I keep finding songs for them,

And they are not in what you would call a healthy relationship.

Hopefully the fifth time's the charm for that scene.

And if not, then perhaps the twelfth.

Read if convenient.

Well that was a nice little Sherlock moment the book just had.
What did he do with them?  Did he eat them?
No.  I apparently just forgot them.

I'm sure it's nice and light and everything it's supposed to be.

Every time I see the pencil ad for the iPad Air, I seem to turn into Mr. Burns and say, "I think I'd be happier with the pencil."  Besides, if I just need to jot down a sentence or two, do I really need to start up an electronic device?  Do I really need to try to remember exactly what I want to type in when it actually starts?  And what if I wanted to draw something to go along with it because I described it but it wasn't quite right and I wasn't quite sure how to, but I know what it looks like in my head?  Can't I just grab that pencil or pen on the table and get it written down before I forget or have opened the file I want to put it in?  And what's going to happen to all of the scraps of paper and envelopes that I've been using for those little bursts of inspiration?
That's not to say that I'm against the iPad.  It's just that I find it a little impractical for that sort of thing, which is probably what I'd try to use it for, and besides, if I'm doing any serious typing, I'm heading for the keyboard.

Get that building a blanket.

If it was possible for a building to say, "Whaaaaaat?" I'd like to think that this is how it would look.
I also have have to say that I've never seen a building have such an emotional response, or any response for that matter, but I suppose if it were me, and some giant bespectacled frog wearing sandals could be wandering around, I'd be shocked too.
(And now I really want to know how "Get it out!  Get it out!  Get it out!" would be represented.)

Save the...braaaaaaains.

I wonder if in the beginning there weren't more people like "Zombies are people too" girl who would protest about programs and people infringing on the rights of the undead, and that they aren't around anymore because they were eaten by the same undead who's rights were fighting to protect.

Dear Book Three,

Stop being creepy.
But thank you for letting me know about that character.
Can I go back to One now?

Dearest Book Three,

While I appreciate the fact that you've finally decided to talk, 7:15 on a Saturday morning is not what I would consider to be an appropriate time to start.  Ah well.  What were you saying?

So it begins.

And I've already rewritten some things.  A lot of things.
And I've realized that the story actually starts five minutes earlier than it does.
And I've had to tell myself that the beginning was always rough, and had been completely rewritten.
This is going to be fun.

I took the weekend off.

It was harder than I thought it would be.
The read through/edit starts tomorrow.
My fingers are itching to type.
And the delete key looks lonely.
And it's November.
But no, I decided to take the weekend off, so I have.
This is my brain on words.
Don't do words.
Or do them.

Chop Chop.

The dead wood has been cut.
I clearly didn't need those 221,440 words.
Now it's time to read, and see if there's anything there.
And cut some more.
(Frankly, losing another 100,000 or so words wouldn't hurt.)

Most people would be happy not to be attacked.

Not him.
He finds it insulting.

Oh no!

I know that I wasn't supposed to laugh during The Walking Dead.
I know that I was supposed to be scared or shocked when the walkers started falling through the ceiling.
But when that one fell and exploded, I laughed.
It looked like one of those Capri Sun people had tripped.
Or Kool-Aid Man.
And I might or might not have said, "No!  Kool-Aid Man!"
Seriously, the walker that got hung up by his intestines barely bled and this one exploded.
So if we don't see much blood the rest of the season, we'll know why.
They used up the Blood Budget in episode one.
Everything else is ketchup.
And those packets can be hard to open.

It's fine.

Because that's how you really want to describe the Emmy Award winning show.
(Even if it's the truth.)

Another file finished,

Another 40,000 or so words sent into the ether.

It's inevitable.

I know I'm going to have to go back through some of this stuff,
But right now it's more important to cut the dead wood away.
(And see if there's something there after I've finished.)

Yes, I've been gone.

Because you don't turn down invitations from the Wittelsbachs and Hapsburgs.

And lo, the stupid thing was done.

And they all regretted it.
(Except the one who never really admitted that he was responsible.)

