I just killed a bug. It's a kind I've only ever seen in the midwest. It's brown and at least an inch long and has way too more legs than anything ought to have. I've heard some people call them silverfish. Other people call them felt bugs. I've heard they eat other insects and don't bother people. I've heard they do bite people. I've tried to look them up in an insect book and didn't really get very far. They're common in old houses around here though.

I feel bad about killing it. It's not like I needed it for food. And it's not like I really believe it could hurt me. So I can't call it self-defense. I honestly think it was just a bug, running its usual trek accross my bedroom floor from the kitchen over the carpet to the dark and scary nether regions under my bed. I don't like taking life - even when it has way more legs than anything ought to. Growing up where I did, it's not like I never came face to face with death. The winter would leave carcasses along my hiking trails. On camping trips we'd go fish trout out of the lake for dinner (and hit them over the head till they died). And even when I'm out back pulling weeds, I'm aware that I'm cutting short life - something mysterious and amazing that science never will fully understand.

So anyway, to be aware of this death all around me, and yet to have it not overwhelm me (or underwhelm me, which frightened me much more) I've sort of adopted the practice of recognizing life for what it is, respecting it, and giving an explanation or apology for taking that life when I do. Not usually on a public web site, of course. It's usually kept just between me and the fish I just hit over the head and gutted for dinner.

But in this case, I have just killed a bug - for no reason other than the fact that it frightened me. I'm not going to go drawing parallells between this and terrorism, don't worry. I recognize how tacky and shallow that would be. I just feel that this bug deserves more than just to twitch out the last of its life on my bedroom carpet. So here's to you, bug. Whatever you are. I can't even name you or give you a proper place in the universe. I don't know what your life was all about, except running around my floors and walls really fast. I'm sorry I am of such a weak constitution that I can't share my space with you. I'm sorry I can't just explain to you that you're not welcome here, please go outside. This act of violence I just committed was meaningless and empty. You were alive. There was something magical and many things unknowable about you. You deserved better.

Sadly, if I see your brother run across my floor or up my wall I will commit the same act of senseless violence against him. At least you will not be lonely in bug paradise.

Day Job: Believe me. You'd rather read the above wacky essay about killing bugs than anything I have to say about work today.

Books: Where did I find time to get that fight scene re-written? I don't know, but it's better.

Day Job: Still there. But not really getting much done. It's late, I'm tired, and everyone on my staff is trying to convince ourselves that we're not coming down with something. There's a TON of work to do in just the next few days. When's my vacation?

Books: Well, I know what I need to do on all the chapters that need to be rewritten. It's just a matter of finding the time to rewrite them now. I forgot to mention that one of my characters dies. Gotta go back and add that in. Oops.

Day Job: Well, work got really frustrating today. Just when you think it can't get worse.... Of course it can always get worse. I do wonder why it all happens this time of year. Is there something in the air? The dog days of August make everyone crazy? What is going on? Everyone seems to be changing jobs. Maybe I should too.

Books: It's hard to write when I'm stressed and discouraged. Gotta find that zen place and then move on from there. Scuze me while I go find a map.

I didn't watch the President's speach tonight. I'm still at work, and I'm not going to use my precious CPU time on streaming video of that. One of my contacts in LA told me they were evacuating buildings there. Apparently someone important threatened that if the US retaliated millitarily in any way, they would blow up one of the major movie studios. Can you imagine how the nation would react if the terrorists hurt Julia Roberts? They're confident. They're cocky. They're mistaken about how angry we can get.

Day Job: TCOB a little bit today. Got some stuff done that was delayed by the events of last week. Realized only today that I completely forgot a thing I was supposed to do last Friday. Still in the fog a bit. We're all very busy here. Lots to do. Client's happy though, thank goodness.

Books: Working on another rewrite tonight when I get home. That's what I do in my free time.

Went to the gym tonight. Needed to do something with all the adrenaline built up throughout the day in that darn fight/flight response that never gets used in this modern world. I'm hoping to be much more zen about the whole work thing tomorrow. Life's too short. And as a good friend of mine once taught me - I just gotta line 'em up and knock 'em down. (The tasks, that is) And really TCOB. (Take Care Of Business).

It's another day tomorrow. It can be better than today.

Books: Must rewrite another chapter tonight. Sarah's going to kill me if I don't start giving her chapters soon. And she knows where I sleep.

