Was it significant that your drone Skif-Camska had those particular initials, @The Judge?
Whose pen am I holding?
- Thread starter Astro Pen
- Start date
I'm quite sure it was no accident
It was indeed my attempt at Iain M Banks, and it was very cultural!
I'm lousy at analysing and replicating style -- I spent ages flicking through IMB's books looking for something to crib until I came across "were lounging in the sitting area of their generously proportioned suite of cabins in the [name of ship]" which fitted with my ideas! -- so my only hope was to lard the story with lots of clues eg ripping off names (eg Jernau Morat ) not least the drone's which I took from Skaffen-Amiskaw, whose intitials were indeed changed from SA to SC for obvious reasons. I'm kicking myself that I didn't put in "circumstances" but I was quite pleased with "mindless" and of course "A Nice Day For A Picnic..." but my pièce de résistance was the title! (Go Google!)
Anyway, fancy a go at attempting someone else's style, Peter? It's certainly an interesting exercise.
I'm lousy at analysing and replicating style -- I spent ages flicking through IMB's books looking for something to crib until I came across "were lounging in the sitting area of their generously proportioned suite of cabins in the [name of ship]" which fitted with my ideas! -- so my only hope was to lard the story with lots of clues eg ripping off names (eg Jernau Morat ) not least the drone's which I took from Skaffen-Amiskaw, whose intitials were indeed changed from SA to SC for obvious reasons. I'm kicking myself that I didn't put in "circumstances" but I was quite pleased with "mindless" and of course "A Nice Day For A Picnic..." but my pièce de résistance was the title! (Go Google!)
Anyway, fancy a go at attempting someone else's style, Peter? It's certainly an interesting exercise.
I thought it was a great effort and indeed, very clever use of another line from The Wasteland. Hands up, I would not have got that without the prompt.
I will see if I can get a semblance of something by tomorrow and let people know if it's not working.
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27
George Tozer hadn't been this scared in years. Not since sixth grade in fact, when he and Richie Denbow had been dared by Bill Chambers to spend a night in the old Bachman place out on route 27.
It took best part of a day to sneak up there and it rained the whole time but George thought it better than sitting through math and science and besides, Bill said that Chrissy Marsh was coming along and George had a crush on Chrissy the size of Voigt Field.
When they met up with Bill on the outskirts of Farmington, of course Chrissie wasn't with him but his older brother Henry was and he'd stolen two bottles of Scotch from Wilson's "Deli and General" over on Seventh, which made Richie happy. George didn't like whiskey back then - who'd have figured, given how it messed with his life now - but hadn't wanted to look weak. Next morning he'd met up with the first of uncountable hangovers.
All the kids used to say how Bachman had murdered his wife and children, butchering them as they slept. He denied it, right up until his appointment with "Old Sparky" at Maine State, maintaining that an intruder had broken in. Most said he came back each night, hunting for the murderer but others that the intruder was the one to be scared of, because Bachman was telling the truth. George didn't believe in ghosts and if a psycho had broken in and done for the family, well he'd be long gone seeing as the murders were years before.
He remembered the sense of foreboding that struck him when he first set eyes on that boarded up, run down, Cape Cod and only the fact he had nowhere else to go made him go inside. He could still remember the sound of Barker Stream, which ran right along the side of the house, and would swear to anyone who'd listen it was whispering leave as it gurgled its way down to Sandy River. They should have done just that, and then maybe Richie would still be alive today.
There it was again, that sound that had so scared him and taken him all the way back to that fateful night twenty seven years before. No surprise, seeing how it was that exact same sound that had been the precursor to the horrific events that followed. Somewhere in the house, every few minutes, someone (or something) was squeezing a kids bike horn. Just a gentle "parp parp".
...Like a clown would make.
George Tozer hadn't been this scared in years. Not since sixth grade in fact, when he and Richie Denbow had been dared by Bill Chambers to spend a night in the old Bachman place out on route 27.
It took best part of a day to sneak up there and it rained the whole time but George thought it better than sitting through math and science and besides, Bill said that Chrissy Marsh was coming along and George had a crush on Chrissy the size of Voigt Field.
