So far, 2156 words. While my goal for today is 3k, I don’t think I’ll make it. I just received an email from Fortitude. I know have the proof for Castle Walls! YAY! One final read through and I’m DONE

3454 words today! YEEEEE-HAWWW! One and a half chapters! Gearing up for the final two scenes, maybe two or three chapters. This book's gonna be done by Monday, guaranteed!

1k word goal met. Whew! Jenna's just discovered that the man she thought was the assassin who kidnapped Margaurethe . . . Well, I don't want to say. You'll figure it out. Hey, at least nobody else has died yet!

Found Valmont's song (see above entry.) Very cool and very Valmont, man.

More shit to sift through here. Got through two lateral files yesterday and have two more file drawers in the desk to go through. It's scary, though. There's a mountain of unfiled paperwork from the shop on top of the desk. I've got to slog through it, too. sigh

We're looking at a studio apartment, most likely. Which means the Dwarf in the spare room is also going to have to find someplace else to live. Hate to do it to him, but he needs a mother more than a roommate, I'm telling ya. He lost his job over a month ago and it's been pulling teeth to get his ass out and look for work or take care of the unemployment income. Sheesh.

Since my hearing loss began, my wife and I have drifted apart. Small wonder, really. It's kind of difficult to discuss the day's events or the way you feel when you have to bellow at the person you're conversing with. My wife and I are very private people (which tells you that most the stuff you see here doesn't mean a whole hel of a lot to me. The truly important things are kept quiet.) It's been odd as we feel our way back to each other now that I have hearing aids. She's still not trusting herself to speak to me sometimes, her automatic response being to keep quiet about her fears and angers.

Yesterday was a trying afternoon. I'm pretty tenacious (lucky her!) and kept poking my nose into her emotions until we shared many things between each other. It was emotional. It was time. It was well worth the tears and the laughter. We're getting closer.

We're going to be okay. Never doubt it.

It's all her fault, of course. She's the silly woman who invited me to dinner. I showed her! I never left. LOL!

.

from the latest Diary of Dreams CD, Panik Manifesto!

Sin Skinner

Your secret world is far away,
you don`t listen to what I say.
Give me permission to enter.
I`d like to understand,
let me hold your hand.

Let me be your sin skinner…

My liberty in isolation,
my fingertips in consolation.
A sad condition, my intuition.
Let me be your friend,
I`m here to heal the sand.

Keep my integrity intact,
I want to base my life on facts.
Whatever comes, I never know,
but life will ultimately show.

Still very silent
I even hear your breath.
What have I come for?
I know I wanted more…
Have you not understood?
It is your life they took,
And all you do is cry,
Don`t tell the world good-bye!

I love this song!

...and have written my 1k words for the first time in six days. Yeesh. I swear I'm going to finish this thing this month! There's just been so much happening around here, I've had to spend what little off time from work doing other things.

We're moving. Yes, again. No way can we keep this place up. The Wizard in the basement has been told when we're out of here and that he's out of here and on his own once again at that time. The Dwarf in the spare room has been told the same. He, of course, finally came through with unemployment checks and potential income for the next several months, so his place in our household is guaranteed. For now. We're looking for a small two bedroom apartment that we can cover on our own should the Dwarf's income fall through.

We're saving money like mad women. Our goal of full timing in an RV is set for 3 to 5 years. (Though if my wife could con me into doing it next spring, we'd be gone!) Hence, my time has been spent going through the pack rat's stuff (pack rat being the wife) and ruthlessly sorting out all the crap we've accumulated over the last fourteen years. That'll be that much less we have to worry about pruning when we get the trailer or motorhome.

The Wizard in the basement has expressed an interest (despite being evicted) in buying the shop. Here's hoping he can come up with the down payment. He's tapping friends and family all over the place to get it. I'd really like to see him do so, not just because it'll put some money in savings, but because he does a fantastic job at it. The shop has flourished under his management. He enjoys the work. And he knows very well that we're right on the edge of taking off. Most businesses spend the first two or three years in the red, a couple of years in the black, and then they begin really profiting. We've wobbled between red and black for the two years we've been open. It's almost there if it can be held open long enough.

Work's a bear. My manager goes on vacation for two weeks next week. My best shift leader (the one who covers my nights off) is on vacation at the same time for a furkin' MONTH to Bosnia! The other supervisor transferred out of the department two weeks ago and no one's been hired to replace her. And another shift leader has been gone for most of this month on vacation to Cuba and I have no idea when he'll be back. All that means is that I'll be working seven days a week because none of the guys can run the show without a supervisor or shift leader. And the morning shift leader will be doing the same for the same reason. ARGH!

On the up side, that means more hours, more money, more savings.

But it's gonna be a bitch, man.

When I’m finished with Angels Deserve to Die, I’m taking a rest from the Sanguire. I’m going to print out On Azrael’s Wings and do a full rewrite and edit. Once it’s up to snuff, I’ll submit it somewhere or other, probably by November.

