Just some notes on mystery white boy, the Valley novella. Trying to wrap up the ending.

Martin goes to the diner after Gabriel knocks Joel's teeth out, and Gabriel and Davíd show up. The question- why, and why together? What gets them talking, what brings this to its conclusion? How does this help Martin change?

They go because that's where they go, it's the Valley and there's not many other options. And maybe they want to see Martin, sure. Actually- scratch that, the plural there. They go for different reasons, because they have different circumstances. Davíd goes because he wants to see Martin, because things with Monica didn't go as planned and he needs some dude-time. Gabriel goes because he wants to ask Martin if his ideas were stupid all along, if that's why Martin never took them seriously. They show up at the same time because the show just ended, and they're both driving at roughly the same speed from the same point of origin to the same destination.

And they get talking because Gabriel starts talking. He doesn't need to be drawn out, not really, he just has to decide to start.

So the real question is- in what way does Martin change?

At the beginning of the book, he's shallow and aloof and trying his best to act like he's a character in some story. At the end of the book, he's explaining how he's not the things he might have become. How does he not end up shallow and aloof?

It's not going to be anything dramatic. This is a story that must end with an anti-climax, because it's not his story. Gabriel's story is dramatic and sweeping, but since Martin is the narrator, its affect on him has to be more subtle. So what happens to Martin, specifically, after this night?

He starts playing music, instead of not playing music. But there's hardly any mention of him as a musician earlier in the book, so that needs to be fixed. How does he feel about the fact that everyone else is a musician and he's not playing music? Is he jealous? Why doesn't he play? And when he does, why does he go the solo route? Why doesn't he start a band?

The answer is that he's saving himself, though for what no one can tell. He didn't play because he was scared of being another asshole playing music, and he lacked the confidence to actually start (so much of Martin's problems are due to a lack of confidence). He plays at being aloof because it means he can't be rejected.

Gabriel was aloof because it meant people might listen to him. He was trying to be a symbol, and the less he was involved in petty human drama, the more symbolic a figure he could be. Martin wanted some of that power, the benefit of being mythic, although he wanted it to his own ends- rather than be amorphous and mythic because it meant people would follow him, he wanted it because he wanted them to see him as something bigger than he saw himself. The more he was a vague outline, the more likely they were to fill him in with details that made him more interesting. It's why he didn't want anyone to know about Yvette. Not playing his music was another way to keep his distance. They would sound better if no one ever heard them.

In fact, that's interesting enough to be a point worth making early on.

So he starts playing music, but he doesn't become another Valley dude in a band, either. Why not? He's not one of the special ones.

Gabriel isn't, but he becomes special because he leaves. Davíd does the same thing, albeit more slowly and more roundabout. Martin needs to leave, too. But where and why?

He might have been paralyzed and insincere, but he's not. He might have been another Valley dude with faux-ambition, but he's not. He might have been caught up in girls and drama and lost years to it, but he's not.

How does this night explain why that's the case?

Mostly it has to be Gabriel. He has to be inspired by Gabriel. At the very least, he has to be inspired to play music. Watching Gabriel shed his distance and become a real boy, Martin feels like he has to do the same. He doesn't fall into the Valley's traps because he figures out why they're traps, he knew that before anyone else did. He could stay forever, or he could go right away. He knows that he can't change things there, that he can't make it into a new place just by wishing. He knows he can't even change the people. He plays solo because he doesn't want to rely on anyone.

When he says this is a list of the things that I might have been, but I'm not, he's talking specifically about Ric, about Davíd, and about Gabriel. Ric is the guy who falls into the Valley traps. Davíd is the guy who loses heart because he's seeking drama. Gabriel is the guy who inspires others but doesn't accomplish much himself. Martin goes further and faster than any of the others because he knew them. And that's the point.

First thoughts on changes, by chapter:

Chapter One-
Instead of being a cartoonist, Elliott's raw and talented and wants to go to art school? Maybe the to school or not to school debate? He definitely does zines, maybe a snakepit style strip he puts out and sells at the coffee shop... And now he's trying to decide what he's gonna do next. His parents expect him to go to Florida for school, but he wants to stay in Texas...

The Elliott/Murray relationship needs to be redefined a bit. Elliott looks up to Murray like a super cool older brother. He's really intimidated when he learns that Annette is dating him, too.

All the Seattle stuff has to go, which is a shame, because it's interesting. But there's no place for it. Whenever we see that in this chapter, there's probably meant to be something about his parents, instead. That's a vital relationship for someone his age and it's mentioned not at all in the previous draft.

"Soldier Girl" and the Polyphonic Spree are outdated. Fictionalize them.

Chapter Two-
Jonathan is a year older than Elliott and his name's not Jonathan anymore, obviously. Which sucks, but if that's the most notable scar on the book, I'm getting out okay. He's a friend from school who took off for highway adventure after graduation... or maybe a little bit later, because he worked at the coffee shop. Maybe he got Elliott the job.

The Che Guevara hotel bit is out, too. If you've read poplife and you like that part, I feel compelled to admit that I made it up- Che Guevara never actually traveled through Texas. At the time, I didn't think it was a big deal, but at this point it makes me uncomfortable. It was kind of a cheap way out, to invent some history rather than work with what I had. I still don't think it's wrong to fabricate things in a novel, but I bet I'll get a better book out of it if it's something else. I'm thinking that it'll be an old theatre in Austin that they break into. I'll have to figure out the details of it later. I think it still needs to be tied to Che Guevara, but I'm not sure in what way.

Annette wants to be on stage still. She hasn't given that up yet, I don't think. It's just another perspective- maybe she just doesn't want to pursue it in the way she had been at college? Maybe she had compromised with her parents and gone to a regular university when she wanted straight-up drama school? I don't know...

The reveal that Annette is dating Murray will hit Elliott harder because he looks up to him.

Chapter Three-
Just a general note to self- repeat yourself way, way less, Josef.

The kill the fantasy part needs to be re-worked so they're fantasies a teenager might have, rather than someone a few years older. This is, oddly, one of the few instances where he doesn't come off like he may as well be eighteen.

The conversation with the Other Elliott still works, which is nice. The Black Sabbath references probably need to go.

Chapter Four-
Geez, so much here can just be cut outright. The stuff about what led him to leave Seattle for Austin is totally unnecessary, even if it's a grown-ups novel.

