I would definitely want to run it by her first
That's what I was thinking.
And hey, when did Squeak become Farrowen?
Aren't they something. They're like butterflies, or little pieces of wrapping paper blowing around.
Kaylee ,'Shindig'
The Great Write Way, Chapter Two: Twice upon a time...
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Amy - Aug 25, 2005 5:58:44 pm PDT #3722 of 10001
Because books.
deborah grabien - Aug 25, 2005 6:05:31 pm PDT #3723 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
And hey, when did Squeak become Farrowen?
When she began stalking and pouncing on thigs as big as her head. Farrowen is a goddess of the hunt.
She is Bree's cat, too, so there's that, as well.
SailAweigh - Aug 25, 2005 6:05:35 pm PDT #3724 of 10001
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb
translates to running it by her, getting a sure show me response, and going from there.
That sounds very good. Especially since you're the one pitching the proposal. We don't have to do any real work. ;P
deborah grabien - Aug 25, 2005 6:08:36 pm PDT #3725 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
mrmphm. Nervous.
My angelic David Evangelista has given my pitch to Erika at CBS, and made gung ho noises at her. CBS has been pitched. Whether they decide yea or nay, it's in process.
Nervous........
Amy - Aug 25, 2005 6:29:20 pm PDT #3726 of 10001
Because books.
CBS has been pitched.
Oooh! Fingers crossed.
Drabble #72: Dancing
He offers his white-gloved hand, and she takes it, trembling. She wants to close her eyes, pretend that she is alone on the hard-packed floor of the kitchen in her bare feet, humming to herself. But then she wouldn’t feel the heat in his gaze, see his smile as they move together with the music, swept up into the tune like a leaf on the breeze.
Her delicate glass slippers rap against the polished floor, tapping out each moment she has left in this crowded, sparkling room, in this borrowed gown, abandoning herself to the fleeting joy of the dance.
askye - Aug 25, 2005 6:30:09 pm PDT #3727 of 10001
Thrive to spite them
These are my lessons:
Back back side- together
Hi, my name is…you are … I’m…new.
I don’t know the rhythm. I only know to start with my right foot.
Back back side- together.
I’m a student….sort of…this is ..hard.
The instructor marks the beats: slow slow quick-quick
Change partners and try again:
Slow slow quick-quick
I’m Allison. I’m new…um….
I’m stiff and struggling to follow the steps. Follow the lead.
Everyone dances around me effortlessly. Lead and follow across the floor.
promenade, rock step, turn
Conversations and relationships.
I start again.
slow slow quick- quick
I’m Allison. I just started taking lessons.
deborah grabien - Aug 25, 2005 6:41:06 pm PDT #3728 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Oh, man, nice nice nice drabbles on this one.
I think I need to write a pornish one.
Astarte - Aug 25, 2005 8:44:41 pm PDT #3729 of 10001
Not having has never been the thing I've regretted most in my life. Not trying is.
Very nice drabbles.
I'm all filled with writing business and marketing plans at the moment, but hopefully the dancing drabble I feel tugging at the edges of my mind will assert itself soon.
Connie Neil - Aug 26, 2005 4:36:49 am PDT #3730 of 10001
brillig
An anthology of drabbles? That could be cool.
deborah grabien - Aug 26, 2005 6:23:04 am PDT #3731 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Do you know how hard it is to type erotica with one hand? Jive kitten...
Belly Dance
It starts out slow: here are the rhythms, set early on. The slow movement of eye meeting eye, dilation of pupils, recognition - no backbeat yet, just the bass, the first movements into motion.
Into your arms, drumbeats, BOOMboom, setting the temp for hands and hips. Lips, tongue, hands, it's the guitar, setting the midrange, Chuck Berry, swamp dancing.
Legs give way, freefall, belly to belly, five beats, Bo Diddley, bumpdebumpdebump, pause, bebumpBUMP, and here's the piano, all eighty-eighty keys, from the thunder of the low end to the tiara trill of coupling.
Play on, baby. Let the dance begin.