90 min stories

There haven't been prompts for the past couple weeks, but I haven't been shirking the writing. I have been grabbing some Halloween prompts and using those. Mostly in an effort to work on my short story skills, I have been writing stories nearly entirely in the one class I help out with.

It's been a fun exercise in trying to have snippets of life rather than big plots. I wrote one on supernatural beings hiding in plain sight on Halloween. (And then realized I maybe want to revisit that universe later.) Another on the Greek Fates in modern day. And then today I finally planned out a scene I have been stressing about in my Merlin story. Oh and I wrote one about a ghost in the tunnels. That was last week. This week's snippet is from that story.

Favourite writing from this week:

Karen jotted down the part number and walked to the storage tunnel entrance. She grabbed a torch from the shelf and entered her ID. The keypad lit up green, she pushed open the door, and entered the tunnel.

Now she was sure that she could hear the Thames. She didn’t like it. It was too close. Part K332. She had a ways to go in the tunnel. The further she walked, the less she liked it.

Every step echoed. A...B... Her torch beam was the only light available. C...D... The walls felt like they were getting closer. E...F... She tried humming a song, but the bounced noises were worse. G...H...

Something furry brushed her leg and she lept away with a gasp, dropping her light in surprise. It went out.

“Who is responsible for designing that?” she asked of the darkness.

She didn’t expect the darkness to reply.

Say That Again?

Prompt: Someone has to repeat something three times before it sinks in.

Sometimes a prompt pokes at your brain. This one was just screaming for a 00Q fic but I couldn't figure out the prompt until my friend made lovely artwork and then I absolutely had the whole plot and the format of the fic. 

Hopefully not that this short fic is out of the way, my brain is clear enough to do lots of story planning tomorrow. Maybe I will even get out of my pajamas.

Favourite writing from this week:

“I love you,” Bond tossed out as he admired his new watch from Q branch. It was high class and explosive. Q could understand why the agent was enamoured. 

“Hurry up or you will miss your flight, 007. Please try to bring everything back in one piece.”

Only the outer ring of the clock face came back. 

“Go to the roof, a helicopter will be there in forty seconds. I will take care of everything else.”

Bond was breathing hard as he sprinted up the stairs. He was out of ammunition, out of gadgets, and nearly out of blood. “I bloody love you,” he said when he burst onto the roof. 

“We’ll see how you feel after your two weeks in medical,” Q said primly. “I've forwarded them your smart blood files so no lying.”

Bond was already unconscious in the rescue copter. 

“Q, I love you too, but wasn't Eve suppose to be my partner for this mission?”

“There is new intel. Valentine’s Day in a gay bar it seems,” Q replied. “I hope you are not too disappointed.”

“With you? Never. I just don't want you to be hurt. You aren't a field agent.”

“I'm well aware of that. Which is why I fully intend to flee at the second sign of danger.”

“The second?”

“We are both paranoid spies. We will pick up on the first sign of danger as soon as we walk in.”

In hindsight, maybe he should have turned back at the door. 

“Bond?”

“I'm here, Q.” The agent placed Q’s glasses back on his face.

“What are you doing here? And when was the last time you slept?”

“I've been here since we got back and the doctors got to work on you.”

Q blinked at him. “But why? Did M ground you as punishment? I'll tell him you are not to blame.”

“It's my choice. I don't want to be anywhere else until I know you are fully healed.”

Q stared at him, the words not computing. 

“I love you, Q.”

Everything fell into place, the final firewall brought down. 

“Oh.”

July Writing

July was catch up month. July was CampNaNoWriMo. July was also 007 Fest. It's the last one that kept me busy.

I wrote 15 stories, adding up to 27,975 words this past month. Sure it is not November, but I feel equally as exhausted. (Although this is partly because I was both a team captain and a mod for the group running it.) I challenged myself to write some things I would not have written otherwise and I am very proud of what I have come up with.

There are two stories I am particularly proud of. Misunderstandings was born of three Wordbound prompts and I finally feel like it is fairly reasonable with a decent amount of emotion.

I'm also proud of another story that is actually pseudocode format.

I am looking forward to jumping back into normal prompts, although my brain needs a couple days off from writing first.

Villains R Us

Prompt: Include something that must be whispered.

This was more of an editing and procrastinating week for me, but this did fit nicely with the newest story my friend wants me to write. Based on us noticing that in most Bond movies, the villain has an underground lair with a shark and a monorail. We wondered if there was a 2 for 1 special on at Villains R Us.

Favourite writing from this week: 

Q led a puzzled Tanner up the stairs and opened the closet door. He walked inside and stood next to the water heater. “Come along.”