Thank you Box One, you were a real treat.

Now it's time to crack Box Two open and get to work.
Clickety-clack, and away I go.

I know that I've been neglectful.

But I've been doing things.
I've been typing.
And living out of boxes.
And typing.
And opening those boxes.
And typing.
And moving things around.
And did I mention typing?
And typing some more.
But on the plus side, I'm now 1/4 of the way through the Great Type In.

Everybody Kermit flail!

And so, boys and girls, we've finally reached the end.  Again.
It took six months and thirteen pens, but we did it.
Now we just have to type all the changes in, and probably make more.
Then we'll see where we stand.
Hopefully on some sort of ground.
(And hopefully it won't take another six months.)

I won't say that I told you so.

But that's what you get for going through that door.
(Though, I suppose you could argue that it's actually good that you did.)
(But I'm not going to.)
(So, so there!)

All right, guys.

We're fifty pages from the end.
I think it's time for things to start going...wait.
Did you just walk through that door?
Never mind.
Good luck.
We'll try this again in a little while.
If you're still around.

I'm going to be late.

I'm surrounded by a parade.

(Yes, that was my excuse for not leaving earlier.)
(And yes, it was the truth.)

So this is what we have left to do.

And will these last 100 pages be enough?
Yes.
Yes they will.
They have to be.

Lucky Thirteen.

Because twelve pens were simply not enough.

Clickety-Clack

Less than 200 pages separate me from all of the typing I'm going to have to do.
This fact makes me very, very happy.

Oh, Margaret...

There's a Christmas song in there somewhere.

Eleven has shuffled off to Pen Heaven and it's time for Twelve to take the lead.
For now.

(Looking at how many pages I still have to go through, I might not even have to buy another pack of pens, but it's going to be close.)

Hitting the homestretch.

The last marker has been passed.
Only a quarter remains.
The end is finally in sight.

Then the typing will begin.

Part of me is worried that when this is all over, it's still going to be too long.

And another part tells me to shut up and keep going.
We haven't finished yet.
We don't know what it's going to look like.
And we won't until we reach the end.
So keep going.

You have now reached Milestone Four.

Two-thirds finished.
One-third left to go.

Ten, you were perfect,

But this one goes to Eleven.

That boy.

He's just....

I just want to smack him for saying that.

No, not smack.

Punch.  

Definitely punch.
Hard.

(Apparently, I'd forgotten about those things he'd said and done.)

Tell me again how I'm supposed to feel about you in Book Two.

Because I'm certainly not feeling it in Book One.

This has been a big day for you.

You might have just gotten a last name.
And a song.
Good for you.

Maybe that's why you're not healing.

Using strops for bandages can't be very sanitary.

Of course it's not better.

It just happened a couple of days ago,
And you're not Wolverine.

(You're also wearing a different coat now, so stop looking at the old one.  It's not there.)

You didn't last as long.

I hope that's not a bad sign.
Better luck, Ten.

Wait...

When did the unconscious, gravely injured one suddenly become capable of administering his own medical care?

Don't worry, kids, it's just ketchup.

The poison, however...

This is where it starts to get tricky.

If I take out that group of people,
Then I have to take out the strings that would have connected them to the larger story,
Which means certain characters will no longer know certain things,
And someone has to be a lot less secretive.
Which is why I now have to make some changes to 603 before continuing with 618.
Continuity, gotta love it.

And we're there.

Halfway done, and things aren't looking too good for our heroes.
(The story's coming along well, though.)

Sorry, Eight, you were so close to reaching the middle,

But that honor goes to Nine.

Sometimes I forget why I hate one character and love another.

Then they have a conversation like that, and I remember.
(And kind of love the one that I hate.)
(Because when it comes right down to it, I don't really hate him after all.)
(He just does stupid, stupid things.)
(A lot.)

Seven down,

Who knows how many more to go.

(But if the past is any indication, and Eight takes me to the halfway point as I believe it will, there are seven more to go.  Of course, I could be wrong, but it would just figure that I'd need seven more when the little darlings are sold in packs of three.)

