The Future Without Shades

First off, Happy Flight 19 Day!  If you’re not sure what that is, pick up Close Encounters of the Third Kind and watch the opening where the sun came out at night to sing.  You can also read about them here.  Just remember:  anyone can get lost on a dark and stormy night, especially us writers and post World War II fliers.

Second, if you were expecting to see another excerpt today, sorry to disappoint you.  I got home last night pretty much burned out and not feeling good, and since I had something else to work on, I got into that for more than a few hours.  By the time I got around to my writing time I couldn’t really get the scene started, and the hundred or so words I did write seemed pretty weak.  So I’ll recharge as best I can today and start on it tonight, because things are gonna get said in this scene, and a few more secrets will pop out.

"And then Kerry loses it and kills his whole family!"  "Really?"  "Do I look like I'd lie?"

“And then Kerry loses it and admits the real reason he’s going to the hospital all the time!” “Really?” “Do I look like I’d lie?”

And that last part brings up the third part here, the telling of secrets.  If you’ve been following the comment sections for the last couple of months, you’ll see I’ve been engaged in a conversation with one of my readers over this novel–in particular, there’s been a whole lot of questions about Annie’s and Kerry’s relationship.  Some of the questions have made me thing, some have made me smile, some have made me sad, and some I’ve laughed out loud after reading them.  But there seems to be one answer that I inevitably come back to almost every day:

“I can’t answer that because it hasn’t happened yet, and if I did, I’d give things away.”

That’s really one of the hardest things I have going for me in this series, because I have pretty much meta-plotted out a lot of the story for like–well, actually, decades.  It’s one of the reasons I have a time line that goes out beyond a hundred years of their lives, because I needed to know how they lived, how their friends around them lived, and eventually how they all died.  I’m like that because I’m a bit strange, right?  I mean, who knows their characters to death–and beyond?

Along the way over the last three years I’ve let slip a few things here and there.  We know Kerry will come out as a witch at the end of his B Levels.  We know that Annie and Kerry end up in the middle of Russia in the middle of the night and see an aurora–I actually had two blog posts on that.  Back in December of 2011 I first mentioned The Polar Express, a trip Kerry goes on for a weekend, and I left clues here and there that Emma is his wingmate on that flight.  All the way back in March of this year I wrote about an event where Annie and Kerry will be tested during their C Levels, and they’ll leave the school and head to the land of Walker Chow and hope they don’t end up the same way.  I’ve even mentioned, in sort of an off-hand way, that Annie and Kerry tour Europe one summer while they’re between levels.

That’s just a little of what’s a huge story–

Oh, and I mentioned I know what happens to them after they die.  Yeah, I even went there.

I’ve sometimes had to become a bit of an unreliable narrator so that I don’t give anything major away, and some of the things I have mentioned are painted in real broad strokes–I mean, okay, the kids go on a summer tour of Europe.  But what else do you know?  Not much, really.  I know it all, however, and sometimes I really want to spill it–but I can’t.

I have tons of notes and all my time lines, and a couple of months because I actually left written instructions on where all that stuff goes if something should . . . well, we know what I’m going to say.  Some lucky person gets the legacy of all this unfinished work, and what they do with it–if anything–is up to them.  They’ll get a huge first novel and then a lot of information on what could have been, and if they want they could give it all a go and write all that stuff out.

Or probably not.  I mean, I could easily have a good fifteen years ahead of me, writing full-time, getting all the story out.  Assuming it ever got published and read.

The future is there, and even though it’s bright I don’t need shades to see it.  All I gotta do is start up my computer, look over a few things, an instantly be transported to a world of my own creation.

I do wonder, sometimes, if someone else I want to show around will ever go there with me . . .

Come See Me Across the Water

Lookie here:  I’m being interviewed over on the blog of Jeno Marz, a writer from Latvia and author of the Falaha’s Jounery trilogy.  I’ve known Jeno for a couple of years now, and I have to say, this was one of the more interesting blog interviews I’ve ever done.

So come on over and see me!

