6 July check-in

[anehan]

Poll #11058 6 July check-in

Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 12

View Respondents

What did you do today?

View Answers

Wrote.
6 (50.0%)

Edited.
2 (16.7%)

Sent to beta.
0 (0.0%)

Posted.
1 (8.3%)

Plotted.
2 (16.7%)

Researched.
0 (0.0%)

Something else.
1 (8.3%)

Don't ask.
2 (16.7%)

How do you feel about it?

View Answers

Absolutely amazing!
2 (16.7%)

All right.
5 (41.7%)

Could be worse.
3 (25.0%)

It is worse.
0 (0.0%)

Want to hide.
2 (16.7%)

It's Friday, so it's time to post a snippet of your story or ask for beta. Go forth and post!

Comments

[laceblade]

I'm still too afraid to post snippets!

But I've been away/in the woods the last few days, and will still be for a couple days yet (using some free wifi in town at the moment).
I'm glad I brought my laptop with me - I've been able to stay on-target, writing 750 words/day!

I feel okay about my fic right now. So far, this "section 2" isn't coming together quite as nicely as section 1, but that's partly my own fault because I don't have a hard-fast "end goal" for the section yet. Once I do, I'll get there and then go back to tighten the pacing so that it leads the reader there, too.

I'm feeling pretty awesome about writing in general lately, it's kind of great.

[crowdog66]

It's been a frantic week in terms of paying work, so I haven't gotten much done on the writing front. But here's the opening to the latest chapter of "ReBoot: A Miscellany" that I managed to post earlier this week.

*******************************************************

A velvet murmur in the darkness, breathed against the nape of his neck, roused him from a sound sleep: "Bob?"

"Mm?" He was so deliciously warm and comfortable, with a soft pillow under his head, a powerfully muscled naked body pressed against his back and thighs, and a strong arm loosely wrapped around his waist. The bed linens had been scrupulously clean when they'd started, but now they were most satisfactorily rumpled and imprinted with mingled scents: his own, of course, but more importantly, Megabyte's. The overwrite smelled far more delicious to Bob than anything had a right to, especially with a not-so-subtle overlay of sexual musk in the mix.

"What, precisely, did you call me earlier?"

"I called you a lot of things," Bob mumbled without opening his eyes. A slow, wry, sweet smile spread across his face. "Including 'Master' at one point… just don't start getting any —"

"Actually, I was referring to your bastardization of my name."

"Mmm…" A moment's thought brought the incident in question to mind. "What, 'M.B.'?"

"Yes." His rich voice conveyed tart distaste. "That."

Bob grimaced and turned his face to the pillow, hoping the issue would just go away if he gave a strong enough sign of aversion. "Would you rather I called you 'Meggy'? Or 'Megs'?"

"I'd prefer you addressed me properly, if you please."

Bob sighed, put aside any hope of getting back to sleep easily, and turned over, shifting until he could look directly into those brilliantly green eyes with glowing red embers at the heart of them. "Megabyte…"

"See? Is that really so difficult?"

Bob kissed him lightly as a warning, having to exert a considerable amount of willpower not to sink into the contact and start devouring that tempting mouth all over again. Suddenly he was feeling much more wide awake. Megabyte had that effect on him lately. "I like having a private nickname for you that nobody else knows — preferably something that nobody else would dare to use in a million hours." He brought his right hand up to caress his bedmate's long indigo cheek, offering his most persuasive smile. "C'mon, don't try to tell me you really don't —"

The former virus's jewelled eyes narrowed. "This is a sprite thing, isn't it?"

"Well… I guess. Don't viruses —"

"No. We most assuredly do not."

The smile became a grin, and he snuggled closer, tracing the line of that stern jaw with a coaxing fingertip. "Hey, don't get so bent out of shape, M.B. — you're a sprite now yourself, in case you'd forgotten, so maybe you'd better get used to —"

"I see." He half-hooded his eyes ominously. "So if I were to come up with a 'nickname' for you, you'd accept it without a qualm?"

That caught Bob by surprise. "Excuse me?"

[insignia]

Approximately 500 words written of a scene outside my comfort zone. It's really cheesy and awkward for now, but I'm happy anyway. X-D

[snowynight]

This week I posted 6691 words of Searching the Heaven. So far I'm happy for my effort.

[lilly_c]

Last night I got a good chunk of chapter 2 written on Don't Fade Into The Midnight, my goal fic this month. My snippet is from chapter 1.

~_~

Maura crouched to tempt Bass, her ill pet tortoise with a small piece of organic spinach. "Please eat Bass," she said as she brushed her fingertips against his shell. She looked at her beloved pet for a moment before picking him up and placing him on the desk. "Well mister if you won't eat, will you help me solve a mystery?" talking to the reptile was therapeutic for her because he couldn't answer back.

Accessing the criminal databases, typing Tommy Rizzoli into the search function to gather the information she needed to help Jane and her family heal their open wounds. While she waited for the searches to finish she tried to tempt Bass with his favourite British strawberries but he didn't nibble like he normally would, putting him on down the floor she said "Oh Bass honey, what is wrong with you?" An IQ of 150 and a phobia of all things living were proving to be a hindrance in helping the animal.

Two of the databases bleeped simultaneously when they had finished running. The pop up said no information. "Huh, that's strange." She modified her search parameters to Thomas, figuring that his rap sheet would be under his given name. The same pop up appeared. Maybe it's his middle name. What else could he be called? Think Maura, think. Grabbing a pen from the pot on her desk she quickly wrote a list of the names that Angela could have given him. After quickly trying the first seven names, she got a hit: Michael Thomas Rizzoli. "That's why I couldn't find you." Clicking the print all button she got all the information her position as the chief medical examiner allowed her, making a note of the Kilmarnock Street address she got a blue case folder from her desk drawer writing M.T.R. EYES ONLY with a sharpie. She swivelled around in her chair grabbing the print outs, placing them in the folder.

*

"Hey can you turn the TV up?" Tommy asked the barman.

The images of the siege and voices of the news anchor blurred into one as Tommy began to feel physically sick at the sight of his big sister shooting herself and an armed man to end the hostage situation at BPD. Recognising the name of the cop Jane shot and killed, he tried to make his way through the crowd to the exit. "Breaking news: Detective Jane Rizzoli has shot herself and a man, believed to also be a detective. Her act of courage and bravery saw the end of a tense standoff between police and drug dealers at the BPD headquarters, here on Albany Street. Back to the studio."

"I hope she dies," a drunken man slurred loudly.

"Hey that's my sister!" Tommy yelled.

"Really? Your sisters a pig!"

A single blow heavy blow landed on his face, pushing his nose out of joint. "I'm gonna pig you, you punk!" Tommy claimed as he threw a relatiating punch to the man's neck. In the ensuing chaos more punches were thrown, bar stools broken; there wood used for weapons, glasses smashed; the sizable pieces been used to slash people.

Tommy felt the cool familiar metal of the handcuffs bind his wrists. "Oh shit" was all he could say before he was read the Miranda warning and lead out to the waiting squad car.

[linaewen]

It is too hot and it is sapping my creativity! Between being too busy and too hot, I'm not getting much done with my writing, but I'm hoping for a break from both in the near future. ;-)