I've been tagged by [livejournal.com profile] pir8fancier to participate in the 7 lines meme: seven lines from page 7 or 77 of a WIP. I'm going to cheat and post two, one from a fanfic, one from an original fic.

(For the first WIP I opened, the entirety of page 77 is filthy, filthy porn, and I'm too embarrassed to post that out of context. So, second WIP. I must say, you can get a lot of mileage out of compound, comma-spliced sentences. *cough*)


Downward he streaks like a shooting star, picking up speed, the speed of light, faster and faster, the blackness growing, growing brighter, and then—oh Merlin he's on fire. He blazes through the void, keening, "Harry, Harry," while everything he was, everything he is, is being burned, burning up, consumed down to the bone.

"SEVERUS," someone screams. It's too late, he can't stop himself, it's already too late, he's on a collision course with the end of the world, and like a flaming asteroid his life, his whole bloody life, falls through years and space and memories and stars, and detonates on impact.

The force of his landing emits a thunder of light, endless and annihilating. The sum of himself, rage and grief, sacrifice and passion, loathing and love, explodes outward.

For an unknowable span of time Severus Snape disappears from the universe.


Excerpt 2, of which only eleven pages exist. So these convoluted sentences are plucked from page seven.

>The prehistoric horrors that lurked in the superstitious brainstem of the whole species surfaced in him, and abruptly Manny felt around him the burden of infinite blackness, silence, nonexistence, the presence of thousands of tons of rock suspended above his head.

He stared for a moment without approaching the Celtic knot of young limbs tucked and twined around the central t-shirt. It seemed an obvious cross between fetal position and a magical calligraphy meant to ward off the horrors of premature burial. The figure’s hands covered its face. Its glitter-dusted jeans shone incongruously blue in this realm of white limestone. Despite that homespun blue, and despite the ragdoll fringe of curls yarning wildly above the shielding hands - it was the long, knucklebone hands, by the way, that confirmed Manny’s hunch that his quarry was a boy, besides the fact that he was pretty sure no girl would ever have been so stupid.

But despite the mass-produced fashion sense and the coxcomb hair, the contorted boy was a dead ringer, in the grotesque, paralyzed beauty of his contortion, for one of those lava-embalmed figures taken intact and alien as rock from the excavated ruins of Pompeii.


(Yes, believe it or not, all of that consists of only seven sentences. I should have been born in the Victorian era.)

Let's see, I tag [livejournal.com profile] kellychambliss, [livejournal.com profile] cerberusia, [livejournal.com profile] _hannelore, [personal profile] delphi, [livejournal.com profile] pauraque, [livejournal.com profile] lash_larue, and [livejournal.com profile] writcraft.

Have at it, you seven brilliant writers.
Tags:
delphi: (Default)

From: [personal profile] delphi


That is a brilliant HP excerpt that immediately makes me want to read the entire work, because oh man, is that ever wonderfully intense. Also, colour me intrigued by the original excerpt. I remain in love with your well-scaffolded, towering Victorian sentences. :-D
delphi: (Default)

From: [personal profile] delphi


Also, I would like to register my disappointment at being denied an excerpt from the filthy, filthy porn.
venturous: (skeptical snape)

From: [personal profile] venturous


yes, me too. but, I would rather have them in there fully glorious context.
delphi: (Default)

From: [personal profile] delphi


Ha, all right - I can't judge, as I ended up doing the same thing. One of my page 7s is in a medical kink story and happened to be the page where the "medical" jumped pretty hard to the "kink". I cropped it at a joke about rectal thermometers.
delphi: (Default)

From: [personal profile] delphi


First of all, I love that you just wrote "WsiP", because when I was writing up my post, I paused for a ridiculous amount of time over how I was going to abbreviate "works in progress".

Second, I'm sticking with "towering". I don't think there's such a thing as too long a sentence when it's well-constructed, and I've gotten lost in much shorter sentences than your average offering. I think your sentence construction is one of the reasons why your work always has such a sense of depth when you linger in one place and such a sense of forward momentum when you're moving.

