WIPs
synecdochic posted her WIPs here. I found it interesting to see how she writes and thinks, but I tend to live by the Just. Finish. It. dictum. Except, maybe not quite. Right now, my WIPs are all novels.
Everything I have on deck now is original. None have titles. I just use the names of one of the main characters as the folder titles.
1. Gordon Jacques (pronounced "jakes")
The One Where... The former member of the Legion of Doom hacker tribe gets called in to a virology lab to do data compression using DNA as the substrate (I stole this from myself for Do No Harm). Nefarious dealings are afoot. A Ti/99a features heavily.
Currently at: about 33,000
Started/Last Updated: Created early 03, last updated 7/30/03.
I dunwannawrite: It's a McGuffin book in need of a McGuffin. Everything I come up with has been Done Before, including by a published friend of mine.
Here, Have A Bit: (also, this unwritten scene) Thoughts along these lines put me in a distracted state of mind, oblivious to the world around me. That’s why I literally had to run into Chick to notice her. Knowing me well enough to realize my head was anywhere but here, she’d parked herself in my flightpath.
She wasn’t unpleasant to run into. Chick was built like an Amazon - tall, curvy, substantial. She wasn’t my type, but I could appreciate her both for form and function. Her dreadlocks were still bouncing from the impact as she looked down at my apology.
“Gordon, honey, I swear you are the original absent-minded professor.” Her smile took the spook out of her dark eye makeup, and something in the fluorescent lights was causing her hair to shine.
Her hair shifted my train of thought. “What color is your hair?”
She looked confused. “Purple like always, honey.”
“And that’s not a typical color for hair, right?”
“Um, no. Didn’t you know that?”
I ignored her question. “What color are my shoes?”
She glanced down, then answered, “They’re bright green with yellow laces."
"And that's weird, right?"
Chick raised an eyebrow. “Did my Gordon get replaced by a pod person?”
I caught myself. I am such a dork. When I try, I get along with people smooth and easy. Let me get into my own head, though, and I forget the simple things, like saying hello. I took a breath and said, “Chick, thank you for arranging bail. Remind me to thank Michael Vrbin for covering it.”
“I will, and you’re welcome. But what’s all this about my hair and your shoes?”
“Did you know I was color blind?”
“Oh. That explains the shirts, doesn’t it?”
2. Ofthot
The One Where... Ginger Ofthot becomes the only person in the world to remember the books, or the author, of what had been a best-selling series of fantasy novels. Shortly before the last was to be released, all trace of them is gone, no one remembers them, and only the fact that she has the hardcover books convinces her that she's not crazy. She meets the books' supposed author, and he tells her that, in the end, the quest failed, and the bad guy (in this case, bad woman) won.
Currently at: about 32,400
Started/Last Updated: Created early 2005, last updated March 2006.
I dunwannawrite: I do wannawrite, and I know the basic plot. I want to learn the story as the characters write it under my fingers. This got derailed by work, and then by fanfic, including the Methos/Krycek novel Wotan's Day (60K+ words). This is next on deck in my "year of no fanfic writing," after #3, below, gets finished.
Here, Have A Bit:Heads turned as she entered the elevator. Ginger's visible skin was an azure blue, with contouring accents of lighter and darker shades to bring out her cheekbones and make her hands look real. Her armor was perfectly molded to her lanky frame, making soft chinging noises as the chain mail moved. She carried a sword in a scabbard across her back, and a mace hung from her belt where she had also tucked her gauntlets. It was all made out of vinyl and aluminum and high-grade plastics, but it looked almost real under fluorescent lighting, and very convincing in the softer lights usually found at a convention masque. Hanging on her chest was a very real copy of Vyeve's amulet, complete with the empty setting for the crystal, which Renee had made of silver and copper during one of her jewelry classes.
For the first time at a convention, though, Ginger felt self-conscious in her costume. Before today, everyone would have known who she meant to be. Now the looks were more questioning and the elevator silent until they reached the mezzanine floor. Ginger wanted to get out of the bright lights, and turned quickly toward the ballroom. One of the people from the elevator kept pace with her. He was dressed in full alien regalia from some show she didn't watch. His face was painted with spots around the hairline, and he had reasonably good, but visible, latex pieces to enhance his brow line.
Ginger got in line at the portable bar set up by the hotel to keep the masque goers out of the regular lounge, and he stood behind her.
"So, who are you supposed to be? Xena the Warrior Smurf?"
Ginger turned and put on her best polite smile. "Not intentionally."
He seemed to realize how rude he had been. "Just didn't recognize you as being anything else. If you'd had antennae, you'd be one of those Star Trek aliens, the Andoreans, except you're the wrong shade of blue. Too dark. They're more of a sky blue."
