In a recent blog post with the title '2012', I wrote the following:
Writing is a peculiar thing. It becomes more important (to the writer) than the things it is ostensibly contingent upon. The most familiar form of this is the way a writer (or other artist) might write with great bitterness of how he or she has been cheated of happiness, but then do his/her best to avoid happiness for fear that the inspiration for his/her work will then disappear.
Actually, though, I think a better example of writing becoming more important than that upon which it is contingent (at least to the writer) would lie in the area of social commentary rather than personal complaint.
I'll make something up to illustrate what I mean. Roger Sidereal has been working for five years on a mammoth trilogy called, How to Save the Dodo. Not only is it a tender tale of love between behavioural ecologists, it is also a work with a conscience, since its aim is to make dramatically clear all that can and must be done in order to save the dodo from extinction.
Halfway through the second volume, Roger finally plucks up courage to show someone his manuscript. "Is this an alternate world story?" asks his friend, Susan Hercolubus, 15 pages in.
"No. How do you mean?"
"Well, the dodo is already extinct."
"Already… extinct? Are you sure? I've been so busy writing I haven't had time to keep up with the latest dodo news."
Immediately he puts a search for "dodo" in on Wikipedia.
"You're right," he says. "Well, never mind that, damn it. I've spent five years writing this, and it's a masterpiece. I must simply carry on and finish it."
Susan has now skimmed through the first volume in a speed-reading kind of way: "But the plot of this story is intrinsically linked to saving the dodo from extinction. So, it's probably irrelevant now."
"No. It's the world that has become irrelevant – not my novel! I'll show you all! I will finish this, and then you will see. The dodo must be saved from extinction!"
He pauses… "What did you say about alternate world stories? Maybe I could use that in a letter to the publisher."
you could make them use their wings to administer their food in cages. then breed only the ones with the biggest wings. gradually they would be able to fly. then they could better elude predators and go on forever.i think they may have been very lazy. they got too fat to feel like flying. 40 lbs. that’s a big bird.well, in an alternate universe they may be ruling the earth.
Now we’ve solved that one, what about the thylacine?