Cabbages and Kings

A diary by the authors of the Louis Kincaid series

My Photo
Name:
Location: Fort Lauderdale/Elk Rapids, Florida and Michigan, United States

We are the New York Times bestselling authors of the Louis Kincaid series and other stand alone thrillers. We have taught writing at major conferences for ten years.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Booky Noise IV: The Yeah But Defense

Welcome back to the Booky Noise workshop, where we analyze the openings of some of our regulars here. I don't let the writer preface their openings here, don't let them "tell" you anything about the book because it is important that we read it cold, just like anyone picking it up at a bookstore might. Why? Because too often, when Kelly and I do writing workshops, we hear what I call the "Yeah But Defense." This tactic usually goes something like this:

Me: I really like your description but I find am I confused about where this is taking place and who is talking.

Writer: Yeah but if you read on to page 10, it becomes very clear that...

Here's the problem, and this is common to ALL writers (including moi): When we write, we have this wonderful thing going on in our brains. To me, it is like a movie I am seeing in my head. To you, it might be a soundtrack of people talking or maybe a storyboard of scenes. Whatever you are experiencing, it is probably very vivid and exciting. But then something happens as you begin to translate those images from your brain screen to the computer screen. Sometimes there is a disconnect between brain and fingers. Something becomes lost in translation.

We writers, often can't see this. But readers can. They aren't privvy to the creative process; all they care about is can they follow the story you are trying to tell? Is it emotionally involving for them? Is it dramatically compelling? Does it make sense?

And then there is the ego thing. We writers are big writhing gooey masses of ego. We are easily bruised and we are never so vulnerable as when we throw our new stuff out there for the first rounds of feedback. We want to be told our stuff is Great! Fabulous! Better than anything Paterson does! We don't want to hear our babies are homely. Even when we suspect they are.

So, next time you are offered feedback -- here, from your critique group or an editor, resist the urge to explain. Someday, when your book is on the shelf at Borders and a customer picks it up, reads the first page and puts the book down, you're not going to be there to say "Yeah but..."

Enough lecturing.

Let's take a look at Jude's opening. I am not suggesting Jude has a Yeah But issue here at all. (Jude was in one of our workshops at SleuthFest once and takes feeback like a trouper). But does this opening make you want to read on? Does it reel you in? (Apologies, Jude, given your fishing theme here!) Can it be improved? Let him know what you think:

My stepfather, drunken bastard that he was, taught me two important survival skills: How to use a baitcaster reel, and how to filet a bass. On August 16, I had gotten up at six A.M. and exercised the first. By nine, I stood under the shade of a very large pine tree, busy with the second. I wore khaki shorts, no shirt, a pair of topsiders and a ball cap that said Guinness. Typical north Florida fishing attire. I’d run out of Barbasol three days ago, so my razor was on vacation until further notice.

I scraped the scales off my third and final fish, looked up and saw a little red car turning from Lake Barkley Road onto my gravel driveway. It was one of those cars I call a Bic. Like the lighters, they’re cheap and disposable. You buy one fresh off the lot, and by the time it needs new tires it’s ready for the junk yard. An internal timing device insures that all working parts take a dive at the precise moment the warranty expires.

It struggled up the hill and parked beside my GMC Jimmy. The driver’s side door opened and a young woman got out, wearing what at first appeared to be a hearing aid. It was one of those cell phone gizmos you hang on your ear so everyone thinks you’re loony tunes walking around talking to yourself. In the future, they’ll implant a computer chip directly into your brain and you’ll be perpetually connected, via satellite, to people you don’t want to talk to anyway. I was hoping I’d die before anything like that ever happened when the woman said, “Is this where you live?” She surveyed my home sweet home--a 1964 Airstream Safari travel trailer, parked on lot 27 at Joe’s Fish Camp--my ten year-old SUV, my blood-stained picnic table littered with catch-of-the-day carcasses. She had an expensive-looking hairstyle, clipped shoulder-length, brown with streaks of caramel, and a dubious look on her face. She wore a navy blue skirt and jacket, a thin white silky shirt, some sort of shoes that didn’t tread well on my sandy yard and a white leather purse. I doubted she was old enough to drink.

“If you’re selling something, I’m broke so don’t bother. If you’re from the loan company, I’m really broke so really don’t bother.” I was six weeks behind on my car payment. I expected to wake up any day now and find Jimmy not there. A tow truck hadn’t followed her in, so I figured I was safe for the moment.

