That’s one of John Travolta’s lines from Broken Arrow, right when he’s crushing Christian Slater’s skull. He delivers it with such wacky glee that it always makes me giggle, even if the rest of the movie’s dialogue doesn’t hold up to repeat viewings. It was I think the first time he played his now famous and unwanted "John Travolta is the cold, charismatic bad guy" character. He should stop it now.

Today was a day of re-writing. And not on editor’s orders either. No, it was a re-write of an early chapter of Secret Project S. Because I hated it. I hated it and I wanted it to die, and it could have very easily been done better had I not psyched myself out. This chapter was leftover from an earlier and much crappier draft, you see, and apparently crap is hard to get out without a scalpel and a steam cleaner. But I have re-written it, and like it much better. We are almost at the convergence point, and that, I think, is when things will really smooth out. Or it could completely de-rail. Whatever. That’s the fun/torture of writing.

Remember that scene from Secret Window, where Johnny Depp is playing with the slinky and talking to his dog and he says something to the effect of, "Well, that’s just bad writing. And you know the rules. No. Bad. Writing." And then he deletes the paragraph. And then he goes and kills his wife and her boyfriend with a shovel. I’d be a far more productive writer if I could just learn to delete the paragraph and then go kill my wife and her boyfriend with a shovel. Enough said.