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The Seven Potters 

HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILERS BELOW

1. Haiku predictions: Who’s your daddy?
2. Much, very, very, much to my surprise: I found Year Seven at Hogwarts to be one of the least impressive books of the series. Perhaps that will change after additional reads. For now, however, I feel it was anti-climactic, more convenient than usual and, at times, wrongly executed, such as in the way WB makes the movies. Did I guess too much ahead of time? Am I too familiar with her formula? How many times have we read as Harry asked himself a few questions like this?

I do like that the writing grows darker, and more challenging to young readers, as the books evolve: The execution matures with the characters. I could find much to compliment in terms of the plot.

Yet, I also feel that something must be crazy wrong with me in that I did not get the usual level of enjoyment from this book. The final line (and in a lesser form the final chapter) even made me cringe a little.

Usually I am left wanting so much more, feeling so lost when it is over and I'm forced back to reality…

I wonder, even more so than I did with the last installment, if having more writing time would have proved beneficial to the story. The answer is yes, and in a necessary way.

That's been paramount on my mind these last few days: What it means to only have one shot, and when it's smartest to settle for a good plan today over a great plan tomorrow; as opposed to when it simply won't do.

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Landmark 

I am in hiding.

Still.

Do you see that, as I make my way back west, I am in now in Virginia? I had some DC-area meetings and, thus, am here. I had to come out of hiding to meet people and dance a little, but only for a couple of hours each time. It wasn’t so bad.

Lately I have been trying to remember that I am alive and what it feels like to be alive and that I am in such good shape, or was two weeks ago, that I should be running miles every day through this world. Instead, I am running pages every day through someone else’s world. I am nearly done with what’s been published of A Song of Ice and Fire. A reader had recommended the series to me a while back and then the costumer designer for Artemis (Anastasia Smith) pressed me to read them as well. So here I am, thinking of Winterfell while curled up in my old room for four hours at a time (at least) like I am eight years old devouring entire worlds and eternity day after day; time like I used to spend every hot, humid August; how I spent my time when I wasn’t on a ballfield earning respect and adventure via base hits and steals.

I’ve received a handful of more-than-worthy questions about the filmmaking process (the way our journey is developing around Artemis Eternal) via e-mail. I’m chewing on how best to address what it seems some are curious to know. If there’s interest, I think I might like to talk a little instead of write. If so, would you watch?

I will think on that as I travel back to Los Angeles, as I think about everything else. Although, I will probably talk even if there isn’t interest, as I do.

Speaking of traveling to Los Angeles, reader Sean Stubblefield was recently in the city. After his visit, he sent me an e-mail:

Hung out at Gower Gulch for a while. Maybe it was my imagination, but I did get a sense of the magical you mentioned. All 3 very nice servers in Starbucks not only knew who you were, but remember what you usually order. So I had the Jessica special: Grande Vanilla Iced Latte. Tastes like French Vanilla-- which, besides Irish Cream, happens to be the only kind of coffee I like (that I know of). My first SB coffee, and it was delicious. Andy assured me he always makes it perfect. He asked if I was your boyfriend. Hmm… intriguing notion. I think he thought/hoped I was bringing the coffee to you, because he wrote on the cup: “Made perfectly & with love by Andy”. Then “Jess”. And he says he has everything he needs to make your next coffee just as perfect. Do with that what you will.

Ah yes, I am alive. I am a person with a name. I almost remember it. There are places three thousand miles away where people know it. They will write it on a cup, and it will mean Me. And they expect me to come back, I suppose. If only for the coffee.

For more tales from the portal to another dimension that is the Gower Gulch, search the Dead Sto Scrolls.

And as for adventures, why don’t you pick up an Aidmheil? I can inscribe it for you if you do so today. Haha--Perhaps scrawling my name on inner covers a few times will bring it all flooding back… I’m alive!

We shall see.

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Saturday Morning 

Jessica: Are you going to get your telescope out tonight? Is there anything interesting in position that we can see or something happening?
The Grizz: There’s always something; the planets of life moving through the atmosphere of space and time—What are you doing, son?
Jessica: Bread and butter and honey. Breakfast.
The Grizz: Did you boys hear that someone tested the idea of an invisibility cloak?
C.Sto: I’m not a boy.
Jessica: That news is so last year.
C.Sto: Who was it that invented the invisibility cloak?
M.Sto: The Klingons.
Jessica: No, it was the Romulans.
C.Sto: …IN REAL LIFE.
M.Sto: Oh.
The Grizz: Scientists.
Jessica: British scientists.

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