Following the deficit from yesterday, I revisited the two page synopsis first thing this morning. Nothing like writing deferred. A few plot points obsoleted themselves in the last month, so they were stricken. One point needed to be added. Continuity gaps between the manuscript and synopsis happen when I neglect a review for too long. I also caught several occurrences of a horrible character name, intended entirely as a placeholder – like the Working Title above the word count meter — until a proper one revealed itself. Only that baptism was two months back and still, there the name was in black and white…Diego Sterling. Oh, the horror.

After the synopsis, an idea hit me for a very small scene, which wrote itself quickly and in what I believe is the correct spot. Freewheeling like that is a rarity on this project, usually a lot more anguish and brainstorming drives this bus.

Then I wrote two pseudo-pages. Those who program might recognize a similar term, pseudo-code, which is where I nicked the idea. Pseudo-code are snippets that probably won’t compile, but demonstrate the basic flow structure of a script or module. Pseudo-pages are the same idea, just written in English ( or whatever language desired ). They are scattered, resemble mental scribbles, and sort of make sense to the author but not very much to a casual observer. I wanted to be clear on the last 15-20 pages and aware of the loose ends that need tying. The exercise forced both.

It looks like the ending will answer all but three points: one major, two minor. The big point everyone will notice, well, if I do the deed right, everyone will. The minor ones are more subtle. Not that the Easter eggs are for me, I’d just like more than one way into the next episode.

Then the real writing started. Once I caught sight of the finish line, that went pretty well. Another handy benefit of the pseudo-pages.

Stephen King makes a great point about the career longevity writers enjoy versus other entertainers. Even as late in life as forty, some writers are coming into their own. A rock star at forty is on an endless summer tour with a greatest hits album in the bargain bin. Movie stars disappear by forty, trading the screen for a stage, and eventually voice-over gigs. Comics have a longer shelf-life than actors, especially when they also produce or direct, but it’s nothing compared to a writer. Here’s a few examples:

Tom Clancy (58) sells nearly a million copies in hardcover each fiction outing. Robert Parker (73) makes top five on the New York Times Bestseller lists and tours. Stephen King (58) doesn’t sell like the glory days, yet only J.K. Rowling has more in print. Clive Cussler (74) sells better now than fifteen years ago. Thomas Harris (65), the author of Silence of the Lambs, published his first book at 35.

By the way, I’m 32 and my birthday isn’t for months. This isn’t a middle age reflection post, just an observation.

Eight hundred words today. Aimed for a thousand, so it was a Viking try. The real failure was not completing the scene. I’ll have to make that up in the morning.

On the plus side, I got some nice feedback on a few chapters that involve the villain, ballistics and weapons from a competitive IPSC shooter. Suffice to say, he’s very good with handguns. I would cull a law enforcement source for this information, but frankly, the average IPSC competitor fires a lot more rounds per year. In fact, quite a few members of various alphabet agencies shoot IPSC for the challenge.