cimorene: (call ikea)
I just had a pretty surreal experience.

About 10 years ago, in a long-abandoned fandom, I had one of those ideas that you talk about in chat without meaning to write because it seems unmanageable for some reason, like maybe too long or too much work or too angsty, and in this case, it was because I had a vision of a 20-year-long plot arc but with a giant puzzle piece missing from the middle. I had a vague sense that the answer should be obvious to me, that it was staring me in the face somehow or I was looking at it upside down, but the whole idea was silly anyway. However, I was easily persuaded to write a few individual pieces from it as vignettes (oh, and apparently the last bit was only 7 years ago).

I hadn't given the story any thought in years, and I was never particularly stressed about figuring it out, but just now I was reading something by somebody else in a completely different fandom and I suddenly looked up like my ears were ringing, and then, prompted by an abstruse connection between the reading material and a couple of conversations I had last week with [personal profile] perhael about yet a third fandom, I suddenly knew what the missing piece was.

In fact it seems both laughably obvious and inevitable, like I can't believe I didn't figure it out before, like I had a key in a lock upside down. I haven't even heard from the friend I was writing it for in years, I think...

I hope my brain hasn't been wasting resources running that process in the background all this time.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (helen kane)
For most of the month of November (though not since) I managed to write almost every night, and I created a cozy little routine of fixing cocoa with amaretto in it and taking the laptop into the library with me and making a cocoon of blankets on the sofa there, where it's cooler than the rest of the flat and very dark and quiet. It's like being in a bubble, which is necessary because otherwise I am too easily distracted.

But writing only late at night, after putting the bunnies to bed and feeding the cats, doesn't leave that much time for it, because I can't easily stay up half the night anymore. I've been meaning to try to transfer this routine to the daytime, but that feeling is elusive. The library's just as cool and quiet, but when there's sunlight - which okay, is only between 9 am and 3 pm or something like that, but still most of the day - it doesn't feel cocoony at all, because there's stuff in my peripheral vision. (It would probably be soothing to write inside a pod, but unfortunately I don't have one.) Probably if I hadn't gone so long with writer's block I would not struggle so much with distraction, but the only way to fix that is to make new routines...
cimorene: A vintage nouveau illustration of a reclining woman embracing the enormous head of a dragon (love)
Children produce a lot of art and writing and for the most part I'm not too sad about things lost to the sands of time, but I do wish I had the full-length parody of The Raven I wrote at age 13 about a seagull that steals someone's book while they're reading on the beach.
cimorene: (gr arg)
It's quite poignant to have 100 works uploaded to AO3 (although honestly, some of them are just polished comment- and chatfics that don't really belong there, but it seems even sillier to take them down now they've already been there for a while) and not have written anything in 4 years except Yuletide.

When I was a teenager, I stayed up all night writing RPF more times than I stayed up all night writing essays.

At this point writing 200 words of fiction in a day, like I did yesterday, is an infinite improvement over every day since last Yuletide deadline, but my main reaction is still "This is nothing compared to my high point in 2007-8 when 6000 words a day wasn't unusual."

I think there's a little thread of feeling chuffed under there, but it's hard to feel it.

The Itch

5 Oct 2016 01:35 pm
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (sleek & stylish)
I remember reading one time that they mapped the part of your brain that makes you want to write and it's completely independent from the bits in charge of actually writing, which explains neatly why adjusting my medication dose seems to have suddenly made me want to write something so much it's kind of like my brain is itching, even though when the feeling started, I didn't have any ideas that were approaching ready to be started.

Since then I've managed to assemble most of the concept for one and could nearly start writing, once I make a few more decisions like POV and time frame, thanks to [personal profile] lately and [profile] sandwich_armada's stints as encouraging sounding boards, [personal profile] waxjism researching a bunch of things about hockey that she didn't already know (which is really remarkable given how much trivia she sucks up on a daily basis), and [personal profile] perhael's patience in listening to several full elevator pitches about Sidney Crosby's ass even though she feels about sports like I did a couple of years ago and is full-time in Jrock fandom these days.

