damselfish | (no subject)

Sometimes it's just worth it to write a story not caring about markets. I know, I know, advice is "just write the story you want and if it's good someone will buy it" but as a veteran of the 9,000 word novelette, that "someone" is very few and far between and usually buying for a themed anthology (my best advice to aspiring short fiction writers, learn to write things under 5,000 words. Then when you're famous people will buy your 9,000 word oddball size stories.).

So when I decided to redo Beast's Dressmaker about a boy in a dress shop who makes dresses for a beast-girl, I realized it was too long and probably too fuckin' adorable for anybody to want, so I went wild, and this candy-coated wonderland of teenage awkwardness and fairy-fueled technology was the best thing I could've done for myself. Well that and figuring out how to stagger my medication through the day, but suddenly I feel good about writing again.

The fact that I spent a ridiculous amount of time researching hummingbirds probably helped.

At Fairchild, along with the new science village they opened up a butterfly exhibit, and I went because butterflies are cool. The first time I went it was a cold morning, so there were few people and the butterflies were lying around freezing. And I heard this strange chirping-- a sharp, abrasive, almost mechanical sound. I can recognize the usual local birds by call, but not these. Then I saw a little missile zoom past me.

They've got hummingbirds that aren't the least bit people shy. People go for the butterflies but honestly, the hummingbirds are a greater selling point to me. Last time I went I stood there while a Costa's hummingbird watched me with all apparent bemusement from his perch. I'd never seen a hummingbird before that wasn't busily on its way elsewhere, and I was fascinated by this fearlessly tiny thing and his flashing purple bowtie. We get hummingbirds here--we're on the migration route--but as I'd grown up in the suburbs and now live in a condo, I don't have much occasion to come across them. Mom gets bahama woodstars, apparently, but never when I'm at the farm.

I started googling around for information and came across some names.

Black-eared fairy.
Various sylphs.
Various coronets.
Various sabrewings.

"Man if that's not the cast of a fantasy story--" and it was! Or at least a couple really good jokes, but that's not entirely the point, here.

I knew some of these hummingbirds because I follow bird tumblrs, so I knew the long-tailed sylphs and the crazy-looking spatule-tail, but I also came across things with names like helmetcrest and starfrontlet and with the sabrewing I wonder who on earth thought such martial names were good for hummingbirds.

"There's a lot of pufflegs--" and then I googled me some pufflegs, realizing only afterwards that a google image search for "puffleg" was probably not safe but fortunately for once in google search history, it kind of is.

Pufflegs have little boots. LITTLE BOOTS.

Man the only thing better would be to combine the little boots with a crazy tail and you'd have my perfect bird-- what do you mean, it exists and it's common!?

It is the booted racket-tail, which I thought was "booted racketeer" at first, and I sort of prefer.

No way. That's amazing.

Then I found this video of a hummingbird in torpor. Upside down.

Come on, nature, you can't be serious. Could they be any cuter when they sleep--

Are these things for real? They can't be real.

So I don't think hummingbirds are out of my system at all.