Act II Afterward
Meeting of Minds
Act II Afterward
When I started this story, nine odd months ago, I had a simple plot in mind. To show what happened when two distinct personalities got tossed into one head, and how the individual to whom that happened came to cope and adjust to the situation.
The venue for that plot was to be my protagonist's journey home, which was to take several weeks of time, and probably ten chapters of story. Yep, ten chapters. Something went very wrong with my plans. I know right when the story diverged from my original concept. Sue, or rather, Eadgils, was sitting in an Arby's, watching a rowdy bunch of kids at the counter. Then Patrick came along.
Some people said I kept killing poor Patrick for way too long. Perhaps. But it was only for four days. It just seems longer than that when you keep dying.
At this point, Sue has been Immortal for just a bit under a week. And I've passed the 110,000 word mark on the story. And those ten chapters? I just finished up chapter 26. And some of those 26 chapters were big enough that they ought to count double. Three of them, to be exact. So one could reasonably say I have gone three times as far as I had intended. And still have at least as much story left to write as I had planned to write in the first place. How so? By my current outline, the final special effects laden conclusion to the story, which is already written, by the way, is numbered as Chapter 33. It is followed by an epilogue, much as Chapter 1 was preceded by a prologue. I like logues apparently. In any case, assuming I can stick to that, then I should have a story of about 150,000 words, more or less. Certainly a good sized novel.
Plot wise, well, Sue has made it home already. Now what? Well, in the intervening months, I learned that even as the writer of the story my characters can surprise me. Patrick came entirely from left field. I had never intended for Sally to know about Sue being an Immortal. When she told Sue she knew that last night in the RV, I was probably more shocked than anyone. The guy in the airport was not as much of a surprise to me though. As you will see in Act 3, the seeds for it were planted way back in Chapter 1. Yes, that long ago. Granted, they took a long time to come to fruition, most villains make their appearance before the last third of a story. But in this case, Sue was not around for him to menace before now. Now that she finally is, he has a whole lot of catching up to do. Thus we come to the subtitle for Act 3. While it's working title has varied, from "LA Plot" to simply "Home", I think it's current incarnation, "Perils of Sue" is most apt. For that will be what most of act 3 consists of. Perils, of one sort or another, either from without, or from within, for Sue to survive or endure.
It will be a while before I can give it to you. I have yet to finish a single chapter, other than the actual last one, of Act 3. In fact I've been stuck on Chapter 28 for over a year, trying to get the feel for a specific scene right- it is kind of pivital to the rest of the story, and so far I haven't made what I write match what I want, and I will not settle for less than something I can be satisfied with (I'm not even trying for perfection, just a decent reflection of the mood in my mind) even if that means I NEVER finish the story. To me no story is probably better than a poorly written one. And I hope none of you think that what you have read so far was poorly written. (If you did, PLEASE let me know.)
For now I leave you with the consolation that Sue is finally at home. Asleep, in her own bed.
I leave you with the image of her sleeping peacefully, in an upstairs room with sky blue walls, still covered with slightly tattered boy-band posters from the 90's, along with various other posters and pictures of interest to the teenaged Sue who so decorated them. The air in the room has a slight damp fresh rain smell, and a faint sound of running water can barely be heard from outside.
A large tree sits vigil outside her window, swaying gently in the night time breeze, as a soft rain patters gently against the slightly open window. Rainwater rushes by in the riverbed behind her house, disappearing down the channel under the Camino College parking lot.
Patrick is asleep in one of the guest rooms somewhere, probably downstairs.
And in the living room, on the carpet before the fireplace, where a dimly glowing bed of coals marks the remnants of a once roaring fire, the coyote keeps a silent watch, his golden eyes seeming to glow in the near darkness. He knows what is coming. Ask the Indians, they can tell you. Coyote knows the future, and if he offers you a warning, you should follow it, or you will face the consequences. Coyote knows.