Apparently, the difference between time zones works to my advantage, as I seem to be the first again. Not that I'd have done much writing today - the bi-monthly monstrous flat cleaning was scheduled for this morning, but at least I wrote a few bits of Chapter 6.
Oh, and by the way, Chapter 5 has come back from my lovely beta and can be read here (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11209905/5/Terminus), should anyone be interested.
Excerpt from Chapter 6:
Back in Data's quarters Rina watched the android, who was slumped in his chair, his eyes closed, and seemed to be completely dead, with mild dismay.
"You can stop the theatre, Commander," s/he said when Picard and the others had left the room. "Believe it or not but I can actually trell if you're in true shutdown mode or merely pretending. You're clearly pretending now."
That is a lot of progress with all that disruption! It's an intriguing idea that Data might have absorbed some of the programminng of the alien object.
Keen to know what's causing Data's irrational behaviour. Cleaning should be banned; it never goes away! Kudos for getting a little writing done around it.
I'm having an enjoyable morning - writing, drinking coffee, enjoying the sun-filled view of the back yard. The only sound is my computer, humming:) If it warms up enough, I'll open the patio door later!
From the MFU WIP, as Angelique, expecting Solo, gets Kuryakin instead:
The Corvette’s windows were rolled down, a carefree nod to the warm spring day. Angelique had arranged herself on the soft curve of the rear quarter panel and trunk, her hair a golden shimmer in the sun. The breeze caught at the skirt of her dress, lifting it in a soft pouf. Smiling in the delight of the moment, she allowed the little parachute to float down of its own accord before smoothing it into place. When she caught sight of Kuryakin as he emerged from Del Floria’s her amused expression iced over. She recovered quickly, but not quickly enough, with another smile, one which failed to hold any warmth, caught half-way between truth and fiction.
There you are, he thought. A she-wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Another beautiful description! I like the contrast here between the softness of her appearance and the coldness of her smile and Kuryakin's opinion of her.
Beautiful scene setting, I like this so much; Angelique's private moment of playfulness, and the way it switches off when she sees Illya. And he's determined to never be fooled.
I see why you were laughing yesterday when you saw my snippet, great minds and all that :D
I love your description, especially The breeze caught at the skirt of her dress, lifting it in a soft pouf. Smiling in the delight of the moment, she allowed the little parachute to float down of its own accord before smoothing it into place.
I wrote the in-between scene at Baker Street: 392 words pre-editing. An excerpt from sort of in the middle of it ~
***
Grey lifted his head and sprang towards the door, skidding as he made the turn into the hall, meowing at full volume.
“Well,” John said, “we can consult the expert in a minute.”
The meowing stopped. There were footsteps on the stairs. Grey was riding on Sherlock’s shoulder when Sherlock appeared in the doorway.
“Mycroft has him,” he said.
John scowled. “Who?” he asked, the possibilities being manifold.
“Red,” Sherlock replied, eyes sweeping the room.
“He couldn’t resist,” Mrs Hudson said, heading for the kitchen. “I should have known the envelope was just an excuse.”
Sherlock strode to the desk and flipped through the photographs. “Took him long enough,” he said, dropping them back on the table. “Anthea informed me when she texted the name and address that matches this number plate.” He picked up John’s plate and ate the rest of the cake on it.
Grey stretched forward and sniffed at it.
“Why didn’t Mycroft pass on the information when he first saw the CCTV footage?” Sherlock mused.
“He kidnapped the cat,” John said, cutting another slice of cake. “He could have just asked for him.”
Sherlock held out his plate and John slid the piece of cake onto it.
“Of course, kidnapping is more Mycroft’s style,” John added.
I typed up the writing I've done over the past couple of days, and added a little bit more. I'm jumping around all over the timeline (I've tried writing from beginning to end - it simply doesn't work for me!). Here's a snippet:
I rested my arms on the rail of the back platform, leaned out and looked up at the sky. The stars were brightening, dotting the deep blue with points of light. This could have been a million miles from Paris, the depths of the Berkshire countryside, and yet the glory, the romance of the City of Light seemed to fill me.
'E lucevan le stelle...' I began, humming almost under my breath, and found that I didn't know any more of the words. I switched genre. 'Tonight, tonight, the world is wild and bright, with suns and moons all over the place...' But it was no fun on my own. 'Maria, Maria, I've just kissed a girl named Maria...'
'My first kiss,' Emma said, appearing out of nowhere, her face pale in the darkness and the tip of her cigarette glowing red.
200 words today, but no snippet - spent too much of the day editing non-fiction documents to edit a snippet as well. Also, spent some time trying to figure out what fandoms to nominate for fic corner... I always find this step hard, especially as there are too many fandoms to pick from.
I got some fiddly bits done today: trying to fix a continuity error caused by switching scenes around and then rewriting the scenes in which Edward breaks the news to Kate and tries to explain himself to Brigit. All done with a red pen: I'll type things up tomorrow if I get back from Mum and Dad's early enough,
Continuity errors are such a nuisance. I keep ungodly long lists of my characters, their jobs and their family relations but still manage to mess up things.
