Because I'm in a marathon episode of procrastination - which I'm totally winning y'all - I thought I'd bring you what I'm finding in my Internet route. (NOTE: Because the recent copy right chaos for images, I'm not including any, but the links have great photos.)
*rubs hands*
Quantum Teleportation Race in full gear
We are well on our way folks! They are slowly breaking records. Today it's a single proton, tomorrow large masses of information, long time future who knows...people.
"Beam me up, Scottie." (Which was actually never said if I remember right. Correct me if I'm wrong blogger buddies.)
Now, I know the irony of titling it "Quantum TELEportation". I really hope they can come up with something more appropriate. I did in my new series: Quantaportation. Researchers, feel fee to take the term if you wish. It's all yours if you want it.
Organic memory material
Until the quantaportation technology is zipping info around the world, we can at least look forward to storing information on computers with less electricity usage thanks to this discovery of an organic crystalline compound that is ferroelectric. (This keeps flipping me a little bit back to Stargate Atlantis and the crystal technology on there.)
Goodbye RAM maybe, which uses buckos of energy to keep running due to its volatility.
Superhero Sutures
And because I can't search through science discoveries without checking out the latest and greatest in health and medicine (the industry to which I work in) I'm super excited about this new suture that is coated with sensors to detect infection. Not only does it detect it, but when it does, it heats up to aid in healing and fighting off the infection. Pretty cool, huh?
Okay, that's all I got right now. Anything new you guys have been reading about?
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
World Building Coolness: I created my own folklore!
Oh my goodness! Has it already been a week since I last posted? Where did the time fly? Where did the days sneak off to?
Hmm...I know where they went, as most of you writers know. Off into the lala land of the imagination. I have been so absorbed with my new manuscript that everything else has faded away into Nowhereville.
I was really excited because last week I created my own folklore for the story! Cool huh? I know! So, since I really can't think of anything super smart or witty to write about today, I thought I'd share the "myth" I created.
Enjoy!
(Just remember, this is off the cuff...not even through to the first editing phase.)
"First, you have to understand our existance belief. The Naga people believe in an invisible land, known as Zerzura, which is between the living and the dead. Or, as our ancestors call them, the Known Here and the Hidden Beyond. There, in Zerzura, two spirits stand guard. Siwa and Andelik."
Dane didn't known whether it was Enola's quiet, storytelling voice or the exhaustion of the last day, but a chill danced down his spine.
"When a new soul enters, the two battle for it, using the recent dead's energy for power. If the person lived a good life, and therefore had good energy, Andelik wins. But, if the person lived a bad life, it would have more evil energy and Siwa wins.
"The great Sun gifted shape shifters with the ability to transform and appreciate all creatures by living in their skin. But all gifts come with a catch."
Sadness weighed down on Dane and tears stung at his eyes. He made sure to stay facing away from them, at the water tank. Painful memories ached in his heart. All gifts come with a catch, so true. If he turned, would there be the same sadness in Becka? He didn't dare, but knew Becka enough to know she at least remembered that heartbreak they shared, when they still loved each other.
"Shape shifters, in the midst of transformation, exist on this plane here and Zerzura," Enola continued without realizing the undercurrents she agitated. "This provides a loophole for Siwa, but only if that shape shifter has not lived a good enough life. During transformation, Siwa grabs them. Picking them up in an evil wind of ice as he whistles a dark tune, he drags them straight to the underworld, the devil's domain."
Enola tapped her handheld on the desk lightly, breaking the mood she'd set in the room. "And that, Agent, is the myth of the Siwa."
Hmm...I know where they went, as most of you writers know. Off into the lala land of the imagination. I have been so absorbed with my new manuscript that everything else has faded away into Nowhereville.
I was really excited because last week I created my own folklore for the story! Cool huh? I know! So, since I really can't think of anything super smart or witty to write about today, I thought I'd share the "myth" I created.
Enjoy!
(Just remember, this is off the cuff...not even through to the first editing phase.)
* * * * * *
"First, you have to understand our existance belief. The Naga people believe in an invisible land, known as Zerzura, which is between the living and the dead. Or, as our ancestors call them, the Known Here and the Hidden Beyond. There, in Zerzura, two spirits stand guard. Siwa and Andelik."
Dane didn't known whether it was Enola's quiet, storytelling voice or the exhaustion of the last day, but a chill danced down his spine.