I’ve been reading Hanta Yo by Ruth Beebe Hill. DAAA-uuuuum! I love it! It’s not an easy read, by any means, but it’s so educational! I’m already seeing how I can rewrite Tiopa Ki Lakota to make it more . . . Lakota . . . and I’m getting some potential for a sequel. The culture is really explained in this book, man. Love it!

And, finally, a bit from Mark Morford’s column in the SF Gate:

Who, in short, will be the hero to conquer all this bogus heroism?


The answer is easy. The answer is right there, in front of you, in you. Don your intellectual armor, grab your divine sword, get ready to go deep, lose a dogmatic limb, gain astounding insights, win the accolades of the universe, endure the sneers of the uptight and the deluded and the asexual and the flag waving and the ultraconservative and the Ashcroftian and the terminally pissed off.


Because the hero you most need? It's you. Simple, really.

.

First off, the doctor's verdict: No cancer. WOO HOO! On the right, we have a benign cyst and on the left we have several pinpoints of calcification. They're pretty sure it's not the cancer causing kind but, just to be sure, I'll go back in six months to see if there are any changes.

Second, no writing done in forever. I’ve officially dropped out of the Forward Motion July / August Dare for word count. There’s just no way I can make it up enough to pass. Ah, well. My novel will still be finished this month, of that I’m certain. I’m only two weeks behind my projected schedule, anyway.

Third, spent the morning rereading half of Angels Deserve to Die. I’m going to finish reading the second half this afternoon. It ain’t too bad, actually. Why is it that when I get some distance, I think the writing stinks? Then I go back for a read and become somewhat amazed at how well it worked? Silly woman, that’s me.

Hopefully, by rereading it, I'll get back on track to finish it! Trying to regain the momentum from beginning to where I'm at now. Since I'm having trouble figuring out what scene is to come next, this tactic should be like a roadmap – turn left here and . . . ? Oh yeah! I need to take another left THERE!

And fourth, it's all Nonny's fault. Still.

.

...to stay awake. Just tried to write this post with that other program, xJournal. No dice. It works beautifully, gives me tons more control than this program, iJournal, but it wouldn't read the music from Audion 3! What good is that? Part of having a music category is to show off what you're listening to, ain't it? shakes head Them folks at xJournal need to get on the stick, dude.

No writing. Read a kewl story written by a friend of mine. Car chases, conspiracies, and kidnappings. It should be a really good book if she finds a publisher!

Here's a snippet cuz I'm tired and uninspired and it's something to do to keep me awake for another five or ten minutes.

Jenna has received the news that her valet, Andri, actually saw her crazy looking spy, Reynhard, going into the library the night of the murder. (And no, I’m not going to tell you who died, yet.) Following an intense scene where she gets the information directly from her valet’s mind and sends her advisors away . . .

Jenna sighed, and glanced at the clock on the mantle. Margaurethe had been gone for forty-five minutes. Her frown, which was becoming a permanent expression, deepened. What was taking so long?


A spark of alarm flared and her heartbeat picked up. Reynhard was older than Margaurethe; not by much, but he had greater strength. Would he . . .?


Not liking this train of thought, she cast out with her mind, searching for the familiar sensation of her lover.


There was nothing there.


“He wouldn’t!” Jenna bolted from her chair and out the door. The hallway was empty, nothing appearing amiss. Margaurethe had not even had time to put a guard on Jenna. A wave of wariness flooded her, wondering if Margaurethe had ordered a guard to remain with Jenna at all times. That would have been her first priority.


Forcing herself to calm down, Jenna expanded her awareness to the other rooms on this floor. Nothing. Upstairs were the servants’ quarters, and below were the main rooms of the house. Margaurethe had been seeing to their evening meal; she would have made her way to the kitchen. Jenna went downstairs.


Several lights were on in the foyer. It was rare for the main areas of the house to be shut down for any length of time as the security detail worked twenty-four hours. The basement was their domain, set up with a barracks of sorts and a common room filled with books and electronic gear to keep them entertained. Jenna kept her focus, mentally sniffing the immediate area for hidden Sanguire. Had the mysterious symboulos sent a Human as he had the last time, she would never feel his presence before an attack. Sanguire could only sense others of their kind.


A glance into the audience chamber showed an empty room. She scanned it closely, just to be sure. Nothing. Jenna stared at the closed library door, bile rising in her throat. An initial probe indicated no one inside. Steeling herself, she threw the door open.


The library had been cleaned up quite well since *****’s murder. She did not smell any hint of the blood that had spilled so copiously about the room. The desk, chair, and carpet were new, and no one was there.


Jenna slumped in relief against the jamb. The idea of seeing Margaurethe, throat torn out and green eyes rheumy with death was terrifying. She swallowed and forced herself to continue the search. Just because Margaurethe was not here, did not mean things were well.


