WIP Wednesday: Filling the Well or Full of Shit?
When does 'filling the well' i.e. looking for those bits of muse to feed your WIP, stop being useful and just becomes an excuse to procrastinate? Good one huh. Hit something haven’t I? Maybe I am just talking to my self--maybe? But I swear I can feel other pulse points quickening through my screen en masse, hear them thinking "My god, she has read my mind--maybe not my blog this week--but my mind. I have been procrastinating under false pretence." Gottcha! *Sits Under Steps with tea and smug grin*
I have been bordering-on occasion dipping my toes into full of shitville this week. I could blame personal on-goings stressing out my brain and directing said brain and its close companion creativity, towards easier writing activities like increased reading of and writing of Fan Fiction (The Mentalist mostly. Can ya tell from the first paragraph?) Fan Fiction holds no stress for me, I've always been well received by others in that realm and I'm writing with other folks characters and it's mostly to please my curiosity of 'what if'. (What if this character does this to another character in a plot of my design, etc...)
However, what can cause stress and a set of cold feet (happens after dipping feet in cooled shit in Shitville) is taking responsibility for your own original characters, going out on a limb for them and giving them a story. Today, I realize that not only am I a Fan Fiction whore/addict, I am also a WIP cheat. Taking up valuable time and giving other folks characters a story, is the equivalent of cheating on my own characters and would be story. It's not fare to them. *Hanging head low. The house lights dim Under the Steps*
I feel a little better for admitting that, you know. I'M SORRY WIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That felt good too. Hmmmm.
So how about you?
Oh, and one of the bits of tail I have been cheating with...
DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I do not own The Mentalist or any of its characters.
AUTHORS NOTE: This little one shot came to me after watching the pilot in repeat. The end where Jane plays make-up with Lisbon using an origami jumping frog. It was her startled little gasp and his smile (possibly the first real one) he gave and then let fade before he turned away. I think making her smile brings him a little ray of light. A moment of normal maybe?
I have only seen a handful of the episodes, a late comer to this show. But I think the subject of smiles on the show bounces back between Jane’s mega watt smile, the ones he coaxes out of Lisbon and Red Johns calling card crimson smiley.
WARNING: Curse words and some Jane angst. Last minute and un-beta’d, so we got some mistakes kids.
A Smile
by Anne Pendragon
He’d searched it out again, tricked it from her. Once more, Teresa Lisbon gave Patrick Jane her smile. It was never an entirely unselfish act on his part, but it was the least selfish thing he found himself doing on any regular basis.
The tough and forthright agent deserved to smile a hell of a lot more than life had allowed in her 32 years. It didn’t take a Mentalist of Jane’s ilk to see.
Unlike Jane’s own dark past, Lisbon’s tragedies had been through no fault of her own. A car accident had taken her mothers life too young, along with Lisbon’s childhood, leaving her to care for a broken family and alcoholic father who emotionally abused her. She was the victim of life’s cruel turn of events. But Jane-Jane was the fool, punished for his ego’s self-indulgent need for notoriety. He’d taunted a serial killer on national television and lost his family for his arrogance.
Lisbon deserved happiness. She deserved to smile… ‘She deserves to give them to someone better.’
And Jane deserved his vengeance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Jane, you can not keep mocking Sergeant Stevens grooming habits every time we pass the front desk. He’s just doing his job and besides, on a bad day he could snap you in half.”
A small smirk played out across the Mentalists face, watching Lisbon try to fend him off while juggling an arm load of files and Chinese take-out unsuccessfully through the squad room. Jane quickly reached out and caught her Kung Pao Chicken before the bag hit the floor then propped open her office door so she could toss her files onto the closest open space. His cheshire grin only grew.
“I simply stated that the Sergeant might reconsider his choice in aftershave.” Jane’s brows shot up matter of fact when Lisbon turned around to glare. “He is the first line of defense CBI has to the distressed minions and we wouldn’t want Joe Public to have any reason to turn their nose up or away from our hallowed halls.”
