Work in Progress meme
Apr. 27th, 2012 10:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silver_suna few people on the flist have posted this so here goes
Post the first sentence(or 3) from every WIP you're currently working on, even if it's very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs. With any luck, the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!
I'm not going to post the first line of every WIP I've got or I'll probably still be here next Friday, as some of the them have been left for years. So under the cut are the first few sentences of the 10 WIPs that I'd most like to finish.
1.
Sparks from the pine boughs on the fire drift up into the night, their faint glow lost in the cold, prehistoric darkness.
Lost. As lost as they are, Nick thinks as he prods the fire again, stirring up more sparks. After a moment he looks back into the shallow cave behind him to where Stephen is sleeping, huddled amongst the bracken and heather that has served as their bed for past month. In the flickering firelight he looks exhausted, dark stubble accentuating his now too thin face.
Rubbing a hand across the untidy ginger fuzz on his own chin, Nick doubts he looks any better.
2.
On the edge of Cardiff, the Torchwood SUV screeches to a halt by the chain-link fence that runs around the perimeter of an old airfield.
Getting out of the SUV, Jack, Andy and Ruth make their way over to where a hole had been cut in the fence.
“You'd think diplomats would want to arrive somewhere nicer than this, wouldn't you?” Andy says, as he ducks through the hole. “Not that I'm complaining, can't be doing with all that red carpet stuff myself.”
3.
The Three Feathers on Bute Park Road has been a copper’s pub for almost as long as there’s been a police force in Cardiff, yet tonight Andy finds himself drinking alone.
He’s halfway down his first pint, and still undecided if whether he’s come to the pub so he’ll have somebody to talk to, or if he's there so he can avoid talking to well meaning members of his family, when he notices a young man in a suit watching him.
4.
The tropical heat and humidity are appalling, and even Captain Becker's normally neat appearance is suffering; his hair, damp with sweat, clings limply to his forehead as he leads the way deeper into the Carboniferous jungle.
Under normal circumstances Becker would have been against any form of expedition through an anomaly; reports from earlier incursions had indicated that it was a very unwise course of action.
Sometimes though there had been no other viable choice, and today's incident was another such case.
An anomaly had opened in the middle of the track on the Piccadilly line just south of Holborn during the morning rush hour sending the train hurtling not only off its tracks, but three hundred million years into the past.
5.
Manky, Ianto decides, is probably the word that best sums up both how he feels, and on glancing at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, how he looks as well.
His throat feels prickly, and he’s sure that in the morning it’s going to be sore as hell. The fact that the rest of him is aching, including his head which feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton wool, makes him think that the next few days are going to be spent sneezing, coughing and generally feeling awful.
6.
Jack is tired. It’s not a physical tiredness, he rarely feels the need for sleep any more, it’s a mental one, one which seems to seep insidiously into every part of his being, robbing him of his usual optimism.
Suzie’s deceptions, Ianto’s betrayal, Estelle’s death and the resent near massacre of his team by cannibals have all taken their toll, and tonight Jack wants nothing more than to forget. Only he can’t, not even for a moment, because if he does he might miss what could be his only chance to find out what he'd become.
7.
The SUV speeds down the narrow country roads of the Brecon Beacons National Park, it's headlights the only illumination in the dark and rain soaked night.
“Gwen, we're heading back,” Jack says, pressing a finger to his ear piece. “It was a false alarm.”
The SUV hits a pothole in the road and shakes, the force of it slamming Ianto against the door. He gives Jack an annoyed look, before saying rather irritably, “Is it possible that we could have one trip to the countryside that doesn't end with a visit to the nearest A&E department?”
8.
There's the faint promise of snow in the cold, crisp mountain air as dusk draws in. The sun is low and red on the horizon while the clouds above are streaked pink and gold to where they blend into the violets and blues of night.
“It will soon be the new year,” Tosh says looking out of the small, grimy window of the isolated cottage at the barren landscape beyond.
Behind her, sitting on a battered old sofa, working on an antiquated two-way radio, Ianto says, “Let's hope it's a better one than the last.”
9.
The Hub is spotless, all rubbish has been thrown away, any outstanding filing completed, the pterodactyl and weevils have been fed and even the autopsy room has been cleaned.
Ianto has paced the length of Jack’s office more times than he can count. Waiting for a call, waiting for the SUV’s tracking signal to move, waiting for anything that indicates that Jack has managed to locate John Ellis and that he is on his way back to the Hub.
Pacing and drinking coffee until even he cannot face another cup Ianto eventually locks down the Hub for the night and calls a cab, but he can’t go home, not yet, not without knowing what has happened.
10.
“If I were a suspicious person I’d think you’d planned this,” Ianto says as he and Jack walk away from the car.
“Lucky for me you’re not.” Jack sounds cheerful despite the heavy rain that soaks them before they’ve gone more than a few feet.
“No, I’m an intelligent one.” Ianto pulls up the collar of his coat in a futile attempt to keep dry. “So I don’t just think you’ve planned this, I know it.”
There's are lots more WIP where I don't actually have the start of the fic written so can't post the first few sentences. With any luck I'll be able to get all of these done this year.
Post the first sentence(or 3) from every WIP you're currently working on, even if it's very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs. With any luck, the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!
I'm not going to post the first line of every WIP I've got or I'll probably still be here next Friday, as some of the them have been left for years. So under the cut are the first few sentences of the 10 WIPs that I'd most like to finish.
1.
Sparks from the pine boughs on the fire drift up into the night, their faint glow lost in the cold, prehistoric darkness.
Lost. As lost as they are, Nick thinks as he prods the fire again, stirring up more sparks. After a moment he looks back into the shallow cave behind him to where Stephen is sleeping, huddled amongst the bracken and heather that has served as their bed for past month. In the flickering firelight he looks exhausted, dark stubble accentuating his now too thin face.
