Thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening, me! So there I was, in the shower, and WHAM, it hit me like a baseball knocked into the desolate corner of the outfield where I was busy picking at my glove, no eye for the action or the impending idea. BAM! I staggered, nearly fell, clutched a handful of shower curtain, one foot kicked out, soap in my eyes. BAM! It hit me again, nearly knocked me into the wall, broke tiles and tore the curtain rod clear from where it was screwed into the walls. Man, what an idea! A notion, even, realization of vast and pelagic proportions.

See, what hit me, right, what smacked me upside the head like a Nintendo Tyson in Punch Out! was that I didn’t need to wrap up everything in the non-eponymously named Blood From the Mountain. If there was too much to squeeze into that novel, then by heck and high water I could end it on a cliff hanger and write a second book! More Blood From the Mountain! Mountain Blood Part Deux! The Mountain, It Gets Bloodier!

And this, this my friends, severs the Gordion knot in twain, it splits my dilemma down the middle and liberates me to go dancing in night clubs when I would otherwise be constrained and forced to crush some thirty, forty, fifty thousand words worth of ‘narrativo’ into a mere 10k. Which, while possible, would have read like the Cliffs Note of Orc World Domination, and who would want to do that after slogging painfully through the first 70k of the book? Not this author, dear and gentle reader, not this one!

So I am going to throw Tharok into some final situation, bring the pot to a boil and then mercilessly draw the curtains closed just as the action is getting good. “INTERMIZZIONE!” I will yell as I dance out on stage, top coat and tails, bending over to give the booing crowd a sight of my rear end. “Go to the loo and get a glass of bad wine! The tale recommences in two months! Ha!”

Which means which means I get to wrap this whole think up in the next 10k (read: two days), and get stuck into GRIND SHOW II. Which will no doubt have a snazzier title, something along the lines of RETURN OF THE GRIND SHOW, or CATS & KITTENS INTO THE GRINDER GO! The exclamation is there by merit of artistic license.

Also: that means I have to come up with a plot for the second book. But that’s what Tuesday nights are for, innit? I mean, honestly.

OK, so yep, that’s what I had to say. Massive developments of a purely theoretical nature on the ever rolling and processional storm front that is FMW.

As Lady Gaga said, “Rah rah ah ah ah, roma roma, ma, Gaga, oh la la!”