Damn you, holidays. How dare you get in the way of THE WORK. You really are a jerk. Hey, I rhymed! That was totally unintentional.

Despite the massive speed bump of the break, I do have something to report. Just before I saturated myself with cookies and presents, I did hit a milestone. 400 pages! 100,000 words! That was my original estimate, quantity-wise, and I'm kind of psyched that I made it there. If I had to guess, I'm thinking that I've got another 10,000 to 15,000 to go, and I'll stamp this puppy as “kind of finished”!. Kind of, because of the whole editing thing, which of course will be lickity-split, because of COURSE I'm SO GOOD that the manuscript in it's raw form is PERFECT. (Bluster bluster bluster...ego ego ego.)

Okay...maaaaaybe there will still be some work to be done. I've divided the book into three acts, or “books”. The first and third, I think are pretty strong. It's that pesky middle one that's going to need the most work. I am really happy how the third act is concluding...I think things are getting wrapped up alright. Although, I'm sure that when I go back through I'll realize that I forgot something HUGE, like neglecting to mention something really important, like how, in the distant dystopian future, nobody bothers to wear pants. EVER.

Was that a red herring? A ruse? Or, in fact, is it critical plot exposition??? You'll never know. I mean, you will...that is...when I finish this thing and get it the eff out of the factory and into the hands of the consuming public.

I'm pretty happy. February was and is my original delivery time, and I think I'm still going to make it, as long as something horrible doesn't happen. Even if it slips, I can still say that I've done a decent job committing to the progress. Yay, me. (Back slapping sound.)

The funny thing about these posts is that I'm not sure that anybody actually reads them. I haven't really done much to promote myself yet, because I don't like saying things like “Hey, guys! I'm Derek! I'm writing a book! Oh...no...it's not done yet...but if you'll wait a few months I'll have it all ready!” I just figure that people might forget about it, and not come back to paint my greedy hands with their hard-earned greenbacks. (There. You've make me spill my ultimate intentions.) But, if anybody really is seeing this...well...then thanks. :)

The era of “pre-first-book” is a special kind of purgatory. There's nothing to point to, other than the idea of a product. Everything is just preamble and intent...there's nothing concrete, other than a web page and a bio. Sigh. I've wanted this for so long. The last few yards are truly the longest.

But, when it's all written and done, I'll be a world-famous, lambo-driving, surrending-to-excess SOB, and I'll be loving it. Or, the book will suck, and I'll live the rest of my life inside my literal closet.

Or, perhaps somewhere in between. Tally ho!

Back to work.

  Twenty more pages written, but more importantly, I think I'm finished with the rough form of acts one and two of the story, tied together with a fancy word bow...

...for I am NOTHING if not...fancy.

That just leaves the third act to be completed. Aaaaaand, it shouldn't be nearly as long as the first. I have a clear idea where I want things to go, and what major stuff has to get done or explained along the way. Spirits are up, happiness reigns...the only thing that would make this better would be a piping hot, brand new apple pie in my lap.

Or, maybe a luke-warm apple pie in my lap. Y'know, with my tender loins and all. (I set out with this post trying to see if I could include the words “tender loins” somewhere. I just won...against...myself....)

I'm having a ball, but even so, I just want to get this thing done! I feel like I've been waiting for this...who knows...most of my life maybe, either consciously or unconsciously. It's almost...almost, mind you...secondary to me if the story is any good or not. Just having something out there with my name on it...the prospect makes me all tingly. Yup. Like warm apple pie on my loins. Callback!

I hope everybody's doing well. Life got really crappy at the end of last week, with the Paris attacks. Can't stop thinking about what's been going on over there. I'm a pretty easy-going, peaceful sort of person, so “assholes with guns” is something that I just can't compute. I have a daughter. She's young, but I despair thinking that this is the world I have to acquaint her with. Let's just hope there's some scientific “peace breakthrough” or something within the next ten or fifteen years. In the meantime, let's try to keep the guns away from the assholes.

Be good to each other, okay?

Back to work.