It burns, it burns

[catherineldf]

Well, more of a singe, really. The final draft of the story I have to get done this week is taking for bloody ever. I wish I loved it, but I just don't. Poor little thing. I simply want to put its limbs on, get it all dressed up and shove it out the door into the cold cruel world so I can write other things, shinier, prettier things. Every year about this time, I swear off invite-only anthos with themes that don't speak to me. Yet here I am again. Oh well, almost done...