This is one of the greatest photographs ever taken

"Weird Al" Yankovic, Neil Gaiman, and George R.R. Martin... all three together in one epic image!

I should make this the wallpaper image of my iPad, since I have all of Gaiman's Sandman series and Martin's complete (thus far) Game of Thrones/Song of Ice and Fire books loaded on it.  To say nothing of practically every song and video that Weird Al has produced throughout his career.

Seriously, that is a very, very cool picture.  Oh, to be a fly on the wall when those three geniuses came together...

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Holding pattern

For the past few posts I've been chronicling the progress of my book. Friends on Facebook are getting to see more in-depth "as it happens" but I still want to keep a more public record about how it's going. The past few days merit that.

At the end of August I had 66,000 words and when I read over Part 1 this past Sunday it took around 2 hours time. That wasn't everything that's been written, just the continuous material that flows from the prologue on through the point where I'm in the... uh-uh-uhhh, that would be telling ;-)

So how much new material did I generate this week?

Only a little more than a thousand.

However, it should be stressed that while that's just the new stuff, there's been a lot of work done in the past four days. Okay, three actually: I took yesterday off to... well, to be honest I needed to re-focus my thoughts on God. I needed to be refreshed as only He can provide. And He provided something for my book, when I least expected it to happen. That is now something that I'm going to use toward this project.

So in the three days that there's been work going on, I've edited some stuff, taken some things out and re-arranged a lot of manuscript.

One example is the prologue. The original is now further into the book (perhaps at the end of Part 2), and the new prologue - which was already written - was further along in Part 1. What is now at the beginning of the book is something that, without fail, everyone I've shared it with has been very disturbed by it. When I told Dad about it, to be frank, he was rather horrified.

But that can't be helped. This is the story of me, and everything that I've gone through. The good and the bad. One friend said that this book is going to educate those without bipolar and it's going to be an inspiration for those who do have it. I want to believe that he's right.

Everyone is telling me that this is going to be published. I want to believe that, too. I feel like my book is in a kind of limbo already. On one hand memoirs can be a tough sell. On the other hand however, memoirs about manic-depression are few and far between and tend to sell quite well in bookstores and on Amazon. I guess there's that going for it.

There is one other thing that is happening behind-the-scenes about this project, but I don't know if I should write about that. Don't want to "jinx" it. It does have to do with what God showed me yesterday, though. If (okay my friends keep telling me "not 'if', it's 'when'") this is published, I may post that little thing here.

In the meantime, the manuscript is holding steady, undergoing a little pre-emptive maintenance, as it were. It didn't start as a memoir but for all intents and purposes that is what it has become, in addition to being about aspects of bipolar that are very, very rarely written about (that also, I think will play in its favor).

And in case anyone is wondering: I'm having a lot of fun doing this. I'm growing as a result of it. God has truly been leading me along with this endeavor and I'm coming through it as a better person than I was before. And that's always a good thing.

Expect another update soon. Like, whenever. Or something...

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Thoughts on this season's DOCTOR WHO thus far

Two things have been the focus (okay, focii) of my faculties in recent weeks.  The first, of course, has been working on my book.  Chapters 1 through 11, as well as the preface and the prologue, are now locked-down and pretty much finished apart from some, shall we say, "supplementary material" that is going to provide a very intimate look into the mind of a manic-depressive.  Those chapters constitute Part 1.  I'm going to start writing Part 2 tomorrow.  And the chapters for Part 1 aren't the only ones already finished: the first several that I wrote haven't been assimilated into the main manuscript yet.  Those will add substantially more material.

But yesterday afternoon I took some time to read the preface, the prologue, and Part 1.  I made note of how long it took to read all of that.  It took a little over two hours.  Factoring in that my reading was probably faster than a first-timer's because I'm already intimate with the material, that might be two and a half, to three hours reading time thus far.  If it comes out around five or six hours, that should be plenty.  Anyway, I'm quite happy with progress thus far!

The second thing that has been on my mind has been Doctor Who, and Peter Capaldi's first steps as the Twelfth Doctor which began in earnest with the season premiere "Deep Breath" two weeks ago.  Since then we've had "Into the Dalek" and last night's "Robot of Sherwood" (penned, I noticed, by Mark Gatiss, who seems to be everywhere lately).  And I've had some time to think about it all.  And what do I make of the Doctor's adventures thus far since his regeneration from the Matt Smith era?

