bogwitch

I finally thought of 10 of my writing idiosyncrasies. You know it's a bogwitch fic because:

1. Long, long, long, long, sentences that never stop yet can't seem to be broken up.
2. Big paragraphs that scare people.
3. An obsession with the weather and the sky in general.
4. As little dialogue as I can get away with (though I'm much better these days).
5. Illyria will fix you with a hard stare. So watch it.
6. Jokes that no one, or very few people (usually non-Americans) get. Iced Gems?
7. Long words because I believe in the dictionary, blame my mum for drilling these things into me as a child.
8. People sigh a lot and if they don’t, they shrug or frown. This is because I can't think of anything else.
9. Paragraphs of flowery prose, which get turned on their head by a punchline at the end. Because I can't resist.
10. Missing words. The of my existence.

And an extra for good measure:

11. Very little sex and what there is, is very, very weird.

Feel free to suggest more and stroke my battered ego.


Now for your viewing pleasure, complete with my very own handwriting, for those 2 or 3 people who might care:




I forgot to label the Vicarage behind the church (complete with the summerhouse thingy that I've forgotten what I've called it).




I was going to leave the posting of Chapter Fifteen until tomorrow, but as I couldn't wait I will post a drabble instead.

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