Headdesking so hard right now.

I've got notes on the Ghost Ship story. They consist, when boiled down to their essence, of "SUCK LESS." So that's awesome. I've decided that I'm just goofing off today. I've got a meeting with my Writing Buddy for the Won His Soul story, and I'll be putting a final polish and edit on it starting either tonight or tomorrow. Today, I'm giving my brain a break except for fun stuff that doesn't really matter in the Great Scheme of My Career, Such As It Is.

But that didn't stop me from poking through the Plot Bunny Hutch. And the last one there is "He was an angry and bitter little angel." Which made me perk up and go "ooo." I even had insta-plot. And then I shook my fist and went "NO." I'm in an angel rut right now and don't need to write more angel stories. Won His Soul is actually the second one I've written for publication, and Ben is embroiled in angel and demon crap up to his eyebrows in the RP. Plus I'm working on one already in the collaboration. Sort of. NO MORE.

SO. My plan of action is to (a) edit Won His Soul to within an inch of its life and then send it to Writers of the Future. (b) edit Ghost Ship so that it stops sucking. (c) THEN go through the bunny hutch and find something new to sink my teeth into.

Snippet Saturday!

From Ghost Ship:

"Take us baaaaaaack..." Its voice was a growly quaver. Charlie snapped off a shot, but the energy bolt had no effect on it, passing through and spattering harmlessly against the bulkhead. "I am beyond your puny weapons. Take us back or face my wrath."

"Yes, yes, very frightening," said a dry voice. Russ spun around and confronted a see-through stranger lounging in the doorway with his arms crossed, dressed in clothing a hundred years out of date. "Might I remind you, Seymour, that we're not all united in this enterprise of yours."

"We must stay buried in hallowed ground!" Now the first apparition just sounded whiny. Russ turned again and saw that it had shrunk down to human-sized and had pushed the cowl off its head.

"What difference does it make? We're just as dead," the second specter snapped. "You'll have to excuse my colleague," he said to Russ. "He does have a flair for the dramatic."

"A flair--what the--" Russ collapsed into his seat. Mandy hyperventilated beside him, and Charlie knelt in front of her and chafed her wrists. "Someone want to explain to me just what the hell is going on?"

What've you got?