So there’s the fic about the brothers Winchester meeting Sherlock and John, and then there’s the small matter of the Burn Notice one that I wrote in two days because I had nothing - and I mean, NOTHING - to do at work for nine hours, and I was only working on those two because I can’t write book six of my space opera (even though half of it is already written in fragments) because no-one wants the first one (total of eight rejection letters that has taken a year to compile), so I decided to finish my other sci-fi one first (about people accidentally swapping bodies; nothing to do with my space opera) and then try to get that ‘sold’ to an agent, seeing as that’s probably a lot more bankable.
Writing is back as the focus of my life for the first time in a long time, because the rest of it is all so boring. It’s fine - there’s nothing wrong with it. It just goes and goes, with no excitement. It’s just not as exciting as tearing my hair out trying to somehow stop some OC from running amuck.
And that’s it.
~ fan-fic ~ writing ~ agents ~ novel