Close Out Returns


These days I find my mind wandering a great deal, and trying to stay on subject isn’t always the easiest thing.  Just like now:  mind is off somewhere else besides this blog.  Happens.

This scene was finally finished last night, and all three nights of writing came out about equidistant in terms of wordage every evening.  I don’t mind that, nor do I mind that I’m in a stretch where I’m only writing about seven hundred words a night these days.  You need to recharge now and then, and I’ve been running on low energy for sometime now.  The break was needed, and this is how I get it done.

Also, I’ve been more careful about how I’m writing these days, doing a bit more editing as I go along.  Couple this with the inability to get the words out quickly and you’re seeing seven hundred words written in two hours.  Not a great deal, but I’m almost one hundred and seventy-five thousand words into this work, so I get a little slack cutting, yeah?

With my kids alone down in the commons, how do you think this scene is gonna end?  How, indeed:


(All excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Two: B For Bewitching, copyright 2015 by Cassidy Frazee)

They kissed for nearly a minute, holding each other as they lay together on the sofa. The light in the ground floor coven had come down at twenty-two hours, leaving the fireplace as the source of most of the current illumination, and when Annie and Kerry finished their kiss they stared into the first for almost five minutes as they continued to hold each other.

Kerry touched Annie’s new earrings. “You make these look so good.”

Annie glanced down. “That’s because they’re beautiful.”

“That’s because you’re beautiful, Sweetie.”

“My love . . .” Annie blushed, not trying to keep her feelings bottled up when they were the only ones in the commons. In the last year Kerry had become extremely free with his complements, and though she was aware she wasn’t a plain girl, she’d never thought of herself as beautiful. And the way Kerry made his statements—she heard the sentiment in his voice and knew he wasn’t making here feel good—

He meant every word.

“You make me blush, you make me cry—” She kissed him before rolling around so her back was against Kerry. “You’re the only one who does that to me, my love.”

“Just as long as I never get you angry.”

“I don’t believe I could ever be angry with you.” She twisted around and smiled at him. “Frustrated once in a while, possible upset—but never angry.” A chuckle drifted from deep in her throat. “I’ll leave that honor for Lisa.”


Annie was always the Girl Who Didn’t Cry, and while all we’ve seen from her in the past is a single tear, she’d admitting that the tear came care of her soul mate.  Now we’re seeing that while she knows she’s pretty–not plain, I know, but she still thinks she’s pretty–she’s not beautiful.  It’s an interesting bit of modesty, because a lot of people would love to believe that a girl, like Annie, who comes from a bit of privilege and wealth, likes to imagine her shit doesn’t stink and she’s the beautiful creature under the sun.

And they both agree that Lisa is great for pissing people off, and they’ll leave that to her–and that she’ll likely leave Annie alone from now on.

What next, you say?  Well . . .


“And I don’t think she’ll be doing that any time soon.” He slid further down the sofa until he was laying flat with Annie next to him. “You know, with only a few of the instructors here—”

Annie knew where he was going with his line of reasoning. “Yes?”

Kerry gave her a huge, soft smile. “We don’t have to go to our rooms tonight.”

“I see.” She smiled back. “Do you think we can sleep down here?”

“I don’t see why not: it’s not like it’d be the first time.” He traced the edge of her nose. “And Professor Semplen probably won’t show until after we’re up, so . . .”

She began tapping a finger against his chest. “I was thinking—”

Now it was his turn to feint surprise. “Yes?”

“I was thinking the same as you.”

“I was thinking about this almost as soon as we came to the coven.”

“I thought about it after we arrived at school.”


I could say, “Hey, get a room, you kids,” but it seems like they’ll take the sofa.  And they’ve both been thinking about this?  Sounds like someone’s gonna be getting another talk from Nurse Coraline pretty quick–


They laughed together for a few seconds before Annie when for the pillows while Kerry retrieved the heavy comforters and reset the enchantment to lower the fire. A couple of minutes later the pillowed were in place, Kerry lay against the back of the sofa with his left arm draped over Annie as she pulled the comforter up nearly to their necks. He made sure he wasn’t holding Annie too tight. “You comfortable?”

