Lewis Carol once wrote a poem called “Jabberwocky” just to prove he could write something that was completely nonsensical. That poem set the tone of “Through the Looking Glass,” the sequel to “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
If you’ve never read it, the basic takeaway is that we should be wary of damn near everything you’ve never heard of. Between Jabberwocks, Jubjub birds, and Bandersnatches, you just couldn’t let your guard down when touring The Land of Wonder.
Roald Dahl, the mind behind The Fantastic Mr. Fox and Charlie and the Chocolate factory, also gave us nonsensical creatures to be afraid of. Hornsnozzlers, Whangdoodles, and Snozzwangers were just a few of the ferocious beasts that used to hunt and eat the Loompaland natives. As terrible as the work conditions must’ve been in that factory of pedicide, the Oompa Loompas had their hands full of murderous encounters in their homeland.
Literature is filled with ruinous creatures with wacky names. Nosferatu the balding vampire, Cthulhu the squid mouthed sky god, Kappa the perverted homicidal turtle monster—they might have funny names, but they should be feared for the mythos that surround them. I however admire them.
I guess I shouldn’t say I admire them as much as I should say I admire their creators. Writers, story tellers, yarn spinners, and liars have contributed some of the most fascinating and fantastical beasts that literature has ever contained. It’s amazing to say the least. The idea that writers can create worlds and beings so memorable is why I wanted to do this–it’s why I wanted to write.
I’m a fan of words, as nerdy as that is to admit, but I’m an absolute whore-ass-groupie when it comes to an unfathomably detailed creation. I just love it. There is a big difference between “the creature looked and sounded like a big dog,” and “the prodigious horror bared jagged black teeth at me as it’s deep barks echoed through the corridor.” News flash, one of those quotes made me horny, the other gave me an inverted penis. Take a guess at which did which.
Every time I hear about a story of Fantastic Beasts, I’m always anxious to learn more about them and to figure out How to Find Them (Ba Dum Ting). It’s what I live for. It’s one of my biggest motivators to finishing up my first book. I want someone to pick it up, read it, and then write me a letter about the tremendous orgasm they had during the last sentence. That’s why I do this. Words are sexy, details are erotic, but good stories require a cigarette and a baby wipe at the end.
Now how do I shoehorn in a warning about the dreaded colloquy epicure I’m going to transform into when you guys leave me some tasty comments at the bottom of this blog?
“I don’t conjure ideas. My thoughts have a consciousness all of their own. I simply wait for them to approach me on their own volition.” — Jae Davis (when he’s being a pretentious bastard)