“He was just being helpful…” Lisbon began.
“But only to you, my dear Lisbon. Only to you. Not even our lovely Grace merits his holding the records office door every time she comes through…”
“Come on.” Lisbon scoffed. “He’s just showing respect. I am in charge of the lead unit…”
“And you are a beautiful woman.” It came out before Jane could put a flirty spin on his truthful words. He cursed the mistake. The way Lisbon had stopped mid action-mid breath and now staring at him, unsettled him far more than he cared to admit. His discomfort was not apart of this exercise. Not by a long shot.
Jane quickly regrouped.
“Bothered by the attentions of a male co-worker, Agent Lisbon or just trying to cover up your feelings for…?” his voice smooth and suggestive with double entendre, aiming for a desired response. He didn’t have to wait long…
“I don’t give a rat’s ass and you know that.” Lisbon spat out and then growled for good measure.
Jane smiled brightly. He’d always appreciated Lisbon’s resilience, and her willingness to let a moment pass between them. ‘And she’s positively beautiful when she’s angry…’
“And Stevens is double my age, AND married.” Lisbon continued. “It’s just opening a door.” She nodded to her own door indicating what Jane had just done for her moments earlier.
“It’s his tell.” Jane casually replied.
“Tell for what?” Lisbon tried to snatch her late lunch back from the mercurial blond but was denied due to his height and the distance he kept at the other side of her desk.
“His ‘I-want-her-horizontal-and-naked-with-me’ tell.” Jane’s voice dropped a devilish octave and then wagged his brow suggestively.
Lisbon crossed her arms over her chest and glared, trying to fight off her own tell. The blush Jane once again elicited from her with such skill and unsettling ease. “You really are a sick sick man, Jane. Certifiable.”
“As documented, my dear Lisbon. As documented.” his voice cocksure and too cheery.
Jane gently placed Lisbon’s lunch bag upon the files on her desk and stepped away. Another smile now replacing his last. It was the ‘Jane smile’, the one that glowed a million watts bright, but never reached his eyes. Not for the first time, Lisbon felt her heart hurt a little while he used it. She knew she had hit a sore spot-his time in the mental health asylum following his families murder at the hands of Red John. She was the only one he had trusted with that information, actually any information he allowed to be known of himself. But before she could say anything to retract or clarify what she had meant by the joke, Jane was already out the door and gone. However, she knew never far…
Jane had stayed just outside Lisbon’s line of sight while she settled into her desk and began to start her lunch, once again a voyeur of his colleague actions. She’d affected him with her words although she had truly meant them in jest. A ploy to hide her own discomfort in the situation he had placed her. He understood, but his own reactions to her still unsettled him.
His attention now turned back to the task at hand, Jane aloud a satisfied grin when Lisbon’s hands cautiously stilled over her lunch and gave it a wary brow. The register slip was still stapled tight over the folded take-out bag. Not one tear or signs of tampering or booby trap. She seemed to have deemed her meal safe after escaping the trickster mentalist’s skilled hands and decided to dig in.
“What the…?” Instead of the fortune cookie that now took up a corner in Jane’s coat pocket, Lisbon found a perfect orchid bloom placed upon her meal. And Jane had found his needed smile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He thought of that smile now, it had been warm and wistful and to his surprise open. She hadn’t peered suspiciously around her surroundings looking for him or shown any concern she’d been seen enjoying his gesture by the others of their team. He believed now, she had wanted him to see. That sharing these small moments, instead of stealing them from one another was what it had grown to be, between them. And it was that reason alone, that now clenched his chest with concern.
‘You have to stop.’ Jane told himself, while settling into his couch at the center of the squad room. ‘Nothing good can come of this.’ He closed his eyes to the late day sun and began to push away the image of her smile. ‘It changes nothing. Someday she’ll either have to arrest me or bury me.’ he breathed in deep and let it out slow. ‘Either way, Red John will be dead and I will have my revenge.’
