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.)