Yay, my computer's back! And a meme to celebrate.
So, I finally got the comp back on Tuesday and got it all wired and fired up yesterday. *wipes brow* Anyway, the problem was basically that Windows had disappeared a long long way up its own arse, and the only way back was a complete format and re-install. Of course, being of the Jen and Mikey school of backups - "Yes, of course I know I should have a complete backup; do I look stupid?", and being as Son's laptop had developed severe (unrelated) collywobbles at the same bloody time, I had to pay someone to spend an hour copying things off for me before we could get to the install. (Because my entire financial world is here as well as my fic, to say nothing of all the dealings with schools, and the family photos).
Anyways, here I am, and the odd thing is that it doesn't feel like the release from purgatory I thought it would be. Quite the opposite, in fact, which I need to think pretty hard about.
The good thing is I've now got an old phone hooked up wirelessly to the router so I can check the email while waiting for the kettle to boil or whatever, and should I feel so inclined I can now secretly read smut in the bath, which definitely has a future. And I've written a couple of short fics, but I don't do editing on paper, it just doesn't work. So more typing lies ahead when I get time.
The bad bit was the sense of isolation in the first few days before we got the phone connected, and the fact that it is so painful and so slow to peck away at a phone keyboard, even with so-called "predictive" text. (Turns out the reason I couldn't work it out was that I kept expecting it to, you know, predict - maybe from the first few letters or something - and I didn't know you had to press each key only once. That's not predicting, that's guessing after the fact.) Still, it knows some interesting new words now, including of course "Gene", and I suppose I really shouldn't have been surprised when I typed in the three-letter code for my local station and it came up with "sex" as the first option.
Anyway, a meme. Gakked from hambelandjemima - one sentence from each fic in the WIP folder.They're all LOM, and this isn't actually every one of them, just the ones that suited the mood I was in last night. After I'd fairly randomly selected the sentences, I thought I'd amuse myself by trying to arrange them in some kind of halfway sensible order. So here goes:
WIP sentence meme
“You do the talking, Gladys, and I’ll get things done” was the mantra Gene lived by.
A DCI in 1973 was expected to rule the city by force of personality, by strength of will and by eccentricity of character.
Sam stared up at the man whose extraordinary magnetism was inexorably lighting a fire in his lonely soul.
He certainly didn’t look like a man who planned to be dead any time soon.
“Let’s just say that someone made a big mistake about the restaurant, Carling.”
“Well, you’ve always been a screw or two loose, Gladys, what’s one more between friends.”
“I don’t know about you, but I didn’t really plan on spending my twilight years as a nightwatchman.”
“We distract Rathbone by explaining your new idea to him.”
“How exactly does me not addressing my cock to your lovely arse help me give you the fucking you deserve?”
Sam smiled and reached up to place a finger in Gene’s mouth.
“You leave him alone, you deviant little tart.”
“Just took you a while to remember that Hyde’s not home any more.”
The rain washed away the blood as the uniformed men took away the wrecked vehicles, and Gene wished there was someone he could talk to as the rhythm of the day slowed towards evening.
“Would you start by telling the court where you were on the date in question and how you came to be the first person to examine DI Tyler.”
The man he’d last seen being helped into an ambulance hadn’t looked fit to act any role more demanding than fifth shepherd in the Infants’ Nativity.
“In the meantime you can usefully address yourself to why you would want to run away from being a handsome, intelligent, useful young man and choose to become a vegetable sitting in an asylum for the rest of your life.”
Anyways, here I am, and the odd thing is that it doesn't feel like the release from purgatory I thought it would be. Quite the opposite, in fact, which I need to think pretty hard about.
The good thing is I've now got an old phone hooked up wirelessly to the router so I can check the email while waiting for the kettle to boil or whatever, and should I feel so inclined I can now secretly read smut in the bath, which definitely has a future. And I've written a couple of short fics, but I don't do editing on paper, it just doesn't work. So more typing lies ahead when I get time.
The bad bit was the sense of isolation in the first few days before we got the phone connected, and the fact that it is so painful and so slow to peck away at a phone keyboard, even with so-called "predictive" text. (Turns out the reason I couldn't work it out was that I kept expecting it to, you know, predict - maybe from the first few letters or something - and I didn't know you had to press each key only once. That's not predicting, that's guessing after the fact.) Still, it knows some interesting new words now, including of course "Gene", and I suppose I really shouldn't have been surprised when I typed in the three-letter code for my local station and it came up with "sex" as the first option.
Anyway, a meme. Gakked from hambelandjemima - one sentence from each fic in the WIP folder.They're all LOM, and this isn't actually every one of them, just the ones that suited the mood I was in last night. After I'd fairly randomly selected the sentences, I thought I'd amuse myself by trying to arrange them in some kind of halfway sensible order. So here goes:
WIP sentence meme
“You do the talking, Gladys, and I’ll get things done” was the mantra Gene lived by.
A DCI in 1973 was expected to rule the city by force of personality, by strength of will and by eccentricity of character.
Sam stared up at the man whose extraordinary magnetism was inexorably lighting a fire in his lonely soul.
He certainly didn’t look like a man who planned to be dead any time soon.
“Let’s just say that someone made a big mistake about the restaurant, Carling.”
“Well, you’ve always been a screw or two loose, Gladys, what’s one more between friends.”
“I don’t know about you, but I didn’t really plan on spending my twilight years as a nightwatchman.”
“We distract Rathbone by explaining your new idea to him.”
“How exactly does me not addressing my cock to your lovely arse help me give you the fucking you deserve?”
Sam smiled and reached up to place a finger in Gene’s mouth.
“You leave him alone, you deviant little tart.”
“Just took you a while to remember that Hyde’s not home any more.”
The rain washed away the blood as the uniformed men took away the wrecked vehicles, and Gene wished there was someone he could talk to as the rhythm of the day slowed towards evening.
“Would you start by telling the court where you were on the date in question and how you came to be the first person to examine DI Tyler.”
The man he’d last seen being helped into an ambulance hadn’t looked fit to act any role more demanding than fifth shepherd in the Infants’ Nativity.
“In the meantime you can usefully address yourself to why you would want to run away from being a handsome, intelligent, useful young man and choose to become a vegetable sitting in an asylum for the rest of your life.”