He allowed his body to rest and his mind attempt some semblance of sleep. He wasn’t alone for long. Within the darkness of his closed lids another smile appeared, etched in blood.
I have been bordering-on occasion dipping my toes into full of shitville this week. I could blame personal on-goings stressing out my brain and directing said brain and its close companion creativity, towards easier writing activities like increased reading of and writing of Fan Fiction (The Mentalist mostly. Can ya tell from the first paragraph?) Fan Fiction holds no stress for me, I've always been well received by others in that realm and I'm writing with other folks characters and it's mostly to please my curiosity of 'what if'. (What if this character does this to another character in a plot of my design, etc...)
However, what can cause stress and a set of cold feet (happens after dipping feet in cooled shit in Shitville) is taking responsibility for your own original characters, going out on a limb for them and giving them a story. Today, I realize that not only am I a Fan Fiction whore/addict, I am also a WIP cheat. Taking up valuable time and giving other folks characters a story, is the equivalent of cheating on my own characters and would be story. It's not fare to them. *Hanging head low. The house lights dim Under the Steps*
I feel a little better for admitting that, you know. I'M SORRY WIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That felt good too. Hmmmm.
So how about you?
Oh, and one of the bits of tail I have been cheating with...
DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I do not own The Mentalist or any of its characters.
AUTHORS NOTE: This little one shot came to me after watching the pilot in repeat. The end where Jane plays make-up with Lisbon using an origami jumping frog. It was her startled little gasp and his smile (possibly the first real one) he gave and then let fade before he turned away. I think making her smile brings him a little ray of light. A moment of normal maybe?
I have only seen a handful of the episodes, a late comer to this show. But I think the subject of smiles on the show bounces back between Jane’s mega watt smile, the ones he coaxes out of Lisbon and Red Johns calling card crimson smiley.
WARNING: Curse words and some Jane angst. Last minute and un-beta’d, so we got some mistakes kids.
A Smile
by Anne Pendragon
He’d searched it out again, tricked it from her. Once more, Teresa Lisbon gave Patrick Jane her smile. It was never an entirely unselfish act on his part, but it was the least selfish thing he found himself doing on any regular basis.
The tough and forthright agent deserved to smile a hell of a lot more than life had allowed in her 32 years. It didn’t take a Mentalist of Jane’s ilk to see.
Unlike Jane’s own dark past, Lisbon’s tragedies had been through no fault of her own. A car accident had taken her mothers life too young, along with Lisbon’s childhood, leaving her to care for a broken family and alcoholic father who emotionally abused her. She was the victim of life’s cruel turn of events. But Jane-Jane was the fool, punished for his ego’s self-indulgent need for notoriety. He’d taunted a serial killer on national television and lost his family for his arrogance.
Lisbon deserved happiness. She deserved to smile… ‘She deserves to give them to someone better.’
And Jane deserved his vengeance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Jane, you can not keep mocking Sergeant Stevens grooming habits every time we pass the front desk. He’s just doing his job and besides, on a bad day he could snap you in half.”
A small smirk played out across the Mentalists face, watching Lisbon try to fend him off while juggling an arm load of files and Chinese take-out unsuccessfully through the squad room. Jane quickly reached out and caught her Kung Pao Chicken before the bag hit the floor then propped open her office door so she could toss her files onto the closest open space. His cheshire grin only grew.
“I simply stated that the Sergeant might reconsider his choice in aftershave.” Jane’s brows shot up matter of fact when Lisbon turned around to glare. “He is the first line of defense CBI has to the distressed minions and we wouldn’t want Joe Public to have any reason to turn their nose up or away from our hallowed halls.”
“He was just being helpful…” Lisbon began.
