Season of Writing Dangerously:: Weekly Motivational Post: Snippet Share

[dawn_felagund]

On our last motivational post, a lot of people confessed that they are losing steam. I think this is probably to be expected for a few reasons. Firstly is that most people get a strong start right out of the gate, but then this slows down after a while, whether because of flagging inspiration or real-life obligations or a little of both. (Unfortunately, as I've learned, the laundry does not do itself because you are in the middle of a really awesome story.) Secondly is that it is summertime for most of our participants, and I know more than a few of us have been away on holidays or doing other summertime things that take time away from being able to work on creative projects.

We're just about halfway through the Season of Writing Dangerously, though, so we still have a lot of time to make up on lost ground! This week, we are inviting our participants to share a snippet of something they are working on. Hopefully, this will not only help us look at what we've accomplished (versus angsting over what's still left to do) but will also result in lots of squeeful and encouraging comments that can help those of us who need it over the hump at the midpoint.

As always, these weekly posts are yours to do with as you see fit, so whether you want to brag or rant or you need to ask for help with something, please feel free to do so here. I still have something special in mind for the midway point of the Season, but I have family visiting from overseas at present and so have fallen a bit behind in fannish stuff as a result. Watch this space for an announcement in the next couple of days, when I will hopefully have my act together! Also, if you like to make banners and would be free to help out within the next few weeks, please do let me know, and I'll include you on the email to our volunteers about this special post. (If you've volunteered generally, no need to let me know again.)

Best of luck for a productive week! I look forward to seeing everyone's snippets!

Comments

[ladybrooke]

On the bright side, I finished 5 more stories. One of them was the rewrite of the story that I ended up leaving the fandom for awhile over, which was nerve wracking. Then further explorations of various Sindar and Turgon, along with my first Olwë story ever. :D On the downside, I am doubting my abilities because of the fact that I tend to write short stories instead of longer ones. I just can't write stories that are 10,000+ words on a regular basis. I'm better at snippets of life.

I forgot that writing more stories meant more work for my goal of crossposting everything to Ao3. :P

And snippet from my current self-indulgent series (which started yesterday with the Olwë story). This time, the reactions of the Sindar of Doriath to the returning Noldor:

“Why do you not trust us?”

Celeborn looked up at Artanis. “It has nothing to do with trust.”

“Why do you not allow my brothers to be with the king in private than?” She sat down in the chair across from him and leaned forward. “Why act as though we are trying to trick him?”

“Elu is my uncle as well as my king. I love him dearly.” Celeborn stood. “I am concerned for him. You are, by your own admission, related to one of his younger brothers and his two long departed friends, one of who is dead. Do you not see why I would be concerned that he would let you all get away with things due to grief and friendship?”

“We would not try to take advantage of feelings like that.”

“Would you not? I know you are hiding something. I like you, but my loyalty is with my king. I cannot run the risk of giving into feelings and letting my king lose everything.” Celeborn turned when he reached the door. “You still have not told us why you left Valinor, the full account of Finwë’s death, or anything else. We lost both Denethor and my grandfather far too recently. My uncle may be blinded by family love and the fact that you all resemble long lost friends, but I am not. I mourned when your grandfather left us and I will not be put in that position again. Now, good day.”

[minumi-hime.livejournal.com]

This sounds AMAZING!!! I hope to see the finished product by the end of this event. I love stories focusing on the Sindar pov of view. I went all, "WHAT?! Noooo don't stop there!!" When I got to the end of this snippet! xDD Good luck reaching your goals!

[independence1776]

Love the snippet!

As for not being able to consistantly write 10k+ stories: that's normal. They're more work; they take more out of you; and writing shorter slice-of-life stories is nothing to be ashamed of. Many people in fandom never write stories that long, and they're just as widely read.

[zdenka]

(if you saw the earlier of version of this comment, I think it came out not how I meant it. Sorry.)

It's interesting to see Celeborn and Galadriel at an early stage of their relationship, when they still don't trust each other. I'd definitely be curious to read more of that.

