Feb 28- I rode the BLAZING SADDLE

Day Twenty Eight. I wore a shining star.

The Blood of the Gods- 1048 words

I do so love some of the Mel Brooks movies and do so hate what they spawned.

So very tired.

A post-mortem to come...

Oh, and I'm twittering-

http://twitter.com/Bill_Williams

Progress Report, Day 27

Comics pages: 8
Prose words: 1,200

Not a bad day, but I fear this could be it for me, unless Bill totally blows it today. I feel like John McCain on the eve of Election Day, and me without even a Country-singing plumber to show me the way.

I'll just have to cross my fingers and hope for the best...

Progress Report, Day Twenty Seven

On final day minus one I had another ten point day.

Prose Writing: 0 Words.

Comics Writing: 21 Pages.

Notes: I was going to stop at 20 pages of comics script, but I had a thought and a scene that I wanted to finish. The other big work-eating call, that I was supposed to have to deal with, didn't happen, so my reprieve gave me the extra hours I needed to work through the day. Today has to be a big day too, since it's the last work day I get before I take far too much time off to move to Minnesota. I have to finish up the final two or five pages on several issues of this and that, including lots of Fables related projects, and one dangling JSA issue.

     After today boxes and packing and tossing out anything that isn't worth hauling across a continent rules my time and attention on a fairly exclusive basis. Hey, I just had an idea to make the packing more fun! We'll make a Clockwork contest out of it! For every box fully packed we get one point, and one point for every ten fragile items bubble wrapped! Two points for every heavy item of furniture hauled to the moving van! Sure, you other Tick Tock guys aren't actually moving, but you can just unpack the stuff after the contest is over and it will be great practice for the next time you do move!

     We can call it The Great March Moving Madness!

     How 'bout it, guys?

Travel Day

I'm on the road again.
Goin' places that I've never been,
Seeing things that I may never see again,
and I can't wait to get back to home again.

Insert banjo solo here.

Feb 27- Weekend Thirty

Day Twenty Seven.

The Blood of the Gods- 727 words

So very tired.

2,378 words and counting (updated below)

Still working. I've got stuff to do, and what's more, more to write. I spent part of the day working out an interview scene between Finch, MacElroy, and Paige. Normally, I don't plan out dialogue, preferring to keep it light and spontaneous, but in this particular instance, I've got to impart really specific information and dole it out, just so.

I've got some more time tomorrow before we pack up and head back to Vernon, three hours away. When I get there, I'll be diving right into movietime, so I won't get to update until late in the evening.

As this contest rumbles to a close, I feel a little irked that Real Life intruded so much, but then again, this whole deal came together at the last minute, so I guess it's how spur-of-the-moment things go sometimes. I do have in mind to write a 30-day novel, Old-School style, this year. The idea was to pick a month when I didn't have very much going on, like April, and then break out some Vintage CWSB moves. I may still do that, depending on how our annual retreat is scheduled. Anyway. There's more coming.

On the plus side, I'm thrilled that I got a jump-start on this project, even if I didn't get nearly as far as I wanted. One of my writing goals was to write and shop a novel this year, but considering how everything is playing out so far, I may well have two or even three novels to shop this year.

Here's a bit of unedited mayhem:

Something slid into the alley and landed a few inches from where Honker knelt over Caroline. He turned to spy what it was and couldn’t have been more surprised to find a coiled rattlesnake inches from his thigh, its head raised to strike. The rattling sound clinched it, and Honker jumped up and away as fast as he could.

Caroline watched, transfixed, as Honker leapt into the air and made a noise like a frightened kid, a high, keening wail. He moved left, farther down into the alley, and that’s when the man appeared out of thin air and stiff-armed Honker, who fell flat on his back with the air knocked out of him.

He had to be at least seven feet tall, dressed in a business suit and a trenchcoat, which seemed to whirl and eddy around his feet like a living thing. He wore one of those old timey hats, like Humphrey Bogart, and also...was that a mask?

He waved his hand at Honker and Caroline screamed as a real live rattlesnake appeared out of his empty hand and struck Honker in the chest. Honker screamed, convulsed and then lay still. The serpent went limp, and then retracted into the strangely-dressed man’s hands. He stepped forward and crouched down over the pimp. His hands were like snakes, seeking, probing the body, looking for God only knows what. He finally stood and pulled the lifeless form of Honker up and heaved him into the dumpster. Caroline saw her chance and took it. She got up and started to run, and damned if she didn’t run right into another man who seemed to come straight out of the darkness.

He wore a gray pajama top, like what she’d seen the Muslims wear. Around his waist was a dark red sash that belted the top, and black, baggy pantaloons around his legs. He wore a red fez on his head, and while his eyes were kindly behind the black mask on his face, his grip on her was firm and absolute. “A thousand pardons, Ma’am,” he said, “but we must speak with you.”

