The 35th Precinct

One thousand and twenty-six words today, and here they are:


( Bones and Blighted Roses, Part IV )

This is a scene that wasn't so much cut as curtailed. It wanted to stretch like taffy, become a story unto itself, and though I love some of the imagery, it had to be nipped in the bud.


( He'd come home still reeking of cordite and blood in spite of three showers at the precinct, and locked himself in their bedroom )

I was going to pontificate on the news that World Wide Pants, David Letterman's production company, has negotiated an independent deal with the WGA, but I'm lazy, and besides, bad weather is closing in. Instead, I give you the scrapped beginning of Et Tu Part VI:

( It's All Wrong, The Fact That He's Sitting Here )

Here is an excerpt from Et Tu Part II. It's off in a manner I can't yet define, but I don't want to delete it until I understand the problem. It might be that present tense narration is simply more difficult to sustain over the long term, or it might be that the POV is wrong. If that's so, I'll need to scrub the entire chapter. If I do, I'll post all 3,000 words here to be preserved in the amber of the Internet.


( Maybe, Maybe Not )

Here is a deleted excerpt from my latest cracknum opus. I may cannibalize it for parts later, but the tone was hinky.



( All Gone Wrong )


And a final pimp for The Five Stages of Grief-Bargaining

In lieu of my moribund witterings, a fic snippet from an as yet untitled Flack/Stanhope vignette:



( But reality was in black and white, stark and unforgiving... )

Nrgh. I finished my exam and conquered my nasal lurgy just in time for my uterus to stage its monthly escape attempt. I feel gross, smell worse, and am currently plotting how best to smother my napping roomie because he won't stop snoring. I have spent the vast majority of my day ficcing and staring vacuously at Court TV, A&E, and the History Channel.

Speaking of fic, here be a snippet from "Glory Days," the Fic Gueraerobics 2006 prompt fic requested by aureliapriscus. I knew Flack would crack and start speaking to me eventually. I just didn't think he'd be ten years old. Without further ado:

( Don't You Gotta Be Older To Get Boy Privates? )

Alas, it won't be finished before May because I was lazy and overestimated my ability to type faster than a garden slug, but it is well underway.

I managed 512 words of another Flack/Rebecca vignette, and now I need to revise what I've got of TAGD V. I don't know why, but I'd always thought Danny's brother was younger, and I'd written an entire segment wherein Danny was left in charge of Louie while Pops took care of "family business" and smacked him in the mouth for whining when Danny lit out for the basketball courts. Well, if Danny is the younger brother-and considerably younger, at that, if instincts are correct-that doesn't work. Based on the flashbacks in "Run Silent, Run Deep," Louie was clearly the alpha Messer, and Danny idolized him.

I also need to weed out 150 words of extraneous mush. Flack and Stanhope might lock lips under mistletoe at the staff Christmas shindig, but I doubt Messer would care, and even if he did or would, it has fuck-all to do with the plot at hand, which is a very crowded and tense waiting room. Just because it's pretty doesn't mean it fits. However, I am loath to throw anything away, even words, so here is the offending passage, preserved for posterity:



( Under the Mistletoe, and Won't You Mind That Corpsicle? )



I'm also incubating an idea for an Alice Longbottom fic. Obviously, my affinity for HP is not entirely dead.

I wrote 1,242 words of Flackfic wherein he breaks the news of his engagement to his parents, but I'm not sure it's viable. It's from the perspective of Flack, Sr. as he watches his wife and son butt heads, and as of now, it's quite disjointed. I like the first three pages, but it's sparse and nondescript in terms of character development because I don't want to impart to the unreliable narrator an omniscience he cannot possibly possess as an outside observer. I'm going to work on fleshing it out, but if it doesn't look markedly better by tomorrow, I'll scrap it and rewrite it from Flack's POV, which was what I'd originally intended.

I also pounded out 785 words of Mulderfic. Since I'm working with the very limited knowledge of S1, it is more general on character specifics than I would like, but I'm confident that when finished, it will be able to stand among the astoundingly prolific and prodigious body of Xfic with no shame.

And now, fic sneak peeks:

"Darkness Falls"-X-Files


( Darkness Falls )


"Home Fires Burning"-CSI:NY



( Home Fires Burning )

Today, I stumbled upon Your Tax Dollars at Work, a TV discussion forum, and the subject of cancelled TV shows came up. Aside from the procedurals like CSI and NCIS, I don't watch much TV, but it got me to thinking about the TV shows I loved that were Old Yellered by the execs.

-Haunted: This supernatural show preceded Tru Calling and Ghost Whisperer by several years, but only aired for 6 episodes before disappearing. I assume that since the lead possessed icky manbits as opposed to soft, nurturing girlparts of simmering infection, it was condemned. The writing and music for the show were great, and the second episode, which features a ghost singing Linda Ronstadt's "Long, Long Time" still wakes me up in the middle of the night. Diana Flack from "Going Under" is, in many ways, a twisted homage to the episode. Interestingly, Eddie Cahill was scheduled to appear in episodes 7 and 8, but they never made it to air.

-Friday the 13th: The Series: Laugh all you want, but I loved this show. It had nothing to do with the horror movie franchise. It dealt with Mickey, who inherits an antique store from her late uncle. The curios are all cursed, alas, and Mickey and her buddy, Ryan, must retrieve and destroy them all. Hokey, yeah, but the UST between Mickey and Ryan was thick.

-Glory Days: I never saw this because TV was at a premium in the dorm common room, and it only lived 9 episodes before going toes-up despite rabid fans and some critical acclaim. It starred Eddie Cahill and Poppy Montgomery. Rumor has it that burnt copies can be had on certain Yahoo groups, but only if you know the password and agree to shave a yak's scrotum with your teeth.

And now, a snippet from September When It Comes VI:


( It was in that moment, kneeling on the floor in his boxers with the sheets on his lap and snot dangling from his nose, that he hated Greg Sanders.  )