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Holy crap, I did a lot today. And I freaked myself out rewriting the library scene. I don't know if it'll make the readers crap their pants, but I feel like sleeping with the light on.

Today's Research:

• Ten-codes vary widely from department to department. However, a Ten-Double-Zero is nearly universal for "officer down, all units respond." This is a better choice than "Ten-Thirty-Five," which is just "major incident." Duh.

I have been listening to my Yellow Roses mix while I write the rest of this book, but for the library scene I switched. First Solus ad victimam by Kenneth Leighton, then Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique. The march to the scaffold is truly freaky.

Often while writing, I have felt that the stories I want to tell are ill-served by my talent. I knew the ending of THE COLD ONES long before I began to write the book, and yet when I finally wrote the ending (and rewrote it, as is my wont) it was not nearly as horrifying and painful as it had been in my head. The grief of ABADDON was muted by the time it reached the page. The adventure of SANCTUARY has yet to reach a point where I would send it out for people to read. The chills of YELLOW ROSES never seem to match my imagination.

And yet I think I'm getting closer. I first had the idea for YELLOW ROSES three years ago. I wrote the rough draft in December and January. And now as I write what will prayerfully be the last full rewrite before submission, I feel it growing into the best book I have yet written.

I don't know if that makes me a better writer, or if I just fall in love with my own language. As I've said before, writing is essentially just talking to myself. It remains to be seen whether anyone else will want to listen in.

I certainly hope so. Cat and her ghosts are too much fun to lose. But creepy. I think I need to cuddle a teddy bear tonight. That library ghost is an unpleasant character.

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