"Yes, and they'd have ray guns instead of swords" Ginger began, but came to a stop with no desire to engage in a discussion of the Andorians, but a loss as to what to tell him. "It's from an obscure series of books." She shrugged and turned away, and in a few moments she had secured a manhattan, and she took a sip with a silent toast to her mother. Through the doors she could hear the band, and she wandered in to listen. They were a three piece, with a woman playing violin and singing lead. Ginger's fingers twitched in sympathy, and she regretted leaving her violin in the lab.
3. Lars
The One Where... Lars Dahl (tall, pretty goth who runs a performance space) pulls Brian Hoechst (buff undercover cop) into a D/s sexual relationship. Brian is there to investigate a drug ring that uses touring bands to move pills and money. Plot driven, and the sex is ether plot-driving or character-revealing.
Currently at: about 20,553. Will probably finish at least 100K
Started/Last Updated: Created Jan1 2007 (or sometime in 1997-8, depending on how you count), last updated today. I created the characters for two stories for a stroke site. The plot has been cooking in the back of my mind for about five years.
I dunwannawrite: There's a character that's necessary, and Lars having sex with him is necessary, but he's not going to like it, and I don't want to write it. Lucky for me, that's at least five chapters away.
Here, Have A Bit:"So what's going on? Who is that guy out there, and where have you been? With him?"
I expected to be told to shut up or something, but he just said, "Yeah."
"So what's the deal?" I was more pissed off than I probably had a right to be. I felt a little better when he seemed to have a hard time saying what he wanted to say.
"I was trying to find out how to give you more of what you like. He's been training me."
I picked up the thread, "So what's this, your graduation?"
"Sort of. Hands on demo, I guess." He looked a little nervous, like he was afraid I'd bolt.
Not a chance. Two hot cops at once was not an opportunity to miss, but there were still all those questions in my mind. "What's my safe word?"
"You never had one with me, and I'm supposed to be your safety." He put his hands on my hips and I shivered. "Lars, you'll have to trust me." His gaze caught mine, held it for a long minute while his thumbs rubbed the skin just inside my hip bones. "Trust me completely or tell us to leave now."
No way in hell was I letting them leave. Then it hit me-it was the first time he'd ever said my name. I suddenly felt like I might be more than the freak he liked to fuck. I didn't say anything for a few minutes, and I felt his hands tighten. Then I leaned down and kissed him, sucked his tongue into my mouth and rubbed with the barbell. I gave him everything I had while my cock rubbed lightly on his gun belt, poking into his abs.
He pushed me back, his face serious. "Do you trust me?"
Everything I have on deck now is original. None have titles. I just use the names of one of the main characters as the folder titles.
1. Gordon Jacques (pronounced "jakes")
The One Where... The former member of the Legion of Doom hacker tribe gets called in to a virology lab to do data compression using DNA as the substrate (I stole this from myself for Do No Harm). Nefarious dealings are afoot. A Ti/99a features heavily.
Currently at: about 33,000
Started/Last Updated: Created early 03, last updated 7/30/03.
I dunwannawrite: It's a McGuffin book in need of a McGuffin. Everything I come up with has been Done Before, including by a published friend of mine.
Here, Have A Bit: (also, this unwritten scene) Thoughts along these lines put me in a distracted state of mind, oblivious to the world around me. That’s why I literally had to run into Chick to notice her. Knowing me well enough to realize my head was anywhere but here, she’d parked herself in my flightpath.
She wasn’t unpleasant to run into. Chick was built like an Amazon - tall, curvy, substantial. She wasn’t my type, but I could appreciate her both for form and function. Her dreadlocks were still bouncing from the impact as she looked down at my apology.
“Gordon, honey, I swear you are the original absent-minded professor.” Her smile took the spook out of her dark eye makeup, and something in the fluorescent lights was causing her hair to shine.
Her hair shifted my train of thought. “What color is your hair?”
She looked confused. “Purple like always, honey.”
“And that’s not a typical color for hair, right?”
“Um, no. Didn’t you know that?”
I ignored her question. “What color are my shoes?”
She glanced down, then answered, “They’re bright green with yellow laces."
"And that's weird, right?"
Chick raised an eyebrow. “Did my Gordon get replaced by a pod person?”
I caught myself. I am such a dork. When I try, I get along with people smooth and easy. Let me get into my own head, though, and I forget the simple things, like saying hello. I took a breath and said, “Chick, thank you for arranging bail. Remind me to thank Michael Vrbin for covering it.”
“I will, and you’re welcome. But what’s all this about my hair and your shoes?”
“Did you know I was color blind?”
“Oh. That explains the shirts, doesn’t it?”
2. Ofthot
The One Where... Ginger Ofthot becomes the only person in the world to remember the books, or the author, of what had been a best-selling series of fantasy novels. Shortly before the last was to be released, all trace of them is gone, no one remembers them, and only the fact that she has the hardcover books convinces her that she's not crazy. She meets the books' supposed author, and he tells her that, in the end, the quest failed, and the bad guy (in this case, bad woman) won.
