Well, I'm beginning to think about starting new fics.
I SHOULDN'T, given that I have literally half a dozen fics I could be writing (I wish I was kidding), but... this is a good sign. If I'm actually willing to put words to paper, rather than just doodling and screwing around in my head, it means my ability to focus is returning and my interest in doing New Things is picking back up.
Meanwhile, the oneshot I'm trying to work on, which might as well be codenamed Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies (and which I would honestly think about naming it if it wasn't Serious Business), is nearly at the 3,000-word mark. I'm estimating 6,000-7,000 words. Seven characters have died, two others had their passing mentioned, others are implied to have died off-screen, one has turned into an deranged alcoholic, another is effectively catatonic, one is beginning to resemble an eldritch horror, one has gone much too quiet, and the POV character is - understandably - beginning to get suicidal.
...Jeez, when I put it like that, it sounds so morose. But it's all supposed to be backstory/set-up for
[MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE ONESHOT (if I ever get to it)]
driving the POV character to summon the Devil Himself as a giant Reset Button for reality. Yes, this is why I was crowing about being able to name-drop the Grand Grimoire a while back
.
...Yeah. This is beginning to resemble some sort of unintentionally hilarious personality-analysis meme on how two people write out the exact same sequence of events. ...*cracks up* You don't UNDERSTAND! I'm not even SAD while I'm writing this! The premise is supposed to be hurt/comfort - it's just, apparently, that the way my brain plots out hurt/comfort is HURT/comfort!
It's just so ridiculous... and I'm going to be harping even harder on the sorrow and angst for the endgame. This is either going to rend the heartstrings of the readers or it's going to be the most ludicrously overdone misery-porn ever dumped on the fandom. Possibly both.
I love being alive. :D
Meanwhile, the oneshot I'm trying to work on, which might as well be codenamed Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies (and which I would honestly think about naming it if it wasn't Serious Business), is nearly at the 3,000-word mark. I'm estimating 6,000-7,000 words. Seven characters have died, two others had their passing mentioned, others are implied to have died off-screen, one has turned into an deranged alcoholic, another is effectively catatonic, one is beginning to resemble an eldritch horror, one has gone much too quiet, and the POV character is - understandably - beginning to get suicidal.
...Jeez, when I put it like that, it sounds so morose. But it's all supposed to be backstory/set-up for
[MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE ONESHOT (if I ever get to it)]
driving the POV character to summon the Devil Himself as a giant Reset Button for reality. Yes, this is why I was crowing about being able to name-drop the Grand Grimoire a while back
.
...Yeah. This is beginning to resemble some sort of unintentionally hilarious personality-analysis meme on how two people write out the exact same sequence of events. ...*cracks up* You don't UNDERSTAND! I'm not even SAD while I'm writing this! The premise is supposed to be hurt/comfort - it's just, apparently, that the way my brain plots out hurt/comfort is HURT/comfort!
It's just so ridiculous... and I'm going to be harping even harder on the sorrow and angst for the endgame. This is either going to rend the heartstrings of the readers or it's going to be the most ludicrously overdone misery-porn ever dumped on the fandom. Possibly both.
I love being alive. :D