filthy as the ace of spades

I had an idea the other day, which has now become a fully formed magical fairy tale with plot and everything. And now I'm sitting here making dramatic prairie dog chipmunk faces instead of typing my fingers bloody because I feel I can't possibly put my thoughts into words well enough to do it justice. But you know what? I'll do it anyway! Even if it becomes another epic fic that runs out of steam about 30k words in. *nod*

So, yeah. Writing is hard. :/
Mostly, it's because we lack the self-confidence we would need to be Stephen King. I mean, does he ever worry that we might not care about the main characters' sister's mailman's little brother's ex-girlfriend? No, he doesn't... he just tells us her whole life story, including that of her dog, her sister, and that sister's mailman.

I don't know what that should teach us. Possibly that we're insane for encouraging him. Or ourselves? :/ Meh. Who cares. WRITE.



Also, the Sammy-lost-his-shoe face is not to laugh at, either. If you stop at the porn... that's the face he's going to make. :o