me!me!me!me!

so my joe phillips fic just kind of passed out a nose length from the finish line. *sigh* I like it, but it's a couple of hundred words of nothing happening. *shrug* Like that's unusual.

I've got the end of Krypton boy, at least in my head, and Transference is trying hard to please, it's little forehead all wrinkled and wondering what Yer Mother is trying to say...

I spent all night long gathering stuff for this JazzAge thing. What do you think of East Of The Sun. Still thinking. I typed out 1500 words on it last night and this morning I'm all 'NAH.' scrap this shit. Clark. He's always so damn hard. Why do I keep turning him into a girl? *reeeech-pitooyie* I spit on NaNaClark.

Also, I keep changing directions--the more I write the less I know. For the good, I got my timeline nailed finally--1936 to 1939.

I think the fatal flaw here is I know dick about music, besides bobbing my neck to it, and be all off beat with it too. Does spending lots of late nights watching Fred Astaire movies count at all? *takes deep breath, thinks positive thoughts*

comment editing!

finally, something I really wanted! My notifications might be history, but hey! I can stop looking like a complete ass in comments now. *beams*