And on to Chapter 2

Well, I went down the pub like a good doobie, and I wrote.

Yet, I did not work on The Guardian of Lost Kings. No, not at all.

I wrote something new. I wrote TWO CHAPTERS of something new.

Woops.

Yet, it came so freely, so fiercely. It told itself, through me rather than me telling. AND halfway through my new laptop decided, of its own fucking accord, to go ahead and do a reboot, update, clusterfuckage of my day and I was already three or four pages in. Yet, glory be to swaddling baby Jesus, it autosaved just before it dove into the trenches and resulted in my NOT stabbing it with the nearby butter knife I was armed with.

Good game, Laptop. Good game.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERASo now, having my usual need to be as accurate and honest with my writing as possible, I now know more than anyone who ISN’T a Lobster fisherman should about Lobster fishing. I know the Maine state laws on when and where you can haul, I know the different ways hauling can kill you, I know ways it can maim you, I know the sizes of the Lobsters that are legal, I know that traps have Parlors, Mid-parlors, and Kitchens, I know it’s illegal to even have a shell of an illegal sized lobster, and I know how many Lobstermen in total there were a few years ago.

I also know that my main character did a dramatic reading of 50 Shades of Grey for her Lobstering husband and soul mate after he bought her a copy of the book to entertain herself on those long days alone in Cape Split, Maine, and I know that despite the writing being utterly sub-par, that the dramatic reading in question got my main character laid like it was her job! Why? Because she’s hilarious and married to her soul mate.

It’s fun when the words just come. It’s fun when you’re discovering whole new characters, fully complete, already in your psyche somewhere, ready to be written onto the page.

Though, I’ll be honest… the husband and soul mate has come through in other incarnations in other novels I’ve written, but what can you do, eh? I channel what I know apparently, and somewhere in my psyche, I know him. Suuuweet!

Aaaaand, I just added the picture to the blog post with a serious sense of awe. That house is right near the family land I grew up spending my summers on. The house my main characters live in was a creation of my mind – so I thought. Looking at this house, I think I was channeling this. It’s for sale.

God damn it, I control the fucking Universe with my mind. Alright, good on you!

Here is an excerpt from the yet to be named novel by Caitlin Michaela “Iceberg Lettuce” Carrigan.

“Well, what the fuck are you doing, get over here so you can do this next time it needs to be done. Jesus, I’m not gonna be here babysitting all year, am I?”

Jackson hopped on board, muttering an apology. The two men worked for a few moments, trying to find out why the hauler was stalling out. When Les couldn’t find the problem, he pulled a wrench from his belt, leaned back, and smashed the fucker as hard as he could. The hauler leveled out and pulled clean. 

“Well that fucking did it, didn’t it?”

Jackson laughed. “Man, I wanted to do that so bad.”

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