[myaru.livejournal.com]

I would love to read more of this. It's a period of time and set of characters I'm curious about, and of course the book doesn't elaborate in the slightest. :p

[rhapsody11.livejournal.com]

Yeah, go Celeborn!! Whoooo! *nudges you to write*

[j-flattermann.livejournal.com]

Very interesting snippet. Love the stern Celeborn.
This will be good.

[independence1776]

My RAFA 'verse story is with my beta. Also, I rewrote the part of the B2MeM story that I hated, and I like it much better now. That story is now in the "put it aside for at least a month before editing" mode.

I don't normally post snippets, but there was a "post the first line of your current fic" meme floating around Tumblr about a week ago, and I posted the first line of the B2MeM fic. So I may as well do it here:

"What was the scariest thing you’ve ever seen?"

[ladybrooke]

I'm glad you like the B2MeM story much better now!

That first line makes me very curious.

[rhapsody11.livejournal.com]

*taps her foot*

Where is the rest??

*is intrigued*

[dawn_felagund]

My goals are coming along. I figure I am just about halfway there ... maybe a little bit more. I have most of my "admin" goals (posting stories to SWG and AO3) finished. I'm about halfway through my five stories ... which might be finished if one of them didn't decide to be a novella. And my conference proposal is due in a week, so that's going to be met because of forces beyond my control, as otherwise I've no doubt that I'd drag that one out till the due date.

I'm glad I decided to do this, though, because it has helped me to prioritize my writing on occasions when I might well prefer to surf the Internet or otherwise waste time! :^P

Here is my snippet (from the wannabe novella). Curufin and Celegorm have arrived recently in Nargothrond and are having their first supper with Finrod. I'm working on this story (and this chapter) now, while trying to simultaneously hang out with my sister and sis-in-law and Mr. Felagund and watch the Ravens' first preseason game! :D

Celegorm handed me a bottle of wine at the door so exceedingly rare that I was almost loathe to take it lest I be the one who drops and breaks it. It must have come in someone's satchel from Himlad and, before that, made a long journey from the warm lands south of the Ered Luin; who knows what favor he—or more likely Curufin—promised to wrest it from the hands of the one who'd valued it enough to carry it halfway across Beleriand. "This is too rich a wine for what I fear is a simple supper!" I protested as both of my cousins embraced me. With the wine cradled in my arms, I could not return the gesture.

"It is not in honor of the supper but in honor of you," said Celegorm in that disarmingly sincere way of his. I had grown so accustomed to sycophancy that the open emotion in his big blue eyes made my face warm with the compliment in a way that it hadn't in a very long time. Celegorm always reminded me of the hounds he kept: incapable of artfulness but able to display a startling range of emotions, all of them seemingly extreme, like the dog who tore the throat out of a beast one moment and then curled across your feet and licked your hand the next.

A smile slid across Curufin's face. "We have been remiss in not coming sooner. It is the least we can do."

[ladybrooke]

Oh, that middle paragraph! I love it. The description of Celegorm being like one of his hounds is just wonderful, especially considering what happens between these three later.

[myaru.livejournal.com]

I've been having writing-avoidance issues. However, I'm trying to follow everyone's advice from last time and writing a little every day to get more familiar with Finrod and his immediate cast. I don't think it's worth sharing, but it's getting easier. So... have a snip of the Elrond fic instead:

--

After fifteen days of unseasonal rain, the emergence of the sun lay heavy on the healing chambers, and sweat trickled down Elrond's cheek to drip from his chin like a tear. He had discarded his robe, rolled the sleeves of his tunic, plaited his hair back tightly, and still sweltered. "I think this is morbid," he said to his brother, grinding poppy seeds in a marble bowl with both hands, "and the elves have it directly from Mandos: mens' souls go beyond the circles of creation."