“I’m looking for Nicholas Colt,” she said. “The private eye. Is that you?”

14 Comments:

Anonymous Tattieheid said...

I'm sure this has been critiqued elsewhere but I can't remember which site so I may just be repeating views that have already been expressed.

This opening doesn't work for me.

There is far too much background information. Do I need the first paragraph to be telling me which brand of shaving foam he uses? No.

I found it heavy going to read, (particularly the 3rd paragraph). The only thing I came away with was that the protag had an attitude towards small cars. That was a nicely written humourous second paragraph but it didn't add anything to the hook.

Which brings me to my question - Where is the hook? There is no sense of mystery or suspense all I get is an image of weary resignation.

This opening could have potential but I think you could cut it severely. This would still create an evocative mental picture and in the process give it an air of mystery. You might also want to bait the hook further by concentrating on the dialogue with the girl and letting her draw us in to the mystery she presumably represents.

I'm in the UK and used to buy a lot of American PI novels. (The British PI's just aren't the same) After a while it felt like most PI's in the US were fishermen, lived on a boat or on a trailer park, are always broke and about to be repossessed and inevitably weary with a 3 day beard and limited fashion sense. Some of them were very good books but they had a strong hook that pulled me past cliche and straight into a readable plot.

That's what you need here.

On a side note we "Brits" can sometimes find American books difficult to get into if they use too much local terminology or product naming that we have never heard of. Over here a "Baitcaster" reel is a specialist reel used only by a limited number of sea fishing enthusiasts. Barbasol isn't known over here and I don't think "topsiders" is a term many of us will have encountered before. None of that matters if you are going purely for an American market but if you want your work to travel you need to use a blend of descriptions that will satisfy a broad market.

This all sounds very negative and as an older reader who is very much a newbie writer I hate being critical of other peoples work. I know my own has a long way to go before it will stand in depth assessment.

I do get a sense of a writing tone from your opening that I might find attractive as a reader but it's buried in detail and isn't standing out the way I think it could.

Hope this helps.

5:53 PM  
Anonymous spyscribbler said...

I very respectfully disagree. I thought your voice started off strong and assured, and the character seemed interesting right off the bat.

Is there a reason why it's stepfather and not father? As long as there's an important reason, later, then cool. Also, with your obvious descriptive skills, could you find something more vivid than "very large pine tree?" I bet you could!

Could you try leaving off the "I wore khaki shorts, no shirt, a pair of topsiders and a ball cap that said Guinness. Typical north Florida fishing attire. I’d run out of Barbasol three days ago, so my razor was on vacation until further notice." and see if you agree that it makes your opening tighter?

It's sort of weird when a character describes himself. Even when he describes his things. Maybe you can have him react, instead, to what he thinks she's thinking about his things? Just a thought, though. The opening is working for me!

I will agree that your description of the heroine may match what a PI thinks, but ... any chance this description could be less facts and more an interesting clue to her character? It'd be great if you can make her pop right off the bat.

Great job! Your opening is vivid!

10:57 PM  
Blogger Mark said...

I essentially agree with tattieheid here. I'll comment as we go along.

* * *
My stepfather, drunken bastard that he was, taught me two important survival skills: How to use a baitcaster reel, and how to filet a bass. On August 16, I had gotten up at six A.M. and exercised the first. By nine, I stood under the shade of a very large pine tree, busy with the second. I wore khaki shorts, no shirt, a pair of topsiders and a ball cap that said Guinness. Typical north Florida fishing attire. I’d run out of Barbasol three days ago, so my razor was on vacation until further notice.

[I think this works fairly well. On a line by line basis it works. At the same time, I'm not sure it does work, because there's not really all that much going on. The thing that came to mind when I thought about it was: John D. MacDonald died in 1986 and Travis McGee went with him, and this type of opening may have died with both of them. But I'm willing to go with this because it's vivid, although I think you need to be specific about the type of tree given all the other specifics. I guess what I'm saying is that it works if, after having set the scene, you have something happen rather than more scene setting.]

I scraped the scales off my third and final fish, looked up and saw a little red car turning from Lake Barkley Road onto my gravel driveway. It was one of those cars I call a Bic. Like the lighters, they’re cheap and disposable. You buy one fresh off the lot, and by the time it needs new tires it’s ready for the junk yard. An internal timing device insures that all working parts take a dive at the precise moment the warranty expires.