Without another word, Jinn turned her around and there, inches from her face, was the masked man. “My name is rattlesnake, whore,” he said. “Do you know me?”

In the six months that she’d been in New York City, Caroline had talked to a number of street people, from bums to vice cops. In that time, she’d heard a handful of tales that she instantly dismissed as stuff they tell the rubes. Stuff about a man who could talk to snakes...a guy that killed people, like a voodoo man, using rattlesnakes...part Dracula, part Billy the Kid, he helped people by killing criminals. And now, she was looking at this man, and she did know who he was. The bravado she felt with Honker vaporized the face of this, the unknown, and the tears rolled freely down her cheeks. She could only nod.

“I’ll use the language you can understand, whore. Your pimp is dead. Everything that was his now is mine. Including you.” Rattlesnake held up the knife that Honker had so recently used to threaten her. “See? His fangs.” Rattlesnake leaned in close. All she could see was his eyes, cold and dark, like a snake’s. “My fangs are worse.”

“Please,” she spluttered, “I don’t want to die. Don’t do this to me. I’m not like him.”

Rattlesnake pulled his head back and hissed, “Don’t you see, whore? Your life is mine, to do with as I see fit.”

Caroline sobbed, uncontrollable at this point. She tried again to beg for her life, but all that came out was a short, braying sound.

“I know who you are, Caroline Jones,” he said. “I will come for you with further instructions. Until that time, you will take care of your body. It’s mine, now, and I will make use of it later. No drugs, no alcohol, and no sex. Do you understand me?”

The idea that he wasn’t going to kill her was a lifeline, and Caroline grabbed it eagerly. “Yes, yes, I’ll do whatever you say,” she babbled.

Rattlesnake turned and walked away from her, right into the darkened alley, and vanished from sight. She slumped, not realizing that the other man was holding her up. He turned her back around. “Listen,” he said, his eyes wide and sincere. “You have one chance to escape him.”

“What?” she sniffed.

“You’re from Illinois, yes?”

“How did you...?”

The man pressed her purse into her hands. “Never mind that. Take this and get out of town. In your billfold is a card. It’s a woman’s shelter. You can stay the night there. In the morning, get breakfast and ask them for a ride to Penn Station. They will take you there, you get on the train, and you go back home.”

She shook her head. “I can’t go back there,” she said.

“Yes, you can,” said the man. “It’s the only way to escape him. He can’t find you if you leave the city. Go home. Whatever you have done, whatever you think you did, they will forgive you in your home.” He let her go. “It’s the only way.” He glanced into the shadows of the alley. “I have to go. We never met. I never told you this, understand?”

She nodded. “I’ll go.”

“See that you do,” he said. “He’s watching you right now.”

That was more than enough for Caroline. She took off in as much of run as she could muster with her heels on. The bus was up ahead and she dove straight into the closing doors, skinning both knees in the process. The driver started to help her up, but saw the earmarks of prostitute on her and let her struggle with the bland indifference that only city people can muster. In Fort Wayne, she mused, I could get a hand or two to help me get on the bus.

Once she was more or less erect, she found enough change in her handbag to pay the fare, got a transfer, and sat down heavily in one of the handicapped seats. She cried quietly for several minutes, until her tears dried up and she felt a little safer. She cautiously fished her wallet out of her purse and opened it. Her Illinois driver’s license stared at her, a different person altogether, taken two years ago on her eighteenth birthday. Tucked into the crease was a business card and a hundred dollar bill. She hid the money, lest anyone on the bus see it, and looked at the card. On one side was a written address and the name of the woman’s shelter. On the back, a coiled rattlesnake with four words underneath it: Don’t Tread on Me.

She shuddered and slumped down in her seat, sure that reptilian eyes were following her as the bus lumbered down the street.

UPDATE

4,141 words total

Got it done. Not sure I like it, but it felt right coming out. I don't want to second-guess it; that way leads to madness and death. However, I will need some editorial input, just to keep my cops honest.

Progress Report, day Twenty Six

Comics pages: 14
Prose words: 0

Astonishingly, I did exactly the same amount of work as Bill. I had no lengthy phone calls, but I did spend a few hours playing hide and seek (among others) with my daughter. So I was probably having more fun.

Progress Report, Day Twenty Six

I tried for another ten point day, but didn't make it.

Prose Writing: 0 Words.

Comics Writing: 14 Pages.

Notes: A very long work-related phone call threw a monkey wrench into the plan, robbing some of yesterday's prime work hours. I can't mention what the majority of the comic pages were, other than saying they involve a certain well-known wolf. Spent no time on Mars yesterday, except in my thoughts and plans. I thought briefly about how I could make the hero of my Mars story and the hero of my Sword and Sorcery story the same fellow, but then realized why that wouldn't work, unless I drastically altered at least one of the stories. Too bad. Ever since ERB I've had a hankering to do something along the lines of his, "As near as I can recall, I've always been a man of about thirty years."

