Dear Protagonist About Whom I Can Say Nothing Coherent Just Now,

You idiot.

That is all,

Me

Dear Secondary Character Who's Shaping Up Nicely,

Cool: trying to strike a bargain by offering to recite your poetry.

Not-so-cool: Falling silent and expecting me to write the poem in question.

I'm not a poet. If you are, the least you could do is help me out here.

Me

------
Dear Me,

You don't flinch from slitting throats or destroying the world, but you flinch from writing poetry?

Seriously.

Me

-----
Dear Primary Character Who's Finally Getting Her Act Together,

I knew you had some fire in you.

Okay, I didn't mean that literally. But still, I'm not complaining.

Me

Dear Character Who I'm Trying to Keep from Turning Into an Unambigous Villain, Not That You're Making It Easy,

The less time we spend in your point of view, the more I like you.

You might want to think about that sometime.

But not on stage.

Me

=-=-=-=-=

Dear Muse,

What's with the multi-story fascination with slitting throats, or threatening to?

Seriously. There's nothing in my deep dark past for you to draw upon here, so where are you getting this from?

Just wondering,

Me

Dear Tertiary Character Whom I've Always Been Quietly Fond Of,

You don't deserve this. I almost wish I hadn't thought of it.

But I did. And it works.

I'm sorry. I guess I love the story more than you.

Me

Dear Character I Won't Name In Order to Avoid Spoilers,

I can't do this. How can you ask me to do this?

How can you ask her to do this?

No, no. If you can be strong enough, and she can be strong enough, I can be strong enough.

I'm only the writer. It's easy for me.

Right? Right.

Maybe,

Me

Dear Second Draft of the Novel,

Wow, you just finally met up with the first draft of the story again. How wonderful.

And it only took you 40,000 words.

No, of course that isn't sarcasm. Why do you ask?

Just don't get too smug. It's not like I'll be keeping all of your words, either.

Me

Dear Story,

I'm not sure handing out potions of magical language translation is actually any better than handing out superpowers.

Just saying,

Me

=-=-=-=-=

Dear Protagonist,

Alternately, you could kiss him again.

Also just saying,

Me

=-=-=-=-=

Dear Story,

No, no, I don't want you to take them back.

Me

Dear Character We're Never Going to Meet On Stage: It's not even your fault. That's the worst part, isn't it?

Dear Protagonist Whom of Course I Trust and Respect: Do you really think it's a good idea to get a thousand-year-old sorcerer hyped on sugar and caffeine?

Dear Story: Will you please stop handing out superpowers? It's not like they're free, you know.

=-=-=-=-=

The book is being very--non-linear--about getting written this week. Much back and forth, much of each new thing that happens (and each stray realization, too) altering the things both before and after it.

There's a story in there somewhere. Halfway through the second draft, you'd think I'd be more confident about finding it. :-)

One day, I'll actually meet up with the text of the first draft again, I just know it.

Dear Secondary Character I'm Really Quite Fond Of,

Awwww, it isn't your fault. Really.

She won't think less of you for it, I promise.

Sympathetically,

Me

=-=-=-=-=-=

One of the questions the current book is going to force me to answer by the end is: how real are the bonds formed by shared danger, once the danger is past? Interesting, that.

SCIRQFO, of course, has a vested interest in the answer. :-)

Dear Twice-Mentioned Character Who Never Appears on Stage and Isn't Really a Character at All,

No. No no no no no.

Absolutely not.

That is all.

Me

( Dear Tertiary Character Whose Role in the Story I Long Ago Accepted )

Went for another walk this morning, and visited the delightful little library in my Mom's small town that I'd somehow never visited before. She moved after I was in college, and they're only open three days a week. Something about spending time inside any library that always makes me just a little bit happier. And they had a nice children's section, too.

Since I've recently finished writing one book and am still digging into/returning to the other, I find myself in a sort of transition place between books--and thus am seeing the winter New York landscape through both the eyes of my old protagonist (L) and new protagonist (H). This leads to some interesting conversations.

( Three-way conversation )

Stumbled upon Life After People on the History Channel (unlike me, my relations have cable) last night, an account of what would happen to the world if all the people disappeared. Much like The World Without Us, only less detail--but interesting stuff nonetheless. And the look at the 20-years abandoned zone near Chernobyl was pretty fascinating. They predict it would take a thousand years to get to the point where our cities have turned to giant tree-covered hill with no signs of said buildings. (I've sped this process up a bit for Bones of Faerie. :-) Even while keeping the largest roadways clear.)

Thought I had while watching this, though: is part of the appeal of post-apocalyptic fiction (and non-fiction) that on some level we fear the world won't make it, and want reassurance that even if the worst happens, something will survive? Something to ponder, that.

Is it just me, or is there something a little wrong about naming something Hiawatha Trails Golf Course?

Two apartment complexes, right across from each other: Colonial Woods and Regency Park.

I asked my nephew for an update on his plans for world domination. They seem to involve dinosaurs. Possibly problematic, given the extinction issue, but not a bad first attempt. I'm sure he'll improve upon it in the years to come.

Lots of bare winter trees here, thin-sounding winter birds, pale blue winter sky.

( Character nattering ahead )

So apparently the Jólasveinar, or Yule Lads, have been visiting the Museum of Sorcery and Witchcraft this week. :-)

And the second round of Bones of Faerie revisions went off today. (Goes for a four mile walk to work off the remaining nervous energy, then crashes.)

- Number of pages with no changes whatsoever (not a comma, not a word): 15 out of 170
- Number of semi-colons allowed to remain in the manuscript: 7

( Just a few more snippets )

But the first half has most of the new stuff, and so is the slowest.

( Tweeting my characters, sort of. Because lucy_anne asked me to )

Right. The revised and revised Bones of Faerie manuscript is printed out. Today is for forcing myself to read the whole thing through, edit it one more time, or die trying.

It's funny how even as the edits get smaller, the editing process gets more intense. I no longer quite have brain enough left to write my characters full-fledged letters, so I've been writing them one-liners instead. Maybe it's time to start IMing them. Or -- do you think anyone will still have Twitter, after the end of the world? :-)

( Snippets )

Dear Character Who's Never Given Me Any Trouble Before,

Why the sudden silence?

(Pause)

Yeah, okay, I guess if I'd lost my family, my world, and just about everyone I'd ever cared about in a terrible war I'd nearly died fighting in, I'd be pretty reluctant to talk about it, too.

(Pause)

So would it help if I said please?

Hopefully,

Me

Dear the One Character in This Book Who Has Absolutely Nothing Wrong With Her and Needs No Revision Whatsoever,

I love you. Love you.

That is all.

Me

Dear Primary Character Who Really is Shaping Up Nicely,

Do you think can you find something else to do for a while? Maybe go for a run? You like to run, don't you? We established that back in chapter one.

No, no, it's not you! It's just--there's something I have to do. I'll be back soon as I can, I promise.

Apologetically,

Me

P.S. If you could keep an eye on the others, I'd really appreciate it. I'm sure they won't be any trouble.

( Dear Other Primary Character Who I Haven't Talked to In Some Time )