[Nope, sorry. Maybe later in the work, not right now. Here's what this feels like. All good stories have forward momentum. Let's say, for visual effects here, that your story is a little red car driving down the road. You've started down the road with the first paragraph and on your second paragraph the engine just hiccuped. It's like your transmission just dropped into reverse or neutral. You're into your second paragraph and you've already lost momentum. Stick with this: I scraped the scales off my third and final fish, looked up and saw a little red car turning from Lake Barkley Road onto my gravel driveway.]

It struggled up the hill and parked beside my GMC Jimmy. The driver’s side door opened and a young woman got out, wearing what at first appeared to be a hearing aid. It was one of those cell phone gizmos you hang on your ear so everyone thinks you’re loony tunes walking around talking to yourself. In the future, they’ll implant a computer chip directly into your brain and you’ll be perpetually connected, via satellite, to people you don’t want to talk to anyway. I was hoping I’d die before anything like that ever happened when the woman said, “Is this where you live?” She surveyed my home sweet home--a 1964 Airstream Safari travel trailer, parked on lot 27 at Joe’s Fish Camp--my ten year-old SUV, my blood-stained picnic table littered with catch-of-the-day carcasses. She had an expensive-looking hairstyle, clipped shoulder-length, brown with streaks of caramel, and a dubious look on her face. She wore a navy blue skirt and jacket, a thin white silky shirt, some sort of shoes that didn’t tread well on my sandy yard and a white leather purse. I doubted she was old enough to drink.

[Sigh. I can't get past the feeling that John D. MacDonald is shaking his head and saying, "I had two big problems in my writing: preachiness and digressions." This is another hiccup for your little red car and a big one. It's a digression followed by a digression. I think your little red car is going to come to a dead stop in the middle of the road. Too much description, too much digression. There may be a time for this later, but not now. You can probably slip in something about her having the bluetooth device on her ear and that's a nice touch (they drive me crazy) and I like the description of her not being old enough to drink. But there's just too much description and too varied description here--honest to god, how many different things do you describe in this paragraph?]

“If you’re selling something, I’m broke so don’t bother. If you’re from the loan company, I’m really broke so really don’t bother.” [This dialogue is great. The Morrie the Explainer after it is unnecessary and dilutes the dialogue]. I was six weeks behind on my car payment. I expected to wake up any day now and find Jimmy not there. A tow truck hadn’t followed her in, so I figured I was safe for the moment.

“I’m looking for Nicholas Colt,” she said. “The private eye. Is that you?”

[Alternately, I like the voice you use. Just ... get to the point and keep in mind that you can't lose forward momentum at the beginning of your novel. I don't have any problems with the Americanisms at all. We're all stuck with that. I find such things in the Harry Potter books all the time that give me pause, and Ian Rankin's books drive me crazy with that, so I don't think it's an issue. I do think that if it were streamlined and you can control the digressions, this might work].

How about:

My stepfather, drunken bastard that he was, taught me two important survival skills: How to use a baitcaster reel, and how to filet a bass. On August 16, I had gotten up at six A.M. and exercised the first. By nine, I stood under the shade of a very large pine tree, busy with the second. I wore khaki shorts, no shirt, a pair of topsiders and a ball cap that said Guinness. Typical north Florida fishing attire. I’d run out of Barbasol three days ago, so my razor was on vacation until further notice.

I scraped the scales off my third and final fish, looked up and saw a little red car turning from Lake Barkley Road onto my gravel driveway. It struggled up the hill and parked beside my GMC Jimmy. The driver’s side door opened and a young woman got out, wearing what at first appeared to be a hearing aid. It was one of those cell phone gizmos you hang on your ear.

She said, “Is this where you live?” She surveyed my home sweet home--a 1964 Airstream Safari travel trailer--with an expression that suggested she had just bit into a rotten martini olive. I doubted she was old enough to drink.

“If you’re selling something, I’m broke so don’t bother. If you’re from the loan company, I’m really broke so really don’t bother.”

“I’m looking for Nicholas Colt,” she said. “The private eye. Is that you?”

Best,
Mark Terry
www.markterrybooks.com

9:25 AM  
Blogger Shannon said...