When they met up with Bill on the outskirts of Farmington, of course Chrissie wasn't with him but his older brother Henry was and he'd stolen two bottles of Scotch from Wilson's "Deli and General" over on Seventh, which made Richie happy. George didn't like whiskey back then - who'd have figured, given how it messed with his life now - but hadn't wanted to look weak. Next morning he'd met up with the first of uncountable hangovers.
All the kids used to say how Bachman had murdered his wife and children, butchering them as they slept. He denied it, right up until his appointment with "Old Sparky" at Maine State, maintaining that an intruder had broken in. Most said he came back each night, hunting for the murderer but others that the intruder was the one to be scared of, because Bachman was telling the truth. George didn't believe in ghosts and if a psycho had broken in and done for the family, well he'd be long gone seeing as the murders were years before.
He remembered the sense of foreboding that struck him when he first set eyes on that boarded up, run down, Cape Cod and only the fact he had nowhere else to go made him go inside. He could still remember the sound of Barker Stream, which ran right along the side of the house, and would swear to anyone who'd listen it was whispering leave as it gurgled its way down to Sandy River. They should have done just that, and then maybe Richie would still be alive today.
There it was again, that sound that had so scared him and taken him all the way back to that fateful night twenty seven years before. No surprise, seeing how it was that exact same sound that had been the precursor to the horrific events that followed. Somewhere in the house, every few minutes, someone (or something) was squeezing a kids bike horn. Just a gentle "parp parp".
...Like a clown would make.
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- 6,384
Stephen King by any chance?
Yes sir.
Part of me is hoping that I mimicked the style sufficiently that it wasn't just the clues that made it glaringly obvious
I made a late swap of The Derry Standpipe for Voigt Field (also in Derry but far more obscure) but I think the other clues alone were a bit ott.
It was a challenge, seeing if I could write in the style of someone so skilled (in my opinion) and prolific but fun as well.
Over to you
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Thanks Peter V. Yes, I got clues from the text, but the style of the writing was very reminiscent of S.K.
Here's mine.
"I knew I should have stayed in bed" he thought as they were pushed out of the airlock.
The Universe is such a mind bogglingly huge place that almost anything is possible - well, anything worth mentioning that is. This includes entering into alternative universes. So as our two heroes are hanging around in the vastness of space, they just happen to be picked up by the crew of a mining corps spacecraft that was conveniently passing by. The Universe is also full of lots of funny coincidences: ""I knew I should have stayed in bed" is precisely what was going through the mind of a certain third-class technician as he reflected on last night's lager-and-vindaloo milkshake session.
"Who have we picked up Holly?" he asked the ship's computer with a yawn.
"Don't ask me" came the reply.
"Typical" interjected Rimmer, "there are computers out there with brains the size of a planet, we end up with one the size of a peanut."
"You try floating in space for three million years with just a cat for company, see how you turn out" Holly retorted.
"Hey, stop arguing you two. Look Holly, are they human?"
"Anyone looks human compared to you" snorted Rimmer.
"Look" said Holly, "all I know is that it's just a couple of blokes we picked up out of the vacuum of space. Why not ask them yourself, they're on their way to the bridge?"
"Leave this to me" said Rimmer, pushing Lister out of the way, "I'll be the one to make first contact."
Here's mine.
"I knew I should have stayed in bed" he thought as they were pushed out of the airlock.
The Universe is such a mind bogglingly huge place that almost anything is possible - well, anything worth mentioning that is. This includes entering into alternative universes. So as our two heroes are hanging around in the vastness of space, they just happen to be picked up by the crew of a mining corps spacecraft that was conveniently passing by. The Universe is also full of lots of funny coincidences: ""I knew I should have stayed in bed" is precisely what was going through the mind of a certain third-class technician as he reflected on last night's lager-and-vindaloo milkshake session.
"Who have we picked up Holly?" he asked the ship's computer with a yawn.
"Don't ask me" came the reply.
"Typical" interjected Rimmer, "there are computers out there with brains the size of a planet, we end up with one the size of a peanut."
"You try floating in space for three million years with just a cat for company, see how you turn out" Holly retorted.
"Hey, stop arguing you two. Look Holly, are they human?"
"Anyone looks human compared to you" snorted Rimmer.