The scene with Janie is the crux of this whole chapter. Around that is a lot of Elliott repeating himself. I bet I could combine it with the salient parts of Chapter Five and have one pretty solid, coherent piece. To that end, Chapter Five notes follow here.

Oh, yeah- this is all actually pretty bad, Chapter Five is. I'd be better served to go through it and cut out the relevant, salient points than to try to salvage the thing as a whole. All of the stuff with Rebekah is bad- it makes Elliott the center of the universe, which isn't the point. And it doesn't make any sense for him to rant about people getting off on nostalgia as an eighteen year old. Rebekah can go entirely here, unless she comes up with something better to say, and the whole chapter can focus on Elliott and Janie's relationship.

That's it for now. Back on tomorrow, I'm sure.

poplife as a young adult novel. It makes sense. Start with what has to change, then.

Ages, obviously. Young adult novels are about teenagers. Fortunately, Elliott not being a teenager is a minor aspect of the book as it was written, and can be sacrificed. Elliott is okay as a twenty-five year old, but I don't really relate to him anymore, which is bad news. Very little about him changes if you make him eighteen. He's still obsessed with songs and that rushing first-love feeling. All the backstory stuff, about him moving from Seattle and the Nirvana references and whatever, that has to go, but it won't be missed, at least not in terms of the book's impact.

The book opens on Annette's twenty-fourth birthday. Her age does little to define her, too. Her backstory has her graduating and working for two years as an actress in New York, never quite making it, losing her passion, and settling in Austin. The loss of passion is an important aspect of her character, but the rest is window-dressing.

Murray is twenty-seven in the original draft, but that's non-essential, too. His backstory has him as a dot-com millionaire who went bust and poured his remaining money into a coffee shop. I think that mostly made it into the book because that was the idea John had when we were developing poplife as a movie. It's fine, but inessential.

Janie is twenty-one in the original draft, and can maybe stay twenty-one. We'll see if that's weird or anything.

The Other Elliott was fifty-five and can remain fifty-five quite safely, thanks. Maybe even sixty, if the references that fit when I wrote the book in 2003 are five years out of date.

Elliott- 18
Annette- 19
Murray- 23/24?
Janie- 20/21
Other Elliott- 55-60

That's about right. Well- I want the book to open on Annette's birthday still, so maybe she's turning twenty. She's had a year of college... except that means that everyone Elliott knows is older than he is... Which is okay, maybe. What's his story?

Elliott is eighteen years old. When he was seventeen his parents moved to Florida. He stayed in Austin to finish high school, but he had nowhere to live. It was a big thing- you can't move someone in the middle of their senior year. (why not, if he doesn't have any friends his own age? Maybe his credits wouldn't transfer properly?) He ended up moving into an apartment with Janie- the whys and hows of that need to be figured out, but it makes sense. I'll work on that bit later. He graduated in the spring, and now it's the summer.

(Okay, he's got to have some friends from school who are his own age. Even if he hasn't got time for them anymore because he's hanging out with older people.)

It's his last summer as a kid; after this, his decisions are his own. Right now, though, he's not really responsible for himself. He hasn't had to make any real choices about his life. He hasn't had to decide about college, he hasn't had to figure out where he's going to go- if he's going to move to Florida to be by his parents, if he's going to go to school in Texas, if he's going to just fart around Austin and work in the coffee shop forever. If the book takes place in June, he's got at least a little bit of time to decide- especially if he's going to go the community college route, which is more his style.

So he's living with Janie, who's a couple of years older than he is. Why did his parents let their seventeen year old son move into an apartment with a twenty year old girl?

Okay, he wasn't seventeen. Let's say they moved in November, and his birthday in October. He could have been eighteen most of his senior year. But he's still a high school kid, and moving in with a girl two years older than he is still seems dicey- especially because his parents would have had to pay his rent.

Maybe Janie's parents work with Elliott's. She'd been commuting to school, but when they moved, she got her own apartment. The family didn't have anyone to try to place him with- it's a lot to ask- and they worked out a deal with Janie's parents that they'd split the rent on a place for the two of them. Elliott and Janie were not friends before they moved in together, and she was really unpleasant about living with him until she wasn't anymore. Maybe that transformation even happens a bit in the book.

And Elliott's the sort of guy whose friends were mostly older than him anyway. Jonathan, who obviously needs a name-change now, was a year older than he was. Rebekah from the shop- maybe she's his age, but otherwise it's his work-friends and they're older than he is, and his school-friends, who graduated the year before. Maybe there's one or two people he's not close with, but the people he likes best are older.

That's a start on Elliott. Annette, though... What's her story now?

She's turning twenty. That means she's a little over a year older than Elliott, if this is June. Or, hell, maybe she's turning nineteen? Let's see- if she was seventeen most of her senior year, and turned eighteen in late May, then she could have done a year at school and come back now, about to turn nineteen. That means that she quit school after a semester, but that's possible. Might even be interesting.

Previously she came to Austin after two years of struggling in New York as an actor. In the YA telling of the story, she comes to Austin after leaving school. Acting is still important, so the question becomes why did she leave, and when? If she's turning nineteen, she left after a single semester; if she's turning twenty, she could have made it at least a year, maybe a year and a half.

What would get someone who was passionate about acting to call it quits after a semester? Or a year, or a year and a half...

Money might be a factor. Or being told, in flat terms, that she's not good enough to succeed. A combination of the two, along with a convenient excuse- a sick family member, maybe- and it'd be an excuse to cut and run.

Say she went for a semester, and her instructors were horrible. They told her she wasn't good enough, she didn't have the right look, she kept getting ignored, and she panicked. She ran back to Austin at the first sign of trouble. She's working at the coffeeshop and planning on going to UT in the fall to study theatre there, instead of getting her ass kicked at NYU for huge fees and the annihilation of her ego. It's less idealistic than her reasons for leaving in the original draft, and maybe it's a bit sadder, but it's not unrealistic.

And that's a good start. More later.

with the novel finished, except for the re-writes, the time's ripe to start casting an eye toward what's next. This is the first in a series of notes on various projects that have been kicking around for a while.

black gold:

I started this project in 2005 in Austin, wrote a first draft that I was never really satisfied with- largely because it completely falls apart in the third act- and spent a while trying to re-write it with my friend Art. We got as far as 34 pages before abandoning the project for dead. It was conceived and written as a screenplay.

The idea is good, and full of potential. I don't have any idea what format I'd try to write it in now. Logistically, it's got to be either a screenplay, a comicbook, or a novel.