"When a new soul enters, the two battle for it, using the recent dead's energy for power. If the person lived a good life, and therefore had good energy, Andelik wins. But, if the person lived a bad life, it would have more evil energy and Siwa wins.
"The great Sun gifted shape shifters with the ability to transform and appreciate all creatures by living in their skin. But all gifts come with a catch."
Sadness weighed down on Dane and tears stung at his eyes. He made sure to stay facing away from them, at the water tank. Painful memories ached in his heart. All gifts come with a catch, so true. If he turned, would there be the same sadness in Becka? He didn't dare, but knew Becka enough to know she at least remembered that heartbreak they shared, when they still loved each other.
"Shape shifters, in the midst of transformation, exist on this plane here and Zerzura," Enola continued without realizing the undercurrents she agitated. "This provides a loophole for Siwa, but only if that shape shifter has not lived a good enough life. During transformation, Siwa grabs them. Picking them up in an evil wind of ice as he whistles a dark tune, he drags them straight to the underworld, the devil's domain."
Enola tapped her handheld on the desk lightly, breaking the mood she'd set in the room. "And that, Agent, is the myth of the Siwa."
* * * * * *
Well, I hoped you liked it. It probably will be tweaked a little bit during revisions and edits, but I really like the core of it.
Soooo, snooping moment: What has been your favorite world building moment?
Monday, August 13, 2012
Emoting Emotion
How do you get a character to show dimension when that character's culture and characteristic build is the lack of emotion?
No, no, I'm not going Vulcan on you all.
In my newest manuscript (started just a couple weeks ago) my main female character comes from a world where the people don't have the expressive facial, verbal tone modulation and body cues that normal humans do. So, the emotions are all on the inside but they don't come through and express themselves to the other characters.
I can't believe I did this to myself, people. I really can't.
Okay, truthfully I didn't get to choose her. She came popping up from my Muse (aka Subconscious). This is her story and there's no way around it. But I'm finding it a challenge to get her right. I mean, a character doesn't "tell" their feelings to others, it is shown usually through their body language and facial cues.
That route has been stripped from me. Thankfully this isn't a romance, but it's a woman's fictional story so I want her to exhibit some of those trials and tribulations that woman face and have faced throughout time.
When I'm in her POV it kind of works, because she's responding to the situation, but when I'm in the other main character's POV it's nearly impossible.
I think I'm going to pull from the corporate world a bit. What do I mean by this? Well, it is common for females in the corporate world to hide and suppress their emotional responses, or otherwise be seen as a fluff woman. This leads to them not being taken seriously and they lose credibility.
It's not exactly like it, but it's a start. I guess.
I might also research those cases of traumatic injury where people cannot express their emotions, but often it's because the emotion button is switched off, so I'm not sure how helpful it'll be.
Wish me luck folks!
What writing struggles are you all facing right now? Anything I can help with?
No, no, I'm not going Vulcan on you all.
In my newest manuscript (started just a couple weeks ago) my main female character comes from a world where the people don't have the expressive facial, verbal tone modulation and body cues that normal humans do. So, the emotions are all on the inside but they don't come through and express themselves to the other characters.
I can't believe I did this to myself, people. I really can't.
Okay, truthfully I didn't get to choose her. She came popping up from my Muse (aka Subconscious). This is her story and there's no way around it. But I'm finding it a challenge to get her right. I mean, a character doesn't "tell" their feelings to others, it is shown usually through their body language and facial cues.
That route has been stripped from me. Thankfully this isn't a romance, but it's a woman's fictional story so I want her to exhibit some of those trials and tribulations that woman face and have faced throughout time.
When I'm in her POV it kind of works, because she's responding to the situation, but when I'm in the other main character's POV it's nearly impossible.
I think I'm going to pull from the corporate world a bit. What do I mean by this? Well, it is common for females in the corporate world to hide and suppress their emotional responses, or otherwise be seen as a fluff woman. This leads to them not being taken seriously and they lose credibility.
It's not exactly like it, but it's a start. I guess.
I might also research those cases of traumatic injury where people cannot express their emotions, but often it's because the emotion button is switched off, so I'm not sure how helpful it'll be.
Wish me luck folks!
What writing struggles are you all facing right now? Anything I can help with?
