WIP VENTING POST 2.0

[fahye]

I remember doing this earlier in the year, and I found it very cathartic. This post is for anyone in the middle of writing a fic (or many fics!) and it's so we have a chance both to share illustrative snippets and to bitch about how recalcitrant out fics are being.

(Also, PSA: I'm not doing Yuletide this year because I finish exams on November 28th and then I have exactly one week in which to frantically go shopping for Europe and then I leave on December 7th! So...no.)



(1)

"Caspian," he says.

It is not the first time he has said your name without the sharpness of anger or the urgent roar of the battlefield, but the word is soft and uneven and so for a moment it doesn't sound like him at all. You glance upwards and are shocked by the age that has fallen over his face.

"By the Lion's Mane, Caspian. Stand up."

This is so close to being finished I can practically TASTE it; all I need is a few glasses of wine and a few quiet hours, but unfortunately both alcohol and free time are in very short supply around here. liminalliz was invaluable in pointing out what I need to do to make it a well-rounded piece of character narrative. Now if only Caspian were that cooperative.


(2)

"He...you're wearing my shirt," Tony said, thoroughly distracted from any incipient mutiny. "I like that shirt."

Jarvis shrugged and his mouth curved in a way that was bizarrely, immediately familiar: the exact visual equivalent of the computer's dry voice. "It looks better on me."

I have been writing this since the day I came home from seeing Iron Man at the cinemas. ONE DAY I MIGHT ACTUALLY FINISH IT. It's very silly and it's sort of Jarvis/Tony/Pepper only less geometrical and more ridiculous and I find it a lot of fun to write, but it needs something that even slightly resembles a plot before I can pretend it's a real fic and not a series of amusing disconnected snarkfests.


(3)

"Intercourse," she says, as an experiment, and his face twitches again. "Intercourse, intercourse --"

"Bones!" He glares at her. "Really not as funny as you think."

"I don't see what the problem is, Booth."

...I have a feeling this one appeared in the LAST WIP venting post. Ugh. I adore it, I adore writing Brennan because she comes so easily to me, but it really does need a lot of fleshing-out and plot-building and careful tying together of all the concepts I want to include. It's an EPIC ROMANCE with bonus therapy & flooding & making out. I reeeeeally wish I could finish it.


(4)

The day her feelings progress to the point where her own desires and her desire to cater to Kyon's are exactly balanced, fifty-fifty...well, then it's an even chance, isn't it? Anything could happen. Time could freeze and space could oscillate in the gap between heartbeats, all its atoms and dark matter suspended within the indecision of Haruhi Suzumiya.

This is a pet project which I do not expect anybody else to read or understand, but it is something of a love letter to The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya and Tom Stoppard and themes like spacetime & narrative destiny & the power of free will & probability theory & love as a transformative force. (HEY ARIA. YOU NEED TO WATCH THIS ANIME.) However, every time I open the document my brain tries to burst into tears and then looks around for a gin & tonic.


~

Your turn! Vent, my pretties, vent.

Same guidelines apply as last time: if someone comments with a snippet that you like the look of, leap upon them with encouraging capslock, and maybe we'll all be more productive!

(Basically, the more people I have shamelessly bullying me to write something, the more likely it is to get written. Sad. But true.)