Yes, that is Lae'zel's armor. Don't *at* me. Actually, do *at* me, but don't hold it against me.

Crap I did the simplification wrong.
L = (500+V)(M)(C+S)

I wrote this piece of flash fiction while following along in this lecture, by @maryrobinettekowal.com. Super fun exercise, and extremely well taught.

(Might I suggest the following simplification:
L = 500M(C+S) + V
Where V is the verbosity quotient, from 0 to about 300.)

youtu.be/blehVIDyuXk?...

“We did it!” He shouted to Klorgath. They had won their first portal derby. [8/8]

He Blinked again. The cheers of the raceway filled his ears, as his panicked mount darted by instinct toward the finish. The jockey leaned in and focused on the goal. In a flurry of spindly legs, his mount broke the holo-ribbon. The other ants clambered in behind. [7/8]

“Back at the bar!” he shouted at Klorgath. No response. “Klorgath!”

“Try clearing the quantum cache,” the technician finally answered. “I’ll load you the docs.

Instructions appeared in the jockey’s optical device, which he did his best to follow, furiously padding codes into his digisleeve. [6/8]

“Blinking,” came Klorgath’s reply.

Shit. Back in the spaceport bar, and the bartender has found a fucking can of bug killer.

The jockey steered his panicked ant to the underside of the bar, opposite the furious barkeep, barely avoiding the noxious spray. [5/8]

The sanitation table rumbled and hissed, discharging a spray of acrid water from a nearby hose. “Easy for you to say,” the jockey shouted back, as he fumbled to tap the restart sequence into his digisleeve while steering his mount away from the liquid. “Got it!” [4/8]

“Get me the hell out of here!” The jockey screamed into his transponder, just before Blinking again, this time onto the sanitation table of a surgical bay.

“Try to restart,” said Klorgath’s voice in the jockey’s ear, “and don’t panic.” [3/8]

Behind him, the drink materializer whizzed and crackled, as three more derby ants scurried out, their riders steering them this way and that.

The Blink went haywire, and Klorgath has some explaining to do. [2/8]

Masters of Magic. And the TSR gold box games. Also +1 for SimCity2000.

Jung would have a field day. I wish *I* could have a field day ... or just call in sick. I’ve been waiting half a lifetime to read this book.

It’s the year of our lord 2026. Y2K is a retro fashion statement not the impending cataclysm, and we have mobile phones now. Going online, I looked for her writing and finally found that book.

Not only that, it also came up that her works were written in first person. I had made that choice for my fic, and I have been struggling with it. I wanted to see how she did it.

“If he’s riding a horse through the desert for five days straight, and the horse doesn’t collapse and die, half your readers are going to throw that book across the room.” “You don’t put oak trees in a swamp.” I was smitten.

Among the names I had not previously known was @robinhobb.bsky.social, who was now stimulating my historian’s sensibilities with her exhortations to plausibility in fantasy writing.

Amid my recent serious and unexpected feruour of fiction writing, wanting to take the craft seriously, I came across the recording of a Worldcon 2025 panel with a couple of names that were immediately recognizable (even to someone who has read almost nothing but academic writing for two decades).

Last month, I finished a draft of my first work of fiction-- seventeen thousand words of Baldur’s Gate III fanfic that is not entirely smut.