First, I’ll say overall I love your voice. I don’t read detective novels, so it’s very hard for me to say whether I would read on or not. Probably not, but that’s not a reflection on your writing, just my preference.

More specifically: The opening line isn’t strong enough. I like the first part: “My stepfather, drunken bastard that he was, taught me two important survival skills:” Here’s where it needs kicked up a notch—maybe something more like “how to use a bait caster reel and how to spot a murderer.” I don’t know what your story is about, that’s just an example, but if the only thing his stepfather taught him was about fishing, it’s not really worth mentioning.

I also agree it doesn’t really work for him to describe himself. Maybe he can get self-conscious later in the scene when the girl shows up and become “aware” of his unshaved, Florida fishing attire appearance.

I do love your sense of humor and definitely keep scenes like the “Bic car”.

The ear bud reference was good if you are trying to give us a sense of your character not keeping up with the times. In my mind, she seems a bit far away for him to spot that, especially first thing. He’s a guy right? Wouldn’t he notice her demeanor first? Is she confident, cautious? Just my opinion, but I think he would notice her attitude toward him before he would notice her streaks were “caramel”. As a matter of fact, I have never had a guy notice when I’ve gotten my hair done, not even my husband…so, I have a hard time swallowing it from your character.

I like the last paragraph. Again, the sense of humor. That seems to be your strong point.

I’m sure that as she gets into her story, we get more interested in what’s happened to her, but as far as just looking at it from her opening line…again, not strong enough. The first words out of her mouth should pull the reader in, especially if it’s the end of the chapter and that’s the only glance we get of her.

All in all, like I said, I love your voice, you definitely have something here, it just needs some bolts of lightning.

Good luck!

9:56 AM  
Blogger Jude Hardin said...

I LOVE some of the suggestions here! I'll hold off for a while before addressing the issues, negative and positive. Thanks all!

11:58 AM  
Blogger PJ Parrish said...

Damn, you guys are good. I think there is some valuable stuff here for Jude to digest and I have to say I agree with much of it.

Re: Tattieheid's observation about using brand names. Generally, I think s/he (sorry don't know you!) is spot-on for two reasons. 1. Brand names can be annoying to readers who don't recognize them 2. They can quickly date your story in ways you don't intend. This is a gripe I have with some of chick-lit with its emphasis on designer labels. And think twice before using really trendy stuff because it will be old news before your story even hits the shelves. BUT I do like to see specifics that illuminate character rather than generalities, so I like Topsiders vs shoes and I like the Barbasol line. But use them sparingly!

Now, on to structure and such:

I agree with spyscribbler that you have a nice voice going here. But as Tattie and Mark point out, the unshaven maverick loner HAS become a cliche (albeit a beloved one in John MacD's case) So if you are using this hoary archetype as your protag, you are going to have to work ten times harder to make your books feel fresh to an editor.

That said, I rather like your opening graph. But Shannon's point that your opening lacks tension, or even the promise of it is well-taken. She suggests something like: "My stepfather, drunken bastard that he was, taught me two important survival skills: how to use a bait caster reel and how to spot a murderer." Not a bad idea or some variation of it, because right away, it would identify what territory the reader is in -- crime novel with a hero that is to be reckoned with vs a fishing pastoral.

One last point: I agree with everyone's comment that this needs tightening. I'm going to do a future post on description but basically, most writers err in one big way: They come up with a terrific image but then they kill it by gilding it. You need to pare down to prime images.

Your stuff is in italics. My rewrite is not:

I scraped the scales off my third and final fish, looked up and saw a little red car turning from Lake Barkley Road onto my gravel driveway. It was one of those cars I call a Bic. Like the lighters, they’re cheap and disposable. You buy one fresh off the lot, and by the time it needs new tires it’s ready for the junk yard. An internal timing device insures that all working parts take a dive at the precise moment the warranty expires.

I was scraping the scales off my third and final fish when I looked up to see a little red car turning into my drive. It was one of those cars I call a Bic -- cheap and disposable. [I love the Bic metaphor but don't over-embellish!]

