April 17th, 2008
|07:53 pm - My writing (and yours) meme|
I've seen several people doing this meme, now. My turn!
Part 1: Quote a bit of my fic at me? Find that one fic of mine that you really like, and find a sentence or a paragraph that presses your prose-buttons in the right way, and comment here with it? Don't care how long or short.
Part 2: If you're a writer, quote a bit of YOUR best writing at me. Find a sentence or paragraph you're particularly proud of, and comment here with it.
Current Mood: okay
Two for one, both from "Day Has Gone Down":
"Megan, I'm so sorry. And I am extremely glad you're safe." Larry's hug was tight and warm and exactly what she needed.
Megan returned it fiercely, knotting her fists in the back of his jacket. "Please." The words spilled out, surprising her, muffled against his hair. "Please, be real. Tell me I didn't imagine you the way I imagined Colby had my back all this time. Please."
What do you do when day has gone down into darkness?"
The silence this time went on for so long that Megan expected no answer. The wind brushed past, tickling her face with strands of hair. Her back was beginning to ache. Larry's must be more painful, supporting her as he was.
"Look up," Larry said.
Megan blinked. "What?"
"That's what you do in the dark." He lifted his free hand, as though introducing her to the heavens. "Look up. In the darkness, you can finally see the stars clearly."
Because MEGAN! *hugs her* And only Larry could pull of a platitude like that and have it be so, so much more than a platitude.
And from my own...hm, let's see. For some reason, I really liked this little seque. I guess it's the fact that I got be funny while at the same time accomplishing a required plot point, i.e. having Jonas realize that Vala is from the SGC:
"Good thing, too, because Daniel sounded like he'd already built up a pretty long lecture about not touching things off-world, which is, if you ask me, a crashing case of the pot calling the kettle black."
It is Doctor Jackson's name coupled with the Earth turn of speech about pots and kettles that finally gets all the way past the headache and floods Jonas with relief. He stands and then quickly sits down again, head swimming. "You're from Earth."
"Not originally, but I'm told you never let that stop you."
Aw, I'm glad you liked the Megan bits. That desperate line of hers, the "please tell me," was one of those moments when the character just blurted something unexpected in my head, and I was like, "Whoa, Megan. Ow."
And I liked that bit in your Vala & Jonas fic--her voice is hard to get right, and the "crashing case of the pot calling the kettle black" is one of the few times I've seen people just nail it.
Sometimes Daniel thinks that the first translation team got closer to the essence of the word. Chaapa’ai is an awfully poetic term for something as essentially practical as the mechanism for ‘Gate travel. But it suits the artifact, with its circle of wavering light like a slice of ocean between him and the stars. Door to the heavens might be a happy medium. In that disc, the blur of our world fades into unknown silence, as the ripples of quantum mechanics spiral down an endless avenue of escape. Infinite light promises an infinite lightening, he caught himself thinking once.
As for me, I've done this before, but again I'll try to find something different to what I've already quoted elsewhere.
Then he looked up.
From horizon to horizon, the sky was boiling, a roiling mass of clouds stirred by the hand of a giant. But these were no white, puffy, cotton wool clouds: they were dirty grey, like sheep that had been dragged through the mud. Whenever a gap threatened to open in the cloudscape, lightning leaped from cloud to cloud, and it was solid once more. An eternal storm, that never rains.
Jim looked over at the horizon, and saw the jagged edges of mountains in the distance, thrusting up in parallel lines like volcanic plugs. Then his eyes adjusted, and he realized that they weren't mountains. They were much closer than that. They were ruins. Buildings. Scorched black by some devastation, profiled like a mountain range because not one of them, not one, retained its rectangular silhouette. They were all broken.
"Sweet Jesus," he whispered. It was real. It was all real.
Ah, Daniel and his language geekery. I loved writing that fic.
And I just recently re-read "Verity," and remembered how much I love it--one of the best crossovers I've read, and the writing is all like the bit you quoted. That's a very hard-hitting moment, but it's all that experiential, that intense. :-)