I went to look at the Yuletide signups, but after poking around a bit I wasn't that confident about enough fandoms to offer so decided to try to write some treats once Yuletide Madness opens instead. I guess we'll see. Trying to take a break from a WIP for Yuletide and then come back to it has historically gone awry for me in the past. You can't always find the groove again.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (interrupted)
It's the Yuletide reveal!
Never Let No One Man Worry Your Mind (5538 words) by cimorene
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Singin' in the Rain (1952)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Cosmo Brown & Don Lockwood, Cosmo Brown/Other(s)
Characters: Cosmo Brown, Don Lockwood
Additional Tags: Queer Gen, Queer History, vaudeville, Chicago, Friendship, Drag Queens, Queer Themes, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Queer Culture
Summary:

"Cos! Thank God you're alive, I thought my double act was about to become a single," Don said. "Where have you been?"


"In jail," Cosmo whispered back, "Happy birthday."


Don clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks; you're a little late, but... in where?"


"Keep your voice down," hissed Cosmo, just as a hail of applause blew the curtain back and practically deafened him. "In jail."



I got assigned my all-time favorite movie since childhood again, which is always exciting, and seeing my recipient was interested in Cosmo's roots got me even more excited to research because I've always wanted to know more about vaudeville.

I had a great time learning about it, a very frustrating time trying to learn about queer culture of the time, and went way overboard listening to period music to use (there's a playlist, but that's less than 1/5th of the music I downloaded - I listened to 1900-1930 pop hits for about a month, prompting [personal profile] waxjism and [personal profile] perhael to worriedly tell me to relax, 50 tracks is enough!! etc several times).

I've always shipped OT3 (and written it), and it was almost an accident that I arrived at the decision to write their love as brotherly here (but still very much the center of the story), but once I decided it went surprisingly smoothly.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (working)
... I was going to say 'non-writers', but I don't know, maybe my therapist actually is a writer. He thinks I should try to tackle my writer's block - brought it up, even, when I wasn't talking about writing but about the creative stuff I wanted to find time for this summer (painting and sewing kinda stuff from a short to-do list).

He explained the concept of freewriting to me, and it was surreal to have it defined by someone who didn't presume you'd already know about it. To me it's foremost a weird hobby I shared with friends at age 12-14ish, writing and typing outlandishly pointless stream of consciousness things (but trying to make them funny), and then swapping between classes and writing comments on each others'. And I've done it when feeling emo as a young adult, too. I never considered it a writing exercise those times, because they were well before writer's block. Of course I haven't done anything like it for a very long time, but the lingering familiarity lends the whole idea of using it in this novel way — for writer's block — a piquant alienation.

(The following were tweeted and have been moved here:)

I tried 20 minutes of freewriting, but I didn't manage to write everything that crossed my mind because I was worrying at the logistics of
That One Novel that I haven't managed to write for the past mumble years I've had the idea.

This is really the only idea TO worry at when it comes to thinking about Writer's Block, even though it's really less than half of one.

Because it's been like YEARS since I could feel any enthusiasm about writing anything fannish.

I can't believe I wrote like 100 50 thousand words of a *secondary pairing* in bandom. Geez.


Though I do get excited about Yuletide, but it's also quite different with a rare fandom — and Yuletide is almost the only stuff I've written since bandom, except four years ago when I filled a few kinkmeme prompts.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (Default)
I just realized that I forgot to post this here when I posted it to Tumblr on the 1st.

The Affair of the Private Affairs of Miss Lemon (3069 words) by cimorene
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Agatha Christie's Poirot (TV), Poirot - Agatha Christie
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Hercule Poirot, Arthur Hastings, Felicity Lemon, James Japp
Additional Tags: Queer Themes, Queer Gen
Summary:

"I wonder why Miss Lemon hasn't married," said Hastings presently.

"Indeed, Hastings?"

"I mean, she's not bad-looking!" said Hastings. "As a matter of fact, Poirot, she's a very attractive girl."

"Oui, mon ami, and she has also the filing system most excellent."



I must thank [personal profile] waxjism and [personal profile] perhael, by convention, for their assistance with this story, although I think they're too involved with hockey and J-rock respectively to notice the omission if I didn't.

The main thing is to thank my recipient, though, for the opportunity to venture a small amount of Poirot pastiche. I've had ideas about dialogue and narration bouncing around in my head for ages, without enough unified direction to turn into a story until now. It was lots of fun and gave me an excuse to rewatch about half of the Suchet episodes again.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (domestic)
So, around Christmas, after the first couple of interest-gauging posts I made on the subject, I started thinking about running a Legolas/Gimli fest. But early in January, before I had progressed to planning anything, someone enthusiastic zoomed in and adopted the idea, decided to run a Big Bang instead of some other kind of fest, made the rules and set up the community herself, and then closed sign-ups within like 2 weeks (I think?) before I got around to visiting the community she made. She and other (young?) people on Tumblr are referring to the pairing exclusively as "gigolas" now.

