Sophisticated Torture

Darin only looks like a mild-mannered software engineer. Uh, make that: extremely high-octane, loud, garrulous, effective software engineer who's a nice guy nonetheless.

It's all an act, folks: he's a sophisticated torturer.

Our friend Therese is sick, right? So Darin, who is trying to get into the cooking habit (because I've told him that once I'm off my diet I want to cook more at home) is making a huge batch of matzo ball soup for her. Right now he's making the chicken soup part of it.

I'm crying, it smells so good.

"You're making this for me when I can eat!" I yelled down to him. He cackled evilly.

Mitch came down last weekend to see the house and hang out with Darin. I'd write more about it, except I didn't see much of him: Friday and Saturday nights Darin and Mitch were at the Boys' playing computer games and D&D, and Sunday Harry came over here and the three of them played Network Diablo.

Mitch said he'll come down again at some point.

The other reason I didn't see Mitch much is that I've gotten a lot of writing done. I realized that in the past week I've written over 40 pages. (And backed them up, believe you me.) I've gotten to the end of Act II again, but I'm not as excited this time--I want to take it slow.

I got to the end of Act II and thought, Hmm, something is missing. The character has changed (one of the hallmarks of the end of Act II is the main character has completed his or her character arc, or change; Act III is all about whether it's a permanent change and whether they can put what they've learned into action).

I knew exactly what it was, of course: there's a scene I have avoided writing because it's a big, important scene and it was easier to write around it than wrestle with it the way I'm going to have to. Well, I have now learned that I have to wrestle with it here, now, on the floor, because it intrinsically affects the 30 pages that follow it that I've already written, not to mention the 15-20 pages of Act III that are coming up.

So I'm not going to hand in any pages this week. I'm going to write The Scene (for those of you that know this horrible, arcane 3 Act terminology: the Midpoint) and then go over the pages that follow with a fine toothed comb.

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

I lost 2.4 pounds last week. I'd be kind of bummed out about it, except Laura tells me (via Rob) that 2.4 is extremely good during that time, when you're bloated and retaining the Dead Sea. Which I am right now.