Really interesting meme, though. It's funny how far seven sentences will or won't go. I posted several excerpts on my turn, and the longest has nearly a hundred words on the shortest, with the others spread out fairly evenly in between.
venturous: (Default)

From: [personal profile] venturous


here, here! a round of robust applause for the thoroughly exhaustive sentance! one must wring everything from life. ( a friend died on me, suddenly, this weekend. I am feeling quite tender)

From: [identity profile] enname.livejournal.com


If I did that meme, it would have to be page 77 of my thesis and gosh.. that is just as likely to end in a tragedy of Latin, farting cat demon or exceptionally dry theory.

Well... now I want more of both. :)

Also, I think I forgot to reply or rather I replied and it failed to post, but if you wanted to send me the fic for the ... thing.. whatsit. Festival? Oh gads my brain. That one. Then I have time to read it now. Although give the above sentence chaos, you might not want me to!

From: [identity profile] perverse-idyll.livejournal.com


A tragedy of Latin and farting cat demons sounds pretty entertaining to me. That may be due in part to my re-reading The Name of the Rose and snorting with amusement over Eco's lovingly detailed descriptions of medieval manuscripts and church altar representations of all manner of devilish and demented sideshow grotesques. These gleeful enumerations crop up every few chapters and can natter merrily on for half a page. So bring on the farting cat demons, say I!

The first seven-liner is plucked from one of my Snarry WsiP currently languishing on AO3, so theoretically the world will someday see that excerpt in context. I may have to make minor sacrifices to small gods in order to ensure that, though.

If you truly have time, I'll be glad to send it on, but don't expect anything too complex. It's a PWP that outgrew its inspiration, and I'm not sure it can bear the weight of so many words. That's why I'm still brooding.

You may be as inarticulate as you please. Any feedback whatsoever is a gift. :)

From: [identity profile] enname.livejournal.com


The stories are pretty amusing, I will give them that. Farting cat demon, donkey dick demons, super hero punching girl... Medieval people had a very gregarious and utterly rude sense of humour. The more threesomes and ridiculous clowning with arse jokes they could cram in, the better. All with a serious moral of course. :P

Ahh, The Name of the Rose. Dear old Umberto Eco and his semiotics. That book is such a pastiche of Italian poetry, medieval quotation and theories of mind, memory, and medievalism... Nevermind the rage I feel about his trashing of poor Bernard Gui. No one deserves that sort of distortion, no matter how much it serves the function in the medieval debate over the place of reason and observation in ethics. Damn Franciscan lover!

Yay! I am glad I will read it. I also rather like the original fiction too though.

I have the file, it is on my to do list for the weekend. :)

Oh no... I am pretty inarticulate at the moment. Whole levels of incoherency are happening. Exercise your mind, lose the ability to speak!
pauraque: bird flying (Default)

From: [personal profile] pauraque


Ha, I rarely write things that go on for seven pages, let alone 77. But I'll see what I can come up with.

Your original fic sounds intriguing. What happens next? :)


From: [identity profile] perverse-idyll.livejournal.com


Whoops, yes, this occurred to me as I was typing up your name, not to mention that it's not a given that all authors have scads of WsiP lying around. You could always tweak the requirements and choose lines starting from the seventh paragraph, maybe?

As for the next moment in the original fic: the body stirs, and Manny hurries over to hold and reassure the young idiot and tell him he's all right. The section more or less ends with:

Thus Manny met Jules, who wasn’t waiting for anyone, who was simply there in the uninterrupted density and peace of the underworld. And thus Manny carried back to the surface - well, perhaps guided, he held in his arms, he didn’t exactly carry - this spirit of the unseen, this pale wraith of his darkest heart.
ext_7739: (Default)

From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_hannelore/


I also tend to not write fic that is that lengthy, but I'll see what I can do. :D

I also really like both of yours, though I am very curious about the original piece.

