anyone else ever have this problem? (also, story meme!)

Right now I'm sort of . . . paralyzed, I suppose, for lack of a better word. I want to write, need to write, have what feels like eighty billion (well, more like eight or nine) stories yammering to be written (and a whole bunch more waiting patiently on the sidelines)--

And I can't write. I try to, but it's like my brain's trying to go in nine different directions at once, and so I end up going nowhere. Or maybe a better way of putting it is that all these stories are like sheep and my brain is like a door, and they're all trying to get out at the same time instead of waiting their turn, and so my brain is currently jammed too full of fuzzy idiots to go anywhere.

Er. Something along those lines.

Give me a number, and I will give you a piece of the corresponding story. These are listed roughly in order of current priority.

1. A Single Dram of Heaven: a revised and extended version of this. (planned submission for that $500 prize)

2. Ficathon story: can't tell you the title or what it's about, but I can give you snippets of what it's not about.

3. I've Been Here Before: for the "second verse" sga_flashfic challenge--John from "The Siege" gets downloaded into John from "The Rising". Things go a little differently.

4. Turn the Light Out When You Go: right, you know the story. Everyone on Atlantis dies, John's traumatized, and Jack O'Neill insists on being the one to tell the story but is currently refusing to talk to me.

5. Theory of Parallels: John and Rodney in college, semi-realistically.

6. Tailfeathers: John starts turning into a bird.

7. Inebriate of Air: floating fortress/city-thingy. And bandits. And not-bats.

8. The Way to the Green Chapel: SGA meets Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, with John and the team stuck in the middle.

9. Death of a Unicorn: unicorns in gardens, artists wielding shotguns, and game wardens wearing ill-fitting uniforms.
Oooh, what's behind door #9?

"Jammed too full of fuzzy idiots" is a marvelous turn of phrase. :)
"Are you saying I'm not capable of checking out someone's backyard?" Ginny didn't sound angry, exactly, but there was a look in her eye that promised Bad Things should he give the wrong answer.

"No," Doug lied, and wished he were outside with Abigail James, where he wouldn't have to worry about being throttled by the homicidal pregnant woman.

"Well then." Ginny heaved herself to her feet. "Let's go take a look. The station can mind itself for a couple of hours."
Fuzzy Idiots!
Oh my god, YES. It is a maaaaarvy collection of words, and I love it the more I think about it. *giggles to herself at images of story sheep* You've just entertained me for the next couple of hours.

Oh, and since there have already been requests for Five (deeeelicious!), I just HAVE to hear what's going on with this Three thing. Sounds fun. Yay time!
Pick a beginning, any beginning:

a) Everywhere the major goes (which, granted, is two rooms so far, but there's still a definite trend going on here), things turn on by themselves. It's a little spooky and kind of irritating, because yes, the major has the gene, but he doesn't seem to appreciate it properly (the way Rodney would if he had it). "Are you doing that?" Rodney demands, but the major shakes his head.

"Nope. Lights are turning on all by themselves." And Rodney wouldn't believe him, except the man seems spooked.

b) The major (superfluous, a luxury, unneeded) stumbled as he entered the city. Those coming before and after him looked up at the unexpected lights, around at the strange architecture; the major looked down at the floor with blank eyes--or rather with eyes that saw and knew too much. When he looked up again, as the steady stream of men and supplies brushed past, he looked not at the city, but at the people, and with a sort of fierce anguish.

He walked up the stairs as would one familiar with his surroundings, attention held by McKay, who was in turn fascinated by everything, scarcely able to hold to a single direction. They walked up the stairs together, and with each step the major took, more lights came on--lights and what seemed to be everything else.

McKay turned a distracted eye toward the major and demanded "Are you turning everything on? If so, please turn it off right now until we have a chance to figure out what's what."

c) The major stumbled, three steps into the room, but most people did the first time they went through the gate. Besides, the lights had just come on, and that would be enough to startle anyone who wasn't used to weird alien stuff.

d) Two, three, four steps into the city, and Sheppard stumbles as the lights come on, eyes gone suddenly blank. But he keeps walking, carried forward by the stream of people and supplies through the gate. (The city shudders under his feet, but only he can feel her shake.)
The thing is, he's sure John's cheating, and quite probably the other four guys as well, because Rodney keeps coming up with the worst hands possible, and nobody believes him when he tries to bluff. But he can't figure out how they're doing it, and he's down to four chips, and things are looking pretty dire.

"Raise two."


"Raise three."



Rodney takes one last look at his piddly little pair, and figures why not? "Raise four." If he loses, at least the humiliation will be over. (He still can't figure out how he wound up agreeing to play poker in the first place.)
Re: #5
*heh* Poor rationalizing Rodney! It's not possible that he could just be not good at something.
Re: #5
I can't decide if he's just a bad player, or if they really are cheating--I half think it's the latter, and the group (which meets every Friday evening, come hell, high water, or even midterms) cycles between playing honest games and ones where the whole point is to cheat as much as possible without getting caught. And John just "neglected" to tell Rodney about it.
I can't help but love this story - the idea behind it, the execution...it's all so good! I love seeing Rodney/John friendship pieces in different situations: they sorta point out that no matter the circumstances, Rodney and John together just works. *sighs happily for good friendships*

And the fact that you have so much more detail floating about in that brain of yours makes me squee inside. *huggles*
"I don't get it," Jimmy said. "It's like the magic's simply been stripped out of the wards. Look--the physical barrier and all the marks are still intact, so there's no way this happened accidentally."

"So, what--someone came in and unwarded my vegetable garden?" Abigail frowned at the ward marks as if they could spell out for her what had happened.

"I don't think 'unwarded' is an actual word, but yes. It had to have been done deliberately."
The cake comes without candles or a song, and he really isn’t hungry, but John makes himself smile and say thank you and take a big bite. His mother smiles back at him like she might cry, and all he wants to do is wrap himself around her legs like he used to when he was small. Not because he’s sad, but because she is.