Being a twit
I’m currently planning a steampunk novel (and, shockingly, it’s already turned into a trilogy), but I don’t feel I know enough about the 1800s. So I’m not going to let myself start the writing until:
-I’ve read at least twenty books in full (so far I’ve read one on bushrangers, one on “History’s Worst Inventions” and one on early Australian manners, called “Savage or Civilised” – my story is set mainly in Victoria)
-I’ve written all my twittertales for this year, and twelve flash stories (I have an email list that gets a flash tale at the beginning of each month).
So far I have about 5000 words of notes, and every so often I have another brilliant idea for some scene or moment or invention – and I resist my urge to begin, and instead write it down for later. The suspense is fantastic. And my twittertales are happening much, much faster than usual.
I’m excited to be doing this book “properly” and I’ll have a good long (honest) look at the outline before I let myself rush into things that will be problematic later.
My main character is Emmeline, a convict from London.
*zips lip*
Here’s a random steampunk picture, from http://brassbolts.blogspot.com/
You’re welcome.
#264: Vodka and caviar
Today’s mission (suggested by Ben) was:
Eat something ‘gross’ that is considered a delicacy in another culture.
Ever since watching “The Strange Case of Benjamin Button” (which, sidebar, I didn’t like due to the excessive sadness) I’ve wanted to combine vodka and caviar – like Tilda Swinton’s character does in the film.
Since I’m buying caviar for my epic birthday feast – but don’t plan to buy enough vodka for everyone – I chose to indulge myself today.
I discovered that, ironically, vodka “ice” (unlike regular vodka) can freeze. After waiting for it to unfreeze, CJ and I ate Russia’s answer to Devonshire Tea.
Vodka is pretty yucky without sugar, but cruisers always taste nice. Caviar is an extraordinarily neat food – both in the jar and on the tongue. Each sphere is perfectly formed and doesn’t taste of anything much. They feel surprisingly solid, like tiny marbles. Then you bite down and juicy saltiness just explodes. (I forgot to note back at the “sushi” entry that I do like one salty food – caviar.)
Then you have a little more vodka. Then some more caviar. Then vodka. Then caviar. I think the effect of the vodka is to burn away the flavour so each new mouthful of caviar is a brilliant surprise.
I enjoyed this very much. (The little jars, by the way, only cost about $6.)
In the past, I’ve also eaten:
Chicken feet and neck (tastes like. . . er, chicken. Particularly chicken wings).
Crocodile (like very dense, dry chicken).
Dog (like extremely tough red meat – yuck).
Turtle/Tortoise (I don’t know which because no-one there spoke English), which was the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. It tasted wrong and dirty and gravelly – much like I expected dog to taste, actually.
And I’ve eaten frog’s legs (like extremely tiny drumsticks, and perfectly nice despite the difficulty of actually eating them) and. . . drum roll. . . fried frog’s skin.
The fried frog’s skin was crunchy – crunchier than crunchy potato chips – and mostly tasted burnt.
One question remains: Who on earth goes around peeling frogs?
PS Now I want to go eat some more caviar. And have more vodka.
Yay for Russia.
“Zeppelin Jack and the Black Diamond” so far
1
My best friend Nip and I snuck into a real bar – sort of. We’d annoyed our zeppelin’s one and only barkeep until he punished us with dishes.
Giz parped in my pocket. Things are truly dull when your automata complains. But then I saw two men whispering, with their heads bent close.
I snuck closer and heard one man mutter that the black diamond had to be found. As I took their empty mugs, I heard a name – Esmerelda.
2
“But Jack,” Nip said again, narrowing his Chinese eyes at me until he went cross-eyed, “we don’t know an Esmerelda, and nor does anyone.”
We were half mad with curiousity, so we went and asked Matron if she knew an Esmerelda. “Oh no,” she said, “other than me, none at all.”
“Do you know anything about a black diamond?” I asked. She blushed three shades of red: “You orphans weren’t meant to know I was engaged.”
3
Nip and I hid outside the jeweller’s where Matron’s ring was getting polished. “So it was her fiancé we threw off the zeppelin roof,” I said.
“He DID try to kill us,” said Nip. “And, we blew him up.” “Shh! Gizmo’s coming out!” Giz parped frantically at us, and fled down a pipe.
The jeweller was deep in conversation with a hooded man. I crept in to listen and heard, “Do you think Esme knows what it is?” “No chance.”
4
Nip and I went to the library (ugh!) to learn (ugh!) about black diamonds. The librarian scowled at us, but she let us in.
