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This is why Google was invented.  A quick search revealed that every island capable of hosting a permanent human settlement had a permanent human settlement.

But what exactly constitutes a “permanent” settlement?

The answer proved to be 30,
perhaps as few as two dozen,
but then things got precarious.

You see, a permanent settlement is one capable of producing a stable self-perpetuating population:  There are enough adult females producing enough children to replace those who die from old age, disease, or misadventure.

30 seems to be the golden number; any fewer than that and one run of bad luck wipes out your chances of staying abreast of the death rate.  Your population can’t reproduce fast enough, the old soon out number the young, and eventually you die out or get absorbed by a larger band.

There are numerous islands in the Pacific too small to support a village that could support a smaller band, say ten members or less.

Slowly, the island itself started to come into view.

Bidney Island (I named it after my aunt who gave me the Swiss Family Robinson book) needed to be small and isolated.  It couldn’t be part of a larger chain or archipelago or else natives might drop by on occasion.

No problem, there are lots of small atolls, reefs, and islands in the Pacific that the South Seas Islanders use as fishing camps, staying a few weeks or a few months then returning to their permanent villages.

Such an island could support six to ten people indefinitely.  And with two vast fleets roaming the Pacific in search on one another, there was precious little incentive for any long range fishing trips by the Polynesians.

To work it had be far enough away from Australia to not be part of their network of coast watchers (civilians and military personnel who stayed hidden but scanned the seas for signs of Japanese ship movements; see Father Goose, yet another schoolgirls-shipwrecked-on-a-desert-island story only with the added attraction of Cary Grant and Leslie Caron).

But that would mean the island could be a potential target for either side, which would bring the story to a screeching halt whoever found the girls.

So Bidney Island had to have no military value.  That required a small, shallow lagoon, too tiny for large ships to harbor in.  It couldn’t be a flat atoll but needed a big volcanic cone right in the middle of it, making it useless as an airfield.

That wouldn’t keep the combatants away forever,
but it would make Bidney Island a very low priority for both sides.

(to be continued)


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As I said, I wanted my story to be easily relatable to contemporary readers.

A girl in 1812 inhabited a vastly different world technically and, as a result, culturally from a girl in 2012:
No cars, no airplanes, no supermarkets, no electricity, no TV, no Internet,  no telephones, no flush toilets.

But a girl on 1912 lives in a far more familiar culture:
Cars and planes (albeit primitive), electricity in most homes (ditto plumbing).  TV is still just a gleam in Philo Farnsworth’s eyes, but there are movies.  Radio is just beginning, but newspapers are linked by wire services.  No computers, but adding machines and typewriters exist so number pads and keyboards are everywhere.

And there are telephones.

Split the difference — 1962 — and not that much changes.  TV and radio, to be sure, but no Internet yet.  Still, most of the changes are in style and degrees; the world of 1962 is easily understandable to a reader in 2012.

Problem: You can’t lose a bunch of school kids in 1962, either.

Split the difference again — 1937 — and suddenly the solution presents itself.  World War Two, at least the Pacific portion of it, started December 7th, 1941.

Now we have a logical reason why no one comes looking for the girls:
All hell is breaking loose, and the loss of a handful of girls is just one more tragic drop in a bucket brimming with tears.

Problem: Every island worth fighting over was fought over.

This is why Google was invented.  A quick search revealed that every island capable of hosting a permanent human settlement had a permanent human settlement.

But what exactly constitutes a “permanent” settlement?

(to be continued)


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Found at SnokieStories-dot-com.

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Step one was determining who my characters were, which also meant determining when they lived.

I wanted them to be readily identifiable to my target audience (i.e., North American readers).  I have no problems re historical fiction, but I wanted my readers to feel familiar with my characters’ background so I could focus more tightly on the challenge of survival.

It’s awfully hard to lose a bunch of school kids in the 21st century.

They will be missed, somebody will come looking for them.

