Dying Detectives, Online Shopping and Drawer Fic
I'm currently obsessed with The Adventure of The Dying Detective particularly by the idea of RDJ and JL doing it.
Because, damn, Law's John MF Watson would a. come out from behind that curtain and cockpunch Culverton Smith until he was dead and b. would break a few things over Holmes' head, while encouraging Mrs. Hudson to join in.
W: (head tilted, eyes crazy) "Holmes? Are you saying ... that you ... were pretending to be dying?
H: Of course, old boy! And did a great job of it too!
W: And you didn't feel fit to inform me of this fact?
H: Goodness, no. You can't keep a secret, silly pudding.
The next scene is RDJ Holmes running from the room like a madman, robe and nightshirt flapping, making for the door. A few knick-knacks from come flying out after him. Maybe Mrs. Hudson trips him before he can escape.
If the second movie starts like this (a nice foreshadowing of falls scene, which is how I think the second film will end) I will gladly send Guy Ritchie a big bucket of cookies. Two buckets of cookies.
---
I just put in an online shopping order and forgot the toilet paper and water. *rolls eyes* WTF IS WRONG WITH ME?
*sigh*
ETA: Just called them and they are throwing them in. I LOVE MY SUPERMARKET. (They sent me a giant chocolate bar with every order when I was very sick a few years ago. See? Customer service, it works.)
---
I'm still having fun writing fic but I'm growing shy again about sharing it. I'm not a writer who disdains drawer fic, I truly enjoy having a big stash of it (ask Rap, she knows.) I'm always like, damn, this piece is really self-indulgent, who wants to read this - except for me, I'm not ashamed to say that I *love* my own stories precisely because they are so self-indulgent - and then I'm all like, meh, you're missing the point, of course fanfic's all about what you want to see/imagine.
Everyone isn't meant to like it, just a like-minded few. And if that's a small subset of the fandom you're currently in, that's all right.
But then I remember having those notebooks full of stories about hanging out with the Beatles and being all Mary Yenta with them and I get fuzzy inside. I don't have to finish my drawer fic, I don't have to polish it, it needs no damned continuity, it can be as ridiculous and schmoopy and melodramatic as I like and it's all mine.
The problem is that I can easily become curled up in that drawer, no longer wanting to come out and play. I guess that's not a problem, except I like the rush of sharing and having people enjoy it and justify my scribbling and make me feel not so stupid about my hobby.
Gah. Rambling. Anyway, my Inigo/Fezzik will never see the light of day but I'm glad it's there, nonetheless.
Because, damn, Law's John MF Watson would a. come out from behind that curtain and cockpunch Culverton Smith until he was dead and b. would break a few things over Holmes' head, while encouraging Mrs. Hudson to join in.
W: (head tilted, eyes crazy) "Holmes? Are you saying ... that you ... were pretending to be dying?
H: Of course, old boy! And did a great job of it too!
W: And you didn't feel fit to inform me of this fact?
H: Goodness, no. You can't keep a secret, silly pudding.
The next scene is RDJ Holmes running from the room like a madman, robe and nightshirt flapping, making for the door. A few knick-knacks from come flying out after him. Maybe Mrs. Hudson trips him before he can escape.
If the second movie starts like this (a nice foreshadowing of falls scene, which is how I think the second film will end) I will gladly send Guy Ritchie a big bucket of cookies. Two buckets of cookies.
---
I just put in an online shopping order and forgot the toilet paper and water. *rolls eyes* WTF IS WRONG WITH ME?
*sigh*
ETA: Just called them and they are throwing them in. I LOVE MY SUPERMARKET. (They sent me a giant chocolate bar with every order when I was very sick a few years ago. See? Customer service, it works.)
---
I'm still having fun writing fic but I'm growing shy again about sharing it. I'm not a writer who disdains drawer fic, I truly enjoy having a big stash of it (ask Rap, she knows.) I'm always like, damn, this piece is really self-indulgent, who wants to read this - except for me, I'm not ashamed to say that I *love* my own stories precisely because they are so self-indulgent - and then I'm all like, meh, you're missing the point, of course fanfic's all about what you want to see/imagine.
Everyone isn't meant to like it, just a like-minded few. And if that's a small subset of the fandom you're currently in, that's all right.
But then I remember having those notebooks full of stories about hanging out with the Beatles and being all Mary Yenta with them and I get fuzzy inside. I don't have to finish my drawer fic, I don't have to polish it, it needs no damned continuity, it can be as ridiculous and schmoopy and melodramatic as I like and it's all mine.
The problem is that I can easily become curled up in that drawer, no longer wanting to come out and play. I guess that's not a problem, except I like the rush of sharing and having people enjoy it and justify my scribbling and make me feel not so stupid about my hobby.
Gah. Rambling. Anyway, my Inigo/Fezzik will never see the light of day but I'm glad it's there, nonetheless.