Before I started my novel, even before I had even the smallest semblance of a plot worked out, I had one goal in mind: I want to kill my main character off in the first chapter. I figured that doing so would force me to come up with a plot of some sort, simply to work around the fact that my main focus of the novel would cease to exist before Chapter Two.

It is then, with sadness, that I announced the death of Greg Ryder. He passed away on Sunday, May 2^nd, at about the 5000 word mark. Friend. Son. Couch Insurance Salesman.

Greg survived an elaborate scheme put in place by Fate to cause his death by way of fried eggs and a pizza delivery. Barely escaping demise by that manner, he was sadly gunned down by the love of his life on the way back to his office.

He is survived by a Donald Duck desk clock, and a rat with a weakness for Frosted Flakes.

Please join me in a silent moment of reflection, as well as a longer moment of "what the hell am I going to do with my novel now?"