I wrote around 1200 words early this morning, resurrecting the dead pages. One scene came out better, I think, and the other one worse than their dead cousins, but it's a draft so that doesn't matter. I turned off all the lights and watched the snow falling and the night turned strawberry colored and wrote about the end of the world
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Pfagh, you are but the newest iteration in a long chain of disgrace. I personally have been named the Responsible Party for turning an innocent fantasy writer to the slash side of the fic simply by demanding (I was an editor then, I could demand things from writers) that she write smutty fanfic from the male character's POV.
I have, in certain circles of fandom, been beatified for this. *innocent blink*
And wasn't I supposed to do something to you if you kept talking? Does posting count?
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It's IM that distracts/annoys the hell out of me, not email/LJ.
Those wait quietly until I am ready for them. *g*)
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I'm still teaching my brain that mindset...
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Hee! It's like one of those infinity mirrors they used to sell at Spencer's Gifts (and maybe still do!).
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