Longest I've ever been dedicated to a story.

I mean. Wow.

Seriously.

I usually have about a million story ideas a day, often inspired by the most inane and stupid things like a single song or a few sentences in a conversation I had with somebody, but I only scribble down the vaguest outline (sometimes so vague that I forget about them and don't know what they are about when I dig them up again) and put it on the back-burner for another day. I'll flit from one story to the next most days without being quite sure just which one I want to sink the most work into on any other given day. I mean - I've been taking time between security patrols at work to tap away on the most recent chapter in this story. Since none of my whopping 16 followers have ever met me in person, I feel I can't drive home how out of the ordinary this is for me.

Like, for real, this is about the time when I would have moved on to another idea, not kept working at this one.

I think I've finally found a story to catch my interest. For years, wanting to write a book, I've been trying to find such an idea. And its about pastel anthro ponies.

Are you proud of me now, father?

. . .

Because I sure am.

Damn proud.

Something to leave with those that read this far.