Rewriting is not fun

Well it sort of is but then again it isn't really. I hope I'm making sense but i'm probably not. This is Eric by the way.

We all thought we were done we all thought he story had been told we were all ready to be yanked into the next one to actually relive the whole war just as we'd just relived all the events leading up to the war as Anne wrote Legend and then...

She yanked us all around back to the beginning. Apparently she's planning to rewrite the whole thing over again several times. And it's confusing, because she doesn't write it in order anymore. She keeps backtracking an sidetracking. Oh the life of a character.

Right now I'm in jail. This is near the beginning so though right now I know what happens next all she has  do is start writing and it's like we're doing it all over again and we have no memory of what happened after the point in time she's writing.

Anyway Anne asked me to do beautiful people today and I said sure but then she said she wanted the Sage to ask the questions. Well I agreed because she's been really good about listening to what I have to say lately and not going of and doing what she wants and I think she needs a reward but if I had my pick she would ask and answer the questions about me like she normally does. It's more comfortable that way.

Greetings. This is the sage. Many happy returns of the day. 

It's not my birthday

So? I want you to keep on living anyway don't I? 

Just ask the questions please.

That was a question.

Oh. I guess you want me to keep on living. Though I must say it's not a popular wish among the people I know.

You don't know me.

Yes I do.

Of course I do. I was talking about you.

I was talking about me.

But I had been talking about you not me,. It's rude to change the subject.

But when you say you and I say me it's the same thing.

No it isn't. I say you because you are you, and you say me because me is the seventh letter of the Hebrew alphabet.

You should say I am the seventh letter of the Hebrew alphabet and...

But I am not not a letter.

I "is" not a letter. And it most certainly is a letter.

Stop contradicting yourself.

I have a headache.

I have an onoin

That's not how you spell onion.

That may not be the way you spell it but it is the way I spell it.

How do ever expect anybody to understand you?

Simple I explain to her very carefully.

Her?

You certainly don't think anybody is a boy?

Lot's of people are boys.

That doesn't make anybody one. Lot's of people are crazy that doesn't make me crazy.

You are crazy.

I am a sage.The two are often mistaken for each other but in the end the either amount to the same thing or something entirely different.

*Thud*

I believe he's passed out. Oh well I must be getting a long. There are messes to make.

Binker's Weekly Updates I

It's Saturday! Anne currently has 3372 words of Legend written. I have with me here Eric and Roddy who will be coming in later to write about what's going on in their lives right now. 

But I get to talk first. Anne is in the middle of chapter two and

She left me there with my head spinning around about to black out! You guys have no idea what it feels like to be a book character. While the author is writing you're reliving what happened. It's like you're taken back in time and you have to go through everything including the not knowing how its going to turn out all over again. And then when she stops writing you are left in what ever condition you were in.

Eric! Its my turn right now! BTW Eric is writing in bold and Roddy is writing in italics.I  thought I;d share a paragraph with you from her book. Just a little taste. 

It was like watching a tiger in a cage. Like watching an eagle in a net. Shivers ran down John’s spine.  He wished that someone else were the prison guard. Big strong man that he was this youth frightened him. His eyes glittered and his lips were stretched over small white teeth from which hatred and loathing shone like sunlight.  John was used to tired criminals. Men he pitied and men he prayed for, even the hardened men who he knew would do anything to get out did not frighten him as much as the young lion who was now turning his back on the tray of food he had slid under the door. Hardened criminals he could take, but this animal was not the kind of thing he was used to.

 

Right now I'm really mad at her. You know where she left me?

They had simply taken him away and sold him to a man who raised horses. Sold. Stamped and sealed as the property of another. He turned his hand over and stared hard at the mark upon it.  The seal of another man. The same mark he would brand a hog or a letter with. The familiar sickness rose in his throat. The world swam. Only one thing stayed still: the red mark on his hand, a glowing red bird it grew flaming and and throbbing its image into his eyeballs so when he closed his eyes there it was imprinted on the back of his hand.It seemed to turn its head ansd fly toward him beak ready to pierce him through. He waited petrified. Its eyes glittered evilly and the thing dangling from its claws became a net the bird flew closer it was many birds each silent and sinister each re. each hilding the wedge of this net. They were above him. He turned his head and the net dropped enveloping him in its folds. It was cold brushing his skin like the touch of...

Touch of what! I'm stuck feeling sick with my hand throbbing like it's on fire, hallucinating about birds feeling the cold touch of the net on my skin but unable to finish my thought until she writes it! 


Sorry you guys! But Binker really wanted to do his post right now. This is Anne by the way.


Get me out of here miss anne  person. Now!


Manners Roddy!


Alright alright enough of this! Lets finish my thought!


Coming! Coming!