Meme: Unfinished fics
Nov. 11th, 2003 03:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sarea
Okay, I have a bunch of unfinished stories, but only one on this hard drive, so that's the one I'm sharing.
I don't know if any of you (aside from Lissanne) ever read When I'm Here, which was the first story I ever posted in the HP fandom. *moment of nostalgia* It wasn't the happiest story in the world, and I always had people asking me to "finish" it, because clearly, since it wasn't happy, it wasn't finished. :p Well, as far as I was concerned, the story was complete, and I swore I wouldn't write a sequel to it unless the sequel itself was worthy of a story of its own, rather than a tagalong to the first story, and it wouldn't necessarily "make things right."
Well, a loooong while back, the sequel finally hit me. But I've got a lot of other things on my plate right now, and I'm not sure when or if this story will ever be written. It's not high on my list of priorities, or anyone else's, so it's perfect for this exercise. <g> It's just ... there. This is the very beginning and only goes on for a page or so, so nothing really happens, and it's not that interesting.
Aren't pointless memes great? :D
Unfinished Fic: When I'm Gone
(As it stands, completely unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.)
+++
Oh, my love, please don't cry
I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life
I don't know much at all
I don't know wrong from right
All I know is that I love you tonight
+++
She is your world now; the only reason you are.
When you think of her, your heart aches, your spine tingles, and often, you feel the prickling behind your eyelids that tells you the sadness has welled again and needs relief. She doesn’t know what she means to you ... does she? How can she, really? You tell her in a thousand ways every day; maybe she senses it. When you look into her eyes, those big, gorgeous eyes, you think that you can comprehend the universe, that you can do anything, take on any challenge.
But it lasts only a moment. Though you tell yourself that she is the only companion you need, the loneliness that eats at you a little more each day tells a different story. You want to be strong for her, and most of the time, you’re successful. But too often there are moments when you fear that you might allow yourself to slip through the cracks, and then she will have no one.
+++
“Ginny,” says Seamus, standing at the doorway. “Your brother is here.”
She looks up from the laundry she is folding. “Ron?” she asks. The clothes are still warm from the dryer, and Ginny’s hands are cold. She doesn’t want to leave them cooling on her bed, wasting the heat, but she knows that she cannot ignore one of her brothers in favor of laundry. Such behavior would raise too much concern, and she has been feeling stifled by that too much lately.
Seamus nods, waiting for her to precede him out the bedroom door. Ginny puts what she believes is a smile on her face and prepares to greet her brother. What is he doing here on a Tuesday night, at nine p.m.? She can feel Seamus following behind her.
“Gin!” says Ron with false cheerfulness. The surreptitious look he directs over her head at Seamus makes it clear to Ginny that they have been talking. Again.
“Hello Ron. Harriet.” Ginny leans forward and kisses her sister-in-law on the cheek. “How nice of you to visit.”
Harriet returns the kiss and says, “Well, we were in the neighborhood having supper. We passed by the Talon Theatre and saw that a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream is playing! Ron and I thought that we might all enjoy seeing that together.”
“Isn’t that your favorite Shakespeare play, darling?” says Seamus, sounding jovial.
Ginny flinches. “Yes.” She moves subtly to the side when he moves to put his arm around her. She notices that Ron exchanges glances with her husband again, and is mildly annoyed by how utterly transparent they are. They forget that she used to work in a department at the Ministry that required utmost discretion and subtlety. It has been a little over a year since she resigned her position, but it feels like ages, and must to Ron and Seamus as well, since they treat her as if she has been a homemaker all her life.
“I think that’s a great idea, Harriet,” says Seamus when Ginny does not elaborate or respond to the other woman’s suggestion. “When were you thinking of?”
Harriet looks at Ginny worriedly. “Erm – Ron, what were we saying? Next Saturday, if we can get tickets? If that works for you two, of course.”
“It works for us,” says Seamus firmly, placing an arm around Ginny’s shoulders.
Ginny says nothing. She does not want to go, but then, they know that. She understands that this is an argument she will not win. They are too desperate, too enamored of the idea that they can somehow bring her out of the depression she appears to be suffering from.
She reaches forward to hug her brother and sister-in-law goodbye. She is fond of them, of course, but, mostly, it is so that she can pull away from Seamus’s hold.
