It’s a day off for me, the last one before I head home in March to do taxes and a few other things. Which is to say I have another month before blowing The Burg and taking that eleven hour drive back to Northwest Indiana. Then I’ll head off again in June after which–well, that’s a good guess. I may stay in The Burg. I may not. I may run through all the nonsense of trying to find another contracting job. Maybe by this summer I’ll be a big-time published author.
Yeah, keep dreaming, Cassie. It’s what you do best.
The scene was written yesterday, started late in the afternoon after lunch was an afterthought and there’d been a very short nap. It was written in parts, with the first eight hundred words completed before a television break, then the rest written in a mad dash to get to the end. When it was finished another sixteen hundred words were in the story bank, and my kids, Annie and Kerry, were last seen floating into the sky over the school, ready to spend an afternoon flying and exploring.
It’s curious that so long ago, when I named the school’s center for Divination and Numerology, I’d call it Memory’s End. Because the last couple of scenes had to do with memories, those remembered and those hidden, perhaps forgotten. I’d chosen the name because, at the time, it sounded like a good name for a place where memories weren’t actually needed, because truths past and future were discovered through far different methods.
Now these memories will have to remain tucked away for a while, though there are a couple of chapters in Act Two which will bring forth a whole different set of memories, and this will lead down another that will answer some hereto unknown questions. Maybe in another hundred thousand words you’ll see this happen.
I’ve already stated that whatever mysteries I’ve set up here at the end of Act One will find resolution somewhere in Act Three. The resolution may open up a can of mystical worms, but it’s going to make sense. Or as much sense as anything can make in this crazy world I’ve created. Here near the end of this current writing cycle, the world has become more real than I’d have imagined. And this last chapter has become something of a relief, giving me some room to play with the character, both in their joy and sadness.
There’s not much left to the story at this point. I’ll be honest, I’m going to miss these last three-and-a-half months I’ve spent getting this tale together, and I’m setting the week of 31 March as the starting point for Act Two. I’ll get back from the Indiana Home and start in on three months more at The Burg, and during that mine I can probably make a significant dent in Act Two. And whenever September starts, that’s the start of Act Three.
I have all this down. I’ll remember it.
This memory isn’t about to end.