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State Of The Roxy:
1/11/05 02:06 pmBllleeeerah.
Summer Story: big ole porn scene...stuck
Mike/Tom rps...stuck and possibly--crap.
Lindsey/Ri...eyeballing me like snakes
Three Things That Didn't Happen To Lex Luthor: Bruce is a bitch.
Today: hurts my heart.
and my little Beatleslash thing: mired in blech.
*sigh* So-- I'm writing all the time, but none of it is sticking to the page, nawmean? And it's making me just a little crabby and frustrated, because these great bit's of dialog pop into my head, but I can't flesh it out. GRRR. So I read, and then I try to write and then I wander around the house like a mini version of the Flying Dutchman, and stare at Mr. Roxy a lot. Until he gets nervous and throws me out of the room. Then I stare at the dog, but he's more laid back and tunes me out. Life can be difficult at times.
Mind you, all this angsting and whining is about my inability to write porn. Silly really. Ah well.
I think I should write something where-in all my WIP's take a bus to the seashore, have a lovely picnic on the beach. Play volleyball. Whit, and Sam and Clark and ooo! all covered in an oily sunblock because skin health first, you know...and Lex is stretched out on a blanket under an umbrella--redheads are so fairskinned and have to be careful *nods*...maybe Lindsey sitting there with him, which of course means Riley is jumping around on the sand with the boys-- big old muscles sliding around and...goodness. Yawn. Yer mother's tired now dears, think I'll have a little lie down. Go outside and play and don't worry if the bedroom door's locked.
Summer Story: big ole porn scene...stuck
Mike/Tom rps...stuck and possibly--crap.
Lindsey/Ri...eyeballing me like snakes
Three Things That Didn't Happen To Lex Luthor: Bruce is a bitch.
Today: hurts my heart.
and my little Beatleslash thing: mired in blech.
*sigh* So-- I'm writing all the time, but none of it is sticking to the page, nawmean? And it's making me just a little crabby and frustrated, because these great bit's of dialog pop into my head, but I can't flesh it out. GRRR. So I read, and then I try to write and then I wander around the house like a mini version of the Flying Dutchman, and stare at Mr. Roxy a lot. Until he gets nervous and throws me out of the room. Then I stare at the dog, but he's more laid back and tunes me out. Life can be difficult at times.
Mind you, all this angsting and whining is about my inability to write porn. Silly really. Ah well.
I think I should write something where-in all my WIP's take a bus to the seashore, have a lovely picnic on the beach. Play volleyball. Whit, and Sam and Clark and ooo! all covered in an oily sunblock because skin health first, you know...and Lex is stretched out on a blanket under an umbrella--redheads are so fairskinned and have to be careful *nods*...maybe Lindsey sitting there with him, which of course means Riley is jumping around on the sand with the boys-- big old muscles sliding around and...goodness. Yawn. Yer mother's tired now dears, think I'll have a little lie down. Go outside and play and don't worry if the bedroom door's locked.