Original Fic: Too Many Children
I'm tagging this "To Be an Airplane" because that is the working title for an original story that I have very very very very slowly in the works. I have a very vague storyline overview, but what I'm doing at the moment is writing short stories about different characters... The way I write fanfic for Sherlock. I like writing, and I want to write longer works, but I am really bad at getting into the heads of my own characters. It occurred to me that I get into Sherlock's head and John's head through fanfic. Why not my own characters? anyway, that's my explanatory note.
Also, I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY want constructive criticism. I promise I will not cry into my pillow at night because you have something bad to say. So when I post these original things, please tell me how I can improve!
And that's all. :-)
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She looked back. The whole city was burning. And he… he’d given his place to her. He’d…
One more for the reject pile. Dreck. But nostalgic dreck. Perhaps another…but still, not even obsessive compulsive historical accuracy could save a preachy escape-from-Pompeii doomed love story.
Jen flipped though a twice-stapled packet. From the days when she handed out miscarriages to her heroines like… like… is there a phrase for that? Try googling later. She dropped the manuscript on top of preachy Pompeii .
It was quiet downstairs. She cocked her head, then shook it and grabbed another wrinkled sheet. Quiet was good. Very good. Obviously. The world could use more quiet.
His memory led him to understand that what he held in his hand was an outdated method of knowledge and communication, more precise, yet less time-effective. Mnemeteck had made books obsolete.
If books are obsolete, Birque wondered, then how did I get this?
Jen snorted. Because a future without the written word is a really original sci-fi idea…Yeah. Still, you never know. She folded it in half.
There were several post-it notes.
Something illegible about Alison - a fun character. Definitely worth develop-Was that…?
“EMMA!”
Yes, it was… But they’d be fine. If she went down she’d have to drag herself back up. No problem so big it can’t sort itself out.
Was that a poem on the second post-it? She giggled. Apparently meter hadn’t always come-
“GIVE IT BACK”
Jen sighed. She scooped all the scraps into the shoebox and heaved herself up. There was always naptime. After a second look at the attic ladder, she placed the box on the old changing table. Best to use two hands. A fall at this point would mean… and of course Arthur could get the box when he came up for the changing table and the other stuff tomorrow. That novel would wait for a few da-
“MOOOOOOM!”
A few years.
Also, I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY want constructive criticism. I promise I will not cry into my pillow at night because you have something bad to say. So when I post these original things, please tell me how I can improve!
And that's all. :-)
------------------------------------------------------------
She looked back. The whole city was burning. And he… he’d given his place to her. He’d…
One more for the reject pile. Dreck. But nostalgic dreck. Perhaps another…but still, not even obsessive compulsive historical accuracy could save a preachy escape-from-Pompeii doomed love story.
Jen flipped though a twice-stapled packet. From the days when she handed out miscarriages to her heroines like… like… is there a phrase for that? Try googling later. She dropped the manuscript on top of preachy Pompeii .
It was quiet downstairs. She cocked her head, then shook it and grabbed another wrinkled sheet. Quiet was good. Very good. Obviously. The world could use more quiet.
His memory led him to understand that what he held in his hand was an outdated method of knowledge and communication, more precise, yet less time-effective. Mnemeteck had made books obsolete.
If books are obsolete, Birque wondered, then how did I get this?
Jen snorted. Because a future without the written word is a really original sci-fi idea…Yeah. Still, you never know. She folded it in half.
There were several post-it notes.
Something illegible about Alison - a fun character. Definitely worth develop-Was that…?
“EMMA!”
Yes, it was… But they’d be fine. If she went down she’d have to drag herself back up. No problem so big it can’t sort itself out.
Was that a poem on the second post-it? She giggled. Apparently meter hadn’t always come-
“GIVE IT BACK”
Jen sighed. She scooped all the scraps into the shoebox and heaved herself up. There was always naptime. After a second look at the attic ladder, she placed the box on the old changing table. Best to use two hands. A fall at this point would mean… and of course Arthur could get the box when he came up for the changing table and the other stuff tomorrow. That novel would wait for a few da-
“MOOOOOOM!”
A few years.