First of all I am honored that writer Scott Bury thought enough of me to pick me as one of his “seven”. And I am going to comply—well, at least I am going to my WIP and I am going to page seven, but I am going to pick nine sentences from that page. Truth is, the best seven sentences on that page need two more to complete them. Why, you might ask? Because I can’t stand to see things out of context or left unfinished. And this particular run had nine sentences. And it’s my blog. So clearly I’m altering mine to be the “797 Challenge”.

By the way, the third and last “7” represents me, after the blog is posted, picking seven other authors (presumably ones Scott didn’t already gather up from the exponentially shrinking pool).

Which is exactly why I dislike these little ditties. I think 772 or 773 would be cleaner; it would make the chore of finding a number of other authors on which to drop this bomb…I mean, honor…quicker and less time-consuming for those of us late to the festivities. But therein lies the rub:

I fully believe “challenges” like this are originally written by young kids in Mom and Dad’s basement, trying to see how far and how wide their little “challenge” will travel. Fun for them, work for us.

But “honor” really is what I meant. I swear.

And also, uh, FUN. This grand exercise is completely ffffffffffun.

Stop laughing. I was most definitely NOT thinking “fucked”, so don’t put words in my mouth.

Fun. Yep. That’s what this is.

Back to serious mode.

Shifting gears and all that.

Soooo, my WIP . Well, it is the third book in the Detective Bobby Mac series Clan of MacAulay series. The working title is Reckoning and it will cap off the CoM trilogy. I’m still planning on writing more Bobby Mac books. I love the guy too much to let him go, and I know there are enough readers that feel the same way that I’d never do that to him. You know me, I would never, not in a hundred years, do anything like, oh, I don’t know…kill him in the final book.

I know some authors that would do that. But not me. Come to think of it, Scott’s the kind of author who might do that. Same kind of asshole that has me writing this blog, just for him. At his beck and call.

Nah, Scott’s not an asshole. He’s cool. Truth is I just want to see Bobby Mac do a lot more detective work (if you haven’t read the first two books, he’s been a little embattled in this part of his life by the emergence of the paranormal: demons, devils, nasty creatures—and while that’s been scary, crazy fun, and a nice twist, I want to wrap up that part of the story line with the final book of the trilogy.

So here it is: seven (nine) sentences from page seven of Reckoning:

I’VE BEEN A COP FOR AS LONG AS I CAN REMEMBER, or at least it seems that way most days. That is not a complaint. I was born for this work; I’d no sooner trade in my badge than I would my wife, my three little girls, or my son. And if it wasn’t part of who I was when I was born, it certainly defines me now. I’ve always believed that all good cops feel that way—that being a cop is as fundamental to their core personality as anything else about them. As fundamental, actually, as their hair color or their height and weight.

It’s in the DNA.

And I am, in a word, fulfilled.

Churchill said: “Find a job you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.”

There. Seven (nine) sentences. Done.

I am not sure if I will get some kind of derogatory letter in the mail from a lawyer, telling me to “cease and desist” in my altering of the 777 rules. I am also not sure if I will pick any other writers. Which would then make my own challenge a clean 790. I kind of like that. The “790 Challenge”: go to page seven, pick nine sentences, and then choose no more writers to do the same.

I suppose the challenge would die off too quickly that way. Right after the nine-year-old tweeter who dreamed this one up in his basement to see how far it would spread in the Twitterverse sent out his first tweet, the dunce. As John Cleese might say, in regard to whatever joker decided to spread the “790 challenge” like wildfire over the wires:

“Not bloody SMART, now are you?”

In all seriousness, I thank Scott for including me. I really didn’t have anything I felt like blogging about today, and this gave me something to post. (I’m sure YOU’RE thanking Scott as well, because what a damn fine bunch of sentences that was—and you got two bonus babies off me, PLUS a quote—see, I treat my readers right.)

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The blank page is dead…long live the blank page.

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Author known to use spontaneous satire, sarcasm, and unannounced injections of pith or witticisms which may not be suitable for humorless or otherwise jest-challenged individuals. (Witticisms not guaranteed to be witty, funny, comical, hilarious, clever, scintillating, whimsical, wise, endearing, keen, savvy, sagacious, penetrating, fanciful, or otherwise enjoyable. The Surgeon General has determined through laboratory testing that sarcasm can be dangerous, even in small amounts, and should not be ingested by those who are serious, somber, pensive, weighty, funereal, unsmiling, poker-faced, sober, or pregnant.)