WHAT I DID DURING MY SUMMER--NO, SCRATCH THAT.
Actually, I spent Snowzilla 2010 curled up on the couch with my shiny new baby laptop, writing fic, as one does.
I have this J2 story that's been languishing since April 16, 2008.
Finally finished a whole mess of connecting stuff and wrote what I happen to think is a pretty hot sex scene.
Of course, the boys aren't done struggling through their crisis yet, so their "morning-after" argument could be best summed up like this:
JENSEN: YOU SAID THAT YOU WERE MINE, THAT YOU’D ALWAYS BEEN MINE.
JARED: I WAS CAUGHT UP IN THE MOMENT. ALSO, HELLO, ABOUT TO GET LAID, NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANYTHING I SAID.
JENSEN: FUCKER.
*snerk*
Anyway, it is now, basically, about two scenes from FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED, at which point I will give myself permission to start the SPN / Leverage crossover AU that's been tickling my fancy.
And the SGA Eighties high school McShep is now, also, only about one, possibly two, chapters away from an ending, yay! And then I can start the White Collar apocalyptic futurefic that I dreamed up the other night while under the influence of far too much Bailey's Irish Cream.
What can I say. Whiskey, apparently, not only makes me angry . . . it makes me write apocafic.
Go figure.
As long as I'm writing, I don't fucking care.
I'm so embarrassed that it takes me so long to finish anything. I'm way too easily distracted by shiny new ideas, and unfortunately for me, the way I write has always been dependent upon inspiration rather than perspiration, so if the muses fuck off for vacation in Tahiti, I'm fucked, too.
Let's hope this little spate of productivity continues for a bit, shall we?
I have this J2 story that's been languishing since April 16, 2008.
Finally finished a whole mess of connecting stuff and wrote what I happen to think is a pretty hot sex scene.
Of course, the boys aren't done struggling through their crisis yet, so their "morning-after" argument could be best summed up like this:
JENSEN: YOU SAID THAT YOU WERE MINE, THAT YOU’D ALWAYS BEEN MINE.
JARED: I WAS CAUGHT UP IN THE MOMENT. ALSO, HELLO, ABOUT TO GET LAID, NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANYTHING I SAID.
JENSEN: FUCKER.
*snerk*
Anyway, it is now, basically, about two scenes from FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED, at which point I will give myself permission to start the SPN / Leverage crossover AU that's been tickling my fancy.
And the SGA Eighties high school McShep is now, also, only about one, possibly two, chapters away from an ending, yay! And then I can start the White Collar apocalyptic futurefic that I dreamed up the other night while under the influence of far too much Bailey's Irish Cream.
What can I say. Whiskey, apparently, not only makes me angry . . . it makes me write apocafic.
Go figure.
As long as I'm writing, I don't fucking care.
I'm so embarrassed that it takes me so long to finish anything. I'm way too easily distracted by shiny new ideas, and unfortunately for me, the way I write has always been dependent upon inspiration rather than perspiration, so if the muses fuck off for vacation in Tahiti, I'm fucked, too.
Let's hope this little spate of productivity continues for a bit, shall we?