Almost a month after bothering various NaNo writers to fill out a relatively simple feature-questionnaire for the website, someone finally emailed my their replies.
Admittedly it was the person who received theirs like a week after everyone else, and the rest are pretty much still crickets except for the one who thought she was in trouble for not doing it, but still. I am such an effective leader.
36 revisions to the Wordpress post later, most of which involved moving images around until the arbitrary thing in my head decided it was satisfied, and some of which involved cursing out the headings, it's ready for next Wednesday. It's almost the same satisfaction of publishing without the crippling self-doubt, the anxiety that prevents you writing anything for the next two years, and a complete lack of shaking hands and brain-freeze every time you sit in front of the laptop. I could get used to this.
If anyone else actually submitted their fucking answers, anyway.
Snowmageddon continues unabated. It's not quite as fucking cold as it was yesterday, according to Google anyway; my hallway didn't apparently get that memo. We've had two and a half cases of people nicking grit from the box by the side of the road (the half-a-case was mid-steal when someone caught him loading it into his recycling bin, so he had a half-hearted half-grit of half the road) but someone did actually use it for its real purpose of gritting the road this morning. Which is great because LCC haven't gritted the road themselves in over a decade now, hence why it's such a pain when people nick it: they can be almost as slow to fill it back up again too.
Much as I love the snow, I hope it eases by Saturday. At least the new meetup location is basically down the road from the bus stop, but I don't really want to have to trek down to the bus stop on foot. A mile's walk in the snow, yay. Though given how long it takes to scrape my car and demist the inside after I've been in Nottingham all day, walking is probably quicker.
We almost rescheduled it; I'm not entirely convinced we still shouldn't, but holy fuck I need to get out the house. So the chance of having time to myself for the first time in 28 days is something else to get excited over, and maybe even not that stupid either.
Asexual, aromantic, and transmasc non-binary. No, I have no idea how I ended up writing romance either.