We narrowly averted disaster last night, Crickets. I was steaming along in Knight of Shadows and went to save Chapter 11 so I could take a potty break. Unfortunately, I saved it as Chapter 10 and wiped all 9 pages I'd already written! My squawk of horror alarmed the cats, let me tell you. Thank God for back-up drives. After a few moments of panic and another moment of combing through my external F: drive, I found those 9 pages and brought them back. Whew! I did not want to go through Chapter 10 again. It was hard, and made me grind to a halt, and anyway, there were a few turns of phrase in there that I was pretty proud of. I'm so grateful for technology today!

Chapter 11 features an encounter with a certain High King and his loyal if adulterous knightly BFF. Yes, Tristan has met up with Arthur and Lancelot. I still haven't gotten to the meat and potatoes of the Tristan and Iseult myth, but hey, Tristan was a Knight of the Round Table, so he had to have met old Artie at some point, right? Now is as good a time as any, before he gets all distracted by Irish princesses and such.

Also, there is now a dragon in Ireland. Almost all of the chess pieces are in place.

The one thing that I'm not understanding (and trust me, even though I'm writing, I'm certainly not the one piloting this boat) is why Merlin seems intent on playing the part of Greek Chorus. Maybe he'll reveal his (always ulterior) motives in time.

Meanwhile, back to our Camelot-ish confab in Kaer Gradawc...

Good news, Crickets! Nightchild and Collected Poems are now both available as e-books on Lulu.com! Many, many thanks to my Guru of All Things Tech for making it happen so beautifully.

Another country heard from

I was driving to work this morning and passed a tennis shoe sitting in the middle of the lane on the highway. Immediately, a voice I've never heard before spoke in my brain. (Writing is like controlled schizophrenia - just go with it for a minute, Crickets.) She said, "The mother of the victim was cradling his shoe when I arrived on the scene." The speaker is a beat cop. She's a 30-something married mother of one. That's all I know, and I'm not pursuing it right now.

I rarely if ever write in the first person, and I'm certainly not going to start writing about Officer Whatzis right now. She bears no resemblance to a certain knight from Lyonesse, and he's got to have my attention right now. This may be filed under "projects that will never happen," along with several hundred other little mental jots and jiggles.

I know why my brain is doing this to me. I'm stalled with Knight of Sorrows because I'm relunctant to do the damage to my main characters that the plot requires. My brain, ever helpful, is supplying me with an out, like flashing tin foil in front of a bothersome magpie. "Ooh! Shiny!"

I will not be distracted by this little scrap of tin foil. I will, however, carry it back to my nest.

After long contemplation, Crickets, I believe that I know why I'm stalling so badly on getting Tristan in line with his legendary duties.

I like him.

If any of you know the legend, you know that it all ends rather badly for our boy. I like Tristan too much to see him suffering, and he's currently oblivious and perfectly happy to drift aimlessly through the countryside while I avoid sending him back to the beach to meet the Irish invasion.

I need to bite the bullet and just get this (sad, sad, sad) show on the road.

Wish me luck...

Oy.

Crickets, if any of you write, have you ever had a character who just refuses to do as he or she is told? It will surprise none of you to know that my head is chock full of them.

Naturally, the biggest offender is Tobyn from the Clans books. Even the other characters in the book just gape at him from time to time. He's walking chaos, so I shouldn't be shocked that he gives me fits.

Then there are characters like Marvin from "Headhunter", one of my short stories, who moved into my head like a disease. He made his nasty little self all comfortable until I finally exorcised him with the final paragraph of the story. I couldn't get him to mitigate his horrible behavior, and I couldn't make him stop being such a creeper. By the time I finished the story, I desperately wanted to apply some Lysol to my braincase.

Other characters have similar issues: they do their own thing, or they intrude into my "waking hours" (non-writing time) to whisper plot points into my ears, or they take left turns at Albuquerque when I wasn't even aware we were on Earth. They're bothersome little creatures.

I expected better from a so-called "perfect knight," fine upstanding prince of the realm and all-around good egg like Tristan. I keep trying to get him to stay put and keep his date with destiny, but like a willful puppy, he just keeps gamboling off every which way. I can make it work, I can, but I really wonder how long this book of mine is going to end up being by the time he finally goes through his legend-assigned paces. It's already 10 chapters long, roughly 98 pages or so...and I have yet to get him to his first mark.

Now, dear Crickets, I know that I'm technically in charge here, being the keyboard-bearing, thumb-wearing primate with the words, but I think someone forgot to tell my cast of thousands that this writing thing goes a lot easier if they just behave. I hope Tristan gets the memo.

I have a nasty feeling that he won't.