So although I did want to participate initially, the window passed before I made up my mind whether a Big Bang in general, or that time frame in particular, was doable considering my general lack of writing over the past few years.

(It's kind of appalling to think how little I've written in a few depressed years without a fandom to belong to, compared to how much I wrote in 2006-2008, or the speed at which I wrote my teenie badfic - not that I want to return to my age 20 levels of planning and proof-reading.)

At any rate, it would have been a relief to have someone who actively wanted to organize things doing so in principle, but I missed the boat and hence the added incentive to actually write a story. But then again, I haven't really recovered from midwinter, so who knows if I'd actually have written or just dissolved into agonized procrastination, even for a more length-agnostic fest like I was imagining.

Now I'm back to pre-December status, i.e. wondering if I actually have enough creative energy & drive to decide to write a new Legolas/Gimli story, let alone to actually plot one.

I think part of the problem is that after Martin Freeman's rape joke, my brain somehow conflated my "ugh Freeman" and my ever-escalating disgust with Moffat for a giant ball of ICK that leads to a slippery slope of enumerating to myself, with blazing eyes of flame, all the things about them that are enraging. This has made it a lot harder to get into the new Hobbit movie.

I mean, I actively enjoyed the first one and am the opposite of disturbed by the movies being made longer; I can see where reviews that find the length boring and unnecessary are coming from, but I enjoy Middle Earth on film too much for that, and I don't need anything to be happening in it to be enthralled, basically. But every image of Freeman is still acting on me like a giant pile of fresh, stinky dog poop, possibly on fire, within arm's reach of my face: GET IT AWAY FROM ME, UGH UGH UGH, lots of upset scrunched-up facial expressions etc.

I mean I have no doubt that plenty of men in Hollywood have made equivalent rape jokes, odds are one in every show or movie. And the dude is no Jared Padalecki - his microaggression didn't have a person as its object, and he didn't try to claim reverse oppression or anything. So I'm not actually planning to boycott films he's in - on the contrary, I do want to see The Hobbit, even if it is still an undeniable sausagefest where literally everyone is white. But I just... am finding the dog poop effect is currently effectively killing my fannish enthusiasm. Hopefully the effect will fade when the association is less... fresh.

But meanwhile it dampened my excitement for the new movie down to a kind of sluggish, listless trust that I will no doubt probably hopefully enjoy it when I get around to seeing it, under a lot of procrastination.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (workout)
So I saw a remark on Pinboard that perfectly encapsulated my sense of 'WHY' when reading a lot of old fandom fic, and also about my own teeniefic: "hilariously unsexy".

"Hilariously unsexy" certainly doesn't cover everything unique about old fandoms or teeniefic; it just captured the thought that had been on the tip of my tongue as well after reading a lot of old Legolas/Gimli fic (and also the problem with the ones I wrote) (not ALL Legolas/Gimli by any means, just a lot of it).

Obviously, writing sex isn't the only thing that gets better about one's writing with practice, but I started thinking about how that is true of all my teeniefic. Trying to write better sex is, I think, something many of us have struggled with, and I often got hung up at that bit in a story and went back to look at my older ones over the years, trying to analyze which bits I'd done right and wrong. So while it wasn't a straight upward trend in my own eyes - there are some I liked better and some I hate completely - in general, it got better.

I was musing that I actually remember the first time I read many of the stories that now appear to have glaring weaknesses in the sex sections, and I clearly remember liking them or loving them at the time. I remember finding them hot at the time.

"So in my defense, I also genuinely liked reading hilariously unsexy sex at the time," I mused.

But it wasn't that. It wasn't like I thought, "I'm going to read some sexy sex and I love that. Now I'm going to read unsexy sex and I like that too." (Not ruling that out. I do it sometimes. Getting the giggles isn't necessarily a detriment.)

Ultimately I realized that at the time, I couldn't tell the difference between sexy and hilariously unsexy sex scenes (has the word 'sex' lost all meaning for anyone else or should I type it a few more times?). I'm not sure it actually occurred to me that the world contained both of those things. I literally could discern no difference among sex scenes; they were essentially all the same to me, although of course, sometimes I'd like one better or worse, and sometimes I wouldn't like one, but that was usually a matter of squicks or wandering bodyparts or unreadable punctuation - certainly not a matter of unsexiness.