There is a scene that accompanies every regeneration.  It has never had a formal name.  I call it the "assumption scene".  The regeneration itself is the renewing of the Doctor's body and the beginning of his new personality.  Everyone knows that.  But for me that's never been the real beginning of a new Doctor's career.  That comes later.  It comes when the Doctor properly assumes the role along with whatever costume he has chosen for the part.  "The Christmas Invasion" in 2005 has David Tennant's Doctor running around in pajamas and defending the Earth, but for the most part that was not the Doctor.  Not yet.  He's the Doctor when he comes out of the TARDIS's wardrobe in his now-classic duds and shows up at the Tyler's flat for Christmas dinner.  Then he was the Doctor.  The rest of the time since regenerating from Christopher Eccleston he was a "quasi-Doctor".  And then in "The Eleventh Hour" there was Matt Smith running around in the Tenth Doctor's rags.  Toward the end of the episode he takes new clothes from the hospital's locker rooms, takes on a new look (especially the bow tie) and stares down the Atraxi... and then in that climactic moment he declares once and for all "I am the Doctor".

That is the moment when Matt Smith truly became the Doctor.  The assumption scene.  Which to me is just as crucial for the new Doctor's career as is the regeneration itself.

So I was looking forward to the assumption of Peter Capaldi's Doctor into his role.  And I'm still trying to digest it.  It is definitely Capaldi stepping into the role he has dreamed of having for most of his life.  I just wasn't expecting... well... a Doctor so dark taking over the controls of the TARDIS.

And I think that's a good thing.

His costume alone says volumes.  I didn't write about it when it was revealed but I've loved that look ever since.  It definitely has a healthy dose of Jon Pertwee's ensemble (absent the ruffles) but there's also the First Doctor's look, a dash of Eighth Doctor's attire and a healthy pinch of the Ninth Doctor's outfit.

Peter Capaldi's outfit is what I call "the Johnny Cash costume".  He's the Man in Black of the Time Lord set.  This costume confidently tell us "The fun and games are over, time to get serious."

But of course, it's not the looks alone that a Doctor make.  Most of all, there is the personality.  What that actor brings of himself into the role.  What makes the current generation of the Doctor his own.

Three episodes in, and Capaldi is nailing it.  He is absolutely bringing it as the Doctor.  And the more I watch him the more I'm discovering that he's already among my favorite incarnations of the runaway Time Lord.

Now, a look at the individual episodes...

"Deep Breath" almost... almost... completely satisfies as a story.  That, despite having all of the elements there for a proper explosive first story for the new Doctor as was his regeneration in last year's Christmas special.  I mean, we have dinosaurs.  We have mysterious deaths.  We have the return of Vastra, Jenny and Strax (who never fails to crack me up).  Clara (Jenna Coleman) is increasingly becoming one of my fondest companions in the entire history of the show, especially with her performance in that final scene.  And the new Doctor's gradual process of taking on his proper role is frantic and manic and just plum delightful to watch in spite of his utter confusion (again, this is a good thing).

Where "Deep Breath" went wrong for me is that it seems too long of an episode.  I think it was an hour and a half?  There could have been some editing of the second half and it wouldn't seem to have been bogged down in that section of the episode.  But that's really a minor quibble in the scheme of things.  And it more than made up for it in the the scene with the telephone at the end (you know what I'm talking about if you've seen it, and if you haven't then I'm not going to spoil it here).

I will also say this: the return of the clockwork robots was an utter delight.  When I first saw their inner workings in the half-faced man I wondered if Moffatt was taking us back into "The Girl in the Fireplace" territory.  And when the Doctor pulled that circuit out of the console and we see the name imprinted upon it... well, I nearly shrieked with delight.  Because "The Girl in the Fireplace" is my #1 favorite episode of the revived series's run and some consider it to be the finest Doctor Who story ever.  That also made up for what might have been too long of a running time for this episode.

I'd give "Deep Breath" 4 and 1/2 sonic screwdrivers out of 5 on The Knight Shift's longstanding rating system for Doctor Who.  Didn't quite hit the mark completely, but it's pretty dang close.  And I will go on record as saying that I thought the "assumption" scene was spot-on for this new Doctor.

Now... "Into the Dalek"...

With all due respect to Mr. Capaldi and that this was the one thing he was looking forward to most as the Doctor, this episode came way too SOON for his tenure.  For two reasons.  First, out of the four most recent stories ("The Day of the Doctor", "The Time of the Doctor", "Deep Breath" and now this episode) the Doctor has faced the Daleks three times.  Dear Steven Moffatt: please give the Daleks a rest for a while.  Yes, we love the Daleks.  We love to hate the Daleks.  But there is such a thing as too much Dalek.  I'm sure Terry Nation's estate is eating all this up like gangbusters but it's simply over-saturating the Doctor Who mythos right now.  I wouldn't mind if the entirety of next season was without a Dalek story.  If there is one, then the only way it could merit that is if it had the return of Davros... and even that would have to be pretty gosh-darned worth it.

So for the Twelfth Doctor's sophomore outing what do we get, but a Dalek episode.

