...Beyond Done!

---and off to my good old agent for a good old reading and some good old-fashioned criticism.

Yay!





I even read a book---a mid-grade from the bygone years of Inkheart and Fforde and characters turning into real people*  The mid-grade wasn't very good, but I read it with joy, joy I tell you----because I. Finished. My. Book..





__________
*Writers everywhere want to talk to Marianne Dashwood, apparenly.

Beyond happy.....

...that the book is turning out so well, but ARRRRRGH!

Where o where does the time go?

The Lab Dogs

Pepper, the lab's scrapyard dog, stomped over and waited as Harrison spread out the newspaper. Front page. Arts and Entertainment. Business. Sports. Pep muscled Harrison aside and lay down on Sports. Petey, the ex-service dog, took the obituaries. Both dogs scratched and yawned and scratched some more.

Sidney, on the other hand,  glanced at the headlines, then made a beeline for the crossword puzzle. As the little white dog settled down on the lobby floor to wrestle with two down: a motorist caught in the crossfire, Harrison stood, half-asleep, staring out the window, scratching and yawning and scratching some more.

“His lips are moving.”

Harrison jumped a million miles. An unfamiliar researcher was staring at Sidney. “Sprawled like that with his lips moving. The dog looks like he’s reading the newspaper. Is that what you boys over in the Dog Wing are working on? Stupid pet tricks?”

Harrison shrugged. “His lips are moving because he’s chewing gum. Strengthens his jaw and tongue. Helps with enunciation.” Harrison grinned a little. The gum had been his idea. Which Dr. Stone thought was completely cool.

Petey and Pepper got up to sniff hello. “What the heck are these two? A dog-faced Dr. Jekyll and his canine Mr. Hyde.” The researcher bent and pushed her fingers through the fur at the back of Sidney’s neck, looking for his ID tattoo. “So. You got Number 56 ‘reading’ the newspaper?”

Harrison was surprised by her sloppy analysis. “Um. He’s more doing the crossword than reading the newspaper.”

The researcher stood up. Adrianne Goldmancha, Project RabBit read her name tag. Oh, right. The new researcher. Hired to straighten out some problems on the Bunny Side, Dr. Stone had told him. All very hush-hush and serious. If you run into her, Harrison, be sure to help her out.

Dr. Goldmancha crossed her arms. “Dogs don’t do crosswords. And why are you letting him use a pen?”

Sidney sneezed. Nose drops fell all over fourteen across: sounder of the tuning note at an orchestra rehearsal.

“Sorry,” Harrison said. He scooped up the Entertainment and Business sections. “We always put the paper back the way we found it. Maybe a little dog snot here and there.”

He glared at Sidney. “You’re making a bad impression.”

Sidney put a paw protectively over the comics. Pepper rushed over and growled at the humans.

Dr. Goldmancha crossed her arms harder. “What’s the rush, kid? The dogs aren’t done with the funnies yet.”

“We’ll stash ‘em for later. Petey’s due in the lab, Pepper’s got time-trials all afternoon, and Sidney’s supposed to be working on his book report.”

“Pft. Pen all over the crossword; the comics section missing. So much for putting the paper back the way you found it, kid.” Dr. Goldmancha strode off.

The Lab Dogs

Four genetically-modified dogs—spliced with super-duper genes and enhanced the same way eight-year-olds are enhanced by going to third grade—barked for breakfast. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Harrison as he pushed the breakfast cart full of dog kibble and water bowls down the aisle. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You can shut up now.”

            But the dogs never did. Harrison went from pen to pen feeding, watering, unlocking dog flaps and scritching behind ears—until he got to the end of the kennel. Sidney, the last dog in the kennel, a funny-looking little white dog who looked exactly like every other funny-looking little white dog on the planet, sat proudly on one hip in the middle of the corridor. The door to his cage swung open beside him.

            “Crap. Little Mo taught you how to pick locks, didn’t she? Look. Just don’t take your GPS collar off, okay? You’ll get me in trouble with Dr. Stone.”

            Sidney wagged his tail. “i like m’collar. it is preity.”

            Harrison snorted. He opened the door into the next hallway and pushed the kibble cart through. “You coming?”

            Sidney looked at him sadly.

            “What?” said Harrison, even though he knew what.

            The dog put his head on his paws.

            “Okay, fine.” Harrison patted his knee and quoted, “Here, boy!”

            Sidney wiggled just a little, but he didn’t come.

            “Maybe it’s a she-dog,” continued Harrison. “Here, girl! But the dog don’t come.”

            Sidney moaned with anticipation.

            Harrison grinned. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.

            “it is like pressing a magic button,” yodeled Sidney as he galloped up. “legs going lickety-split. now yu say it, now yu say the words!”

            “Hey boy,” quoted Harrison. “You’re really somethin’ now, ain’t you?” He reached down and scritched Sidney’s ears. “Okay. That’s enough of that dumb book. If you promise not to slobber up my hand, I’ll let you ride on top.”