Blog Hopping the Worldwide Artist Way

Do not panic!  I’m just taking control of programming and bringing you something else for a quick moment.  Trust me:  the followup to the dreams of Annie and Kerry are coming.

No, this is something I haven’t done in a while:  I’m giving a short interview for the Worldwide Artist Blog Hop!  I wouldn’t lie, no I wouldn’t.

I was nominated by the owner of HodgePodge Crochet, my good friend Tanya, and while most of the people she knows are of the crocheting persuasion, she’s also known me for a long time and also knows there’s not a lot of times I’ll say “no” to her, so when she asks if I’ll jump in on this sucker, I’m like, “Wait–you want me to do something?  For you?  I’ll get right on that, Missy!”  I didn’t actually act that way, but I gotta make it sound more exciting than me PMing her back and saying, “No problem.”

Does this housewife look like she'd say no to a good friend?

Beside, does this housewife look like she’d say no to a good friend?

It’s a simple process:  I answer four questions, and then I nominate two other blogers who may or may not accept this challenge.  I can’t get too upset if they say no, because I tend to blow these things off as well, but I’ll give it a shot and see if they go for it, or write nasty things about me in one of their blog posts.

With that in mind, let’s get to the questions, shall we?

 

Why do I do what I do?

I do it because these days I have to.  I’ve mentioned many times on this blog about the struggles I’ve had over the years with becoming a serious writer, and it wasn’t until I took a creative writing course in 2010 that I decided to give it a try and to keep at it.  However, I didn’t have much of a success at it until July 2011, when I was asked to write a story for a possible Halloween anthology.  With a bit of a push–and a lot of editing help–from Tanya (the same one who nominated me for this blog hop), I wrote Kuntilanak, and the rest is kinda history.  Since then I’ve kept at the writing, and next year I’m determined to start a big push to publish, either the self way, or through the “traditional” fashion.

 

How does my work differ from others of it’s genre?

This is one of those crazy, insane questions for which there isn’t any real answer.  I’d say my settings and ideas aren’t all that different from others, but I always try to come up with interesting characters.  In fact, I feel all my stories are character driven, as they are the one who actual make the story work, and keep the reader interested.  If you don’t have interesting characters, you’ll have to throw in a lot of Bayplosions, and I’m not good with those.

 

How does my creative process work?

Holy geez, as my character Kerry would say, I could spend all night talking about this question.  Let me try and keep it below the word count of my current work in progress . . .

Once I get an idea I think about it–a lot.  I might spend a month hammering out things like characters and plot, and as that happens I might begin to make notes about events and characters.

During this point I start actively piloting out the story, usually in Scrivener (my writing software of choice), though I will often check the story’s time line using Aeon Timeline, which is another great piece of software.  If I feel like I need to develop an event or character–either before I start writing, or during the process itself–I’ll jump into Scrapple and start making mind map notes.

By the time I get to writing, I know who my main characters are, who the secondary characters are, what everyone is going to do, who they know, who they like, who they don’t like, and who they’ll change opinions about.  I also know where the story is going, and while I may change a few things along the way–like deleting or adding scenes–I generally don’t have to because I’ve already roughly written the story in my head.  All I gotta do is, you know, put those words into the computer.

 

What am I working on now?

My current work in progress is a name titled The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, a novel I started on 30 October, 2013, a couple of days before that year’s NaNoWriMo, and am still going at strong, having already added nearly another forty-five thousand words since 1 November, 2014.  I know some of you are asking, “You’ve been working on this for over a year?  How big is this novel?”

Big.

Big.

Yes, that says three hundred and thirty-seven thousand, ninety-four words, and I’m maybe seventy thousand words from the end.  Maybe.  I’ve joked that this is my Infinite Jest, and it certainly is as big as any of the A Song of Ice and Fire novels, but without the character deaths–which I can change if I get bored . . .

I will finish this story, and it will happen early in the next year, and the fact that I’m going to add fifty thousand words to this by the end of the month means I’m feeling like I could actually add another thirty or forty thousand words in December, so maybe–I’ll finish it before 2015?  Hey, if I can type “The End” by the end of January 2015, I’ll be a happy girl.

