Which one next? A poll
I was telling the husband at dinner that I was completely torn about which project to finish next. Well, the one I'll finish next will probably be a short thing for the Giles/Xander ficathon, due next week. But I can't decide among the other projects I have up in the air. They're all shiny. My mind is leaping from one to the other. I can't manage to work on one for even two nights in a row.
Mr P suggested that I roll dice to figure out which to work on next. Then I thought, hey, better than rolling dice: asking actual readers! The people I'm doing this for!
You can read excerpts from some of these to help you decide.
Note that the first three would probably be complete in the next week or two. The others would take longer.
Mr P suggested that I roll dice to figure out which to work on next. Then I thought, hey, better than rolling dice: asking actual readers! The people I'm doing this for!
You can read excerpts from some of these to help you decide.
Which project should Antenna finish next?
Ars Draconis part 3: Dragon's Heart (the sword one)
4(25.0%)
Post-Grave h/c tagfic (Giles/Buffy, the sweet newage one)
7(43.8%)
Tradition & Protocol part 1 (Giles/Buffy, the bodyart one)
2(12.5%)
"January Weekend", Giles/Ethan, story of how they met, in the universe of the Christian bond story
2(12.5%)
"Reconnection" part 3, even though I'm stuck on it and might take a while to figure it out
1(6.2%)
Note that the first three would probably be complete in the next week or two. The others would take longer.
Somebody put the Bowie on again, louder this time. Fourth time of playing, Giles thought.
"Bloody loud in here," said Ethan, leaning close to make himself heard.
"I've got a bottle of wine in my rooms," he said, blurting it out. Then he stuck his hands into his back pockets and said, more casually, "Drinkable, I think."
Ethan nodded, equally casual. "Let's go."
They extracted their coats from the pile at the door. Ethan had a peacoat. Giles had worn his motorcycle jacket, thinking to impress if he'd managed to get anybody to leave with him. Which he supposed he had, though not in the way he'd been hoping. No sense making goodbyes to their host in that din. Down the creaking stairs, out the front door, onto the street.
"Christ!" said Giles. It was pissing rain. Cold rain, nearly sleet, freezing in places on the street. He did the snaps at the neck of his leather jacket. Ethan buttoned his peacoat and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. The pair scurried through the wet streets, Giles leading the way to his tiny flat near his college. Barely worth the name, but it was what he let himself afford. He was trying not to think about leasing out the London house. Or selling it. It was a drain on him, though, keeping it up. The Council gave him a stipend, and he had some money from his father that he didn't want to touch. He wanted that house to be there when he finished his degrees. It felt like it was all he had left of his father.
He fumbled with nearly frozen fingers for his key, and let them both in. Even the chilly stairs felt like a refuge after the cold and the wet.
Don't do this for us; no matter how much we enjoy reading your fics, this is for you. Write what is working for you, not what you think we want.
I could just roll dice, I suppose :)