For me, there are three stages to writing a novel:

1 - Hey, I've got this idea! I'm gonna write about it.
(symptoms include bright-eyed innocence and the blind faith that somehow I'll figure out all those missing details on the way - and it'll be easy)

2 - Holy crap, I might actually finish this thing!
(characterized by awe and giddy joy)

3 - Ohmygods - people aside from my editors are going to read this thing!
(evidenced by stark fear, obsessive editing, excitement, and disbelief)

Guess where I am now?

This transformation of inspiration from private to public makes me an neurotic wreck every time, and having implicit trust in my editors doesn't help at all. Fortunately, I finally figured out a way to curtail the obsessive editing.

I'm going back to that high fantasy epic I started in 1992 and shelved, for various reasons. One of the characters still gives me cravings for English muffins with honey and a slice of cheese by the side, and the other is the reason I have so damn many daggers and swords around the house.

I'm pretty sure this one will never see print. I'm not sure they would want their private lives offered up like that. They've waited patiently for years, though - and not-so-patiently demanded avatars in Lord of the Rings Online. I think it's their turn.

Hell - it'll be a snap. I already know how most of the story goes (well, except that one part in the middle...)

... you open up your email and one of the messages is titled "Trebuchet For Sale"

Pam Silver, beloved entertainment director of the late '90s, crossed the veil on Saturday.

In an era when management changed every year or two, Pam was pure gold. I always had the sense that she was in my corner - in the corner of every entertainer, really. She was one of us, not just the Lady In Charge. I'll miss seeing her in the lanes.

Gentle journeys to you, Pam. You're missed already.

It's amazing what a bit of time off from work will do for a person's productivity - at least, if that person is a results-driven, anal-retentive weirdo like me.

While simultaneously scanning in a metric crapton of very old Fest newsletters (on loan), parsing through some old video footage of site, and providing a warm sleeping space for one of my cats, I managed to get up the two excerpts of Towards the Fates (aka: Book Three) I intended to read at Talent Show last month. (One of them I read. The other, for brevity's sake, I did not.)

For those interested, they can be found at:

Faire-Folk Excerpts

Although I did not know this, my grandmother kept a photo album for each of the grandkids. Mom brought my brother's and mine back from her last trip to Wisconsin. Among various nostalgic and cool (to me) pictures and notes to Santa, I found the following:

A piece of paper, Xeroxed, with a picture of a turkey playing a large drum and several turkey drumsticks (at least, I assume that's what they are) with musical notes by their faces to indicate that they are singing. It's one of those friendly looking assignment sheets that elementary school teachers favor. In fact, the heading on this reads:

Tom Turkey and the Drumsticks (creative writing)

Penciled above it are the words:

by: Meghan Brunner (c) Nov 18, 1986 To: Grandma & Grandpa
[Yes, I put the copyright sign in. It gets funnier]

The large drum has lines spaced at just the right width for a story. And indeed, the story follows (original spelling intact):

One day Tom Turkey desided to invite his favrot singing grup for Thanksgiving day. His favrot singing grup was called the Drumb-sticks. [Drumb-sticks is broken and hyphenated over two lines] Tom said "stay here with me and people won't eat you up." I have a problim said Tom. The Drumbsticks wanted to know what it was. Well if you rilly want to know Meghan is wrighting a story about us and she dosn't wantna half to wright down Drumbsticks every time she menshions you. Just call us the sticks then. So the Sticks sang songs and ate fish. The End.


... I laughed so hard I almost peed. "So the Sticks sang songs and ate fish." I think this is going to be my new catch phrase for All Things Good. Singing songs and eating fish. (Funny how my idea of a good time hasn't changed much since third grade. Sushi and a music jam? Sounds like heaven to me.)