 

There you go:  my answers to the four presented questions.  Now, the big question–who do I nominate.  Well, now, here we go–and don’t hate me, ladies, because I’m beautiful; I’m sure you can find all sorts of other reasons.

 

Burgess Taylor, who loves to write with coffee in hand and who feels like a true kindred spirit when it comes to getting those words out–even when she struggles with it, as I have from time to time.

And a friend from Down Under–Rachel Tsoumbakos, who not only writes novels but does some wonderful reviews of current TV shows like American Horror Story, The Walking Dead, and Game of Thrones.  We sometimes chat about all three shows–more like I leave witty comments on her posts and she witties me back–and more times than not her reviews leaving me smiling.  Just don’t ask her about her nick for Cersei, which means you will . . .

 

Okay, there it is.  Hope you had fun, and believe me when I say there’s another post coming.

Would I lie?

 

The Revise Side of Life

I know some of your are thinking you’re going to pop in here and discover a whole lot of stuff about these rune dreams I’ve been playing up the last couple of days, and that I’d have a whole lot of stuff word counted and ready to go for NaNo.

What I do have is a whole lot of almost nothing.

You see, it’s like this:  first, I had a hook up with some of my online friends.  They just happened to be in the area where my Panera is located (and should I be saying “my Panera”, but that makes me sounds like too much of a regular.  Well, the woman taking my order did have my ice tea glass ready to go . . .), and I couldn’t say no.  Right?  Right.

They even brought me a scarf.  Can't say no to that.

They even brought me a scarf. Can’t say no to that.

We were talking and talking and having a great time, and by the time they left for home I was there started to write–oh, and I had to post picture to the Internet.  I had to.  Don’t try to say no, Cassie, you didn’t have to, because you don’t know how the Internet works, do you?

So I make it home and someone I used to work with calls.  She needs someone to talk to because she’s suffering from depression and she’s looking for advice, looking for some comfort, looking for a hand to hold.  Given my life and my struggles, I’m not gonna say no, I gotta get to work on my novel.  I listened and we chatted and that was all there was there.  It’s an obligation one has to the human race that when you’ve received help from one person, you pay it back in kind for another.  That’s what I did, and I do hope I was able to help, and that the advice I gave put my friend’s mind at ease.

Now, I have been writing, but not a lot.  I mean, I hit five hundred words at Panera before I shut things down, but that’s not even NaNo Stylin’, if you know what I mean.  I’ve got maybe forty minutes to get my butt in gear and at least pop the word count over a thousand, perhaps get Annie’s rune dream written and get the kids talking about what it means.

Nope.  There’s a frantic PM waiting for me on Facebook . . .

Without going into any great detail again, a project for a group I’m part of went belly up due to someone’s sick computer.  Well . . . guess who was asked if they could step in and get the project going once more?  If you said, “Peter Capaldi”, because right now he’s got free time on his hands and would probably enjoy something like this, you’re wrong.  Oh, so wrong.

Tonight I have a lot ahead of me.  I need to start getting this new project together, which I can do while I’m waiting for dinner to cook.  Nothing fancy, just collect the data and getting into a Scrivener file.  Then, after I eat, jump on the novel and start getting the word count up.  I’ve less that fourteen thousand words to go to hit my fifty, I have ten days to get that done–and I’ll probably lose two of those days to travel to and from Indiana.  That means for the remaining days I need to get my two thousand words a day in, while also getting the new project edited–

Good thing I’ll not be doing much when I’m home.  Except seeing my therapist on Monday.  And visiting with a friend on Tuesday.  And Thanksgiving.

Yeah, I can do it.

And since you’re all so nice to me, here’s the opening scene for Annie and Kerry getting ready to rune.  Enjoy.

 

All excerpts, this page, from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)

Kerry flew his Espinoza over the southeastern shore of Lake Lovecraft, quickly cleared the body of water, and brought his broom to a hover in the clearing forming the northern shoreline. Annie hopped off as soon as her toes made contact with the ground, with Kerry joining her a few seconds later.

