I have plot!

One might even call it...a Plot Bunny. From Hell.

Because I was thinking today, I should be able to bang out a thousand words of story for AlienSkin's Terrifying Toys contest, right? That's a teeny little story. Anyone should be able to do that.

And I've mulled it over. I have a beginning, a middle, a surprise, and an ending in mind. And I think it might actually fit inside that 900-1000 word limit they want. And I am going to by golly sit here and work on it and see if I can't stick an END at the bottom before I go to bed.

Less than a thousand words. I can do that. And if it's crap, I can edit crap so that it's not-crap. And I'm not worried about striking the right creepy vibe with this. I think I proved rather handily that I can do that with the ReaverFic. *nods firmly*

I have plot!

One might even call it...a Plot Bunny. From Hell.

Because I was thinking today, I should be able to bang out a thousand words of story for AlienSkin's Terrifying Toys contest, right? That's a teeny little story. Anyone should be able to do that.

And I've mulled it over. I have a beginning, a middle, a surprise, and an ending in mind. And I think it might actually fit inside that 900-1000 word limit they want. And I am going to by golly sit here and work on it and see if I can't stick an END at the bottom before I go to bed.

Less than a thousand words. I can do that. And if it's crap, I can edit crap so that it's not-crap. And I'm not worried about striking the right creepy vibe with this. I think I proved rather handily that I can do that with the ReaverFic. *nods firmly*

HAH.

Less than two hours later, I have an END at the bottom of the Bunny From Hell story. The word count is 1084, but my mad drabbling skilz should be able to pare that down to an acceptable level. It doesn't achieve the creepiness factor I hoped for, but I have words on the screen, and I can edit them.

My Muses are evil. Evil, I tell you.

That being said, I'm quite pleased with myself. I'll probably look at the thing in the morning and think it's utter dreck, but I scribbled over a thousand words today and that makes me happy.

HAH.

Less than two hours later, I have an END at the bottom of the Bunny From Hell story. The word count is 1084, but my mad drabbling skilz should be able to pare that down to an acceptable level. It doesn't achieve the creepiness factor I hoped for, but I have words on the screen, and I can edit them.

My Muses are evil. Evil, I tell you.

That being said, I'm quite pleased with myself. I'll probably look at the thing in the morning and think it's utter dreck, but I scribbled over a thousand words today and that makes me happy.

The Bunny, the Bunny, oh I love the Bunny...

I have whacked down the word count to within acceptable parameters. Now I need to increase the Creepy Factor. No doubt I'll have to whack it down again after I do that. A title, as well, would be a Good Thing.

For the first time in a long time, I'm actually feeling productive about my writing.

And now, for your entertainment...THE BUNNY SONG, and the inspiration for this story.

Of course, all this being said, I'm not sure I actually like the story. I just don't feel quite evil enough about it yet.

The Bunny, the Bunny, oh I love the Bunny...

I have whacked down the word count to within acceptable parameters. Now I need to increase the Creepy Factor. No doubt I'll have to whack it down again after I do that. A title, as well, would be a Good Thing.

For the first time in a long time, I'm actually feeling productive about my writing.

And now, for your entertainment...THE BUNNY SONG, and the inspiration for this story.

Of course, all this being said, I'm not sure I actually like the story. I just don't feel quite evil enough about it yet.

Okay, I want THIS.

I think that the American Idol people should have a "VeggieTales" week. I want Jason Castro to sing "The Hairbrush Song." David Cook would do a wonderful rendition of "The Bunny Song," and David Archuletta could sing "Endangered Love." Brooke White could do "Pizza Angel." Carly Smithson could do "Gated Community." Syesha Mercado should sing "The Bellybutton Song."

THIS WOULD BE AWESOME.

No, I haven't been drinking. Why do you ask?

Okay, I want THIS.

I think that the American Idol people should have a "VeggieTales" week. I want Jason Castro to sing "The Hairbrush Song." David Cook would do a wonderful rendition of "The Bunny Song," and David Archuletta could sing "Endangered Love." Brooke White could do "Pizza Angel." Carly Smithson could do "Gated Community." Syesha Mercado should sing "The Bellybutton Song."

THIS WOULD BE AWESOME.

No, I haven't been drinking. Why do you ask?

I love LJ.

Hey, look! "Poisonous" vs "venomous" wank on fanficrants. That's awesome.

I'm also going to echo what many have said about The Open Source Boobs Project: NO TOUCHY. Seriously, folks, two people on the whole entire planet are permitted to touch my breasts. If you're not my husband or my gynecologist...you're not one of them. My boobs /= Open Source. CLOSED SOURCE. Closed and locked. No longer available.

I don't like being touched by strangers at the best of times--and, while I may be having the best of times at a Con, that good time will immediately cease for both me and anyone who thinks it's okay to grope my boobies. I will be scandalized, and the groper will have broken fingers and possibly broken testicles. I mean, even the Hubby and the gyno don't do that sort of thing in public.

GOOD TASTE. LEARN SOME. THEY'RE CALLED "PRIVATE PARTS" FOR A REASON.

*breathes*

Here, have some icons:


Not that I've ever been accused of having good taste.

In other news, I biked 10.6 miles and burned 500 calories in 53:54 tonight, which is a new personal best for me. *dies*

And now I'm just going to take my rageful hormones and their capslock upstairs to bed. I may rip my ovaries out with a rusty spork first.

I love LJ.

Hey, look! "Poisonous" vs "venomous" wank on fanficrants. That's awesome.

I'm also going to echo what many have said about The Open Source Boobs Project: NO TOUCHY. Seriously, folks, two people on the whole entire planet are permitted to touch my breasts. If you're not my husband or my gynecologist...you're not one of them. My boobs /= Open Source. CLOSED SOURCE. Closed and locked. No longer available.

I don't like being touched by strangers at the best of times--and, while I may be having the best of times at a Con, that good time will immediately cease for both me and anyone who thinks it's okay to grope my boobies. I will be scandalized, and the groper will have broken fingers and possibly broken testicles. I mean, even the Hubby and the gyno don't do that sort of thing in public.

GOOD TASTE. LEARN SOME. THEY'RE CALLED "PRIVATE PARTS" FOR A REASON.

*breathes*

Here, have some icons:


Not that I've ever been accused of having good taste.

In other news, I biked 10.6 miles and burned 500 calories in 53:54 tonight, which is a new personal best for me. *dies*

And now I'm just going to take my rageful hormones and their capslock upstairs to bed. I may rip my ovaries out with a rusty spork first.