Copyright J.B. Norman
As previously stated, I’ve been posting a lot of Conan-inspired things today to commemorate Robert E. Howard’s birthday — which was actually yesterday.
The “Howard” should be a pretty good indication that Howard R. Morton is a homage to the real Robert E. Howard, though beyond that, they don’t actually have that much in common — for one thing, I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibility that Robert E. Howard was autistic (with the caveat that I’m not crazy about psychoanalysing historical figures, though he does remind me of myself in a lot of ways).
Incidentally, this is especially true of how Vincent d’Onoforio (himself possibly autistic) plays him in the movie The Whole Wide World, which I actually bought my Mom Christmas one year to force share my interests with her.
All of which is to say, Howard R. Morton is mostly meant to be a Pulp author in general, than a particularly in-depth equivalent to Robert E. Howard…
Howard R. Morton stares sceptically down at Dunstana.
“Hear me out,” she tells him. “When, suddenly, a Dragon.”
“I’m sorry?”
“When, suddenly, a Dragon,” Dunstana repeats.
“I heard what you said,” the author notes. “I’m just not sure why you said it?”
“When. Suddenly. A. Dragon,” she says, slowly and clearly.
“Right. But what does that mean?”
Dunstana rolls her eyes.
“Man, your whole job is to do words good. You’d think you’d, you know, be better at words,” she says. “It’s not hard, Mr. Mortguy — like, come on, whenever one of your stories starts getting boring, four simple words to make it instantly awesome: When. Suddenly. A. Dragon. Heroes stopping for the night and think they’re safe? Dragon! Just beat the evil wizard? Dragon! It’s too quiet? Dragon! Gross, boring romance scene? Especially a Dragon!”
Howard R. Morton continues to stare sceptically down at Dunstana.
“Well, you certainly seem to like Dragons,” the author notes.
Dunstana rolls her eyes. “Duh,” she answers. “I’m ten.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that Krimson Katja should fight a Dragon on every page?” Howard says.
Dunstana nods. “Sounds good to me.”
“But that would completely destroy the thematic arc of my stories,” Howards protests.
“Pfft,” Dunstana scoffs. “That’s boring. People don’t read books for that. People read books for the Dragon-fighting! Nobody reads a Krimson Katja story and thinks Wow, you know what this needs? Less action! And what’s more actionful than fighting a Dragon? I did that once, it was awesome.”
“Now, when you say people, do you actually mean people, or do you just mean you?” Howard asks.
“That’s not important,” Dunstana” insists. “What’s important is Dragons. Specifically, fighting them. You need more Dragons, you need bigger Dragons, and whenever there’s no Dragons, your characters should be asking Where’s the Dragons?”
Howard reaches for his notebook and starts writing.
Dunstana grins.
“See? It’s a great idea. Yeah, yeah. Write it down, write it down!”
“Actually,” Howard answers. “You’ve just given me an idea for a new Krimson Katja character.”
“Really? Cool! What kind of character?”
“Well, I’m thinking some kind of horrible, little Imp or Gremlin or something —” he begins, scrawling down notes.
“Uh huh, uh huh,” Dunstana says.
“— Who’s crawled up from the deepest stygian blackness of the lower nether deeps of the infernal regions,” he continues.
“Uh huh, uh huh,” Dunstana says.
“ — and who emerges to haunt Krimson Katja’s every step and every waking moment with pointless, ceaseless natter and obstinate commentary questioning every little thing, and who cannot be silenced nor banished nor exorcised by any mortal craft or skill,” he concludes, at this point literally dotting his I’s and crossing his T’s.
“Okay, cool,” Dunstana says. “Where’d you ever get an idea like that? I never would have thought about something like that. But when Krimson Katja and this Nether-Gremlin, or whatever it is, meet up, you know what has to happen, right?”
She stares expectantly up at the author. He stares expectantly down at her.
“When, suddenly,” Dunstana says, “a Dragon.”
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