There's mileage in a plot like that. Nothing interesting ever seems to happen to the main character, but whenever he bends down tend to his turnips, armies trample past behind him with banners and flowing robes, just skirting the parish boundaries as they head off for who knows what. The nearby market town disappears one day, leaving behind just a vague shimmering, but he never finds out what happened to it. Strange colours are seen in the sky to the west (and east and north and south) but the sky over his house is lovely. Hmm... Not quite sure how to develop the story from there, though. :-)
Though I did once write a story that consisted of short scenes each from the viewpoint of a different character, in which each of them was busy with their own lives, when they saw a fragment of an incident that they didn't understand, and weren't that interested in, anyway. However, the reader was able to put all the fragments together and understand the huge big story that was actually taking place. So you might be able to piece together the fantasy novel by comparing notes with neighbours.
I've never come across chips and American TV as antidotes to fairies, before. Maybe that's where Tam Lin went wrong?
Though I did once write a story that consisted of short scenes each from the viewpoint of a different character, in which each of them was busy with their own lives, when they saw a fragment of an incident that they didn't understand, and weren't that interested in, anyway. However, the reader was able to put all the fragments together and understand the huge big story that was actually taking place. So you might be able to piece together the fantasy novel by comparing notes with neighbours.
I've never come across chips and American TV as antidotes to fairies, before. Maybe that's where Tam Lin went wrong?
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