Thirty-Five Owls - author's notes - a.k.a. sleepless goats
I wrote this during Blogathon 2007. For those of you unfamiliar with this particular bit of insanity, it is of the genre of doing mad things in hopes people will give money to charity in your honor, and consists of posting--blog, LJ, what-have-you--every half hour for twenty-four hours.
Yes, this means I wrote this (or rather, the first draft) in one single sleepless night, during which I raised over $250 for Heifer Project International, which has long been my pet (ha!) charity. Rather than simply providing food to families in need around the world, they provide livestock--which provides milk, eggs, wool, labor, and so on according to the kind, as well as, eventually, more livestock. The ultimate gift that keeps giving.
The money I raised was, in fact, enough to sponsor several goats.
And you know it had to be goats.
The response I received, even to such a rushed and sleep-deprived draft, was, frankly, overwhelming; this is possibly the most widely recced and reviewed fic I've written ever, and it didn't even have a title at the time. I have even received two offers to translate it.
It has since been heavily edited, expanded, fleshed out, titled, missing years filled in, etcetera. The excellent Mattador was invaluable. At the moment, this is the only place at which the final version is available.
Most of the literary and cultural references are obvious, but I feel compelled to point out that one of Gellert's comments ("Darling Albus, you really are a contemptible bitch, do you know that?") is almost a direct quote from Israel Regardie, who was writing in response to a pan of his book by his mentor, the infamous Aleister Crowley. (Except in Regardie's case, the salutation was "Darling Alice...") Thank my boyfriend for telling me silly stories about catty occultists.
And read the fic! Grindeldore for Goats, ahoy!