"And where is that? What's over there?" Elros perched on the other stool, across the table, both legs folded and wedged under him on the seat. While he appeared to suffer from the heat, with tunic stuck to his chest, his hair damp, he ignored it, focusing instead on rifling through the discarded seed pods and breaking each piece into smaller pieces. Fine powder dusted his sleeves. "If the Powers know, they forgot to tell the Elves, and they have paid no mind to Men. Left to their own devices, Men came up with myths, some of them, that are very close to what we were taught. Aren't you interested in how that happened, or why? If, maybe, Eru granted them some form of enlightenment some... mysterious way?"

The elves taught that Eru didn't interfere in the affairs of the world, and Elrond hadn't seen any evidence to contradict that teaching. Morgoth was violent proof to the contrary, a blood-spatter spreading across the page of a book where one least expected it. "I'd like to know, yes, but it doesn't matter, it doesn't even fit the assignment."

"Yes it does." Elros swept his mess into a neat mound and looked, from the way he gazed at Elrond, like he was thinking of blowing it across the table, or causing some other mischief. "Do you think Maedhros has time to care what we write about? I'm positive he won't even read them."

"He might once he discovers your choice of topics." Elrond scraped the powder into a flat-bottomed basin and mixed it with a measure of water. He wasn't fond of the smell, and it was worse in the heat - thick in his nose, coating his throat.

"I asked him about it." His brother went back to breaking pieces of dried poppy pods. Glassware and utensils clinked together when he leaned his weight onto the table. A green bottle glinted in the sun and cast its reflection on his cheek. "Didn't say I would write the thesis on it, of course. 'What do you think?' I said; 'what might happen to our souls after we die?' And he told me he didn't know, and that he couldn't decide which was worse - knowing someone went to Mandos and might never come out, or some undefinable apotheosis at the edge of the long night."

Elrond was sure the room would be less sweltering without his brother in it.

[hhimring]

I like this!
The description is very vivid and the conversation has all sorts of resonances, of course.
I hope we'll see more of it.

So you are writing Elrond and Finrod more or less at the same time?

[samtyr.livejournal.com]

Amme was silent and Atar was angry, which made Maitimo feel scared. Usually he enjoyed the rare carriage rides but today was very different.
Together they walked up the steps to the palace and into one of the big waiting rooms. The room fell silent at their entrance and everyone turned to stare at them and Maitimo felt even more scared.

“Hello, Atar.” Fëanor greeted his father coolly. “We have come to see the new baby if it please you.”

Maitimo wondered at this, for Atar and Amme had had a loud argument when the carriage had arrived.

“We must go,” Amme said. “He has sent his own personal carriage.”

“I have no wish to see that woman,” Atar spat. “Neither her nor her brat – “

“He is your *father* Fëanor.” Amme had said. “To refuse might well – “

“As you wish,” Atar had growled. “Well, let us go then.”

So they had climbed into the carriage.


Now they were being shown to another, smaller room where a woman lay reclining on a couch next to a large elaborate cradle.
Maitimo heard the slight hissing sound Atar made but no one else seemed to have noticed.

Atar and Amme peered into the cradle; Fëanor with a thinly veiled look of contempt on his usually fair face.

Maitimo wished to see too, and stretched as far as he could in order to peek inside. As he did so, he caused the cradle to sway and a tiny whimper issued forth.

Atar snatched him up then; holding him on his hip so he could look inside. To his great disappointment, it was just a baby with dark hair and a face that looked all red and squished. Maitimo was not impressed. He had been hoping to see puppies, or at the very least kittens.

The adults talked in hushed tones now but Maitimo heard his father’s voice clearly ask: “And what is the name?”

Nelyafinwë,” Grandfather replied. “We – I – thought it fitting, don’t you?”

This time it was Maitimo who gasped in shock but Atar had already turned away from the sight of the cradle and gave Maitimo a warning squeeze.

“Indeed it is,” Fëanor replied with a flat tone.

Maitimo felt a growing sense of outrage. That was his name! How dare Grandfather use it for someone else? He squirmed to be let down.
But Atar used his sudden wriggling to lead him over to a nearby window (sliding door?) where Atar opened it and walked with him out on the balcony. Together they looked at the Two Trees.

