I've just written those two words that all us writers love and hate with equal ferocity -- The End. Bound by Revenge, book #2 in the Moon Bound Series, is now officially drafted. First draft, at least. Edits to follow very shortly. But I've run into one of those situations that often plague us as writers. When Characters Attack.
So it was supposed to end one way, and due to a problematic deity and a kidnapping vampire, both of whom refused to listen to reason, it's gone in quite a different direction, leading me to replace book #3 with book #7, and moving Original Book Three to that #7 slot.
I find that I don't mind as much as I thought, because that means New Book Seven will have a much more dramatic effect. The only thing that annoys me being when my imaginary friends have better ideas than I do. It's quite irksome.
So...to recap. BBR is now a complete draft.
My deity is very wily and creative.
My characters lack manners.
They are smarter than me.
What's up with all the damn spiders? They KNOW when I'm sitting here alone! They have special spider squad meetings about my house! I just looked up and there's one directly over my damn head! Argh...so I wrote a poem about him.
Spider, spider, on the ceiling.
Don't you know how I am feeling?
You scared the life right out of me.
I'm NOT Miss Muffet can't you see?
Please do not dangle down.
Please don't perch upon my crown.
Just stay up there, but move a bit.
So you're not above where I do sit.
If you ignore my issued plea.
And decide to sit upon my knee.
I will have no choice but to leave the room.
To fetch a shoe, or the vacuum.
And then you'll be sucked up or dead.
I won't have to worry about my head.
So, if I were you I'd listen closely.
As I beg you, so morosely.
Stay the hell away from me.
And we'll both be happy, don't you agree?
So, today my partner asked me to design him some new business cards. Being only too glad of a distraction (I am the ultimate procrastinator sometimes!), I immediately said I would.
Cue a world of rue and regret. The actual design took mere moments, and once I had a new card all ready to be printed, I had to set up the printer.
I had conveniently forgotten where the printer had been relegated to - the cobweb-decorated corner of my bedroom, groaning under the weight of some of the clothes I will deny owning when it comes time to pick something to wear.
After dumping those ceremoniously to the floor, hiding several cushions from my bed and articles I will have to root for later, I fished out the lonely little deskjet, dusted him (it's definitely a him, for reasons which WILL become clear later) off and then had the mother of all scavenger hunts for the usb connection. Eventually I found it, wrapped up and shoved into a cupboard I use for storing DVDs I don't have time to watch any more.
After setting it all up, I realized the ink was depleted. Curse you, cartridge. So, I scared up some ink and injected it. This was starting to take longer than I had originally thought, and while I was after some form of distraction for a while, you CAN have too much of a good thing.
Now, sporting a large black inkblot on my boob and with the sour taste of it in my mouth after inadvertently sucking some from my thumb, I set to work.
The printer would not print. Vexing! I spent about an hour figging about with it, trying to clean the heads, printing blank test page after blank test page, pulling my hair and screeching like a banshee in frustration when all I got was a big, fat, nothing. Enlisting the help of my author group, I was advised to re-install all the drivers, since the printer downright refused to run any such head-cleaning acts. How rude. Three times, I downloaded and re-installed those cursed drivers and each time the printer told me there was something wrong with my toolbox (I've never had complaints in that department before!) and directed me to a webpage where I was tossed out on my ass as if a drunkard in a hotel. Restricted Access, it told me. I didn't realize my printer was connected to the damn Pentagon!
Finally, resorting to madness, I removed the cartridge once more, wrapped my lips around it and blew until ink started to drip from the underneath. There. I'd given my cartridge a bj and cleaned its head all in one fell swoop. Or one act of fellatio, so to speak.
Now, of course, the business cards are just sitting in the corner, no doubt oozing with good intentions, but will most likely have gathered a coating of dust before they're used.
And here I am, STILL procrastinating, writing a blog when I should be writing a book! Oh, my word. Will I never learn?
Aaargh it's SPIDERGATE here! There I was, sitting on my nice new swivel-chair, writing...as I do. And then from across the room I see him. A huge mofo of a spider, looking like he was heading out for a pleasure stroll. He was so casual, he was the Sean Connery of arachnids.
If he'd had the shoes he could have done the Highland Jig across the floor and he wouldn't have freaked me out any more than his lumbering, long-legged gait.
I screeched, like a cat thrown into a lake, and grabbed my four year old daughter's shoe, fearing the spider would confiscate it and actually hit me back, I approached him shaking with trepidation. He paused and gave me a "fuck you lookin' at?" expression. I could count each beady little eye on his shiny, black head. They all reflected myself, my own two eyes like saucers, hair almost standing on end. I looked crazed. I WAS crazed.
Screaming like a banshee, I took swift aim and battered that spider bastard to death. Squealing once again when a leg detached and stuck to the shoe like a scene from a horror movie.
He looks so much better smooshed on the floor. It's going to take me some time to work up the courage to remove his sticky, slimy gooiness from my laminate. And like a car-crash, I can't stop LOOKING at him. My mind is playing tricks on me. He appears to be moving every so often, as if he's gonna jump up and say, "gotcha!" and then go for my jugular or something.
I need a drink dammit. Why don't I have any alcohol when I need it!?
Excuse me while I just crawl out of my damn skin for a moment. Ugh. Spiders have it in for me, I swear. I've been naming them recently. I had Norman. Then I had Bates. I think I'll call this one Cathy.
I've been burning the wick at both ends, I'm afraid. I have gotten a tonne of work done, three chapters in the past few days, and am ahead of myself in terms of finishing my first draft of Bound by Revenge. I have a schedule set whereby I want to be finished the first draft by Oct 13th. In the following two months I want to get all my edits and Beta Reading rounds done. I am only 6-7 chapters from the end. But I'm feeling the strain when I go to bed at night and can't sleep 'cos my characters just won't shut up their incessant nattering.
Roll on 7am every morning when I have to get up, and not be some sort of swamp monster because the children already fear me enough in the mornings (I've never been a morning person). This morning, in particular, was a nasty one. Imagine the biggest caffeine freak you know, with no coffee, less patience and a headache to boot! That doesn't even come close to me this morning.
My four year old has just started school, and she got in trouble for not replacing a toy (she's FOUR!) on her second day. Since then, she's been excluded from "golden time" which is a set period of time where they can "free-play". Instead, her name has been written into a rain cloud. A freaking rain cloud, people! In case she didn't feel bad enough, I suppose?!
So this morning, dragon-lady (yours truly) bearded the beast in her den (the teacher in the classroom) and went through her for a short-cut. I told her in no uncertain terms that there is a difference between discipline and punishment and she was just punishing the child and enjoying it. Not on. Soooo not on.
Needless to say I watched that battleaxe take my child's name from her rain cloud before I left. She might have deserved a little bit of a reprimand, and even exclusion from this period of free-play for a day. But it's been three days now and all the teacher is succeeding in doing is coaching jealousy and sewing the seeds of resentment.
I had a bar of chocolate on the way home. It cheered me up. But I'm supposed to be on a diet.
So to conclude, I hate early mornings, and chocolate. That's all folks. :D
I'm being hijacked by the muse again today. So far I've written nearly two entire chapters. That's normally the goal I set myself per week, but I guess the story is just flowing really well right now.
No doubt sooner or later I'll run into another challenge and be stuck touring the Writer's Block for a while.
I'm taking the inspiration while it's hot!