I don't think I'm interested in writing a science fiction novel. Comics are hard to get made, and so are movies. I have connections in both mediums, though film's evaporating due to lack of use. It'd probably make sense to re-write for comics, which is smart anyway, as I'm good at writing for comics and not all that great at screenwriting. So I'll work on it with comics in mind, aware that it could shift to another medium easily.

The story is set in a post-oil world. At the time I conceived it, that was the lone sci-fi conceit- there were no other speculations that weren't rooted in the oil thing. In a new draft, I want to play with some other ideas. Not enough to bog it down, but things that would likely come alongside a world without oil. Namely, climate change and an end to American dominance. It'd be interesting to see an America in which people were hoarding euros, for example.

The plot is centered around Dizzy Rogers Nelson, a reporter with a military background, who travels on a zonkey, which is what happens when you breed a zebra with a donkey. He's recruited by his old friend Guillermo Torres, who works for Monticello, a powerful multinational energy company, and the two of them go about tracking down Dr Harriet Blair. Blair has published work on a plan for a machine that extracts oil from water with an amazingly high yield, which in the hands of Monticello, would allow them to essentially return the world to its oil-rich heyday, at massive profit.

That's the core of the story- everything else is auxillary to that. There've been a few approaches in the various drafts I just re-read, most of which I'd forgotten about. In most versions of the story, Dizzy knew Guillermo worked for Monticello, and agreed to help locate Blair because he believed that she was in danger; in the most recent draft, however, Guillermo was playing Dizzy, pretending to have quit Monticello, and reluctantly revealed that there might be secrets worth knowing if Dizzy found Blair. The latter is more interesting than the former. In all drafts, Guillermo involves Dizzy because Blair has disappeared utterly, and he's one of the best investigators alive; a fact that Monticello is well aware of, because his exposes have created serious trouble for them with the trainworkers union. Also in all drafts, once Dizzy tells Guillermo where Blair is, Guillermo shoots him in the back and heads to find her before Dizzy can stop him.

There are a few other characters- a crazy man living in the desert who helps Dizzy after he's shot, a higher-up in Monticello, a number of young dudes from Oakland who Blair works with in the San Francisco zoo, which she's taken over and set up as a place to keep safe. Most important of the support cast, though, is Katrina, who is both a love interest for Dizzy and someone with great influence in the train/energy/etc world. In some drafts, she's a union leader; in others, she's the daughter of the owner of a Vegas casino.

In all drafts, the story opens in Phoenix, which is a decimated population living in a mega-mall, because it's a city with no natural resources in the desert. Dizzy's always attacked at the beginning by union strongmen, which introduces the world and shows the audience what Dizzy's capable of, hinting at his background. The story follows on a train to Vegas, where Dizzy and Guillermo begin their quest. There are steps to finding Blair- one of Art's ideas was a city made of geodesic dome houses where scientists and artists live in a self-sufficient utopia, and in one draft they had to track her through the Domed City, which was a bit of a mythic place- and then, once she's tracked, Guillermo shoots Dizzy. The second act is Dizzy's recovery, which involves speeding through the desert to the bay, and finding Blair just before Guillermo does, in the San Francisco zoo. What follows is a siege of the zoo by Monticello private security forces, while Dizzy leads the tough guy Oakland dudes Blair has been running the zoo with, in an attempt to drive them away. It fails, and the second act ends with Guillermo kidnapping Blair and taking her off to Minot, North Dakota, where Monticello is based, while Dizzy is left to try to save her before she's forced to build the machine for Monticello.

Minot is a factor in the story because a few years ago, when I was in Minot, I met a young man named Jonathan who was running for the state legislature on a platform that was based around building state-owned windmills throughout the plains. The idea being that North Dakota has more wind than anywhere else in America, on average, and more undeveloped land than they know what to do with. If windmills were built on the vast expanses of public land, it could turn the state into the nation's top exporter of energy, creating both a huge economic boom for the state and helping to wean the country off of oil or coal.

I liked Jonathan's idea, and thought it'd be fun to see New York and Chicago and San Francisco replaced by Minot as America's economic and cultural hub.

Anyway, they take Blair to Minot. Dizzy recruits Katrina, who uses her resources, whatever they may be, to get him to the city, where he plans to stage a confrontation. Meanwhile Blair, as she's supposed to be building a prototype of the machine, is secretly working on a bomb.

And that's it, really. There's an ending to one draft, but it's awful. All of the other drafts stop before it gets to this point.

This is what's already been written on the story. Tomorrow, what follows is what's worth keeping, what's worth throwing away, and what needs to happen for this idea to become viable.

Like you haven't seen enough of me on your friends-page lately.

Anyway, stuck on the book. Gonna try to type it all out.

What happens so far, insofar as Symphony is concerned-

She's at the church; we learn she was at Eunice's when she saw the smoke. We don't really know why she was there. She gets mad at Robbie for being himself, but says nothing. She reviews her week- why she's tired of Robbie, why she wants to keep going. Onto David's phone call, followed by her call to her father. Then back to real-time, and nothing else.

Okay. So what's important?

We still need to know why she was at Eunice's. We should figure out why she brought Robbie, if she's tired of him. Do we need to go into great detail about how she wants to keep living this life? Can that wait? I think that it can. At the very least, it needs to be revealed subtly.

All we really need to know-

Symphony and Robbie are at the church, but they had been at Eunice's. We need to know why they were (both) at Eunice's. Does Symphony know her father is coming? She should.

(I can't help but see Symphony's father as Dwight from the office. You decide if that's awesome or horrifying.)

Ugggggh. This book is awful.

I'm never going to finish this fucking book.

Chapter Fourteen is like pulling teeth. Out of your leg, which you've gnawed off, but as you started to get to the bone, they got stuck. And now you're pulling them out with your fingers, which are bloody stumps from scratching at whatever restraints bound you in the first place.

Or something. I'm not making sense.

Back to the lab again. Okay. Why is this so hard to write?

It's hard to write because I don't like it very much right now. Because I don't know what I'm trying to say with this chapter. What's the point here? What's supposed to happen?

Jackson wants to continue being the person he'd been since he started this job in New Orleans. He wants to be able to indulge the fantasy of being normal, of not feeling the pressure of Jackpot. There are other forces at work - he's maybe not able to express himself as cleary as Jackson, he was maybe better at it when he was Jackpot - but now he's able to do it as himself, without the expectation from people that he'd be the character they saw him as. He doesn't have to worry about being better on a record. This is important, but I'm not sure where it fits in here.

