I have written 4 out of 23 prompts for next week's planned ficspam. If I write 3 a day from now until Wednesday, I still won't finish them all. Go me.
I'm going for "readable" as a goal these days, though perhaps "finished" would be more in line with my current abilities. I write and write, and I finish nothing. I lose faith in everything.
What have I written this year that's any good? "The Co-Conspirators", really short. The Buffy/Wesley and Giles/Anya pieces I wrote for

Mr P says two problems are likely: I'm working on projects that don't make me happy (aka the "wrong things") and probably I need to clear the junk out of my skull by taking up the morning pages habit. Or the sudden fiction habit.
I also think work stress post-traumatic-corporate-event is contributing. I need that Balzackian tranquility to do my thinking, maybe.
Oh, lord, I'm sorry about all the whining. Possibly I should delete before posting.
That's enough of that. I just ate a medjool date, and it was awesome. How are you on dates? Do your loved one's attributes remind you of clusters of them?
CB I Hate Perfume Cedarwood Tea is exactly what the label says, and the most tea-like scent I've ever worn. And it makes me sneeze. I will either use it to scent my clothing drawers or give it away. But I'll be trying his Russian Caravan Tea next, because that tea scent should be killer sans the cedar.
Random: The Typealyzer says this blog is ESFP. Bwahahahahahahahaha(h). In person, when given Myers-Briggs tests, I turn out INTJ and occasionally INTP. Snort. Mr P points out, though, that I work conscientiously to be more extroverted in my interactions here in fandom.