It's been a year now since the plot bunnies pinned me down with my own bedsheets, jumped all over my face, and demanded that I write an epic Frozen story. Rather than suffer the Death of a Thousand Hops, I relented and started writing.
Now, 372 days and 15 chapters later, the end is in sight. So far, I've given the bunnies everything they want: action, romance, mystery, comedy, drama, drinking songs, sexual innuendo, sexual not-so-innuendo, the works. All they demand now is a spectacular grand finale, the tying up of loose ends, a bit more gettin'-it-on, and some laughter and tears, and then they'll let me go.
I will accede to their demands. But I know the truth: that they are almost certainly lying their floppy little ears off. I don't think they have any intention of letting me go--I think they are going to make me write a SEQUEL.
Oh, God, I think one of them just hopped by and saw me posting this message instead of writing chapter 16. Gotta go!