I have no idea where anything fits in here. Why am I even trying to write a fucking book?

Yeah, I'm listening to the 8 mile soundtrack now. What. Give me another hour of this shit and it'll be the rocky theme. God damn it anyway.

The chapter is about Jackson going from believing that he could be satisfied with what he's built for himself in New Orleans to realizing that he wants to be Jackpot. The only good reason for him to want to be Jackpot again is because it's how he's best able to communicate.

Well, that's not the only good reason. He could want to be Jackpot again because he can have more influence on events in New Orleans. He could want to be Jackpot again because he misses being famous. He could want to be Jackpot again because he wants to prove to everyone that he's not crazy.

He could not want to be Jackpot again. Hell- that's possible, isn't it? That's an option. Here are the options:

1. He goes back to his career because he's realized that his original reasons for pursuing the career were because the most natural way he's got to communicate with the rest of the world is through music.
2. He goes back to his career because he wants to be able to lobby for New Orleans. That one's kind of unsatisfying and silly, though. At least on its own.
3. He goes back to his career because he decides life is more fun when you're famous and powerful. That one's unsatisfying, and not really what Jackson has been established to want.
4. He goes back to his career because he wants to prove to everyone he's not crazy. He wants to make a record that shuts them all up. That's not bad, but I don't know if it's enough. It'd be a factor, but not the sole factor. I think the primary motivation makes the most sense if it's that he wants to communicate. That's what I'm most interested in writing about. At least in theory.
5. He doesn't go back to his career. But that's not the theme of the book. The book's about how you go back to things that you've abandoned because of a storm.

Okay. So that's why he goes back to Jackpot.

What takes him there?

He wakes up on Monday content with his life. He ends the chapter ready to return to Jackpot in the epilogue. Chapter Fourteen is the story of how that changes.

The most important thing to keep in mind, then, is that every time I'm stuck, I need to be asking myself how this relates to Jackson's changing ideas about his career. When I'm stuck, bring it back to Jackpot.

Okay, five hundred extra words scraped out with the bloody stumps. Enough for now. Maybe I'll actually finish this fucking thing someday.

Back on the horse.

I'm going to start here by trying to figure out what actually happened to Jackson in the time between Chapter 10 and Chapter 14. The lost chapter, so to speak.

He woke up on Monday and was no longer anonymous. His picture was online, and because they had been looking for a story, they decided to make him the story of the day. The way the Internet works, people take great pride in possessing secret information before anyone else. So his whereabouts became the story, and they started passing out the number of the hotel, and then his phone started ringing. It was bloggers, first, but then the label and management. He hadn't been in touch with them in two months, and they were desperate to know where he was.

Did he talk to anyone? I think maybe he did; maybe he should have. That'd be interesting, allow for some more conflict, and a good scene to write. Who would have called? His manager, Curtis. Reggie, the hype-man from Chapter 10. Lizzie? I think probably not Lizzie. His manager would make the most sense, but Reggie's a character we've seen before, so it should probably be him.

What do they talk about? Where've you been, what are you doing there type stuff? Well, yeah, but the reader already knows the answer to those questions. What everybody - Reggie, Curtis, the reader, even Jackson himself - wants to know is, are you coming back?

Reggie calls him. Jackson's shocked to hear his voice. Wants to know how he found him. Reggie tells him to get online - Jackson says he hasn't got a computer, Reggie tells him to get one.

This is how Jackson learns about the rumors. He's heard some of them, but now people know where he is, and the real life he's been living in New Orleans is suddenly being replaced by the one that the rumor sites have made up. He hopes it'll blow over - Reggie tells him it won't.

The next day, sure enough, it's spread. He decides to go to work and forget about it. Have the guys at work heard about it? Maybe they have. That might be interesting. Maybe he goes in and everyone pretends they haven't heard, they don't know. Jackson and Jonathan talk about it, and then Paulie or Reginald chimes in, we catch on that everybody knows. Of course everybody knows - as soon as anyone besides Jonathan figures it out, they'll tell everybody else.

He's unplugged the phone already, but there are sites when he gets home promising exclusive interviews with Jackpot. He tries to dismiss it, but he knows something's up.

Does he call Reggie back? Does he call Curtis? Maybe he should call Lizzie... but no. He doesn't call any of those people, because he doesn't want to talk to any of them, decides that he doesn't care what anyone thinks of Jackpot. They can say what they want.

(what makes him decide that he does care? Is it the church burning down, or something before that? He's agreed to talk to the press before the church burns down, so why does he do that?)

The next day, there are new entries on the gossip blogs. Are they just more lies? That'll be getting boring now. Maybe there's a new bit of information from a new source - this time, rumor has it Jackpot is actually working as a day-laborer on a construction project. It adds to the he's crazy factor, which is extra-shitty because this time it's true. Is what he's doing crazy?

So he goes to work, because that's what he does, and this time there are people there. Fans, mostly, calling to him and waiting for autographs and asking him if he's really crazy. Jonathan goes down the ladder and tells them to go, this is a construction site and they could be hurt.

What does he do that night? Does it matter? I don't think it matters. He goes back to the hotel, worries some, gets a good night's sleep for work. But he can't go back to work, because when he drives to the site there are too many people there - supporters and reporters and everybody else. He calls Jonathan and tells him that he won't be in today. They make plans to get together on Friday.

And so he drives. Jackson gets in his car and starts to get out of town. He could head down to Mexico. He doesn't need this shit, doesn't want to deal with it. He could go anywhere. But why? Why should he go, when he's happy where he is. It's not him who needs to change, it's everybody else. And he's comfortable telling them that. So he goes back to the hotel. Fuck them.

At the hotel, he calls his manager. Tells him to send a reporter, a good one - someone he met in the past whom he trusts - and they'll talk. He'll go on the record, just get the guy down there by Sunday.

Friday he's dealing with the fact that, without the job, he's got nothing to busy himself. What's he supposed to do? He wanders a bit, but it's unsatisfying. He's not there to wander. He wants to go back to work.

There are other reporters around the hotel now. Why? His manager told a bunch of them to come - Jackson asks why, he says that he should do a press conference after the interview? Kind of silly... Why would they be there?

Well, where would they be if it were Chappelle or Kanye? This is a big story. How many reporters would come to talk to him? A few, at the very least. Maybe there's one from the times-picayune who wants to ask why he's not talking to him? What's he doing, if he's not there to communicate with the people of New Orleans? Is he just using them, the city? He doesn't talk to him. But it eats at him.