            Sidney barked happily. “he names me shiloh and i get to ride on the bikkle cart!”

            “Kibble. Kib-ble. You gotta work on your soft vowels.”

            “becos they are very hard,” agreed Sidney. “kriddle cart.”

The Lab Dogs

In the dark before the dawn, Harrison Gipps unlocked the door into Kennel Number Three. He poked his head past the threshold and peered into the gloom.

“Man. Who smells so bad?” He turned on the lights. “Like I don’t already know.”

Little Mo rolled over in her dog bed and squinted through the bars at him. The beagle-dachshund had picked the extra-strength lock on her doggie door again, and spent last night galloping around Green Wolf Pharma’s exercise park. Now she lay, grimy with dirt and mouse guts, farting gently into her blankets. Harrison sighed. He went into the janitor’s closet and came out pushing the kibble cart, a shovel clamped under his armpit. “All right, Mo. Hand ‘em over.”

The beaga-dachs growled at him. Harrison ignored that. He booted Mo off her blankets and poked the shovel at suspicious lumps and bumps hidden everywhere.

“Busy night, huh?” Harrison uncovered the gristly bits of several field mice. He scooped up a smeary shovelful and slid them into a plastic bag. The second shovelful hit something that clanked. Harrison bent down and fished out Little Mo’s rhinestone GPS collar.

“You gotta stop taking off your GPS signal,” he scolded as he buckled the collar around Little Mo’s neck. “You’re skewing the test results. And if you lose it, there’s gonna be heck to pay. Promise me you won’t take it off anymore.”

Mo looked up with her big, brown eyes and batted her genetically-modified eyelashes. “Fine,” muttered Harrison. “And I’m sorry I yelled.”

He scritched Little Mo behind her ears. The dog grunted with pleasure. She curled up in her blankets and went back to sleep. Harrison left her a bowl of fresh water and a snack of kibble when she woke that afternoon. He examined the lock on her dog flap that led outside.

“Jeez. So now you’re locking back up after you’re inside? Show off.”

Harrison unlocked the flap and stuck his head outside. The exercise park looked peaceful in the early morning light. A little mist rose from the creek meandering the fence line and hung in the branches of the hundred-year-old oak trees lining the hills. Five acres of tall grass dripped with cobwebs and dew. Birds sang and twittered in the brambles along the climbing paths. One of the lab dogs had left a red rubber ball near the digging holes. It lay there, pink and round and tooth-pocked, shining with dog-slobber and contentment.

Landing Safely III

Nargheen thought the writer wasn't coming back---but he was wrong. The writer was back after months and months of heartbreak and hope to finish. the. damned. book.

I entered the dark and ruined building. Slowly, I looked over the moonlit night, the burnt-out secret laboratory, the little white dog in peril, the exciting climax ready to explode. I re-read every paragraph left exactly the way I had written it.....except for a persistent thump-thump thumpity-tump going on in the corridor above my head.

"What the heck," I murmured, "is that sound?"

I listened for a moment. Then I climbed the stairs---and ducked as a football whizzed past my head. "Watch it," called a voice out of the shadows. "You're going to ruin your eyes, reading in this light."

"Who're you talking to, the cops?" Adrianne poked her head out of the morgue.

"Nah. The writer's back," said Harrison. Adrianne whipped the cigarette out of her mouth.

"Too late," I said. "I saw that."

She stubbed out her cigarette. "Hey, Nargheen, the writer's back. You owe me fifty cyber bucks."

"Yeah I don't believ---whoa, she is back."

Adrianne smirked.

I put my hands on my hips. "Smoking, football, Car and Driver." The little white dog trotted past me, dragging the football in his mouth. "And aren't you supposed to be stretched out silent and still beneath the sheet on the stainless steel table?"

The dog spit out the football. Nargheen tossed his magazine in the trash. Harrison dusted off the kibble cart. I clapped my hands. "Okay, everybody. Places. This is gonna be a rewrite, straight from the top. The scene starts---"

"---in the dark before the dawn," chorused the characters as they drifted off to Chapter One.

"In the dark," I murmured happily. "In the dark before the dawn, Harrison Gipps unlocked the door into Kennel Number Three. He poked his head past the threshold and peered into the gloom."

"Jeez,Who smells so bad?" Harrison turned on the lights. "Like I don't already know.'"

Landing Safely II

Nargheen turned a page. "See? I told you. A week later and we got nothing. She's not coming back."

Adrianne hopped up  on the stainless steel table and swung her legs. "Of course she's coming back. Have you ever known her to not. finish. the. book?"

"She even finished the crummy ones. Thousands of pages of bad writing and weird plot lines." Nargheen turned another page. "She finished them all. So I'll give her that."

Harrison hopped up next to Adrianne. "This isn't a crummy book. This is her best one yet."


"Yeah kid, she says that to all her protagonists." Nargheen pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his leather jacket and offered one to Adrianne.

"Lemme have one, " said Harrison.

Adrianne blew a couple of smoke rings. "No. You'll stunt your character growth."