In Lord Of The Flies, William Golding handled the issue by integrating it into the core of his story:  Though never stated explicitly, the world his boys inhabit is engulfed in a great apocalyptic war.  The insane evil of nuclear brinksmanship was reflected in the deterioration of his characters’ civilized behavior.

Exploring the morality of nuclear war was not my intent; I wanted a story focused on survival, not conflict.

(Besides, it’s one thing to crib
the idea of kids shipwrecked on an island;
lots of books, movies, and comics have done that.
Using those kids as a metaphor for the collapse of
modern civilization is exclusively Golding’s idea.)

I briefly toyed with the idea of a great natural or astronomical disaster but quickly passed on that; I couldn’t see how the story could not be about the disaster instead of the desert island fantasy.

I use “fantasy” advisedly.  There’s no magic in Savage Angels, everything is within the realm of the possible.  But the idea of the desert island as a new Eden, as a place to begin again, to somehow Get It Right This Time holds a fascinating allure to writers and readers.

Then I wondered, what am I thinking about when I say “contemporary”?

(to be continued)

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I could backtrack a long ways to get to “the” origin of SAVAGE ANGELS, but let’s set our marker down here:

SERENITY started life as a monthly magazine concept; each issue would have a 45-page Serenity story, a couple of short stand alone stories, and an ongoing serial.

HITS & MISSES was supposed to be the first of those serials, Savage Angels was to be a follow-up.

Well, things changed.  Magazine publishing plunged into the toilet just as I started looking for partners so, finding no takers for a monthly mag, I went the original gn route.

…but that’s another story for another time.

Savage Angels came about during a long idea generating period where I was trying to come up with as many ideas as I could for the tween-to-teen / YA market (Angels is just the tip of the iceberg; wait till you see what we have on deck!).

I’ve always enjoyed shipwrecked-on-a-desert-island stories.  As a child, my grandmother and aunt gave me a wonderful slipcover edition of Swiss Family Robinson; I still have that book even though I almost read it to shreds while growing up.

And of course there’s the great-granddaddy of them all, Robinson Crusoe.

And Island Of The Blue Dolphins.

And even Gilligan’s Island.

And, probably most importantly re the origin of Savage Angels, Lord Of The Flies.

William Golding’s book is a harrowing tale of young boys stranded on an island descending into naked feral savagery.  It’s a kill-or-be-killed tale, and it does not offer a comforting view of humanity.

So I wondered, would the story have been any different if it was a group of girls, not boys?

…and the gears started turning.

(to be continued)

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Coming Soon From Snokie Stories…



Coming soon from Snokies Stories
Preliminary art (not final) by Drigz Abrot
Savage Angels (c) Buzz Dixon & Snokie

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Writing The Great American eNovel On My Smartphone: I Perform A Sex Change On An Indian


Things change, things stay fluid, things are in a state of flux.

It ain’t over ‘til it’s over, and the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley.

The Old Indian was in my story from the very beginning.

Years and years ago when I first began organizing my ideas for The Horse Story, I saw The Old Indian playing a brief but crucial role in the climax.

Mentally I cast Chief Dan George in the role.

And as will happen, on my way to the climax I started re-thinking some of my ideas.

This is a YA novel aimed primarily at female readers; I looked at my characters and, even though my four heroines were of the female persuasion, there was far too much testosterone in the rest of the cast.

So, easy enough to change:  Here and there, where logical, supporting characters got gender reorientation editing.

The last one to go under the metaphorical knife was The Old Indian.

I describe her thusly:

She could be 40 or 400.  She wears a black bowler style hat, a long sleeve tribal dress of vivid color and design, and — incongruously — hot pink running shoes.

Go figure.

You couldn’t do that with Chief Dan George.

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Writing The Great American eNovel On My Smartphone: I Killed ANOTHER Horse At the Gym Today


She wasn’t supposed to die.

She wasn’t one of the horses in peril, she was (more or less) an innocent bystander dragooned into service.

And when her part of the story was done, she was tired and scared and cold and hungry and thirsty and was desperately looking for some human to take her back home to her nice warm stable…

…and in a fit of pique The Bad Guy puts a bullet right through her eye.

