Browsing the blog archives for August, 2010.

First 200 Words (part 2)


We can’t believe a whole week eight days has already gone by since we posted First 200 Words (part 1). Time flies when you are going to the post office every day to mail books. Without further ado, the first 200 words of:

“The Pollinators”

by Rhys Hughes

       Nosy Sam was in big trouble and so were the other three occupants of the stolen air coach. A missile was rising towards them from one of the small islands far below. It was the moment he had long been dreading, when his ingenuity would be tested with his life.
     At first it appeared the projectile had locked directly onto them and the elegant curve of its vapor trail could easily be extrapolated in spacetime to the precise node their vehicle would soon occupy. Veering was useless, for the radar in the missile’s nose and the control circuits that operated the gyros were too sensitive and efficient.
      Sam held his breath, felt the tickle of sweat on his nose.
      To his relief, the equations altered.
      The missile had clearly found a new target, one behind the coach, and its exhaust nozzles had swiveled accordingly. Sam waited another instant before pulling a handle that released the drogue. A small explosive charge severed the steel cable and the dummy coach fell behind on its chute. The missile headed for that victim instead.
      The decoy erupted in flame and unsynchronized noise.
      The shockwave propelled them far out to sea. There was a humming …

(Copyright © 2010 by the Philip J Farmer Family Trust)

Can you remember what Farmer novel Nosy Sam appears in? It’s going to drive you crazy trying to remember. Save yourself the headache and order The Worlds of Philip José Farmer 1: Protean Dimensions so you can read “The Pollinators,” we’ll tell you what novel right in the introduction, we promise.

Keep watching this space for more 200 word excerpts.

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First 200 Words (part 1)


For your reading pleasure, and because we like to tease…here are the first 200 words from:

“Newly Born, Newly Dead”

by Philip José Farmer

     Warped from the amniotic sea, I anchored temporarily on a warm dry bed. Outside was a howling snow storm; nearby the frozen Wabash. Father, meanwhile, was wading hip-deep in snow, a lantern in hand, looking for an obstetrician and an honest man. That fearsome season, wolves whipped by hunger came down out of the Canadian forests to snap at Hoosier asses. It was Fimbulwinter; the Frost-Giants were sharpening their icicles in readiness for Ragnarok. The Red Baron was counting his 60th notch or so on his coup stick. A swarthy, sick, Austrian gnome was shivering in the trenches and dreaming of Götterdämmerung.

     Forty-eight years later, while science roars down the mountain road, brakes burned out, accelerator jammed, the Pithecanthropus hitch-hiker wishing he had walked, I crouch in a cave in Beverly Hills, I watch Plato’s Magic Lantern show, eyes wet and burning with smog and the human comedy, nose running from inimical pollen and carbon-nitrogen oxides, hands over ears to soften the anguished and joyous screams of children playing on the sidewalk and to dull the bellow and curse of motors revved by drivers hurtling towards the red light of nothing, the Yellow Gold Brick Road turning green beneath the …

(Copyright © 2010 by the Philip J Farmer Family Trust)

The rest of “Newly Born, Newly Dead” can be found in The Worlds of Philip José Farmer 1: Protean Dimensions. Keep watching this space for more 200 word excerpts.

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