Hobadink Gobblewacker is the reason I hate writing fantasy stories.
He ruled Oolanyeasp for three hundred years.
With rigid instructions dispatched from his Ivory Tower.
Everything had to be neat and tidy.
Forestry, for example, had to be:
- Evenly planted
- Trunks uniform and round
- No branches
- Harvested regularly
So it was.
Until I made him stand outside.
With outstretched arms.
Palms facing skywards.
And become a tree.
Which is how I should’ve started the story.