My most recent novels feature poor kids born in the nineties. The f word is part of their speech and isn’t worthy of comment. The aliens don’t curse, blaspheme or use gendered slurs, a deliberate choice by one of their more charismatic leaders that the others fall in line with.
Any reader who’s going to be offended at the f word is going to *hate* my novels anyway since they’re jam packed with SJW ‘lunacy’, out poly characters, Icelanders being represented as having the best democracy on Earth (arguable I know), the Canadian bureaucracy being represented as composed of timid racist self-serving morons, white and POC characters pushing back on casually racist speech, pagan theophany, and an alien pregnancy description that… oh well; we know everything about FEmales is disgusting. Also guns and ammo, gender non-conforming characters, summary justice for men who spike women’s drinks, and an awful lot of oolichan grease.
I was in fact setting out to write a trilogy that the Puppies would find so eye-wateringly offensive they’d do my publicity for me. I’m thinking of emailing a PDF to one of their clownbag kings and sitting back….
Woke up to a dream that my fave tv actor instagrammed a pic of himself in a hotel bathroom smoking a cigarette and bumping cocaine.
I literally go six months at a time without a memorable dream and then my psychic cleaning brigade tosses up this equivalent to cat puke.