From: [identity profile] perverse-idyll.livejournal.com


Heh, yes, I sometimes forget not everyone is as wordy as I am. You and [livejournal.com profile] pauraque tend to be more succinct and distilled rather than verbose. Maybe start at a seventh paragraph? Or with the seventh line from the top of the page?

The original fic is a fantasy I fuss with occasionally that takes place in New Mexico. Manny is the son of a secular Jewish academic and a Mexican Pentecostalist; he used to speak in tongues as a child in his mother's congregation, but lost the ability and his faith in God when puberty hit. Now he gets migraines instead. He's discovered a cave formation (that I'm modeling somewhat on Lechuguilla (http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/earth/journey-into-lechuguilla-cave.html)) and has kept it a secret.

Jules (whom he's just rescued) is a high-school drop-out, smart, dyslexic, gay, who lives in a trailer home with his amateur theatrical mother; he's something of a trickster figure, who builds a tower out of found objects that he paints black.

Sara (who isn't in this scene) works with her father in an antique clock repair and retail shop; she has an affinity with timepieces, which turn out to be a precursor of other powers.

So, clocks, caves, deserts, alternative building (Manny is slowly creating a cob structure in the middle of the nowhere he nicknames The House of No God), fools, divine possession, and multiple UST mixed with various inexplicable happenings. I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing with it, but I threw in a lot of things I like. :P
ext_7739: (Default)

From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_hannelore/


The article on Lechuguilla is so interesting your story is fascinating. I'm always intrigued on what kind of original fic fanfic writers create and how that ties into the kind of fanfic they write (and what interests them). I hope you post more about this story!

It's funny, I never really intend for my pieces to be short but it's just sort of how they turn out to be. One of these days (if my arm ever cooperates), I have a longfic idea of a young Horace Slughorn (assigned female at birth) befriending Muggle plastic surgeon Sir Archibald McIndoe and transitioning under the guise of being one of his WWII "guinea pigs."

From: [identity profile] perverse-idyll.livejournal.com


With original fiction, I like to tempt myself by loading the story with random interesting things I have to find some sort of plot justification for. It helps kick-start inspiration if my brain is forced to crisscross here and there and start tying the different elements together.

I agree about what's revealed when fanfic writers share pieces of original fic. You can't necessarily generalize from their fannish infatuations.

Wow, I hope you get the chance to write the young Slughorn fic. It sounds fabulous and complex, and I easily can imagine this being part of Horace's personal history. Although "guinea pig" is a creepy thought.

I hope your arm improves, especially since you've already had to endure surgery and recovery. :(
ext_7739: (Default)

From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_hannelore/


I like your thoughts about original fiction! I think getting my brain kick-started on something wholly new can be difficult.

The story of MacIndoe's guinea pigs is really a fascinating one. I've only written little scenes of that fic. I think originally I was going to go for Slughorn/Harry, but now it appeals to me more as a gen fic. I did want this to be a story that Slughorn is telling to him, though, many many years later.

Thanks, the pain comes and goes in terms of how bad it is, but it's really frustrating. :(

From: (Anonymous)


See, now this I really want to read. :) Just sayin'.

From: (Anonymous)


(eh, this is Enname ... apparently unable to login for some reason)
delphipsmith: (classic quill)

From: [personal profile] delphipsmith


( Cut for those who have no interest in original fic )
I'm sorry, is there such a person lol?!

besides the fact that he was pretty sure no girl would ever have been so stupid.
Ha, so true :)
Edited Date: 2015-06-11 02:41 am (UTC)

From: [identity profile] perverse-idyll.livejournal.com


I sometimes get the impression that fandom has a rather large number of people who come here to escape original fiction.

Actually, I admit I'm not that interested in original fic in a fannish context myself unless it's by authors I already love.

To be fair, girls are perfectly capable of stupidity, but perhaps not in this particular respect. I can testify that if I happened to see an unguarded climbing harness clipped to a rigging, my first thought would not be to put it on and go over the side of a cliff. And then proceed to get lost in a cave.

