I managed to drag and beat into a readable pulp a whole whopping SEVENpages of book 3. I spent backbreaking hours sucking back frappacinnos as I hunched over my most precious Macbook Air with my ears plugged into my current playlist to bring those pages into the world kicking and screaming. Exhausted I went home, corralled the Prankster Duo and knight in slightly muddy armor from the hypnotic trance of the latest video craze of SWTOR and we were sitting around the table to enjoy the wonderful world of Pizza Hut, when an almight noise emerged from the night.
Knight and I jumped up, grabbed our sharp pointy and edgy things, set the hellhound to watch the Duo and emerged onto the porch. The unholy wails were coming from Eerie’s side of our little enclave. For a moment I was worried his undead pets had slipped their leashes, but it was much, much worse than that.
Eerie’s got a steady head on his shoulders…most times, so this very explosively loud outburst was not normal. In our Swamp not normal generally means mud is about to hit the fan. I left Knight to stand guard and slid into the early evening to find out what the hell was going on. It wasn’t long before Snarky and her whip were imitating a shadow to my left and Quirky and his quarterstaff took his spot on my left. That pompous soon-to-be-new-pair-of-boots, aka Mr. C. Dial was lounging in his front yard, tsking about how he had been told this was such a nice neighborhood, such a pity.
Ignoring him, our little trio made it to Eerie’s place to find Smokey trying to force a bowl of…well…something into Eerie’s shaking hands. The poor guy looked like a magnitude 10.0 was happening under his hairy feet. A whisper of sound announced Jedi’s arrival and down the trodden path a pair of headlights bounced our way. Great, the Muses were heading in. Good grief, it was a frickin’ party!
It took a bit, but we finally got Eerie to tell us what was up.
Mischevious was gone…flown the coop…flocked away!
His collection of shiny bits was still scattered around his perch, and we couldn’t finop…flocked away.
d any sign of forcible abuduction, but Eerie’s convinced he’s been raven-napped. He’s even posted a rewarde for info.
Suspects are not exactly littering the ground, but personally, after seeing the little tete-a-tee between our Raven and Pompous Ass, it wouldn’t surprise me if that walking luggage set had something to do with it. I told the old man with the tool belt to take a break on the flask thing and sent my muse with him to go listen to the talk down at the Swamp Shack. Maybe we’d get lucky and the two of them will hear something.
In the meantime, I’m keeping my eye on that yes-man down the road, just in case.
If you have any info on Mischevious, do me a favor and let Eerie know? He’s at 777-7777.
As for the writing thing, as I trudged home it hit me, those seven pages…yeah, they weren’t going to work. During the walk home, I steamed and stewed but at least I know where I’m going to actually start now. Problem is, Shadow’s Soul needs to make it’s way to my editor. I haven’t been very good at multi-tasking with this third book, so as frustrating as it is, it’s going to the back burner while I stop procrastinating and buckle down for editing hell. A few more tweaks and it should be a done deal. Then on to book 3….