He doesn't even know what to say. And then Jonathan comes to hang out, and it's cool, but it feels even less sincere without the common thread of work to tie them together. They're two dudes who have little in common, and Jackson knows they can't really be honest with each other about their lives because that's not what dudes do. And he keeps hearing the beats in his head, keeps finding words. He can't communicate the way other people do. That's why he makes records.

Saturday - shit. This is a lot of time to kill. What does he do?

He calls Lizzie. Yeah, Saturday he calls Lizzie. To tell her that he's retiring. That whatever happened, whatever they've been through, she should know that, should hear it from him. Because their careers are intertwined, and it's going to affect her, and because he wants to call but needed something worth telling her. And how does she react? Is she upset or just annoyed that he called? Does she think it's a good idea? Whatever the specifics of the conversation, the point is that he's more interested in the fantasies of New Orleans and his life there, but they're exposed for being fragile, and built around things that aren't going to - that can't last. Like the church. The conversation with Lizzie sets up the idea that, once the church burns down, there's no way for him to stay, because it's all revealed as built on nothing.

Which brings us to the end of the chapter, which is Jackson doing the interview where he's about to announce his retirement, and then getting the call from Paulie that the church is on fire. He leaves the interview, and then we pick up Chapter 15 from there.

Chapter 14.

I think part of why I'm having a hard time with this chapter is the structure of it. I'm trying to write it backwards, mostly, and it's making it hard to get inside Jackson's head. I'm not even sure where his head is right now.

The last time we see Jackson in his own chapter, he's out with Jonathan. Where's his head then? They're out - they've been working. He's getting into the fantasy life he's created for himself in New Orleans, likes being free of the pressures of Jackpot. He's able to live as though he's got no obligations besides going back to work each day and doing his job while he's there. He's even allowed himself to think a little bit about what life might be like if he chose that forever - if he stayed and kept living that way and let Jackpot die. And he likes what he's come up with.

That was his general mindset. He was also coming to realize, though, that music was more than a career, and more than a form of expression for him. It wasn't just a way to get his artistic and creative impulses out, because those things aren't all that important on their own, and he could do them without ever making another record. If he was really doing it just to be creative, he could do it in his head or in the shower and never record a verse. He was coming to realize that he had made music in the past because it was how he was able to best communicate. When Jonathan told him that he doesn't like music, he heard it as a challenge.

Okay. That's right.

Question number one - how does Jackson justify together those two things? The fact that making and releasing music is his way of communicating with people, and his desire to live a simple life without the hassles of Jackpot? Is it possible to justify them? Or is he forced to simply pick one?

If he has to pick one, then he has to reject the other. If he chooses to go back to being Jackpot, he has to decide that living simply wouldn't satisfy him. Which means we need a reason.

Can he try it? Can he try to find ways to communicate to the people around him - Jonathan, mostly, but anyone - and realize that the way he thinks is in rhyme, the way he's able to express his ideas is to build them aurally and then use words in rhythm to hammer home the points? Sub-question - what has he got to say?

nothing is permanent is Jackson's theme. Does he want to express this? In all its forms, that's what he has to say. It's what he's learned from New Orleans, from the way his career's been playing out, from the past few months of his life, from Lizzie - nothing is permanent. What about it can't he express without music? And how precisely do I want to write about Jackson's music? If he makes a record that expresses the theme, do I explain what it sounds like? That seems like it's doomed to fail...

Okay, anyway. Keep writing, keep the fingers active.

Ultimately artists create because they want to get ideas across. Jackson has to pick being Jackpot again because he's realized he can't get his ideas across without Jackpot. He has to realize that the ideas he has to put across are worth more to him than living simply, easily.

But there's new pressure on him. Because the last thing that happened to him was he got found out. The Internet is ablaze with rumors of how he's on crack or something. He disappeared, then resurfaced, in the most devastated city in America. Everyone uses his silence to mean that their speculation is correct.

How does he react to that?

Does it doom his dream of living simply, easily in New Orleans?

How much do his plans change when the church burns down?

Maybe he's decided to express himself through construction, through his hands on wood, instead of music. And he'll let the church be the focus of this new life. When it burns down, he realizes how easily destroyed all of these things are, and decides to find the things that he believes in most sincerely to trust.

That was a terrible sentence, but I'm actually onto something with it. The book is about deciding which things are worth building your life around, knowing that some of them are fragile. It's about choosing the fragile things that mean the most to us, instead of the more permanent things that we're not as passionate about, because nothing is truly permanent, and it's worth the risks to trust that the fragile things will be rebuilt.

That is the book, actually. I just went back and made it bold like that so I would remember.

Except that would seem to support the idea of rebuilding the church again, rather than his career. Or would it? They're both fragile - not his career, but his belief that "Jackpot" is a necessary creation, that it's a part of him that's valid and important. His belief in Jackpot was destroyed by the breakup with Lizzie, the pressures of the follow-up record, the lack of trust he had in the people around him, the fear that he didn't care if he made a record or not anyway. Can the burning of the church be the catalyst that brings this back?

If it is, then we spend less time with Jackson in the past than I had planned, but that's probably good. Okay.

new orleans is a concept in the book, as well as a place. new orleans is anything fragile that you believe in enough to risk your well-being to stand by, even when reason tells you it should be abandoned. For Jonathan and Sierra, their relationship is new orleans; for David, it's football and family; for Eunice, it's the faith her father placed in her before she died. For Jackson, getting to his new orleans means leaving the physical New Orleans. The physical New Orleans is a place with false comforts - it's a place where it's safe to hide, but taking risks means being willing to be Jackpot again, and trying to rebuild Jackpot into something he believes in again.

Okay, enough for now, it's the middle of the goddamn night. More tomorrow.

Almost done with chapter 13. On pace to finish this one quick, like I claimed I could. How 'bout that, huh?

Just one last bit to write - the morning after Jonathan and Sierra realize that they no longer fit together, and that the past three years have been a mistake. I'm not sure what's important at this point. What needs to be played up, played down? Subtlety works better than being explicit with these two. The only really bad part of this chapter so far is Jonathan's conversation with Jackson, because it's too on-the-nose. But that's for re-writes. What about now?

Is the mundanity of the following day important? The nuts-and-bolts stuff, what they eat for breakfast? It might be - things between them are so tense that it might be interesting to know what they do next. What information can be conveyed that way? If he makes breakfast, or if he buys beignets and takes them back home, does it mean he loves her? What -does- he feel?