And then I realized something else. The reason the sex scenes in slash mostly all seemed quite sexy to me was that in comparison to the sex scenes I'd been exposed to until that point, they were. Read more... )

Even sex that is hilariously unsexy by fandom standards is usually sexier than the average published sex scene.

Only after reading tons of slash, for a long time, did the shapes of 'good' and 'bad' emerge from the mist. It was sort of the way I learned to distinguish between Swedish and Finnish vowel sounds that don't exist (or are grouped together as only one sound) in English. It took a lot of listening for that, just as it took a lot of reading during which 'unsexy' and 'sexy' sex writing became clearer and clearer.

And now, of course, the difference between "yö" and "öy", and between the various sounds covered in Swedish by Å, O, and U, seem blindingly obvious, just as bad sex writing does, but I can still clearly remember when it just sounded like Wax and my teacher were repeating the same exact sound over and over again and expecting me to hear the difference, like Lina's diction coach in Singin' in the Rain.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (friends)
I keep thinking I have a pithy one-liner to post to Twitter, then accidentally posting a whole blog entry's worth.

Lately I have occasionally had those moments where I suddenly think I would really like to write right now - like I just swallowed a giant, burning gulp of inspiration. It feels like when a fist-sized lump of hot chocolate gets momentarily stuck in your throat on the way down, kind of like "WHOA". But then I instantly seize up because write what?

That's the problem with not having an active fandom. The one that's occasionally keeping me up at night, or causing me to wail "I JUST WANT TO READ A NEW, LONG, AWESOME, NON-AU, EMOTIONALLY SATISFYING OTP FIC" is Sid/Geno, so, HOCKEY, ugh, thanks [personal profile] thefourthvine, and there is no chance of me learning enough stuff about hockey to write anything in that fandom.

There isn't a high output rate for the fandom anyway, so I've been rereading from my own old recs for a month now, everything from The Hobbit (new) to the Dresden Files and Smallville (4-10 years old, completely unfamiliar with canon) to Star Trek (my 2nd-oldest fandom).

Yuletide can be a good outlet for these kinds of inspiration breakouts, and I am a bit sad that I Noped out of it, to borrow a turn of phrase from ([personal profile] lazulisong?).

But it's probably good because energy is unpredictable and I keep getting unexpected writing assignments in Finnish, which, while fun, take a lot more out of me. It's emotionally draining to try to write things that I literally do not know how to express and ending up with sentences that I'm 100% sure are ungrammatical but which I have no way to correct. (Teachers don't like when you ask your wife, so I only use her as an enhanced dictionary, not a grammar checker.) (Besides, she sucks at explaining language, even though she has the nerve to be better at it than me.)

I can't even take impromptu kink meme prompts or anything to blow off steam because of the lack of active fandoms! I couldn't even pick a kink meme! And I can't go work on an original novel because I'm still mired in the research phase there, unfortunately. Fuck being mired in the research phase, seriously.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (Default)
The other day in the shower I had an epiphany that I will never be able to ~move on from the unfinished novels that are contributing to my writer's block if I don't post them, so I got rid of the 8-year-old one and the 5-year-old one, both of which present practical difficulties that I haven't figured out yet. (And if you haven't figured out a plot snarl in 5 years, you probably won't.) And I do already feel a bit lighter, actually!

The first one was my original SGA Harlequin, actually started before the original Harlequin challenge and never finished in spite of all [personal profile] isilya's efforts. I got through the arranged marriage bit but then I kinda lost steam without writing the conflict. And the second one is a medieval Vampires vs Werewolves MCR AU. I'm still sad about this one - I loved the premise (which was inspired by header spelunking back in the day) and it was so fun. I bit off more politics and warfare and action than I could chew with the plot, though.

The Trophy Husband (18974 words) by cimorene
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Summary:

"I would marry you--actually get married to you--we would be spouses--"


"Yes, yes, yes, holy matrimony, husband and husband, yes."


"And in return you would pay for all the medical care my mother needed."


"I think that's the point. Yes."


"So we would get married, and then I would, what, I would be your wife?"


