I had something written. Then I deleted it.
I don’t want to talk about that.

And THEN I wrote something ELSE. And deleted that, too.

I’m reading Octavia E. Butler this week. I’ve read quite a few of her books, but I took the kids to the library for the first time in a couple of YEARS a couple of Saturdays ago, and my library actually had her books (if you can believe it — my neighborhood isn’t the best place but it ain’t the worst, either).
I saw Parable of the Talents, but knew in order to read Talents, you gotta read Parable of the Sower, first. So I timidly asked the guy at the counter if they still ordered books from other libraries — he said sure and I gave him the name and they ordered it — in a couple of days they called me and I went and picked it up.
I like it.
I didn’t know it was sooo dystopian. Dystopian-survivalism, I like that genre of everything. Because, to be honest, I don’t see a bright future for America. I see us heading downhill — and I’m sure most of us see it.
So… it piqued my interest.
She didn’t even finish the story. You’ve got Sower, Talents, and she was supposed to do Trickster, but moved over to Fledgling. Boo.
Who will finish it?
Wish I cared enough to take up the torch.
I like to write.
I have books unfinished all over the place. I write fervently, chapters upon chapters, for months on end (or I used to). Then suddenly , I stop. My mind is like “Story dun!” I don’t have anymore.
So no I won’t undertake it. I’d never finish.
But it’s almost black survivalist fiction. Wow. NEEDED. MUCH needed.
I read survivalist fiction and most characters are white Republicans who, as luck would find it, have all the skills they need for surviving the Pockyclips and living on from generation until generation, forever and ever, Amen.
And that’s bull. It’s not going to be THAT perfect and predictable.
There’s more I want to say but I can’t put it into words.
I want to do a video. Because there’s more I Want to say on this subject.
…but people DIE in Butler’s books. Characters that you’ve become fond of, on some level. They die on you. They are killed. They make mistakes and are raped and beaten, murdered and burned, their charred bodies etched in your mind long after you’ve finished the book and wakened back into reality.
And that’s how reality is. People die and are killed. People DONT have everything together and have all that they need to survive.
There’s ALWAYS something more needed.

…and to make this about polygyny, wives are great preps. Groups of adults bound to a family unit work very well together. The more there are, the greater the chance that “The Family” will survive.

AIIGHT AIIGHT I’m done. *pushes keyboard off desk*
Peace, y’all.

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