Okay. She can save the relationship. He can't. He's not ready to forgive himself, so he can't suggest what it'll take to save the relationship. The act of suggesting it, for her, is what saves them. So it maybe doesn't matter too much what he does or thinks, because he'd be willing to let it all die just for the fact that he doesn't believe he deserves any better.

So what does it matter what he does? If he buys beignets, he loves her, sure, but who cares? The only thing worth expressing about what's in Jonathan's head right now is that he hates himself too much to suggest what it'll take to save them.

So do I spend the next couple thousand words with her? Or with both of them, from her perspective? That might be interesting. What do they -do-? They wake up and he's asleep on the floor. She steps over him to use the bathroom. Does she wait for him to wake up or does she leave? She waits. She goes across the street for coffee and the paper and she -

No, she doesn't come back with it. She leaves, and he wakes up with her gone, but she comes back after she's had her coffee and read her paper. That's what she does in the morning, and she needs it this morning more than ever. The apartment is too small for her to do it there, so she does it at a cafe. But when she comes back, what's he doing? Maybe he's sleeping or maybe he's in the shower or maybe he's getting ready to search for her.

Or maybe he's called Eunice. Just to apologize. That'd be good. Because she deserves an apology, and he knows it. And maybe if she forgives him, he can start to forgive himself. Does he call anyone else? Any of the other women he's been less than fair to?

No, that's too much. Most of them don't care. Some do, but they were too long ago. It'd be inappropriate. But he should call Eunice. Should he do it when he wakes up?

Okay, this is all stupid. Sierra leaves while Jonathan is asleep. There's a note. please meet me tonight at jackson square. We can spend a little time with her, so what she proposes doesn't come off as a shock, or unearned - she has to go through her own experiences with the past three years and see how what she's done, and the way she's treated people, mirrors what he's done. Mostly, she has to see how what she's done offers mitigating circumstances to who he had become. She's not ready to just run out cuz he's, like, a shitty person, because doesn't she share some responsibility? So she's figuring all of that out.

Meanwhile, Jonathan's calling Eunice. Just to apologize. Because whatever happens next, he knows that he owes her that much. A sincere apology, one that will genuinely make her feel better. It's not to acquit himself, because he doesn't care right now. He's just tired of being a shitty person.

And then he meets Sierra, and they start to talk - just start, because that's when Jackson calls him, and he knows it's important if it's from Jackson on Sunday, because he knows Jackson should be way too busy for phone calls. So he answers, reckoning it's an emergency, and it is. The church is on fire.

Does she come with him? I think she must, kind of. Jeez, how's that for mealy-mouthed? But what else would she do?

She could stay in Jackson Square, she could go back to the apartment, she could, hell, go to a movie. Whatever.

Jonathan's problem is that he hasn't committed to anything since she left. Leaving her at Jackson Square to deal with the fire - that's the sort of commitment that he should have made a long time ago.

But why wouldn't she go? Well, because it's a fire. Asking her to come is downright bizarre. So he goes alone, and she lets him, because she likes watching him care.

And that's where the chapter ends. There's a little hope, and it leads into Jackson.

Thoughts for the inevitable first round of re-writes:
Jonathan needs to be the carefree, likeable guy I describe him as. Like, on page 2. Otherwise no one will believe it.
David needs to be 75% less whiny. He's kind of a dick, but we accept that about people who accept it about themselves. He's had years of being ostracized from people important to him because of his dickiness, and he can't hate himself forever.

Jonathan's chapter is flowing out pretty easily, much to my surprise. It's supposed to be relatively short, at least as far as these things go - I'm shooting for about 7000 words, and I'm already about halfway there. If I can maintain momentum, I expect I can finish this one off in the next couple days (a promise I've broken to myself a number of times in the past).

So, the hitch right now - Sierra's on the train, on her way to New Orleans. Jonathan, meanwhile, is with Jackson. It's the eve of a big day for both of them, and they've decided to get drunk together in Jackson's hotel room, in order to keep living life the way they'd both been living it for the past however-long for one more night. Because tomorrow, everything changes. Tomorrow Jackson has to meet the press, meet his fans and his label and everybody else. Tomorrow Sierra arrives and Jonathan has to begin the next phase of his life, the one that follows the three years he's been living the way he has.

So what do they talk about? It's not about the you nervous? and the what's it like? and the stuff I was typing a couple of minutes ago. This isn't a casual conversation about what they're gonna do next. They're gonna be okay, and the details don't matter. They don't even have the sort of friendship that allows them to get too deeply into it. It's not a planning session, it's a wake.

So abandon that tack. "Gee, Jackson, are you nervous about the interviews you have to do tomorrow?" "I don't know, Jonathan, are you worried that your relationship with Sierra will be forever altered?" That's not what it's about. It's about these two friends realizing that come tomorrow, they can't really be friends anymore. I mean, they can be friends, but not the way they had been - they can't be carefree, just two dudes who haven't got a whole bunch of responsibilities hanging out and watching football and working together. Because Jonathan has a wife, and Jackson has a career that he can't hide from, and there are too many responsibilities that come with both of those things for them to pretend that they're still free, still have it easy.

That's what the conversation is about. That's what they're there for. To acknowledge that they're both about to live very different lives than they had been, and to share that with someone who understands.

Okay, back to work.

She kisses him. They have a happy ending. The book is finished.

And that's why Chapter 13 is hard to write.

So last time we saw Jonathan, he was with Eunice, talking about Sierra. The chapter ended with the line i need her to come to me.

Actually, that's not the last time we saw Jonathan. After that, he was with Jackson, at work and at the club, watching the band play. As far as we're concerned, however, nothing had happened in the meantime.

So what's happened in the meantime? Like, even the stuff that's not in the book. What did he actually do?

He went to see Eunice on Tuesday, was at the club with Jackson on Thursday. That's all, so far. Everything else, I haven't really figured out. So I won't try to write the chapter as though I already have. Let's start at the beginning.

Clearly he's gotten in touch with Sierra. He has to have - there's no reason for him not to, now that he's acknowledged that he has to. We spent a chapter and a half getting to that point, so let's go. Does he call? Write? Email?

She wrote him a letter and put it in the post. Would he have done the same? No. Mainly because it takes too long. Once he's figured out what to do, it has to happen. So, either he emails her or he calls her.

