pippychick

Chapter Twenty-seven Ok… another evil cliffhanger, I know, but I already wrote most of the continuation. I had to split it up, because nothing will make me post 6K + chapters. Anyway, now that’s done, I have a bit of housework to do, then hopefully, all being well, I can get around to some reading. I see there are some halloween stories flying around.

I think I probably tend to overuse these kinds of descriptors a lot. I also use a lot of ‘he said’ ‘she said’ and I go into describing exactly how things are said sometimes. I can’t help it. I hear things more easily than I see them. For me a scene might have a collection of vivid imagery, but an extremely consistent soundtrack. I don’t know if it’s something to do with being musical besides being a writer. Character voices are usually crystal clear to me, which is why I’m probably still dawdling around writing fanfic after all this time. I don’t know… it’s really hard to judge yourself, no matter how many times you read over it. But, as to the original question, it should feel natural. If the character is making a sound in your mind at that point in the story, write it out, and my advice for what it’s worth is don’t skimp. This isn’t just noise. Sound is one of the textures that makes up our lives. It’s just as important as any of the other senses, especially when it’s an intimate situation. If you can, don’t just leave it there. If character A whispers, how does that affect character B? Are they close enough to feel it, as well as hear it? Use sound. Use it to bring your readers in, so that they’re with the characters, with everything that’s happening. I don’t know how else to put it. I kind of wish I knew how to deconstruct it properly like an English teacher or something, but I don’t. If it’s happening in your mind, write it.

You know, I’ve always looked to Sheffield’s industrial past and thought there must be a good supernatural horror story or two lurking there. Sheffield’s heart is a dark, dead space filled with crumbling red brick buildings blackened with grime, and smashed factory windows. And it’ll remain like that forever, no matter how much “regeneration” they engage in. It’s our history. All those souls lost to industry. And through the middle of it all, making it possible, the river Don. Without the river, there’d have been no industrialisation of Sheffield. If that river was conscious, and it could speak, it would hate all of us. Without a doubt. I mean, I won’t write that, but that’s the angle I’ll probably take. I love your idea! It’s the resentment of the natural world, personified in a single instance between a river and a man. If effluent, toxic chemicals and waste from manufacturing processes can hurt and kill a river, I’m sure there’s an equivalent for a man. The body horror I’m evisaging is kind of taking you literally. I mean, sticks, stones and riverbed mud in odd places would be incredibly painful, perhaps even fatal. And especially if they just kept appearing. How long would this man endure something like that before he went along to the doctor? Would he? How would he hide it? When exactly would he get past the point of entitlement (once he realised what was happening to him) and decide that it was time to appease whatever it was he’d angered? Would it have a chance in hell of working? And that’s just first thoughts. Lots of evil potential! *rubs hands together*

Haha… seems to me there’d be a whole lot of scope for genuine body horror in this one. Similar theme, completely different approach to the other one I wrote. If I ever get done with GoT, and no one else has taken it, I might keep this in mind.

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-five

I don’t know the fandom, but... If you’re after keeping the situation fairly platonic and familial, then that’s easy enough. You can do that by way of what the sisters notice about each other while they’re snuggled together. As the author, you provide the cues for the reader. If, however, you want the situation to be erotic for the reader, just not for the characters, that’s a slightly more tricky proposition. In that case, I’d suggest pulling the narrative back from the characters a little at times, so that you can be quite descriptive about what’s going on physically, without needing to involve how the two sisters feel about it, as such, and just dipping in here and there to peek at them enjoying these moments as sisters. If, on yet another hand (is that three so far?) you want to have a kind of charged erotic situation with some unresolved sexual tension going on, well then you’re probably best off concentrating on one of the characters, and going deep into them. Letting them have all their dirty thoughts, while trying on the surface not to let it become apparent in what they do. Particularly focus if they feel any guilt or shame. Those emotions are always good, especially where incest is concerned, as characters will generally try to rationalise it for themselves. If, on a fourth hand (and at this point I’m probably using someone else’s hands), the sisters are already in some kind of established incestuous thing and they’re both cool with it, but for some reason they’re not going to start eating each other or something… well, then I really don’t belong on this thread… *runs away*

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-three

Aww… thank you I suspect the crisis has been brought on by a particular demon that affects most of us. The one that sidles up to you and whispers: “Hey, you… you’re just kidding yourself. This is shit. You know that, right? You’d be much better off spending your time doing something useful. And you know everybody hates it when you spend hours and hours in front of the computer.” I hate that demon. I wish it would die a nasty, painful death. Maybe that’s a good Halloween fic idea!