“Yes, quite.” She adjusted her position slight. “I’ve got the comforter tucked slightly in the back, so I don’t expect to fall.”

“Good.” Kerry levitated his computer so it hovered overhead. He tapped the display a few times, then set it back down on the end table. “I set the alarm for six just in case.”

“Good idea.” She gave him a last kiss for the evening. “Good night, Kerry. I love you.”

He returned the kiss. “Leka nosht, Annie. Obicham te.”

Annie closed her eyes and felt Kerry’s breathing as he listened to his heart beat. She wanted to hear his body slow, be here as he drifted off to sleep. She’d not done this since they night they returned to Salem after their operation in Kansas City, and at the time she relished knowing he was comfortable enough with her next to him to fall asleep with her touching him—

In fifteen minutes time Kerry’s breathing deepened and slowed, telling her that he was unconscious. Annie allowed herself to do the same, though unlike the last time she’d listened to Kerry enter dreamland, this time she intended to join him . . .


There you have it, with Kerry heading off to dreamland, and Annie–that sneaky little girl–setting out to dreamwalk him again, or at least try.  First day home, and she can’t even bear to be without him for the night.  There’s an Overly Attached Witch Girlfriend meme in here somewhere.

Right now I’m at this point:

Which is where I should be, I guess.

Which is where I should be, I guess.

And there are two scenes remaining.  Not long ones–I’m guessing maybe a thousand words each–but this next one coming up?  Hold on tight–

Things are about to get a bit nutty.

Salem Bay One Dreamin’

Well, now, it seems I’ve moved on from the last scene and into the next.  This chapter is moving by now, with almost eight hundred words down in the story bank, and only two scenes left before I move on to the final scene of Chapter Thirteen.

I should mention that I didn’t just write last night–I looked up something.  Something I can see using the Google Earth function.  Wanna see?   Sure you do–

What is all this stuff I'm looking at, Cassie?

What is all this stuff I’m looking at, Cassie?

About the middle of the picture, where the peak on the right and the one in the center meet with the slope on the left–that’s where Annie lives.  We can’t see her home and the lake and her lake house, because we are but mere Normal people, but it’s all there, trust me.  I see it, and now when Annie says she’s a mountain girl, you know what she means.

Right now she isn’t in the mountains.  No, she’s hanging out about thirty meters above sea level, and, conversely, she’s waking up in the middle of the night.  Yes, she spent the night in the hospital; yes, she’s in Bay #1; yes, she’s sleeping in the bed next to Kerry’s, because he’s far too busted up for her to share his bed.  And it gets her to thinking . . .


(All excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Two: B For Bewitching, copyright 2015 by Cassidy Frazee)

A smile grew as Annie thought back to earlier in the evening. Holoč and Vicky returned not long after Kerry woke to see how he felt and to congratulate him on his win. Erywin and Helena arrived just before the Madness began to do the same, and Wednesday, Isis, and Jessica popped in while the Madness was underway to offer well wishes.

Penny and Jairo arrived with Alex and Kahoku, and they sat with them for about an hour, with the girls sitting on the empty bed and the boys taking over the chairs. While they were having their Mini Madness Nadine and Malaya from the Mórrígan team arrived to check on Emma, and on their way back to the Dining Hall stopped and offered their congratulations to Penny, Alex, and Kerry for sweeping the podium. Neither girl bore the Cernunnos team any ill will: as Nadine said it was a well-fought match, and were it not for an unavoidable incident at the end, the result wouldn’t have been that much different.

This activity went on until about twenty-three hours, when Coraline stopped by to give Emma a final examination, then checked in on Kerry before getting him comfortable for the evening and adjusting his pain management before wishing them both a good night and leaving them in the darkened first floor ward.


It was a good time, even if Kerry was all busted up.  A huge difference from the year before when it was just Annie and no one else to mourn over his broken body.  Which leaves us late at night, with Annie laying under her covers and watching her Ginger Hair Boy.

Annie's not looking out scared; but try finding a picture of a girl lying in bed that isn't a bit . . . porny.

Annie’s not looking out from them scared, but try finding a picture on the Internet of a girl laying in bed that isn’t a bit . . . porny.

It’s all so peaceful, which means . . . something’s going to happen, right?