I don't like email in this book. Call me anachronistic, but I'm not really fond of this being the way these lovers communicate. Because to each of them, it's bigger than email, epic and their correspondence must be hand-delivered and collected-

Although, maybe sending her an email would be appropriate. Because it's a real, normal way to get in touch with someone now. A letter, being an artifact, is more about the physicality of it, what it means. Email is functional. And isn't that what Jonathan wants?

A phone call's functional, too, though. So maybe he just calls her. Well.

Usually the way they communicate is to write letters, to drop postcards in the mail or to give notes to friends who are traveling to see one or the other. It's all intentionally anachronistic and precious, because it keeps things distant. Since distance isn't what either of them is interested in now, he calls her. Not only is it immediate, but it's direct. An email can be ignored.

Do I show the conversation? I think I can avoid it, because I can't imagine it was very interesting. More likely he told her that she had to come to him, that he couldn't just uproot himself, and she said okay. Is it interesting if she fights him on it? "No, I have too much to do here -" "I've always been the one to..." Okay, no, that's a conversation that takes place off the page. Because there's nothing to it that didn't come across to the reader when he told Eunice that he needed her to come to him.

So she says she'll come to him. Now, we haven't met Sierra yet, not really. We see her in a letter that she writes to Jonathan, and we get three glimpses of her in three different flashbacks - them when they were nineteen, then a couple of months before the book starts, and their break-up. Maybe we should get to know Sierra.

The chapter might open strong if it starts with Sierra on the train. Or, hell, even before that. Nothing too extensive, a thousand, maybe two-thousand words of her from the time she leaves her apartment in Chicago and then what happens to her on the train to New Orleans. I like that, actually. Let's get to know Sierra, let's get to see Jonathan through her eyes. We've seen him from Jackson's perspective, and from Eunice's. Hers is the obvious one we're missing.

Okay, that's strong. We open with Sierra on the train. Do you see why I keep this journal? Pages upon pages of pontificating on the point of the process, but then I find new things I had been missing.

So we start with Sierra's journey to New Orleans. What is Jonathan doing while all this is happening?

He's in New Orleans, obviously. Still working on the church. Does he still spend a lot of time with Jackson? Obviously Jackson's got his own shit to deal with now, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't still need a friend. Yeah, he obviously spends a lot of time with Jackson. And Eunice? Probably. These are his friends. He works and he sees his friends. How does he feel about the fact that Sierra is coming to town? He's a little bit scared, but we've spent a long time showing Jonathan as a mess because he didn't know what to do about Sierra coming to town. Maybe he's not scared. Maybe the fact that the decision has been made, that the plan is in motion, has put him at peace. Now he's calm. He's close to having the life he's wanted - the girl and the purpose and not being an adjunct to her life, and is he confident that it's all really going to work?

Well, that's a good question.

In the meantime, he's with Jackson, who still comes to work. Everyone on the job notices him now, and maybe there's a crowd of onlookers who watch them at work. That might be fun to write, actually. He's with Eunice, who is a little too busy for him, but who also needs him desperately.

So, the chapter opens with Sierra on her way to New Orleans, then runs back to Jonathan and what he's doing for the eighteen hours she's on the train. That'll be a good way to structure it. From there, they're together. So the first part's set, I'll write it later tonight or tomorrow, and go from there.

Hey, if you're ever in the home stretch for finishing a really long novel that you've been working on for over a year, don't take a month off to move to another continent. It'll make it hell when you try to get back into the story.

So I finished Chapter 10 yesterday. It's kinda crappy, but useable, after a re-write or two. Most importantly, tho, it's done, so I can move on and deal with it later. Better that than the paralysis that comes with being unable to decide on what to do next.

Onto Chapter 11, then. This is David and Symphony again. Last we saw them was Chapter 7, and I just re-read that. It's good, actually, better than I thought it probably would be, but the ending for it is crappy and not the super-cool cliffhanger I'd intended. The way it ends now, Symphony comes home after staying out all night and finds this woman her uncle's been doing it with in the apartment wearing a big shirt of his. Except I don't give much context for why that's upsetting to Symphony, nor do I show David as being surprised or worried or even particularly interested in the fact that his teenaged niece has spent the night somewhere in New Orleans. So there's no emotional resonance on either end for the reader. It's probably easily corrected - David's narrative needs to focus a bit more at the end on the fact that Symphony hasn't come home, and what that may mean (which also makes him a bad person, kinda, as instead of worrying or trying to track her down or whatever, he decides she's not here, i'll take a booty call) - while Symphony needs to spend a bit more time questioning what really happened between David and Gwen, and whether or not he's going to hold his end of the bargain this time. Once that's in place -

Chapter 11 is about them dealing with some fallout - he's concerned about her staying out all night, getting involved with shady Decatur people, and she's concerned with him fucking around while he's supposed to be on the verge of reconciling with his ex-wife. They'll get at least one scene together on good terms, and then he tries to be parental - something about her not staying out again, or the people she's with probably being bad people. She gets indignant - he hasn't met them, and he's not her dad, and what the fuck is he doing condemning anyone else as a bad person, etc... So she leaves, doesn't come back again, and he calls Eunice, who can't help him, and then he calls his brother.

Yeah, that's what this chapter was supposed to be about. Jesus, I spent hours lying awake last night trying to remember, and ten minutes of typing about it sends it all flooding back. This is why documentation is important.

So he calls Stephen, and he flips out for not calling earlier, and -

Hell, I don't know for sure what happens next, but that's probably a good five thousand words, so I can figure it out in the meantime.

And on top of that, in Chapter 10, Krueger got injured and David's suddenly supposed to carry the team on his back, which he's incapable of, and which needs to be proven quickly to him.

So, yeah. Plenty to write. I'm not totally sure what's going on with Symphony, who her friends are, but I have a bit of time to figure that out, too.

All right, maybe I will finish this fucking book after all.

Not really sure how far I am into Chapter Ten now. I mean, I've got 1500 words on paper right now, but I haven't figured out quite where I'm going yet.

In the 1500 words down so far, I've more or less laid out the point of Jackson's story. It gives me things I'll have to touch up in re-writes, and outlines one of the themes of the book in a cool way - that Jackson was trying to get away from America when he left, and New Orleans is the only place he could do that (that's in bold so I'll remember to go back to chapters 2 and 6 and give it some foreshadowing) - but where now?