As he was propping his PAV against a nearby tree, Annie considered how accurate Deanna’s instructions had turned out. Kerry had asked about what happened with her, and he grew quiet when she told him they’d speak on the way back to the Great Hall. He’s listed to Annie when she told him what she was told about discussion the rune dreams, and offered the suggestion that he fly them there rather than walk. Since Annie knew his Espinoza could carry two people, and that he was a good enough pilot to have her ride passenger, she agreed to his proposal. And given that it was unseasonably warm—even now, a little after seventeen hours, it was twenty-seven Celsius—there was no need for them to change out of their uniform into something warmer.

Annie still felt uneasy about discussing her dream, but the more she considered the news that Kerry had a vision—one that Deanna said would tie into her dream—the more she agreed with the seer that a dialog was needed. In six month Kerry and she had progressed greatly in their relationship, but something remained between them, and Annie knew it was her unanswered questions about what they’d had together for years before—well, whatever it was happened in June last summer.

She wanted Kerry back—all of him. She wanted him to remember everything. Though it was possible her dream and his visions might push him away, the possibility existed that it would bring him closer—

She’d know in a few minutes.

Kerry stood facing Annie, positioning himself so she would have been on his left were they side by side. Even Annie had come to do this without thinking, keeping Kerry to her right. She didn’t think it strange or unusual that they did this, though she was aware that it was another thing that others spoke of often . . .

“Well, here we are.” Kerry looked around as if he expected someone to pop out of the tree line. “All alone.”

“Yes, we are.” Annie knew they were alone, and only one person mattered to her. “I don’t see any reason to delay this—”

“I don’t either.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew his rune. “I guess I’m as ready as I can get.”

Annie pulled hers from the small purse where she’d kept it since their first weekend at school. “As am I.” She transferred it to her left hand and slowly held it out for Kerry. She watched him do the same, ready to drop it in her right hand. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” He opened his hand and let his rune fall into her hand as Annie’s did the same. There was a moment where nothing happened—then both children recoiled a step as the enchantment that had held their tongues in check for six months vanished.

Annie closed her eyes for three seconds and let a wave of vertigo pass, while Kerry shook his head several times. Annie feared there was more happening with Kerry than losing the enchantment. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Just—” He held the back of his hand against his forehead. “That was pretty strange.”

“Yes, it was.” Annie waited until Kerry appeared to return to normal. “Do you—remember anything?”

He shook his head as he stared at his feet. “It’s like it just came to me. Like it’s always been there.”

“I feel that, too.” Annie swallowed hard. “I suppose we should . . . start.”

Kerry chuckled. “How do we do that?” He gazed off over the calm lake. “Who goes first?”

It was a point that Annie hadn’t brought up during their walk from the Witch House. “I was told to go first.”

Kerry noticed Annie wasn’t her normal assertive self. “You okay?”

Annie wanted to admit she wasn’t comfortable, but she knew that wouldn’t help the situation. “You’re going to keep an open mind?”

“I always have for you—” He tightened his grin. “Haven’t I?”

“You have.” She let out her breath slowly. “This is what I saw . . .”

 

NaNo Word Count, 11/19:  736

NaNo Total Word Count:  35,464

This Sorrowful Life

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything personal–okay, maybe a month, but for me that’s a while.  Or long time.  Or longer than I’m used to, but that’s how things are in my life.  And I should point out that I’m liable to say some things below that may freak others out, so if you are the kind the freaks out easily, depart before you abandon all hope.

If not, let’s roll on in, kiddies . . .

I’m mentioned, off and on over the last few weeks, that I’ve found myself fighting depression.  It’s not a lot of fun, let me tell you, ’cause it wears you out.  I once described depression as treading water in the middle of the ocean:  you’re doing all the work to stay above water while the ocean does nothing–it just sits there and waits for you to tire and go under.  That’s why if you don’t find a way to get out of the water, you’ll drown and die.  And the ocean doesn’t care ’cause it’s a force of nature.  Just like depression:  a force of nature that gives zero shits about you as a person, or for your quality of life.