Kerry’s breath hitched as his head moved slightly as if he were looking for something.

Is he dreaming again? She nearly shook her head as she considered the irony. The incident the year before that had her rushing to Kerry’s aid was a nightmare brought on by his earlier escape from an Abomination. That moment, however, was the precursor to Kerry not only remembering Annie as “The Chestnut Girl” from their shared dreams, but it let them to relive part of one of their more memorable and tender dreams, and it allowed Kerry to finally open up and express his feeling for Annie.

He fell in love with me a second time— She shifted slightly as she watched him. I was upset later that he hadn’t remembered me from our dreams, but Deanna was right: how often does a girl have the same person fall in love with her twice?

She was about to roll over on to her back and go back to sleep when Kerry mumbled in a low, slurred voice. “Why do you keep bothering me? Why don’t you go away?”


Hey, don’t bother Kerry, you . . . dream, you.  And that last part there, that’s where I ended, because it was getting on towards ten-thirty and I didn’t want to keep writing into the night.  Plus, it’s recommended that you always ended a scene on a cliffhanger, because it lets the writer jump back into what’s happening that much quicker.

Which means I’ll get back into this pretty quick tonight, right?

Night Ward Dreams: Love of Past and Present

Here we are, the last almost nine hundred words of the final scene of the penultimate chapter of the longest day of the school.  Really:  the first scene of Chapter Nineteen, was finished on 8/02/2014, and this was finished last night, 10/07/2014.  Two months to get through one day.  Not bad when I’ve written 46,777 words for Part Seven, this part, so far.  As I’ve said before, it’s about twenty thousand words a month, give or take a thousand here and there.  Now I can think about Chapter Twenty-four and bringing the final section of the penultimate part of Act Two to an end.

Yule is looking so much closer now, both in the book and in real life.

Yule is looking so much closer now, both in the book and in real life.

Annie remembered a dream she’d shared with Kerry, one that he seemed to remember as well.  Annie was seeing things that had happened a few years in the past, and Kerry–well, it’s hard to say what he’s seeing.  But he seemed to know what’s going on based upon their conversation . . .


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

There wasn’t a need to prompt Kerry: he immediately knew who was asking the question, and where it was being asked. Still staring up into Annie’s face, his eyes unfocused as he answered in much-younger boy’s voice. “Um, reading.”

“Uh, huh.” Annie felt a childish amusement come over her, just as it had that moment five summer ago. She imagined herself as she was that day, standing in her pajamas—she hadn’t learned how to create different clothes around her in a dream yet—her hands behind her as she swayed back and forth with a slight grin on her face. “What are you reading?”

A sheepish tone crept into Kerry’s voice. “Science fiction?”

“Science fiction.” She chuckled. “I don’t know much about that.” She nodded towards Kerry as if she were nodding towards the book in his hands all that time ago. “What is it called?”

A Fall of Moondust—” He paused a couple of seconds. “By Arthur C. Clarke.”

“Sounds interesting.” Annie twisted around and sat cross-legged on the bed, facing Kerry. His hand remained in hers. “What’s it about?”

“About a boat on the moon that sinks.”

“Really? Can they do that?”

“Well . . .” Kerry tried to shrugged but winced instead. “I don’t know. It’s an old book. But it’s good; I like it.”


I’ve said that one of the first two adult novels I read was A Fall of Moondust, and I was a little more than seven at the time, so Kerry’s got me beat in the reading department.  I love that novel, even though we know–as Kerry hinted–that the scenario laid out in the novel couldn’t possibly exist, it was a great, fantastic book when it came to opening up one’s imagination.

Now Annie is a cheeky girl, and probably more so back when she was approaching her seventh birthday.  She’s even more cheeky now, and she’s not only got her boyfriend calmed down, but she’s reliving a special moment with him, one that she remembers clearly.


“I see.” Annie scooted a few centimeters forward. “Would you like to read to me?”

“You want me to read to you?” Kerry looked surprised, just as he had the first time.

“Yes. I’d love that.” She remembered that was the first time she’d used that word with Kerry.

He didn’t seem to know what to say next, then a smile slowly grew across his face. “You’re the Chestnut Girl; I remember you from other times.”

