antennapedia

Rare sunny day here in this wet wet El Niño spring. I have the French doors open from the bedroom onto our new deck. The deck is bare save for some builder's equipment, a yellow extension cord running across the wood and disappearing off to the side of the house. The fluffy cow cat has seated himself in the patch of sun in the right of the threshold. He's grooming. I'm in my writing armchair with my feet over one arm. Writing is happening.

I'm at over 6000 words of pure prose in this story, not counting outline, and wow, that's a lot of words for a story that's still in such a sketched-out state. But at least the prose is present and flowing and the world is now real in my head. Maybe it'll be done on time. Maybe it won't. Twice this length at least just to get the plotty stuff in place.

I wish I could be faster. I'm just not.

I'm also sucking at all my fannish obligations that are not writing this specific story. I owe beta feedback to several peeps (Dr Squiddy, you're tops of my list). I need to figure out what to do with giles_fic_recs, if anything. And there's another new comm I need to figure out if I can give the time it would deserve. But I don't really care about that other stuff if I can manage to get this story written. I think you'll enjoy reading it. I hope you will.

Sigh.

Ms Inky Blot has just arrived and taken over the doorway. Mr Cow cedes the door to her and curls up in the sunny patch at the base of their cat tree. She blinks at me and pads off. Time to write a vampire attack in a church at night. Stone and shadow.

Listen: Avenger, "Celestus". If "trance and progressive" had a dictionary entry, this track would be in it. Or maybe it's squarely uplifting. I'm such a sucker for the huge breakdowns.