“But only to you, my dear Lisbon. Only to you. Not even our lovely Grace merits his holding the records office door every time she comes through…”
“Come on.” Lisbon scoffed. “He’s just showing respect. I am in charge of the lead unit…”
“And you are a beautiful woman.” It came out before Jane could put a flirty spin on his truthful words. He cursed the mistake. The way Lisbon had stopped mid action-mid breath and now staring at him, unsettled him far more than he cared to admit. His discomfort was not apart of this exercise. Not by a long shot.
Jane quickly regrouped.
“Bothered by the attentions of a male co-worker, Agent Lisbon or just trying to cover up your feelings for…?” his voice smooth and suggestive with double entendre, aiming for a desired response. He didn’t have to wait long…
“I don’t give a rat’s ass and you know that.” Lisbon spat out and then growled for good measure.
Jane smiled brightly. He’d always appreciated Lisbon’s resilience, and her willingness to let a moment pass between them. ‘And she’s positively beautiful when she’s angry…’
“And Stevens is double my age, AND married.” Lisbon continued. “It’s just opening a door.” She nodded to her own door indicating what Jane had just done for her moments earlier.
“It’s his tell.” Jane casually replied.
“Tell for what?” Lisbon tried to snatch her late lunch back from the mercurial blond but was denied due to his height and the distance he kept at the other side of her desk.
“His ‘I-want-her-horizontal-and-naked-with-me’ tell.” Jane’s voice dropped a devilish octave and then wagged his brow suggestively.
Lisbon crossed her arms over her chest and glared, trying to fight off her own tell. The blush Jane once again elicited from her with such skill and unsettling ease. “You really are a sick sick man, Jane. Certifiable.”
“As documented, my dear Lisbon. As documented.” his voice cocksure and too cheery.
Jane gently placed Lisbon’s lunch bag upon the files on her desk and stepped away. Another smile now replacing his last. It was the ‘Jane smile’, the one that glowed a million watts bright, but never reached his eyes. Not for the first time, Lisbon felt her heart hurt a little while he used it. She knew she had hit a sore spot-his time in the mental health asylum following his families murder at the hands of Red John. She was the only one he had trusted with that information, actually any information he allowed to be known of himself. But before she could say anything to retract or clarify what she had meant by the joke, Jane was already out the door and gone. However, she knew never far…
Jane had stayed just outside Lisbon’s line of sight while she settled into her desk and began to start her lunch, once again a voyeur of his colleague actions. She’d affected him with her words although she had truly meant them in jest. A ploy to hide her own discomfort in the situation he had placed her. He understood, but his own reactions to her still unsettled him.
His attention now turned back to the task at hand, Jane aloud a satisfied grin when Lisbon’s hands cautiously stilled over her lunch and gave it a wary brow. The register slip was still stapled tight over the folded take-out bag. Not one tear or signs of tampering or booby trap. She seemed to have deemed her meal safe after escaping the trickster mentalist’s skilled hands and decided to dig in.
“What the…?” Instead of the fortune cookie that now took up a corner in Jane’s coat pocket, Lisbon found a perfect orchid bloom placed upon her meal. And Jane had found his needed smile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He thought of that smile now, it had been warm and wistful and to his surprise open. She hadn’t peered suspiciously around her surroundings looking for him or shown any concern she’d been seen enjoying his gesture by the others of their team. He believed now, she had wanted him to see. That sharing these small moments, instead of stealing them from one another was what it had grown to be, between them. And it was that reason alone, that now clenched his chest with concern.
‘You have to stop.’ Jane told himself, while settling into his couch at the center of the squad room. ‘Nothing good can come of this.’ He closed his eyes to the late day sun and began to push away the image of her smile. ‘It changes nothing. Someday she’ll either have to arrest me or bury me.’ he breathed in deep and let it out slow. ‘Either way, Red John will be dead and I will have my revenge.’
He allowed his body to rest and his mind attempt some semblance of sleep. He wasn’t alone for long. Within the darkness of his closed lids another smile appeared, etched in blood.