About THE saga
THE saga is a collaborative novel, written by ten (10) writers, some of them with no previous published works. Three (3) of them, however, are world-famous, having been translated into simply oodles of languages and selling millions of volumes! These 3 are the zombies of Jane Austen, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Mr. William Shakespeare. Everybody had a great time working on THE saga – especially Ms. Austen (zombie)!
7 of these writers – including the 3 above named (another 3 having joined the ranks of the published on other projects) – have agreed to collaborate on a prequel (to be titled The Habit) – for which the film rights have already been bought by world-infamous blockbuster director Piotr Jacovich!!! With a possible sequel to follow.
We are generously inviting other aspiring writers (and illustrators) to join in this free-for-all! NO publishing history necessary! HERE is your opportunity to rub shoulders – on an equal basis – with some of the undead legends of English Lit.!
Well… not exactly a free-for-all: there are a few rules.
1) You are allowed to add a maximum of three (3) sentences each time to the novel.
2) You must wait for at least two (2) other collaborators to add their bits before you return to the fray.
3) You must be agreeable to ALL profits of this project going to worthy causes. (The profits from the first instalment [THE saga] will go to 3 groups who work with refugees. This is a cause very dear to Ms. Austen (who managed to shout down Mr. Tolkien), and profits from follow-up projects are likely to go the same way.
The following passage is a sample from THE saga. We hope that the same high standards will continue into prequel and sequel. (All wrongs reserved.)
Meanwhile, three sneaky, creepy, slinking literary agents slinked creepily and sneakily from under a large, moss-covered rock and slinkily crept their sneaky way over to the remains of the greatest undead novelist in the English language… bar none!
“A shame to waste our investment,” gargled one of them to the other two.
Schlepping the battered zombie away, they all squeaked sleekly: “Jane Austen shall rise again!” – JHiD
Two kilometres ahead already, Jon (remember Jon?) was taking a breather and combing the lovely, long hair on his legs. He KNEW that Aisha would soon smell him out (that awful aftershave that he'd been forced to use after his overnight stay at Luigi's) and face him down. Were red-heads ALWAYS this dangerous?!!! – WL
A particularly large Red Kangaroo (Osphranter rufus) – carrying a sunglasses-wearing Southern Hairy-Nosed Wombat (Lasiorhinus latifrons solisspeculi) in her pouch (both of them on a long-desired European six-month holiday “to take a squizz at the Poms and Euros” – startled Jon by landing right in front of him after a six-metre bound.
“Strewth, Cobber, this is a fair dinkum op shop, and I’m as dry as a dead dingo’s donger!” exclaimed the Osphranter.
“Pay no attention to her: she’s just skulled a whole row of gooms, and it’s fried her brain; she doesn't know Christmas from Bourke Street,” explained the Lasiorhinus. – EvD
Jon, in a vain attempt to maintain some degree of reality, could only stumble: “I’m afraid that I don’t…”
“Those gooms have dried me out: got any amber fluid on you?” insisted the kangaroo.
“You just watch it or the booze bus will be along to get you to blow in the bag… and I’m getting out before you make with the technicolour yawn: I’ve got to strangle the lizard, myself,” was the wombat’s contribution to the conversation. – JHiD
“The booze bus would have bloody hard yakka getting here: it’s beyond the black stump!” retorted the kangaroo, leaning forward to facilitate the egress of her stumpy-legged passenger.
“Do I understand that you would be appreciative of a beer?” asked Jon, fishing three cans of the ‘amber fluid’ out of the sack he had left lying on the ground, while the wombat delicately disappeared behind a tree to take care of business.
“You little ripper!” exclaimed the kangaroo, adding to the unseen wombat: “this bastard’s blood’s worth bottling!” – WL
[An (unfortunately: ONLY) nearly comatose Jane Austen (zombie) has asked her literary agents to pass on the following contribution to our work. Frankly, I’m getting a bit narked that she’s muscling in here, using up MY turns at bat, so that my own rules bar me from contributing original additions of my own. It is only crass commercial calculation (you see: I have a turn for alliteration) that urges me to cede my rightful place to her. After all, we’ll be able to splash “The NEW novel by JANE AUSTEN (and co-writers)” all over the front cover.
May I take this opportunity to urge ALL casual lookers-in to spare just a few minutes to add to this ambitious project? As mentioned elsewhere, what an opportunity to add to your CV: “I co-wrote a novel with Jane Austen.” (No need to mention that she was a zombie at the time, though – with some agents – this might work even more in your favour!) If more of you take part, I might even get to add some material of my own (sighhhh!) Anyway, here’s The Austen’s piece (and, frankly, she seems to me to have NO capacity for “getting into” her characters… but then, I always thought that she was highly over-rated). ~ note from the editor]
“To sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment,” opined the kangaroo.
“And yet there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort, do not you agree?” enjoined her as-yet invisible travelling companion. He could not forbear from adding: “A single kangaroo with a very narrow income must be a ridiculous, disagreeable old maid – the proper sport of boys and girls; but a single sheila of good fortune is always respectable, and may be as sensible and pleasant as anybody else.” – JA
Several cans and enthusiastic ballads later, Aisha perched unnoticed in the violated tree assessing the peculiar scene. Shoes in hand, she was poised for attack. She absolutely had to act while she still had the strength and while there was still beer. – VF
After 3 final full rounds of “Waltzing Matilda” (unexpurgated version) and 2 of The Pogues’ homage to that classic (not to mention several more “tinnies”), even the kangaroo was spiffed. The three dringing, sinking companions fell into a stupor (do you really need an adjective to go with that?)
Aisha saw her chance! – JHiD
'How the bloody hell did we end up in Australia?' muttered Aisha as, hands on hips, she surveyed the scene. 'Oh well, if you can't beat 'em...'
Picking up the closest tinny, she swished it around before downing the remaining contents, as she considered what to do next. – HJ
Of course, it was OBVIOUS what to do next: open a few more tinnies, then make sure that they didn’t spill their contents onto the forest floor.
Half an hour later, Aisha was feeling a lot more clear-headed.
Or WAS she? – WL
(The initials, of course, belong to the respective writers: credit where credit is due (plus: you know whom to blame for the bad bits).
I’m afraid that it rather degenerated into chaos after this. (Just joking!)
What do you think? Are you up to the challenge? Are you down with this project? Did you find it all right? Or were you left behind?
A sneak preview of the proposed cover (it might get added to) can be found at http://la-granota.com/saga.jpg
If you’re interested in joining this franchise, please send an e-mail to saga@ (followed by this web-site’s homepage address without all that http:// business). If you can’t work that out…
If you haven’t just come from there, may we recommend – to all aspiring writers and illustrators (translators too, and anyone who’d like to be a beta reader) – visiting http://la-granota.com/beta.html