more snippet fic (beta? do I need one?)
I snippet-ficced again (below), after my previous snippet-fic-ing for last week's fifty-eighth challenge at ds_snippets.
Everyone seems to have their snippets beta-ed. I haven't. I wonder if This Is Bad. But, I mean, I spell-check everything and check grammar. Don't feel the need for a beta, I guess. Hmmm. That sounds arrogant, but that isn't how I meant it. I just feel like, why bother someone with this, when I could just do it myself, since it's only 300 words.
This snippet-fic-ing seems kind of addictive. God knows it's easier than embarking on a real story; those inevitably (in my case) turn out much longer than I expect, and take much longer than I want. Good thing I'm not a real author. I'd never make the deadlines. But, um, I think the snippets are good writing exercises. It's tough to fit everything into 300 words, coherently, telling a story people would actually want to read. (Well, that I would actually want to read. I am my harshest critic.)
I guess it's better to have it looked over, though, by "fresh eyes." But that doesn't quite fit with my "drop fic, then run," sporadic, erratic, spends-most-of-her-time-offline-due-to-soft-tissue-injuries-of-the-wrists (not eligible for carpal tunnel surgery), rogue fanfic style.
ETA: The benefits counselor's fireman story is based on -- well, is a mere paraphrasing of -- a story that a real benefits counselor told me when I was hired for a job at a local municipality, whose benefits for all local government employees -- including cops and firemen -- were the same. Seriously. Sometimes you can't make this shit up, it's real life. I just added the two divorced cops for Fraser/Ray relevance.
Now, on to Unless They Let It Go DS, F/K, PG, 300 words
Title: Unless They Let It Go
Author: verushka70
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: F/K
Rating: PG, I guess
Prompt: wrestling, sunrise, charity, 59th challenge song lyrics
Length: 300 words
Unless They Let It Go.
Ray thinks about lying. Successfully to people he doesn’t care about. Unsuccessfully to those he loves--unless they let it go, don‘t fight about it.
His death benefit statement came. Stella is still beneficiary.
Ray remembers his session with the Benefits Counselor when he was hired. He named Stella beneficiary for everything. For love. Deep, aching, helpless love.
The counselor told him: a fireman named his wife and widowed mother beneficiaries. Injured severely in a fire, he later died. His wife and mother, driving together to the hospital, were killed in an accident on the way. With no kids, his death benefits went to no one.
She spoke of two childless and divorced cops, partners, named each other’s beneficiaries. Killed simultaneously in the line of duty. No death benefits.
Name someone you don’t live with, younger than you, who isn’t a spouse or partner, who can arrange your funeral, she told Ray. Funerals are expensive.
He chose Stella anyway.
Ray thinks about Fraser as beneficiary.
The Counselor would not approve.
* * *
At sunrise on a fruitless stakeout, wrestling with the lie, Ray asks Fraser.
“Got a social security number, or something Canadian like it?”
“Why, yes, Ray,” Fraser answers and recites it.
“Not now.” He waves Fraser silent. “Later.”
Ray’s face heats with Fraser’s trust in him--saying the number, no questions asked.
Fraser sees something in him. Ray wonders what. He thinks about his stark, empty, post-divorce life. Needle on his personal compass spinning wildly, never pointing at anything for long. Despondency. Directionless-ness. The undercover offer.
Then Fraser. Fraser’s partnership. Fraser’s friendship.
Fraser’s wildly bizarre life-endangerment.
“I donated to this charity. In your name. I need it so you get a tax deduction,” Ray lies.
Weak, he thinks.
“Ah,” Fraser says, in his I’m-humoring-you voice.
Fraser’s love.
Everyone seems to have their snippets beta-ed. I haven't. I wonder if This Is Bad. But, I mean, I spell-check everything and check grammar. Don't feel the need for a beta, I guess. Hmmm. That sounds arrogant, but that isn't how I meant it. I just feel like, why bother someone with this, when I could just do it myself, since it's only 300 words.
This snippet-fic-ing seems kind of addictive. God knows it's easier than embarking on a real story; those inevitably (in my case) turn out much longer than I expect, and take much longer than I want. Good thing I'm not a real author. I'd never make the deadlines. But, um, I think the snippets are good writing exercises. It's tough to fit everything into 300 words, coherently, telling a story people would actually want to read. (Well, that I would actually want to read. I am my harshest critic.)
I guess it's better to have it looked over, though, by "fresh eyes." But that doesn't quite fit with my "drop fic, then run," sporadic, erratic, spends-most-of-her-time-offline-due-to-soft-tissue-injuries-of-the-wrists (not eligible for carpal tunnel surgery), rogue fanfic style.
ETA: The benefits counselor's fireman story is based on -- well, is a mere paraphrasing of -- a story that a real benefits counselor told me when I was hired for a job at a local municipality, whose benefits for all local government employees -- including cops and firemen -- were the same. Seriously. Sometimes you can't make this shit up, it's real life. I just added the two divorced cops for Fraser/Ray relevance.
Now, on to Unless They Let It Go DS, F/K, PG, 300 words
Title: Unless They Let It Go
Author: verushka70
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: F/K
Rating: PG, I guess
Prompt: wrestling, sunrise, charity, 59th challenge song lyrics
Length: 300 words
Unless They Let It Go.
Ray thinks about lying. Successfully to people he doesn’t care about. Unsuccessfully to those he loves--unless they let it go, don‘t fight about it.
His death benefit statement came. Stella is still beneficiary.
Ray remembers his session with the Benefits Counselor when he was hired. He named Stella beneficiary for everything. For love. Deep, aching, helpless love.
The counselor told him: a fireman named his wife and widowed mother beneficiaries. Injured severely in a fire, he later died. His wife and mother, driving together to the hospital, were killed in an accident on the way. With no kids, his death benefits went to no one.
She spoke of two childless and divorced cops, partners, named each other’s beneficiaries. Killed simultaneously in the line of duty. No death benefits.
Name someone you don’t live with, younger than you, who isn’t a spouse or partner, who can arrange your funeral, she told Ray. Funerals are expensive.
He chose Stella anyway.
Ray thinks about Fraser as beneficiary.
The Counselor would not approve.
* * *
At sunrise on a fruitless stakeout, wrestling with the lie, Ray asks Fraser.
“Got a social security number, or something Canadian like it?”
“Why, yes, Ray,” Fraser answers and recites it.
“Not now.” He waves Fraser silent. “Later.”
Ray’s face heats with Fraser’s trust in him--saying the number, no questions asked.
Fraser sees something in him. Ray wonders what. He thinks about his stark, empty, post-divorce life. Needle on his personal compass spinning wildly, never pointing at anything for long. Despondency. Directionless-ness. The undercover offer.
Then Fraser. Fraser’s partnership. Fraser’s friendship.
Fraser’s wildly bizarre life-endangerment.
“I donated to this charity. In your name. I need it so you get a tax deduction,” Ray lies.
Weak, he thinks.
“Ah,” Fraser says, in his I’m-humoring-you voice.
Fraser’s love.