I'm a reader not a writer. I would weave tales if I could but Literature and Music are my addictions of choice and always have been. Inside a good book, the worlds that open are far bigger and deeper than almost any film can ever be. Growing up I would spend the night reading incredible biographies, animal stories, fairy tales, westerns, mysteries and occasionally comic books. The lure to simply stay up all night reading is still only overcome with difficulty as stories are like C.S. Lewis's "Wood Between the Worlds", a glorious respite from reality, or a way to survive it with sarcastic humor.
So, to those who write and bring to life amazing universes populated with incredible personalities and fabulous creatures; all I can say is "thank you"!
Note: VVC's FF page; One of the very best HP Fanfics I've ever read: (Secrets by Vorabiza at
Err, (cough, cough) if anyone felt impelled to write fan-fiction about the Black Company. I keep having brief glimpses of an awesome story involving the Taken, set during the Pastel Wars every time I hear the lyrics "I Set Fire to the Rain". Perhaps the backstory to ShapeShifter's staff?
Some other things I like:
“The Price You Pay”: How Bruce Springsteen Explains Donald Trump
MARCH 8, 2016 BY ANDREW DEYOUNG - (the stake)
"But certainly it feels as though we are coming to the end of something. As though we’re stepping up to the bank of a river. Is that the promised land on the other side? Or something else? Heaven on earth, or a hell of our own making? I don’t know."
This article resonated with me but partially because the song did - if curious listen to Bruce Springsteens recording by all means but then check out Emmylou Harris's version from the Cimarron album: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOs5-WKZyHU
blogger Scott Alexander - Slate Star Codex:
The old man stamped his boot in the red dirt, kicking up a tiny cloud of dust. “There’s a new sheriff in town,” he told them.
“No, I’m pretty sure that’s impossible,” says Parmenides. “There’s no such thing as change, only the appearance thereof.”
“Well then,” says the old man, “I reckon you won’t mind the false illusion of your surroundings appearing to change into a jail cell.” And he took out his six-shooter and held it steady.