I'm not, but he certainly is.

I wanted to like it, really, I did.

So The Walking Dead season finale happened, and if you haven't seen it and intend to, well, I'd stop reading if you don't want things spoiled.  If however, you don't care, continue on, my friend, continue on.

As I said, the season finale happened, and I really wanted to like it.  I wanted to like it a lot.  I liked it, but I can't say that I loved it.  I thought it started relatively strong and they did a good job of ratcheting up the tension.  Andrea was in trouble, Milton was in trouble, the group, well, of course the group was in trouble, and the Governor had cemented his position as Eternal Mayor of Crazy Town.  All that remained was the showdown.  And it didn't happen.  It was like we were heading for the Walker Fireworks Factory, and we got there only to find out that they made circus peanuts instead.  Somewhere along the way the tension laid down, abruptly died, and that was that.  Sure, bad things happened.  To Andrea.  To Milton.  To Carl.  To Rick.  To a lot of people.  But did anything really happen?  Has anything really happened?  They're still at the prison.  The Governor is still out there.  Woodbury is still there as far as I know, even if it is empty, though I think they probably should have burned it to the ground rather than leave it as a nice base for old Phillip to use for regrouping.  The walkers are still out there.  And the group is still, at its core, the group.  Sure, there are a bunch of new people at the prison to meet next season, but who's to say they won't be anything more than the background characters they were in Woodbury?

I think part of the problem was some of the cuts between storylines.  If you get right down to it, there were two main ones and one or two that bounced in and out more for character development than anything else.  The two were what I'll call the prison and the shed.  They lost the prison tension by going back to Andrea and Milton in the shed right in the middle of the supposed showdown when they shouldn't have.  Sure there was danger in the shed, but it was still a ways off, so whatever tension that had been building up in the prison was lost, meaning that when they did return to it, it became a scene featuring the Governor and his pals taking a walk in the dark.  Sure, it was a dark filled with danger and chomping teeth, but it was still just the dark.  They could have let things go longer, had bigger chunks of prison and shed, and still made it feel like the two were happening at the same time while keeping the tension of both because both had it, but they were different kinds.  The prison was a rolling, building, what's behind that door tension, and the shed had a much slower, simmering, quieter tension, which when compared to the prison didn't necessarily feel like tension, meaning the two were not interchangeable.

Then there was Andrea.  I freely admit that I've haven't been a big fan of her ever since she went all Commando with Shane, but Andrea, Andrea, Andrea.  You don't stop trying to free yourself to talk or stare in horror.  You know what's going to happen to Milton when he dies, and you know what he's going to do when he wakes up.  You don't have time to look like a baby deer lost in the woods.  Pick up the darn pliers and get to work.  The moment all of those pauses began to kick in, I knew she was a goner and the tension of survival was lost because she might as well have been holding a big sign that said Bite Me.

Thinking even more about it, I guess my problems with the episode started at the beginning, when the character who hadn't been in actual danger, though he had been in a threatened, unspoken danger, was suddenly in real danger.  Now, I'm sure they wanted us to think it was Andrea and then be shocked when it wasn't, but I found it all a little more jarring than shocking.  After all, the show seems like to show the capture as much as the torture and this time they skipped that first step and Milton was just there with no explanation.  He hadn't been there before and now he was.  I'm not sure where they could have put the capture, but I think they needed it.  Maybe it could have happened at the end of the previous episode, though that would have destroyed that episode's emotional sock to the gut, so perhaps they could have done a quick cut back to town right before the very end and gotten away with it.  Whatever they could have done, they didn't, though I don't think it really affected the tension since it was right at the beginning, and I think that the lack of tension was really what bothered me the most about this episode.  I don't know.  I've watched it twice now, just to make sure I wasn't missing anything, and the same issues kept jumping out.  Well, that the three thing at the end, but I figured out where I'd gone wrong with that, so it doesn't count even if it does come off as a little clunky.  Anyway, I'll keep watching the show because I will, and because I've got until October to forget about this.

It's a twofer kind of day.

