I can Deb.
Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins. Twenty years old. Born on the fourth of July — and don't think there weren't jokes about that my whole life, mister, 'cause there were. 'Who's our little patriot?' they'd say, when I was younger and therefore smaller and shorter than I am now.
Anya ,'Potential'
The Great Write Way
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Astarte - Aug 15, 2004 10:06:48 am PDT #6052 of 10001
Not having has never been the thing I've regretted most in my life. Not trying is.
deborah grabien - Aug 15, 2004 10:11:20 am PDT #6053 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Ro, on its way.
Beverly - Aug 15, 2004 10:12:16 am PDT #6054 of 10001
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
Thanks, Deb. I played with that, back and forth, and wasn't satisfied but decided to turn it loose anyway. I'll fix.
And I'd love to read your new scene.
deborah grabien - Aug 15, 2004 10:14:06 am PDT #6055 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
I'm trying to convince my yahoo to attach. May take a second...
Anne W. - Aug 15, 2004 10:15:29 am PDT #6056 of 10001
The lost sheep grow teeth, forsake their lambs, and lie with the lions.
Deb, I posted in Bitches to this effect already, but I'd love to take a look at the new scene.
deborah grabien - Aug 15, 2004 10:24:13 am PDT #6057 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Sent to all from gmail account, since yahoo is being a cow and not letting me attach anything.
Can you let me know if the attachment is, well, attached?
Sophie Max - Aug 15, 2004 10:54:29 am PDT #6058 of 10001
so, hi.
anyone mind if I play too? If there's a handy reference to the rules, feel free to send me to it. I get the topic, and that it's supposed to be short - I think this may be a tad long, I'll try and work on that.
Flight to Fort Good Hope
The pilot seemed too young. The plane seemed too old. The wind bellowed across the airstrip. She tugged up the hood of her parka and followed the pilot across the tarmac.
The plane rose up, and her stomach with it. She pressed her forehead against the window. The Mackenzie River meandered below, choked with ice in chunks, spring break-up only days earlier. If the plane went down, there would be no time to recover, only cold water, icy death.
And then the plane tilted down, ice cubes growing bigger. She stared, imagining her bright red parka adrift among the ice.
And then back up. The pilot looked back and grinned, shrugging an apology.
She reached for the barf bag.
Astarte - Aug 15, 2004 11:06:29 am PDT #6059 of 10001
Not having has never been the thing I've regretted most in my life. Not trying is.
backflung to the same address, Deb.
dcp - Aug 15, 2004 11:27:56 am PDT #6060 of 10001
The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know.
I like it, Sophie. Try to trim it to 100 words exactly, and see if it's better.
deborah grabien - Aug 15, 2004 11:49:21 am PDT #6061 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Heh. Very nicely done, Sophie, if a bit long for a straight drabble.
Astarte, backflung twice, bebe, and to Anne and Bev as well. I did a small change that I think makes a metric fuckload of difference. Will send.