Saturday is chore day around here so I knew I wouldn't get much writing done. I did manage to sit down late afternoon and do a little editing of last week's words so I can say I didn't slack off completely.
1141 words tonight!!! By far the most I've written in one sitting in a while. It's still a jumbled mess, but I am hoping to share some snippets next week. :)
I seem to have got behind on my reportage, but all I managed yesterday was to read another Chandler. I'm still poking at the little bridging bit, without getting very far.
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on 2015-06-06 11:51 am (UTC)Oh, and by the way, Chapter 5 has come back from my lovely beta and can be read here (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11209905/5/Terminus), should anyone be interested.
Excerpt from Chapter 6:
Back in Data's quarters Rina watched the android, who was slumped in his chair, his eyes closed, and seemed to be completely dead, with mild dismay.
"You can stop the theatre, Commander," s/he said when Picard and the others had left the room. "Believe it or not but I can actually trell if you're in true shutdown mode or merely pretending. You're clearly pretending now."
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on 2015-06-06 07:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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on 2015-06-06 07:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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on 2015-06-06 09:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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on 2015-06-06 10:12 pm (UTC)I admire you for scheduling cleaning and then actually doing it.
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on 2015-06-07 12:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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on 2015-06-08 08:16 pm (UTC)Go Rina! It will be very interesting to see what is going on with Data.
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on 2015-06-06 03:05 pm (UTC)From the MFU WIP, as Angelique, expecting Solo, gets Kuryakin instead:
The Corvette’s windows were rolled down, a carefree nod to the warm spring day. Angelique had arranged herself on the soft curve of the rear quarter panel and trunk, her hair a golden shimmer in the sun. The breeze caught at the skirt of her dress, lifting it in a soft pouf. Smiling in the delight of the moment, she allowed the little parachute to float down of its own accord before smoothing it into place. When she caught sight of Kuryakin as he emerged from Del Floria’s her amused expression iced over. She recovered quickly, but not quickly enough, with another smile, one which failed to hold any warmth, caught half-way between truth and fiction.
There you are, he thought. A she-wolf in sheep’s clothing.
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on 2015-06-06 07:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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on 2015-06-06 07:38 pm (UTC)I remember that pose against the car.
...caught half-way between truth and fiction.
Lovely description.
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on 2015-06-06 09:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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on 2015-06-06 10:31 pm (UTC)Beautiful scene setting, I like this so much; Angelique's private moment of playfulness, and the way it switches off when she sees Illya. And he's determined to never be fooled.
I see why you were laughing yesterday when you saw my snippet, great minds and all that :D
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on 2015-06-07 12:18 pm (UTC)So glad writing is continuing to be enjoyable!
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on 2015-06-07 05:38 pm (UTC)And that's a bad thing? She gets the hotter guy!
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on 2015-06-08 08:19 pm (UTC)Lovely description!
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on 2015-06-06 07:08 pm (UTC)***
Grey lifted his head and sprang towards the door, skidding as he made the turn into the hall, meowing at full volume.
“Well,” John said, “we can consult the expert in a minute.”
The meowing stopped. There were footsteps on the stairs. Grey was riding on Sherlock’s shoulder when Sherlock appeared in the doorway.
“Mycroft has him,” he said.
John scowled. “Who?” he asked, the possibilities being manifold.
“Red,” Sherlock replied, eyes sweeping the room.
“He couldn’t resist,” Mrs Hudson said, heading for the kitchen. “I should have known the envelope was just an excuse.”
Sherlock strode to the desk and flipped through the photographs. “Took him long enough,” he said, dropping them back on the table. “Anthea informed me when she texted the name and address that matches this number plate.” He picked up John’s plate and ate the rest of the cake on it.
Grey stretched forward and sniffed at it.
“Why didn’t Mycroft pass on the information when he first saw the CCTV footage?” Sherlock mused.
“He kidnapped the cat,” John said, cutting another slice of cake. “He could have just asked for him.”
Sherlock held out his plate and John slid the piece of cake onto it.
“Of course, kidnapping is more Mycroft’s style,” John added.
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on 2015-06-06 07:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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on 2015-06-06 07:29 pm (UTC)I rested my arms on the rail of the back platform, leaned out and looked up at the sky. The stars were brightening, dotting the deep blue with points of light. This could have been a million miles from Paris, the depths of the Berkshire countryside, and yet the glory, the romance of the City of Light seemed to fill me.
'E lucevan le stelle...' I began, humming almost under my breath, and found that I didn't know any more of the words. I switched genre. 'Tonight, tonight, the world is wild and bright, with suns and moons all over the place...' But it was no fun on my own. 'Maria, Maria, I've just kissed a girl named Maria...'
'My first kiss,' Emma said, appearing out of nowhere, her face pale in the darkness and the tip of her cigarette glowing red.
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on 2015-06-06 08:04 pm (UTC)There will be shared memories under the stars?
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