I spent the past couple of days edging the yard. It looks great, but since I don't have a weedwhipper, I did it all with this little hand held torture device. The yard looks great - well, if you ignore that it's all weeds - but my hands are big puffy sausages of discomfort.
Yeah, yeah. I do need a little cheese to go with that.
I also need a Sassy Gay Friend to kick my ass. Like this guy with Desdemona:
D: "Othello's ordered me to bed."
SGF: "Yeah, well he's also ordered a pillow at Bed, Bath and Beyond that's good for smothering."
Anyway, I've come to the decision that I don't want to finish this book. And I'll stomp my feet and hold my breath if anyone tries to make me. I'm enjoying these people and this world too much. If I finish this, who knows if I'll ever be able to be with them again. I mean, if no one buys this, why bother with the sequels? Right? :pout:
Okay, so yes, I'll finish this. I'll even have it done by the end of June like I promised. But that doesn't mean I have to like writing THE END. :end pout:
Have you ever written a story you didn't want to end? Do you need a sassy gay friend, too?