I thought "Into the Dalek" was a fairly good episode, but as I said it just came too soon.  And this goes to the second reason why I say that.  It's because Peter Capaldi needs to "earn some flying time" before taking on the Doctor's oldest and greatest adversaries.  He's still showing us that he really does have the chops to fight the classic bad guys, and not just the Daleks but also the Cybermen and the Weeping Angels and all of that lot.  But I will also say that "Into the Dalek" is the first episode that gives us the Twelfth Doctor in all his magnificent glory... and I think that it will only get better.

"Into the Dalek" receives 3 and 1/2 sonic screwdrivers.  With most of the deductions going for, I say again, that it comes too soon in Capaldi's reign.  Here's hoping that Moffatt and crew will recognize this and lay off the Daleks for a spell.

And then there's this weekend's entry "Robot of Sherwood".

This was a total hoot of a story to watch!  Not the least of which is that the chemistry is getting better and better between Clara and the Twelfth Doctor.  In "Robot of Sherwood" she really does come across as having accepted that this actually, seriously is the Doctor that she once knew with Matt Smith's face.  It's not just her playing alongside a different actor carrying the name now.  "Robot of Sherwood" I think marks the true beginning of the dynamic between the Twelfth Doctor and Clara.  We see that in the first scene when the Doctor asks Clara where she wants to go and she gleefully replies Sherwood Forest in the time of Robin Hood.  Which of course, the Doctor knows wasn't real.

Or was it?

Without spoiling it for anyone who hasn't watched it yet, "Robot of Sherwood" was just plain rollickin' fun to behold.  Capaldi gets to show us a more action-oriented Twelfth Doctor, maybe even a Doctor that we have rarely seen embrace the role quite so vigorously.  The archery scene is hilarious.  And the revelation of what is really going on was quite satisfying.  I thought that there was quite a bit of "Robot of Sherwood" that hearkened to "State of Decay" from Tom Baker's Fourth Doctor era.  And that's not a bad thing either.

I'm going to give "Robot of Sherwood" a score of 4 sonic screwdrivers.  And I'm going to note that if this episode is any indication, the production and the writing for the Twelfth Doctor's time is getting better with each new story.  It's going to be a lot of fun to see what is going to transpire throughout the rest of the season.  But please, Steven Moffatt: NO MORE DALEKS FOR AWHILE!

(But I won't mind an extra helping of Strax, if you won't mind :-)

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Things taking shape

I'm rather enjoying blogging about writing a book, even though there has been a severe deficit in blogging about everything else.  Mark it up to pouring all of my writing energies into composing manuscript.  This is something that I have spent most of my waking hours doing, with varying degrees of activity, since May.  And now on the tail end of August I can look with some pride at more than 66,000 words of text composed for my little tome about having bipolar disorder.

I'm finally seeing the shape of it forming, coming together.  But there's still a lot of work to do.

My target is between 75,000 and 100,000 words.  And as I've been writing this the scope of it has shifted from my original intent.  There is now much more autobiographical information within it than I had initially thought would be included.  And I don't know if that's a good thing.  But friends I have shared that sentiment with have told me that anyone can read (or write) a textbook about manic-depressive illness, but only I can write about what bipolar has done to me personally.  I'm the only one who can convey the real pain and frustration that this disease brings with it.

So if you guys won't mind reading the life story of Robert Christopher Knight, I guess you will get to do that.

Things are still moving around though, and I don't know how much they will continue to do that.  There have been a lot of chapters that had false starts and wound up deleted.  Other chapters have been consolidated with each other.  There are a few that I'm considering tearing out completely.  I wouldn't be surprised if this book ended up radically different from how I first envisioned it to be.

I do have an ending for it, however.  It eluded me for the longest time but how to wrap it all up finally hit me earlier this week.  And the title has changed by one word.  Two if you count the subtitle.

And Lord willing, my first book will be completed by the end of this coming month.  And then we shall see what we will see...

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When God gives you what you want more than anything else...

I'm not the same man that I used to be.  Not since I was finally given that which I have wanted most of all.

For a very long time, and we are dealing with years, there is something that has been on my heart more than anything else.  Something I have longed for.  Something I have not actually wanted, but needed.

I needed it more than I needed any other element that could possibly lay within the boundaries of my life.  I needed it so much that it was no matter of satiation of desire for the sake of happiness, but rather something that I required to have, for since longer than I can readily remember, a sense of life itself.

It was the thing that I had prayed to God, more than anything else, that He would let it happen.

Two weeks ago I was experiencing a very deep bout of depression.  The medication wasn't working as well as it should have.  Neither was anything else.  In such times I turn often to prayer, to reading from my Bible (especially the Book of Job and the Psalms), to focusing on some shred of happy thoughts.  Anything that can give me something to grasp hold of and climb up and out with.

It wasn't just the clinical depression, however.  There was a certain situation that had come about, how I'm still not quite clear on how it happened.  But it brought me into contact with that which had been what I had endured a tremendous amount of suffering.  The thing that I had prayed to God about for so long.

