So now I have to figure out phases of the moon and sunrises and sunsets for various locations and times in the fiction book I’m writing. I love looking stuff up, but constant checking tends to cramp the flow of the writing. Still, if I mark it and leave it, I’ll probably overlook it somehow.

The Great Writers don’t bother with this “scientific accuracy” stuff, particularly those famous for fantasy. In one short story that was supposed to be science fiction (“Golden Apples of the Sun”), Ray Bradbury happily stated that something had a temperature of 1,000 degrees below zero. Someone pointed out the physical impossibility of this (or maybe something else). I don’t remember the exact answer, but I do distantly recall it being a very well-mannered statement that basically translated into “eat me.”