I miss writing already.

this is probably my favourite martin/jawn face

What was it my dad once said? Oh yeah.

“Birds gotta bird. Fish gotta fish. Writers gotta write.”

Charlie, everyone.

At least he supported the fact that I wrote like a mad woman. He kept me in college ruled notebooks and Bic pens for YEARS and never said a word when I dropped everything to sit outside and write.


So—Drarry is in its binder, marinating. Fermenting? Whatever. It needed a time out so that I could come back to it with fresh eyes in a little bit.

In the meantime, I can not get the voices in my head to shut up.

I thought I was going to pick up an old Johnlock piece, then I thought maybe an old Marlas piece, or even the Shenny fic I started and promptly got sick of. (Het is boring, I guess.)


I’ve decided to start something original. NOT fan fic.

This ought to be fun. It’s been so long since I’ve written anything not controlled (to some part) by someone else that I’m not sure I can do it any more.

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