Project: Humans are Weird
I've been on DA for quite some time. When I started writing waaaay back in 2011 it was this site that was punished with the first rusty squeals of my mental process. I thrived on the feedback I had never gotten anywhere else. I made friendships that would extend across the world, and a story that began on these very pages would burst out into the real world as a paperback. Now I have another dream. Project Description
: I'm going to shake the geeky world (with laughter). There is no better feeling in the world than making someone honestly laugh. And why not laugh? Are we not a preposterous species? You fumble around upright in your bipedal bodies chasing down everything that moves, determined to either eat it or pet it. You'll...I mean we'll decide when we get there. What better way to illustrate this madness than through the eyes of (friendly and horrified) aliens.
I will write and anthology of stories that illustrate the delightful absurdity of the human race. 60K words of side splitting, tea snortling, lip sernking humor.
1) Finish Writing the Stories. (I've got several already "done".)
2) Get all the aliens illustrated. (I have an illustrator.)
3) Get some stories illustrated.
4) Get the writing edited. (I have a #VeryRespectable
editor lined up.)
5) Publish the book. (I will go through a reputable printer and fulfillment service.)
6) Write more stories now that I no longer need a day job. #PipeDreams
Here is a little sneak peak at my work. Humans are Weird – Lava
Original Post: www.authorbettyadams.com/betty…
“So the commander of the central flight wants to make a formal ceremony of the act of gratitude,” Forty-five Clicks informed the human who was busily strapping something onto his legs. “He-“
Forty-five Clicks stopped speaking as he realized exactly what the human had been trying on. Just to make sure he flew up to the top of the backpack the human was loading and chirped in, sounding the fragrant depths.
“Why are you packing up this personal heat shielding?” Forty-five Clicks demanded.
He wasn’t sure why all the fur on his body stood on end but by the gum of the mother tree he had learned to trust that instinct.
“I need it to get the samples,” the human replied cheerfully.
Forty-five Clicks wasn’t one to perch on ceremony, even by the loose standards of his people. He leapt up and threw all of his forty grams of mass in the face of the human and dug his winghooks into the soft flesh under the human’s ears. This let him glare furiously into one of the cavernous pupils of the larger mammal.
“What. Samples?” Forty-five Clicks demanded.
“Of the lava,” the human said quickly. “Hey, winghooks man.”
“Why?” Forty-five Clicks pressed.
“For fun,” the human replied.
“Where are you going to get lava from?” Forty-five Clicks demanded as slowly as he could.
“That volcano that just popped,” the human replied, gesturing in what Forty-five Clicks assumed was meant to be the direction of the former mountain.
It wasn’t. How did they survive in nature on their own the poor directionless things?
“The volcano,” Forty-five Clicks said. “The one that nearly killed three flights. The one that took down not only our silverwing atmospheric flyers but also one of your near indestructible helicopters. The one that utterly destroyed hectares of land. The one that is currently spewing ash, gas, and liquid magma.”
“It isn’t magma after it gets to the surface!” The human insisted.
Forty-five Clicks groaned and loosed the human. He slid down the human’s chest until he was caught in the broad hand. The hand that was covered in scars so thick any one of them would have utterly incapacitated his wings, and a fresh cut that he knew the human had gained in the rescue operation. Forty-five Clicks sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“You are not going to collect magma-“
“Lava.” The human corrected hopefully.
“Lava samples from the volcano.” Forty-Five Clicks said as firmly as he could. “For fun.”
“And why not?” demanded the human.
“I just can’t right now,” Forty-five Clicks said. “Just go ask the commander.”
“Will do then,” the human said cheerfully as he set off.
Forty-five Clicks flew up and passed over the backpack once again. He glared at the thermal armor. He had assumed it was only for rescue missions. His mistake.Project Budget:
One full color cover illustration.
A dozen black and white interior illustrations.
Printing costs: book.
Printing costs: posters.
I think it is plainly clear why I need an editor. Check out my painfully amateur video about the project here
A far more professional exam into my writing ethos here
. And of course my blog here.