Meme

[eve11]

Ah, also, I think I want to start sixathon sign-ups this weekend? Or maybe next week sometime.

In the meantime, a meme about writing, snagged from various folks (nonelvis, lost_spook, doctorpancakes among others):

Give me a number and I'll answer the question (or try to anyway):

1. Which is your favorite of the fics you’ve written for [name of fandom]?
2. Favorite piece overall?
3. Which was the hardest to write, in terms of plot?
4. Which has the most “you” in it, however you’d define that?
5. What is an image/set of images that you’re particularly proud of?
6. Idea that you always wanted to write but could never make work?
7. Least favorite plot point/chapter/moment?
8. Favorite plot point/chapter/moment?
9. Favorite character to write?
10. Favorite line or lines of dialogue that you’ve written
11. If I’m showing off just one of your pieces to someone, which one should it be?
12. What WIPs do you have going now? Are you excited about them?
13. Are there any things that might have happened in any of your stories, but you changed them at the last minute? (So-and-so dies, they don’t actually kiss, main character has long extended ballet-based dream sequence, etc.)
14. Would you want to write canon for any of your fandoms (like be hired by showrunner to do an episode)? Which one?
15. Does font matter to you when you’re writing a draft?
16. 3 favorite comments ever received on fanfic.
17. Any mean comments? How’d you deal with it? Who laid the smackdown?
18. If you could go back and revise one of your older stories, which would it be?
19. Do you make up scenes at work/on the bus/at the gym? Who are the characters that pop up the most? Do you write them down?
20. Go nuts, and talk about writing. Or write me a little ficlet-whatsit using a character/image/line I shall now specify—

Comments

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

Number 10, if you please. :)

[eve11]

I think part 5 of my current WIP has some good Eleven and River dialogue. From what's posted, I am pretty proud of Six and Mel in SCRUPLES, especially:
--
If only Webster had included definitions for 24th century Official Anglicanized versions of the Quenouille Replicants' third gender pronoun, he would have had a fantastic seven-letter word. Instead he eyed the game board, then plucked a single tile off his rack, lighting it on a triple letter score.

U T

"Oot?" Mel asked.

"'Uht'. Four points."

"Dare I ask?"

The Doctor fished the last tile out of the bag. "First note in the French system of musical scale solmization, still used by a few theorists in the more strict Jesuit seminaries, but generally abandoned in favor of Solfeggio's do."

"'Ut, a deer', eh?"

"Why, thank you."

Mel looked up from her tiles. The Doctor smiled smugly.

"No one should be proud of that pun, it's awful," Mel said. She changed tack, pointing to the newly opened 'C' at the top of the board. "You had to have something you could've put on that triple word score."

"Nothing interesting."

Mel pushed an errant red curl off her forehead and rubbed at her temple, wondering again why she'd thought Scrabble was a good idea. "You don't get extra points the more obscure your words are, you know."

"Hm? What?" The Doctor rearranged and un-rearranged the letters on his rack, distracted.

"You should be playing each turn to maximize your score," Mel addressed the top of his head as he set at his tiles again. "It's not a perfect solution, but I think greedy algorithms work best for this game."

He didn't look up. "Write all the plebeian phonemes you like. You can't fault me for preferring to play with a certain panache."

Mel rolled her eyes. "I'll consider it a handicap."

"I'll have you know, I can extrapolate any number of moves ahead in full sets of possibilities and probabilities with exponentially increasing complexity and maximization of any cost function I care to choose."

"I'll wager you can," she said. "But I'll also wager you don't."

The Doctor stopped his reflexive tile-arranging and examined his letter rack.

A E I O Y L L

"I have a plan," he said.
---


I also have a soft spot for Eleven and Craig in Sage Advice:
--
"And is that young Alfie?" the Doctor asked, pointing.

Craig sighed. "He's in his bedroom. Sulking, because everyone else's dad is letting them keep the weird black cubes."

"Everyone else's. . . " The Doctor looked back at the baby. "That's not Alfie?"

"Wearing a dress," Craig pointed out.

"Hidden mostly behind that bib there," argued the Doctor. "The one that says--"

"Daddy's girl?" Craig interrupted.

The sonic whirred. "That's--"

"That's Frankie."

"Now, hang on, you just said--!"

"Francesca," said Sophie. She hitched the baby further up on her hip, and helped her wave her tiny hand. "Say hello to the Doctor, Frankie."

Realization dawned, and the Doctor beamed. He tapped his nose with the sonic, tossed it end over end before catching it and pocketing it. "Six billion, four hundred thousand and twenty eight!" he said with a grin.

Frankie beamed back and blew a raspberry. The Doctor raised his eyebrows.

"Oh really?" he said, and turned to Craig. "You know she prefers to be called Princess Crystal, Queen of the Unicorns?"
--


And the first scene from Folsom Prison Blues, especially:
--
Daniel, still hesitant, met Jack's eyes with a questioning glance.

"She's fine," Jack said. "You saw amulets?"

Reassured, Daniel continued the lecture. "Round medallions with Talmudic etchings, wards against witchcraft. Both the priesthood and the commoners had them around their necks, though I imagine that the literacy needed to inscribe one is relegated only to the ruling class. While it seems the Goa'uld herself has long abandoned the planet, the people are still ill-educated, mistrustful and highly superstitious. If we could just explain to them that we're not their enemy--"

"Oh, I think we're a little past that stage," Jack said.

"But we need--"

"Fiery death, Daniel!"

Daniel's shoulders sagged. "Right. We need to get out of here, first."
--