Jan. 29th, 2007

stillsostrange: (Bowie)
So, as I was falling asleep last night, Alex gave me the first line for the angsty-global-warming-dead-girls-mirror-bowie-brain-spore story. Today, after a little poking and riffling through Eliot, we have a title. And then [livejournal.com profile] tanaise figured out what my bad guy was. Houston, we have story.

"Music From a Farther Room"
Words today: 1257
Words total: 1257
Reason for stopping: out of steam
Tyop: She arched any eyebrow. With my characters, that's what it feels like. Any and all eyebrows must be arched.
Darling: Alex found his wife waiting on the threshold, at the divide between memory and dream. and The rain had died to a fitful sputter, and the December sky was the color of carbon paper, greying softly in the east. He frowned--did anyone remember carbon paper anymore?
Mean things: Angst, angst, and more angst. Also, see research.
Research: Scotch, and how it might be effected by global warming. In my 2017, flooding in the UK has played hell with the price of a good Laphroaig.
Quirks: Is Mr. Bitter McAngstPants still wearing his wedding ring? He won't tell me.
Juryrigging: It is crazy weird writing a story in the future. It makes me guess at the endings for novels I haven't even started yet. Also, it's pretty damn spoilerific for them. This is also the story I owe [livejournal.com profile] copperwise, in which I kill her horribly.

I think it's official--Alex is my favorite boy. My love for him will see me through the dark times ahead, when I finally rewrite Dreams.

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