“Not a word, Nelya.” Atar whispered fiercely to him. “Can you promise me? Not a word until we get back home.”

“Yes Atar.” Maitimo gave his father a quick nod before schooling his face into what he hoped was a smile.

“Good boy,” Atar whispered to him again and giving him a quick pat on the back.

Maitimo straightened up with pride and his new smile looked far more genuine.

[hhimring]

Whew! More competitive naming?! I guess the name was altered later?
Is that new baby Fingolfin or Finarfin?

[oloriel.livejournal.com]

A snippet! Hah! The story I'm working on ATM is secret in all its parts, but I'm so stuck on the current chapter of TTS that I may as well share a snippet of the only bit that's readable so far. >_> Aredhel and Fingon in the aftermath of the last chapter. I have no clue how to get them to the end of the chapter - that is, I technically know what should happen, but it's all so booooooooring. (Maybe it's the weather. Hard to write wintery scenes just now...)
Oh well. Stop whining, start snippet-sharing!

"So... what was it like?"

Findekáno looked up from the bowstring he was waxing. Irissë had paused in her work, flexing her aching fingers and looking at him with a strange facial expression, half stern and half curious. It had not been easy for Findekáno to return to his despondent people, and harder to be unable to share with anyone about his impressions and the mental turmoil that the Fëanorian feast had left in his mind. Even now that Irissë finally signalled some interest in hearing about it, Findekáno was uncertain what to say.
After some deliberation he opted for, "It was all right for what it was."
A sneer distorted Irissë's beautiful face. "You mean, a celebration of themselves?"
"Mostly, yes." But that was not entirely fair, Findekáno thought. "Well, to be honest, they also celebrated me."
Irissë snorted. "Oh, did they?" She gave him a sly look. "Did you enjoy it?"
Findekáno was tempted to hide from her probing gaze, but with some effort managed to meet her eyes. "Yes," he admitted. "A little."

[moetushie]

Oooh, color me intrigued. I love The Tempered Steel, it's one of the few WIPs I follow. :)

[moetushie]

I've been working on my Sultry in September assignment mostly, which I can't share here, but here's a bit from RttF, which I've put under the cut.




They were walking through the Weaver’s Quarter when a woman in an embroidered white cap, indicating her job as a seamstress, stopped Maitimo and started to exclaim over him. Even with the hood he wore over his distinctive hair did not spare him.

“Why!” She said, her eyes rounded, her hand on his arm. “You look the image of Prince Neylafinwë!” Then considering the matter further, she said, “Except he is a little taller and much better looking.”

“Thank you,” Maitimo said gravely. “I’ve heard that before.”

She gave his hand a comforting pat and drifted away to group of similarly dressed people, who all turned their attention to the two princes.

“Come on, before they figure it out,” Findekáno said quickly and they ducked into a shop until the danger passed.

[zdenka]

That made me laugh. :)

[zdenka]

From a conversation where Idril and Maeglin talk past each other:

"Enough, Maeglin. You are jealous, and that makes you ungenerous.”


Maeglin stiffened. “Jealous?” he demanded harshly. “What do you mean?”

“You fear perhaps that Tuor will supplant you in my father’s favor.” Maeglin looked away. “But love has room for many,” Idril continued gently. “My father loved your mother well, I know. He will not cease to show you kindness without a strong cause.”

“Perhaps you think so,” Maeglin returned with quiet urgency. “That I am ungenerous and speak from hatred in my heart. But I am fearful for you, cousin. I know how quickly what we hold dear may slip away from us, in a manner unthought-of. I know how love may become choked with bitterness. I would use my sorrow to protect your happiness.”

Idril felt pity, as always when she considered her cousin’s loss and his strange upbringing. “I have lost my mother too,” she said. “But I have found comfort unlooked-for, as the sorrow was. And hear this: no sorrow will ever come to me through Tuor’s inconstancy.”

[hhimring]

Even if they talk past each other--it's good to see Maeglin at least trying to explain himself to her rather than just brooding in the background.

