Footloose and Fancy Free

Well, just finished the first draft of The Eternal Prison, Avery Cates #3. And, who knows, possibly Avery Cates Terminus, you know? I’m only contracted for 3 books, so future installments in that man’s slow descent into a violent and painful death (you know it’s inevitable) are, for the moment, theoretical. I have ideas, though.

Of course, first draft just means I’ve stopped writing for a few days while 2 or 3 trusted minions read it and deliver to me their comments. Then I take their comments, get drunk, and if I agree with anything I revise again before sending it on to my editor. That’s when the real nail-biting begins, because if I get a 33-page memo from her about what she doesn’t like about the manuscript, the drinking begins in earnest, baby.

Meanwhile, we just sold Italian rights for The Digital Plague, which means a slightly better chance that I’ll earn out the advance and not be kidnapped and held hostage by my Corporate Masters, locked in a crawlspace for weeks, living on pipe runoff and rat carcases while my wife struggles to raise the eleventy billion dollars they demand for my safe return. We’re huge in Italy! And thank god we’re huge somewhere.

And, as a random thought, I watched Frank Darabont’s The Mist last night. I’d read King’s story eons ago, and thought the film was very well done. The ending, which differs from the original, was a goddamn kick to the head though. I was flabbergasted. In a good way. If I’d been drunker I would have wept, but luckily I was somewhat sober.