The Midnight Council (42323 words) by cimorene
Fandom: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Characters: Mama Way, Mikey Way
Summary:
Gerard, the child of a forbidden love between vampire and werewolf, ascends the throne of werewolf clan Wajdra at the tender age of eleven. The political situation between the dwindling numbers of the werewolves and their ancient enemies, the vampires, is precarious at best, and when his vampire mother and brother retreat to Transylvania, the only one Gerard can truly trust is Frank, the little werewolf cub who swore himself Gerard's liegeman the very day that they met. Gerard and Frank are raised side-by-side in the castle in a political tinderbox, but as Gerard's coming-of-age approaches, a war between vampires and werewolves looms ever nearer, while humans encroaching on their territory threaten both with extinction.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (writing)
...that if you want to read something enough and somebody else hasn't written it, you eventually start wanting to write it.

Writer's block and associated problems like it aside, that's still a waste if nobody else wants to read it. In this case, where I feel moved to write simultaneously cracky and emotionally intense This Old House RPS, I am sure that Wax would read it but I wouldn't describe her feelings in that sort of situation as wanting to read it. I mean, she'd probably enjoy it, but it's mostly loyalty. Then I guess you can always count on like, 2 random anons and 1 wildcard person who appears out of nowhere and says they liked it, but still, that's pretty much wasted effort that could be better spent on a less crack-addled idea.

On the very very sad but potentially useful hand, though, I have nearly run out of online episodes of This Old House, so presumably when I have to stop watching the desire to read will abate too. Although then I can start watching Ask This Old House...
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (yes)
I am feeling so very emotionally healthy right now that when I talk to my therapist, it's mostly about:

  1. The other people in my life that I'm worried about, and recapping my mental processes wrt how I can help them (the dog being sick, my sister transferring to Tulane even though it costs like 50k, my wife being unemployed and depressed)


  2. The fact that school is boring and frustrating and my day-to-day struggles to cope with my frustration without getting either unreasonably angry or slightly insane


  3. My persistent writer's block that has been persisting for like YEARS now
.

It does seem a bit unfair to agonize over writer's block to a therapist, right? It's not just me? I mean, he doesn't complain about it and he actually occasionally tries to make suggestions (potentially useful albeit not particularly original, like free writing and how you can think about it to try to remove the performance anxiety), but without any experience of being a self-absorbed frustrated creative ~artiste~ - or perhaps I'm underestimating the value of basic human empathy or something.

Possibly I'm just feeling guilty because I'm starting to feel like I might be doing too well to actually need to see a therapist. I guess he does have time in his schedule since he doesn't seem to have any trouble fitting me in, though, in spite of the advertised lack of mental health professionals in the city.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (writing)
You know when you start drawing a person without a clear image of the whole body in your head, and you start in a weird place, and then as you move out into the rest of the body you don't pay attention so you get something wrong? And then when you finish the whole thing you're maybe baffled and you don't know why it looks wrong until you eventually realize that you took a wrong turn somewhere and drew the neck sticking out too far so the whole body is in the wrong place now, or you got the angle/perspective/whatever wrong because it's meant to be 3/4 profile and the entire left side of the body should be closer to the viewer and so the shoulder is too long which is making it look enormous or else like it's in a funhouse mirror? Or whatever.

Anyway. The point is that at any given point in a drawing if you just are looking at the last little bit you drew, and the next thing you draw matches that, you can still fuck up pretty badly in terms of the last bit not matching the first bit. You can kind of... veer off course.

And I think that happens with stories too.

I was looking at the folder of (long) abandoned WIPs, again, because of how I had that laughable resolution to try my hardest to actually get rid of some of them and I... haven't actually posted any this year (I got rid of 2 of them in 2011! ... But they were the two shortest ones I had).

I was looking at this one story, and I did actually have a rough plot idea in mind for it, but it was one that refused to ever become fleshed out no matter how much I worried at it mentally, just a couple of snapshots of dialogue from near the end which, in all honesty, didn't need to have any relationship to the beginning I'd already written at all. And then I realized that that was because basically the entire second half didn't work because it was getting too cracky - and if I cut it, the entire plot idea would have to go too - leaving me with a vignette and a vague idea of the dialogue for a much-much-later romantic climax scene, but without any way whatsoever for the former to become the latter.