Currently at: about 32,400
Started/Last Updated: Created early 2005, last updated March 2006.
I dunwannawrite: I do wannawrite, and I know the basic plot. I want to learn the story as the characters write it under my fingers. This got derailed by work, and then by fanfic, including the Methos/Krycek novel Wotan's Day (60K+ words). This is next on deck in my "year of no fanfic writing," after #3, below, gets finished.
Here, Have A Bit:Heads turned as she entered the elevator. Ginger's visible skin was an azure blue, with contouring accents of lighter and darker shades to bring out her cheekbones and make her hands look real. Her armor was perfectly molded to her lanky frame, making soft chinging noises as the chain mail moved. She carried a sword in a scabbard across her back, and a mace hung from her belt where she had also tucked her gauntlets. It was all made out of vinyl and aluminum and high-grade plastics, but it looked almost real under fluorescent lighting, and very convincing in the softer lights usually found at a convention masque. Hanging on her chest was a very real copy of Vyeve's amulet, complete with the empty setting for the crystal, which Renee had made of silver and copper during one of her jewelry classes.
For the first time at a convention, though, Ginger felt self-conscious in her costume. Before today, everyone would have known who she meant to be. Now the looks were more questioning and the elevator silent until they reached the mezzanine floor. Ginger wanted to get out of the bright lights, and turned quickly toward the ballroom. One of the people from the elevator kept pace with her. He was dressed in full alien regalia from some show she didn't watch. His face was painted with spots around the hairline, and he had reasonably good, but visible, latex pieces to enhance his brow line.
Ginger got in line at the portable bar set up by the hotel to keep the masque goers out of the regular lounge, and he stood behind her.
"So, who are you supposed to be? Xena the Warrior Smurf?"
Ginger turned and put on her best polite smile. "Not intentionally."
He seemed to realize how rude he had been. "Just didn't recognize you as being anything else. If you'd had antennae, you'd be one of those Star Trek aliens, the Andoreans, except you're the wrong shade of blue. Too dark. They're more of a sky blue."
"Yes, and they'd have ray guns instead of swords" Ginger began, but came to a stop with no desire to engage in a discussion of the Andorians, but a loss as to what to tell him. "It's from an obscure series of books." She shrugged and turned away, and in a few moments she had secured a manhattan, and she took a sip with a silent toast to her mother. Through the doors she could hear the band, and she wandered in to listen. They were a three piece, with a woman playing violin and singing lead. Ginger's fingers twitched in sympathy, and she regretted leaving her violin in the lab.
3. Lars
The One Where... Lars Dahl (tall, pretty goth who runs a performance space) pulls Brian Hoechst (buff undercover cop) into a D/s sexual relationship. Brian is there to investigate a drug ring that uses touring bands to move pills and money. Plot driven, and the sex is ether plot-driving or character-revealing.
Currently at: about 20,553. Will probably finish at least 100K
Started/Last Updated: Created Jan1 2007 (or sometime in 1997-8, depending on how you count), last updated today. I created the characters for two stories for a stroke site. The plot has been cooking in the back of my mind for about five years.
I dunwannawrite: There's a character that's necessary, and Lars having sex with him is necessary, but he's not going to like it, and I don't want to write it. Lucky for me, that's at least five chapters away.
Here, Have A Bit:"So what's going on? Who is that guy out there, and where have you been? With him?"
I expected to be told to shut up or something, but he just said, "Yeah."
"So what's the deal?" I was more pissed off than I probably had a right to be. I felt a little better when he seemed to have a hard time saying what he wanted to say.
"I was trying to find out how to give you more of what you like. He's been training me."
I picked up the thread, "So what's this, your graduation?"
"Sort of. Hands on demo, I guess." He looked a little nervous, like he was afraid I'd bolt.
Not a chance. Two hot cops at once was not an opportunity to miss, but there were still all those questions in my mind. "What's my safe word?"
"You never had one with me, and I'm supposed to be your safety." He put his hands on my hips and I shivered. "Lars, you'll have to trust me." His gaze caught mine, held it for a long minute while his thumbs rubbed the skin just inside my hip bones. "Trust me completely or tell us to leave now."
No way in hell was I letting them leave. Then it hit me-it was the first time he'd ever said my name. I suddenly felt like I might be more than the freak he liked to fuck. I didn't say anything for a few minutes, and I felt his hands tighten. Then I leaned down and kissed him, sucked his tongue into my mouth and rubbed with the barbell. I gave him everything I had while my cock rubbed lightly on his gun belt, poking into his abs.
He pushed me back, his face serious. "Do you trust me?"