I'm going to change the name of my journal to 'Spamtastic'. Or maybe 'Spam Pong'.
So I appear to have lost the ability to structure a story. I used to be really good at that. It was one of my strengths as a writer, building a solid story arc without too much filler and a satisfying, if somewhat predictable ending. But lately I just can't seem to structure to save my life. That's the problem with my current novel; I have written 15,000 words of disjointed scenes, but there's no structure to be found.
I started a Criminal Minds AU (not the college one), the idea of which I'm crazy about, but the structure isn't really working. I have a second novel that has a structure in theory, but the execution just isn't happening. I still have some request ficlets from before the holidays that haven't been written, not because I don't have ideas for them, but because I can't even seem to structure a 500-word ficlet. True story!
Well. I did write one request ficlet, but it's terrible. I am going to post it anyway just so I can wash my hands of it, since it's Christmas-themed and that's just lame. Plus, I wrote 95% of it weeks ago, and I have given up on coming up with a decent ending. So here's a little Ghost Ship ficlet, requested by minotaurs. I'm sorry that it sucks. I'm not even fishing for compliments; it really does.
There's a Christmas tree in the middle of the table. At least Dodge is pretty sure it's supposed to be a Christmas tree; it's made out of metal, so the color's wrong, and what he's assuming are branches could just as easily be hooks for drying coffee mugs or something. But he can't think of a reason for a mug rack in the middle of the table on Christmas Eve, so he's going with tree.
It's weird, but it's...well, it's sort of festive, and Dodge crosses the room to take a closer look.
"He's a hell of a welder," someone says behind him, and Dodge glances over his shoulder to grin at Epps.
"He's something, all right."
"Not much of an artist, though," she says, and Dodge frowns and tilts his head to take in their Christmas tree from a different angle.
"I don't know, I think it's kind of cool. Abstract."
Epps smirks at him and shakes her head, heading into the kitchen to set her coffee mug in the sink. "Yeah, well, my watch is about to start. Better go relieve the artist so he can get his beauty sleep."
She leaves him standing in the middle of the room, studying the tree as though it really is a work of art. And up close it kind of is; Dodge isn't sure where Munder found paint, but he's welded little ball bearings to the branches and painted them red and green. They're too small to see from the doorway, but from here they really sell it.
He hears footsteps behind him and looks up, watching Munder walk into the room. He looks pretty impressed with himself, which is no surprise, but it makes Dodge grin anyway.
"Pretty nice, huh?"
"Better than nothing, anyway," Dodge answers, reaching out to touch one of the ball bearings.
"Hey, hands off," Munder says, catching his wrist and pulling him away from the tree.
"What, you're worried I'm going to break it? I thought you were the best welder in the business."
"I am," Munder answers, his chest puffing out a little and Dodge would never admit it, but it's kind of cute. "But this is art, man. You can't go putting your grubby hands all over it."
"That's not what you said this morning," Dodge says, and they both smile at the memory. It was too short and not exactly comfortable, but that's pretty much standard when they're at sea. And yeah, it would have been nice if they'd gotten back to port for their first Christmas together, but they're headed that way, so at least there's something to look forward to.
"Yeah, well, putting your grubby hands all over me is a different story."
"I don't know about that," Dodge answers as he lets Munder pull him close. It's dangerous, because there are four other people on the boat and any one of them could walk through the door at any moment. But it's worth the risk when Munder kisses him, and Dodge lets himself linger for a few seconds before he pulls away. "You look pretty good from where I'm standing."
~
I still have four hours of work left, so I guess I will be spending my evening staring at Word and wishing for a miracle. I promise not to post about it anymore, at least.
I started a Criminal Minds AU (not the college one), the idea of which I'm crazy about, but the structure isn't really working. I have a second novel that has a structure in theory, but the execution just isn't happening. I still have some request ficlets from before the holidays that haven't been written, not because I don't have ideas for them, but because I can't even seem to structure a 500-word ficlet. True story!
Well. I did write one request ficlet, but it's terrible. I am going to post it anyway just so I can wash my hands of it, since it's Christmas-themed and that's just lame. Plus, I wrote 95% of it weeks ago, and I have given up on coming up with a decent ending. So here's a little Ghost Ship ficlet, requested by minotaurs. I'm sorry that it sucks. I'm not even fishing for compliments; it really does.
There's a Christmas tree in the middle of the table. At least Dodge is pretty sure it's supposed to be a Christmas tree; it's made out of metal, so the color's wrong, and what he's assuming are branches could just as easily be hooks for drying coffee mugs or something. But he can't think of a reason for a mug rack in the middle of the table on Christmas Eve, so he's going with tree.
It's weird, but it's...well, it's sort of festive, and Dodge crosses the room to take a closer look.
"He's a hell of a welder," someone says behind him, and Dodge glances over his shoulder to grin at Epps.
"He's something, all right."
"Not much of an artist, though," she says, and Dodge frowns and tilts his head to take in their Christmas tree from a different angle.
"I don't know, I think it's kind of cool. Abstract."
Epps smirks at him and shakes her head, heading into the kitchen to set her coffee mug in the sink. "Yeah, well, my watch is about to start. Better go relieve the artist so he can get his beauty sleep."
She leaves him standing in the middle of the room, studying the tree as though it really is a work of art. And up close it kind of is; Dodge isn't sure where Munder found paint, but he's welded little ball bearings to the branches and painted them red and green. They're too small to see from the doorway, but from here they really sell it.
He hears footsteps behind him and looks up, watching Munder walk into the room. He looks pretty impressed with himself, which is no surprise, but it makes Dodge grin anyway.
"Pretty nice, huh?"
"Better than nothing, anyway," Dodge answers, reaching out to touch one of the ball bearings.
"Hey, hands off," Munder says, catching his wrist and pulling him away from the tree.
"What, you're worried I'm going to break it? I thought you were the best welder in the business."
"I am," Munder answers, his chest puffing out a little and Dodge would never admit it, but it's kind of cute. "But this is art, man. You can't go putting your grubby hands all over it."
"That's not what you said this morning," Dodge says, and they both smile at the memory. It was too short and not exactly comfortable, but that's pretty much standard when they're at sea. And yeah, it would have been nice if they'd gotten back to port for their first Christmas together, but they're headed that way, so at least there's something to look forward to.
"Yeah, well, putting your grubby hands all over me is a different story."
"I don't know about that," Dodge answers as he lets Munder pull him close. It's dangerous, because there are four other people on the boat and any one of them could walk through the door at any moment. But it's worth the risk when Munder kisses him, and Dodge lets himself linger for a few seconds before he pulls away. "You look pretty good from where I'm standing."
~
I still have four hours of work left, so I guess I will be spending my evening staring at Word and wishing for a miracle. I promise not to post about it anymore, at least.