[burning-night.livejournal.com]

Unfortunately I have no snippets to post since all I'm working on is SiS, but I come in hope that maybe someone can once and for all settle this for me:

The shortening of Telperinquar. I've seen it done as both Telpe and Tyelpe, and probably others, so my question is; what is the right way? Is there a universally correct way, or is it author interpretation?

And while we're on the subject of names, how does Fëalómë work as a name?

[(Anonymous)]

According to my Elvish dictionary, at least, the name exists as Telperinquar/Telpinquar, (shortened to Telpe, I suppose, although it’s not explicitly given there) or Tyelperinquar/Tyelpinquar (shortened to Tyelpe), the latter of which are given as the “archaic or poetic” forms, whatever that means. Also, it states that the original Quenya form of the word “silver” would be “tyelpe”, like in the “archaic” names, but that the Telerin (!) form “telpe” was used more often, because even the Noldor appreciated the skills of the Telerin silver smiths.
Which I think is rather interesting, but I’m not sure if it helps you any… Anyway, I hope it does somewhat :)
Oh, and I like the name.

- Loke

[the-wavesinger.livejournal.com]

Snippets are, unfortunately, unavailable, because everything I'm done with is with my beta and no-one wants read snippets of reviews...

But I need help! My beta doesn't like reading R rated stories, and my current project (a legacy of this year's B2MeM) has soft (or maybe not so soft) R. Can someone please beta for me? It's a oneshot set at the beginning of the Second Age, and it's extremely short, (the pairing is Elros/OFC) so not many problems there. Thank you!

[dawn_felagund]

I can beta, if you still need someone.

[hhimring]

Snippet: not sure how interesting this one is (it's the only I have at the moment--the rest is either already posted or still unwritten):

He remembers Daeron and how everyone seemed to be determined that they should be rivals before they had even met. The Sindar pointedly praised Daeron to the skies; the Noldor reacted with undisguised, although largely unexpressed scepticism. Whatever their attitude to Teleri and to the Sons of Feanor more generally, even the followers of the House of Finarfin seemed to expect Maglor to defend the honour of the Amanyar against this Sinda who had never seen the Light of the Trees. When they finally encountered each other at the Mereth Aderthad, Maglor eyed Daeron warily and found the Sinda cautiously eyeing him back.

[oloriel.livejournal.com]

Extremely interesting, as far as I'm concerned. Can't wait to see their 'competition' or whatever else happens next! :D

[independence1776]

Knowing what's coming, that sent shivers down my spine!

ETA: Okay… LJ, quit misbehaving. This was supposed to go with Dawn's snippet. Sorry, everyone.

[dawn_felagund]

But it kinda works for SoWD generally, too! :D

[rhapsody11.livejournal.com]

I am not meeting any of my goals *sighs* RL is mostly in the way here. No, I am not giving up, but something to show for would be nice. SinS remains my project for now and well, can't share a snippet.

I would also be editing nanowrimo novels as a goal as well, well I know people would like to see my story Star Wanderer getting updates, so here is a snippet from that instead :) I probably should send some stuff off to my beta.

The evening was cold that day and a new layer of snow covered the early spring flowers. Some tried to withstand the pressure of snow piling up upon them now that the wind caused fierce snow drifts. The Fëanorian lantern that his mother insisted on taking along gave enough light to see the path in front of him, despite that he held it firmly in his hand; it was hard to hold on since the wind just seemed to pierce right the fabric of his gloves. This late snow storm, the icily eastern wind on top of that wouldn’t stop him from his mission. This evening he would ask her hand in marriage, and then if all went well and Dirhael consented, he would plan for Gilraen’s introduction to his father and mother. He had faced more dangerous situations and during difficult times pleasant thoughts of future homeliness had kept him afoot still after eleven months later. Arathorn wanted to come home, to her and visions of a warm bath later this evening, a firm yes, the prospect of these houses of ancient lines united and, if it was only possible, to hold his sweet Gilraen in his arms while her eyes shone of love for him. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

[j-flattermann.livejournal.com]

That is just beautiful.

