Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn’t. Mark Twain
“To attack Russian airbase, Ukranian spies hid drones in wooden sheds.” Reuters, June 1, 2025.
Drone wars.
I’ve “done drones.” My first usage was A More Perfect Union, which involved government drones flown by members of the US military. They were the “macguffin,” the plot device that drove the antagonists to do what they did so that Cici and Kevin (the heroes) could do what they did. Not that it was unsophisticated, but big drones in 2012 were the “Eye in the Sky” that sometimes brought missiles to the battlefield.
I revisited them, again as a means to an end, in An Intrusion of Trifles. Karen Sorenson had left law enforcement to be a pilot. The shift in her professions didn’t last. Again, drones were a way to drag a new character into being and give her something meaningful to do. This time, they weren’t the BUFFs of UAVs, though. They came in all manner of shapes, sizes and missions.
Now Ukraine, in the latest chapter of their continuing war with Russia, has launched drone attacks against a Russian airbase. Dozens of aircraft have been destroyed, including large intercontinental bombers. Details are sketchy (and, as is typical in war, unreliable) but some variation of the tactical theme emerged from hiding was employed. Some sources say they came from sheds, others describe shipping containers, or trucks. The exact mechanism is less important than that Ukraine, rather than mounting a multi-layered attack using a hundred $80 million airplanes and putting the lives of several hundred pilots at risk, they embedded drones. In theory, the personnel used were not physically present when the attack occurred.
People who profess to write professionally about such things have mentioned, sometimes in passing, that the capabilities demonstrated by Ukraine often defy (and sometimes therefore define) description. Consequently, what they demonstrate on the battlefield becomes part of reality. Reality doesn’t always play by established rules, or end well.
Which brings me to Amy 3 - the third Amy Painter novel. Once again a new character emerges, initially just to conclude a plot point. The next thing you know, she is up to her eyeballs in… It’s Amy, after all. It’s now the real world, so I don’t have to spend a lot of time in the imagine-nation.
Give it a minute.
The events that have shaped social media conversations (sometimes, it’s the other way around but I don’t write about… Okay, there’s Karen 5) gallop along faster than I can make a book take shape. My drone antagonists play imaginative, deadly games with UVAs on my pages today; real world combatants have topped them before I can work on the next chapter. My writing partner has scarcely jumped off “the porch” to get a drink of water when a friend in the bizz posts an article about the latest wired craft (it’s crazy). Drones living in a secret hanger until it’s time to fly? I thought I was clever. Now, I’ve been OTBE’d.
Overtaken by events.
My spouse and I attended the latest Mission: Impossible movie this week. Enjoyed it thoroughly, but a commenter on X found it “improbable.” Aside from referring them to the movie’s title, people who replied observed that only fiction is constrained by what is probable.
Reality marches on. It’s time to go back to Amy 3 and add details that would have been “improbable” yesterday because desperate fighters in an asymmetric war hadn’t yet let the world in on their secret.