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The hubby is sick, sick today, so we didn't risk seeing the in-laws and I got to write a bunch. I'm nearly done with the shapeshifter thing, and HMOWK is coming along, too. I'm getting very close to some things I'm quite proud of, there.
But, there's this thing bouncing around in my head. It's been there since I was a teen, probably, in one form or another. A mystery sort of thing. I do love a good mystery. I can sit and untangle knots or do logic problems for hours, and that is why I like a good mystery, I think. Never expected to have an idea for one, even though I knew that these characters I've had in my head for years belonged in a mystery novel. I'm just sort of remembering being a middle-class kid in an upper-crust sort of university, and all the little abrasive edges of things that flew around socially. Throw in some sweet Sapphic longing and a dead soccer player, and frak me if I don't have a mystery novel boiling away in the hind brain.
Crap. It's like I'm playing Genre Bingo in here.
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