See... I have this problem where if I have two tiny little wisps of idea I am far, far too prone to try to combine them. Usually I forget about every other time I have done this and I feel proud of my ingenuity. I think my tiny rodent brain is usually narrating something like "Ooh, I've almost got enough to constitute a plot with that, and I didn't have to work at it at all! Score! I HATE thinking of plots!" - Which is probably the problem, in a nutshell. These combinations can be anything from "It's Sense & Sensibility AND an all-human graduate student AU!" to "He has to hide Jim in the Batcave while assassins are after him AND Jim has to rescue Batman for once AND Jim doesn't realize that they're dating AND Jim figures out his secret identity. By himself." I've had to surgically separate two misshapen baby WIPs that turned out not to taste great together... a lot of times. And even more often, I've just wound up with the result glowering sullenly from my WIP folders, where it burns a hole in my metaphorical pocket for years, without even figuring out what went wrong.

Sadly, I don't think this is the case with all my currently-languishing WIPs. (Because that is at least a marginally simpler thing to tackle than problems like "I can't write action" or "I don't want to write self-sacrificing angsty heartbreak from the POV of John Sheppard ever again".) But maybe I will be able to fix one of them, even if it is by amputating most of it.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (snap)
It DOES feel really weird to write something for a WIP abandoned 5 years ago.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (k/s pondering)
I want to attack my failed resolution from last year more firmly this year. Namely, I want to learn to work on more than one WIP at a time. (Long story, OCD, paralyzed perfectionist yadda yadda.)

On reflection I have decided that I need to work on a different WIP each day, and try to write at least a few sentences of it daily, and that to begin with, I need to pick an order out of a hat. (Last year, no joke, I lost several weeks of actually potentially productive writing days agonizing over which old WIP to try to work on.)

To that end I have grabbed random sentences lacking character or place names which should for the most part be without identifying markers for anything except genre/mood. Pick one or more (but not all of them, because a five-way tie would defeat the purpose) according to any criteria you choose and I can put them in order for an initial schedule that way.

Hopefully having put it in writing, and someplace I can't possibly miss seeing it, will help guilt me into actually doing the writing thing daily, or almost.

Poll #9078 Pick one or more sample sentences using any criteria you like
Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 46


Which order should I work on the WIPs?

View Answers

"Oui, mon ami, and she has also the filing system most excellent."
17 (37.0%)

In a city like Vienna where pickpockets could rub elbows with princes in the streets, vampires and werewolves must also coexist: ordered their coats at the same tailors, bowed at the same courts and played cards at the same parties.
13 (28.3%)

As usual, his brother made his arrival with the force of a storm wind, the grace of an angry swan, and all the subtlety of a lightning strike.
17 (37.0%)

He had surprisingly nice handwriting for a man who didn't have to insert his own cufflinks if he didn't feel like it.
25 (54.3%)

"It's not so much the danger to me, because of my time in the dark arts, and I've been to the Other Side before of course - I mean, it's not like I get off scot free, it's more or less a pint of blood here or there, normal hazards of the trade."
8 (17.4%)

cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (i <3 punctuation)
Oh hey, I wrote a fic. Excellent Judgment (at AO3). X-Men, Charles/Erik, explicit sexual content. Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - College/University, Speed-dating, Fluff, Sexual Tension. Words: 10,968.

The prompt (Charles and Moira co-run a speed-dating business and she signs him up as a joke) was chosen almost at random from the kinkmeme: it was meant to be a writing warm-up exercise, but I was having fun and my wife asked me to continue it, so I did.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (writing)
So, this is a saga of woes that looks like excuses, but the reason I'm recording it is that it's actually sorta funny. See, when I got my Remix assignment, I was kind of like "Wow, this could be a challenge!" I dove into reading my assignee's works and started a tab stack of remix candidates and I wasn't whisking through it ultra-fast like last time, but on the other hand I was well on schedule. AND THEN.

↵ I started working
↵ Two equally unexpected sudden OS switches: add days' worth of semi-stressful tinkering in trying to get a satisfactory system going again
↵ In the first of these incidents I lost my browser tabs which included the candidates for the remix story
↵ And in all the excitement I actually mostly forgot about Remix until a week ago.
↵ And then I got a cold and was trying to wait to not feel like my brain was warped by a fever.

And suddenly the deadline is like 6am tomorrow and I don't have the links handy to the stories I was considering using, or even remember what all of them are, and none of them were in fandoms I've written in before in any case, and I'm actually still sick. And also supposed to be spending the day in the countryside tomorrow with the in-laws before my seder dinner party on Monday evening.

So I bowed to my better judgment, backed by Wax, and defaulted. Now I'm a bit bummed about the loss of that opportunity though. In a few weeks when I am healthy and my work practice ends I would really have enjoyed the challenge of tackling a new fandom to remix. :s

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