And November hasn’t helped the situation much.  I’ve got a lot more pressure at work of late, and there’s NaNo, and I’m getting ready to head home at the end of the month for the first time in almost six months . . . it’s a mess.  Really, the last few weeks have started to engulf me . . .

My Resting Bitchy Face from this morning offers proof of this statement.

My Resting Bitchy Face from this morning offers proof of this statement.

Last Friday, right around noon, because I remember it being after I ate lunch at work, I started to find myself getting in a bad way.  I actually cried a little at work, but not enough that it was noticed.  Actually, nothing I do at work is noticed, so it’s not in any way unusual that people would see me sitting in my office starting to lose it.

It wasn’t until I made it home that things came right off the rails.  The moment the door shut behind me I began crying.  I was still crying when the computer came up.  In fact, I cried off and on for the better part of an hour straight, and spent the rest of the night floating in and out of the feeling that there was far too much pain in my life.

Last Saturday was my shot day, and I thought that might help me break out of the funk, but the moment the psychological effects wore off I was right back to being a maudlin little bitch.  Going out and getting makeup didn’t help; being out in the sun did nothing.  I felt as if nothing I did was helping break the feeling that, no, things weren’t going to get better.

By about three PM I’d already made up my mind:  there wasn’t any point in going on, so I might as well shuck this moral coil as fast as I can.

I started preparing for my death.

It’s not easy for me to say that last line, because that’s a hard point in your life when you hit the tipping point and realized you’ve gone from “if” to “when”.  I didn’t care, however:  once you reach that point you just wanna kept going.  It didn’t matter if I was finding the energy to love myself, because I wasn’t feeling any love coming back, and that’s something that’s so difficult to put aside an ignore.

So I started getting ready.  I knew I was going to record some videos and post them for people to view.  I rehearsed what I was going to say, and when I was going to post them.  I knew the manner in which I wanted to check out, and weighed the pros and cons of survivability.  I was all ready to go–

Save for three things.

One, that day was the last episode of Doctor Who‘s most current season.  Okay, so I sound like a geek here, but I had to see how the season ended.  Two, I was into Act Three of my huge, Infinity Jest-like novel, and that meant I was not only getting towards the end, but I was also coming up on a good part that I’ve been sitting on for over a year.  I’d made promises to people that I’d finish this damn thing, and I knew I couldn’t leave people hanging about what happens–and if that doesn’t sound like a writer’s ego hard at work, nothing does.

And finally, there are two people on my “If you die you’ll hurt them” list, and if I died now, I’d be in violation of Jacqualyn’s Law, which I named for a friend.  It’s a variation of Wheaton’s Law, though this one is geared more for women.  It says, “Don’t be a twat,” and I’d have been a massive twat if I did what I was thinking of doing.

So I settled back to watch Doctor Who, and when that was over I headed into writing.  I still hurt, I still found it difficult to get through Sunday–which I helped smooth out by doing more writing–and I made it into Monday, then Tuesday, then . . .

Here.  Today.

Last night I felt the depression coming on again, and I was really not looking forward to dealing with this crap.  Then I noticed someone I’d just reconnected with on Facebook was trying to get my attention.  She’s a transwoman from Canada who transitioned decades ago, and we’ve shared some information over the months.

We started talking, and we talked, and we discussed why I was depressed, and why I felt suicidal, and were there things that I wanted to do that may have made me feel this way.  And there were answers to those questions, and a lot more–

And by the time we were finished, we’d chatted for about three hours, and I felt a whole lot better than I had when the evening had started.

As you can see, I'm actually smiling a little.

As you can see, I’m actually smiling a little.

Things aren’t “over”, but they’re better.  Much better.  I had some plans I want to discuss with my therapist when I see her the Monday before Thanksgiving, and I hope she agrees that it’s time I actually move on these things.  I’m not feeling the trepidation about going home that I have had for a while–it’s going to be the first time I’m going to be Cassie with them full-time since I’ve started transitioning, and while I’m certain my daughter will be cool with it–after all, we went out shopping together as daughter and, um, other mother–I can’t say the other person in the house is gonna dig things.  Maybe I’ll have to cook a couple of good dinners to break the ice . . .  And I’m going to start taking the first steps towards getting my name changed.