“Uh, huh.” She nodded. “And your my Ginger Hair Boy.” She giggled. “Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” His smile softened as his eyes shifted to the left. “You can sit on the log there and I’ll read.”

“I have a better idea.” In their dream she’d done everything from his left side, but that was broken and immobilize. She’d have to work with his right side, and she wondered if it would cause a problem with his memory of this event and bring on another bout of déjà vu.

Annie slid off the bed, then pulled the covers back and slid back on. She nestled herself between Kerry’s torso and his right arm, nestling her head in the crook of his shoulder. She figured that the dislocation and the broken rib on his right side was completely healed by now: when he didn’t wince or twitch she knew she was correct. She reached for the covers and pulled them back into place, covering them both. “There.” She sighed and snuggled closer. “Much better.”

Kerry didn’t move, didn’t complain, didn’t even ask what she was doing. His question was one that a six year old boy who was asked to read to a girl would ask. “How am I suppose to read to you? I don’t think I can hold the book.”

Just as he asked the first time. Annie looked up from her place next to him so she could see his face. “I’ll tell you what: I’ll hold the book and turn the pages when you say so. That way all you have to do is read.” She rubbed her head against him. “Okay.”

“That sounds okay . . .” His voice took on a sleepy tone, as if he was finally winding down from the sorrow that had gripped him moments before. “I can . . .”


Lay there in a hospital gown with your girlfriend snuggled against you?  Cheeky girl.  But she’s also calmed him down and put him back in the mood to sleep, so . . . she did here job.  She was a friendly face that talked him down.  It’s also the first indication that Kerry does know Annie is his Chestnut Girl–he seems to know a lot more now.

It also looks as if Annie’s in for the long haul in Bed #2 . . .


Annie saw Kerry’s eyes flutter, and in that moment she wasn’t an almost seven year old girl sitting in the crook of the arm of a six year old boy with whom she was sharing a dream—she was back in Bay #1, cuddled up next to her soul mate. “Kerry?”

“I’m tired, Annie.” He turned his head enough that he could see her lying snuggled next to him. “I feel so tired.”

“Then you need to sleep.” She laid her hand part-way across his chest and circled it over his heart. “I won’t go anyway. You’ll be safe.”

“Okay.” He rubbed his check against the top of her head. “Good night, Annie—”

She was about to tell him the same when Kerry finished his thought:

“I love you.”


And there you have it:  he finally says the magic words.  It could be argued that he may not know what he’s saying, but someone else could argue that he’s pulling those words from his subconscious, and it’s something he’s wanted to say for a while–and with the filters off, he’s saying them.

It doesn’t matter to Annie:  she heard them.  And she reacts the way you might expect her to act.


Annie gasped in a near-silent voice. “Good night, Kerry. I love you.”

He chuckled as he fought to keep his eyes open. “You’d say it in Bulgarian.”

She chuckled as well. He would know that.  “Yes, I would . . .” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Leka nosht, Kerry. I az te obicham.”

“Um, hum.” His eyes closed and his breathing slowed as she sunk back into sleep.

Annie made herself comfortable against Kerry’s torso. She only now realized that his right arm was draped over her torso, making sure she was secure against him. “That’s it, my love.” She stopped rubbing his chest and left her hand there. “Sleep and dream. And remember it so you can tell me in the morning.”

Sleep began to take her as she wished her soul mate into dreamland. “Dream of your tree in California.” Her eyelids fluttered. “Dream of reading to your Chestnut Girl.”

Her eyes closed as she sunk into the same sleep that was claiming Kerry. There was only one thought left that needed saying before she joined him in unconscious bliss . . .

“Dream of us.”


They are off to a different dream land this time, and as the next scene is Waking with Coraline, one could guess that, well, they’re going to wake up with Coraline.  What is that going to look like.

I’ll write it tonight and show you tomorrow.

Sweet dreams.

Harboring Sleep Within the Test

The last couple of days my energy has really been at a low ebb.  Now only has work taken its toll of late, but I’ve not been sleeping well–again.  There can be any number of reasons for being tired–though I think a large part is due to my hormone replacement therapy–but the sleep thing?  Damn, that’s been with me forever.

