The First of the Last

July 2, 2020 at 1:48 in the morning. According my best friend and arch nemesis, Microsoft Word, that is when I wrote the first sentence of the first chapter of my current endeavor, a novel called Three Witches. Today, October 17, 2020 at 3:27 in the afternoon I wrote the first word of the final chapter. If all goes well I’ll finish the book today.

I will be the first to admit that stopping after one sentence of the final chapter to write a blog post about doing that seems counter-intuitive. I mean, maybe just keep writing the damn book?

It’s a legitimate question. Okay, here’s the equation. Before I could write the first nineteen words of chapter 25, I had to finish the final 3500 of chapter 24. That’s pretty nearly a full day’s work for me. The very best days see me pass 4k. So to have already done one full chapter would normally be enough.

I’d be drained and ready to watch TV, or continue listening to this insane daily playlist on Spotify, which is currently playing “I Need You” from Skynyrd’s second album, almost rendering me unable to write these words is so damn good. Just sitting here bathing in tunes would have been a just reward. Maybe a glass of cider. Maybe I’ll kill those sea salt dark chocolates my wife got for me.

But this was the penultimate chapter, and that carries with it a drug all its own. The end is in sight! It’s almost time to write the two most unnecessary words in all of literature: The End. [Ed. Note: at this point he went on a rant about how the fact that there were no more words in the book makes the related fact that the end has been reached self evident. I believe he said something about someone smart enough to finish a four hundred page book will be smart enough to know it’s over. Anyway, he went on for 3000 more words. I condensed. You’re welcome.] I am being completely honest when I say the main reason I type The End is so that I can take a picture to post on the shosh meed. Hey – did they just edit out my whole rant? Son of a…

Sigh. Alright, let’s just move on. The point is when you get this close you get toddler energy. Every parent in history, or at least history since we started bottling shit, has said, “If I could bottle little Enrique’s energy, I’d be a baZILLIONAIRE!” They always put that little “ba” at the beginning. For anyone who has not had children I will interpret the actual meaning of that statement. In the standard tongue it means, “I am just about to punt this child out the window.” [Ed. Note: As far as anyone knows he never punted either of his children out of a window. Allegedly at best. Out of an alleged window.]

I may be digressing yet again. The point this time is that like a toddler, (Motto: I am Human Crack), when an author gets this close to the end he has extra, unaccountable, probably ill-gotten energy. And he wants to keep going. But he just finished a chapter and his brain is looking, feeling, and, delightfully, smelling like the fried egg in the old “This is your brain on drugs” commercial, only like it looked on Take 27. As a point of reference the finished commercial used Take 2.

Now the writer, presumably, cares about the book he is almost finished writing. Therefore the tiny bit of his brain that is still functioning may recognize that he should probably not write the final chapter at this time. After all, I – er – he rather – cares about the book as a whole. Why tank it now? Hold off.

This is my webcam, live. Now.
Kidding. This is stock footage of me.

Okay, great. Good call! That tiny functioning nugget of brain came through with flying colors. But now what do I do with all of this energy?

Well, don’t be offended, but I can write a blog post with only that tiny Swedish meatball sized brain remnant. The stakes are a little lower, honestly. I mean, can I really do anything more to damage my career and reputation within the confines of this blog than I already have? I’ve written a lot of posts. Certainly at least most of them should be sufficient to sabotage any writing career.

Whereas ruining an entire book by sticking with a final chapter composed solely of the word “fluttherflippy,” repeated four thousand times just seems like such a waste.

So yeah. Blog post it is. The good news is that the brain, thanks to the aforementioned apple cider and chocolate, has been regenerating all along. There’s at least a passing chance that it will reknit sufficiently to bring this turd home tonight.

Let’s do a little housekeeping.

Jelly Jars

The official release of Jelly Jars is rushing toward us like an angry freight train, (actual date will be revealed soon), and a small group of beta readers has been sequestered in an undisclosed location, (although the card they sent me was postmarked in Sheboygan). The audiobook is very near to completion, except for mastering and transferring to one of those old Edison wax cylinders for some reason. I have been assured by Northern Lake Audio that this is very cutting edge, and the execs at Audiobooks Unleashed all nodded earnestly, so I guess it’s legit. What the hell do I know? I’m all hopped up on cider and chocolate.

But anyway keep checking here, or on all the other sosh meed outlets, especially the Facebook Group, which I stalk almost pathologically because everyone who hangs out there is crazy (aka My People), for details on when you can GET YOUR COPY.

Blog of Note

Just one for you to check out this time.

Aven Shore, audiobook narrator, friend, and fellow blogger needs your attention now. The link is to her blog but also be sure to check out her samples here.


Back to that last chapter…

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