The sixth has gone to Pen Heaven,
And we're 1/3 of the way through The Grand Edit.
(Which means there are only two more to go.)

This marks the end of Box One.

To continue, please open Box Two.

(Don't mind if I do.)

And I'm not sure if that boy didn't just cross it.

There is a fine line between charming and creepy.

Huh.

I'm not sure what lags are, but he's swinging them.

Five dead red pens.

Am I writing a book or a Christmas song?
(The jury's still out.)

Apple, blueberry, or pumpkin?

Happy Pi Day!

Here's a clue:

No one will know what the characters look like if you remove The Parade of Introductions at the beginning and don't describe them when they appear later.

Oops.

Finished.

Getting closer.

I am now one quarter of the way through The Great Edit.
And there's red, So much red...

A mere slip of the forked tongue.

I've been calling her Morde.
Her name is Maude.
(Is it wrong that I sort of prefer Morde?)

Congratulations, Four.

You made it a lot farther than Three.
Five, you're up.

Wait...what?

There comes a time when you have to just shake your head and cross it out because you're not sure how it got there, but you know that it doesn't make any sense.

Cooperation and Compromise.

You keep using those words.  I do not think they mean what you think they mean.



(And I'm looking at all of you, so don't go jumping to any conclusions.)

Which I guess means that the bag was telling the truth.

My biodegradable Easter grass biodegraded.

Fare thee well, Three.

It's Four's turn now.

And it's done.

Pictures to follow.

They might want to, though.

They're so worried about how those lost years might have affected him that they haven't considered how those same years might have affected his brother.

His name might just be Nicholas.

The picture needed a bunny.
He will be small.
He will be in the background.
It's possible that most people will miss him.
Just like the cat.
But he is needed.
Because I think he'll balance things out.
Then this picture will finally be done.
I think.
I hope.
I really, really hope it will be.
I've been working on it since July.
It was supposed to be done for Christmas.
It is now February.
It needs to be done.
I need it to be done.

I hope you remembered the syrup.

Happy French Toast Day, survivors of the great blizzard.

(Well what else are you going to use the bread, milk, and eggs for?)

Do it because you're...from Earth.

If you haven't checked out The Thrilling Adventure Hour podcast yet, I highly recommend it.
(and then you'll get the title of this post.)

Pen Two is down.

Three, you're up.

Moving, moving, moving.

Moving pieces around.

(And that ends my Elan moment.)

Neat.

If you aren't checking out the Astronomy Picture of the Day, you should be.

Sooner of later, someone's going to ask.

Are you editing or rewriting?

(I told you the beginning was rough.)

How many more will follow?

The first pen has been sacrificed to the editing process.

St. Nicholas, we meet at last.

Which means I can almost say that I'm nearly done with this thing.

That was one Omega Glory of a speech.

I think someone was watching Star Trek when they wrote it.

(But what I really want to know is: who are the Yangs and who are the Kohms in all of this?)

Red.

So much red.

(Gotta love editing.)

And it's only 130 pages longer than I thought it would be.

It took about a year and a half, but Book Two is done.
And now it's time to finally pull Book One out of its box and start tearing it apart.
Good thing I've already bought the pens.
I just might need them.
A lot.

(But I've got to say, it feels weird to be done, though there are plenty of other stories left to tell.)

Welcome to The Medical Planet.

We'll take such good care of you you'll think you've died and gone to Heaven.

So it's going to one of those, is it?

Where every time you start painting it, the thought "I've made a terrible mistake" will run through your mind.
At least once.
Usually more.

So very close.

I've just finished the first part of the third part of the part right before the end.
Now it's on to the second.

Merry New Year!

Happy Christmas!
Joyful Whatever You Want To Celebrate!

Oh, the humanity!

And so, a defenseless teacup was sacrificed to paranoia.

I'll be sad to see him go.

I'm going to miss that character, but it's time, and it has to be done.
(But don't worry, folks, he'll be fine, just fine.  Yeah.  Fine.  Did I say he'd be fine?)










(Maybe.)
(But then again, maybe not.)