Now, something interesting came up in a conversation yesterday.  Never mind the umpteenth requests I received to get some sleep–I know I’m tired, you don’t need to tell me I need sleep–but this comment that caught my attention:  “Your novel is keeping you awake.  It’s on your mind all the time, and it won’t let you rest.”

Now there’s a secret that isn’t unknown.  I do get caught up in what I’m writing.  I get caught up in the characters.  Sometimes it driver me a little crazy, but I consider that par for the course.  But keeping me awake?  Well, now, that’s something that hasn’t happened before too many times.

Maybe there is some truth here.  I know I slept well last night, so maybe I’ll finish up this enormous scene tonight before Cosmos comes on.  In the meantime–Kerry asked Annie a question, which was, “Don’t you think we did a lot of goofy crap yesterday, and now . . .”  And now here’s the end of that question . . .


(Excerpt from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)

After her chat this morning, Annie had more insight into why she was sent off with the others without waiting for Kerry. Not that I can tell him— “I can agree with everything you said, but why do you think today is a test?”

“I just do.” He tapped his fingers on the table for a few seconds. “What time did she tell you she was called in?”

“She didn’t say—just that she’d been called in for a meeting.”

“But you both talked early, and she already had the debit cards. They could have been sent over, but even so, The Foundation would have made those last night. Which mean they knew this was going to happen.” He glanced out the window, something Annie noticed he did quite often. “There was a card for each of us—our names were on them. Someone went through all this trouble last night so we’d get them this morning.”

“And you think Ms. Rutherford planed this?”

“Not her: this Foundation. Though she probably knew about this and the stuff yesterday.” Kerry finished his sandwich and slowly pushed his plate to the side.

If only I could tell him what I know. Annie had heard about these things from her mother a few days before leaving home, and found none of Kerry’s suspicions shocking. She was also fairly aware of why Ms Rutherford was telling her about what she thought the other students would do today . . . “If it is a test—” Annie rested her head against her right hand and twirled her hair. “—I’m glad I passed.”

Kerry looked downward as he grinned. “I don’t know if it’s one we were expected to pass, but I do think Ms. Rutherford is keeping an eye on us.”

Annie didn’t what to hear Kerry go on about different ways The Foundation could follow them—she knew nearly all of them—so she moved the conversation in another direction. “I’m only asking because I’m curious, but . . . would you have left the hotel if I hadn’t asked you out?”

“I . . .” Kerry chuckled, then pursed his lips as he pushed air through them. “I don’t know. Yesterday wasn’t that bad because I didn’t have to go that far, and we were suppose to be doing things for school.” His sigh was loud, even against the background noise. “I’m glad I didn’t stay in the hotel.”


It’s not the sort of test you’re expected to pass?  Oh, Kerry, you poor sap, you’re being tested right now.  Only by someone different and for different reasons . . .

Now I should think about the sort of damage one little girl can do with access to a library full of deadly arcane knowledge.

Not that I don’t already know.

"Yes, I could use my shadows to follow Kerry everywhere--technically the shadows are the ones stalking him . . ."

“Draught of Truthful Submission?  That’s much better than a love potion–“

Trauma Night Confessions

It’s fuzzy head time, brought about by getting up about two AM and not being able to do anything but drift in and out of something that felt like napping, but wasn’t.  There was a bit of pain in my legs and some churning in my tummy, but mostly what I have is a lack of sleep brought on by too many things going on in my brain.

I know there were dreams, but all I remember of them was being in an open area where I had to rate people who looked suspiciously like the Mother of Dragons, only a lot more jail-baity like she is in the novels rather than the more grown woman in the television series.  Why was I rating people like it was a wet tee shirt contest?  I have no idea.  My dreams don’t often tell me what they have in mind; I just roll with the madness.

Perhaps it’s a combination of things.  I have things on my mind that are keeping me . . . not troubled, but worried.  I also finished Chapter Sixteen of my novel last night, and with it ending on a downbeat, that means Chapter Seventeen, the penultimate chapter, is going to start on a downbeat.  The last chapter promises to be better, but this new chapter is going to be somewhat depressing, as well as somewhat confessional.

