This is the 12th in a deep-dive series on the stories in Rick’s newest book, Random Precision. The following blog includes spoilers.
“Pièce de Résistance” may be the most deceitful story I’ve ever written.
Allow me to explain. I’m an epically finicky eater. It’s a lifelong issue, one that, thankfully, hasn’t caused any health issues so far. For example, I hate vegetables. All of them. The tastes, the smells, the textures. Rarely I’ll pick at a salad. I dislike nuts, eschew nearly all fruits and most seafood. (I recently learned this is an actual condition akin to a sensory disorder.)
So, knowing all this … how was I able to describe the tastes and textures of the foods in this story if I never tried them?
The answer is, a lot of online research. I perused cooking and baking websites, looking for descriptions of the smells and flavors. At times I swapped out food choices that I thought might send the messages that the Breadbreakers or President Grimes intended because I couldn’t be sure if I truly understood what a dish tasted like.
My closest friends, when they read this story, would ask, “You didn’t actually try all those foods, did you?” I always owned up.
President Grimes isn’t modeled on any particular POTUS, though I’ve got a couple in mind. He mostly reflects that common human desire to leave a legacy—a desire that drives some people to do the most outrageous things.
In case you missed it, “talking on the big white telephone” is a euphemism for vomiting into a commode. I thought it was a funny, if gross, way to start the story. For the record, I actually did try calamari once—but it was deep fried. Even so, I’m not a fan.
This story won a Science Fiction Writers of Christianity short story contest. Given my earlier observation that this is my most deceitful story, I’m amused by this.
“Pièce de Résistance” may be the most deceitful story I’ve ever written.
Allow me to explain. I’m an epically finicky eater. It’s a lifelong issue, one that, thankfully, hasn’t caused any health issues so far. For example, I hate vegetables. All of them. The tastes, the smells, the textures. Rarely I’ll pick at a salad. I dislike nuts, eschew nearly all fruits and most seafood. (I recently learned this is an actual condition akin to a sensory disorder.)
So, knowing all this … how was I able to describe the tastes and textures of the foods in this story if I never tried them?
The answer is, a lot of online research. I perused cooking and baking websites, looking for descriptions of the smells and flavors. At times I swapped out food choices that I thought might send the messages that the Breadbreakers or President Grimes intended because I couldn’t be sure if I truly understood what a dish tasted like.
My closest friends, when they read this story, would ask, “You didn’t actually try all those foods, did you?” I always owned up.
President Grimes isn’t modeled on any particular POTUS, though I’ve got a couple in mind. He mostly reflects that common human desire to leave a legacy—a desire that drives some people to do the most outrageous things.
In case you missed it, “talking on the big white telephone” is a euphemism for vomiting into a commode. I thought it was a funny, if gross, way to start the story. For the record, I actually did try calamari once—but it was deep fried. Even so, I’m not a fan.
This story won a Science Fiction Writers of Christianity short story contest. Given my earlier observation that this is my most deceitful story, I’m amused by this.
RSS Feed