There were voices in the kitchen. Jenna eased toward the door, listening intently. Two or three people talked about the day’s events. She heard various noises indicating they were fixing meals.


Pushing the door open, Jenna stared at three of her security guards. One with unruly blond hair was buttering a piece of toast. She only saw the backside of another as he dug through the refrigerator for something to eat. The third saw her and he froze, a sandwich halfway to his mouth.


Dropping the food, he jumped to his feet. “Your Majesty!”


This galvanized the others as they hastened to follow his lead.


Jenna suddenly realized why Margaurethe always sent servants to deal with the mundane tasks; not so much because the Sanguire Vasilissa was above such things, but because her appearance automatically interrupted whatever anyone was doing.


“I’m looking for Kyria Margaurethe. She was supposed to be down here.”


The three looked at each other, mystified. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” the first said. “We’ve been here for about half an hour and haven’t seen her.”


Could one of them be Reynhard? Would he hire anyone else to assist him? Jenna’s fear stabbed through her as she seized the man’s mind. Despite an irrational desire to shred him, she kept her control, not wanting a repeat of what happened with Father Castillo.*


The others were aware of what happened to their fellow as he stiffened and paled, his face becoming slack. They swallowed, but stood their ground, feeling her mind knife uncomfortably through them.


Jenna’s cursory inspection showed that none of these were the renegade spy. Nor did they have anything to do with him. She released them, regretful as the first guard slumped back into his chair, unable to hold himself up. Forcing herself past the ever-present guilt, she scanned the estate again, still finding no indication of Margaurethe’s presence.


“I can’t find her. She’s either unconscious or she’s not here,” she said. “I want an immediate and full physical search of the estate. And someone call Valmont and the Padre back here.”


“Yes, Your Majesty!”


After they left, toting their recuperating companion with them, Jenna stepped further into the kitchen and sat down. She planted her elbows on the table, and put her face in her shaky hands, fighting the fear beating in her chest.


God help Reynhard if anything happened to Margaurethe.

• Father Castillo got a little too close when she was furious. He had a seizure from the mental attack and spent two full days in a dark room in bed recuperating.

Would have posted yesterday but my modem was giving me fits. Today I'm going to reconnect it to the other phone jack and, hopefully, that'll take care of things.

Yesterday's count was 1075 and today's is 1055. Things are progressing much faster now that the funeral's over. I'm reaching the final heat. All hel is going to break loose very soon. A kidnapping, Valmont's recent activities revealed, an assassin to hunt, and Jenna realizing that Elisibet is much closer in her heart than she wants. Should be quite entertaining. I'm thinking I've got a minimum of 5 chapters…possibly up to 8 left to go. (Working on 20 right now.)

The assassin is speaking with his employer after he killed someone at Jenna’s home who discovered him.

“I hired you to do a job. Now do it!”


“Aye, you hired me to do a job. And I will. But in my own time.”


“If you don’t kill her before she can be returned to the Symbouhera, you’ll have failed. Not only will you not get the remainder of your fee, but I’ll see to it that you’l follow her into the grave.”


His expression became cold and he leaned forward. “You threaten me?”


“You’re a rabid dog I’ve sent to attack another. If you fail, you’re useless to me, and a danger to everyone else. I’ll put you down. Count on it.”


He remained silent, eyes closed and teeth gritted. Finally, he said, “Your job will be done, and you’ll pay me what you owe.” He paused, opening his eyes. “But you’d better consider ‘putting me down’ anyway, gov. Because I’ll be looking for you next.”


Disconnecting the line, he tossed the phone onto the table. “Cheeky bastard.”


He nursed his drink, ordering another when it got low.


The longer he investigated Davis, the more inclined he was to believe what was said about her. She was Mahar’s Prophecy embodied; the Tyrannos’ soul lived and breathed within hers. What else could account for her successful attack of the priest? He bested her by four hundred years! There was no way a normal youngling would have the strength of will to do as she had done.


It was too bad, really. He actually liked the girl. If left to her own devices, chances were good she would make a tremendous and positive impact on their people. He remembered what it was like living in Elisibet’s time – the backbiting, the squabbling over her attentions, and the fear of attracting her jaundiced interest. Given what he had observed so far, he doubted those evil times would be repeated.


Unless his employer preferred to step into the Tyrannos’ slippers, of course, which seemed a highly likely prospect.

I would have more but tonight is QUEENSRYCHE!

At 7:30 pm, I'm going to be rocking to the 'Ryche. Well, rocking to Fates Warning or Dream Theater, actually. Whichever one opens for them. (The newspaper has been advertising Fates Warning, but the billboard outside the Schnitzer says Dream Theater. I have no clue.)

Worked on Angels Deserve to Die this morning for a grand. This afternoon, after my audiologist appointment, I pumped out another 500 plus on Orphan Maker. Man, I’m glad to be back on my regular work schedule! I’ve gotten more done today than I have in the last three!