You bring together the three main character of my story, add in a little something I picked up from Chapter Fifteen, and you have a bit of a mess–one that I created because, hey, it’s how I roll.  Conflict is easy if you remember to follow The Manga Rule, and set up the dynamic of one guy, two women.  Dance them all around a bit, and before you know it something’s going to break . . .

Probably someone’s neck.

So I picked up in a place where the lights are down and there are pools of darkness, and Erin isn’t feeling all that chipper because of something she did.  And that’s where she gets a visit from–lets call her one of the bosses, a top goddess that comes to hold her hand while they work out what’s going on.  It’s this character, the one who is stepping onto the stage for a bit of limelight, that really gave me the idea for this story, because this new character was the subject of an erotica story I wrote for the hell of it maybe ten years ago.  It ended up on a website for a short time, and may still be out there somewhere, because nothing on the Internet ever dies.

There will be talking; there will be sadness.  There won’t be blood, because I can’t see someone getting their brains bashed out with a bowling pin, and I’m not serving milkshakes.  But there will be a bit of hand wringing, because guilt tends to do that to people, even if they are eight thousand years old.

Another six thousand words, maybe more, maybe less.  That’s all that remains for Suggestive Amusements.  Good or bad, it’ll be over, and I’ll move on to the next project.

We’ll see where my muse takes me.

I just hope it isn’t to the place I’m writing about.


The Rest of the Unquiet

Part Sixteen is in the bag, so to speak.  I set out to finish that character of Diners at the Memory’s End last night, and I did.  Yes, just eight hundred and one words did the trick, and the chapter was almost nineteen hundred words, but if that’s all you need to get your point across, you use that, and nothing more.

Albert is back in class:  well, he’s sorta back in class.  Back sitting next to Meredith, back to listening to lectures . . . it’s all sorta back to normal.  So with that said, there are two more parts to write, two more sections in the tale, and in about four thousand or so words, Diners will come to an end.

What comes after that–I’m curious about that as well.  I don’t want to take a break from writing, but I don’t want to be in the middle of something when NaNo rolls around.  As much trepidation as I may have for the upcoming event, I will attempt it this year.  I want to believe that last year wasn’t a fluke, that I can actually do the deed as well this year as last.

So it was that I headed off to bed.  It was a dark and stormy night–no, really.  A thunderstorm brewed up last night, and it was all lightning and thunder the whole evening.  As I fell asleep, there were flashes outside the window, and a low rumble now and then.  I said good night to my Muse, then drifted off . . .

The thunder woke me up, right around 5 AM.  I lay there for a long time, because I didn’t want to crawl out of bed.  But things felt strange; it was as if the stuff around my feet just wasn’t there.

When I finally crawled out of bed, I discovered the sheets at the foot of the bed were all akimbo.  It looked like I’d run a race, because everything had been pulled about a third of the way up from the edge.  It reminded me of a scene from She Hulk, where Jennifer had a bad dream, and once she was awake, she discovered she’d shredded her pillows and comforter–which she could do with ease.

Me, not so much.  Which is probably good for me.

Now, I could say that my dreams were making me restless–but I have no idea what my dreams were last night.  That’s been happening of late; I fall asleep, then wake up in the morning.  What happens in between, I have no idea.  My dreams are becoming a mystery to me.  A few months back they were pretty vivid, but these days, I’m getting little, if anything.

I think this is one of the reasons I’m starting to sleep, but I’m getting very little rest.  The sleep is there, but I’m getting little REM action, and it would seem I’m moving about a lot.

If anything, I feel this means I’m not resting, I’m running as fast as I can while I should be doing nothing.  And what is the cause?  Could be anything.  I mean, while things are getting better, there’s still something going on in my mind that needs to be quieted.

Hey, maybe this is something I can write about!

Searching Through the Bones of the Past

Back tonight in the real home, and it’s so hard to write.  The problem with the eyes, and feeling so tired . . . I dozed off watching TV a couple of times tonight.  It’s the time change–and how long the day was today.

Tomorrow will be better.  Tomorrow is a trip to the doctor’s to have the eyes looked at, and maybe talk a little about my anxiety last week.  And I have to work tomorrow as well–from home.  Damn.  I could just spend the day writing.