Tanner frowned, but stood next to his friend.

Q reached up and pressed a button hidden on the ceiling. The door closed and the floor slowly sank down. “If you have that list on your phone, you might want to pull it up. I'd be curious to see how many things I remembered.”

Tanner started to pull up the list when the brightness changed and he promptly forgot about his phone.

They broke out of the darkness to emerge in an underground cave. It was lit by soft lights that allowed the natural minerals in the earth to glitter slightly. Along the far wall, a waterfall fed into a large pool, the gentle splashing providing the perfect ambient noise. A bridge over the water lead to a small platform with a porch swing and a small pile of books.

“Welcome to my mad scientist lair,” Q said with a smile.

“No, you have earned the title of evil scientist since you hid this from me for so long. Who else knows?”

“My sister. No one else.”

“Then I suppose I am honoured.”

“Well come on, let me give you a tour.”

When Friends help you Punish your Characters

Prompt: Feature a couple of your writing friends! How do you inspire each other?

I thought I would focus on some people that have shaped my writing. Karlimir Stonewain was a user I conversed with way back on lotrfanfiction.net. They were an older writer, already retired, and I was just starting out. They edited my chapters occasionally and always left encouraging reviews. To this day I will always have this person to look back on as an example of how to encourage and support others online.

Then there is my real life friend with whom I have tried to write many stories. Although none of these have ever made it very far, she Is the one I turn to when I can't figure out where my plot is going, what things should be called, or if I need to rant about a book I read. Someday we will finish that story of ours.

Currently, I am part of a wonderful group of writers on tumblr who edit each other's work and promote each other's stories. They fill me with ideas, help me when I struggle to write in a new way, and always put a smile on my face. It is so hard to pick only a few, but the ones who are inspiring me most at the moment are Opal, Cas, Gwyllion, and Ven.

This last one has truly grown into a unique friendship. I offered to beta a story of hers, then she beta'd one of mine, and back and forth for nearly a year now. She is also the only reason my NaNoWriMo story ever got written this year and the reason it even makes sense. I love our brainstorming sessions together and the little shout outs and inside jokes we now throw in our stories for the other. This wonderful person goes by Requiem

The writing from this week is, well, not my favourite, but it is a current struggle. I am on the third draft of this and writing torture is hard. Any constructive criticism would be helpful.

Favourite writing from this week: 

She watched him pour the petrol in an increasing spiral around the room. She noticed that it was not a steady stream, it splashed a bit. Maybe that would slow down the advance of fire when they did light it. Either way, it didn’t look good for her.
Logically she knew it hadn’t been long since she sent the distress signal through her tracker. Assuming the signal made it to headquarters, they still had to identify an agent who was free, contact them, and narrow down her location. London was a big city and so wherever she was, it would take time for them to get to her.
And what could she do in the meantime? She wasn’t going to hack this for them. Did they plan on waiting here and staring at her while she stared back? She shivered. She hoped not. Already being bound to the chair in front of these men was sending her mind into spirals of dark what-if scenarios she was desperately trying to block out.
Adding the threat of fire was only adding another nightmare scenario for her brain to play with and twist. She never wanted to know what is was like to die a martyr, but now she may know what it felt like. Even if her name was never known to the outside world. All they would find were her charred remains in front of a computer. She died as she lived, she could imagine her friends saying. All her life spent in front of a computer, fighting for good, and now she would die having refused to lay a finger on the keyboard.
“I will give you one last time to accept our offer on your own terms,” Rob said when the man was finished pouring the petrol. “Will you wipe his identity for us?”
R lifted her chin high and clenched her fists in defiance. “No.” If she was going to die terrified, she would die terrified on her own terms, sticking by her own morals.
“Very well then.” Rob pulled a disposable lighter out of his pocket and lit it. Holding it up dramatically, he waited for her to suddenly change her mind, but R was decided. Without looking away from her, Rob dropped the lighter onto the line of gas.

Spark of Inspiration

Prompt: A character opens someone else's desk drawer. What do they find?

Remember how last week I said that I was so busy and didn't have time to write? Well I read this prompt and the story sprung to mind and I had it written by that evening. Turns out sometimes a perfect prompt forces you to make time to write, even if it is writing on your phone while on the bus. Below is a snippet from that story.

I also decided to do Camp Nano which I have never done before. I set my loose goal at 60 hours of writing time for this month. For me, I am expanding this to include not just story writing time, but also paper writing time (since I have a lot of that to do in April), and editing time.