Rubbing a hand across the untidy ginger fuzz on his own chin, Nick doubts he looks any better.
2.
On the edge of Cardiff, the Torchwood SUV screeches to a halt by the chain-link fence that runs around the perimeter of an old airfield.
Getting out of the SUV, Jack, Andy and Ruth make their way over to where a hole had been cut in the fence.
“You'd think diplomats would want to arrive somewhere nicer than this, wouldn't you?” Andy says, as he ducks through the hole. “Not that I'm complaining, can't be doing with all that red carpet stuff myself.”
3.
The Three Feathers on Bute Park Road has been a copper’s pub for almost as long as there’s been a police force in Cardiff, yet tonight Andy finds himself drinking alone.
He’s halfway down his first pint, and still undecided if whether he’s come to the pub so he’ll have somebody to talk to, or if he's there so he can avoid talking to well meaning members of his family, when he notices a young man in a suit watching him.
4.
The tropical heat and humidity are appalling, and even Captain Becker's normally neat appearance is suffering; his hair, damp with sweat, clings limply to his forehead as he leads the way deeper into the Carboniferous jungle.
Under normal circumstances Becker would have been against any form of expedition through an anomaly; reports from earlier incursions had indicated that it was a very unwise course of action.
Sometimes though there had been no other viable choice, and today's incident was another such case.
An anomaly had opened in the middle of the track on the Piccadilly line just south of Holborn during the morning rush hour sending the train hurtling not only off its tracks, but three hundred million years into the past.
5.
Manky, Ianto decides, is probably the word that best sums up both how he feels, and on glancing at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, how he looks as well.
His throat feels prickly, and he’s sure that in the morning it’s going to be sore as hell. The fact that the rest of him is aching, including his head which feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton wool, makes him think that the next few days are going to be spent sneezing, coughing and generally feeling awful.
6.
Jack is tired. It’s not a physical tiredness, he rarely feels the need for sleep any more, it’s a mental one, one which seems to seep insidiously into every part of his being, robbing him of his usual optimism.
Suzie’s deceptions, Ianto’s betrayal, Estelle’s death and the resent near massacre of his team by cannibals have all taken their toll, and tonight Jack wants nothing more than to forget. Only he can’t, not even for a moment, because if he does he might miss what could be his only chance to find out what he'd become.
7.
The SUV speeds down the narrow country roads of the Brecon Beacons National Park, it's headlights the only illumination in the dark and rain soaked night.
“Gwen, we're heading back,” Jack says, pressing a finger to his ear piece. “It was a false alarm.”
The SUV hits a pothole in the road and shakes, the force of it slamming Ianto against the door. He gives Jack an annoyed look, before saying rather irritably, “Is it possible that we could have one trip to the countryside that doesn't end with a visit to the nearest A&E department?”
8.
There's the faint promise of snow in the cold, crisp mountain air as dusk draws in. The sun is low and red on the horizon while the clouds above are streaked pink and gold to where they blend into the violets and blues of night.
“It will soon be the new year,” Tosh says looking out of the small, grimy window of the isolated cottage at the barren landscape beyond.
Behind her, sitting on a battered old sofa, working on an antiquated two-way radio, Ianto says, “Let's hope it's a better one than the last.”
9.
The Hub is spotless, all rubbish has been thrown away, any outstanding filing completed, the pterodactyl and weevils have been fed and even the autopsy room has been cleaned.
Ianto has paced the length of Jack’s office more times than he can count. Waiting for a call, waiting for the SUV’s tracking signal to move, waiting for anything that indicates that Jack has managed to locate John Ellis and that he is on his way back to the Hub.
Pacing and drinking coffee until even he cannot face another cup Ianto eventually locks down the Hub for the night and calls a cab, but he can’t go home, not yet, not without knowing what has happened.
10.
“If I were a suspicious person I’d think you’d planned this,” Ianto says as he and Jack walk away from the car.
“Lucky for me you’re not.” Jack sounds cheerful despite the heavy rain that soaks them before they’ve gone more than a few feet.
“No, I’m an intelligent one.” Ianto pulls up the collar of his coat in a futile attempt to keep dry. “So I don’t just think you’ve planned this, I know it.”
There's are lots more WIP where I don't actually have the start of the fic written so can't post the first few sentences. With any luck I'll be able to get all of these done this year.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-04-28 07:41 am (UTC)I like Jack being tired too. That sort of thing always goes down well with me.
go to it then and have fun. I'll read them all.
Not sure I want to do this. I only have two WIP because I won't let myself have any more. And since one of them is my original piece then I'm going to be putting much more efforts into that than the fanfic one.And... so pleased, I've nearly got a full finished completed etc first draft. I just need to turn off the internet and get on with it.
cheers
McP
no subject
Date: 2012-04-28 03:22 pm (UTC)The tired Jack one is for an alternative take on the series one episode Greeks Bearing Gifts where it's Jack, rather than Tosh that, Mary goes after. It's one of the fic I've had kicking around half finished for ages, I originally started this one back in '07 or 8.
It's probably going to be June before I start properly on these, mainly because most of May is going to be occupied writing for a Fest and a fic collaboration thing - although either have to be long - only about 1k each.
With any luck June should be a good month for getting Torchwood fic finished as I'm running a fic finish thing over on tw-classic over June.
no subject
Date: 2012-04-29 01:07 am (UTC)Just remembered I do have another unfinished story (it started as a collaboration) a RPF/TW in which JB discovers that TW really does exist and the TV programme is an elaborate way to cover it up. I should really dust it off. Oh and there really is a Jack who looks just like JB, but his accent is Welsh.