I’d like to announce the fact that I had an idea about unicorn manure and I ran with it. And by that I mean, I wrote a book about it. An entire book.
Behold! Here it is in all of its glory:
It went like this:
- I like Portal fiction
- What if the person abducted had a very mediocre destiny? That would be funny, right? Right?
- What if … they were abducted to shovel unicorn manure? What if it’s toxic to everyone but Humans?
- *gasp* Why, Mr Spock – I think we’re onto something
I wrote a short story about the idea (‘one moment I was washing my car, the next I was neck-deep in manure‘ reads a highly attractive line), chuckled to myself, and then put it to the side, confident that I was quite hilarious and a genius. (These are dubious facts.)
Then, a few years later, I read the short story again, chuckled to myself and thought I was quite hilarious and definitely a genius. (Again, the facts are dubious.) But I went one step further – I decided that I’d write a book on that single premise.
And so I did.
That ‘and so I did’ sounds so … simple and laid back. It was not that simple. It was not that laid back. I had to seriously consider the implications of unicorn manure. I dedicated so much time to it. (Put that epitaph on my gravestone thank you very much. Follow it up with ‘a life well lived’.)
The heroine transformed from a 21st century girl with pop culture references and poop puns into a determined Victorian woman with flame-red hair and no poop puns.
And then, of course, in the lead romantic role is Mr Sorrow who isn’t the coolest dude to ever dude … but … I like him. He’s dope. He’s cool. He’s also an alien.
It also has:
- toxic unicorn waste (… you’re welcome, humanity)
- a slow burn romance
- unicorns but also not quite unicorns
- furniture flying around (it’s ONE scene but … you know, it’s freakin’ Pulitzer winning. Ah-hem. The way I describe a table in flight? Well it could never be accused of being poetry but, well. It could never be accused of being poetry.)
- everything going wrong
- a Victorian heroine caught up in the middle of everything, determined to set everything to rights and then have a cup of tea like a boss.
It’s called A Most Irregular Prophecy. It’s not just about unicorn poop anymore. (Wow. What a tagline.)
“I didn’t have anything left to do except to die. I would do it nobly. With dignity. Preferably after a moving speech.”
A monstrous Natterdash is waking, the dread Wizard Tig is stalking Planet Ora, and a new Prophecy regarding their destruction has been announced. In the central role? A Human abducted from 21st century England and cast as The Foretold One.
Long time captive and full time Suffragist, Victorian Primula ‘Vi’ Ravensbourne is dragged into the mix to act as translator and Thrawk keeper. With unseen enemies, reluctant Foretold Ones, and a gift that is Most Unexpected, she’ll soon find that all is not as it seems.
Vi may want the populace to have a Voice, but one must be alive in order to speak. Can Vi help fulfil a Prophecy that is rapidly running off track, and off script?
It’s coming your way the 30th of July. That’s this year. 2021. Just so you know. (I once stayed up for a book release only to find that I’d got the wrong year.)