Is it so terribly lame that I find that funny?

Haha.
Probably.

Anyway, WILLIAM, is one-third done (in its first draft) so I guess it's medium-rare.

I've decided that I'm saving every cent I earn with S&T and St-st-stuffed and (In) and Veined, and using it to get a professional edit with this story. :)

You know, I want you guys to enjoy it without being sidetracked by all those seamen that micraculously storm their way out of . . . well, you get the picture. Ouch.

Well, here's the opening paras as a teaser. I LOVE a shout-out to NZ when I read stories, I love even more mentioning NZ, but MOST of all, I love setting my stories in Good Ol' Aotearoa!

* * *

Few things bugged William Sharp. Really bugged him that was. His damn runaway mouth was one of them, and, as he discovered on his twenty-nine hour journey to the end of the world, so did the Chili Peppers playing on repeat five hours straight.

Ask him, and he was sure he could regurgitate every line from Californication—and that from hearing it through the headphones of the girl next to him. And hell no, he did not dream of being Californicated—wasn’t even curious, no matter how dirty it sounded.

Besides, if anything, he was off to be New Zealandificated.

Dunedinificated to be more precise. . . .

* * *

Yup. Dunedin holds a special spot for me. I lived in those mold-infested Dunedin student housing three years. The carpets stunk of stale beer from years of prior spillage, and every morning I'd wake to a sheen of dew over my duvet.

Not pretty.

Loved it.