h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Hi billypilgrim,

I remember... ah, it seems like so long ago. We began a conversation, but it seemed to stop short like a bug hitting a windshield. Well, I was in the Amazon rainforest leading a tour and now I'm back and no-one seems to be talking to me, at h2g2 anyway. But then, I've been writing other stuff. I posted one piece to h2g2. Here it is:

http://www.h2g2.com/A423884

I'd love to know what you think.

Hullo, and well met, Research Master. Ah, yes, I remember our conversation.I seem to recall we were having a lovely chat about books and writing (I, erm, actually revisited the forum to remind myself; I saw your post and thought "Ah, the writer guy...."). Anyway, we were having a lovely chat that kept being dragged off in different directions by some of the other guests.

I myself rarely spend time here at H2G2 anymore (as you will see if you note the dates of most of my last entries). Something to do with server problems at the Guide in months gone by, combined with a sudden awareness that I was accomplishing very little that seemed worthwhile with all the time I was spending online, and a still-present problem with my neck brought about by hours at a computer at work, and aggravated by hours more at my computer at home. I do visit my home page here frequently enough, though, to see if anything interesting's happened.

Glad to hear you're back from the rainforest. I read your article on the Galapogos and thoroughly enjoyed it. I'd love to go there myself one day, though I'm not sure my stomach could handle the trip. I especially like the way you incorporated senses other than sight to help paint a more complete image, and I found the use of the present tense very effective. (And I'm not the best at writing reviews, as you can probably tell). Well, to put it simply, it really made me picture being there. Poor crabs!! But that's the way life goes.

One small grammar point I noticed: the sentence that includes the clause "the plodding patience of lumbering giant tortoises, whose
shells come up to your waist, said to be over a century old;" made me start and say "My waist is NOT over a hundred years old! I'm barely thirty!" (chuckle) Ah, yes, one of my favorites: the misplaced modifier. Easy enough to fix!

I think it will probably be accepted, unless there is another article already written on the subject. Mark Moxon, the Head Honcho here, is quite an avid traveler, I understand. If you poke around you'll find a link to his personal home page. I think he's done a bit of travel writing in his day.

Keep in touch,
bp

Hi bp!
Good to hear from you, and my sympathies regarding your sore neck, and your struggle with the computer and its grasp over our lives... I too debate the balance of virtual vs. real time.

THANK YOU very much for your kind words about my Galapagos entry... such places are inspiring. Thank you especially, though for pointing out my grammatical error - now fixed! I'm planning to submit something like these articles to a travel magazine so any
comments are very useful.

About writing... I believe reading is the best way to become a good writer. That way, you learn writing styles, what works and what doesn't, and when to over-ride your word processor's inane suggestions.

TTFN, R.M.

Here's a question for you. How do you overcome that apprehension and the nonchalence and actually write? I love to write; I write almost every day. But whenever I start on a project, I get just a little way into it and stall. Ideas go round and round my head for weeks, whole storylines are formed, and then when it comes to writing them down, I hit a brick wall.

I feel sort of the way I imagine would if someone asked me to prepare a meal for two hundred people. I know how to cook, but the prospect of doing that much.... Well, I would just sort of sit there, looking at the food with a mixture of mild amusement and bland terror, waiting for someone to come along and give me some recipes. (Take 80 cups of flour. Add 36 eggs, 2 pounds of butter...)

I've read a few books on writing, and it seems to be most writers' biggest obstacle. They say you should write every day, at the same time every day. But if I could do that, then I wouldn't be asking the question.

So what was it, exactly, that finally gave you that push, that made you say "Yeah, I can do this"?

Waiting for inspiration,
bp

I think you are a great writer! I think you have potential to be a Great Writer. You write better than me.

On overcoming apprehension... I'm not sure how to answer this, because I don't have it - apprehension, that is. Here are some ideas:

1) I just get myself to a place (mentally) where any apprehension is so far away it doesn't matter. I remind myself writing is enjoyable, creative and, for me, a kind of therapy (saves on psychiatrist bills!).
2) The end product doesn't need to be perfect, just interesting, and reasonably well-written. If you're lucky, a good editor will tweak your words just enough to improve on an already fine piece. After all, editors are there for a reason, right?
3) It's tough to begin, continue and finish a project all in one go. I find the way around this is to have several projects on-going simultaneously. Then if one seems at a dead-end, you go on to something different.

As for my book, the hardest thing was getting it published... a very demoralizing process. I wrote it in stages. It began as information packets for clients on Amazon tours I was leading. More tours meant more packets, until I had a huge pile of information. Then someone asked me if there was a guidebook on the Amazon. There was not. Then someone suggested I write a book, compiling the information I had already written. That was pretty much the "push". I wish I could say it came to me in a flash of light, or in a dream, but the truth is more prosaic. I guess the take home lesson is write what you know, and write what people want to read. Then the inspiration will follow, and the project will sort of finish itself.

Those are some thoughts for now. If you are not over modest, e-mail ([email protected]) me some of your work, and I'll be happy to comment. Sometimes it helps just to know someone else is interested!

R.M.

I may take you up on your offer to e-mail you something one day soon. I've been rather busy the past few days, so I haven't had the chance to take a look at anything that might be suitable.

What is the title of your book again? I'd like to wander over to Amazon (the book store) and check it out. Did you have many rejections before you found a publisher? I hear it's difficult for relatively "unknown" authors to get their foot in the door. Did you use an agent or go it alone?

Interesting story of how you decided to write that book. I've heard it's like that for many people; there's something out there that they try to find, only to find it doesn't exist, so they write it themselves. Or, in the case of fiction, there's a story they think needs telling, but no one's told it yet.

