I can't write. Like, at all. I read stuff
like this, by
quigonejinn, and realize how very much I suck. That punch to the gut? Yeah, haven't perfected that yet. Maybe if I write another 500,000 words, I will. Maybe. And maybe Santa will leave me that pony I've always wanted in my back yard this Christmas.
In other news, the Marvel peeps on my flist need to go watch
this vid, right the hell now. Seriously, I'll wait.
Okay, are you back? I am in total awe. Are you in awe? I'm in awe.
And now, speaking of writing. It's not going to write itself, is it? And even if it sucks and it's a waste of time and I should be doing something else, those 500 words aren't going to appear out of thin air, so I should just do it and be done. *eyes clock in story* Yeah, they could be getting a phone call just any time.
Or maybe not. Maybe the Bad Guy just shows up on not!Tony's doorstep with an army and starts beating the doors down. Would he make the mistake of calling first? "Hey, there, not!Tony. I'm coming over to kick your ass. Can you squeeze me in between your four and four-thirty appointments? Thanks."
ETA: There's a teeny little snippet in the comments, for anyone who cares.