Once again, I asked Him to bring whatever He would know best for it.  So that I might at last know how to go on living.

That was on Sunday and Monday.  On Tuesday I had an appointment with my counselor.  I shared with her everything that I had been going through, including my prayers to God.  Especially how it was that I didn't know if He was listening, because I had been praying for so long to Him and it was like He didn't care.

I came home at 1:30 that afternoon.

It was about 6 that night when I checked my messages and was startled to find something awaiting me.

And at long last, after needing it, after crying for it, after praying for it for so very long, I have that which I have wanted more than anything else.

I have closure.

I can move forward with my life with no regrets now.

Except that I've gone so long with needing this, it became the focus of my earthly life.  And now that need has been fulfilled.  I don't have my heart burdened by it.  I am finally free.  God set me loose from that bondage: the captivity of a desperate heart.

And now, I don't know what to do.  It's like the song says, "I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same."

The book is the biggest thing that I'm concentrating on right now, but I've no doubt that this is going to impact it.  It has to.  But, I think it will be in a good way.  The chapter that I had finished and was previously the most difficult (before I started working on the suicide one), I've let a longtime and trusted friend read it.  It has to do with an aspect of bipolar disorder that does not get a lot of discussion.  My friend read it and she gave it her hearty approval.  If I can write about something so intimate and it can pass muster with my friends, I think that the rest of what I'm working on will be more than okay.

Other than that, I don't know what the heck it is that I need to do, or even want to do.  Not even things that I've long been interested in seem to sparkle anymore.  I know there were some serious developments on the Star Wars front this past week but they don't faze me.  And I don't know why that is.

Maybe I'm growing up.  Or growing more.

I suppose I'll just have to now wait for God to present something new to me.

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Regarding Robin Williams...

It was a grim irony that last night, when Dad told me that the news had just broke that Robin Williams was dead, I was working on my book and the chapter on suicide.

I haven't blogged very much lately.  It's because I've been devoting myself to writing my book about bipolar.  I'm going to take time to post some more fun stuff soon (we do have the return of Doctor Who coming up after all).  But this is something that put a lot on my heart and I was feeling led to get it out of me and into a blog post this morning.

Robin Williams was a huge part of my childhood and adolescence years and then on through early adulthood.  He may have had the widest spectrum of acting talent of our generation.  Good Morning Vietnam comes especially to mind: an amazing display of Williams' repertoire with comedy and drama.  Dead Poets Society and Awakenings solidified his dramatic presence.  Later on in his career he pulled off some astoundingly dark work, in such films as One Hour Photo and Insomnia.  But it was always his comedic work that will be remembered most.  Just as an aside, when our local theatre guild was mounting its production of Peter Pan earlier this summer, I had Steven Spielberg's Hook playing in the background often as I worked on my book and other projects.  If Peter Pan was going to be portrayed as a grown-up, there was virtually nobody else who could have pulled that off than Robin Williams.

The man was an engine of innovation and creativity.  And now it looks like the price to pay for that was only too high.

Depression is something that unless you have it, you can't understand it. And I have not met anyone with it who has wished depression on anybody else, for however brief a time, just so they can "get" what this is like.  I have also never met anyone with depression who seriously wanted to die.  I don't think Robin Williams wanted to die either.  He was just trying not to feel the absence of feeling.  I know that doesn't make sense to some, but those with depression will understand all too well.

1 out of 5 people - at least - with bipolar disorder will attempt suicide and too many will succeed.  I am one of those who has tried, though I didn't realize it at the time that it's what I meant to do.  I was just wanting there to be an end to the pain.  What caused me to fail in that attempt?  That's something I'm writing about in my book right now.  It's something that I'm still exploring, actually.  In a very horrible way I was trying to feel something, as opposed to wanting to escape life completely.

Winston Churchill had depression: he called it his "black dog". I have a name for my own depression: "the dark fountain". It erupts when I am manic. It erupts worse when I'm depressed.  It smothers and suffocates and leaves you desperate for the tiniest breath of hope.  And when there is no hope you become desperate to escape, and more often than not it's without any real understanding of what it is that you are doing.

I know.  I've been there.

This is something that can't be "switched off" and medication often BARELY keeps it in check.

With someone as creative and passionate as Robin Williams, I can only imagine the intensity of his depression.

Just some thoughts that I'm having this morning.

Thoughts and prayers going out to his family.

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I never want to have to do that again

I just finished writing the very most difficult chapter of the book yet.  No doubt it will be the hardest of the book when it's all finished.

Lord willing that this is published, you will know which chapter it is when you read it.

I am really opening myself up here.  With things that I would have never imagined I would be writing about, not in a million years.  But, there it is.

I've spent the better part of two months working on this one chapter, on and off.  Now it's done.  I'm going to go watch The LEGO Movie again now and distance my mind from this thing.

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