January 22nd, 2011

Rainbow || Rainbow northern lights.

(no subject)

First lines meme 2010:

  • Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank searched the litter for the fire-ended grubs her new charges would consume without significant complaint. (She had learned this through direct communication: they had otherwise latched onto her arm. She gleaned many tidbits of knowledge from her various creatures, usually with subtle observation over dental articulation. She had learned, for instance, to recognise the unique sensation of being watched.)

    In Memoriam, written for tetleythesecond in rarepair_shorts. Amelia Bones’ friends remembering her life at the news of her passing. PG-13 for themes (…I just decided). 2000. I edited it here because it was my first HP fic in a long while and my first fest fic ever while writing a character I had never looked into before. I thus spelled the main character’s name wrong and had more mistakes than I can count. *Blushes.*

  • A woman sat in a chair. (It wasn’t a terribly exciting occurrence, certainly not from a Muggle point of view. What, they would wonder, was so unusual about an old woman sitting in a chair?)

    Postscript, written for tetleythesecond in springtime_gen. Amelia Bones centric. Friendship, war, comedy and tragedy. PG-13 for themes. ~6400.

  • Dust speckled the light streaming through the windows of the store. (It was generally a quiet corner store, mostly underground beneath a pub of regulars. Shelves lined the low-ceilinged room; the spines that protruded spoke of age but also appreciation.)

    The Madmen, the Scarecrow and the Milkmaid, written for featherxquill in hp_beholder. Rita Skeeter/Irma Pince. NC-17. ~2800.

  • Guardian-visitation days at Hogwarts were always interesting. (No other adjective could ever describe them adequately one-hundred percent of the time, but ‘interesting’ never failed. There was little room for solely positive adjectives when dealing with underage witches and wizards in the presence of both their teachers AND their guardians (with each role often playing nemesis in their little tales). However, there was a certain appreciation in the staff rooms for the stories such days created; the anecdotes that arose from these days circulated the castle between staff and students alike for months.)

    The Phoenix and the Toad, written for hp_ssc_fest. Augusta Longbottom/Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank. Inspiration was from tetleythesecond and the prompt was ‘Hogwarts.’ NC-17. ~4100.

  • For the longest time, Minerva never understood her foolish classmates' utter fascination with the male sort. (To her, they seemed not unlike a group of baboons steadily growing hairier, louder, and more aggressive in chauvinistic (or occasionally quixotic) pursuits as the years marched on. She was shocked at the success of these pursuits -- surely it was merely for a lack of better candidates on her fellow females' parts?)

    Unicorn Horn Delight, written for vaysh in minerva_fest. Minerva McGonagall/Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank. Old-fashion butch-femme. NC-17. ~9500.

  • Christmas had rolled around again, the final word before the full stop of New Year’s at the end of that chilly final calendar month December. (For the students it symbolised a break from studies, freedom from school, family time, friends and gifts. For many of the staff it meant quieter halls, end-of-semester marking, bickering over the fairies’ lights, nearly tripping over or stumbling into trees of various sizes and, undoubtedly, the consumption of festive merry-making drinks.)

    Minerva Meddling with Mistletoe, written for minervas_eule in hoggywartyxmas. Septima Vector, Aurora Sinistra, Minerva McGonagall, some friends and an assortment of pairings. Mistletoe misdemeanours. R. ~6100.

  • Luna’s mother always told her she would she make a wonderful mother. (It was evident in the way she cared for the little animals, her mother said: so maternal. She had even dutifully looked after creatures others couldn’t see.)

    Dedicated, written for scarletscarlet in hp_yule_balls. Luna Lovegood/Pansy Parkinson. Luna recovers herself long after the war; Pansy re-dedicates herself to reaching her life aspirations. NC-17. ~10,700.

My realisations:
  • I don’t care about first lines. I know they’re supposed to be end all, be all parts of the story…but if I put too much thought and care to them there will never be a story and they will be the end of it, because I will become a nervous wreck. Sometimes I go back and change them at the end, but then they don’t feel as organic anyway. And generally if someone will choose to read or ignore a story based on the first line…I don’t want the reader anyway. I’m not trying to publish novels; this is for fun. I’m not much of a writer, then, am I? (Also, even the one dialogue first sentence I had was eventually changed because I didn’t like it.)
  • I haven’t written very much, compared to my high school years of fandom. Some may make mention of ‘quality vs quantity,’ which I agree to in some limited capacity, but since I churn out most stories in an evening…there really isn’t an excuse.
  • I need to stop writing stories last minute, no matter how frightened I am of ‘taking on a new character’ or ‘new kink’ or ‘new setting’ or ‘new’ anything. I always get it done, so why not do it earlier? But then…isn’t that my question with everything in life? And how successful have I been with the rest of the lot?
  • I need to stop fearing betas. Or fearing to ask for betas. Or, you know, fearing people reading my writing in general. I need to stop being so hard on myself for my writing. I could do with being my own publications advisor, too, instead of churning out writing, hiding as it’s posted and then shoving it away in some deep dark recess never to be looked at again.
  • I am not fond of my writing until I go back and read it, during which I am amused and affected. But then I never remember that and go back to thinking it’s terrible.
  • I hate titles. I should just title my stories after letters of the alphabet and then the planets and then species of beetles, to save myself the pain of tearing my hair out every time I finish a story and think I am finally done.
  • I enjoy writing but am afraid of having written, which is pretty peculiar.
  • Regardless of the quality or quantity of my writing, due to the points above, I am such a writer, geeze!

And that was my first year officially back in Harry Potter fandom. ~41,600 words...which is less than I wrote in just November for National Novel Writing Month. I'm actually a little ashamed. It's no wonder I don't feel creative anymore!
  • Current Mood
    annoyed Annoyed.
Rainbow || Rainbow northern lights.

(no subject)

It’s time for a rec post! As usual, I am incredibly behind. Let’s get this par-tay started. The ‘my failing’ section is best read after the fic, but since I’ve already flailed all over most of these fics, it will save some time on the posting. If I’m rec’cing them, it means I love them.

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I am missing out on tons and tons, I’m sure, but there we go for now. I’m ashamed to admit how long that took me.


You'll be with me like a hand print on my heart.
  • Current Mood
    sleepy Sleepy.