Yes, I was finally able to write "the end" on my nanowrimo story and now I have it printed out, ready to be edited in pen. It's exciting.

Favourite writing from this week: 

Report compiled by: Alex Turner
No. Surely not. But then, why wouldn't they? Bond had faked his own death before. He let the ruse continue for quite some time as well.
Returning the documents and closing the compartment, the agent blindly perused the storage shelves as he thought.
Bond had thought Alex died over a year ago. Bond had thought that Q couldn't keep secrets. Bond had thought smart blood was nothing more than a tracking system that could monitor his vitals. Bond had thought he knew Q.

Now he wasn't sure what he knew.

One, Two, Three Slaps

Prompt: Use numbers in an interesting way.

The prompt didn't exactly get fulfilled, but it got me to finally get this chapter out of my head and on to the page. I had tried to avoid writing a torture scene in this short story since I am not good at writing that, but when I skipped it my beta editor kept getting really confused by what I had envisioned. And so with some numbers in there, I got the chapter written. What follows is a snapshot of the chapter.

Favourite writing from this week: 

While he spoke, R took the opportunity to discretely tap the side of her foot three times. They didn't seem to know who she worked for, so she assumed they hadn't disabled her tracker. Perhaps if she kept them talking, her rescuers would find her before anything happened to her.
“And so, as he built his company in the wake of our humiliation, we vowed to seek revenge forever more.”
It seemed it wouldn't be too hard to keep them talking.
“We waited patiently, growing our new business from the ashes of the old. And like a phoenix we have been reborn. Now is our time to seek glorious payback. And from his success, his downfall will be so much sweeter.” The man smiled, staring off into the distance, perhaps seeing a chorus of angels singing his praises.
“Let's get to the plan, Rob,” the second man interrupted the daydream.
“Of course.” He shook his head quickly, as if to shake off the fantasy. “It's quite simple really. We need you to wipe Jerome Cardinal’s identity from the Internet.”
R blinked.
“Well, did you hear me?”
“Yes, I heard you. Sorry, I don't think you realise how difficult that will be.” R was tempted to laugh. Even Q would find it difficult. “Bank statements and credit cards, those are hard, but I can manage. But a person’s entire identity? You know the government has copies of birth certificates, right? Not to mention driver’s licenses, marriage certificates, university enroll--”

“That's enough!”

For want of a TARDIS

Prompt: Take an author photo and write yourself a bio.

It was going to be more serious, but this week has been too serious by far. So here is the fun.




















Jennifer is on her way to becoming a professional astronomer who can make you call her Doctor even though she lacks a blue box that travels in time and space. If she had one, she might have more time to do her homework while writing, making youtube videos, and sleeping.

She also enjoys baking to forget about deadlines, swimming to forget deadlines, and pretending to be a fantasy warrior queen despite only having four crowns (okay, maybe that is more than normal) and being terrible at archery.

Favourite writing from this week: 

Stealthily, they stole down the hallway, passing a few different doors to large storage rooms. Listening to the minion in his ear, Q kept walking and lead them up to the top floor, where there was a guard. It was also another clue that this was not a professional group.

The man was dressed in business casual, leaning back in his chair, and watching something on his phone with one earbud in. Q and Casper exchanged raised eyebrows before the former shot a dart into the man’s neck. He barely had time to register surprise before losing his balance and toppling backwards. Q winced as the phone shattered on the concrete. Although, he glanced down as they walked past, serves him right for not having a case on an iphone. The door he had been in front of was the one they wanted. Even if the GPS hadn’t told them, the faint light coming from under the door indicated that something was going on inside.

Glaring at the Moon

Prompt: A character realizes something as they look up at the night sky.

I completely thought that this prompt would be applied to my nanowrimo story. They are approaching a time limit that is marked by a sunset. However, apparently that story did not want to be written this weekend. So this morning I tried to fit it into my other new story. (If you are counting, that is three that are currently in progress.)

Somehow that turned into a plot point that seems like it will add two chapters to the story I thought would only have one chapter. Well, you can't deny the muses when they want something. And so below is the night sky and the turning point of this story.

Favourite writing from this week: 

His branch could alter nearly every digital record, but they could not add people into every yearbook in print and if one looked close enough, discrepancies could be found.
Although the hackers had not determined true identities of the agents, a correct guess had been made to connect them to MI6 and they put phase two of their plan into action. So while Scotland Yard prosecuted the ones who had been in the bank for robbery and arson, Q tasked a group to trace the hackers in the digital world
They were found surprisingly fast. Q called back the agents and told his staff to go home. R volunteered to accompany the police when they collected the hackers to pick up their equipment. Even Q went home then.
The night was warm and clear so he took the opportunity to take a late night stroll in the local park. Under the crescent moon, he could feel his muscles relax, the tension fade away.
Only then he felt his phone vibrate. He would have ignored it if it wasn’t morse code for SOS. Well shit. He pulled up the alert. It came from R. He glared up at the night sky, daring it to tell him it was not as he feared.

