I'm inclined to leave the spoilerage outside, since it is a open to all comers thread.

Susan, tell 'em that if they get too nasty about your sex scene, you'll hurt them.

That works. And given that I don't think any of our books fade to black, I can always say something along the lines of blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy.

I can always say something along the lines of blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy.

Crack your knuckles and smile evilly at them as you say it....

I'm pleased. Despite prepping for big party at chez Grabien tomorrow night (Aimee and Kristin and Nicole and Sail and Bev and the Zmayhems and Sparky and Lee and Maidengurl and KatieB and Matt and Beth and mart and all kinds of cool people!), and despite one of the worst MS exacerbations I've had a damned long time, I managed about eight pages on Cruel Sister, and sent it out to my WIP readers.

I'm about 200 words shy of 70K. Book should be finished this coming week. And then I'm into London Calling at lightspeed. And also the submission piece about Patrick Ormand.

Debet, fic stuff is usually posted in the Buffista Fic thread.

I know. I only asked because it was a drabble to the challenge for the week

I just re-read the scene and made a few tweaks to get the new and improved Anna (Now With Consistent Motivation From One Chapter to the Next!) onto the page. I can't tell if it's hot and different or the most godawful clinical sex scene ever written. Guess that's why I have CPs. Bet I'll be sprinting straight to my computer at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow to see if the Pennsylvanian and the Australian have read and commented yet.

OK, I just realized there are at least two writers who've written worse sex scenes than this:

1. The La Femme Nikita fanfic Dana posts excerpts from.

2. Bill O'Reilly in that suspense novel people quoted the badsex from a year or two back.

So. This scene may be terrible. I just don't know. But it's not the worst ever.

t takes comfort

2. Bill O'Reilly in that suspense novel people quoted the badsex from a year or two back.

Oh, man. That was sooooooooooooooooooooooo horrid....

Another drabble, for Cindy really, just to show there isn't always gel on this particular lens.

The Powder Room, 1971

The after-gig party is always the same. New York, LA, London, San Francisco - no difference.

There's always someone backstage offering up a mirror and some blow. LA, might be a house up in Coldwater Canyon; San Francisco, maybe the studio owner's deck in the redwoods. NYC, who the fuck knows: always a door, always the hangers-on, always the white lines.

After the show, at some point, someone will get shy about it, and head into the loo. In the morning, someone will push that door open and find them, blue and cold, pants around their ankles, their fire out.

Oh deb, how sad.

And also the submission piece about Patrick Ormand.

The mind. It goes places it oughtn't.