It struggled up the hill and parked beside my GMC Jimmy. The driver’s side door opened and a young woman got out, wearing what at first appeared to be a hearing aid. It was one of those cell phone gizmos you hang on your ear so everyone thinks you’re loony tunes walking around talking to yourself. In the future, they’ll implant a computer chip directly into your brain and you’ll be perpetually connected, via satellite, to people you don’t want to talk to anyway. I was hoping I’d die before anything like that ever happened when the woman said, “Is this where you live?” She surveyed my home sweet home--a 1964 Airstream Safari travel trailer, parked on lot 27 at Joe’s Fish Camp--my ten year-old SUV, my blood-stained picnic table littered with catch-of-the-day carcasses. She had an expensive-looking hairstyle, clipped shoulder-length, brown with streaks of caramel, and a dubious look on her face. She wore a navy blue skirt and jacket, a thin white silky shirt, some sort of shoes that didn’t tread well on my sandy yard and a white leather purse. I doubted she was old enough to drink.

A young woman got out. [Another common problem: Get rid of unecessary physical movement; we assume the car approached and that the driver's side door opened.] She looked expensive: streaked caramel hair, a navy blue suit over a silky white blouse [women don't wear shirts] and heels that dug into the sand as she made her way up to my 1964 Airstream. She took a long look at my blood-stained picnic table littered with fish carcasses and wrinkled her nose like she had just taken a drink of sour wine [or whatever] even though I doubted she was old enough to drink. [but she's old enuf to drive? So she is a teenager?] [I would lose the hearing aid phone here; maybe use it as a detail during their conversation later because we really need to get moving to the setup here!]

[I'd lose the line “Is this where you live?” because it doesn't seem like a natural opener for a stranger to say and again, we need to get things moving!]

“If you’re selling something, I’m broke so don’t bother. If you’re from the loan company, I’m really broke so really don’t bother.” I was six weeks behind on my car payment. I expected to wake up any day now and find Jimmy not there. A tow truck hadn’t followed her in, so I figured I was safe for the moment.

“I’m looking for Nicholas Colt,” she said. “The private eye. Is that you?”


"If you're from the loan company, I'm broke," I said. I was six weeks behind on payments for my ten-year-old GMC Jimmy.

Her eyes finally left the fish carcasses to come back to me. "Are you Nicholas Colt, the private eye?" she asked.

And so on...GET US TO THE POINT OF THIS SCENE MORE QUICKLY!

12:20 PM  
Blogger Mark said...

Jude,
It seems to me that the point of everything everybody has said here may be about choices.

(You ever see the movie, "Wonder Boys?" where Katie Holmes reads Michael Douglas's 2000 page manuscript and tells him that he always tells the students that writing is about choices, but he hasn't seemed to have made any?)

I absolutely love PJ's comment about sticking with the primal images.

We sometimes make fun of Elmore Leonard's comment about how he cuts out the stuff readers skip, but it's really good advice.

I see a tremendous amount of promise in your writing--I can't help but think a word for it is "muscular." You just need to figure out which detail you're going to present and why. In some ways it's our laziness of writing for modern society: we don't need to paint a real picture, we need to make a few choice details and let the reader fill in the rest.

12:37 PM  
Blogger Jude Hardin said...

Stout critiques here, folks. Much appreciated.

I don't think my guy is a cliche, but I won't go into the "Yeah, but..." defensive mode. :)

Here's one possible rewrite, getting to the point of the scene more quickly. Then maybe I can pepper the narrative with some of the previous description later.



My stepfather, drunken bastard that he was, taught me three important survival skills: How to use a baitcaster reel, how to filet a bass, and how to stand rock-steady against the recoil of a .357 revolver.

On August 16, I had gotten up at six A.M. and exercised the first. By nine, I stood under the shade of an old-growth pine with a filet knife in my hand, busy with the second.

The third would come later.

I wore khaki shorts, no shirt, a pair of topsiders and a ball cap that said Guinness. Typical north Florida fishing attire. I’d run out of Barbasol three days ago, so my razor was on vacation until further notice.

I scraped the scales off my third and final fish, looked up and saw a little red car turning from Lake Barkley Road onto my gravel driveway. It was one of those cars I call a Bic--cheap and disposable. A woman got out.
“I’m looking for Nicholas Colt,” she said. “The private eye. Is that you?”


Again, thanks so much, everybody, for taking the time to look this over and offer such thoughtful and valuable criticism. I'm flattered that you all thought the voice was strong. I do think I'm nailing it pretty good with this one and, as any agent or editor will tell you, finding a strong and unique voice is half the battle. Plots (IMO) are a dime a dozen. It's character and voice that potentially raise a manuscript toward the top of the slush.

