uggh. I just lamented in my LJ. I hit that point where I'm embarassed about every word I've written and sorry I put any hopes and/or dreams in it.

Right about time. Halfway through. Can barely keep my head on straight I'm so sad about it.

I hate this part of writing. It's even worse than a block.

wrod. kfkd. At least that's what Anne Lamott calls it Radio K-Fucked. long-time listener, occasional caller.

I just went and reread the chapter. Seriously, I'd rather have a block than "I AM SHIT" on a continuous loop in my head.

Allyson, it may be time to step away from it. You are smart and funny and you can write - you may just need some time away from it to refresh your perspective.

Gotta push through, it's due October 1st.

Due to who, Allyson?

Agent Kate!

Ah. If you need more time to make it right (or take a step back), though, she'll understand.

My advice is to stop rereading it and push through, just to get it out, but also to take more time with it if you need to.

I need some help with UK geography in terms of where container ships pull into port, how far from Liverpool, and how far Liverpool is from Buckingham Palace. Anyone feeling helpful?

Sorry, I've been MIA. Typo and Sail, loved your drabbles.

Contact

Screaming had died down, and they hadn’t found him. Yet. He harbored no illusions that they wouldn’t. Fuck this government and its shoot-first-and-then-shoot-second mentality. Not that he had any say. Or rights.

A soft droning in the distance grew louder.

They’d come in peace. Giant bees, so what. Yeah. Didn’t count on their fuckin’ warships. Or their wacky abilities.

The din increased. He could see the fluttering shadows. A razor sharp tendril phased through the cell bars.

Nothing to use as a weapon, not even on himself. Fuck.

It reached out and through him. Tickled a little. At first.