You bewdy, I thought. The rest of the week off to work on my troublesome Stargate fic. So it's Sunday and at best I've managed a couple of paragraphs.
There's no excuse for it, as not only have I had time, but shit loads of Stargate on telly as well, even a marathon, for Jack's sake.
No discipline, too much lying about watching crappy tv and sleeping in til midday. The main culprit, aside from my deplorable lack of the up and at 'em gene, is my current, pushy, demanding, me, me, me muse. I swear he's abducted Ezra and buried him somewhere on a lonely highway, and I fear for Jack and Daniel because no matter how much Stargate I've sat through, and it's been a shitload, all I ever seem to be writing are the further adventures of one William Brennan, esquire.( Collapse )