WIP writing meme, yoinked from wednesday42
Finally feeling up to this.
Post a selected sentence (or several) from every WIP you're currently working on, even if it's very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs.
With any luck, you'll get talking about writing, and the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!
1. He had blamed himself often enough for the girl's death, but that shame was nothing like this. It doubled him over and choked the breath out of him. There had been a funeral. There was a gravestone. He hadn't even known. It didn't seem possible. There should've been some sort of sign. The sun should've been eclipsed. The moon should've turned red. But the world had gone as if it didn't notice, that it didn't matter that Dan was gone. So had he. It made him sick.
2. "It's different for birds," he said when the silence got too uncomfortable. It was an awkward subject and he wasn't sure Walter wanted to hear anything about it, but it felt worse to leave the sentence hanging like that. He plowed on just to get it over with. "They don't, y'know, do it that way."
Walter squinted at him. He was either blushing miserably, furious to have to imagine any other indignities, or just really, really sunburned. Dan felt his own color rise and cast around for any other subject to switch too. Walter shifted on his seat, knuckles white on the edge of the chair between his knees. His shoulders hunched a little more and his voice was strained.
"How," he asked, part whisper, part threat. "Do they?"
3. He refused to look her in the eye, but he kept turning to keep his remaining eye on her and his bandaged arm away.
"You've seen him?" he asked finally and it was such an odd question that she stopped.
"No," she said. "I talked to him on the phone." Her eyes narrowed at him. "Why?"
He nodded like it was a relief, but didn't relax.
"I'll admit I underestimated him," he said. "I'd advise you to keep your distance."
"Or what?" she snarled, temper flaring up again. He had the nerve to look fondly at her. "You'll kick your way into my room and shoot me?" His expression went wary again.
"You can't trust any of us," he said. "Not him, not me, not even the Big Blue."
4. The kids were in bed and the weather was bad enough that they were both more grateful to be inside than resentful to not be out. The power went out and there were no squeals, so the kids were all safely asleep. The couch was a good place to watch the lightning flicker over the windows and they ended up making out like movie teenagers before the axe murderer shows up.
5. It had been a special team of six that had gone help get Karnak back in operation. They had been taken out easily, writhing under the sensations of psychic backlash. He wished there was enough left of the poisoned physicists to use their deaths, but they were vaporized, beyond even his reach for the moment.
6. The book wasn't much help. It explained lordosis and shape and function. He knew more about barbs than he had ever wanted to know, but it still didn't tell him what the hell he was supposed to do. Not supposed to do anything, he reminded himself. His mental voice sounded gruffer and more gravelly than usual. Maybe just because he wished he could hear the original voice more than anything, to tell him what it wanted. What it wanted him to do.
7. "How do you think he came from the dead?"
"Why him, you mean?" Dan sounded curt. "Why not Hollis or, or-" His voice trailed off.
"Blair Roche," Rorschach agreed.
"Someone who deserved a second chance," Dan was grumbling now. "Can't be helped, I guess. We don't get to pick. Should be glad we both made it."
"Mmnh," Rorschach said, but he looked thoughtful. "Maybe only those directly involved, still caught in the storm, reborn like this."
8. "Why would he bother with these two? A vet tech and a mechanic?"
"You know what the orders were. If he dies under any suspicious circumstances, everybody on the list gets taken care of. He died. It was weird. These two are the list. Thinking about it will get you nowhere."
"The rich ain't like you and me, man."
"God's truth, son. Now let's go."
9. It was the blue light that cut through her daze. There was relief. Whatever was left of her might be saved. There was also horror. No, no,no, he couldn't come now. That was what they wanted. If dying meant that they wouldn't win, that's what she would have to do. Maybe if she died before Jon got all the way there, he would still be out of their reach, could escape in time. She fumbled for the gun, but couldn't lift it. She tried to bend her head enough to get in front of it. It took all of her strength to pull the trigger, but there was only an empty click. Out of bullets, and now out of hope.
10. She was better at revenge than she thought. So far, everything was going as planned. She was careful, mind-numbingly careful. She had a million excuses and counter-excuses ready in case she got caught. And she had planned for being caught. She didn't imagine for second that she was smarter or wilier than him. She assumed the worst, that he already knew and was just giving her enough rope to tie her own noose. He was a genius. He could have figured it out already. But if he had, he gave nothing away, so neither did she. He might be the smartest man in the world. It didn't mean he would see this coming.
11. Everything about him begged to be killed. The young, handsomely-inbred face with the old, old evil looking out of it was repellant and unnatural in ways that didn't need words to make sense of it. It made fingers seek out weapons, caused jaws to clench. He was an abomination in human form and you didn't need magic to see it, feel it, or believe in it.
12. She had stopped dying. The life wasn't pouring out of her anymore. She was also aware of a new spark of it, not entirely hers, somewhere deep inside. She was still having too much trouble drawing breath to laugh, but she wheezed out a name, and managed a smile. She was picky about which angel of death could come calling and though there was none to choose from at the moment, there would be more time later.
