Carver Edlund (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} _prophet) wrote, |
Chuck leans his head against the computer monitor for a second, making a face. He sort of really hates writing fight scenes - it’s easier to just sort of gloss over the whole deal, and tell what the end results are. Because, really, he doesn’t know the ins and outs of fighting, let alone when the fight is two well-trained hunters who are probably about evenly matched. And then there’s the whole thing about figuring out how to put it into words, which - he’ll be the first to admit that he’s not the best writer in the world...
He takes a drink from the bottle in front of him - beer, ‘cause it’s before lunch and he doesn’t drink the hard liqour until at least noon - and drums his fingers on the desk for a few minutes, opens a game of solitaire. Loses the game. Loses minesweeper a dozen times in the span of thirty seconds before he gives up on that, too. None of this is very productive.
“Screw it,” he mutters, opening the document back up. He’ll skim over the fight part - he’s got a deadline, and if he doesn’t meet it with at lest a rough draft, they’re gonna drop his contract and then he’ll have nothing, and have to get a job flipping burgers or paper or plastic? and he really doesn’t think he’d like that very much. Really, really wouldn’t like that.
So, that in mind, he makes a note - [NOTE: Finish fight scene. Dean wins. They go back to glaring and using words.] - and skips down the page a few lines, and then keeps going.
Sam stepped back, putting space between them. The fighting was over, but he wasn’t entirely sure Dean wasn’t still pissed off enough to throw another punch...