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The Slush God wants to know about pro writers in their twenties. So if you are one or know one (or two or three ...), sing out.
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oracne's still thinking about slash.
coffee_and_ink has a couple questions.
Chapter 14 is ill-behaved and sulky, like a toddler octopus up past its bedtime.
Another rejection letter in the mail.
And I feel, for no reason that I know of, like I spent the night being beaten with sticks. This is not doing wonders for my concentration.
Bizarrely, I find that what my brain wants to write is oldschool cyberpunk. You know, with the angst and the neon in the rain and the goth kids and their wetware on the run from the Man in a city that's like Gotham crossed with Tron. I don't know WHERE this is coming from and I certainly don't have time to deal with it now. Also, no plot, no characters, and no chops. Shut up, brain.
oracne's still thinking about slash.coffee_and_ink has a couple questions.Chapter 14 is ill-behaved and sulky, like a toddler octopus up past its bedtime.
Another rejection letter in the mail.
And I feel, for no reason that I know of, like I spent the night being beaten with sticks. This is not doing wonders for my concentration.
Bizarrely, I find that what my brain wants to write is oldschool cyberpunk. You know, with the angst and the neon in the rain and the goth kids and their wetware on the run from the Man in a city that's like Gotham crossed with Tron. I don't know WHERE this is coming from and I certainly don't have time to deal with it now. Also, no plot, no characters, and no chops. Shut up, brain.
