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Nanowrimo, Day 20: I don't know what's going on anymore. Words are just happening. The plot's run away and died somewhere. Things keep disappearing. Goddamn angels. *head-desks* What is climax. What is denoument. What is plot. What is the point of this novel? What are words?!?

They say the suit makes the man, but Crowley was doing his damnedest to put that saying to shame. Even with a grinning badger on his back and bandages on his chest, he still walked like he was in a three-piece suit. He waved off Chip's helping hand and followed him into the other bedroom. Chip motioned for him to sit down on Saunders' bed until they could figure something out.

"Those painkillers kicking in?" he asked.

"Something certainly is," said the demon, glancing around the room. His eyes instantly found all the etchings and carvings hidden on the bed posts, along the windowsill and on the dresser. "Paranoid little bastards, aren't you?"

"When everyone's out to get you..." shrugged Chip.

33573 / 50000 words. 67% done!

* William Arnot

Date: 2011-11-20 10:23 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Just let it happen and sort it out later <3

Date: 2011-11-20 11:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
*clingy hugs* Yeah, I'm tying to abandon myself to the flow, but I hate not knowing what I'm writing towards. *snuggles*

Date: 2011-11-20 11:23 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
*glomps you* I know it's rough <3 Plus the weirdest things happen when you abandon yourself to what happens D:

Date: 2011-11-21 12:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Oh gods they're eating granola baaaaaaaars!

I am my icon.

*smishes you*

Date: 2011-11-21 04:15 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Hey! I got cute tentacles. How is that even possible?



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