Wash ,'Bushwhacked'
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Heh, deb. I was just thinking about that. Something about the medium, I suppose. I had become aware that I didn't like anything I'd written that wasn't autobiographical. I mean, drabbled, specifically.
And then it has to do with the themes, too, doesn't it. Memory, sense, hands. Those are all very personal things, very intimate.
Liese, yup. Drabble as therapy, or catharsis: I really do love that.
A big "Go you!" for the wife!!
The wife curtsies and pumps her fist in recognition.
I wish they'd send the damned cover to Amazon for upload, already. They haven't even uploaded it to the online catalogue yet. But it's there in the print version.
I have trouble doing fiction this short. I get obsessed with back story and set-up. If I throw "I" up there first, though, all that's done for me, even if it could be the wildest fiction to the rest of you.
And I have, in my hot little hand, the Minotaur fall catalogue, and "Famous Flower" has its own page, and the cover, and it's superb. Same theme was "Weaver"'s, but instead of the page being lifted to reveal the haunted building in the lower right, this one looks like a jagged tear, to reveal the theatre in the lower left.
Sounds fantastic.
Can't wait to have it in my grubby little paws. WooooooHoooooooo!
Astarte, I just sat on the NYC subway system, holding it in my own hands and beaming like a loon.
Inspired by a post of meara's in LJ. I hope it's not too opaque:
It's simpler sleeping inside, now that she's closed. He'd always enjoyed the irony, with all the energy he could spare from being cold, poor and miserable. Irony was all he had left, and it wasn't enough to keep him going anymore.
He'd tried to make a go of it, lose his telltale paperwork, disappear into a new and better world. Better world. Everyone said so.
Ahh, sweet irony. The laugh became a cough, and then fell into shivers.
He rolled over, clutching threadbare wool against a New York winter. Huddled, wretched refuse indeed. So much for yearning to breathe free.
Wow. ita, that one stings.
I like that, ita.