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Short Story Memory Lane: The Patient
I was cruising through memory lane (otherwise known as procrastinating) and came across some of those old shorts and flashes that kick started my publication journey. One caught my attention. It's a couple years old and was published in a college literary magazine.
This one was an odd ball. First, it's literary. Second its not speculative or science fiction. Third, and most intruiging to me, it stemmed off an experience my mentor had when she was still an OR nurse.
So, because it seemed to call to me, I thought I'd share it with you all today. It's very short, so a quick read.
Two hours she'd been sitting there.
She’d planned to take her husband out for a surprise dinner, then relax at home with a glass of red wine and a book. “It’s okay. I don’t mind really,” Victoria said and meant it.
The hospital sitter for their unit had called in sick, so her supervisor had asked Victoria to stay with the patient after the surgery ended. Ten-hour shifts were hard, but worth it for three days off a week. Besides, Victoria was grateful she’d been around for this case.
“Where is his family?” she’d asked, glancing at the young man on the bed.
“Out of town. They are on their way in,” Gina, her supervisor had replied.
Victoria looked at the patient now and wondered what color his eyes were. With her free hand, she lightly moved the hair off his face. The wound on his forehead had darkened to a deep purple. Peeking from under the gown, the skin bulged through the suture gaps.
You look so pale, Sweetie. “Poor thing.”
The surgery had started with a rush several hours before, breaking what had been a slow night.
“One coming by airlift. ETA fifteen minutes. Prepare room five.” Gina had sounded like a roman commander readying for battle.
It was very much like combat. The enemy was Death. Some battles they won, and some they lost, but the war itself never ended.
“You battled hard, young man.” Victoria eyed at the clock. Two and a half hours. “It’s been a long wait, but they should be arriving soon. Don’t worry.” She double-checked the snugness of the hospital blanket.
She wondered again about the color of his eyes under those closed lids. That’s the thing about being a surgery nurse. You never get to see the color of their eyes. With blond hair, she knew they’d most likely be blue or green. She supposed they could be brown but she had a feeling they weren’t .
“My son’s a little older than you. Just starting college.”
She wondered if the young man had started college yet. She’d been lucky her son picked a school in the area. Daniel came home every weekend and break. The patient’s family lived three states over.
“They must be out of their heads with worry.” She rubbed her thumbs along his. “I’d be worried if you were my son.”
She wondered if he went home for school breaks and how often he called home. I bet you call at least once a week. His warm hand tightened around hers and she squeezed back.
“I know. It’ll be okay.”
She looked up at the clock. Almost three hours. Muffled conversation on the other side of the door broke the silence. Moments later, Gina entered with the surgery director. The director smiled down at the hands locked together and then at Victoria.
“Thank you so much for keeping him company. The family has arrived and would like to visit with him now.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Victoria stood and started to let go, but the patient wouldn’t loosen his grip. Sadly, she looked down at him and squeezed one more time. It’s time. She smiled at the director. “It’s been a while. Rigor mortis as set in.”
With tender care, she grabbed the young man’s forearm, ice cold from being dead so many hours, his hand only kept warmed from her touch. She stretched the hand that held his, felt the crack of his stiffened fingers against her skin, then slipped free and petted his blond hair once more before leaving.
The hallway filled with the noise of busy workers in green scrubs. Everything went on as if a soul hadn’t been lost. Victoria knew; she’d never forget him. That peaceful young man who’d died so tragically. Years of hardened nursing kept her from crying, but she grieved.
Turning left towards the lockers, she spotted a blond couple pass by. Through the redness of grief, both had eyes of dark green.
This one was an odd ball. First, it's literary. Second its not speculative or science fiction. Third, and most intruiging to me, it stemmed off an experience my mentor had when she was still an OR nurse.
So, because it seemed to call to me, I thought I'd share it with you all today. It's very short, so a quick read.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Patient
Victoria adjusted her position in the seat, but never let go. Not like she could even if she wanted too. The patient held her hand like a vice. The clock ticked, filling what would be silence.Two hours she'd been sitting there.
She’d planned to take her husband out for a surprise dinner, then relax at home with a glass of red wine and a book. “It’s okay. I don’t mind really,” Victoria said and meant it.
The hospital sitter for their unit had called in sick, so her supervisor had asked Victoria to stay with the patient after the surgery ended. Ten-hour shifts were hard, but worth it for three days off a week. Besides, Victoria was grateful she’d been around for this case.
