Writing From the Inside

Title: Tree

Author: Sylvia Bond

Genre/Rating: Gen/PG

Word Count: 11,210

Fandom: Dark Shadows

Verse: Gina Lee (# 2)

Summary: Willie’s doing his best at the Old House, but he accidentally cuts down the tree that Josette planted many, many years ago. Barnabas, of course, punishes him, and then demands that he get rid of the wood. Willie, for some reason, decides that it would be a good idea to give the wood to the widow, Gina Lee Logan, as well as Sam Evans, to keep them warm through the winter.

A/N: It was Nik who said she wanted a development of a snippet of a scene from another story, where Willie references the time Barn locked him in the cellar, in the dark. She wanted to know why Barn would do that. Well, cutting down that damned tree is why, of course!

***

Willie sat in front of the kitchen fireplace, his chair pulled up close and his bare feet toasting on the flagstones laid along the hearth. The sun was just going down and a damp fog was setting in, and he’d been working outside in the weather for three days. Chilled to the very core of his muscles, the tree he’d just finished chopping and splitting and stacking gave off a bright, hot light. Moreso than the ordinary kindling he ordered from the local lumberyard. And the wood had been so hard, he’d had to sharpen the axe every hour or so on an old whetstone he’d found in the basement. He was worn through.

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Title: Deep Water

Author: N.J. Nidiffer

Genre/Rating: Gen/PG

Word Count: 3,354

Fandom: Dark Shadows

Verse: Gina Lee (# 1)

Summary: Willie picks up a local village woman and her kids after their car breaks down in a storm. And, of course, seeing as this is a story about Willie, bad things happen after that.

A/N: My friend Nik wrote this story, and I thought it was a very good story, so much so that I was inspired to write a sequel of sorts, called Tree, where more bad things happen.

 ***

Willie spotted them on the coastal highway, trudging through the slush on the side of the road nearly two miles outside of town. He drove past, and for a moment his foot tightened on the gas. He had somewhere else he had to be.

But. . . .

Ah, hell.

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This is a sad followup to the other post by a similar name, in which I talk about two great fanfic writers that I know who have completely internalized the art of the simile. Sadly, one of them has just passed away. Her name was Nik. She had a heart attack on the 2nd of December, and went into a coma. Diagnosis was never good, she was brain dead from lack of oxygen, but they kept her on life support until they pulled the plug on the 9th. She breathed on her own for a bit, they moved her into hospice, and then on the 13th, she finally passed away.

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I decided recently to post some of my zine stories that I wrote when I was deeply, deeply into Dark Shadows. I wrote many stories, all of them to do with the character of Willie Loomis, who I found (and find) to be fascinating. He was the servant of the vampire Barnabas Collins, and while there’s a good many people out there who think Barn is the hero and the good guy, I thought Willie was the best. He had the heart of a lion and wasn’t afraid to step up to Barnabas and tell him he was an idiot. So, to start with, here are two links to my LJ where the following stories are posted:

Title: Lilacs in Bloom
Author: Sylvia Bond
Genre/Rating: Het/PG-17
Verse: Lilacs Verse
Pairing: Willie/Victoria
Word Count: 10,257
Summary: On a fine spring day, Willie takes time out of his busy day to tend to a lilac tree. By chance, he is able to give the fresh petals to Victoria Winters who is, at the time, being vigorously courted by Willie’s boss, Barnabas Collins. Barn finds out and the bad things happen. The sequel is Stopping by Woods.
A/N: I once thought that Willie and Maggie were the OTP in Dark Shadows fandom. That was, until I wrote this story.

and

Title: Stopping by Woods
Author: Sylvia Bond
Genre/Rating: Het/PG-17
Pairing: Willie/Victoria
Verse: Lilacs
Word Count: 27,326
Summary: In this sequel to Lilacs in Bloom, Victoria contemplates Barnabas’ courtship of her and is shocked when he tells her that Willie is carrying a torch for her. He warns her to be careful, at which point she becomes rather more aware of Willie than she should. And then bad things happen.
A/N: It is my secret dream that one day Willie and Victoria will run off together, leaving Collinwood far, far behind them.

