Pie.

9198 / 50000

Didn't do too well last night. I was supposed to be starting the sex scene (word-count guzzler! idiocy!) but kept prevaricating and bulking out other bits instead. 1,000 words short of target, and just before falling asleep last night, started having the 'argh, I don't have enough plot to do the full 50k' wibbles. Morning, I gave the bunnies a thwack and pointed out that I'm nearly a fifth through and am nowhere near finished with act 1 of 4, possibly 5, and that's not including the shipwreck framing device.

Possibly didn't help that I kept being seduced by Harry Potter future aus. The satisfying kind about relationships and jobs and trying to cope with life and general fallout, that completely ignore the idiotic coda JKR wrote where everyone perpetuates the status quo. My only problem was the occasional mention of foodstuffs/things that you simply cannot get or aren't made in the UK. 'No-one would make that! Seriously, what the hell is that? ...You didn't just have an English character refer to zucchini. Cooked breakfast on a workday - don't make me laugh*.' A Britcheck, for the love of the FSM and Snape's L'Oreal contract. Is it so difficult?

*Cooked breakfast : not a usual feature of the average british kitchen on a weekday. Cereal or toast. Cooked breakfast is perfectly allowed on weekends, on holidar or if you're a builder/cab driver. We excel at cooked breakfast as a nation, it's just that the majority of the time if someone's eating it for breakfast they didn't get it cooked at home, they bought it.