meme!

[meretricula]

ganked from aramley. doubt anyone's interested, but hey, might as well.

Pick a paragraph (or any passage less than 500 words) from any story I've written, and comment to this post with that selection. I will then give you a DVD commentary on that snippet: what I was thinking when I wrote it, why I wrote it in the first place, what's going on in the character's heads, why I chose certain words, what this moment means in the context of the rest of the fic, lots of awful puns, and anything else that you'd expect to find on a DVD commentary track.

you can find a list of all my fic here or in my memories. go on, play with me! all of us in the States have the day off tomorrow; you might as well distract me from the sound of my thesis not writing itself.

Comments

[t-lyrical.livejournal.com]

I love, love, love all your stuff, but this is, like, one of my favorite things EVER. I really couldn't pick a single paragraph from that scene, so YOU NEED TO DO A COMMENTARY FOR ALL OF IT.

Leightley's second verse was still soft and self-conscious, but Laurence's pleasure was undiminished: how, he wondered, could he have forgotten music, and how he loved it? He joined Hunt, barely aware of what he was doing, in singing another verse, and paid no notice when Leightley moved back to allow them to sing the whole song through again without her, Hunt's surprisingly rich baritone on the woman's part less jarring that it might have been.

After that, it was only natural to play through the other two songs together, and then a trio which Shadwell laughingly produced, claiming they had long been short a proper tenor and Laurence could not deny them now that they had found him. All in all nearly an hour passed before Laurence came back to himself, at the thoroughly unwelcome awareness that he had just addressed Lieutenant Robbins as Edith.

He could have been at home, for that hour, passing the time after supper with his mother and Edith and their friends. Really it was not such a strange slip to make, and Robbins had hardly been offended; he was not even certain she had noticed. But having realized why he felt so comfortable in the laughing circle around the pianoforte, it was impossible not to follow the realization to other, less pleasant recollections: that he would never see his mother again; that Edith had married Woolvey; that Woolvey was dead. Hunt was beaming at Bell, brighter than the candlelight, and Leightley's grudgingly tolerant expression was belied by the loose clasp of her fingers around Shadwell's wrist; all of Laurence's simple joy in the music was gone, and he was unendurably lonely.

[meretricula.livejournal.com]

oh, wow. I'm still just unbearably relieved that anyone liked that fic, because it was a totally self-indulgent decision to use all the weird canon facts I'd made up for Leightley's crew (Victrix is nicknamed Trixie! Shadwell is nicknamed Shadow, because he is Leightley's shadow (lol terrible pun)! Robbins sews and plays piano! Shadwell likes opera! Leightley used to read Latin to Victrix while she was still in her shell!) and put them in something that gave Laurence a little bit of closure. I'm still not it was the best decision in terms of artistry, because Laurence's isolation is such a key part of his character, but it was a really satisfying thing for me to write.

part of my absurdly extensive personal canon for these characters is that Leightley is not artistic or musical. like, at all. she doesn't get it, she doesn't like it, she doesn't want to. but she loves Shadow and she wants him to be happy, so she puts up with it. then I think I was rereading the very beginning of HMD, where it mentions that Laurence loves opera and was so upset at the realization that he wouldn't have that in his life anymore as an aviator, and I was suddenly hit with this image of him in Australia with Leightley's crew, singing around a piano. I wanted Laurence to fit in more with them. because Robbins and Shadwell are rebels with ~culture~. (also I am ridiculously in love with the idea of Hunt as this tiny mousy guy with no apparent spine who has a gorgeous baritone and a lot more guts than meets the eye.)

I think these paragraphs are a pretty good summation of the two things I was going for throughout the fic, actually. Laurence fits in with Leightley's crew, even though he doesn't recognize it: they're cultured, smart, high-class, and loyal to the point of absurdity. but all Laurence can see is that he's excluded as a perpetual third (or fifth, or seventh) wheel, and he never gets that they (and Tharkay and Granby) keep trying to reach out and bring him in.

Edith is really Laurence's personal tragedy, and I'm glad I thought to include her. She kind of brings him full circle, in a way, along with the music, from the Laurence in the beginning of the series who loves opera and his almost-fiancee to the Laurence now, who loves opera and his dragon and just want someone to love him back.

stylistically, Jesus, you can tell I love semicolons, can't you? I am not ashamed of my love! actually one of the best things about Temeraire fandom is that it's totally within the voice of the writing to use semicolons in both narration and dialogue. grammar geekery!

[aramley.livejournal.com]

I skirted very close to the word limit for this, haha. This is from one of my favourite fics of yours (Rafa/MAndy is a not-so-secret guilty pleasure of mine).

