Hello, headache. You’ve been chasing me all day. Lucky for you I’m going to bed soon.

More minor revisions and reworking of concepts. Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.

I bought a copy of The Valdemar Companion for my story-writing efforts as I’m not sure I want to wade through all the books (for the however-manyth time) to find one little detail when someone has already done it for me. At the very least it should tell me WHERE to look if I need elaboration.

I’m not going to whine about worldbuilding. I’m not going to whine about worldbuilding. I’m not going to whine about worldbuilding. But I’m hating myself right now for having left so many concepts nebulous when I should have had them down on a page somewhere before I even started the monster.

The litany anew:

I love my family, but it’s time to go home.

I miss my family, but it’s time to go home.

Every time I do this I feel like I’m betraying them a little. I keep telling myself that maybe someday I’ll earn a living doing this writing gig thing and be able to visit them all the time.

Anyway. Enough moody.

Zipped up tonight’s version of the book and gmailed it to my bad self. Almost done with revisions, and yes, we’ve heard this before, but this time I really think I am. Sticking points of the story are no longer sticking. I just want this thing done so I can kick it out the door and tell it to come back when it’s made a living, ya lazy bum.

And I was walking down the street one day

Being pushed and shoved by people trying to beat the clock,

oh, no I just don’t know

I don’t know

Minor tweaks done. I have a laundry list of fixes. Some are continuity (the Red Walls temple layout changes from chapter to chapter — bad Steph), some are name changes, and some are story threads. The more I knit, the more I feel like my story is a big ball of yarn that I’m working to untangle.

Long conversation tonight with my cousin about the whole idea of just writing (“At least an hour a day, every day. I don’t care what’s going on. If you want it, you’ll find the time to do it.”) and the state of my life the last year.

Man, I really wanted this thing done by the end of this month, but I wrote too much story. I at least simplified one of the things that was sticking in my side. YAY FOR THAT.

Master and Commander was really good, and now I want to read the Patrick O’Brian books (and hope they’re not dry as hardtack) or revisit the Binder world. My stepdad’s a Navyman and a naval history buff, so he knows all the cool info about this stuff. I smell potential.

Baby, baby why can’t you sit still?

Who killed that bird out on your window sill?

Updates, minor tweaks, and I am now going to go back to the printed copy to revise.

So…close….

Another late night that should not be. I need to go to bed early tomorrow, or I fear the motherly repercussions. G’night.

you give me yours

I’ll give you mine

you used to look my god

right in the eye

Pshaw. Should not be up, but….

Anyway. Updated! Deus ex machina is being defeated! Yay! It was never one anyway, but I was holding the cards too close to my chest….

And saw cool friends today. Hi, cool friends!

Mmm. Sleep.

waiting for you to call me up

and tell me I’m not alone

cuz I want somebody to shove

Yep, back to this sucker. You could infer from the amount of work that’s been done to 22 and 23 that something something significant happens in those two chapters, and you might be right. The itchy feeling is going away when I touch this part of the story.

I have done more hand-written note-taking in the last three days than I have all year. My cursive still sucks.

Watched a show on Ye Olde History Channel about motte-and-bailey structures in Dark Ages England. Bored my poor mother to tears.

Also, bought cool gifts for family members. San Clemente has changed since I saw it last, but not too much (Fatburger and the Rib Trader, thank the saints, are still there).

Will see the good folks at S.E.O. tomorrow and cruise the intergalactic battleship that is their headquarters. Will, no doubt, write more tomorrow. Zzzzz.

My intentions are good and earnest and true

But under my hood is internal combustion

Satan is my motor

Hear my motor purr

I made it through 22 and 23 yesterday before passing out on the plane. I deplaned in Phoenix, sat around for thirty minutes, and then was informed that my connecting flight had been canceled and no further flights were going out that night. But not after I wrote one song, retitled the book, and came up with a way to do away with my deus ex machina problem.

Productivity in the Harbor of the Sky…we’ll see, though, if it still looks productive in the saner light of a full night’s rest.

On the bright side, Southwest Did the Right Thang by giving me a room voucher (something Continental Did Not Do five years ago, and hence the reason I no longer fly them). I also got to witness firsthand a high speed pursuit with my friend Michael (Who-is-not-Mikey). I counted fourteen police cars. Michael, being a good driver, stopped when he heard the sirens. Otherwise, we’d have been creamed by some dumbass going 90 down 44th Street. As it is, I was not killed, and so instead of being an intensely bad experience it was an awesome/scary one instead. Such is life!

The only bad thing about my comfy room was a total lack of shampoo and conditioner. My hair looked like a rats nest by Thursday afternoon, reminding me of why it is I usually pack this stuff (and why my main character is a bathing freak).

I have had more than enough adventure in the last 24 hours to satisfy the rest of my year. I blame Arizona. Thanks, Arizona!