But mostly I’ve chilled on the death stuff.  I’m still in the ocean, but I feel like I’m closer to shore, and if you keep moving towards shore, eventually you get up onto dry land and you don’t have to wear yourself out treading water.  And if I can’t get onto dry land, maybe I can get somewhere shallow enough that I can rest once in a while.

This Sorrowful Life.  Sometimes you find yourself surround by bad people and zombies, and you have the choice of either giving in and joining one of the two hordes, or you fight back against the hell that waits outside your walls.  Neither is an easy choice, but you have to make one, because doing nothing is not an option.  You must make a choice.

I mentioned in one of my last videos that you have a choice with transition:  become who you are, or die.  I said I’m trying to get off the death track and be who I am, and last night I finally felt as if I was bucking that first track and leaving it behind.  I hope to make it so.

I really do.

Count the Ways to Count the Story

With NaNo right around the corner–less than two weeks to go now–one of the key points that comes up again and again is, “How do I track my word count?”  It’s an important thing with NaNo, because you gotta run that 1,667 words a day count every day, or you’ll fall behind quickly.  The reality it, however, that when you write you usually have a need to know about how much you’re writing every day, and how big your story is becoming–or how many more words you need to write to turn a novelette into a novella.

Keeping track of your word count in easy in Scrivener, and there is a great deal of flexibility when it come to knowing the counts of scenes, chapters, parts, and even the whole novel. I do that to track my current novel, and I’ve used it with all my other works.

Let’s take a look, shall we?

The easiest way to keep track of your progress come from using your Project Targets.  This is done from the menu, using Project>Project Target, or by selecting Ctrl-,.  I show these all the time on my screen shots, and here is my current view.

I know, it feels like I'm bragging.

I know, it feels like I’m bragging.

Project Targets allow you to set the size of your story–the Manuscript Target–and how much you want to write while Scrivener is running–the Session Target.  Something to keep in mind here:  a session is the time that Scrivener is up and running.  If you bring the program up, type in 800 words, then close it and bring it up again later, the session bar resets:  it doesn’t track what you type in a day.

You can see that the pop-up window allows you to define your targets for both the full manuscript and how much you want to write.  Now, there is a bit of a cheat with the Manuscript Target:  notice the check box, “Documents Included in Compile Only”?  Yeah, that’s an important item.

Let’s first look at this screen, which is of one of my chapters in the recently concluded Part Seven:

I don't miss you, you monster.

I don’t miss you, you monster.

Over on the right you’ll see the column, “Include in Compile.”  Compile is the function that Scrivener uses to take all the stuff I have on the screen in front of me and turns it into a document of your choosing.  Such as–

I take all of Part Seven--

I take all of Part Seven–

Press the “Compile” button . . .

To 149 pages of awesome.

And turn it into 149 pages of awesome.

Whatever you have ticked off as “Include in Compile” will be converted into whatever you like by Scrivener.  It’s a great way to not only control what you print and create, but track your wordage.

But if you’ll notice, that’s a check box under your Manuscript Target.  With my story I have everything in Act Two–the part of my novel I’m currently developing–checked for Include in Compile, but everything in Act One is turned off.  Why?  Because I want to check my progress for Act Two only.  However, if I uncheck that box–

Now it really feels like bragging--

Now it really feels like bragging–

Everything in the manuscript–see the very top left of the Binder–is included.  And you can see how my progress bar jumped from the orange of Act Two–which is only about half way to the three hundred thousand total of the manuscript–to the bright green of “I’m almost to the end.”  Numbers and colors help you visualize where you are in the writing process.

You can see that even better when you are tracking the progress of your document.  Let’s look at the last scene I completed and check out the lower right hand corner of the screen.

Right down here.  See?

Right down here. See?

Click on that little dot and you’ll get another pop-up that allows you to set the total wordage for the document you’re working upon at the moment.

Three thousand seems like a good number.

Three thousand seems like a good number.

