Dear internet,
I'm sorry it's been so long since we've spoken. I'm still alive; I promise.
Let's start with what I've been doing on "Darkly." It is now in its 18th (long) chapter, but that number is sure to change with editing. What is important, is that I'm sitting at--approximately--fifteen thousand words left in the book. In a pinch, I could write that in a few good afternoons. I'm not in a pinch. I'm totally and completely dedicated to this book and its completion. I do have an ideal timetable, but I'm not exactly broadcasting it at the moment (at least not in print). If writing a novel has taught me one thing, it's that life happens. I had hoped to be finished the book months ago, but until you are a published and successful writer--something needs to pay the bills.
Marley and friends are currently perched on the cusp of a dangerous mission to secure transportation across a pod-infested (like a zombie, but smarter and faster) Philadelphia. They travel with the jolly, but mysterious Father Unzo Votchenko. His past is foggy, but his heart is pure. I can't wait to finish the chapter!
I have something important to say. If you (the royal you) don't want to offend someone, please--for the love of all that is holy--don't call them buddy. I understand that calling kids bud is one thing. They're young, it's endearing, and they don't really have a choice in the matter. I'm writing this blog post in a park (WiFi tethering is a wonderful thing), and the park manager rode by on her all terrain golf cart and informed me that the park would be closing in an hour--but here's how she said it. "Hey buddy, just to let you know the park is closing in an hour so you'll need to start getting packed up."
First of all, I don't need an hour to pack my things. I have a laptop and a cell phone visible; I'm not eating a picnic for one. Secondly, I'm a grown-ass man. I understand that I may look young, but anyone who looks to be over sixteen should not be called buddy. I know that some people may like that, but to me it's the fastest way to get a smart-ass response out of me with little care for common manners. I grimaced and rolled my eyes as I leaked, "Thanks, champ (dripping with as much sarcasm as I could muster)."
I appreciate you reading this blog. It means a lot that anyone beside me would like or be interested in the book. It blows my mind that people would actually care about its production. To anyone still reading this, I want to thank you from the bottom of my anatomical heart; my ventricles appreciate the support.
I promise to update again soon, maybe.
Hugs'N Kisses,
Greg