That’s one of the reasons I’m doing today’s post last night, if that made any sense.  It’s 9:40 PM CST, because I know I’ll be so pressed for time in the morning that I won’t be able to get it in.  So, you write when you can, right?

The other reason I’m doing this now is because I know I’m far too brain dead to get into the story tonight.  I have a lot of things I have to keep straight in my head, and I’m not sure I could with my mind feeling the way it does.  So, a quick post here, so I can do my five hundred words and sleep the good sleep.

That doesn’t mean I didn’t do anything tonight.  I pulled up Transporting, because I wanted to get a little history to help me remember things.  There’s a bit of history in a few chapters of Transporting, and I know I’ll need that, because I can’t remember every date I created when it comes to stuff that won’t happen for over a hundred years.

The history lesion was great.  As I read through it I wasn’t editing, but I was.  There were a few things I changed here and there, but I’m leaving any big editing for later, much later.  I figure after NaNo I’ll start in on editing that monster; for now, it rests and waits.

When you’re reading something that you did a long time ago, you feel a certain pride, realizing how good it is.  The parts I read tonight I probably wrote about 1989, 1990, and then revised about 2002.  It’s not the original material, but it’s close enough, and my mind was on fire back then.  I loved how I worked that stuff out back then, and I need to do a little more reading for something else–maybe tomorrow between times when I will want to toss my work computer through a wall.

I’m thinking that I might need to make just a few notes about this history before I actually writing anything.  Nothing major, just notes.  I know when I wrote this part last time, I was winging shit like mad.  This time, I have a much better handle on what happens, and I will get it down right.

I do want Meredith’s history to be good, too.  I have a major part of her life locked in my head, it’s just a matter of doing a few dates and–bang!  I’m off.  Part Thirteen will be off and running.

There’s my five hundred.  That’s enough for tonight.

Hope all is good this morning for all my kind readers.

Asleep at the Keyboard

Last night was the first time in a very long time I fell asleep at the keyboard.  Really.

There have been some very long days of late.  Up early, busy–more or less-throughout the day, and then home to eat, chat, and write.  And by “chat”, I mean talk to people online; I almost never see anyone during the week for face-to-face conversation.

Yesterday was the first day in a long time I didn’t come straight home from work, but rather went out for dinner, then did a little shopping.  I wasn’t out of The Undisclosed Location for very long, but long enough that I saw something different.

Of course it was back to The Hole, and I did some chatting, and finally got around to writing while still chatting . . .

That was when I started falling asleep.

It was right in the middle of The Kings’ This Beat Goes On/Switch Into Glide (which, at one time, was the unofficial party song of Chicago) that my eyes began closing, and though I could hear the song on the computer, it was coming from somewhere far away.  I came out of it, but there was another moment right after that . . . and then another.  And finally I came to the realization that if I continued on, I would fall asleep right at the computer.

So without further ado, I bid goodnight to the person I was speaking with, shut everything the hell down, and headed off to slumbers.  At about 10:30.

Of course I was up at 2:30 . . .

I don’t sleep here, not very well.  It’s been like that from Day One at The Undisclosed Location; crawl into bed, usually beat to hell, fall asleep, expect to get up right around 2 AM, 3 AM, toss and turn, get up when you realize it’s useless to say in bed any longer.  I’ve had this sort of vicious cycling before, many years before, and before you know it, you either adjust, or suffer a psychotic episode.

I’ve had psychotic episodes.  Fun in the short term, but they can be a bummer in the long run.

Someone said the other day, “Right now, you have stress you’re not even aware of.”  They were talking about something that’s going on in my life, behind the scenes more or less, and while I might not be conscious of it, I’m starting to feel it there.  It’s like that voice that whispers at you when you’re trying to break a bad habit, always telling you, “You know you want to, so why not go for it?”  Yeah, kid, go away.  You’re bothering me.

Even with all that, I managed to write.  I only put down 250 words before the crash out, but I got it down.  I’ve got Albert and Meredith playing a game, fighting a creature that I pulled out of my butt pretty much as I was writing the passage.  If I can stay awake tonight, I’ll probably knock out another thousand or so words, because I have a feeling this passage will fit in well with my wordiness.

Hey, if that’s the way you roll when you’re awake, go with it.