"Afterimages", your title is stupid. IT MAKES NO SENSE!
Story of my writing career! When I started There Is No Death, There Is Only Wrath, I had no idea what I was doing, I just pasted the story text into a new post and realized I needed a catchy phrase under which to dump words. And then people read it and I thought "wow, maybe if you'd put sixty seconds' thought into it to begin with, the title wouldn't suck, but now people are looking at it and JUDGING YOU for your crappy post title." Rinse, repeat, for every storyline I do.
Seriously, writing. How can you give so many excitingly varied ideas, then dump the same words, phrases, and sense of humor on all of them? I need at least one voice per story setting, thanks, not 'Bright Ephemera's' (by the way that's a stupid name and you should've thought of a better one) uh, 'Bright Ephemera's Preferred Semblance of Wit Says the Same Thing in a Slightly Different Setting.' Oh, and why can't you think of ideas for your most popular thread? Furthermore, would it kill you to maybe give me an idea of what's coming down the pike more than 1000 words from now? No? Both Ruth and Nalenne sort of spilled out as I went, which was a hilarious ride but means that I'm sitting here now racked with regret, wishing I had made pretty plot arcs and consistent thematic contributions and stuff. I didn't, because I didn't even think to use the superb planning bits of my brain, because my muse just ran up and smacked me with a baseball bat until I agreed to post something right that minute. Then wandered off for a couple of hours, then came back and did it again.
Why do you toy with me, words? When I carry a notebook, inspiration only strikes when I'm driving. When I put a voice recorder next to the driver's seat, inspiration only strikes when I'm showering or otherwise still unable to capture thoughts. (I have been known to hop out of the shower to write two or three really promising/evocative words on the fogged-up mirror before getting back to washing up.) I'm sure you enjoy making me sprint past my husband repeatedly mumbling a good turn of phrase so I won't forget it before I reach pen and paper once I get home from work, but my husband would probably enjoy not having quite such a difficult time share with you.
Oh, and could you not prompt an alternate universe that makes my inner feminist cry as a bunch of men do active interesting things around a completely helpless woman? Did you spend even two seconds thinking that through before the words started spilling out? No? Well, could you just stop it where it is? No? Figures.
Finally: In three months you've generated 250,000 words of more or less coherent stories. Could you consider doing something original? Like I always dreamed of? Pretty please?