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uhhhh why am I still up, fml fml.
So, I've been thinking a lot about writing, in general (mostly school/life related TBH, but it's totally translated into fandom as well). SO INSTEAD OF MAKING MY rs_games REC POST WHICH WILL BE SOON BUT NOT TODAY, HERE IS A MEME:
Pick a paragraph / passage / scene from any story I've written, and comment to this post ( Read more... )
So, I've been thinking a lot about writing, in general (mostly school/life related TBH, but it's totally translated into fandom as well). SO INSTEAD OF MAKING MY rs_games REC POST WHICH WILL BE SOON BUT NOT TODAY, HERE IS A MEME:
Pick a paragraph / passage / scene from any story I've written, and comment to this post ( Read more... )
Comments 15
so, uh, don't reply yet because placeholder until i go throw out the garbage and come back and figure out which to give you. :D? :D!
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from Haiku for London:He stops in the park to get his bearings. The sky seems wide enough to eat him up, his fingers ache from clenching unconsciously in his pockets, around the bundle of bread and brown paper in his arms; it smells like a frighteningly living thing, wriggling and cooing - though, though it's just the pigeons, he thinks, it's just the pigeons on the sidewalk ( ... )
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He stops in the park to get his bearings. The sky seems wide enough to eat him up, his fingers ache from clenching unconsciously in his pockets, around the bundle of bread and brown paper in his arms; it smells like a frighteningly living thing, wriggling and cooing - though, though it's just the pigeons, he thinks, it's just the pigeons on the sidewalk.
Okay, somehow you managed to pick the crux of this whole little thing, that this story was! WELL DONE. I think this was originally written for a Picture=1000 words challenge, where the deal was you got a picture prompt assigned to you, and had to write exactly 1000 words. Sidenote: the title, Haiku for London, comes from the exactness and brevity of the challenge requirements. This fic also marked a pretty distinct stylistic venture for me - partially out of word-count necessity, but also in trying to convey the kind of grief I imagined (at the time) that Remus was experiencing. It's a terser style than I was used to employing - with far shorter ( ... )
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He feels Remus exhale, his bare arm cool against Sirius’s elbow. Inside, Sirius hears someone - stupid, stupid Peter - turn on the old Vic, and it plays a scratchy swing song. He remembers when he watched Mrs. Potter and Remus dance to it in the hastily-cleared living room, last year, because it was Remus’s favourite song. He closes his eyes, and sees the swish of a blue skirt, twirling bare feet, and discarded heels, lying haphazard by the big, floral chair, where she fed him tea, and soup, and hugged him when he turned up, lost, and he remembers the stupid, wet stain he made on the collar of her blouse, because he couldn’t stop crying.
I love that story and this paragraph, even found that song, and it was awesome!
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I think, as far as I can remember now (into the way back when), that this piece comes from a loosely-linked 'series' called "Interluda"? At the time of writing them, I was pretty firmly obsessed with the idea of trying to formulate some of the lost moments in the MWPP storyline: why and how Sirius ran away, how James's parents died so young. I think my mate blue_thundering (no longer writing HP) wrote a lovely companion Interluda for Snape, too. At the time of writing, I don't think we had a lot of canon details from JKR about the Potters (Senior)'s deaths, so I imagined something quite innocuous, but sudden - a car crash, I think ( ... )
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Ohhh, Angels. This fic sits firmly in a period of my writing where I couldn't really do much more than a series of vignettes, loosely held together by some thin, overarching thread of character, or a reoccurring image. Mostly - in my own adolescent fumblings at the time of its writing - this fic is just about how easy love looks, but how supremely difficult it really is.
This fic was written for the shacking_up Secret Santa exchange, so a lot of the vignette-y bits are me pulling together the little prompts I was given. This postcard bit came from a prompt about including a "love token". I've always been a big fan of the "things not said" line of interaction between characters - and especially Remus and Sirius. There are so many things lurking behind the surface with them that rarely get acted on, I believe, and this postcard from Remus is one of those moments where all his fears, his love, his uncertainty and his tenuous hold on his relationship with Sirius have sort of bubbled up to the surface, and into the ink on the card ( ... )
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So I'm going to do this instead.
... annnnd I can't find what I'm looking for. WHY AM I SO FULL OF FAIL TONIGHT?
ok, from To Sit a Dead Man Between Us, part III, kind of unfair because there is so much surrounding it, did I mention that I am full of fail? I couldn't figure out what part to excerpt. GOD WHY AM I STILL HERE.
Maybe I meant it, he thinks. Maybe you didn’t. Maybe let’s just wait until tomorrow and if everything’s still the same, after everything, maybe we’ll try and change it, then. Maybe I should just sit here and watch you swallow it down, how it is to have that clump of almost scrape at your throat and your guts and all your insides, because you know you can’t say it, can you, he thinks ( ... )
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You can probably tell that much of this fic was more of an exercise than a success - I mean, the entire thing is confusing, and too truncated, and too loosely bound up in the character's expectations, rather than making something legible for a reader, if that makes sense. This scene in particular exemplifies that more than any other singular bit, I think - that this is a story built on what people don't say to one another: that you can go about perfectly happy not really saying anything to anyone, even the people you might care about most in the world, until one day you have to say ( ... )
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etc.
Anyway. I can see how it was an exercise, but I think saying it "fell flat in entirety" is denying yourself some pretty well deserved credit. You might feel more comfortable in Remus' head, but I don't think this story would've worked from his POV. The fact that it is scattered, loosely bound, sometimes confusing, whatever - it all just works so well when you remember, when you think, hey, this guy is starting to go crazy. It shows so well all the little things that are so wrong with his life and his relationships ( ... )
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