Hit Ok and you’ll see the following pop up at the bottom of your screen:

Look--new stuff!

Look–new stuff!

That first number–the 2,152–that number id always there–just look at the picture above.  Now you have your target number to the right of what you’ve written, and there is a progress bar next to the button, which is now red to indicate you haven’t reached your goal.  Once you do, that dot turns green:  trust me, it does.

This is also a great thing for keeping track of your progress if you’re bring up Scrivener and closing it several times during a day.  You can either keep everything in one document that you’re working on for the day, or adjust the target number as you go from document to document.  Easy Peasy.

Last of all, we can look at our Project Statistics, which you can find on the menu under Project>Project Statistics, or by selecting Ctrl-..  Scrivener will give you a snapshot of your identified manuscript–using your Compile and how you set up things under your Option tab–and what you may have selected in your Binder.  Here I’m identifying Act Two as the manuscript, and I’ve selected Part Eight.  So I bring up my stats, and . . .

Act Two seems quite the page turner.

Act Two seems quite the page turner.

Just so you know, I have my pages set up on my Option tab as three hundred and fifty words per page, so that’s how Scrivener figures that my Act Two is 370 pages long once you figure in the page breaks for Act, Part, and Chapter headings.  Not quite A Dance With Dragons, but I’m getting there–with fewer deaths, too.

There you have it:  so many ways to watch your counts.  Now all you gotta do is write.

Matters of Imaginary Life and Death

If you’re expecting to find stories here today, you’re sadly mistaken.  Yesterday–and last night–were some of the strangest there were, believe me.  It seemed as if I spent part of the day busting urban myths–which, by the way, I love doing, particularly when they’re of the heinous and vile kind–before getting into a discussion at the end of the evening where the term “Moving the Goalposts” became not so much an expression as a spectator sport.

"No, seriously, you win.  You've already expanded the argument past three stadium and a cricket pitch!"

“No, seriously, you win. You’ve already expanded the argument past three stadiums and a cricket pitch!”

At least the most interesting thing I learned last night if that if you have uncontrollable hiccups, the only way to stop them is by internal digital massage of your rectum.  Yes, that means exactly what it says.  You’re welcome.

"Go to the other room; I'll be in shortly.  That's a little nurse's humor!"

“Go to the other room; I’ll be in shortly. That’s a little nurse’s humor!”

Since tonight is “Go Out to Eat and Write Night,” I promise to finish up the current scene and start on the next.  I mean, I should be able to rip off over a thousand words tonight, I promise I’ll get cracking on the last scene in Chapter Twenty Three.  I wouldn’t lie.  Mostly wouldn’t.

However, I was working on a few things last night, if only in my head and talking scenes out loud.  One of them had to do with characters having babies–yes, that does happen, particularly to characters in my world.  It seems as if a few people have children:  the Headmistress does, as does Professors Simplen, Salomon, and Kishna.  Though the families don’t live at the school, some of the instructors teleport home and visit when they can–Professor Simplen does this a lot of Sundays.

I was imagining two of my characters discovering they were in a family way, and how they were affected by their feelings, and how they found themselves at that point.  That’s actually what a large part of my non-computer evening was about, and it was fun to be able to do something like that once more, because I’ve been away from doing things like that for the last month, and I need to get back into doing these things.

And then there were my dreams . . .

For some reason I had an extremely vivid dream last night, and it seemed to have something to do with an end of the world event–or maybe it was just the state of Pennsylvania finally running out of money and being unable to do anything.  I know part of it happened down on Second Street here in The Burg, because I recognized a few of the restaurants–one of which was on fire.  Someone must have been displeased with their appetizers.

But a large part of it had to do with getting a family out of the area and to–somewhere else.  I think Boston, because I heard that name come up a few times, and I knew we were heading east. The only problem was no one seemed to be in much of a hurry to get their asses in gear.  It appeared I was the only one with an agenda, and everyone else was like, “Eh, end of the world, let me finish this email.”  Really strange situation, and I couldn’t understand why I was there for a group of strangers who didn’t seem to care that I was there.

Had to be a group of editors.  Just had to be.