Nip said, “Hey Jack! Black diamonds come from outer space.” “Is that why the jewellers are interested in Matron’s one?” “I don’t think so.”
5
I rubbed more grease into my side of the cog while Nip worked on the other side, hidden by the mechanism. The engine thrummed around us.
I said, “Black diamonds are exciting, when people aren’t silly enough to make them all lovey-dovey. But I think Matron’s ring is special.”
Gizmo said, “Bing!” and we moved on to the next piston. I said, “There’s only one way to figure out what it is, and that’s to steal it.”
6
Nip and I snuck into Matron’s gondola, wincing at the girly stink of it. I reminded myself she wasn’t a real girl, and was able to go on.
Hoping against hope that Matron was too old for cooties, I snuck close and saw the ring glinting beside her bed. I reached out and-
-she whipped out a hand and got me. “Jack? You’re demoted to sixth assistant cogmonkey for this. And you should be ashamed!” “I am.”
7
Nip and I bravely crept back to Matron’s gondola. There were other boys at her door, and when they spotted us they gave a shout! We ran off.
8
Nip knew the boys Matron had set outside her door, so he sacrificed himself for my sake, and challenged them to a kung fu battle elsewhere.
Giz and I crept to Matron’s gondola alone – only to be foiled again. More boys! As Matron, Esme had an endless supply. Giz parped sadly.
9
I reported to Matron for my extra duties, wearing my saddest, most parentless face. She shook my hand by way of forgiveness.
Her diamond ring slid off, neat as you please. Being a good boy is worth it after all! I took it to Nip and once.
There was something strange about the ring. The surface was badly scratched, despite the supposed polish. Giz rolled over to look.
10
Nip and I broke into an alchemist’s lab (much easier than Matron’s gondola, and far less hazardous in cooties terms) to borrow their scope.
Between the three of us, we drew the pattern of scratches from the ring’s surface. The scientist returned, but we just hid under the desk.
11
I returned Matron’s ring and told her a story about rescuing it from a Nasty Piece of Work. “Thanks,” she said drily, “you’re my hero.”
Somehow I found myself demoted to seventh assistant cogmonkey. Oh well – it could be worse. I could be blown up and thrown off the roof.
12
I had a dream and woke up knowing what was scratched on the black diamond. “It’s a map!” I said. Gizmo said, “Bing!” and I knew I was right.
Nip was unimpressed. He said, “A map of what? It’s just squiggly lines and a picture of a lemon.” I said, “And an X. Don’t forget THAT.”
13
The picture of a lemon was definitely A Clue. Nip and I went to the grocer to “investigate”. We stole three lemons, two limes and a tomato.
The fruit was delicious. The clue remained a mystery. What kind of treasure had anything to do with citrus fruits?
14
Nip passed me a rag saturated with oil, and I wiped down the number four piston. As I leaned forward, the map fell out of my shirt.
I grabbed the map, but it was covered in engine grease. Gizmo rolled around on his six little legs, parping miserably.
Nip carefully spread it out: “It’s okay, Jack. The oil seeped into the pencil grooves, but we can still read it.”
15
I slept with the map under my head, determined to keep it safe. When I woke up, my pillow was covered in squiggly lines of oil.
Matron called Nip and I to her office. Did she know about the fruit? I hid Giz in my metal arm in case she tried to confiscate him.
Matron dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief: “You boys know what happened to my fiancé, don’t you?” I said, “Didn’t know you had one.”
16
“We’re going to have to tell her,” I told Nip. Matron burst in: “Tell me what?” I panicked, and showed her the map taken from her ring.
Matron said, “A map? Really? It’s just squiggly lines and a picture of a lemon.” “And an X,” I said. She said, “Hmm.”
17
Nip and I had Gizmo thoroughly check we were alone before we dared to talk openly about the death of Matron’s evil fiancé.
“We have to tell her,” I said. Nip said, “She’ll kill us to death for not telling her sooner.” “Yes.”
18
I woke up and the map was gone! Someone had snuck into the foundlings’ quarters and stolen the only valuable thing. I suspected Matron.
Nip searched with me, but it was no use. The map was gone. But all was not lost – we still had a backward copy of the map on my pillow.
19
Nip and Giz and I were temporarily assigned to roof cleaning duties. The burnt nets where Matron’s fiancé had fallen through were fixed now.
When I’d scraped off the bird poo, I stopped to look at the view. Below me the wide sea was smooth, and the few people in the bay were tiny.
