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M is for Magic

Magic is fun. Not necessarily for the characters, though that might be true part of the time. Magic is fun for the writer.

Tired of gravity? Taxes? Alarm clocks? You can have characters that fly, turn straw into gold, or exist in a world of wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff.

Of course, the act of writing is magic of a sort. I sit here with a blank computer screen and a wealth of words in my head, and after a while there's an insubstantial twist of electricity that can lets people all over the world, people I've never met, maybe people who aren't even born yet, experience something that started as a figment of my imagination.

Magic is making
The world conform to my will
Whimsical Wizard

So, Who wants to play? If you could, what law of nature would you thumb your nose at?


( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
Apr. 17th, 2013 11:35 am (UTC)
And since we're on the subject, more or less...

Praise in Summer/Richard Wilbur

Obscurely yet most surely called to praise,
As summer sometimes calls us all, I said
The hills are heavens full of branching ways
Where star-nosed moles fly overhead the dead;
I said the trees are mines in air, I said
See how the sparrow burrows in the sky!
And then I wonder why this mad instead
Perverts our praise to uncreation, why
Such savor's in this wrenching things awry.
Does sense so stale that it must needs derange
The world to know it? To a praiseful eye
Should it not be enough of fresh and strange
That trees grow green, and moles can course in clay,
And sparrows sweep the ceiling of our day?
Apr. 17th, 2013 02:51 pm (UTC)
My world is one of wibbly-wombely time, but I think this one is too, so...

If I could do away with a law of nature, I think I'd breathe under water--because flying is just too typical!
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )


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