Bless me Father, for I have sinned...I pulled a fast one on my co-writer again.
The other day, I was complaining about a story that I've been cowriting for the Ghostletters mailing list, of which I am the proud moderator. If you hazarded a look behind the cut tag, you would have seen that my complaint was that I was doing most of the writing, and said co-writer would toss in half a line and send it back to me. Well, last night, I got tired of it, and threw the story in an entirely different direction on her, and blithely asked her to deal with it. Ain't I a stinker?
Of course, many of you know that this wasn't the first time that I've done this. For example,
My two favorites, though, were (a) nearly having Jack O'Brian expire in the arms of Denver Gotobed and (b) throwing Flan down the back stairs at St. Patrick's to keep from having to relocate him to The Refuge.