One day, when I get the motivation to spend years doing research, I want to write a book on the non-Jewish victims of the Holocaust. Out of an estimated 10 million people put to death, about 6 million were Jewish. That leaves 4 million people with untold stories...

Well, I just found your book on Amazon.com. Very favorable reviews (except for one poor soul who found it "over-written" and "academic". Ah, well, can't please 'em all...).

Impressive.

Ho bp!
Sorry I haven't kept up on this correspondence - like you I want to balance my time between the real and virtual worlds. I was rather hoping you'd have e-mailed me a sample of your writing by now! No pressure! I just want to see where you're at in your projects and offer what advice, encouragement, cajoling (and consolation if necessary ) I can. So one day when you're famous you can tell people, oh yeah, that Amazon guy! He was there at the beginning. One suggestion: try writing short pieces, say 500-1000 words and send them to every magazine you can think of. Lots of print publications take internet submissions - a much more efficient route than snail mail. Here's one I'm working on right now - it's called Tasting Dragon's Blood. Let me know what you think.
RM
Tasting Dragon’s Blood
On the eastern side of the Andes, the road from Quito to Lago Agrio twists and turns like a dancing anaconda. The rough track is bumpy and slick. It hugs mountainsides and crosses deep ravines over rickety wooden bridges. Looking out the window, it’s hard to admire the scenery when all you can see is a 1,000 foot cliff plunging down a steep-sided gorge.
Yet, it’s necessary to realize there are times when one’s life is truly in the hands of another (this time a sleepy Ecuadorian bus driver). Consigning myself to whatever fate has in store, I stare through the dewy window. Craggy mountains covered in damp green poke at pulsing clouds. The vegetation clings to near-vertical slopes, and is broken here and there by pencil thin torrents cascading down into unseen depths.
A road sign flashes past. Suddenly I realize it says "Rio Reventador" – my stop. Hey, I had told the bus driver to let me off there. I run forward, tugging my backpack, "Señor, aqui no mas!" (= here no more, i.e. stop!) I yell. The bus skids to a halt and I lurch forward, colliding with a passenger sat on the floor of the over-crowded vehicle. The doors hiss open, and I step down. "Muchas gracias," I say, more in relief for my safe departure than to the driver. The bus disappears around a bend, and I trudge back to the turn off.
Rio Reventador begins high on windswept moorland, descending fast to meet with the Rio Napo, one of the Amazon’s major tributaries. I’m headed for a "lodge" to explore the area around the Reventador Falls, Ecuador’s biggest waterfall.
The sun rises bright and warm. Volcan Reventador rising to 15,000 is shrouded in mist, but for a moment clouds part to reveal its summit – a perfect cone. This volcano has a history of violently erupting without warning, although experts presently consider it dormant. Even so, there’s a certain tension in the air and I wonder if my fate is to be buried beneath a mountain of lava and volcanic ash. But Pedro, my guide, is nonchalant, and comments on how lucky we are to have got a glimpse of the mountain’s peak, apparently a gift granted only to a few.
Our trek begins along the pipeline. A massive artery built to transport crude oil from the fields near Lago Agro to refineries near Quito on the other side of the mountain. In the 1980s, the pipeline was built by a major oil company (Texaco) and is now maintained by the Ecuadorian state oil company. Much controversy surrounded the construction, which devastated large areas of pristine cloudforest, and much lowland tropical rainforest. However, my feelings are mixed. The road that brought me here was part of the construction project. The buildings I stayed in last night were converted from cabins for the survey team. The pipeline we are following offers an easier path than any jungle trail.
To be fair, there’s little of interest along the swathe marked by the pipeline. A flock of swallow-tail kites circles above, flycatchers sortie out after their prey and insect sounds come from the forest flanking the unnatural gap.
But soon enough we head away from the pipeline, down toward the river. Now we’re in the forest. It’s not primary forest, as most of this area was logged to build the pipeline. Yet, much remains. There are more birds in this area: trogons, parrots and others. The insect life is richer.
I stop, kneel down, and peel off the top layer of leaves covering the damp forest soil. Countless motes of life scurry about – all incessantly moving toward their inscrutable destinations. Between and within the damp, papery leaves are masses of tiny white threads – the tendrils of fungi seeking sustenance from the dead. Yet these are part of life too, and unlock life-giving nutrients held by the dead plant, freeing them to be used by living plants. And just a few inches away is a sprouting seed, its roots already pushing into the leaf litter, its small soft leaves already reaching up toward the precious light.
Pedro breaks my reverie. "Mira, señor. Es el arbol de sangre de drago." ("Look, it is the dragon’s blood tree.") He whacks the trunk with his machete. Scarlet sap oozes from the wound. He dips his finger in the liquid and tastes it. "Es bueno, muchas vitaminas." (It’s good, lots of vitamins.")
I mimic. The sap has no flavor, but is strongly astringent. "Muy interestante," I comment.
Pedro again dabs his finger in the sap and spreads it on the palm of my hand. He rubs the sap, and soon it transforms from liquid red to a sticky pale cream. Pedro tells me the sap is used as an antibiotic, most effective at curing infected wounds. This is confirmed by my later research. ("The latex is used to heal wounds… the hemostatic sap… accelerates wound healing." p. 58 in Amazonian Ethnobotanical Dictionary by James Duke and Rodolfo Vasquez, 1994, CRC Press. The tree is a member of the Euphorbia family.)
That’s how I got to taste Dragon’s Blood. Later that day, I discovered gold and named a river… but that’s another story!
(868 words)