I pulled the stained pillow from my shirt and yelled for Nip, “Come here quick! It’s the bay! The map shows the coastline of Botany Bay!”
20
Nip and I went up on the roof again, so no-one could eavesdrop. I said, “How do we get down?” Nip said, “Can you fly? Because I can’t.”
Nip said, “Isn’t the Bay full of convicts anyway? Isn’t that why all reputable folk are up here in an airship – to avoid them?”
I said, “We’ll deal with the convicts later, once I’ve thought of a way down. Nip – Gizmo – we’re going to fly!” Nip said, “We ARE flying.”
21
I went to Matron and told her the truth: her fiancé had given her a treasure map. “We need your help to get down and collect it,” I said.
“There’s no way I’m applying for permission to take you on land,” she said, “You’d be a bad influence on all those convicts. I’ll go.”
“Nice work,” said Nip when I told him. I said, “Yep. Now we gotta get down there before she does. I bet she’s made copies of the map, too.”
#253: Make the world
Yesterday I went without internet and TV for another long, painful 24 hours. (When I have a child, I plan to keep them from TV for at least two years. . . that should be HILARIOUS.)
I didn’t get that babysitting job I wanted, but I don’t think it was because she suspected I was a criminal mastermind.*
I have a headache from reading so darn much about bushrangers and early Australian manners (two different books, both fascinating).
I also amused myself making a giant world map for my “Food of the World” party next month. It’s now labelled (colour coded for appetiser, main meal, dessert, and drinks) and blue-tacked to the underside of our glass dining table.
I used pencil lines of latitude and longitude to divide it into a 150% copy of our wall map. There are some errors, but it DOES look pretty. If you do the same thing, I recommend you use a rectangular map rather than the semicurved version.
Here’s what our table usually looks like:
*In fact I think I can say that for certain.
#129: Buy a lemon tree
On Monday the second of May, 2010, I bought a lemon tree. This is what it looked like then:
One month later (I rigged a towel over our clothes horse to protect it from frost):
And on December 27th 2010, there were lemons growing:
Yay! I made food!
The good side of a bad dad
I sometimes wonder if I should have kids. I’m pretty nuts, and I don’t know how children will influence my mental illness – or how my mental illness will influence them. But my mum has an anxiety disorder too, which is oddly encouraging – because I inherited it from her, but my life is pretty good (which means that my kids may well have anxiety issues too, but that’s not the worst thing in the world).
Even better, I get to instantly know my kids are, in one way, much better off than I was.
My biological dad is a bit useless. He’s in and out of jail for fraud, and he left my mum before I was a year old.
I have a fantastic stepfather – in fact, my earliest memory is preparing for their wedding. But I feel like I have an advantage in the realm of parenthood when I realise that CJ will be the father of my children – from the first instant of their life. That’s pretty encouraging.
Who knows? Maybe my kids will even turn out non-crazy. That’d be nice.
S#39: Learn Braille
Last night, some friends and I discussed what we’d give up in order to get what we want (which varied from world peace to superpowers). Most of us would give up a leg, but one person said they’d rather give up an arm. Most of us would hold on to sight even if it was the only sense we could keep – but one person is a linguist (and music is very important to him) so he’d rather keep hearing.
I wear contact lenses, but I doubt I’ll ever need braille in everyday life. And I’m grateful for that.
All the same, today I learnt the braille alphabet (and I learned that Mr Braille invented it in 1821, so who knows? It may well come up in the steampunk book). I used http://www.fakoo.info/braille-learn.html.
It was very peculiar to write out my name in braille, then look at it and say, “Yes. That looks right.” I’m very impressed with the simplicity and elegance of the system. At least now if I’m struck blind tomorrow, I can still read my own name (if it’s spelled out in letters rather than the more efficient additions to braille).
#262: Build a steam engine
One of the things that’s so wonderful about steampunk technology is that, given five minutes, anyone can understand how it all works. I took that five minutes yesterday, and felt so good about it that I decided to build one.
After some thought about which saucepans I wasn’t too fond of, and how I could weld something into a boiler shape, I decided to use paper instead of metal – which means no setting the house on fire this time *sigh*.
I messed around for a long while with paper, cardboard (from Lindt extreme orange packets, FYI), stickytape, paperclips, a metal skewer, and blue-tack (no time for glue! I’m inventing here!) and did make something capable of rolling (before I removed the back wheels, anyway).
You’ll notice I used our clock table as a workspace – it honestly just happened that way.
I realised I needed better wheels, so I started over – using a sliced toilet paper roll and several mangled cocktail umbrellas to great effect.
