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November 23rd, 2008

11:49 am
Gyaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

So, yeah. I've scribbled seven thousand words this week. Yay. I realize that some people do this in a day, but this is me and over a thousand words a day is a big deal, all right?

Of course, this amount of output means that, now that I'm home, it's come to a complete and utter STOP.

Part of this is because the end game that was coming together for me? Has fallen apart. In large part because my characters aren't morons, so they're doing this at the lab rather than not!Tony's house (duh!)--but also because not!Tony has given my putative Bad Guy his Complete Disclosure Speech on how hopeless the lady vamp's condition is and how this probably isn't going to work.

So. He's warned. Not!Tony is actually trying, which is a hell of a lot more than he's obligated to do under the circumstances.

I don't see where he has a right to come after not!Tony when the procedure fails. I could justify "insane with grief," I guess, although it seems really flimsy and he's just one werewolf and thus shouldn't be that hard to defeat, honestly.

Although if he goes after them one by one...

No, because that will raise my body count to unacceptable levels and I'll have to start killing off major characters and that won't do because while I've wandered all over several genres and probably beaten several conventions up and taken their lunch money, I'm not really willing to go all "monster of the week" and devolve into horror here.

Maybe the procedure doesn't fail. I need to ask myself (again) "What can go wrong?" The obvious answer is that the procedure fails and she dies right then and there. Maybe I should look for a less obvious answer...

02:28 pm
I wasn't going to, because...

Long snippet was long, but...

I have committed snippet-age.

Poor not!Tony. He's all sleep-deprived and now has to deal with a werewolf in the operating theater in his basement...

05:20 pm
OMG, y'all.

THERE'S AN ECHIDNA ON CUTE OVERLOAD.

SNORGLING A CAMERA.

There are not words in the universe enough to express my glee at this.

We now return you to your regularly-programmed whining about writing.