More like Peter Orfoolian
Fact: when you get to at least a modicum of celebrity, such as the vast and unrelenting stream of hard-packed, oiled bodies and adoring masses chanting one’s name that comes from being an author of a book that involves a farting girl and a kid who wets his pants after shooting fire from his hands, things get a little weird.
You get strange emails. People tell you odd things. They sometimes ask you to look at growths on their bodies and sometimes sign them and you don’t say no because it’s sweet that they’re asking and you’re happy that people are paying attention to you at all and–
…anyway, if you’re the Ranting Dragon review site, your adoration comes in the form of a staple question posed to all interviewees: “How would you beat up Sam Sykes?”
In what may be the most divisive question to face society since “is there a God and does he hate me for what I do at night,” this is sure to have a strange and wondrous impact on the face of literature. If you are a reasonable human being, your answer will undoubtedly be “I won’t, it’s just impossible, he’s so big and handsome.” If you are slightly less reasonable, you might come up with some toss about providing me sport before I rend you asunder with teeth and claws.
If you’re Peter Orullian, recently-signed author with Tor and ageless child of 1991, though, you might provide the answer in the form of a weird-as-heck three-page fanfiction about an air guitar battle.
Go on. Read that.
Consider it a fond example of an exercise in denial. Use it well when you wish to write a scene in which there is no hope and fleeting ability to survive in the face of overwhelming odds.
Then consider what happens next.
Pretty intense, right? I was feeling a lot of stuff when that came out. Not all of it good.
I suggest you have a saunter over to this here poll and take your time selecting my name. Go on. Drift over it. Maybe make like you’re going to click Peter’s name and then back away shyly.
I want him to feel hope before I consume the rest of him.
Happy Friday!
Love,
Sam
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