I am just tremendously tired of being strong. And I have some people more vulnerable than myself in my direct or indirect care. But fuck 'em. I can't make myself less vulnerable by trying to hide. One last push of strength.

Not deleting anything.

Let 'em come. Let 'em fucking come. I'll love and tolerate the heck out of their asses.

Gonna go clean stuff now.

I am bored with clop. I have written every combination and every kink that does not violently squick me so often that I simply have no ideas left. Working on Like Bunnies has me acutely bored. What interest I have lies in other fandoms--Loona and Legoshi's bodies especially. I'm still a dirty old zombie, I suppose.

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I am saying this so you don't think I got washed away or anything. I'm safe but I'm also going to be busy for a few weeks.

Almost didn't happen, but I pomodoro'd my way through editing.

Just gonna go ahead and say October's gonna be dicey.

Being undead, you'd think I'd have fewer health problems. The haruspex had a look at my entrails (an easy enough task; they're right out there) and while I'm not in immediate danger of the True Death, I do need to adjust some chemicals. I will be stabbing myself with needles, which is both exciting and terrifying. I do NOT have a good relationship with needles, but I DO rather enjoy fear and pain in delicately curated combination*, so we'll see how that goes.

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In spite of all my bitching and moaning, I got a chapter up. Pre-lesson-zero Twilight is being pre-lesson-zero Twilight. Which is fun to write. Lots of scurrying to the internet to look things up, tho. Also Twilight's POV is very verbose; this would have been a much shorter chapter in almost anypony else's POV. Not to mentioning doubling the number of footnotes so far.

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Even with the best possible ergonomics, drawing is rough. For my hip worst of all, but also for my hand and back. I'm likely to be writing a bit more and drawing a bit less in the near future. Since I can write in my one non-painful chair sitting on an ice pack and not using my thumb (thumb nerve is the big problem) writing is painless if I use moderation. Two hours of drawing, sitting straight up with a tablet stand and a stool so I don't slouch as much still leaves me useless the next

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So. Writer culture. And I mean here larger 'I am writing original fiction and want to be published' writer culture in particular. It's severely toxic. Being judgemental about adverbs¹. Bizarre writing standards ². Obsession with money money money⁴.But most of all: 'what's your word count?'

Word count is the most deadening way to approach writing. I'm saying it. Productivity just murders the creative soul.

That being said.

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It's just... easier to continue this than it is to come up with a whole new premise.

[Adult story embed hidden]

I'm trying for once a week and going for 'no unintentional red or blue lines in Gdocs' for an editing standard, so poke me if you see any typos.

The last four years have sucked for me, and things aren't entirely going to get better. I've fallen out of writing almost entirely, and I don't like that. So, as a way to try to get back in, I'm writing short little clopfics, aiming for 1K words. They will probably all go over, but that's good. I want to get into more substantial content, but it's going to take time to build the mental muscles back up.

Here's the first one:

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