RL has been...ummmm...writerly. Work has me focusing on writing lessons on Anatomy and Physiology in an effort to update a 10-year-old text my company needs to update.
Do you have any idea how much our understanding of A&P has evolved in 10 years? Especially when it comes to things like heredity, immunity, and just how some parts of the human body work?
And that's just not getting into the changes in editorial standards my company has undergone in the past 10 years. These texts are basically a list of definitions for body parts. That stuff wouldn't fly if those texts were written today.
So, in short, I'm doing the editing equivalent of throwing the whole damn thing out and writing from scratch. Not my boss' fault. Not anyone's fault. Actually, it's my fault because I decided (mentally) to adopt this baby and give it a good bathing before showing it off to everyone. *sigh*
I'm not an anal-rententive control freak. NoOoOoOo. Not at aaaaallllllll.
Because all this brainpower got sucked into writing science, writing on Living History and polishing it up nice and bright slowed to a standstill. Everytime I sat down, I had dancing enzymes in front of my eyes. Scary, but true. Plus, it's beginning to affect Living History. It was post-getting this job that I figured out what Charley's sooper-sekrit medikal breakthrew ov da futur would be (PHARMACEUTICALS! ALL HAIL DRUGS FOR A BRIGHTER TOMORROW!). I even threw in some medical babble for heavens sake!
In other news, I'm slowly sneaking up on the idea of going to Writercon in Vegas. I'm trying not to look at the idea directly, because I'm afraid of scaring it away, but the temptation to finally meet some of you (as well as meet some of you again) is more overwhelming than my wallfloweritis. I took the first step by putting in for vaca for the time roughly covering Writercon. Now I just have to get the guts to go sign up for it.
I have to sneak up on it first, though. You know, hit that PayPal button before my brain knows what hit it. Once I commit, I'll be forced to start booking flights and hotel room because...hey! Paid for the Writercon already.
*thinks* Maybe an LJ meet-up might be a good idea for us shy folk.
Hell, I signed on for a John Kerry meetup this month, so an LJ meetup and Writercon is only a short step away from that, right?
*blinks at above paragraph* Not that I've signed up to go. Or at all. Still sneaking up on the idea...*shhhhhhhhh* before my brain catches on.
I mean, I'm socking 10% of every paycheck away into my savings account. Might as well use it for something, right?
Anyway, I did manage to run a new part on the test list for Living History. So far, not a lot of reaction to it (a handful of positive praise), but then again, the test list has been hopping with new stories. Plus...Mother's Day in the U.S. *shrug*
New part, and then to catch up with LJ responses. I'm going to update the next few parts daily and at a dead run:
Up to part 51 can be found here
Continued from here
They managed to beat back the dirty creatures to an area on the other side of the cemetery road using a lot of tai chi throwing moves.
It was something at least.
Buffy spun in a roundhouse kick and whooped when dirty guy stumbled back half a step. Her victory was short-lived as another one tackled her from behind. She managed to twist herself free of its grasp before hitting the ground. She rolled away and rocked herself back to her feet.
They were fighting three-to-one, not terrible odds but not great. Problem was they were also fighting things that didn’t get tired unlike, say, a baker’s dozen worth of Slayers and one Watcher.
Buffy drew a deep breath and retreated a little more, eyes fixed on the battle raging among the graves. There has to be a weakness. There has to be, she desperately thought. At best we’re fighting to a draw and time’s on their side. They can wait us out and win.
Try as hard as she might, she simply couldn’t see a pattern. There was no landed punch, to strike, no kick that revealed a weak spot. She shouldn’t have been surprised. In essence they were fighting animated inanimate objects, not flesh-and-blood things with Achilles heels.
Tammi got kicked out of play and momentum bounced her across the ground. Buffy took off to retrieve her and help her to her feet.
“So much for Xander’s rule,” Tammi grumbled as she grasped Buffy’s hand.
“Xander’s rule? I’m afraid to ask.”
“When all else fails, go for the eyes. Everything has eyes.”
“Yeesh,” Buffy cringed. “Was this before or after Caleb?”
“Before.” Tammi gave her head a hard shake. “Do you see eyes? I don’t see eyes.”
“Yeah, well, it is good advice,” Buffy admitted, trying very hard to make the image of Xander’s blood-covered agonized face go away. “Except, y’know, when it’s not.”
“GUYS!” Andrea screamed as seven dirt bags converged on her position.
“Time for me to hit them with my face a little more,” Tammi remarked. “Coming?”
“In a sec. Trying to see if there’s a fighting pattern or a weakness we can exploit,” Buffy said, eyes desperately scanning the fight.
“Don’t take too long, o great leader,” Tammi snipped as she zipped back in the fray.
Buffy bit her lip. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. Damn it! Show me something!”
Her desperate study was interrupted when she saw Giles backhanded to the ground. “Hey!” she yelled as she rocketed towards the offending thing. “Hands off my Watcher!”