While I’m waiting for them to print The Silver Trumpet, I’ve got an idea for another fantasy series that just can’t help but make boxcar-loads of money.
I’ll call it A Throne of Games–I’m already offering the TV and movie rights–and it will feature beloved fantasy characters with really cool names.
Tydibol, the drop-dead gorgeous Invincible Female Warrior who does jumpin’, spinnin’ kicks.
Gassex the Crusty But Benign Old Wizard who talks like a text message.
Clairol the Buxom Tavern Wench, always up for a good time.
The Duke of Pez, villainous beyond belief, with a castlefull of monsters.
Solgar the Strong, the drop-dead gorgeous Hunk, Invincible Male Warrior with this really thick neck, it’s hard to tell where his head begins, who does jumpin’, spinnin’ kicks.
Plus a multitude of drop-dead gorgeous know-it-all Elves, insatiably lusty Dwarves, and all sorts of supporting characters who have absolutely no morals and commit all manner of revolting crimes.
Because, you see, in A Throne of Games, everyone’s bad–unless they’re, like, this total victim who’ll be lucky to survive two pages–and so the reader doesn’t have to decide who to root for, he can just sit back and enjoy the sex and carnage. In fact, these characters are so loathsome, even I’m turned off. Whose idea was it to get me to write this garbage? Well, confound it, I won’t! And I am withdrawing those movie and TV offers as of this confounded minute!