Honey, I think no one expects a woman in a chair to take a meeting at the drop of a hat - that's all done phone/internet anyway.

I wonder about maybe submitting something to a few places. Not necessarily the networks, but the smaller market and maybe even the local cable nets. Once a piece gets aired, you get seriously looked at.

No idea if it's feasible, or if you'd want to - just saying this level of being able to stay purely in the character's voice is rare, rare, rare.

I didn't know I had it. Aside from being able to "be" my mother so well, I can confuse her oldest friends. But that's genetics and proximity. I mean, my writing teachers always liked my dialogue, but I never felt like that was anything all that special.Until I found ff.net and read dialogue that would make the baby Jesus cry. That was bitchy, huh?But not as bitchy as if I did what I wanted and posted "Oh, honey, no!" a la Karen Walker.It might be worth a try. As far as "feasible" nothing in my life this far has been considered "feasible", pretty much. But sometimes I do it anyway.

I am all about the doing it anyway, including walking when they told me I wouldn't. Ass 'em in the ear, with the "you can't".

See, I think I can recognise that particular ability (pure character voice without dilution) because it's an ability I emphatically do not possess.

Wow, I'm verklempt. This is where the guys would start picking on each other, huh? "You're just saying that to get in my pants." There. All better. :)

Oh, I don't flatter about writing, not ever. That's a 100% doesn't ever change given: if I'm eh about the work or the writer, I'll make a vague noise when asked and change the subject. If I actively dislike the work or the writer, look for total silence. If I like it but something makes me jump, I'll say precisely that. And if I love, well, see the last 50 or so posts right here in this here thread.

I'm very uncomplicated. What you see and what you hear is what you get and how I feel.

Deb, that right there is what I love about you. You're the real deal.

(and smoochies back to Fay, who is under strictest injunction to hug and kiss Roz for me, because Roz - who has already been given the reciprocal injunction - will certainly hug and kiss you right back.)

wrod.(Well, I kind of guessed, but just thought that the conversation came a little too close to Loving And Sharing, after all the murder, mayhem, and tortured souls. I was only teasing.)

That's a 100% doesn't ever change given: if I'm eh about the work or the writer, I'll make a vague noise when asked and change the subject. If I actively dislike the work or the writer, look for total silence. If I like it but something makes me jump, I'll say precisely that. And if I love, well, see the last 50 or so posts right here in this here thread.

That is so good to know; it makes your comments more valuable.

I'm waiting for one more beta on my Anya story, but I think it's ready for posting here. It'll be 5 parts...

Five Things That Never Happened to Anya

Summary: Two deaths, three men, and five ways Anya's life could have unfolded.
Rating: PG-13 or so.
Pairings: Aud/Olaf, Anya/Giles, Anya/Xander.
Spoilers: It's AU, but it spoils through the end of S7.
Author's notes: The characters are not mine. The dialogue at the top of each section is taken from the Buffy: The Vampire Slayer episodes "Selfless" (sections 1 and 4), "Dopplegangland" (section 2), "Tabula Rasa" (section 3), and "End of Days" (section 5). Thanks to all the great "Five Things" writers who inspired this, and to Erika and Vesica for the betas.

1. My Perfect Aud

"You are my perfect Aud. I could never want for another."

He told her that, and stroked her face, and for a moment it was good.

But it all evaporated like dew when Rannveig walked by, singing in a voice made painfully off-key by drunkenness. Olaf strained towards the door, humming an echo of her song.

"You love her, don't you?," Aud asked softly.

His lips denied it, but his face told the truth. Olaf was many things, but he was not a good liar. She lay stiff in his sleeping arms for a long time that night.

The next day, Aud passed the point in the river where the women drew water on her way to get more greens for her rabbits. Rannveig was there, gossiping and laughing with her friends. Their voices got a little lower and their laughter a little louder as Aud walked by, one telltale finger marking her out. Not like us, their postures seemed to say. Aud quickened her steps.

When she got to the meadow, she gathered a handful of the clover that kept her bunnies happy and fat. But she noticed another plant, a prickly one with tiny yellow flowers. It was one her mother had shown her once, long ago, when she was a child, as part of her education on which twig or leaf or root was good for headache, and which one could soothe screaming babies.

"And this one," she said, "Use this one if your man ever does you wrong – which he will. Grind it up and cook it with his porridge and a drop of your blood, and it is a powerful magic." There was more, but Aud was mesmerized by the idea that something as small as this plant could create something as vast as justice.

She fed the preparation to him that night, hiding her cut finger in the folds of her skirt, her heart pounding and her body hot with anxiety. Would it work? Would he find out what she had tried?

But he glanced up at her in a way she hadn't seen in months. "No berries. I want you for dessert!," he roared, picking her up and carrying her to their bed. And the heat in her body then came from a different source, and she knew that the fidelis spell had taken hold.

After that night, she never did another magic, afraid it would tear apart what her last spell had put together. When she was buried some thirty years later, seven sons surrounded her grave, and five daughters bounced grandchildren and comforted the weeping Olaf. "I will never be complete again. Never!" he wailed, as his oldest child passed him handkerchief after handkerchief and his sons glanced at the ground and fiddled with their capes, not knowing what to do.

The villagers shied away. It was already odd enough that Olaf had been so faithful a partner, keeping himself for Aud even when he went to war. But this wailing made no sense, especially from a man, and one whose riches in land and rabbits would attract another, more desirable woman soon. Especially when one considered that Aud – well, she was pleasant enough, and free with rabbits and advice (a bit too free with the latter, some thought, but she always had been), and no one could deny that she had been a caring mother and a dutiful wife. But even when she was young and had full breasts, they found her a bit strange, not worthy of a partner such as Olaf.

It made no sense at all.