The best work is the one that is never completed, let alone started. Such work lives, no, thrives and shines in our collective imagination, like the kingdoms explored by our younger selves, delving in big gardens, no adults around. Just the shadows of old, mighty trees, paths, stones and desire for adventure.
I might have a stab at this. I’m not sure where I should start with it, the kind of stance to keep regarding violence, what to do with the dogs and with other kids. Heck, I might make it ultraviolent and slap a fat “18+” on its cover. And I couldn’t even publish it before July 2013 anyway.
I’m not sure. Design decisions bring the matter of dreams down to earth, where it has to cope with limitations, inability, laziness, lack of interest and derision. Failure does not bother ideas. They’re just there, over the Hyperuranius, carefree, unfazed, timeless.
Well, I can’t even find the first volume of “The University Bookshelf”, which is supposed to hold the story. I have no idea about who the author is, or what the story is about. It might be an excellent exercise anyway.
And yeah, I wish the title was about “Undergarden” but, sadly for you all grognards, it’s not: “Unsergarten” means “our garden” in German, and from my daft speculations it’s a tale of a kid becoming the king of his house’s garden, exploring it with his dogs.
A bit of introspection and typing told me that my feeling of being unimpressed by reality is probably caused by my new job and trying to finish A Fantasy Game: both endeavours show interesting unexpected developments, but keeping the helm in the correct direction while seeing the boat drifting can be a bit daunting. No, scratch that: I’m afraid of being afraid. I guess everything will be fine.