panel at the Lincoln Drill Hall, on Friday May 9th at 7.15pm. I’ll be there with authors David Barnett and Gareth L Powell, as well as our agent John Jarrold, to talk all things genre. More details here.
So I’ve finally finished building all of the beds, about 14 months after we took on the plot. Here’s how it looked back then, by the way. Currently there are loads of seeds doing what seeds do, fruit bushes developing nicely, potatoes beginning to surface, and onions roaring away (well, where pheasants haven’t rooted them up out of curiousity). It’s been a much more gentle pace to the start of the growing year, so I’ve enjoyed the strike-force of robins that scour the earth for worms, the sparrow-hawk that scour the hedgerows for robins, and the field mouse that scampers along the hedgerow doing who-knows what. And the skylark song filling the air.