“Where is his family?” she’d asked, glancing at the young man on the bed.
“Out of town. They are on their way in,” Gina, her supervisor had replied.
Victoria looked at the patient now and wondered what color his eyes were. With her free hand, she lightly moved the hair off his face. The wound on his forehead had darkened to a deep purple. Peeking from under the gown, the skin bulged through the suture gaps.
You look so pale, Sweetie. “Poor thing.”
The surgery had started with a rush several hours before, breaking what had been a slow night.
“One coming by airlift. ETA fifteen minutes. Prepare room five.” Gina had sounded like a roman commander readying for battle.
It was very much like combat. The enemy was Death. Some battles they won, and some they lost, but the war itself never ended.
“You battled hard, young man.” Victoria eyed at the clock. Two and a half hours. “It’s been a long wait, but they should be arriving soon. Don’t worry.” She double-checked the snugness of the hospital blanket.
She wondered again about the color of his eyes under those closed lids. That’s the thing about being a surgery nurse. You never get to see the color of their eyes. With blond hair, she knew they’d most likely be blue or green. She supposed they could be brown but she had a feeling they weren’t .
“My son’s a little older than you. Just starting college.”
She wondered if the young man had started college yet. She’d been lucky her son picked a school in the area. Daniel came home every weekend and break. The patient’s family lived three states over.
“They must be out of their heads with worry.” She rubbed her thumbs along his. “I’d be worried if you were my son.”
She wondered if he went home for school breaks and how often he called home. I bet you call at least once a week. His warm hand tightened around hers and she squeezed back.
“I know. It’ll be okay.”
She looked up at the clock. Almost three hours. Muffled conversation on the other side of the door broke the silence. Moments later, Gina entered with the surgery director. The director smiled down at the hands locked together and then at Victoria.
“Thank you so much for keeping him company. The family has arrived and would like to visit with him now.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Victoria stood and started to let go, but the patient wouldn’t loosen his grip. Sadly, she looked down at him and squeezed one more time. It’s time. She smiled at the director. “It’s been a while. Rigor mortis as set in.”
With tender care, she grabbed the young man’s forearm, ice cold from being dead so many hours, his hand only kept warmed from her touch. She stretched the hand that held his, felt the crack of his stiffened fingers against her skin, then slipped free and petted his blond hair once more before leaving.
The hallway filled with the noise of busy workers in green scrubs. Everything went on as if a soul hadn’t been lost. Victoria knew; she’d never forget him. That peaceful young man who’d died so tragically. Years of hardened nursing kept her from crying, but she grieved.
Turning left towards the lockers, she spotted a blond couple pass by. Through the redness of grief, both had eyes of dark green.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
The bad boy hero's we love to hate.... What makes them lovable in the end?
Please welcome writer buddy, Tami Dee, who's here to talk about someone we gals all fall for at least once...the bad boy.
******
I have always had a fascination with bad boy hero's and their transformation into the men heroines fall for.
It takes a skilled writer to create a hero who is flawed enough where we the readers start off wanting to shake some sense into him, then, as the pages turn we see our hero grow into a man our heroine can be proud to love.
On the other side of the coin, there are some writers who have not quite mastered that aspect of the bad boy hero turning good. The writer will make a vital mistake by creating a bad boy hero who is frankly unredeemable in the reader's eye. When this happens, and a heroine goes from hating the bad boy to loving him, despite the fact that the bad boy did not grow at all, or was so bad at the start that no matter what he did later, it would not make up for his initial badness, that is disturbing to me as a reader.
What do you think? How important is it to you to 'see' the growth in a bad boy hero? In general, (Please, no specific books or authors, I'm not going there with these questions) what lines do you, the readers; draw in your mind as to what might be unredeemable behavior?
Have you read any GOOD examples of bad boy hero's growing and earning the heroines respect and love by the end of the story? (This you can say author names or book titles--kudos are always nice to hear)
One commenter will be selected to win a free download of my latest release, Chameleons Shadow.
Blurb:Lady Elisabetta Mitchell, a pampered daughter of a murdered English Marquis, is forced to flee the only home she's ever known. She now lives in poverty on the unfeeling streets of Southwark, London 1623. Caught between two worlds, she will do whatever it takes to survive.
