Some disparate things came together this week. First, because my novel has aliens, I guess it’s science fiction. OK so I’m on Wikipedia looking at the definition of science fiction to see if there is some crucial element I should include. Wikipedia describes science fiction as the literature of ideas. I like that. Sounds better than stories about outer space and computers.
Second, a friend is buying a gift for me at a book store. I didn’t have the heart to ask for an Amazon gift card. They want to go to a book store, fine by me. Anyway, they are looking for Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by one Philip K. Dick, who I have probably not so obviously modeled my pen name after. They don’t have the book, but they will order it. The girl at the counter says and here is the point, I read Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? in school. In School? Really? I know I didn’t. this blows me away, I had to read fucking Beowulf and Othello, good stories but I’d rather read Dick. Anyway back to work you lazy stiffs.
Thanks for checking in.