Perkins rocks *harder* than Joan Jett.
We're in love. We're ... lovers. We're lesbian, gay-type lovers.
Willow ,'Potential'
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 - Jan 26, 2008 1:59:29 pm PST #9695 of 10001
Because books.
Lee - Jan 27, 2008 6:50:57 am PST #9696 of 10001
The feeling you get when your brain finally lets your heart get in its pants.
Awww.
Okay, the prompt for today is almost there.
I'm going to post this in the GWW LJ as well.
Liese S. - Jan 27, 2008 7:51:05 am PST #9697 of 10001
"Faded like the lilac, he thought."
Ooh, that's a good one.
Susan W. - Jan 27, 2008 8:44:20 pm PST #9698 of 10001
Good Trouble and Righteous Fights
I just passed p. 200 in my WIP, ~45,000 words by computer count.
Woo! This thing might actually become a book!
Laga - Jan 27, 2008 9:00:45 pm PST #9699 of 10001
You should know I'm a big deal in the Resistance.
go Susan!
Amy - Jan 29, 2008 3:43:16 pm PST #9700 of 10001
Because books.
Drabble for "almost there."
She can’t bring herself to throw the calendar away, but she doesn’t look at it anymore. It hangs inside the pantry, facing the creamed corn and the laundry bluing.
There are few ways to pass the time. (“I’m not sure children will be possible.” Solemn physician’s face in the pale light.) She’s started baking. Watching the bread rise through the oven window, she doesn’t think about him, where the fighting is, or the things she can’t give him when (if) he comes home.
The top of the bread is buttery gold now. “Almost there,” she whispers.
Laga - Jan 29, 2008 3:50:23 pm PST #9701 of 10001
You should know I'm a big deal in the Resistance.
that is beautiful
Amy - Jan 29, 2008 4:05:09 pm PST #9702 of 10001
Because books.
Thanks!
javachik - Jan 29, 2008 4:29:55 pm PST #9703 of 10001
Our wings are not tired.
Very nice, Amy! You've inspired me to try one.
javachik - Jan 29, 2008 4:30:05 pm PST #9704 of 10001
Our wings are not tired.
The soft thud of the wheels hitting the runway woke Lee Ann and she stirred and twisted her head to take in what the window had to offer. It wasn’t much, the warm gray Hilo drizzle shrouding the scene, but she could see the tips of coconut trees reaching up through the mist. She tugged at her sweater, pulled it over her head and caught a glance of her pale skin and smiled.
Home. It had been 43 years, but she was almost there.