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I wrote a novel in November. Like the vast majority of novels written in November (it being National Novel Writing Month) it's a bit scrappy and a bit unsure of itself and a bit lacking in background, worldbuilding, geography, and sense, but still. It's 78 thousand words (plus) that I didn't have (most of) prior to November.
I'm still quite pleased with it. And I think it's something most of you reading this would enjoy, as a novel. It's got lots of explosions and a reasonable plot (I think) and actual LGBT+ representation. Which isn't exactly par for the course with medieval fantasy...
So yeah. There's that.
Been a while, LJ, hi.
Is anybody remotely bothered about reading it anymore? I mean, there's a whole new season (not series, clearly, it's American now) of Torchwood I'm not even watching. Is anybody still interested in the old characters, from back before it started making even less sense and more pornographic noises?
Or should I just shut up and go away and let everybody else get on with the new ships and stuff, and try and find something else to do with my miserable little life?
EDIT: O_O Unexpected amount of people. Alright, then...
No really, I have completely lost track of how many funerals I've been to. Last year I counted up, then checked with my mother and found out I'd forgotten a few. This year I'm not even going to try.
It went okay, though. Aside from getting lost for over an hour on the way to the hotel. My mother decided to only take the last four directions from the route planner in order to fit more onto the page, and my brother was navigating, naturallement. Full of fail. And of course when I take over and start directing us to the right area, this sort of thing happens:
"Okay, take this left. Yes, that was the one you should have taken. Okay, turn around at this little roundabout and go back to it. No, not that exit. Where the hell are we going?"
So we pull over and ask for directions from the two people out for a walk, the only two people in sight, and they direct us to the hotel, and when we get there, my services as navigator no longer required, guess who gets the blame for getting us lost?
And then the next morning mum's left the room key in the door and it's been handed in, so after we've wasted twenty minutes looking for it and finally given up we're late for breakfast. As in, "Oh, I'm so sorry, we've just finished serving."
And the directions to the crematorium? Don't actually lead to the crematorium.
Still, we make it with about five minutes to spare, and then have to endure some ridiculous phraseology in the service that almost has me collapsing into peals of laughter.
Other than that and lots of almost-tears, it was fine. Honest.