A letter.

Dear Chapter 41 of Camera Shy,

Come. ON.

Really?

You're the last freaking chapter. Well, not technically the last chapter; there are 15 chapters after you, but they are all dutifully written. Unlike you. You are the one glaring BLANK SPOT on my "progress" chart. The single dissenting voice - out of 56 bloody chapters - that keeps me from being able to say that this massive overhaul is done. You're not even a half-hearted start of a chapter or nonsensical paragraph of jotted notes like many of your predecessors were until the muse struck and I figured out how to finish them. You're just a blank page with "Chapter 41" in centered, 12 pt Courier font above a cavernous void of maddening white blankness.

You, you stubborn little bastard, are the only thing standing between me and the vodka & video games of celebration.

It's a simple scene, the likes of which I've written a bazillion times in my writerly career. Yeah, you're that kind of scene. So WTF is the problem?

Now, usually when I get to this point, if a scene simply will not happen, I ask myself if I can cut it. And many times, the answer is a resounding "yes" followed by the ominous chop of the Outline Guillotine of Doom(tm). You, however, are not a scene that I can cut. There is nothing gratuitous about this scene. In fact there are 7 other chapters specifically leading up to your sorry ass, so you. must. happen.

So why won't you freaking happen??? WTF is going on??? Jason and Simone have been exceptionally cooperative today, so don't even try to blame them. You're an indoor scene, so don't bitch to me about the weather being a problem. Besides chapter 30 managed quite nicely in spite of (probably because of) a torrential downpour, so it's a moot point anyway.

This is me and the other 55 chapters staring you down and giving you the "why won't you cooperate?" look. Don't make me break out the dunce cap.

Get. Yourself. WRIT.

Or I will...

...um...

...I...

Dammit, just get yourself writ. I want to drink vodka and play video games.

Sincerely,

Your humble, tired, seriously-over-this-revision author.