You can read my review of the Supernatural episode “Simon Said” at pinkraygun.com. Thank you!

An excerpt:

“The last of the visions comes during the car right at night. I envy Andy in this scene as Dean drives along; I like to imagine what must it be like to be able to hang out in the back seat of the Impala like that. Or to lean forward over the back seat like that, close enough to see the lights on the dash and know exactly how FAST Dean is going. To dither away like you’re one of the gang, and have that exciting feeling that maybe you’ve found some new, cool friends to play with. Well, the fun doesn’t last long and as the vision is upon Sam, Dean stops the car so fast it’s a wonder all of them didn’t go through the windshield. Plus, he sprints around that car like he’s in some psycho version of car musical chairs. It’s also very sweet to watch how Sam turns to Dean immediately, for comfort and for something to hold onto. Someone who understands. For Sam, Dean is the ultimate home base.”

Can’t Stop Talking

Frustrated

Cutting a handsome line

Catching a redwood tree

Say WHAT?

You’re my home

The No Stairway Anthology has just posted its first issue, and there are many, many fine stories to read. I’m pleased to say that “Out of Harm’s Way” is one of them. The basic premise of the anthology is as follows:

“The No Stairway Anthology is a collection of fiction, posted in digests of ten stories, presented in full by pre-posted publishing dates. The goal of the Anthology is to showcase fan works that are considered solid, appealing, original in theme or execution, re-readable, literary, and well executed. We accept Gen, Het, Slash and RPF/RPS works of between 1,000 and 10,000 words. Works previously published online or in ‘Zines are welcome, as are new works.”

Here’s the link:

 http://nostairway.org 

Click on “Current Issue.” 

Enjoy!

Last Outpost of All That Is by eight_horizon.

Slash.

This is the comment I made to the author, straight up:

I don’t like end of the world fic either because it makes me sad too. Amalthia, though, I trust her like crazy, and she assured me that this was fantastic. And it was, so very very much so. I read the whole dang thing in one sitting, because it was that good. Amalthia had warned me so I was ready. As I ever could be, considering.

First, your writing is so good, you capture the characters, Sam is Sam and Dean is Dean. Which, sometimes is much harder than it might at first seem.

Second, they don’t rush into sex. Sex becomes a part of who they are together, but it’s not the only thing that defines them, and you do that beautifully here.

Third, I think you got it right. I could tell you’d thought it through, and didn’t rush through thinking about gas stations and frozen pork chops and running water. Even though it boggles my mind to read about, you did a fantastic job, I believed it ALL. You never rushed any of it, it felt careful and real and honest.

And lastly, I was very brave. I read the whole thing and jumped at shadows when the boys jumped, and was glad when they pulled out their guns, or shouted to each other. I about died when Sam fell off the roof. And then I got to this part:

“Sam took up drawing. He’d sketched throughout his life for fun, but with more time dedicated to it, he turned out to be pretty good. The landscape around the house, the beaches of the reservoir, the way the light hit the stairs from the front windows; he captured them easily. Dean thought it was cool until he woke in time one morning to catch Sam sketching him.”

and

“Dean started writing his own music on the guitar. Sam knew it right away, and not only because he didn’t recognize the songs. He felt them in his bones as if he was listening to Dean’s voice murmur in the dark about things he’d usually never dare say.”

It was at this point that I bawled my eyes out, no longer brave. No longer to say, yeah, sure, apocalypitic fic, everything’s okay. Because Christ on a crutch, you….you, hell, I can’t even explain it. I can’t take stuff like this, just can’t. Thank GOD the story was over mostly at that point (except it wasn’t, because thank goodness you didn’t kill them off, they’ll outlive us all, and that’s something good, right?) because my insides felt like they’d been twisted around peices of metal and then that metal got twisted around something else, and just. Just.