I should probably reply to this thread when I’m not having one of those ridiculous crises of confidence that strikes every so often… but let’s pretend I’m not. So here goes: I think the two reasons mentioned in the article are a load of claptrap. It might apply to novel writers, but it certainly doesn’t to fanfiction authors, who can’t sell what they write, so therefore the second reason can never apply. As for the first, I don’t think many of us start writing (original or fanfiction) with a fully formed story in our heads. I think it comes to us during the process. Why do I write? Getting down to the nuts and bolts. I love the language. I like words, and I like playing around with them. I’m not educated, so I don’t always know the correct terms, but I know more or less what I’m doing. Also, despite the crisis mentioned above, I suspect I’m actually quite good at it, unlike, say… football. So I write. And I don’t play football. I like writing casually, sure. I also like writing less casually. I like writing where I take my time over word choices and put a lot of effort into building and maintaining a specific atmosphere. The horror story I wrote for JayDee is an example of that. There’s lots of water-based description going on there that happens when I’m describing ordinary things. i.e. her hope bubbled up in her. The S&M story The Hook I adored writing, because of the atmosphere of despair in it. Fanfiction is an art in and of itself. Lots of people who hate fanfiction will disagree with me here, and they’re free to, but I won’t change my mind. Let’s imagine I’m my usual confident self for one moment. I’ve now got years of fanfiction writing experience behind me. I’ve written in a lot of different fandoms. There’s a slightly different art to writing fanfiction for a literary medium, to writing for a visual canon, like a film or tv series. The echoes you need to include are different. At this point, I’m like a master art forger who can knock out a fairly credible da Vinci, but can’t paint for themselves. I’m not less of an artist. I still haven’t found that key that makes the original work sparkle in my head the same way as the fanfiction does, but if I ever do, I probably won’t look back. In that case, the second reason will probably seem to apply. But it won’t be the first why and wherefore. It won’t be the driving force. That is and will always be the need to play about with words, to use them to create a feeling, or an atmosphere, or to say something that can’t really be put into words, only alluded to by way of a story. If we could say these things out loud just like that, we’d never have made stories. Stories grant us power we don’t otherwise have. It’s a good feeling, even if you tend to write rather awful things. Ok… can I go back now? *huddles back under rock*

I can write, and I'm more glad about that than being better and out of hospital. Chapter 23 is calling to me. I may as well talk about it. I don't think anyone is following this story now, and so this is really self-indulgent, especially since this is the bit that – usually – is about manipulation of the readers' emotions. Without readers, it's a bit... sort of pointless *shrugs* Always, ultimately, it's them I want to get, via the characters. But, I really do love these characters. I mean, not enough to save them from their fate, obviously. But definitely enough to want to give them this good stuff first. All this that will make it that much more awful later on. It potentiates their despair. It's kind of beautiful. It's an investment that will pay off. I'll still do it, because it feels too right not to, even if it doesn't work on anyone except me. I can't say how much I wish I knew what I'd done to lose the few that did follow at first. What I did to lose you. Knowing that is as important as all the rest. To kind of steal and paraphrase from the genius of Michael Ende. You were with me at the beginning. You were with me when I changed the tone. You were with me when I went places that required some tagging... where did I lose you? *sighs* So early. I feel so incredibly clumsy. But I read through it, and I can't see the place, or the event, or the piece of dialogue. And I can't stop. This has to be told.

Ha! You know as well as I do their answer to everything is codeine. That’s not happening. I’ll concede to paracetamol... when absolutely necessary. I don’t want people breaking into my house for the street value of my medicine cabinet. Sod that. At least they sent me away with some more heavy duty antibiotics after all the IV ones. So that should finish the attack off for now, and for a while with any luck.

Thank you, InvidiaRed Glad you had fun!

Just my humble opinion, but having the characters put on hats, gloves and scarves to begin leads the reader to expect play that’s a little rougher than your scene needs if the erotic content is going to work… that’s where you’re going to run into trouble. Ditch the accessories. By using them, you create a peculiar mental image, and call attention to the parts of the characters that aren’t covered up, and that makes the reader feel the cold. You want the play to be very light. You want the snow to be extremely light. You want the the Oh, but that’s cold! to be a perfect counterpoint to Oh, but you’re warm! That’s how this scene would work. I’ve written it before, more than once. And I’ll write it again, because… Ahhh… they’re going to end up in the snow. Poor buggers. Even the wildling is going to hate it by the end. I am so evil. *shakes head at self*

And… I’m back home! Two CT scans later, after a panic by the doctors where they thought I didn’t have appendicitis, but instead a much more serious inflammation ofthe main artery that supplies blood to my legs (scary), they’ve finally settled on a painful disease that isn’t life threatening (or at least, not yet). I’ve been knocked out with morphine and codeine and shoved full of antibiotics. What a performance. While I was there, I discovered why I never write longhand. I love my computer. Thank you for all your well wishes, everyone. Most appreciated, even if I did have a load of trouble getting online whilst I was there. Normal service shall now be resumed. After a good night’s kip. And a decent cup of coffee. And a couple of days rest, probably. And a shower to get this horrible hospital smell off of me.

So I went to work, and did feel better for a little bit, but I guess I paid for it later on after I’d dropped the greyhound off for her appointment at the vet for her teeth. I waited until 6pm to get the dog back. She’s had two teeth out and is on the settee all woozy, poor thing. Vet also dug two corns out of her feet while she was under. Yes, I waited for her, but then I dialled the NHS, to see what was going on with me, because I’ve been in – well, I wouldn’t call it agony, because I’ve had gallstones before, but it’s close enough. I don’t know why their phone number exists. Off I go to hospital, as soon as I’ve gathered some stuff together, because it could be my appendix. At my age! Why can’t they just cut all the useless bits off when you’re young? Anyway, hope it isn’t. Hope I come back quick. Like tonight. Hope I come back. I am not bloody dying on the 10th of October. They can’t make me. (If, later, it turns out to be the case, I’d be grateful if you could all go ahead and believe it happened on the 11th for me) Oh, and I’m taking paper and a pen with me, because they kept me in for one night for the gallbladder surgery, and I was climbing the walls then. *looks at dog* Seriously bad timing this. Really, terribly bad... *sighs* *swears* *disappears*

Ok… *whistles Wedding March* Yep! Tormund is getting hitched! Chapter Twenty-two If you read – have fun! This is a really long chapter from me, at around 5,500 words.

Kind of stalled on this at the moment. Not sure why, because I can still “see” the scene very clearly, it’s just not… *sighs* I wish I could turn the TV off, but other people would have things to say about that

Chapter Twenty-one