+++
In non-meme news, I'm impatient for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
literocracy to begin, so I'm making a post to the community asking for book suggestions from all of you. This is probably one of the last mentions of community business I'll make in this journal, so if you're watching my LJ but not the community, you'll start missing out. :D
Later, gators.
I don't know if any of you (aside from Lissanne) ever read When I'm Here, which was the first story I ever posted in the HP fandom. *moment of nostalgia* It wasn't the happiest story in the world, and I always had people asking me to "finish" it, because clearly, since it wasn't happy, it wasn't finished. :p Well, as far as I was concerned, the story was complete, and I swore I wouldn't write a sequel to it unless the sequel itself was worthy of a story of its own, rather than a tagalong to the first story, and it wouldn't necessarily "make things right."
Well, a loooong while back, the sequel finally hit me. But I've got a lot of other things on my plate right now, and I'm not sure when or if this story will ever be written. It's not high on my list of priorities, or anyone else's, so it's perfect for this exercise. <g> It's just ... there. This is the very beginning and only goes on for a page or so, so nothing really happens, and it's not that interesting.
Aren't pointless memes great? :D
Unfinished Fic: When I'm Gone
(As it stands, completely unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.)
+++
Oh, my love, please don't cry
I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life
I don't know much at all
I don't know wrong from right
All I know is that I love you tonight
+++
She is your world now; the only reason you are.
When you think of her, your heart aches, your spine tingles, and often, you feel the prickling behind your eyelids that tells you the sadness has welled again and needs relief. She doesn’t know what she means to you ... does she? How can she, really? You tell her in a thousand ways every day; maybe she senses it. When you look into her eyes, those big, gorgeous eyes, you think that you can comprehend the universe, that you can do anything, take on any challenge.
But it lasts only a moment. Though you tell yourself that she is the only companion you need, the loneliness that eats at you a little more each day tells a different story. You want to be strong for her, and most of the time, you’re successful. But too often there are moments when you fear that you might allow yourself to slip through the cracks, and then she will have no one.
+++
“Ginny,” says Seamus, standing at the doorway. “Your brother is here.”
She looks up from the laundry she is folding. “Ron?” she asks. The clothes are still warm from the dryer, and Ginny’s hands are cold. She doesn’t want to leave them cooling on her bed, wasting the heat, but she knows that she cannot ignore one of her brothers in favor of laundry. Such behavior would raise too much concern, and she has been feeling stifled by that too much lately.
Seamus nods, waiting for her to precede him out the bedroom door. Ginny puts what she believes is a smile on her face and prepares to greet her brother. What is he doing here on a Tuesday night, at nine p.m.? She can feel Seamus following behind her.
“Gin!” says Ron with false cheerfulness. The surreptitious look he directs over her head at Seamus makes it clear to Ginny that they have been talking. Again.
“Hello Ron. Harriet.” Ginny leans forward and kisses her sister-in-law on the cheek. “How nice of you to visit.”
Harriet returns the kiss and says, “Well, we were in the neighborhood having supper. We passed by the Talon Theatre and saw that a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream is playing! Ron and I thought that we might all enjoy seeing that together.”
“Isn’t that your favorite Shakespeare play, darling?” says Seamus, sounding jovial.
Ginny flinches. “Yes.” She moves subtly to the side when he moves to put his arm around her. She notices that Ron exchanges glances with her husband again, and is mildly annoyed by how utterly transparent they are. They forget that she used to work in a department at the Ministry that required utmost discretion and subtlety. It has been a little over a year since she resigned her position, but it feels like ages, and must to Ron and Seamus as well, since they treat her as if she has been a homemaker all her life.
“I think that’s a great idea, Harriet,” says Seamus when Ginny does not elaborate or respond to the other woman’s suggestion. “When were you thinking of?”
Harriet looks at Ginny worriedly. “Erm – Ron, what were we saying? Next Saturday, if we can get tickets? If that works for you two, of course.”
“It works for us,” says Seamus firmly, placing an arm around Ginny’s shoulders.
Ginny says nothing. She does not want to go, but then, they know that. She understands that this is an argument she will not win. They are too desperate, too enamored of the idea that they can somehow bring her out of the depression she appears to be suffering from.
She reaches forward to hug her brother and sister-in-law goodbye. She is fond of them, of course, but, mostly, it is so that she can pull away from Seamus’s hold.