We had some friends drop by, who watched my “craft” with horrified fascination. It was quite embarrassing because I don’t know them all that well, and this was a VERY steep (and dodgy) learning curve.
But.
After learning a huge amount (particularly the importance of axle grease, and the joy of SCIENCE!!*), I had a semi-functional steam engine (minus the steam engine part, which is too heavy and too flammable – but I know where it goes, and what it would look like).
Basically, the steam engine sits on the back and blows steam onto the large cog, which turns the smaller cog at the front, which turns the front wheels (the back wheels are pulled along). To go forward, it blows steam downward onto the lower half of the big cog, and to go in reverse it blows steam up onto the higher part of the cog.
I expect I’ll build many more over the next few months.
In the meantime, here’s a general writerly-type interview I did for another blog:
http://www.katierunyon.com/phpBB3/myblog.php/2011/01/06/20-questions-louise-curtis/
*Those who read the Girl Genius graphic novels by Phil and Kaja Foglio will know what I mean. (Ditto for those who like cackling in basements while wearing welding goggles – which, if I’m not mistaken, is all of you.)
#261: Research
I am almost certainly going to write a young adult steampunk novel this year, set mainly in Australia. At the moment, I’m in the research stage – very carefully not writing the plot until I know the world. I’m reading up on convicts, bushrangers, crinolines, gold, shipwrecks, Victoria, Australia’s inland lake (which doesn’t exist), manners, steam trains, and so on.
Wikipedia is really useful for getting an overview, and showing up the areas of my greatest ignorance. TV tropes are good for getting more familiar with the genre (I am of course also reading steampunk fiction). Cracked is good for mad science. Here’s some of what I’ve discovered so far (much of it will need confirmation from more reliable sources):
Rollerskates were invented some time before 1743 and were mildly popular in Victorian times (inline ones, at that).
Approximately 20% of Australia’s transportees were women.
The “Welcome Stranger” was the name given to the largest alluvial gold nugget found in the world, which was too big for any scales.
In 1824, permission was granted to change the name of the continent from “New Holland” to “Australia”
Ned Kelly was hung in 1880, the same year as a major exhibition in Melbourne.
Before being officially named Melbourne, the town had several interim names — including Batmania, Bearbrass, Bareport, Bareheep, Barehurp and Bareberp (in June 1835).
Modern scientists are working on making:
a) Mice that travel (and breed) at super speeds.
b) Monkeys that glow in the dark.
And then there’s this story:
The Loch Ard departed England on 2 March 1878, bound for Melbourne, commanded by Captain Gibbs and with a crew of 17 men. It was carrying 37 passengers and assorted cargo. On 1 June, the ship was approaching Melbourne and expecting to sight land when it encountered heavy fog. Unable to see the Cape Otway lighthouse, the captain was unaware how close he was running to the coast. The fog lifted around 4am, revealing breakers and cliff faces. Captain Gibbs quickly ordered sail to be set to come about and get clear of the coast, but they were unable to do so in time, and ran aground on a reef. The masts and rigging came crashing down, killing some people on deck and preventing the lifeboats from being launched effectively. The ship sank within 10 or 15 minutes of striking the reef.
The only two survivors of the wreck were Eva Carmichael, who survived by clinging to a spar for five hours, and Thomas (Tom) R. Pearce, an apprentice who clung to the overturned hull of a lifeboat. Tom Pearce came ashore first, then heard Eva’s shouts and went back into the ocean to rescue her. They came ashore at what is now known as Loch Ard Gorge and sheltered there before seeking assistance. Ironically, Tom Pearce was the son of James Pearce, captain of the ill-fated SS Gothenburg.[1]
And here’s a pretty pretty picture taken from http://brassbolts.blogspot.com/ today.
S#10: Trim
Today’s awesomeness was all about making boring clothes exciting. If you interpret clothes with holes in as “exciting” and interpret plain, functional clothing as “boring” then I precisely reversed today’s mission. Which is sort of like doing it, right?
I started the day with two basketfuls of miscellaneous sewing rubbish from under my desk.
I ended the day having reduced the useless rubbish in my home by one basket. I also discovered three items of clothing that don’t appear to have anything wrong with them; fixed a pair of long black gloves; donated a jacket to charity; and fixed one of my infamous ankle-length skirts (which I’m wearing right now).
Having accidentally deleted the “before” photo, here instead is a picture of an unrelated basket.
No, she’s not for sale. Not never.
Felicity Banks 