You slay me. I don’t think I will EVER and I mean ever read apocalyptic fic again, not even if Amalthia rec’s it to me. Okay, maybe if it’s got Evil!Sam or something, then it’s just a fantasy, cause Sam would never really turn evil and hurt his beloved Dean.

Right? RIGHT?

Hell, I don’t know what to belive anymore. This story was SO good, my head is spinning. Are we done now? Can I crawl into bed and pull the covers up way high and try to think about pink ponies and fat sassy kittens and…something easy. Life Lite. Anything! (Yeah. Job well done. You got to me.)

Shelter Beneath the Mundane by drvsilla.

Slash.

I’ve decided that I quite like amnesia fic, which is what I thought this was. But it turned out to be Dean in hell fic, that is a story where Dean goes to hell and Sam gets him out. There’s not a lot of hot sex here, but there is intelligent storycrafting, whereby Dean suffers through the fires of hell by imagining he’s still got a purpose. And that is, running a little breakfast place for all those people he was unable to save, and who are also in hell. I quite liked the concept, because it was original and it FITS with how Dean sees himself. He’s one of those who does what must be done. He’s very duty bound, and his way of controlling the pain of hellfire is by doing his duty. Lovely.

Excerpt:

Dean began the day’s routine, same as yesterday, same as tomorrow would follow. Coffee first, left to percolate and fill the huge silver urns that lined the back counter; one of them gurgled and he thumped it with the heel of his hand, nodded in satisfaction when it groaned and steadied on. Grill warmed and eggs set next to it for omelets or sunnysides, bacon laid down to pop while it cooked, bread and muffins and rolls in case someone wanted it as a sandwich. Everything else was where it should be – plenty of fruit in the basket next to the register, cinnamon rolls still fresh enough to serve, mints in small tins just because.

The Dangers of Second Guessing by mona1347.

Slash.

There’s no plot, but sometimes you don’t need one, when it gets this hot. The ep Mystery Spot has spawned a huge amount of desperate Sam stories, which only makes sense, seeing as how the whole experience, which really never happened, changed Sam totally. I mean, it had to, right? So, all the stories following this ep have this sense of panic in them, where Sam can’t stand to let Dean out of his sight. Like ever. There have been one or two that were super good, and had a plot, this one didn’t. But that’s okay, because it was hot and yeah, it made sense, if you could see inside Dean’s head, about how freaky it is to have Sam watching him every minute of every day. Plus, Dean’s not totally jiggy with the whole kissing thing, he’s resistant, but you know, with Sam, what Sam wants, resistance is futile.

Plus there’s lines like this one, showing me just how frantic Dean is to stop and go at the same time:

“Yeah, yeah, let me have you.”

“Shut up,” Dean growls in reply, hand grabbing at Sam’s hair and yanking his head back maybe too hard, forcing their eyes to meet. “Shut up, you stupid shit. You know. You know you always had…”

“I do,” Sam pants, nodding and wild-eyed. “I know.”

***

Something about Dean calling Sam a stupid shit in the middle of all this hotness felt real to me. He’s pissed off and wanting it and bossing Sam around all at the same time. It’s a nice little PWP here. I enjoyed myself.

I have this friend. I’ll just call her Nik, though that’s not her real name. She writes fanfic, or at least she used to. Now she just writes for her work, and says that most of the time it’s incredibly boring. I don’t know why she doesn’t write fanfic anymore, she says she just can’t find anything to say. And maybe that’s because while she was writing it, she was so brilliant, she burned herself out. She was the kind of writer I aspired to be, and in fact, we had a kind of synergy going, and she says I inspired her as well, because she would write something and then I would riff off of that, and then she would riff, and the whole thing was so electric and bright, it’s a wonder we didn’t burn ourselves to ash. Read the rest of this entry »