I complained at the start of Alternate Universe Month that I don't normally write high fantasy and that it was, pardon the pun, a bit of a closed world to me. I'm usually far happier with contemporary fantasy or pretending I know what I'm doing with my sci-fi world.
Honestly, quite recently I'd been struggling for plot. I've got a few stories in Alex and Milos's contemporary world that need writing (one smut, one small arc that I started and then left hanging for AU Month), and the continuation of AU Month itself--I should've known better than to think I could complete a whole story in a month. It's not worked for the last ten years of NaNoWriMo, why would it work now?
With these on my mind, I was taken by surprise when my friend and co-ML reblogged a writing prompt on Tumblr and the damn thing started writing itself in my head. I tried to ignore it, I really did, but the more I ignored it, the more lines spiralled through my mind so in the end I caved in and wrote it. The prompt was about a dragon rescuing a princess from a knight, but this being me the princess turned into a prince long sick of being called "fair maiden" and the dragon turned into a rather handsome man. It turned into something quite cute and fluffy and I really enjoyed writing it. (You can read Rescuing The Princess if you're interested, it's only around 1,500 words.)
And I thought there it'd end. Cute one-shot fluff.
Except today I find that my prince is leaning on the sill of his window tapping his fingers on the brickwork and giving me this expectant look, while the dragon is apparently engaged in working out whether he can become a dragontaur and they both seem to think that I can provide them with another story. Which, to my horror, seems to be something my brain is actively working on as we speak.
I went from being distinctly uninspired to having to try to fight off ideas with a pathetic wooden sword--with little success.
All I want to know is: when did my own mind become so rebellious?