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					personal assistant by Xenakat?? (no author declared under the title) http://xenite.simplenet.com/fanfiction/p/personalassistant1.html SYNOPSIS: Kate (the compulsory woman with the washboard abs) becomes the personal assistant of Jessica Ryan, the actress who chewed up and spat out every other personal assistant before now and suddenly develops a heart of gold because this gorgeous woman walks into her life. Sound familiar? EWOK: like abs 'neath the bilious green sports bra, so are the cliches of our lives... SYNOPSIS (cont): Can the characters (or the author for that matter) make anything work in this tragic mess? EWOK: Houston, we have a problem. NANCY: Eeegads, introduced by Byron's "She walks in beauty like the night...", the world's most over-quoted icky poem. And I haven't even started reading the story yet. Bad? EWOK: Bad doesn't begin to describe it. NANCY: Oh god, I can't. I just CAN'T. The first two pages are like a character resume, after that we jump from one person's head into another ... clunky, impersonal, and it gives away the plot in the first five pages. Can you believe that the Bard's Corner is really an invitation only site? What is MaryD ON these days? Too much of everything. Every time the characters make a speech it comes out in this exact formula: "commiseration" + "consolation" + "I had that experience too once" + "life story" = "moral of the story". Uggh. The moral of this story seems to be less is more. excerpt: ...her subconscious mind taking note of the fresh spring smell of cologne that seemed to come from her rescuer. She knew it was somehow familiar, but she couldn't remember from where. NANCY: <waving hand in the air> I know, it's from every other uber ever written!! EWOK: Now you know that's not true. Sharon Bowers mentions "coriander" once or twice. NANCY: I wish just once the Uber characters would say "Damn, I've never seen you before in my life, and I don't know you for shit. I do not have some kind of weird recognition thing going on..." EWOK: You're obviously not the mushball romantic type then, Nancy. There's always some kind of recognition thing going on between the truly soppy. Speaking of which, don't I know you from somewhere? NANCY: <sign against evil> Besides, Ewok, you're the slash and burn type, not the warm and fuzzy type :) Then again, have you dry-cleaned your fur lately? EWOK: I wondered what that smell was. AESOP: It was all so simple in my day. EWOK: It still is that simple. Turkey. Sweat hut. Nancy? NANCY: She can't decide if her cat's name is Violet or Veronica. 'Nuff said. I've struggled through most of this story and can't bear any more. I think it's MY turn to run to the sweat hut to cry :(