[j-flattermann.livejournal.com]

For all who are in need of a little encouragement and for febobe* especially.

Here's the link to this weeks encourangement doodle: http://j-flattermann.livejournal.com/362786.html (http://j-flattermann.livejournal.com/362786.html)

[rhapsody11.livejournal.com]

I am getting a: 'Access is denied.' *pouts*

[(Anonymous)]

I’m going to pretend I’m not insanely nervous about this… well, here’s my snippet. It’s sort of random since it’s about the only part of my work that doesn’t mainly consist of half-finished sentences and ideas and a lot of question marks. Ah, well.
English is not my native language, so if anything sounds odd or downright wrong language-wise, please tell me so!
Also, I am looking for a beta, too, though there isn’t really much to be betaed yet -.- So if anyone here has any time to spare, that’d be great!

So here it is:

They never notice the bleak figure perched into a doorway just across the street. It stands, unmoving, until the shadows stop spinning and the street lies again silent and empty. Then it slides forth, a grey spectre in the darkness of the night, feet leaving no trace in the snow, cloak and hair unruffled by the biting wind. His hood is drawn in deep, obscuring his face, but now he tilts his head back, and keen eyes, of deep and ancient grey but piercing still, gaze up at the balcony.
All of a sudden, there is a cry from the open balcony door, anguished, frantic, the words whipped away by the howling wind; then a sound as of something heavy hitting the floor, a soft whimper, almost imperceptible, and, eventually, silence.
The stranger still watches, unmoving again, and the silence lingers. Snowflakes sail down ceaselessly, cover what little traces of life, of living beings walking here, there were left in the snow; but none dare touch the silent figure on the street. It lowers its head now, and the grey depths are gone again, their expression unfathomable. And he turns, inclining his head once in what might be a last greeting, or a slight shake of the head, or nothing at all. Then he walks away, and the grey night embraces him, and he is gone.


- Loke

[dawn_felagund]

OMG. Let me be the first to tell you that, if this snippet is any indication, you have nothing to be nervous about at all.

That excerpt is gorgeously written: eloquent and chilling. The mood is pervasive but not overdone. Your use of imagery--the snow falling to cover "what little traces of life" remain is my favorite--is evocative. Nothing sounded odd to me as a native speaker, except that I would likely change "into a doorway" to "in a doorway" in the first sentence (perched implying motionlessness with into implying progression from here to there). Your choose of words is great, both in terms of actual meaning and connotation, and your sentence structure is complex but grammatical. (Now I am sounding like an English teacher, which I am! :)

I am happy to work as a beta, so if you're interested, just drop me an email at DawnFelagund@gmail.com.

Truly, your excerpt is lovely. Thank you for sharing it.

[ysilme]

Eeep, late to the table again... I've been braindead for a few days due to the heatwave (though to my own surprise not during, but afterwards), and have to pick up speed a bit for my goals. One has been reached, at least - of the at least ten planned drabbles for tolkien_weekly, I've written 14, and the rest of my projects is coming along nicely, if slow. One major thing has happened due to the drabbling, which had been lacking prior to that: I've now got a feeling for my characters and the situatoins I want to write in, as well as many others, and my characters sing to me. Add to that I've become more involved in fandom with other endeavours, and all in all I'm quite satisfied with myself.

I can't really offer a snippet yet, just my latest tolkien_weekly drabble not yet posted together with the others:

Title: Students
Book/Source: Silm (loosely)


Sitting side by side, so close they nearly touched, two heads bowed over their assignments.

One small hand was gripping a piece of chalk, drawing on a grey slate, frowning in concentration. Awkward letters were forming, one by one.

“There, how is that?”

The other looked up, scrutinizing the offered result.
“Much better, Elros. But the “rómen” and “alda” are still wobbly.”

The chalk was thrown on the table with a huff.
“Valar, I'll never learn that! It's much too difficult!”

Elrond smiled. “No, it's not. You just have to practice, like I have to practice calculation.”