I’d this in mind yesterday. Honestly, I don’t know if this will make it into the final novel or not: this takes place about eight hours after Anton and Maya make their pact. In case I kill everyone first, I wanted to share. It’s silly, but, then, so am I. I’d no idea that Cat was so pervy! After all, ‘Cursed Hearts’ is supposed to be horror/romance!
Month: April 2017
Here I go to the time and trouble to kill Anton, only to realize at lunch what a conundrum that makes: sure, Maya now knows the entire plan to try to save Chris & Cat, but that still leaves her at UCSD, miles from Miramar Air Station and at the mercy of their passive and active defenses – to say nothing of the ‘boss battle’ in the hanger. It’d be 5k words, minimum, to get through that.
Soooo… Anton doesn’t die. Maya (and her riders) tempts him, instead. Fits the theme of the story better, really. Anton accepts, calling for his bodyguard/driver, Manuel. He promises to get her through Security. I’m not sure if he’s scared for his own pampered, aristocratic life, or if he’s sincere. We’ll see.
Personally, if a demoness was resting her teeth on my neck, after killing my soldiers, and having leeched about 10% of my life out, so long as it wasn’t about my wife & kids, I’d talk a deal, too. Buy time. The horse might learn to sing.
I’m not in the ballpark when it comes to wrapping up CH, but I’m circling, looking for a parking spot. The three pages of handwritten notes I jotted down whilst drunk Sunday night guide me. The first half of part I is below the fold; the second half just now finished. Part II (as my wife gives me the ‘all-clear’ for tomorrow night when it comes to shuttling our daughters about) will see the death of a main character (finally!) and part III is a tiny, funny, romantic interlude before I try to swing the wreaking ball. We shall see.
I’m going to need a backhoe and a jackhammer to edit this thing.
Writer’s Fear… and cheese
Being Spring, I was cleaning up things in the backyard. Gave ‘The Dog with the Golden Nose’ a haircut. Finally made some coffee, added bourbon, and got Maya to cross paths with Debbie & her Rottweiler, Daisy.
Ran away to make dinner for family. After that, was itchy enough to take bi-weekly oatmeal bath. No! I’m not avoiding…
Grabbed notepad and pen (I’m a lazy writer, not a stupid one) and jotted down Maya’s break-in to Chris & Cat’s place. Then: blank.
Got more red-piss (the cheap wine I drink; told my wife to cut me back once ‘CH’ is finished) and a hunk of cheese for dessert. Saw more: Maya’s discovery of Cat’s condition, her escape – after killing Anton (and thus knowing his plan) – as Maya races towards the guarded hangar at Miramar Air Station.
Five months ago, I saw everyone dead in a subterranean parking garage. Perhaps that was in error. I don’t yet know: does the fight start in the hangar, and C&C retreat?
“Ask again later.”
PS Yesterday was also a local author fair at the county public library. Meh. Not much, but I’d brought bourbon, so there was that.
I’ve never had writer’s block. Nope, not even once. I sit down, usually at a computer, but still, occasionally with pen and paper, and write.
What I do have, is Writer’s Fear. If several days go by without said ‘sitting down,’ I am afraid that once I do, nothing will happen, that I’ll just sit there. So what do I do? Everything else: clean house, walk the dogs, run for food and booze, get drunk early and watch anime… anything to keep me from facing my fear.
I’d put off writing for five days this week. I’d a great weekend of several thousand words, even into Monday and Tuesday, I’d figured out Maya’s time-lapse, inadvertently introduced Emma Miller… and did everything I could to not touch Nichole (the laptop I do 99% of my writing on) until this (Saturday) afternoon. Finally, fearfully, with only one partial scene in mind, I began. That was four and a half hours ago; 3k works ago. Chris, Cat, and Anton are in a small armored column on their way to Miramar Air Station, and Maya finally killed someone in San Diego. It was so easy! I’m over 60k words, and not even to the Big End… which just makes the Fear worse.
Will I be able to do this tomorrow? My family’s coming back from vacation, so I should wash our bedding. The weather’s getting better, and I need to paint the trim of the entire front of the house. After Mass tomorrow morning, I should stay for Adoration for at least an hour…. I should… I should…
Fear. It’s a horrible, corrosive disease.
“I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.”