As far as name connection goes, should I keep my fan fiction work separate from my original work? That is, should I not be mentioning Ghosts in the Machine/connecting it with stories that will be connected with my name, because it’s a fanfic?
One thing new I tried to do to get myself into writing my stories after months and months of inactivity over my first semester of college was to jump at random between stories. So today I wrote a lot of Queen of Hearts, a little Unidentified, and then some Orientation Deception.
I feel accomplished, but in sort of a crazy way. I think that my body thinks that my sudden writing spurt won’t last forever and it’s making me make the most of it. But I think I should make writing a habit, not a chance event. And definitely not a crazy habit, ha ha ha.
But that’s enough for now…I don’t really know what to do for the rest of the night. I think when I get back to school I’ll upload sketches and stuff, and maybe some preview chapters for the non-fanfics.
Ghosts in the Machine: 84 pages, Chapter 8/33 (fanfiction)
The Queen of Hearts: 7 pages, Book 1, Scene 2
The Orientation Deception: 3 pages, Book 1, Chapter 1
Courage: 17 pages, Chapter 1
Unidentified: 1 pages, Book 1, Prologue
I jump around between stories a lot. :P
I’m going to have to think hard about how to make a mugging scene not seem silly. That, and I can’t concentrate right now because I’m anxious for my new laptop to come today. x33
EDIT: Not five seconds after I finished this post it arrived. WOOO
And this was my next attempt at a fanfic. It was part sequel to The Wilson Incident, part magnum opus, part revolution, as it was a story spanning sections (there was no crossover section back then), part later marvel at how I managed to write so much (even if, taken together, it’s all shorter than Return to the Past). It’s also the most popular story I’ve ever written (it got 446 reviews total). Seven books were planned, and six and three-quarters were completed.
Here’s the first book. It has the theft of ideas from Doctor Who, The Phantom Tollbooth, and one of the Tom and Jerry movies, an attempt at drama, and chapters that switch to first-person POV.
Universal Roadtrip, Book 1 - The Journey Begins
Original Summary: Book Complete. Danny’s dad calls a two week trip to Calcutta…to get some milk. Danny gets to stay home, but before he goes, Jazz gives him some strange instructions. Little does he know that he’s in for the ride of his life… Bk 1 of the URtrip series.
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,955
Rating: K+
I’ve revised this story a lot over the years, and it exists in a lot of forms, but it’s really most complete in this form. The Art+Writing Awards currently holds the rights to all but the ending.
Ending below the cut.
Once upon a time, a young Danny Phantom fan decided she wanted to be like the cool kids and write fanfic. This was the result, taken from a Fanfiction.net account I’ve largely disowned, but am now acknowledging for the sake of gathering my writing from wherever it has spread. This includes my fanfiction, of which I will be posting one story here each day, in order of final chapter published, until I run out of it.
So, yes, this is the first full story I ever completed. It involves geeky, vengeful ghosts, a melodramatic interpretation of Sam’s then-missing parents, and the horrible failure of the justice system. I don’t think I’ve read it since I finished it. Enjoy.
Original Summary: COMPLETED! My first fic. A ghost that was a former sixth grade classmate of Danny’s comes back for revenge. When he attacks, a strange girl ghost comes and saves them. Sam begins acting very strangely after this… Little bit of DxS. R&R please!
Chapters: 19
Word Count: 9,957
Rated: K+
Talmund didn’t deserve this. He was and had always been a man of habit, a slave to fashion but never a slave to trend. As cute as a bowtie might have been, he found the rush to strip them from the bodies of American Apparel models fleeting and futile. No frenzies had the final word on a good, long tie, and if he ever had to leave it behind it would be in gratitude as he joined the world in its shift to the next permanence.
His small, dim bridal boutique was his pride and joy, nurtured for twenty years in lieu of children, and it reflected these sensibilities. He only ever stocked the traditional and the simple, sure sales that never took risks. But there it was, right in the window. Short skirt, long sleeves, more feathers and sequins and bells and whistles than should lawfully fit on a dress. It was raging popular last year, but now was only an eyesore, the whitest of white elephants.
And all this time his sales had never changed. It was a mistake order, or a mistake at the warehouse - he couldn’t recall, his memory was failing already. After each bride left, giving the dress a glare (they always did), he would give it a glance, a thought, from his kiosk nearby. The thought never changed – Talmund was, you recall, a man of habit – but it always intrigued him. For him, one year blended into the next, half-present and half-forgotten, never again fully understood. For all the lines around his eyes, he would never age. But 2010’s love was not 2011’s love, and the dress no one would ever wear was a love that no one would ever feel again, a love out of place anywhere else.
I don’t remember much before my senses came back. One minute I thought nothing and the next I thought, purple.
There was lots of purple, a whole face full of it. There was purple in my eyes, warm purple against my face, purple that stank of vodka up my nose, and a big wad of silky purple stuck in my mouth. I didn’t spit her shirt hem out right then, as I hadn’t quite figured out what it was. Instead I lay still, mashing the fabric against my tongue, trying to figure out why it was there, until I guess I lost interest and it just sat there in my mouth.