Post a selected sentence (or several) from every WIP you're currently working on, even if it's very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs.
With any luck, you'll get talking about writing, and the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!
1. He had blamed himself often enough for the girl's death, but that shame was nothing like this. It doubled him over and choked the breath out of him. There had been a funeral. There was a gravestone. He hadn't even known. It didn't seem possible. There should've been some sort of sign. The sun should've been eclipsed. The moon should've turned red. But the world had gone as if it didn't notice, that it didn't matter that Dan was gone. So had he. It made him sick.
2. "It's different for birds," he said when the silence got too uncomfortable. It was an awkward subject and he wasn't sure Walter wanted to hear anything about it, but it felt worse to leave the sentence hanging like that. He plowed on just to get it over with. "They don't, y'know, do it that way."
Walter squinted at him. He was either blushing miserably, furious to have to imagine any other indignities, or just really, really sunburned. Dan felt his own color rise and cast around for any other subject to switch too. Walter shifted on his seat, knuckles white on the edge of the chair between his knees. His shoulders hunched a little more and his voice was strained.
"How," he asked, part whisper, part threat. "Do they?"
3. He refused to look her in the eye, but he kept turning to keep his remaining eye on her and his bandaged arm away.
"You've seen him?" he asked finally and it was such an odd question that she stopped.
"No," she said. "I talked to him on the phone." Her eyes narrowed at him. "Why?"
He nodded like it was a relief, but didn't relax.
"I'll admit I underestimated him," he said. "I'd advise you to keep your distance."
"Or what?" she snarled, temper flaring up again. He had the nerve to look fondly at her. "You'll kick your way into my room and shoot me?" His expression went wary again.
"You can't trust any of us," he said. "Not him, not me, not even the Big Blue."
4. The kids were in bed and the weather was bad enough that they were both more grateful to be inside than resentful to not be out. The power went out and there were no squeals, so the kids were all safely asleep. The couch was a good place to watch the lightning flicker over the windows and they ended up making out like movie teenagers before the axe murderer shows up.
5. It had been a special team of six that had gone help get Karnak back in operation. They had been taken out easily, writhing under the sensations of psychic backlash. He wished there was enough left of the poisoned physicists to use their deaths, but they were vaporized, beyond even his reach for the moment.
6. The book wasn't much help. It explained lordosis and shape and function. He knew more about barbs than he had ever wanted to know, but it still didn't tell him what the hell he was supposed to do. Not supposed to do anything, he reminded himself. His mental voice sounded gruffer and more gravelly than usual. Maybe just because he wished he could hear the original voice more than anything, to tell him what it wanted. What it wanted him to do.
7. "How do you think he came from the dead?"
"Why him, you mean?" Dan sounded curt. "Why not Hollis or, or-" His voice trailed off.
"Blair Roche," Rorschach agreed.
"Someone who deserved a second chance," Dan was grumbling now. "Can't be helped, I guess. We don't get to pick. Should be glad we both made it."
"Mmnh," Rorschach said, but he looked thoughtful. "Maybe only those directly involved, still caught in the storm, reborn like this."
8. "Why would he bother with these two? A vet tech and a mechanic?"
"You know what the orders were. If he dies under any suspicious circumstances, everybody on the list gets taken care of. He died. It was weird. These two are the list. Thinking about it will get you nowhere."
"The rich ain't like you and me, man."
"God's truth, son. Now let's go."
9. It was the blue light that cut through her daze. There was relief. Whatever was left of her might be saved. There was also horror. No, no,no, he couldn't come now. That was what they wanted. If dying meant that they wouldn't win, that's what she would have to do. Maybe if she died before Jon got all the way there, he would still be out of their reach, could escape in time. She fumbled for the gun, but couldn't lift it. She tried to bend her head enough to get in front of it. It took all of her strength to pull the trigger, but there was only an empty click. Out of bullets, and now out of hope.
10. She was better at revenge than she thought. So far, everything was going as planned. She was careful, mind-numbingly careful. She had a million excuses and counter-excuses ready in case she got caught. And she had planned for being caught. She didn't imagine for second that she was smarter or wilier than him. She assumed the worst, that he already knew and was just giving her enough rope to tie her own noose. He was a genius. He could have figured it out already. But if he had, he gave nothing away, so neither did she. He might be the smartest man in the world. It didn't mean he would see this coming.
11. Everything about him begged to be killed. The young, handsomely-inbred face with the old, old evil looking out of it was repellant and unnatural in ways that didn't need words to make sense of it. It made fingers seek out weapons, caused jaws to clench. He was an abomination in human form and you didn't need magic to see it, feel it, or believe in it.
12. She had stopped dying. The life wasn't pouring out of her anymore. She was also aware of a new spark of it, not entirely hers, somewhere deep inside. She was still having too much trouble drawing breath to laugh, but she wheezed out a name, and managed a smile. She was picky about which angel of death could come calling and though there was none to choose from at the moment, there would be more time later.