valarltd: (Default)
The Green Room is a disconsolate place at the moment. It looks like a campaign headquarters at three A.M., after the party in question has lost.

The Nick muse sits on the floor, his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. He seems to be stuck in a bad flashback. Pelton sits in the same position, his back pressed to Nick's. It's entirely possible they are the only thing holding each other up.

Zara picks dispiritedly through the denuded remains of a buffet table, passing over the last slice of ham, the last three olives, and a sad looking cupcake.

Paul is curled protectively around Dan, who whimpers in his sleep. They are as far as they can get from where David sits in a shabby leather wingback chair, with a book open. Anyone watching will notice our resident genius has not actually turned a page in the last ten minutes.

Chuck is dozing on the battered sofa, his new boots propped on one arm of it. Adrien wanders from corner to corner, seeking something he can't define. Ursula and Alice are deep in conversation, but nobody wants to know what the gingers are plotting.

Paintings of their much-missed lovers adorn the walls: the benJedi twins, Corban, Tanis, T. Chris (in both forms), B, Nathan...all of them, shifting between outfits and universes at the whim of the viewer.

Footsteps in the hall outside draw every muses' eyes to the door.
At which point we re-enact the bit at 16:35


"You're a pack of lazy sods. I can't help that your lovers have gone to Aruba. But if you just pretend they're here, maybe we can get them to take up residence in my head long enough to finish something." They grumble, stirring a little. "Yes, I've been sick. Now, I'm okay. Let's write!"
valarltd: (collect lives)
Doing the 1000 words has really helped. The muses are less tempermental, progress is being made.

That doesn't mean all is sunshine and roses here in Angel's Head.


Scene 1

Nick (whining): I'm tired of being straight. This cyberpunk sucks. Write on Nick and Corban. Better yet, watch The Experiment again. Or A Matador's Mistress. You've been holding that over my head for weeks.

Me: You get Adrien Brody in the Tightest Pants In The World when you finish the cyberpunk. Here, have a Nicole Kidman movie instead. *puts in Billy Bathgate*

Nick: *grumbles, then looks up* Whoa, whoa, back it up.

Me: *obliges, running nude scene in the three way mirror for him again*

Nick: I....I get That? Guuuh! Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuusssssssssssh! *faceplants*

Me: Sigh. You're not only an inveterate cock-gobbler, you're apparently a pussy hound. Now, since we know, there will be no more complaints and you will finish the cyberpunk?

Nick: *nods* Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuusssssssssssh! *faceplant*

Scene 2:

David: *replays earring-cutting-out scene for me*
Me: Oh stop. We're almost there. Be good and I'll let Corban fingerpaint in the blood.
David: Really?
Me: Be good
David: I'm very, very good, dear girl, but type faster.

Scene 3:
Me: I'm really not ready to write that WWII novel
Frank, Arthur, and a random Nick: We are! *gives me opening scene with Hank coming to visit Frank and give him a heads-up about construct conscription*

Scene 4:
T: Ever getting back to Manhunt? How about the Studio one? I like that one.
Me: You would. Just because you get to fuck everything that breathes in your direction.
Nick: *looks all scared in his overalls and glasses as T holds the pitchfork to his throat*
Me: Boys! How many fingers do you think I have to type with?

Scene 5:
Anthony, all crucified: Not enough. Come on. Your stuff is out of contract with Phaze by now.
Josh, holding the camera: Yeah, get him off there. Let's get Passion Hearts done.

The chorus comes up: Edward and Charlie, the flower fairies, everyone. They all want me and they all want me now. Loved, but spread too thin.

June 2022

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