Gracias!!!

1:23 PM  
Blogger Mark said...

Much better.

I'm not sure about the stock steady bit precisely, but something like that. And that next line is terrific. Very good.

2:00 PM  
Anonymous gregory huffstutter said...

Your re-write is more streamlined, but I'd echo the other comments that characters doing self-description (particularly in the first-person voice) is awkward.

Best to work it in piecemeal -- during the course of dialogue, using active verbs -- not right up front where it interferes with your opening.

For example, you could cut the entire “I wore khaki shorts” paragraph and work those nuggets into the rest of your scene… which I haven’t read, but I’m guessing it goes something like:

“The private eye. Is that you?”
“Are you talking to me, or into ear bud?” Shirtless, I wiped bloody hands on my faded khaki shorts. Typical north Florida fishing attire.
“You. Dummy.”
“My fee is fifty bucks an hour plus expenses.”
“Will you take a check?”
“Depends. Do I have to kill anyone?” Sweat ran down my stubble. I’d run out of Barbasol three days earlier, so my razor was on vacation until further notice.

See, that way you get right into the action, and use the descriptors as mini-breaks in the dialogue without losing your momentum.

Hope that helps!

2:25 PM  
Blogger PJ Parrish said...

Jude,

I didn't mean that YOUR dude was cliched, just that it might not feel fresh to some editors...but then, alcoholic PIs, embittered women cops, wise-cracking Spenser clones, curmudgeony inn owners...those are less-than-flesh characters as well. You can write an archetype, but you just have to find a way to put your own unique spin on it.

On the flip side, don't you all just cringe when you encounter a protag so idiosyncratic that it makes your teeth ache? (You know, assassin by day, garage band saxophonist by night who raises Mexican iquanas, orchids and two foster kids on the side. Oh yeah, and he always has a huge bald fill-in-ethnic-type-here sidekick) You can tell the writer is trying too hard to be unique and it feels so false.

4:29 PM  
Blogger Jude Hardin said...

Kris: I know what you mean. It's kind of a balancing act, working in a genre where readers have certain expectations yet want something fresh at the same time. I'm hoping Colt has enough of a unique personality and "take" on things to transcend the cliche. That's what I was trying to convey with his thoughts about the car and the Bluetooth, but it was probably too much too soon.

Greg: Good advice to incorporate description into action whenever possible. Long descriptive passages invite skimmage.

Mark: Thanks! I have seen Wonder Boys, btw. Great movie. And I'm flattered that you were reminded of John D., even though it might have been some of the aspects of his writing you don't care for (or maybe don't work as well for a 2006 audience).

Shannon: Great idea to get something up front besides fishing that he learned from his stepfather. I'm definitely keeping that.

Tattie: Thanks for your observations. Maybe incorporating Shannon's idea will give me a bit of that hook you were searching for.

Sky: I think your advice about having Colt notice something more interesting that her wardrobe is spot-on. I'll work on that.

You guys are great critters. I printed out all these comments for reference. Thanks!!!

5:26 PM  
Blogger The Scarlet Tree said...

Hi,
I enjoyed this opening, FOR ME, it read smoothly and I understood who was talking when and what was going on. And I was hooked in! I know zip, zero, zilch about fishing or American brands of sporting goods so just glanced over the names and kept going. But I think this is o.k. Someone who in interested in your P.I's hobby would find it interesting, so respecfully, I think that sometimes brand names and what have you, can work, but if Barbarsol isn't a fishing reel lubricant, then maybe this one is a bit hobby specific?


"By nine, I stood under the shade of a very large pine tree, busy with the second. I wore khaki shorts, no shirt, a pair of topsiders and a ball cap that said Guinness"

I like this, I think it could even be drawn out a bit, is he a neat clean bloke? Or does he only wash these every second week? Is that hat fresh or does it smell of fish scales in the sun? Personal hygenie can give so much info about a persons pesonality and character.
And would aid in creating a greater divide between the world of this young, well dressed girl and this unshaven, broke PI?

5:20 PM  
Blogger Jude Hardin said...

Thanks, Scarlet! Glad you enjoyed it.

I'm still tweaking a bit, and all the comments here have been helpful.

10:22 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home