The Light at the End of the World is done.

It's twenty-four chapters of surprises, unruly characters, and not a single happy ending. I didn't expect things to end quite the way they did. I'm not certain how I feel about it, either.

I've got so much character blood on my hands tonight that I feel like a serial killer. Yeesh.

Bugger.

What part of "I have to finish LEW and KOS" sounds like "Please, new characters, come and start telling me a new story"? Idiot cast of thousands, they never let me get anything done around here....

Talking to my imaginary friends

Pardon me, Crickets, while I see to a few points of order with a few representatives of my cast of thousands.

Arthur and Tristan, thank you for coming to the point and helping get me back on track. Chapter 12 can now happen. Furthermore, Arthur, my darling boy, this little introduction to your unique personage and relationships has planted the seed for just what I didn't need - another God damned book. So, no thanks. But thanks. Er... yeah. That. And as a side note: Lance, since when are you such a douche bag? Really, now. You're surprising me. Maybe you and Tristan just didn't hit it off well? Or maybe it was like Arthur said, and you're just protective and don't understand this political stuff. I don't know, but you'd better shape up, buddy. I'd hate to dislike you. You're supposed to be a flawed hero. Heroes aren't normally jerks (Tobyn notwithstanding).

And here endeth the letter to the people in my head.

Yes, Crickets, work on Knight of Sorrows continues apace. Now it's going to be one awkward conversation in Tintagel (or Aravon), then onward to the legend. Appropriately enough, I think the legend will be properly rejoined in Chapter 13, a suitably ill-starred number to associate with the moment when an ill-starred young man encounters his fate.

Fasten your seatbelts, Crickets. It's all high-speed from here.

Real people can be hugely annoying.

Imaginary people can sometimes be so much worse.

Tristan, meet Arthur. Arthur, meet Tristan. Would one of you overly-polite chaps kindly get to the freaking point?? Oh, hi, Lancelot. Hi, Merlin. You fellows can just... keep doing whatever it is you're doing over there in that corner while these two yammer about politics.

Gentlemen, really. I'm shaking my spear. Can you not see me shaking my spear?

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...

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.