The other fanfic writing meme
Aug. 21st, 2006 11:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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kennahijja and others: The Post One Sentence From Your WiPs Meme
If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence (or more) from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favourite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).
I have notes and partial versions of various HP stories on my hard drive -- oneshots and short chaptered fics -- which will get posted if and when complete. So here's a clip from five of them as they stand at the moment, in the order most to least likely to be finished.
The screams echo in his ears, in his head, in his mind. Lucius does not even recognise them as his own. Every muscle is tormented, every nerve is on fire, every bone is melting ...
The pain stops. For a moment, Lucius cannot remember where he is, or why he is there. A diary? He registers the sound of desperate sobs, but does not know until much later that they are his wife's. He can feel his robes hang heavy around him, drenched with sweat, as restrictive as chains.
-- Unmarked
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Bernard Lovegood was no-one's idea of a stormy petrel, except possibly his own.
So, when he approached Rita in Diagon Alley that fine April morning, her strong desire to avoid him sprang from mere irritation, not foreboding. She'd heard more than enough of his lunatic theories while her recent Potter interview was being prepared for the presses, and had no desire to listen to him blather on about the latest sightings of Purple-Toed Sticklebacks (or whatever the hell they were called), let alone the secret tunnel into the Gringotts vaults currently being dug for Cornelius Fudge by an army of trained gnomes.
-- A Little Learning is a Dangerous Thing
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In later life, Barty Crouch would sometimes think, with bitter regret, that the first of January 1984 should not have been ordinary. There should have been some portent of what was to come, some warning that this particular New Year's Day would not, as he hoped, mark the passing of the worst year of his life; rather, it would usher it in.
-- Annus Horribilis
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And now there is nothing left for me in this world. I have known love, and I have known hate. I have nurtured, and I have cut down. I have done good things despite doubting they were right, and done evil things yet knowing they were wrong. I have seen the everyday and I have seen the magical, and know that they are but the same at heart, and that our people and theirs, our world and theirs, can equally contain the good and the bad.
-- The Privileged [Merope / Tom Riddle / Cecilia triangle]
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"Well, Miss Granger, do you approve?" he said. There was definitely a touch of irony in his voice, but that wasn't a problem for her. He'd kept things polite enough all morning. She was quite prepared to give as good as she got in the irony department, anyway.
"It's not bad, Professor. I would say it needs a woman's touch, but since the last woman to work here thought electric blue kittens were acceptable décor, you'd probably prefer it as it is."
-- The Man of Destiny [first fic I thought about doing, really: 'this is the only way you'd ever get H/Hr to work']
Lyric: One I remember fondly from my university days.
There's dancing, behind movie scenes
Behind the movie scenes
Sadi Rani
She's the one that keeps the dream alive,
From the morning, past the evening, 'til the end of the light (1990s)
kennahijja and others: The Post One Sentence From Your WiPs MemeIf you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence (or more) from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favourite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).
I have notes and partial versions of various HP stories on my hard drive -- oneshots and short chaptered fics -- which will get posted if and when complete. So here's a clip from five of them as they stand at the moment, in the order most to least likely to be finished.
The screams echo in his ears, in his head, in his mind. Lucius does not even recognise them as his own. Every muscle is tormented, every nerve is on fire, every bone is melting ...
The pain stops. For a moment, Lucius cannot remember where he is, or why he is there. A diary? He registers the sound of desperate sobs, but does not know until much later that they are his wife's. He can feel his robes hang heavy around him, drenched with sweat, as restrictive as chains.
-- Unmarked
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bernard Lovegood was no-one's idea of a stormy petrel, except possibly his own.
So, when he approached Rita in Diagon Alley that fine April morning, her strong desire to avoid him sprang from mere irritation, not foreboding. She'd heard more than enough of his lunatic theories while her recent Potter interview was being prepared for the presses, and had no desire to listen to him blather on about the latest sightings of Purple-Toed Sticklebacks (or whatever the hell they were called), let alone the secret tunnel into the Gringotts vaults currently being dug for Cornelius Fudge by an army of trained gnomes.
-- A Little Learning is a Dangerous Thing
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In later life, Barty Crouch would sometimes think, with bitter regret, that the first of January 1984 should not have been ordinary. There should have been some portent of what was to come, some warning that this particular New Year's Day would not, as he hoped, mark the passing of the worst year of his life; rather, it would usher it in.
-- Annus Horribilis
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And now there is nothing left for me in this world. I have known love, and I have known hate. I have nurtured, and I have cut down. I have done good things despite doubting they were right, and done evil things yet knowing they were wrong. I have seen the everyday and I have seen the magical, and know that they are but the same at heart, and that our people and theirs, our world and theirs, can equally contain the good and the bad.
-- The Privileged [Merope / Tom Riddle / Cecilia triangle]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Well, Miss Granger, do you approve?" he said. There was definitely a touch of irony in his voice, but that wasn't a problem for her. He'd kept things polite enough all morning. She was quite prepared to give as good as she got in the irony department, anyway.
"It's not bad, Professor. I would say it needs a woman's touch, but since the last woman to work here thought electric blue kittens were acceptable décor, you'd probably prefer it as it is."
-- The Man of Destiny [first fic I thought about doing, really: 'this is the only way you'd ever get H/Hr to work']
Lyric: One I remember fondly from my university days.
There's dancing, behind movie scenes
Behind the movie scenes
Sadi Rani
She's the one that keeps the dream alive,
From the morning, past the evening, 'til the end of the light (1990s)
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no subject
Date: 2006-08-22 06:29 pm (UTC)The lyric is from Brimful of Asha, by Cornershop :)
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Date: 2006-08-22 09:31 pm (UTC)And yes, you're right on the song, of course. :)
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Date: 2006-08-27 10:52 am (UTC)And yes, that song very much says 'university' to me as well!
no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 01:01 pm (UTC)The Crouch story was originally going to be for Gun's VTM contest (hence the '1984' theme), but stalled when I realised how long it would need to be. I've got about 3,000 words of it, but that only gets Barty as far as Azkaban with his wife and the Polyjuice.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 01:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-27 01:56 pm (UTC)