Self-awareness: overrated.

It is extremely disturbing to realize that a large portion of my self-image as regards my loved ones being distressed is...umm...

Wolverine. Yah. From the X-Men.

Cutslashstompsnarlsmackslash take that, bad stuff.

And another component is (oh God) Miles Vorkosigan. Bouncefussplanfussadministriviazapboom.

There is also a strong heritage-chick component of Valkyrie.

Sadly, very few of the problems facing my loved ones respond well to claws, ImpSec, or flying bosomy chicks with swords and/or axes.

Umm. Perhaps that's not sad after all.

Afternoon randomness

The color quiz says I will be happy if I have lots of sex. I wonder what colors I would have had to pick for it to say I would be miserable with sex. I don't really feel like experimenting to find out, though.

When I don't feel like looking something up that's on the tip of my tongue and breaking the flow of a scene, I will put a shorthand for it in square brackets. I just found a bit where I indicated Lysistrata with "[Greek women refuse sex play]." Which is actually a much more useful note than some of them, which say things like "[guy]" or "[place]." I have not yet resorted to "[thingy]" on my manuscripts as I do in conversation, but I suspect it's only a matter of time. I have also bracketed a paragraph in pink with the label, "Make more sense." Good advice for many writers: hey! Make more sense!

It's a pretty low-energy day for me, and for timprov, too, but we're trying to be of some use anyway. Working on Sampo and "At the Sign of the Fish and Amulet," in my case, although there may be snow yagas in my future. There may also be a nap in my future. We'll just have to see.