I didn’t know it was going to happen until about three paragraphs before I wrote the scene where The Girls had to abandon her.

(Originally I didn’t even know her name, she was just an ambulatory prop, but once I realized she was doomed then suddenly she became a character:  Buttercup, an older mare; good, steady, dependable ranch work horse.  Really deserved a lot better than what happened to her.)

I didn’t even know a horse was going to have to be abandoned until I realized the peril had to be ramped up an extra notch, and my four heroines — now reduced to 3 horses (two girls must ride tandem) — needed to have even more problems before the resolution.

So take another horse out of the running (literally) and force the last two girls to double up.

But what happens to the abandoned horse?

And then I realized that the Bad Guy would not — could not — let her live.

There is an ugly, cold, irrational rage deep inside him; there wouldn’t be a story if he could be bought off as any rational person could.

And that rage would manifest itself at something.


An innocent thing.

A thing looking desperately to him for help and hope and salvation.

The Bad Guy, I might add, is a real d!ck.


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Writing The Great American eNovel On My Smartphone: I Killed A Horse At the Gym Today


To my surprise (and relief!) I find myself able to do a considerable amount of writing while at the gym.

Jes’ set me in the recumbent exercise bike, hand me my smartphone, and I’ll pedal away for hours while typing.

(I can’t read the tiny screen while wearing my glasses
so I have to take them off & hold it close to my face.
Since the gym pumps a neverending 80s hit parade over the speakers,
I’m able to enter quickly & completely into my own little world.
42-inch flatscreen HD TVs may be Seriously Overrated.)

As posted previously, The Horse Story involves moving a herd of horses from Point A to Point B, with problems along the way.

The herd has an alpha male, Old Blackie, but his luck runs out on the trek.  He breaks a fetlock, and circumstances are such that he can not be rescued, can not be saved, and just abandoning him would only leave him helpless in the face of ravenous predators.

So my heroines decide to kill him.



I’d like to think it’s a heartbreaking scene; it’s certainly shocking.









I will say nothing like this ever happened while writing My Little Pony.

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Feedback On “Writing The Great American eNovel On My Smartphone: I Get Nervous”


The redoubtable Kip Williams sent the following comment re this post:

I remember having the same problem, albeit as a thought experiment, as
you are having writing your novel. It happened when I was reading a
Superman comic about Luthor or Toyman or somebody making “toys” that
consisted of a realistic replica (and you know how realistic those could
be in DC comics!) of a crime scene, complete with the crooks making one
mistake that brought a toy Superman in to arrest them. The twist was
that all they had to do was avoid that mistake, and they had a plan for
a supposedly foolproof crime.

And that’s when it hit me. Do you want to be so realistic that you tell
kids — or anybody — how to commit a crime? If you’re not, you’ll get
snooty letters from knowitalls anxious to show their cleverness. Do you
fudge over the details? What?

As I recall, I ended up without any firm answers. I’m personally okay
with fictional plans that don’t work in the real world, I guess. I did
get a National Noid cover out of it — the one showing a crook escaping
from a jail cell while watching a TV showing how to do it.

…which in turn reminds me of the “I’ve Been Here Before” episode
of the old Car 54, Where Are You? TV series.

Crooks get ideas for crimes by watching a TV police show, taking careful notes to avoid doing the things that get the TV culprits caught.

Dimbulb Office Toody (Joe E. Ross) is also a big fan of the show, and he astonishes his fellow officers by figuring out the seemingly impossible to solve crimes.

However, when his superiors realize he’s getting his solutions from a TV show, they also realize the crooks must be using the same show for pointers, so they contact the network which cancels the show and replaces it with a children’s puppet program.

…and the next night the crooks try to rob a grocery store dressed in bunny costumes…

Kip adds:

It occurs to me, belatedly, that I’ve found the reason so many Star
Trek plots resolved with the judicious application of Bolognium in the
Bafflegab Matrix: They just don’t want to give any ideas to criminals
in the future. It’s really pretty admirable.


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