I like how serene the above image is. That’s how a lot of people picture writer’s daily work. They do not picture me laying on the carpet in the study, because I’ve been in the chair for the past x hours and my back was beginning to hurt, and saying things like, “It won’t work because she can just poison him.”
And my husband saying back, “I’m not married to the oozes.”
And me saying, “I am married to the oozes, I like the oozes, I just can’t see it.”
“Because there is no logical reason for him to be across the battlefield and if he runs through, he dies. Let’s cut it.”
“It’s 3,000 words.”
“Eh. We will write more words.”
The edits on Ruby Fever are eating every available minute of time. We are still here, we’re are just buried. Please bear with us.