Lord William Hunter, a nobleman with a secret. When an unknown woman rushes into his startled embrace, battered and afraid, he vows to protect this fair-haired beauty. Yet he cannot protect the girl who runs from him and his probing questions. He has to find her again first. And find her he will, no matter how long he must search.
Excerpt:
Prologue
London, England
February 1625
Lord Harrison Mitchell raked the bodies of his sister-in-law and niece with a dispassionate flick of his hard violet eyes.
A thin cackle escaped his lips, bouncing off the tall walls before returning to him with an unmistakable edge of madness. Blood pooled on the pale marble floor beneath his nieces head, mindful of where he stepped, he made his way back into the study.
His heart beat at a steady pace, his hands, elegant and long fingered, fisted and un-fisted at his sides, and his thoughts were already drifting to his mistress, who he would be seeking out as soon as this night's unpleasantness was behind him.
Harrison knelt beside the body of his only brother, Alexander, his younger brother. His lips pulled into a resigned line as he viewed the gaping dagger wound in his chest. The look of stunned disbelief still marred Alexander's face, as incurious in death as it had been the moment Harrison had stepped from behind the thick velvet curtains he had lain in-wait behind, and plunged the blade into him.
The scent of fresh blood jerked an unexpected gag reflex out of Harrison, and his stomach churned. Holding his breath he stared at the smudges of crimson stark against the chalk white pads of his fingertips in mild surprise, then distain, wiping them clean on the rug as he stood.
Satisfied he had left behind no evidence of his presence, barring the three dead bodies, he crossed to the window he had entered from, dropping to the ground with a grunt when his feet hit the hard packed earth.
Let the watch make what they would of the scene when they arrived.
Things had not gone exactly as he had planned, he admitted to himself with an inner shrug. Yet he had accomplished what he had set out to do. All that stood between himself and the Mitchell fortune now was his nephew, Nicolas.
His breath puffed out white in the chilled night air as he scanned the dark line of pines at the back of his brother's property, then he snorted. No terrified five year old boy could survive an English winter night while lost in a forest. The beasties would devour him before dawn, or he would freeze to death.
A light layer of frost crunched under his hurried steps as Harrison made his way back to his waiting carriage. He could not believe the brat had stumbled into Alexander's study, just as Harrison had plunged the dagger into his father's heart.
He rubbed his gloved hand over his ears. They still rang with the lad's horrified screams. A costly state of shock had momentarily paralyzed Harrison before he had lunged for Nicolas, but by then the boy had already ran out of the study, skidded through the entry way and out the tall double doors into the night, his night rail a trail of white as Harrison had panted at the wide open doors and watched as he had disappeared into the forest.
It hadn't surprised Harrison when, moments later, his sister-in-law, Lady Rachele and his niece, Elisabetta, alerted by Nicolas's screams, had ran down the sweeping staircase, stumbling to a stunned halt when they had caught sight of him standing at the foot of the stairs waiting for them, bloody dagger in hand.
He shook his head and pushed the rest of the night's unpleasantness out of his mind. His driver pulled open the carriage door and lowered the step, then backed away so he could climb inside. "That did not take long, My lord."
Harrison smiled at him, a thin twist of lips, "The manor was dark and quiet, I didn't bother knocking."
Harrison settled himself upon his padded seat and pulled the rug over his lap, his lips pulled into a satisfied smile.
Before long he, Lord Harrison Mitchell, would have everything he'd ever wanted.
Everything.
Buy links:
Amazon, Desert Breeze Publishing
Tami's web site: http://www.tamidee.com/
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Immortality and the seduction telomere
Hi all, I'm over hanging with PI today to continue my discussion of immortality and building a SF concept around it.
Stop by if you have a chance!
http://pibarrington.wordpress.com/2012/07/18/building-a-science-fiction-concept/
Stop by if you have a chance!
http://pibarrington.wordpress.com/2012/07/18/building-a-science-fiction-concept/
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Near Future Inspiration by P. I. Barrington
My writer friend P.I. Barrington is stopping by today to talk about inspiration and....wait for it my geek buddies...near future inspiration!
Inspiration can create many things from mechanical items of fancy to urgently needed life saving technology and pretty much everything in between. Where to get some of that inspiration? If you're a dedicated science fiction writer, a heck of a lot of it comes from absorbing all that techie stuff in books and movies about the future, near or far.