Somehow, he'd thought it would be more satisfying. He was the number two tennis player in the world, the highest ranked British (or Scottish, if you were going to get picky about it, which he was) man in the history of the ranking system, but it didn't feel any different. It should have been different, he thought irritably. He'd earned it, hadn't he, even though nobody would admit it: it was all poor Rafa and poor Rafa's knees, so sad, cry me a fucking river.

He just wanted some acknowledgment, that was all. Which was why he was still lurking in the locker room after his match, waiting for Rafa to get out of the showers. It was petty and childish and he didn't care at all.

"Hey," someone said from behind him, and clapped him on the shoulder. "What are you doing still here?"

"Hi, Novak," Andy said. Novak was smiling at him, but he looked faintly quizzical. "Yeah, you've caught me, I guess. I wanted to talk to Rafa, y'know?"

Novak's expression hardened: it was like a shutter had dropped over his face. Andy had known Novak for a long time, but he'd never seen him look like that, not even when they were facing each other across the net - like he would have been perfectly happy to kill Andy, stuff his body in a locker and leave it there to rot. "Andy, leave Rafa alone," he said flatly.

"What? I'm not gonna, I don't know, call him names or insult his mother or whatever," Andy laughed. "And he's a big boy, you know, I don't think he needs you to protect him from me."

"I mean it, leave him alone," Novak repeated, unamused. Andy stared at him in total disbelief, but before he could make a witty comeback (which would have probably been along the lines of, "what the fuck?") they were interrupted by a cheerful call of, "Hola!" from the other side of the room.

"Hey, Rafa," Andy said. Novak just waved, the murderous look gone from his face like it had never been there. The speed of the transformation was honestly a little scary.

"Oh, Andy," Rafa said as he dropped his towel and started rummaging in his bag for his underwear, completely unembarrassed by his nudity. "I never say you congratulations, for Montreal. You play amazing, no?"

"Thanks," Andy said. He would have done pushups in a hotel lobby wearing nothing but Kim's panties before he'd admit it, but there was a kind of warm squishy feeling in his chest that surfaced whenever Rafa told him he'd played well. "I hope I can keep it up, you know?"

Rafa pulled his shorts on, and grinned at him before yanking a T-shirt over his head. "No so good for me, no? But for sure, good luck. I gonna try and get you soon, no?"

[meretricula.livejournal.com]

oh, Rafa/Mandy. the hatesex would be epic. though to be serious, I really do see an unrequited crush on Mandy's side as plausible - most of the older players and Rafa have their epic crush on Roger, but I don't think Mandy or Nole ever did. I think if they went through an OMGHE'SSOAWESOME phase about another player, it was probably Rafa. and Rafa was probably completely oblivious. (that's why we love him!)

I'm actually quite curious about the dynamic between Nole and Andy, and I was trying to explore that a little bit here. I was very surprised to learn they used to be close friends, because since they've been jockeying back and forth for 3, 4, 2, it seems they don't get along at all. (Mandy made some seriously catty remarks about Nole when 3 and 4 flipped, I remember that.) bronze_ribbons mentioned the coolest idea the other day, you might find it interesting, that she was contemplating an AU where Nole took British citizenship. how bizarre would that have been? Mandy and Nole doubles for Davis Cup! (in my head, Nole would be desperately lonely and miss Serbia like crazy but it's better for his little brothers to have all the opportunities from the LTA so he doesn't complain, he just clings to Ana like a limpet at all the mixed tournaments. and she's pals with Rafa so that's how they really meet properly. I can't help being so obsessed with OTP!)

anyway, I can never really remember why I wrote things, except of course that the Montreal tournament happened and I needed to console myself. so here I spoiled myself with outsider perspective on the relationship, which I really like as a plot device, and also protective!Nole, whom I adore for obvious reasons. I think Nole here has been really worried sick about Rafa for a while, and he's stressed out about maybe having to play Rafa soon if the draw goes according to plan, and so he kind of snaps on Andy. he wouldn't normally be so obvious about it. (I actually feel really bad for Andy in this fic. I didn't when I started writing, but by the time I was finishing up I was like, wow, it really sucks to be him, he has absolutely no idea how to go about expressing his feelings. like, even less idea than the rest of these emotionally stunted idiot boys.)

oh, I do remember why I wrote this, actually! I was listening to a song called "No More Stones to Throw" on my way home from work, which is basically about the futility of war, and the band that sings it is Scottish-Canadian, and I thought, wow this song is perfect for Mandy. just, the idea that he's been working and working and working for this ranking for so long, and then he gets it and he realizes it isn't what he wants at all, and what he wants he can't get, at least in part because he did get the ranking. I write an honestly disturbing number of fics because I think of songs with lyrics that make good titles. that's where We Both Go Down Together and And I Am Standing Still both came from. someday I will get it together enough to write Rafa/Feli porn entitled "como se puede bailar (es un escandolo)". priorities!