Drabbles.

[icarus]

I can't think of anything more discouraging than staying till nine o'clock at the office to write a whole series of little sketches... and then hearing a two-syllable response from the person who requested it.

Yes, I've sketched out nine of the other drabbles, but, I dunno. I've totally lost heart for the whole project for the night. This was supposed to build inspiration, not kill it.

Comments

[ursula]

I suspect a good chunk of fandom (myself included) insures itself by posting too fast.

I have a sort of pseudo-bunny now, though: the tall, gaunt, figure with the long dark hair, stalking about the dusty mansion. Quick sarcasm. A sense this man is too big for these cold stone walls, will break them in his pacing. A jagged S scratched in a windowpane.

When do you know who it is?

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

When? The moment you say 'tall' and 'gaunt' in the same sentence.

I'm so grateful you liked 'In November.' I'm switching the focus, but I still sort of don't know what to do with Harry. *chuckles*

Icarus

[ursula]

Gaunt, maybe. Tall tells you nothing. Besides, have you ever read about anyone who was short and gaunt?

The short, gaunt man walked down the street and was promptly eaten by bears.

I sort of think Harry deserves being fobbed off on Ginny so real plot can happen to Someone Else. Or at least so Neville can be horrendously embarrassed by their public displays of affection. But I have just held a long conversation about how one teaches English in an orthodox Jewish high school in which romantic love is taboo, and my sense of cosmic rightness may be skewed.