From reality and fantasy; I'm sure you've seen the new foam disinfectant dispensers in hospitals and doctors' offices that are attached to the walls. Medical staff presses a puff or two on their hands as they pass keeping themselves and hopefully everyone else as germ free as possible.
I first noticed them when my mother had to be admitted to the emergency room and the staff there used them almost without thinking. I was amazed that no one had ever thought of it before, and wished I'd been that creative in helping people. But it did start me thinking about more wonderful technologies to come. When I started Crucifying Angel, I took it a step further thinking how and what I wanted to see improved especially in medicine.
I'd always disliked those latex gloves that doctors and nurses snapped on their hands. I just always felt they were still too easy to contaminate so I thought about the foam disinfectant and combined the two in a sense. What I came up with was the spray on latex gloves that touched nothing prior to spraying them on hands as foam where they harden to the texture of latex. They could then be peeled off without too much contact with contaminants and were easily portable in spray bottles. Not only that but they played a major part in all three novels of the trilogy!
What if, instead of using weaponry, the police could just spray a non-lethal, non-harmful foam sedative over the crowd that would be absorbed through the skin and produce a sedative effect on an entire crowd of people at once?
More about P. I. Barrington:
* * * * * *
Inspiration can create many things from mechanical items of fancy to urgently needed life saving technology and pretty much everything in between. Where to get some of that inspiration? If you're a dedicated science fiction writer, a heck of a lot of it comes from absorbing all that techie stuff in books and movies about the future, near or far.
There are other places and sources of inspiration for your particular however. Two of the technologies I created and am very proud of are the spray on latex gloves and Sedadone my foam crowd control sedative in the Future Imperfect trilogy. Where did those ideas spring from?
From reality and fantasy; I'm sure you've seen the new foam disinfectant dispensers in hospitals and doctors' offices that are attached to the walls. Medical staff presses a puff or two on their hands as they pass keeping themselves and hopefully everyone else as germ free as possible.
I first noticed them when my mother had to be admitted to the emergency room and the staff there used them almost without thinking. I was amazed that no one had ever thought of it before, and wished I'd been that creative in helping people. But it did start me thinking about more wonderful technologies to come. When I started Crucifying Angel, I took it a step further thinking how and what I wanted to see improved especially in medicine.
I'd always disliked those latex gloves that doctors and nurses snapped on their hands. I just always felt they were still too easy to contaminate so I thought about the foam disinfectant and combined the two in a sense. What I came up with was the spray on latex gloves that touched nothing prior to spraying them on hands as foam where they harden to the texture of latex. They could then be peeled off without too much contact with contaminants and were easily portable in spray bottles. Not only that but they played a major part in all three novels of the trilogy!
I'm even more proud of my invention of Sedadone, the crowd controlling foam sedative. If you know anything about Los Angeles, you know we're prone to riots and demonstrations and protest marches. Being an ex-journalist, I watch the news voraciously; something we never overcome, lol! Over the years, watching the many times violent interaction between police and protestors, even when they used non-lethal crowd control methods like rubber bullets and tasers it was still fairly painful and violent.
I used to watch and think "there's gotta be a better way" and not only a better way but a more effective way to control large crowds rather than focus in on a few rowdy people. When I got to Final Deceit (Book Three) an idea popped into my head connected with the foam concept!
What if, instead of using weaponry, the police could just spray a non-lethal, non-harmful foam sedative over the crowd that would be absorbed through the skin and produce a sedative effect on an entire crowd of people at once?
Oh sure, the politics of that would probably never allow it to come to fruition in reality, but in a crumbling 2032 Las Vegas, the police would probably welcome anything that could produce immediate results in riots, especially non-violent, temporary incapacitation type results. It would probably reduce civil suits in courtrooms all over the state of California too!
Well, maybe not reduce…maybe create more class action lawsuits. But for the purposes of science fiction writing, I thought it worked pretty well. Both of those ideas came from reality and fantasy: what we have and what we wish we have.
Look around you there's always something you can improve upon even if might not be an eventuality then again nobody thought we'd really have a space shuttle or space station outside of some sci-fi author's imagination. Yet there they are, functioning on a daily basis getting and giving us improvements and knowledge to deal with our own inspirations and make the fantasies into reality.
A little inspiration can go a long long way.
More about P. I. Barrington:
Website: http://www.thewordmistresses.com/
Twitter: http://twitter.com/theegypsy
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