Well, what's going on now is that Jackson has successfully escaped from the life he had before. He's not Jackpot anymore, not even really recognized, and that's what he wants. There's no pressure on him to go back to his career. He's got a job now. Roofing. It's what he thinks he wants.

Is it really what he wants? It's tricky - the way it's set up right now, there has to be a strong catalyst for him to realize that it's maybe not what he really wants. I'm not sure what that is yet. It's not just that he misses the fame, or the feeling of being a success. Right now, he's happy. He's got music, but it's just for himself; his time's spent mostly working and with his new friends.

Will the church burning down be the thing that sends him back? That's a lot of time spent without much point, then, isn't it? I could pretty much leave Jackson out of it until that happens, if that's the case.

So, no, that can't be it. That'll have an effect on him, but his crisis point needs to happen in this chapter.

Why do we make art? Is it for ourselves or for others? Is introspection just masturbation? If you're making art that isn't intended to be seen or heard by anyone, what's the point? Is it just the joy of creating? Maybe.

Why am I writing this book? Because I have some ideas that I want people to know about. When I was screenwriting, I was doing it for money, and I didn't like it, and so I wrote poplife instead. So if the art you're creating isn't personal, then there's no impetus to do it.

After Jackpot's last album, everything he came up with was designed to top it. It wasn't exactly forced, but it wasn't coming from the same place. Well, shit - it's hard to keep your art coming from the same place over the years, I know that much. After a while you have to find new forms of expression.

But Jackson - people wanted more from him, and he had put so much pressure on himself to live up to it, that he had to run.

What's his story really look like?

Boy becomes successful - boy meets girl - girl inspires boy to greater success - boy becomes overwhelmed by pressure - boy starts making art that doesn't say what he really wants to say - girl finds boy increasingly difficult to be with - girl leaves boy - boy tires of being famous when he's not creating - boy leaves country - boy stops creating - boy finds reason to create - boy returns to country - boy panics at the thought of people actually listening to the new shit he's come up with because of the light it paints him in - boy runs off to New Orleans - boy decides that he can do more good working on reconstruction than rebuilding his career - boy makes friends - boy's life gets easy - boy ignores career to focus on low-pressure life in New Orleans.

That's it, so far.

So what next?

Why does Jackson make music? Why did he stop?

He stopped because he had the whole world listening, and didn't know what to say. It was so much easier when no one was paying that much attention. He started small and people listened; he was at the top of his game after that, used his new platform to refine what he had to say and do something important to him. And people responded. Now they wanted him to redefine himself again. Because they weren't just into him for saying what he said, or for making records the way he did - they were into him because of the newness of what he was doing. And he didn't have any newness in him.

And so now, now he's got some new ideas, new things to say. But he likes not having to say them.

Why does he make music? Is it for himself or for the rest of the world?

Well, it's to communicate. He does it for himself, and then needs the world to take it from him. It's not just to make them like him, it's to let them know that he exists, that he's there and has these things to say. It's not for them to like or dislike, it's for them to know.

Now he's in New Orleans, and he's working on this church, talking about community, but he's hiding. You can't have community if you're hiding. You can't have it if you're trying to avoid communicating genuinely with people. Shit - even Jonathan doesn't know that he's Jackpot. He's hiding.

Okay, I have to call it quits for now. But there's at least some food for thought here.

Chapter Ten. Making good time here.

At this point in the book, there's no more room for exposition. Each chapter has to introduce the crisis for the character it follows. Chapter Nine flipped the script on Jonathan- instead of being a story about whether or not this guy would choose to be with the girl, it's about what it means to make a promise, to give a big part of yourself to someone else, to accept and embrace the loss of self that comes with choosing to commit. Chapter Ten needs to change Jackson's plot, too.

So far, Jackson's story is about a guy who has a successful career but wants to run from it, wants anonymity instead of fame, wants to do something useful instead of constantly try to meet other people's expectations.

Where does it go from here?

As we start Chapter Ten, Jackson doesn't want to go back to his career, and he's pretty sure he never will. He doesn't need to- he's got this rad new job working construction. Who needs to go back to being a superstar? So Jackson's story is about- well, I'm not sure yet.

By the end of the chapter, the question he's asking himself at the beginning is going to be revealed to have two bogus answers. Because that's the way structuring conflict works. Every character is always searching for something- answers, or peace of mind, or new opportunity, or whatever. And because people are binary creatures, they tend to have two ideas as to how to get it- stay/go, give up/try again, jesus/liquor, fuck/don't fuck, you know how it goes. Whenever you have a crisis in your life, you process it by coming up with two options.

Jackson loves music. That's important. It's not that he can retire and be happy forever and ever working construction. He loves music, it's in his head constantly, its a part of every aspect of his personality. He can't just walk away from it, and he knows that. But he's so much happier pretending that he can. There's no pressure. All he has to do is show up for work and rebuild that church and no one wants him to be something other than a guy who does that. So the question is, ultimately, how do you find happiness? And the answers are through music and through work.

Every story is about how we are binary creatures who think too small, and how the key to happiness is looking beyond what we thought we knew in order to find true happiness. Find me one that isn't; I'll wait.

So by the end of the chapter, when Crisis! comes into play, it's because neither going back to music nor staying in New Orleans and working on churches is truly satisfying to him.

Oh, man. I'm exhausted. I'll finish these thoughts and more tomorrow.

2300 words tonight, and Chapter Nine is finished.

That's all, at least for tonight.

And other parts of Chapter Nine are just hard to write because the words hurt to put on paper. This is going to be a good book, I believe that again.

I'm just above 4800 words for the chapter now, but there's no end in sight - I reckon it'll be 10,000 words before it's finished, and that's too damn long. I'm sure there are parts to trim later, but at least it continues to move at a steady clip now. If I re-read the first 3600 words with the interest of making it clear and not sucky, I imagine it'll shed a thousand words then and there, and maybe it'll all be good writing by the end.

At any rate, this monstrosity of a chapter is finally beginning to tell the story of the book, the one I wanted to tell from the day I started thinking about it. There's a long fucking road to go, but it's a good feeling nonetheless.

Well, I have 3500 crappy, coherent words down for Chapter Nine now. This is a big deal - I've been trying all weekend to transform the 2000 crappy, useless, nonsense words into something I could work with.

I'm a better editor than I am a writer. Luckily, that holds true with my own stuff, too, so the editor can just fix the crap the writer comes up with.

Chapter's probably only halfway done, but I reckon I can safely cut at least a thousand of these crappy words. Progress, not perfection.