Kouryou-chan last night had a tantrum while being put to bed, one that resulted in her kicking me in the arm. Today, my arm is really bothering me; I wasn't able to get much typing done on a story; the pain in my right forearm was too great for me to be effective.
Part of the problem seems to be that I've reached what I call in my stories the fraypoint. That's when I've put down the foundation to so many new stories I suddenly can't figure out which one I should work on first. A scene in Miracle of Science, an encounter on the train from Portland, and a comment from one of the characters in Fragile Dream gelled [autospell insists that's a valid word] and became a whole new story. More stories have suggested themselves out of the aether of ideas that I have surrounding me.
Where do ideas come from? Well, when a boy idea and a girl idea love each other very much...
I'll stop writing now. This hurts. Darned kid.
Part of the problem seems to be that I've reached what I call in my stories the fraypoint. That's when I've put down the foundation to so many new stories I suddenly can't figure out which one I should work on first. A scene in Miracle of Science, an encounter on the train from Portland, and a comment from one of the characters in Fragile Dream gelled [autospell insists that's a valid word] and became a whole new story. More stories have suggested themselves out of the aether of ideas that I have surrounding me.
Where do ideas come from? Well, when a boy idea and a girl idea love each other very much...
I'll stop writing now. This hurts. Darned kid.
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