Taking a Bite out of Harry

When I finally shuffled off to bed last night, I was on page 301 of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Harry, in his sweet, gifting way, is teaching me something that I should have known, but didn't quite: You can't tell people a story--that's not what makes a book great. What makes a book great is sharing moments. Oh sure, the details of how Harry felt when he was looking for the train to Hogwart's might not be the most important in the book, but they pull the reader closer to Harry. This is something Ms. Rowling accomplishes masterfully. It's as if Harry is sitting across from us on the train and sharing some pretty interesting moments from his life--and we're jotting them down in our memory.

It's exactly the feel I'm searching for with Vlad. Only with far more sarcastic jabs, a lot more blood and several situations where you don't know whether to laugh or yell, "Ew!" Writing Vlad has been, above all, a heck of a lot of fun. And I think that's a big reason I'd been questioning whether or not I was headed in the right direction with him--writing is art and aren't we supposed to suffer for our art? Some would disagree and I'm quickly lining up on their side. Art can be fun and pleasant and easy--we just have to let it be.

November 6th is coming up fast. I couldn't be more ready.