-- Ah. Just sorta met Newton. Sarah's ex from Ireland. Now he knows I blog in my jammies.

Day Job: One of those days where I was juggeling six things all day, sending out a ton of e-mail and batting them back again when I didn't get the answers I wanted. And none of these e-mails or juggeling balls are with people on my own staff. Entirely stuff outside the group, running interference and generally doing the middle-management thing. Got to sit around and listen to a client yell at me. Had more fun with corporate wackiness in the finance department. And tomorrow I get to go do it all again.

Books: Got a rewrite done. That chapter will need another one, but it won't get it for a while.

Cats: I have no cats, and for that alone I am thankful.

Well, I guess I should respond to some of Sarah's comments. First about our neighborhood. You all have to understand something about Sarah. She is only just now realizing what we have done. She's been blissfully oblivious for over a year now. I have no idea what brought the realization home. We are urban pioneers Sarah. We have been for a year and a half, and we will continue to be until the house goes up in value enough that we can make a little money on our investment. The funny part is that in the last year our neighborhood has shown significant improvement. We have new sidewalks all down the street. This summer people actually mowed their lawns. The streets are MUCH quieter than they were last year. I see far fewer drug deals. And since several of us put up new fences, the drug dealers are no longer sitting right on our front steps. (Note to Sarah: Drug Lords don't live here. They can afford to live in much nicer houses than ours.) I am glad she got motivated to do something about the front garden-type-thing. I've only got enough motivation in me for the morning-glory-monster in the back yard now and then.

Now, about her experience at my church. I'm sorry the one comment at the end overshaddowed all the rest of the day for her. I heard a lot of interesting things to think about, and we were in exactly the same meetings. Those things weren't all expressed with the eloquence of a trained orator, but they were there. I guess I've had more practice listening for them. Our church is a group effort. Everyone participates. Absolutely everyone. That means our organist makes mistakes now and then. Our Communion is sometimes blessed by a man on crutches. Our speakers are earnest, but untrained. It's all organized, though, and runs smoothly each week. In spite of our human frailties. The experience can be a little uneven that way, but it has definitely taught me to be responsible for my own spiritual growth. I don't depend on a brilliant speaker - or even brilliant books - to feel inspired. I don't need pomp and circumstance to get a sense of the cosmic unknown. This is a gift I am deeply grateful for. I know how to prepare myself to touch the divine. So I feel I have a responsibility to participate in the community that has helped me learn to be spiritually mature. To throw my own human frailties into the mix, and hopefully help someone else feel inspired or comforted, or give them an example. That means putting all my weaknesses out there for everyone to see, and remembering to try to learn from everyone there. Even Sarah, fighting through her bitterness to some closure on this tragic week. So, Sarah, I hope it helped a little bit. I like your sense of commonality - the way you really feel exactly how disasters happen to the whole human family in a truly shared way, free of agendas. Thanks for broadening my view. (Let me know if that sounds pompous. That's not how it's intended.)

Well, it's late on a Saturday night (OK, technically it's Sunday morning already, as the date function on this thing is loudly proclaiming) and all I really feel like doing is going to sleep, but I felt I should post here. Why? Well, because I finished my book. The first draft of the last chapter has been written. There are no more chapters calling out to be put down on paper.

There are a heckuva lot of chapters calling out to be rewritten, some near the end before I can really go back to the beginning and go through it all again. But it's all there. My first novel, done. From here on out I can do it again and again and again. I'm finding methods that work for me. I'm finding a personal style. I'm finding my weaknesses. It's been a really interesting process. I'm so glad I've done it. Now I just have to push through to the end. Follow through and get it printed and bound. See where the adventure takes me.

Day Job: One note on this subject. I got some bad news on Friday. One of my staff members gave their two weeks' notice. After the roller coaster ride of emotions this week, it sort of hit me hard. I'm glad I've had the weekend to process through it before dealing with HR and etc. I'm OK about it now, but I wasn't then. I passive-agressively pushed a friend of mine to go to dinner with me after work so I could talk to somebody about it. That friend listened while I rambled, then helped me put the situation in perspective, then told me funny stories till I laughed. I never properly thanked this friend. I'm not good at that sometimes. So friend - you know who you are - thanks.

Back to blogging. Some friends came over yesterday and we all kept each other company while we watched the news and discussed. Sarah made cookies. Now you know why I bought a house with her. There's nothing like chocolate chip cookies and milk for comfort in uncertain times.