+++
In non-meme news, I'm impatient for
literocracy to begin, so I'm making a post to the community asking for book suggestions from all of you. This is probably one of the last mentions of community business I'll make in this journal, so if you're watching my LJ but not the community, you'll start missing out. :DLater, gators.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 09:44 pm (UTC)What's interesting here is the difference you've got between "favorite" stories and "good" stories -- I completely know what you mean. However, I think I'd use slightly different terminology. The good stories I can't read over and over because they're too painful, I'd still call my "favorites" (like Rising from Ashes), and they'd probably be stories I'd rec to other people. Then there are the stories that I like to read over and over (usually they'd be considered "favorites," but sometimes, actually not) because I like the way they make me feel, happy and content. Those I may or may not rec.
There was a point to calling out this distinction when I started this reply, and now I've lost it. Must be because I've gotten too little sleep these past two nights and now I'm feeling tired. Yeah, that's it.
Maybe you should just tell me what happens next.
How clever and sneaky of you. Maybe when I work out all the details. Right now, all the ideas are sort of floating about ephemerally in my head. :D (Look, I'm making up words!)
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 10:14 pm (UTC)I've challenged at least five, maybe more like ten, of the most prominent authors in the fandom over points of contention in their stories. Never let it be said that I review to be popular. (Not that they care what I say, but still.) I call it like I see it. Maybe this is why I have no friends in real life, I can't be fake about liking something when I don't. :P
Not to say that I haven't read When I'm Here more than once, although when I've re-read it I haven't been keen on reading to the end. Sometimes I just need my quality D/G smut fix. ;)
It's interesting that you bring up RfA, I was going to mention it originally in my reply but I didn't think it was fair to compare a standalone fic like yours to a novel-length fanfic. We've had this discussion before, reading the novel-length stuff makes you really invest into it and it's pretty devastating not to get a good ending. I mean, if Jade had just left Our Winter *perish the thought* without the epilogue I would have very similar feelings towards it as to RfA.
Anyway, that said. Probably the most apt story to bring up in this situation is Anise's Requiem for Draco's Dream, which was for a long time possibly my favorite one-shot even with the less than satisfactory ending. Although maybe that's because I refuse to give up on the idea that D/G can still end up together in that universe. Anyway, Candle in the Window has totally replaced it as my favorite one-shot because the ending is so much more hopeful. I guess even though I'm a sucker for angst I'm still looking for happy resolutions, because the angst 'earns' it.
But yeah, for me, favorite does imply that I want to read the story over and over again. I can rec "good" fic, but I prefer to read "favorite" fics. These days there are very few stories on that list of favorites. I blame you and Jade entirely for raising my expectations to impossibly high standards of writing, when I used to be at least marginally content with ff.net. *glares*
You'll just have to make up for it by telling me what happens next. :D
novel-length vs. standalone
Date: 2003-11-11 11:40 pm (UTC)I do like the occasional open ending though in a stand alone.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 11:52 pm (UTC)But, there's a convenient example that goes back to the original topic of this entry (isn't it nice when it works out that way?) -- WIH was never actually meant to be posted. Jade and I had just gotten into the HP fandom, and I was bemoaning the lack of readable smut for my ship of choice. Smut was second nature in my old fandom, and I wasn't new to writing it, so I figured I'd just write a little something to entertain myself (because, as you know, many of us write the stories we want to read). Thus WIH was born -- just a fun, fluffy smutfest. There was a bit of angst, but ... guess what? It ended happily. There was very little conflict, and it was quite boring, the smut aside. (Or in fact, the instant smut without any angst even made that more boring than it should have been.)
I showed it to Jade, and she said, "Oh, you should post it." So I noodled with it a bit, to get it ready for public consumption, but still, I was unhappy with it and could not bring myself to show it to anyone. So I rewrote the ending and fiddled with other parts, until it resembled a story I would be happy to have attached to my name. :D Weird, huh?
Your compliments are going to make my head expand to epic proportions. I can barely fit it through the door as it is. Heehee.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 11:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-12 12:03 am (UTC)As for your hypothetical backstory to WIH, I think that's entirely justifiable. One of the reasons I personally liked the story was because I could think of a multitude of ways to end it/have it go, and I was good with all of them. So why not make it so that any one could be possible? You could end it for yourself any way you liked. : )