“I will not be its illustrator.”S.T. Ranscht, author of Space, Time, and Raspberries.
“Good.” Everyone viewing this page.
The only thing Raspberries wants is to go as fast as lightning. But when the teacher says, “Nothing can go as fast as lighting — it’s a Scientific Rule,” Raspberries must either give up the dream or keep trying to break the Rule, even though no one knows what will happen if the Rule breaks.
My beta readers (ages 5-9) — and their adults — have given me such excellent feedback on my most recent edits, that I believe Space, Time, and Raspberries is finally ready to meet the right publisher.
Glad you could join us for the next beguiling episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning tothe beginning, and reading really fast…
Feeling an itch for excitement in the very soul of his single-footed self, Elliot forged a path up the hill that stretched further than even his fully extended eyes could see.
As his muscles, undulating beneath his glimmering skin, drove him ever forward, the sun rolled lazily across the sky, slowly stirring the air in its wake to blow a warm dry breath over his streamlined form, mocking his efforts with the very real threat of dehydration. His confidently rapid gait struggled against the parching wind and the thirst it left behind, and his progress slowed to the pace of a sleeping sloth.
A dark tendril of doubt crept over the crest of this endless uphill landscape. Should he admit defeat and turn back? Can a person ever go home again?
I wonder if questioning is a cycle of humanity’s evolution. Surges of exploration, scientific discovery, extraordinary creativity in any of the arts all seem to coincide. Golden Ages like the Renaissance or the Age of Aquarius. Revolutions. Times when dissatisfaction saturates enough people’s lives that we reach a tipping point where the collective will is finally strong enough to question the rules, Authority, what we think we know, what we believe. And we search for new perspectives, trying this philosophy or that, new music, new art, new medicines, no medicines, new governments, anarchy, new views of the stars . . .
Till we reach a new plateau where we sit, complacent. Tired of questioning or simply believing there is no need to question. Willing to accept the lie in believe. A new Dark Age. We are comfortable.
Until we aren’t.
I suspect the world is showing us just how uncomfortable we have become, and dissatisfaction has reached the 98th monkey.