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I have wordses.
And they are good.
I have to keep reminding myself that This Is Epic Fantasy, Dammit, and thus I may be a wordy bitch and toss important exposition onto the page if I want to. But I'd forgotten how much actual fun this thing is to write. When the characters are frustrated and yet being snarky in that nice understated way, it's a blast. And you know, I didn't give you a snippet last week because of my computer woes, so have a (tiny) bonus snippet:
I have to keep reminding myself that This Is Epic Fantasy, Dammit, and thus I may be a wordy bitch and toss important exposition onto the page if I want to. But I'd forgotten how much actual fun this thing is to write. When the characters are frustrated and yet being snarky in that nice understated way, it's a blast. And you know, I didn't give you a snippet last week because of my computer woes, so have a (tiny) bonus snippet:
Before I could complete the thought, I found myself in my own body once more. I staggered against the wall and slid down it until I was seated on the floor with my head between my knees. "I'd like very much for that to stop. Now would be ideal," I wheezed. But at least I wasn't bruised like before, and my shoulder, blessedly, was still in its socket. "What happened while I was gone?"
"Your two dragons," said Malcolm, his tone long-suffering, "had a fearful bloody row. The lady dragon here nearly roasted your body where it stood before I reminded her that she'd be cooking the wrong person."
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And, let's face it, after writing the Epic Awfulness That's Happened to Ben for the last YEAR, it feels good to write something humorous. I don't think Brock will be attempting to kill himself in his sleep.
Of course, this is me, so people will still die, but it will be FUNNY.
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