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So I'm in the shower and I've been reading a trashy romance novel off the "this is cluttering up your shelves" queue, and it's all set in Texas and stuff, and then an Alaskan Romance Novel bites me, nearly full-plotted. So I scrub up, come out, and start outlining.

Those thin little romance novels are only about 200 pages long, you know. Hmm.

Kicks in the arse to keep with the hisstorical fic are vastly appreciated too.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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