Dan Goodman's prediction and politics journal.

Sunday, May 16, 2004

Sunday May 16, 2004. I went to the Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden and Bird Sanctuary with Pat Craft. I like looking at flowers and other plants (including poison ivy, of which there was at least the one labeled specimen). Pat also likes growing them, and knows a lot more about them than I do.

There were a lot of dead tree parts lying around, ranging from pieces of bark to large logs. Which, in a genuinely natural habitat, is how it should be.

For an encore, we went to the Peace Garden in Lyndale-Farmstead Park.
On predictions (continued): A while ago, someone explained to me that with nanotechnology, people wouldn't have to live in crowded places like Manhattan. I explained to her that very few people have to live in Manhattan.

Flying cars replacing ground-only cars is just around the corner. It was just around the corner decades ago. They've been built; they haven't sold well enough to continue being made. I don't think technology is the problem; I think people just don't want them.

Videophones replacing voice-only phones has also been just around the corner for decades. In the 1960s, AT&T was certain PicturePhones would sell. The only trace of them now is their use in the movie 2001.

Cell phones have been approaching closer and closer to being videophones. So I suspect that the day really is coming when most people own phones which can be used as videophones.
Whether they'll actually be used that way is another question.

Selling people what you think they want is much harder than selling them what they think they want.
Writing: I posted this to rec.arts.sf.composition:

'Something about reading this thread made me realize that what I need ("structure" may not be the right word) is: theme, situation, viewpoint character. In about that order of importance; but till I have all three, the story doesn't go anywhere.

'Did I mention that, till I realized this, I was certain that consciously working with a theme was a very bad idea?'

***Today's exercise: There were too many people in the way. I wouldn't have minded killing a few, or even all; if they had found their way to this room, they deserved to die. But I couldn't get a clear shot at the Entreator's Chair, particularly at the one spot (halfway down the right front leg) which I'd been told was most vulnerable, with them screening it from me.

There was only one thing to do. I handed the gun to someone who was nearer to the Entreator's Chair; the gun would tell her what had to be done.

"Well Met, Well Met, My Old True Love" -- the bones of the story are almost all there, now.

Killing Futures -- Tinkered with it a bit.

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