A Late Post

I woke at 6:30 from a rather disturbing dream about a drunk co-actor. I almost went back to sleep since comapany was here last night and I didn't fall asleep until after 1:00. But I pushed through it and found Pop making omlettes. I can't focus well enough to say everything I did. I'll have to put it later.
This is something I jotted on my 45 minute lunch break.

Lunch break with the Characters
I’ve got water boiling for tea that Jonathan would approve of and I’m heating beans to put on the salad. Yeah, I eat beans on my salad. Lance can stop looking horrified.
Kent is still teasing me over my battle not to give in to curiosity and waste $20.00’s and hour of time to see how in the world someone wrote a “Phantom of the Opera” video game. Somehow, he misses the glower of Erik who’s sitting silently in the corner. Erik hasn’t been around as much the last few years. Now he just blends in with the Sentarrian masters who are also fond of black cloaks and manipulation. Poor Tehvoer’s looking ill.
I’m contemplating the chances of getting up at 5:00 to have the maximum hours of uninterupted quiet. I’m not sure I can do it.
Andrew shrugs, muttering, “I do it. And I work in a factory all day.”
“Only for a while,” I defend.
“I do it too,” Karl, of course, jumps at a chance for arguing.
“Well, that’s…”
I glance around the room. Come to think of it, Kael’s usually up before dawn. Darshon gets up just before sunrise – which here is closer to 7:00 – and Erik has such weird hours, he doesn’t know when it’s night or day – and probably doesn’t care.
Tehveor, however, probably gets up and sleeps less than all of us put together – though he doesn’t say anything about it. Tehveor is very protective of his secrets – unlike some of my characters who can’t help but sob their stories.
Jonathan ducks and Karl just glares and tells me that’s my fault for writing him at 2:00 AM when I’m over-emotional.
It’s probably true so I don’t argue.
Jonathan makes no defense and Darshon smirks.
“Oh come on. I have to have SOME character that’s not up till the crack of dawn…”
I glance around the room. “Don’t I?” I have very industrious characters….
But from the back, Erik’s hand goes lazily up. I breathe a sigh of relief.
I feel better.
Kent has my Oz script and is making a mockery of the charecters, while Karl teases he’d make a great cowardly lion. Darshon’s smirking again. He is continually intrigued that when I stop writing and return to “real life” – I spend my evenings racing across a stage, talking to green yarn that’s serving as a fill-in for “Toto”, surrounded by painted scenes and other people who are pretending to be lions and monkeys and tin-men and talking scarecrows. Though yesterday half the cast was missing, so I was left talking to imaginary people for nearly the entire first act.
Afterwards, they said I was really good at it and I looked like I could really see them.
I can’t imagine why anyone would thinkI was good at talking to imaginary people…
Yesterday I left Jonathan so distressed meeting his future father-in-law, I thought I might try to draw on those emotions for the scene in the witch’s castle. After all, Jonathan is the character with the most luck that he would be the one to get dragged off by flying monkey’s and end up in a witch’s castle, even if he does live in modern-day America. Last night though, it didn’t work and I was closer to summing tears by staying Dorothy – even if the real Andrew says she’s a brat.
She’s not really a brat. She’s just bored.
Darshon and Karl understand.
In the meantime, Charles and Gabby are encouraging me to finish that salad. Charles says I’m restless and looking like Lance.
He no sooner says his son’s name, than Lance pop’s into the room, glancing around a mile a minute. I ask how Val’s doing and he says she’s studying all the time. He shudders, thinking of the books, while Andrew looks wistful like he’s really wishing he could go back to school.
Erik starts figiting, now that his brother is here. He’s glancing around the room, checking for all breakable objects and buttons that shouldn’t be pushed. You know, like fire alarms and emergincy exits.
Kael thinks both of those ideas are really good ones and should be implimented at once into the castle. Galaphy just glares. He’d probably figure out a way to trap people in the exits and make fire come from the spriklers.
Oh. I shouldn’t have said that. Erik’s perking up in the corner, glancing with intrigue at the man.
I’ll have to send someone over to remind Erik that he really doesn’t want to be bad…
Nobody volunteers so I summon Stephen and assign the poor man to the task – and set Karl as a bodyguard, temperarly relieving him of a bad heart – though I’m not even sure that combonation is a good one. Perhaps I should inquire about barrowing Felix from Jess, but Diana sends me a rather feirce glare.
Now I’m nearly finished with my salad. Charles is gently reminding me that I need to stay focused on my work. Darshon’s complaining about the line of books that I’ve put before the second “Secret of Sentarra” – though I think he really just doesn’t like being ignored.