Welcome to my perfumed garden

Would you like to come in and have a nice hot toddy? You look awfully chilly in those floating muslin rags...

Heh, thanks, but I think I'll wait just a leeeetle bit. Until your kitchen floor is less, um... dangerous? (Seriously, I hope you and Mark didn't breath too much of the fumes. And your slippers -- that's flat-out *scary*.)

And sheesh, thank you for the lovely, lovely, so wonderfully lovely words about my writing (well, and me, too :-)). You're being enormously kind, and I clutched your kind words to my frustrated heart last night -- and well, damn. They worked. ::showers Gilly with tea and coffee and smooches and non-toxic'ly-sealed kitchen floors:: I've been beating my head against a wall for forever it feels like, unable to get anywhere on my Moonridge fics, or anything else to speak of (and yes, angsting shamefully-- I so want a brain that creates *plots* and I rarely seem to have one of those) -- and this morning I'm all revitalized and making honest-to-God real progress on one Moonridge fic, and I really think it might work okay, and I've almost got the whole first draft written, which seemed impossible even just yesterday and --

::SMOOCH.SMOOCH.SMOOCH::

And I know everybody works differently. I just do incredibly admire the inventiveness of Rainbows and Rainbows 2 and Wind Whispering and the Academy fic, not to mention Alpha and Omega and all your other fics... And to be able to work the way you describe working does sound like a -- probably unattainable -- heaven to me. (But I'm not angsting about it anymore, 'kay? Not this morning. Just writing. And when that's happening, no matter how it comes about, I'm happy...)