"Look" said Holly, "all I know is that it's just a couple of blokes we picked up out of the vacuum of space. Why not ask them yourself, they're on their way to the bridge?"
"Leave this to me" said Rimmer, pushing Lister out of the way, "I'll be the one to make first contact."
Victoria Silverwolf
Vegetarian Werewolf
Douglas Adams?
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- Mar 9, 2007
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- 6,384
Victoria Silverwolf
Vegetarian Werewolf
The cantina was dark and cool. Nick liked to go there during the hottest part of the day and drink beer.
There was an old man at another. He drank tequila.
"He was a bullfighter." The waiter brought Nick another beer. "He was brave."
"It is a good thing to be brave."
"Yes."
The old man finished his drink and called for another. The waiter brought it to him.
He is still brave, Nick thought. Once he was brave in the bullring, and now he is brave in the cantina. For only a brave man would go to the cantina and drink tequila when he can no longer fight the bull and face blood and death. And I will sit here and drink my beer and not speak to him, because to speak to a brave man of his bravery is to make him less of a man, and I would not wish to make a brave man less of a man, for that is a thing that only a coward would do, and I do not wish to be a coward.
Nick drank his beer.
There was an old man at another. He drank tequila.
"He was a bullfighter." The waiter brought Nick another beer. "He was brave."
"It is a good thing to be brave."
"Yes."
The old man finished his drink and called for another. The waiter brought it to him.
He is still brave, Nick thought. Once he was brave in the bullring, and now he is brave in the cantina. For only a brave man would go to the cantina and drink tequila when he can no longer fight the bull and face blood and death. And I will sit here and drink my beer and not speak to him, because to speak to a brave man of his bravery is to make him less of a man, and I would not wish to make a brave man less of a man, for that is a thing that only a coward would do, and I do not wish to be a coward.
Nick drank his beer.
luriantimetraveler
Well-Known Member
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- Mar 15, 2021
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- 84
...Hemmingway?
Victoria Silverwolf
Vegetarian Werewolf
Ernest Hemingway indeed. All yours.
luriantimetraveler
Well-Known Member
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- Mar 15, 2021
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- 84
It took me a few days to work my head around this!
***
The night before their departure to Genesis, when the pre-flight checks and tests had exhausted themselves and left everyone near-wordless, an old man, a physicist, came to visit the mother of the twins, Margaret and Joan.
The darkness lay damp and hot over Orlando, and the Berrymans’ home, a late Victorian cottage that had survived almost three hundred years of hurricanes, swelled and creaked with humidity.
The physicist was let in the back door, to avoid the reporters at the front, and he stood for a moment in the doorway of the twins’ bedroom.
By the kaleidoscopic light of their galaxy night light, which threw imaginary constellations slowly across the ceiling, the twins could see the silhouette of the bearded man at their door, holding a Panama hat in one hand and a cane in the other. The old man was a tired king — hair combed back but over-long and curled at the ends, a tremble in his hands, eyes hooded and creased with weariness.
“How can you tell them apart?” the physicist asked. His voice crackled and rumbled from deep within, like a rocket burning upwards.
***
The night before their departure to Genesis, when the pre-flight checks and tests had exhausted themselves and left everyone near-wordless, an old man, a physicist, came to visit the mother of the twins, Margaret and Joan.
The darkness lay damp and hot over Orlando, and the Berrymans’ home, a late Victorian cottage that had survived almost three hundred years of hurricanes, swelled and creaked with humidity.
The physicist was let in the back door, to avoid the reporters at the front, and he stood for a moment in the doorway of the twins’ bedroom.
By the kaleidoscopic light of their galaxy night light, which threw imaginary constellations slowly across the ceiling, the twins could see the silhouette of the bearded man at their door, holding a Panama hat in one hand and a cane in the other. The old man was a tired king — hair combed back but over-long and curled at the ends, a tremble in his hands, eyes hooded and creased with weariness.
“How can you tell them apart?” the physicist asked. His voice crackled and rumbled from deep within, like a rocket burning upwards.
luriantimetraveler
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Mar 15, 2021
- Messages
- 84
JunkMonkey
Lord High Vizier of Nowt
me too.
Please tell me you got King
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