Writing Meme
From sinnerforhire: by way of ratherastory. First line of last 25 fics you wrote and try to find a pattern.
The story is an old one, going back sixty years or more now, but I know it because I was there for part of it.
The bar’s full and they’re working different areas but Sam never loses track of his brother- not even having to turn his head to follow Dean’s path through the crush of bodies.
His brother’s dead.
It had been building for days, but Sam had been ignoring it.
In Sam’s dream Dean speeds ahead, just out of his grasp.
His hands rub gentle circles on her body.
Really, “ Dean drawled mockingly.
The candles are just guttering flames by the time Sam licks the last trace of blueberry from his brother’s lips.
Dean managed to scramble into Sam's duffle without attracting his brother's attention and he rooted around in it quietly until he located Sam's favorite ugly ass t-shirt.
It’s hard to outfox Dean, Sam thinks, because he’s so fucking sneaky himself.
Most days it feels like the weight of the world is hanging around his neck.
Dean’s not totally back, but Sam knows how to get him there.
It was supposed to be for Dad.
Dean thought it would be darker in hell.
It’s been simmering since Dad caught up with them-now it’s reached the full boil of the 'Sam's pushed Dad until he snaps' phase.
Tonight is going to be a bad one-in the weeks since his brother’s been back from hell Sam has learned to recognize the signs.
It’s been a long time coming-this chance to take care of everything all at once.
"It's not right, Sam.
“You do what?”
Follow your nose.
“I’m just going to the library, Dean.”
Uriel wants to smite Sam where he stands- this tainted mud monkey with his faith shining so brightly he’s surprised the boy hasn’t burst into flame.
He’s pressed against a wall, unable to move, then he’s floating.
She’s tall , blonde and leaning against Dean’s shoulder like he’s the fucking Rock of Gibralter.
The feelings are still there, Sam knows.
I'm not much for analyzing and patterns. I write in the present tense a lot but I've been trying lately to do the past tense more. Very rarely will I start off a fic with dialogue. Some lines are Sam pov, some Dean. A few OC. I was kind of shocked when this list of first lines didn't even take me halfway through my stories. If anyone spots a pattern here could you let me know what it is? LOL
The story is an old one, going back sixty years or more now, but I know it because I was there for part of it.
The bar’s full and they’re working different areas but Sam never loses track of his brother- not even having to turn his head to follow Dean’s path through the crush of bodies.
His brother’s dead.
It had been building for days, but Sam had been ignoring it.
In Sam’s dream Dean speeds ahead, just out of his grasp.
His hands rub gentle circles on her body.
Really, “ Dean drawled mockingly.
The candles are just guttering flames by the time Sam licks the last trace of blueberry from his brother’s lips.
Dean managed to scramble into Sam's duffle without attracting his brother's attention and he rooted around in it quietly until he located Sam's favorite ugly ass t-shirt.
It’s hard to outfox Dean, Sam thinks, because he’s so fucking sneaky himself.
Most days it feels like the weight of the world is hanging around his neck.
Dean’s not totally back, but Sam knows how to get him there.
It was supposed to be for Dad.
Dean thought it would be darker in hell.
It’s been simmering since Dad caught up with them-now it’s reached the full boil of the 'Sam's pushed Dad until he snaps' phase.
Tonight is going to be a bad one-in the weeks since his brother’s been back from hell Sam has learned to recognize the signs.
It’s been a long time coming-this chance to take care of everything all at once.
"It's not right, Sam.
“You do what?”
Follow your nose.
“I’m just going to the library, Dean.”
Uriel wants to smite Sam where he stands- this tainted mud monkey with his faith shining so brightly he’s surprised the boy hasn’t burst into flame.
He’s pressed against a wall, unable to move, then he’s floating.
She’s tall , blonde and leaning against Dean’s shoulder like he’s the fucking Rock of Gibralter.
The feelings are still there, Sam knows.
I'm not much for analyzing and patterns. I write in the present tense a lot but I've been trying lately to do the past tense more. Very rarely will I start off a fic with dialogue. Some lines are Sam pov, some Dean. A few OC. I was kind of shocked when this list of first lines didn't even take me halfway through my stories. If anyone spots a pattern here could you let me know what it is? LOL