It was not the weekend I wanted. I was stressed out, tired, and basically unproductive the whole time. I had HOPED to be able to script, ink, and color three weeks of The Greatest Science Fiction Comic on the Web, but that kind of quality takes more “soul” than I had in me — at least in those quantities.

I’ll reiterate from an earlier Journal entry: Schlocktoberfest 2004 is going to be dark, and it’s only the beginning of Book IV, which is ALSO going to be dark. Writing this stuff is hard work, and getting it FUNNY is especially painful. It’s easy to write depressing things — just check any teenager’s Live Journal — but writing dark drama with cheery punchlines… THAT’s a real chore. It’s like schizophrenia.

I’m not complaining. I’m not even making excuses. After all, the buffer still stands at 32, and although it’s going to erode quickly with all my upcoming travel, that’s what it’s there for — you’ll get your Schlock fix, right on time.

Okay, maybe I AM complaining. The weekend is gone, and I don’t feel like I’ve got much to show for it. *sigh*

I didn’t get into the Nesquik again. This time I got into the OvalkWIKI, my new, hyperlinked encyclopedia of plotting, character development, and all things Schlockiverse.

I wrote for something like six hours straight, starting at 8:30pm. It was Oh-Dark-45 (nudging 3am) before I got into bed and slept. Fitfully. Dreaming of plots and characters and the rest of it.

If Writer’s Block is like constipation, what I’ve got right now this morning is Writer’s Hangover.

It feels good. I wish I could do this more often.

The revelation in today’s strip was, for me anyway, the absolute best part of this storyline. When I figured out how Petey did what he did, what HAD been a hodgepodge of plot-device compromises suddenly solidified in much the same way supercooled water will solidify if you drop an ice-cube into it.

More ramblings, but you’d better read today’s strip and footnote first.

I be in da funk, yo.

Stupid Nesquik. I have no control. My first binge (Saturday) coincided with decent diet from the day before, so I was alright, but trying to maintain a sugar high for four days is a Bad Thing. Wednesday’s insomnia was disastrous, and today has been a depressing grind as a result.

So I’m experiencing chemically-induced doldrums. Snapping out of it is tough, and it’s costing me buffer. I should have had a week inked by Tuesday night, and I’m only a third of the way there on Thursday.

New rule: giving Howard Nesquik as a treat will earn you Negative Points. Bringing Howard some sushi, or maybe chinese food, or even a McDonald’s double-cheesburger? Positive Points. Actual fresh sushi may earn you a level-up, or maybe an extra life.

While I don’t expect this to be an issue often (few enough of you have the opportunity to treat me to ANYTHING), when it comes up, I’m sticking to my guns. You don’t bring a bottle of vodka to a reformed alchoholic, you don’t ply a cold-turkey smoker with a pack of camels, and you don’t bring me any more damn Nesquik. EVER.

Chalain, Liren, and Vermillion are forgiven for their enabling behavior at Fandemonium. They had no way of knowing.

–Howard