     So, Matt, did you steal a march on me yesterday?

Roberson's Report... What day is it, again?

Did I win, yet?

Apologies for running silent the last few days. I got a good head of steam up on Sons of Dorn on Tuesday, racking up a few thousand words and looking to sprint towards the month's finish. But then Wednesday was muddled by doctor visits for me and my daughter (a routine checkup for her--she's fine--and a follow-up to see if my medications are keeping my blood pressure and cholesterol below the life-threatening levels they had reached--and they seem to be). I was back at my desk by 11AM on Wednesday, ready to get a half-day of writing in, at least. Then I read the news that Philip José Farmer had died. That pretty much took the wind out of my sails.

I won't repeat here all the things I've said about Phil elsewhere (in my blog archives are my first reaction, and a more measured response the next day), but suffice it to say that I didn't get much work done for a couple of days. I didn't even find time to post my tally for Tuesday. Yesterday, I tried to honor Phil in my own way by spending the day writing, but I'd been unable to sleep on Wednesday night, for completely unrelated reasons (I'm blaming a bottle of wine I think had gone bad, but it may have been a stomach flu), and instead spent the day thinking about my career from this point forwards, pausing for a moment to consider just what sort of writer I want to be remembered as. My immediate plans won't be changing, and I'll be continuing in the short term with all of the projects and series I've got in the works, but my emphasis will be shifting over the course of the next year or so, and as much as possible I'm going to be doing more of the kinds of writing I enjoy doing, and probably not as much of the kind that I do just because I think other people will like it.

In any event, I'm sorry that events of the last few weeks have kept me hobbled, unable to fully join the race, and that I wasn't able to demolish the other competitors as was their due. Next time I'll just try that much harder.

Feb 26- The Wonders of the Pitch

Day Twenty Six. I wrote another pitch and tightened up the text for a pitch we'll be sending out in a few days. It is interesting to work with Thom (Love & Capes) Zahler in this webcomic format.

The Blood of the Gods- 742 words

Watched Burn Notice and I love how accessible it is. Clocking out early.

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Progress Report, Day 10,000

Comics pages: 4
Prose words: 8,031

I wasn't going to go down without at least a single 10-point day to my name. This one took a lot of doing, as I ended up working on four different projects in order to get it done. Three of the comics pages were Jack of Fables, and one of from House of Mystery. The majority of the prose was the new novel, but the last 250 words, the ones that got me over the hump, was a pair of long paragraphs from the kids' book.

Here's a few paragraphs from the new novel:

“My name is Paet,” said Everess’s associate. “You’ve never heard of me, and I doubt you’ll meet many who have. I know a number of useful things, and I will teach you these things should you decide to accept our offer.

“And who, exactly, are you?” asked Silverdun, looking the man in the eye.

“I am a Shadow,” said Paet. “Nothing more.” He tapped his blackwood cane on the ground.

“What does that mean?”

Paet smiled, a tiny, precise smile. “Its lack of content is precisely what defines a Shadow, Lord Silverdun. That is one of the things I will teach you.”

Silverdun wanted to mock this strange man’s deliberate obtuseness, but found himself unable under the glare of those wolfish eyes.

“Here is another thing that you will learn someday, though you won’t understand it now. Shadows are not creatures of darkness. They are cast, by the sun. They are the necessary consequence of that which stands in the way of light.”

“You’re right,” said Silverdun, attempting a nonchalant smile. “I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re going on about.”

“You will,” said Paet simply.

Oh, snap!

Feb 25- The Parallel Indy

Day Twenty Five. I screwed off most of the day after I wrote another pitch. I'm struggling against the burnout here.

The Blood of the Gods- 1355 words

Watched Life. It's great, but largely abandoned. I read a few tweets on twitter which would seem to be a boon to stalkers. Then I watched another one of the episodes of An Unsuitable Job for a Woman. That Cordelia Gray is adorable! At first glance, I thought it would be like the 'Bridgetown' pitch that Willingham and I bullied Mark Finn into making. But it's different. And damn, those things are long.

I recently discussed an alternate Earth version of Raiders of the Lost Arc with my buddy Tim. We were discussing the one on the world run by rocks and the alternate ending where the boulder rolls down and crushes Indy at the end of the first set piece. And they we talked about how much that would improve a movie like the typical romantic comedy. Who doesn't want to see a boulder roll in from off camera and crush Kate Hudson? Or Jennifer Lopez? Or anybody who was ever on Gray's Anatomy? That could only improve movies, I think.

How long have I been awake?

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