Where DO You Get Your Ideas

Don't you just love that question?


Right now, my Main Bastard has really found his groove. He's fiercely loyal to the Minor Bastard. He's charismatic in his way, a good friend.


He's also sadistic, murderous and terrifying. He moves through a world of pleasure, victims and opportunity. Pity anyone or anything the Main Bastard catches weak and alone.


Killing isn't enough for the Main Bastard. For some reason, he loves to play with his victims. He reenacts his triumphs with the dead bodies until the game bores him.


It's only a matter of time before he begins his search again.


Why?


It's his nature. Taking prey, he feels alive.


The Tiny Dynamo finds my work violent and dark. She often wonders where those terrible ideas come from.


Somehow, I don't think she'd believe me if I told her:

His fluffy, pretend victims aren't enough. He brought another bird in the house last night.... Gotta love him, though!

MwaHaHaHa Haaaaaa

The moment is at hand. And thanks to a certain gentle advantage of global time zones, the moment comes at 11am Saturday morning, so there's no keeping me up past my bedtime!

Harry is here.

I'm offline for the weekend, just in case some goofball inadvertently spoils it for me.

Meantime, I'm putting the internet up here on this high shelf. Nobody break it while I'm gone.

Butler will be watching...

Tell It, Pablo

I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair


DON'T GO FAR OFF, NOT EVEN FOR A DAY
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Pablo Neruda

(Steve here)

Man, could this guy write! My own current work is shaping up okay. No word counters this time, but I've got the players on the board and they're each starting to give me a sense of what they want. Two or three of them are just an absolute blast to write, constantly surprising me.

Of course, there are two characters who act like they want one thing, but I'm pretty sure they're lying...

Butler continues to help.

So Quiet

I've been quiet of late, I know. There are a few relatively juicy blog essays banging around in my head, but no time to write them.

Y'see, I'm writing again. Working title is This Rusted Cage (TRC), and it's shaping up to be a fair bit of fun. At least, I can't wait to see what happens. But it's autumn in the book, and autumn here on the ground, so I'm really trying to boogie while the impressions are all nice and fresh.

I dashed off maybe three or four thousand words on that earlier idea (the guy in handcuffs), but it wasn't there yet. I like his story, but this one needs telling first. Oddly, this story is one I made a couple of false starts on before starting (and finishing) the previous novel.

That one's still marinating. Another month or two, I'll print and edit.

In the meantime, I've put up the bones of a site for my writing. There's even an excerpt here. Of course, I'll have to do this all over when the publishers insist on a name change and I end up writing as Winter Fallon or some such.

On the home front, Midge has gone from staying outside to sleeping in the same room with Butler. On top of the bookshelves where he can't reach her, of course, but it's progress. They've also eaten at the same time, which is rather social for the Duchess Midge.

When the laptop's not handy (supermarkets, lines, waiting rooms, etc.), I've been working longhand in a notebook. Later, I transcribe those scenes in. Butler has also been most helpful in this regard.

The Foundling

Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to introduce an unplanned but much-loved new arrival...

Mister Butler Dynamo.

(He's smaller than my hand!)

Midge, the established doyen and Mistress of All She Surveys, is less than enthused.

One hopes she'll get over it.