WIP fic meme
Stole this meme from loisarah and various other places :o)
Post the first sentence (or three) from every WIP you're currently working on, even if it's very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs. With any luck, the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!
The first paragraph or so of my current Flashpoint WIPs.
1.
"Got anything, Spike?"
There was no immediate answer, and Greg paused. "Spike?" The line remained quiet and Greg began to get a feeling of foreboding. He exchanged a worried glance with Ed.
2.
"Package disabled."
The team's collective sigh of relief was audible. Then Spike said, "What the-" and Ed looked up just in time to see a searing white flash briefly light up the cafeteria, followed by a loud noise thundering through the radio. Grey smoke was billowing against the windows.
3.
The man had just had a gun pointed at his head, and he hadn't even asked him if he was okay.
4.
It turned out his father did make it through the night. Barely. Spike had stayed at his father’s bed side the entire time, though he had come down from his adrenaline high just a few hours after he’d arrived at the hospital. His head had been pounding and his hands had been trembling slightly, but he had tried to soothe his father’s anxiety as best he could. They had talked a little but his father hadn’t brought up Spike’s job again and Spike was grateful for that. It meant that while his father still didn’t approve of his line of work, he had at least accepted that this was what his son had chosen to do for a living and that it wasn’t worth spending the precious few hours he had left arguing over. At 7.33 am his father had drawn his last breath, and then he was gone.
5.
"That's his car! Quick! Someone get the lights!" Jules called, quickly closing the curtains all the way.
Raf leaped to the door, narrowly avoiding the sofa, and flicked the main light switch, plunging the apartment into darkness.
6.
Slowly, very slowly awareness began to return and Spike struggled to pull his mind from the debilitating darkness. His head was pounding and there was a terrible crick in his neck. He groaned, but it sounded muffled to his own ears. There was something in his mouth, something soft but uncomfortable. When he swallowed, his throat felt painful, which told him he’d been out for a while and he wondered what the hell had happened. His mind felt sluggish, but when he found he couldn’t lift his arms, a panic seized him.
7.
"Spike! Spike, get off the ice!"
“SPIKE!”
“Oh my God, he fell in!”
Whew! That's...quite a few WIPs! If anyone's interested, fire away :o)
Post the first sentence (or three) from every WIP you're currently working on, even if it's very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs. With any luck, the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!
The first paragraph or so of my current Flashpoint WIPs.
1.
"Got anything, Spike?"
There was no immediate answer, and Greg paused. "Spike?" The line remained quiet and Greg began to get a feeling of foreboding. He exchanged a worried glance with Ed.
2.
"Package disabled."
The team's collective sigh of relief was audible. Then Spike said, "What the-" and Ed looked up just in time to see a searing white flash briefly light up the cafeteria, followed by a loud noise thundering through the radio. Grey smoke was billowing against the windows.
3.
The man had just had a gun pointed at his head, and he hadn't even asked him if he was okay.
4.
It turned out his father did make it through the night. Barely. Spike had stayed at his father’s bed side the entire time, though he had come down from his adrenaline high just a few hours after he’d arrived at the hospital. His head had been pounding and his hands had been trembling slightly, but he had tried to soothe his father’s anxiety as best he could. They had talked a little but his father hadn’t brought up Spike’s job again and Spike was grateful for that. It meant that while his father still didn’t approve of his line of work, he had at least accepted that this was what his son had chosen to do for a living and that it wasn’t worth spending the precious few hours he had left arguing over. At 7.33 am his father had drawn his last breath, and then he was gone.
5.
"That's his car! Quick! Someone get the lights!" Jules called, quickly closing the curtains all the way.
Raf leaped to the door, narrowly avoiding the sofa, and flicked the main light switch, plunging the apartment into darkness.
6.
Slowly, very slowly awareness began to return and Spike struggled to pull his mind from the debilitating darkness. His head was pounding and there was a terrible crick in his neck. He groaned, but it sounded muffled to his own ears. There was something in his mouth, something soft but uncomfortable. When he swallowed, his throat felt painful, which told him he’d been out for a while and he wondered what the hell had happened. His mind felt sluggish, but when he found he couldn’t lift his arms, a panic seized him.
7.
"Spike! Spike, get off the ice!"
“SPIKE!”
“Oh my God, he fell in!”
Whew! That's...quite a few WIPs! If anyone's interested, fire away :o)