It's been a long day. It's hard to focus on work. But I'm tired of watching the news.

They've tightened up security in my building. It was already pretty good. One of the legacies of operating a newspaper during the roaring twenties in Chicago. During the night they did a sweep of the building with dogs and they're x-raying all packages that are delivered. Nobody order anything racey from amazon.com.

I'm still trying to get the last two chapters written. I got a letter from a concerned fan, wanting to know if I got my actress out of her trailer. Yes, I did. I showed her pictures of how handsom the other actor in her scene was, and reminded her that she only got paid when she was actually on the set. Apparently money motivates the fictional actresses who play the fictional characters in my head when I'm trying to write.

That statement alone will keep my therapist busy for weeks.

PS. I need to buy some action figures or something. They would be invaluable for blocking out fight scenes.

Hey, I got this one in nine seconds earlier than yesterday. That's an improvement.

II have to work at my Day Job tomorrow. If I don't, I'll miss a deadline that will cause a dominoe effect. Bad things will happen.

So tonight I'm trying to get some writing done. Unfortunately, one of my actresses has locked herself in her trailer and is refusing to come out. She's in every scene from here to the end of the book, too. I've been trying to coax her out tonight, but haven't succeeded much yet. She's sulking.

I just want to finish the book.

And get some laundry done.

Snuck this one in just under the wire, didn't I?
Day Job: Well. I spent part of my day capturing frames of video from half a seasons-worth of a certain TV show. Basically that means I watched every episode with the sound turned off in fast-forward. It makes me a little loopy. Tomorrow I get to resize and crop all of them. Woo.

Cats: They are saying this.... "We hate you. We don't trust you. You tricked us with that sneaky tuna-in-the-spare-room move. We'll foil your plans now! You'll never get the two of us in the same room again! Muahahaha! Now. Pet me."

Books: Well, my first-draft reader read the last several chapters last night. He said... "Great. I enjoyed the screenplay, now write the novel." Ok, so it's obvious I plowed through them and just wanted to get the action and dialogue down. Are you sure I can't say they're done? I haven't got any other chapters done this week. Hopefully I'll get part of one done in the morning and maybe some of the last few chapters tomorrow night and Saturday. A girl can have goals, right?

Day Job: One of those days where I was busy every minute but didn't get the first thing from my todo list done. I'm tired. Don't let anyone tell you writing isn't hard work. The weekend wore me down. Just the way you want to return from a three-day-weekend, right?

Cats: They're trying to decide if they should hate me for locking them in the guest room while I was at work today. It's really a hard decision to make since I'm also the one who gives them food.

Books: The end is in sight, dangit. Right there. Four chapters to go, and you want me to be witty? I just want to be done! My first-draft reader didn't get through all the first-drafts at our meeting tonight. We have to meet again tomorrow to discuss. That's actually a good thing, because not everyone will be reading this book all in one sitting. (I know Sarah, you will be. I'm reconciled to that.) So I'll be interested in what he remembers from the chapters he speed-read tonight and how the next ones flow. He liked the dream sequence. That's good. Dream sequences can be tricky.

Well, it's been a long, intense weekend. I re-read The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, translated from the French by Richard Howard. I love the author's name. I have no idea how to pronounce it, but it looks great. Very deep. It reminded me that good writing could be simple and still wonderful. And my favorite quote, of course, is this:

"Why do you speak in riddles?"
"I solve them all," said the snake.
And they were both silent.

I got a total of six chapters and two halves written this weekend. That doesn't add up to seven chapters because the two halves are not for the same chapter. It's two first-halves. I think I have to go to bed now, though. I'm pretty well exhausted.

Cats: They're still alive.

Well, I got the oil changed in my car today and I gave it a bath. Now there's a pet I can appreciate. I feed it once a week. It sleeps outside and never begs to come inside and mess up my house. It only complains for good reasons. And in return? I get to work every morning and can escape the city at will. I call it a healthy symbiosis.

Cats: I'm not optimistic about how long this can last. It's only been one day and I'm sick of them. I guess I'm not very good at giving affection on demand.

Garden: I picked a handful of beans today. Cool. There will be more, too. It also produced a pepsi can.

Books: Well, I finished up a few dangling rewrites and got one new chapter written. It's not exactly lightspeed, but it is progress. I hope the others go more quickly. They're not as complicated. Pretty straightforward action, really. We're into the home stretch.