January 22, 2019

We are writing today, chickies!

Don't ask me why I said that.

Apparently, the Rice Street Cinema’s usher was rated “R” for extreme violence and strong language. He displayed both as he tossed the 12-yr-old out on his ear. The manager made it a double feature.
The diminutive critic would not be fazed. “Yeah? Well, your popcorn’s stale!”
Anyway, I decided to postpone the 'fics for a while and get back to something I can actually get money for...maybe...someday in the far, far, fucking future...hopefully.

Wish me luck, I suppose? Anyone want to read a horror story that starts in the '70s?  I got through at least a chapter and a half before I realized that I was basically rewriting Monster Squad and chucked the whole fucker in rage.  Also, don't ask me why I picked a place I've never been to, but I can assure you it's not Maine.  😛

Or perhaps you're into bitter chicklit and cats?  I love cats, personally, but I've taken some inspiration from people who don't (along with being frustrated at my CW prof) and started a story that Lifetime would say doesn't have nearly enough Christmas or shenanigans in it.  I like this one better, and it got better reception in beta.

The office was square and beige, with furniture arranged on a grid.  The man behind the desk with the perfectly arranged blotter and beige computer immaculately dressed in a beige sweater and khakis could only be named Graham Blandish.  Marie generally tolerated him more than most of her coworkers, who were behind the prank that attempted to remove “-ish” from his nameplate.  Today, however, his monochrome condescension was just too much to take.

Anyway, I'm going to be posting more regular-ish things here.  I'll try to get away from overly-specific fanfic posts for three months in a row.   The tags are up there, anyway, back from when I used to ramble on about different subjects.

Back to getting distracted by emails   swearing at the screen  writing! 

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