Topher Lydon

Wil's latest music project, Wil on the left

she said there is five components to a great outline. 1. character moment - get a good scene at least one, with the characters shining. Being natural, normal, themselves. 2. Challenge them - give them a puzzle to solve, something that shakes them up and gets them to knock their comfortable dust off. 3. Chase - chase them, or have them chase something. Build excitement. 4. Climax - there needs to be passion, a fight, an argument, gun play... storm... some kind of big bang moment. 5. Solve it - have them come to a natural conclusion, solve their problems, resolve their issues, satisfy the audience's investment. Mix them up a bit, shuffle them around, and you have your story. Keep It Simple, and you will get there. Oh and ask the most important three questions: What's the main idea, why is it important, and why should we (the reader) care?

See, Jimmy got his Wil in the end... or always kinda had his Wil all along... or... well you know... That guy still drives me nuts. We may never have been able to make it work in the same place at the same time for long, as i said we drift on the tide. But Wil knows, and I know... Love's more than just what's expected.

Nineteen So, Vampires. What, you don’t think everything was darkness, right? Adjusts his tie, Ryan, Marty, and Jimmy’s long-standing friends would never allow that. Come on, give those wonderful people some credit. We’re approaching the Summer of Andrews… and that… that was a chaotic mess of four very different personalities that shared a name. I am banned from dating Andrews after that summer. If I open my mouth and say that name, I am fairly sure that either Ryan, Ben,

It might be a test for Kate as well as Hugo. Hugo resisted the temptation, and even Thomas our resident Devil incarnate, worries about Hugo's soul. Kate has no such guardian... devil... oh my...

It's a very Tao-ist thing to do.

vs paper cup wins

Yeah but... in this world there's one, it's short, a whole two meters... tucked in back behind the depanneur... you know... it's Hull, there *could* be an emankment in the middle of the city for all the lovely, weird and eccentric Frenchmen there... they put it there just to mess with you Anglais

Hugo doing what Hugo does best, just loving people

"Hello Billy." I never expected two random words at the end of a chapter to... well, you will see

I... wake... up... yes

Kulai City – Æuum – Bravo Site – November 7th The air in Kulai City was a thick, humid blanket of sensation. It pressed in from all sides, carrying the scent of exotic spices, street food sizzling, and the sweet perfume of alien flowers. The city was alive, a chaotic symphony of noise and light, a river of life that flowed around Wojciech and the Bride. The thrum of mag-levs, rikshaws and the distant metallic rum

for that I will now add ten chapters of filler where Hugo and Stoker play checkers.

a Paradox Lost, perhaps?

You would think, yes... so what *IS* it doing there I wonder?

I give you my word, things get better from here. Wil is doing his job, and Jimmy will benefit from the more open and honest love between them.

Eighteen I have to admit this is getting harder and harder with each chapter. I am desperately trying to protect myself, but I want to keep going. Nothing quite like going to war with yourself over your own pain. I guess this is how one becomes conflicted… As writers know, we’re all a bit nuts. Characters often speak with their own voices, and hijack plots and take even me, the writer, for a ride. Imagine sitting in a room with one of your characters staring at you, and that cha

I want to say "Too late"

hope that starts to answer some questions :: smiles :: and welcome to the meta plot. A long chapter, I know, was going to be separate chapters but I needed the flow to work, and this was the best way.

STOKER AIN'T BAIT

Outside Washington D.C. -1993 – December 9th The low winter sun, a pale, anemic disk in a sky, cast long, distorted shadows across the rifle range. The air was a crisp, biting cold, a clean, sharp scent of gunpowder and frozen earth that bit at the nose and made the breath plume like twin white ghosts in the stillness. Henry stood, a silent, solitary figure, his heavy flannel coat a somber island of warmth in the vast, indifferent landscape. The wind,

shhhhhhhhhhhhhh don't give 'em ideas...

Never, that one's 100% Sprog-smitten. Team WestxPeter till I die

This is becoming a book, I never intended this. This was just a project to allow me to process past trauma that defined who I am. What made me, what I was who I was, and who I would become. The early 2000s. I was there in Ottawa on Y2K, shivering in the crisp night air as the countdown malfunctioned and the giant clock on Parliament Hill flickered and died. A profound silence fell over the crowd as we all held our breaths, wondering if that was it. The world seemed to pause for a second, bu