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Oh good Lord. Where do I start?
Well, I should probably start with a warning: I am running on very little sleep, and thus am equally likely to turn maudlin and self-pitying at the drop of a hat or start giggling insanely at the drop of same hat. I'm going to hope for the latter, since that's more entertaining for all.
I think I'll pass on a retrospective of 2007, since for the most part it was very good, and the few bad patches were either of the self-pity sort or too icky to describe without euphemism. I will say, though, that the very end of 2007 rocked like a turbo-powered rocking chair full of kittens. Piloted by kittens, even. ( Release the bees! )
And then there was Yuletide. Oh, was there Yuletide.
First there was![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sigerson's story, Finch's First Drop, which takes a look at what happened outside the story in Connie Willis' To Say Nothing of the Dog. I know I pimped this story before; I'm pimping it again, and I'll get out the velvet pimp hat if I have to. If you've read To Say Nothing of the Dog, go and read this story now. Right now. This very instant!
The story written for me, The Train Ride was apparently written by Fuzzycactus. I know next to nothing about her, but the story continues to be awesome. And now I have to go read some Victor Pelevin because of it.
And the story I wrote was Winter Words, set in Robin McKinley's Damar after the events of The Blue Sword. Bothminyan and sigerson were excellent betas, yanking out the points where I'd tried to gloss over conflict and waving them in my face. (That wasn't all they did, of course; see above re. lack of sleep.) I'm proud of this story, and glad I wrote it.
I think I'll have to do this again next year.
Well, I should probably start with a warning: I am running on very little sleep, and thus am equally likely to turn maudlin and self-pitying at the drop of a hat or start giggling insanely at the drop of same hat. I'm going to hope for the latter, since that's more entertaining for all.
I think I'll pass on a retrospective of 2007, since for the most part it was very good, and the few bad patches were either of the self-pity sort or too icky to describe without euphemism. I will say, though, that the very end of 2007 rocked like a turbo-powered rocking chair full of kittens. Piloted by kittens, even. ( Release the bees! )
And then there was Yuletide. Oh, was there Yuletide.
First there was
sigerson's story, Finch's First Drop, which takes a look at what happened outside the story in Connie Willis' To Say Nothing of the Dog. I know I pimped this story before; I'm pimping it again, and I'll get out the velvet pimp hat if I have to. If you've read To Say Nothing of the Dog, go and read this story now. Right now. This very instant!The story written for me, The Train Ride was apparently written by Fuzzycactus. I know next to nothing about her, but the story continues to be awesome. And now I have to go read some Victor Pelevin because of it.
And the story I wrote was Winter Words, set in Robin McKinley's Damar after the events of The Blue Sword. Both
minyan and sigerson were excellent betas, yanking out the points where I'd tried to gloss over conflict and waving them in my face. (That wasn't all they did, of course; see above re. lack of sleep.) I'm proud of this story, and glad I wrote it.I think I'll have to do this again next year.
