When Characters Think They Know Better...

Psssst. Uh, hi everyone. This is Jayna. I um, probably shouldn't be telling you all this, but, well, I'm feeling a bit guilty and I need to confess to someone. And you guys all know what's been happening with Quint's book anyways, so it might as well be you, right? Yeah, so, Amelie's been complaining that she can't get Quint doing anything, that she can't seem to move him forward, and therefore can't get the story moving. She's got this whole theory about how he doesn't want anything to change and stuff. It's a good theory. Really. But let's face it: Quint isn't the 'look away and hope someone else handles it' type. If something needs to be done, even if he doesn't like it, he does it. He wants to get out of this situation he's in so he can get back to us where he feels the real danger is going to present itself.

In case you haven't figured it out already, the reason his story is dragging tail is my fault. Just mine. I thought I was doing really great with getting over my aversion to violence. I don't freeze up anymore, I can actually contribute in a fight, and I don't even spend the hour after a fight battling the shakes. Yay me. And then Amelie put Quint in this ridiculous situation where he keeps getting captured and tortured and then released and then captured again, and... you get the picture. I can't stand it!!!! I was completely unable to save myself when I was younger and now I can' t save him either! Right now his situation is okay. He's healing up, thinks he's free and isn't being physically tortured. I don't want to watch him get captured and put under the knife again. So every time Amelie sits down to figure out what to do to him next and how to progress him to the next point, I've been sending her these tempting thoughts about her SciFi novel. I think I really ought to apologize to Loranya too, while I'm at it, because I think Amelie is taking her frustration with Quint out on Lora. Poor Lora is getting in some really tight jams. Oh, geeze. There Amelie goes with poisoning Lora. Sorry, girlfriend.

Yeah, so, um confession is good for the soul, right? Even a fictional soul? I guess I've got to let Amelie get on with Quint's story soon, and just trust that things will work out okay. I just want him to be able to relax a little bit longer. Then I'll ease off. Maybe.

Minor Miscalculation

So, uh, Amelie is a bit tweaked that I ranted on her blog. Obviously, Quint here again. *tries to shift to a more comfortable position* Shit, this hurts. *breathes through the pain* Amelie wrote the next part of my novel. Wish she hadn't. I really don't think the human body is meant to take this much damage and still function. I told Amelie this somewhere mid-way through the torture session the "baddies," as she calls them, put me through. What kind of sissie name is that? These guys obviously mean business. I'm going to have the scars to prove it, so it really chaps that she insists on calling them "the baddies". It's not even in all CAPS in her head either. Geez. *grunts and reminds himself once again not to move.* 

Anyways, when I complained about the revenge she was taking on my poor abused body, she says, "Oh, don't worry. My sister is a vet. I'll talk to her and make sure it'll all work together. Although, that steel rod through your lung might have to go. Hmmm."

WTF?!?!?!? Besides my issues with being thought of as an animal and the fact that it's an entirely different knowledge base to be a vet as opposed to a people doctor, let's clarify something else. *hisses in a breath and moves arm so it's not resting against the skinned area or one of the bullet wounds* Her sister is not a vet. She's studying to be a vet. Not the same thing. 

So Amelie says, "If you're going to be fussy about it, I suppose I could call my uncle and ask him. He's a surgeon. Although he might do plastic surgery. I can't remember. But he's real smart. I'm sure he could make a fair guess as to whether you could in fact get up and hike thirty-six miles out of the wilderness to civilization in your condition. Don't forget to stay hydrated, btw. I guess I'll have to drop a river or a creek in here somewhere." 

I would bang my head against this rock if I didn't already have a concussion from three different blows to the head. Gah.

Anyways, now we all know my condition. Progress, right? But, uh, I don't think I'll be commandeering Amelie's blog again anytime soon. *freezes as he hears a noise above and looks up see a leopard stalking down the branch above him* Hey, uh, Amelie,  I don't think leopards are supposed to live in this part of the world. Really. And uh, I'm logging off right now. See. We're all good. Delete the nice kitty now. I'll just sit here and figure out how to get away from the... the baddies. Right. The baddies. They should really be our focus right now, don't you think?

Intervention Please

Hi. I'm Quint, one of Amelie's characters in her Urban Fantasy series - you know, the book she's supposed to be focusing on. I'm the main character of this 2nd novel, in fact. I don't know what she was working on yesterday, but it sure as hell wasn't my story. 

Mid last week, she sent me off on a mission pretty much tailor-made to my particular abilities. Easy in, easy out and I'd be home with my Jayna in under 48-hours. Then while I was gone, some bad shit went down with our buddy Chase. Poor kid. He's in bad shape. But do I get back there quick to help out and be there for my crew? No. Friggin' Amelie pulls a cliff-hanger on me on Friday - Steele informs Jayna that I've missed my last three check-ins and they're sending a team in to look for me. So what happens? Of course! Jayna insists on going with the team... into danger! Apparently none of those limp dicks back there are wearing their big boy undies because did they talk her out of going? Keep her safe and under wraps in the Taj Mabunker that we call home base? Hell no. Morons.

Those of you in the know might be aware that Jayna and violence are not exactly like macaroni and cheese. More like toothpaste and orange juice. Yeah. She's not good around violence, but hand it to her for doing much better with it lately. Hell, she'd have to to hang with us for any length of time and she's definitely pulling her own.

I know I'm on hold over the weekend, because NO writing gets done then. So, yesterday I'm all pumped. And does Amelie get back to my book so I can find out what the hell went wrong with my mission and just how big of a shit pile I've stepped in? Ah, no. She'd be all proud, telling you that she got 1300 words written, plus some triathalon-like house straightening. Yippee. 1300 words written on a Science Fiction piece that's got zippo to do with our situation. Way to go, Amelie.

Someone please give this chick a kick in the pants and tell her to get back to telling a story that's important. I don't care about the disposesed heir of some far off fictional planet, although she does seem like a nice person - cares about her people, blah blah blah. But my lady is about to deliberately put herself in danger, and there's jack I can do about it right now. Not knowing what's happening is pissing me off. Tell Amelie to get on the stick. Please!