I won't give away my prompt until the thing is posted next month, but I envisioned it as cute little funny/smutty/pron story nearly devoid of angst, plot or character development. I started it months ago, wrote two or three other stories in the process and just finished typing it up last night. Folks, the current draft is over 10,000 words and runs 30 plus pages and is teeming with angst and plot.
Massive kudos and thanks and blessings on their head to Beta Goddess Carol and others who have been listening to me kvetch about this thing over and over and over for months. I had to make up a few characters, find believable rationales for slightly OOcharacter appearing behavior, make up three separate differntial diagnoses scenes and find yet more ways to make interesting writing with the same old squishy bits.
So hubby's been working for twelve hours and probably didn't get enough sleep beforehand and all he wants to do is eat a bagel, watch some television and get to sleep and I'm grunching around the house, getting ready for work, going on and on and on about my 10,000 words and how I had to write one hand job, one cuddle, plus various incidences of oral sex and other activities. And he said as politely as possible, but with infinite weariness..."I'm just not interested."
That's when you know you've been whining about one story for too long.
Here endeth the whining.