They came a-visiting today.
They bounced all over the place, dropping unwanted characters and weird tangents all over my redraft. One plot bunny in particular was drunk.
Now I find myself cleaning up the mess. My favourite scene is broken, another a bit singed. And a little lass—who has murder and mayhem in her liquid brown eyes—has decided she likes it here. I guess she’ll stay.
As for the other bunnies, they’ve moved on.
No doubt they’re just down the street, already gambolling in someone else’s writing.