From: [identity profile] perverse-idyll.livejournal.com


Thank you, m'dear!

What's it about? Still trying to figure that one out. I have a tendency, in fanfic and original fic alike, to start with characters and a few random ideas and then prowl around and around them seeking out connections and fruitful entanglements that might eventually, if I'm lucky, converge into a plot.

I had my trio from the start - Xavier Emmanuel Goldberg Alegria, Jules Capistrano, and Sara Stribling. I knew I wanted caves in the desert as part of the setting (I was obsessed with Lechuguilla cave at the time - I have another story, a second-world fantasy, that deals with caves and salt mines based on Wieliczka, so caves clearly have some hold on my imagination). For some reason, Manny's past as a child who spoke in tongues and then lost his faith and now gets migraines in his twenties seemed appropriate as a source of what drives him to explore the depths of the earth. Sara loves clocks and sundials and timepieces of all sorts, and has a passion for the desert; she posts her photos of her solitary wanderings online. Jules is the youngest, an unreliable, elusive fool/trickster figure, both talented and self-destructive. At this point, I'm fairly sure I've got a threesome, not a triangle, on my hands.

A couple of months ago, I took it into my head to try re-conceiving this story as a possible YA novel, which led to a mental gear shift. I needed a threat or antagonist, something to propel the plot, something the protagonists could pit themselves against. So I came up with the Others (a placeholder nickname, because what they are is unclear to me), bodiless entities that originate (perhaps) in the cave and inhabit humans in a symbiotic fashion. I've been toying with plot shenanigans having to do with the ambiguous nature of the Others for a few weeks. At Crone Manor, when I sat frowning at my notebook, that's what I was frowning at.

However, after several attempts that left me ready to chuck my notebook in the nearest incinerator, I realized I don't want to age down my characters, I'm not interested in writing about teenagers, and I'm very bad at simplifying my sentence structure and general writing style for the YA market. So now I'm saddled with this idea about the Others, which has a clichéd quality to it - the amorphous supernatural threat that triggers mysterious powers in the protagonists. For that to work in an adult novel, all sorts of real-world coloring - Manny's nostalgia for his days of channeling God, Jules's issues with being gay and his volatile crush on Manny, Sara's disability and her belief that her father considers her inadequate - have to be deeply entwined with whatever happens around the nonhuman entities. Which are the threads I haven't figured out yet. Which I may never figure out.

Oh dear, sorry for blathering on at you! I've just been fussing and fiddling with my notes, wrestling with the Others and their motives, and your question popped open a Pandora's box. Because frankly, without the Others, I don't have a plot. So I may set this story aside yet again and wait for the passage of time to give me some perspective.

So, um, there you have it. Aren't you sorry you asked? ;)

From: [identity profile] cranky--crocus.livejournal.com


I am not the least bit sorry I asked! Now I only wish I had asked at Coven Manor--I was tempted--because it would have been a joy to hear all that by the pool, too.

I can also totally understand the switch to YA and then back again. I've been tempted to do that for a few of my stories too. Then, I think part of my problem is how much I've come to like writing smut... [Scratches head.] Now there's something I never expected.

I hope to hear more about this story in the future and I wish you every luck with it! Totally the sort of story I would want to read. Loved to hear the process of your getting to where you are in the story; it's always fascinating to see how stories come to different people in different ways.

From: [identity profile] auctasinistra.livejournal.com

Writerly minutia ahoy


I must say, you can get a lot of mileage out of compound, comma-spliced sentences.

Idly browsing and this struck me because I use the comma splice (quite deliberately, of course) a lot, and at least in my own reading of my own stuff, it's effective. I've realized this is because I interpret the comma splice as a kind of unexpected, stumbling pause, the kind that wakes you out of your mindless walking and makes you suddenly start paying attention again, if only for a second or two.

At least that's how I view it.
.

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