I retired from writing some time ago. The last short story I wrote was in 1996, and my writers' group at the time labelled me a pervert for it. I have been at work in desultory fashion for probably 10 years on my latest novel, and the last one to be completed finished up in 1994. So this is me, dipping my toes in the water once again. I've stolen everything: other people's characters, someone else's response to orange juice on a chin (it's a heck of an idea, but AC just didn't go far enough with it), incidents from people's lives . . . I even swiped a scene from my own work. Rest assured, I'm not making money off these stolen ideas, but if someone wanted to pay me for such deathless prose, I would in a Colorado Springs second change names, drop the Stargate scenario and sell it. Just let me know . . .
My intention was to write a little five- or 10-page story with very few redeeming characteristics. It of course got away from me, and is way longer than originally anticipated. Part of the appeal of starting this project was that I wouldn't have to do any research, but ha! Although I must confess that most of what I know about Egyptian mythology I learned in my class on horror film (three college credits for watching the likes of the original Mummy!), and if it's wrong, it's entirely Bruce Kawin's fault. Here's to the Screen Print Gang for all their suggestions and brainstorming (especially Reluctant Technical Advisor Bob), and to everyone who read it for me (no Colonel O'Neill kisses going out to them, though).
Pervert that I am, I opened it with a completely gratitous sex scene, which I have managed to revise around for those of you who live your lives without reading that kind of trash. If you're Jeff or Rose or anyone of that age, and you want to read the smut version, you'd better make sure your mother knows what you're reading first. For the rest of you, it is Sam/Jack, which I don't ever really see happening on the actual show (I'm okay with that), and if B. Marie were still around, I'd say to her: "See? I can too write romance." Because she said I couldn't, and up until now, she was right. I'm dedicating this opus to Squinch, who lit the way when it got dark.Spoilerwise, this assumes you've seen everything through the fourth season, even if I haven't.
