Stolen from thirstyrobot: it's a WIP meme thing!
Post the first sentence (or three) 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, the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!
There's probably more, but these are the ones I'm actually (more or less) actively trying to get done.
1. He remembered all four of his serious relationships, and how they ended. He remembered how Maya always left the lids off the yoghurt pots in the refrigerator and how it bothered him. He remembered Lucy and her betrayal. He remembered things that made no sense but he was sure he had lived through, and things he could not reconcile. He remembered a carpark in Salford and the end of the universe. He remembered the cake his mother made for his thirtieth birthday, dark and studded with cherries and sweet cream, and the time the Doctor held him at swordpoint and stole his sandwich. He had really been looking forward to that sandwich.
2. The Doctor seemed about to reply, but hesitated, and said nothing. Instead he regarded Jamie with what seemed like a kind of heartbreaking wistfulness, as he brought his other hand to cradle Jamie’s blushing cheek.
“Oh, don’t be daft, you lovely wee bampot,” beamed Jamie. “Can I kiss you again?”
3. It seemed to Jamie that the man watched him with the kind of cautious warmth reserved for a friend from many years ago, but that was impossible. Years ago for Jamie was centuries ago for anyone else, after all.
4. He must have been a glutton for punishment, he thought to himself. This would be the most reasonable explanation for the exercise in extreme emotional masochism he was undertaking, as his body wound down, worn thin and ragged at the edges, tired, almost defeated, but defiantly soldiering on until the very last. It seemed to him at that moment more than any before that the trajectory of his life was a movement forward from one heartbreak to another, endless and infinite, and even so, he was not ready for it to draw to a close.
5. “Do you know if Tamsin’s breastfeeding? I don’t think she’s breastfeeding,” asked a woman carrying her sleepy infant in a bright orange sling, gazing askance at one mother as she departed the studio.
“I don’t think she is breastfeeding,” said the other, placing her mildly protesting son in his pram.
“We’re breastfeeding,” chimed in Jones, deadpan.
Felicity blew a raspberry, and giggled.
There's probably more, but these are the ones I'm actually (more or less) actively trying to get done.
1. He remembered all four of his serious relationships, and how they ended. He remembered how Maya always left the lids off the yoghurt pots in the refrigerator and how it bothered him. He remembered Lucy and her betrayal. He remembered things that made no sense but he was sure he had lived through, and things he could not reconcile. He remembered a carpark in Salford and the end of the universe. He remembered the cake his mother made for his thirtieth birthday, dark and studded with cherries and sweet cream, and the time the Doctor held him at swordpoint and stole his sandwich. He had really been looking forward to that sandwich.
2. The Doctor seemed about to reply, but hesitated, and said nothing. Instead he regarded Jamie with what seemed like a kind of heartbreaking wistfulness, as he brought his other hand to cradle Jamie’s blushing cheek.
“Oh, don’t be daft, you lovely wee bampot,” beamed Jamie. “Can I kiss you again?”
3. It seemed to Jamie that the man watched him with the kind of cautious warmth reserved for a friend from many years ago, but that was impossible. Years ago for Jamie was centuries ago for anyone else, after all.
4. He must have been a glutton for punishment, he thought to himself. This would be the most reasonable explanation for the exercise in extreme emotional masochism he was undertaking, as his body wound down, worn thin and ragged at the edges, tired, almost defeated, but defiantly soldiering on until the very last. It seemed to him at that moment more than any before that the trajectory of his life was a movement forward from one heartbreak to another, endless and infinite, and even so, he was not ready for it to draw to a close.
5. “Do you know if Tamsin’s breastfeeding? I don’t think she’s breastfeeding,” asked a woman carrying her sleepy infant in a bright orange sling, gazing askance at one mother as she departed the studio.
“I don’t think she is breastfeeding,” said the other, placing her mildly protesting son in his pram.
“We’re breastfeeding,” chimed in Jones, deadpan.
Felicity blew a raspberry, and giggled.