War Games

Prompt:  Put a character in an abandoned building or space

This was a great prompt for me this week. I was already sending one set of characters into an abandoned temple (although they have only just found the entrance) and I started a new story the revolves around this idea. I will share the beginning of that with you below. It was originally going to be Halloween themed, but the story changed on me.

Favourite writing from this week: 

Attn: Agents currently enrolled in M265: History of Spycraft and MI6

Field trip to Churchill’s War Rooms has been scheduled for March 18th. Meet Agent Simmons outside the entrance at 2100. Modern technology is forbidden on this excursion, please leave your technology at home or be prepared to surrender it upon arrival. Notepads and pencils are encouraged. Attendance is mandatory.

Agent Simmons lead the agents in training down the stairs into the long hallway that lead to the war rooms. Tommy was right beside her, pompously explaining all the history that the others could easily read on the walls as they walked. Agent Simmons let him continue, but it didn’t take Zoey long to tell him to shut up. They had all done the reading and they had all covered the same material in primary school. Tommy started to snap back at her, but Eden cut him off with a question.

“Why are we here so late at night?” she asked.

“Simply because it is far less busy when it is closed,” their instructor replied, stopping in front of the door at the end of the hall and pulling out a key. “No crowds and no one to stop us from crossing to the other side of the roped off area.”

The new agents perked up at that. Many of them had visited the museum in the past on school trips or family outings to the city, but being allowed on the other side was unheard of. The museum boasted that nothing had been moved since the end of the war, the maps on the walls still reflecting the last known placements of troops and the memos of urgent business lying on Churchill's desk.

In the back of the group, Lillian and Shay exchanged quiet smiles of excitement. It had been a while since Shay felt excited about spycraft, but this felt like stepping back in time, into one of his books.

“Now I know some of you have visited before, but in case it had been a while, I will give you a brief tour before letting you explore more fully on your own.” He straightened and skillfully his the grimace and the twinge of pain shooting across his lower back. Turning, he lead his group of six on an abridged tour of the bunker. Even before the end, he knew where each would go when he let them loose. Tommy would go straight to Churchill’s desk, wanting to see for himself what sitting in a position of power would feel like.

Zoey would go to the dormitories and snoop in their closets to learn about the people who had stayed here. Lillian would follow her, sticking together and making sure everything was left the way they found it.

Eden and Shay would head straight for the control room. Eden was the car girl, but she was the one who first brought Shay to Q branch and she would have made a fine engineer if her mind wasn’t so set on being an agent. The increased opportunities to wear even fancier clothes out in the field or at parties while an agent was probably a point of consideration as well.

It was Emerson who was the toss up of the group. After reminding them that if they touched anything, they must put it back exactly as they found it, she watched him slowly walk to the large conference table and sit along one edge. He sat and observed.

Writing Mary Sues is Important

Prompt: What is something you’re embarrassed to admit you’ve written?

I tend to pretty proud of my writing. There are some stories that I hope people don't find anymore, but I can easily see that all of my writing has been slowly shaping me to be a much better writer. Is it a bit embarrassing to look back at a fic and realise that it is basically a self-insert Mary-Sue fic? Sure. Is it worse to know you did another two years later? Yes. But even looking between those two I am proud to see how much my writing has improved. And bits of the first one has still stayed with me in ways I hadn't predicted.

What I refuse to let anyone see, however, is a reflective piece on my feelings regarding my best friend. It's almost like a diary entry as I try to sort out what my heart wants and what my brain thinks is ridiculous. As I read it back today, I almost wish to obliterate it completely, delete it from my drive and never look back. Yet it remains there, hidden.

My writing this week is the beginning of a short story to celebrate some of the women in the James Bond universe.

Favourite writing from this week: 

With the sun on their backs, their toes happily buried in the sand, and big hats protecting their necks, Tracy and Kissy could not be happier. The sound of the waves gently lapping the Japanese shoreline in front of Kissy’s home relaxed them and melted away any stress better than a masseur could even with the most skilled hands.

It had been less than a year since these two met, entirely by chance, on a flight from Hong Kong to Tokyo. In the short flight, they had come to understand just how similar they were and they continued to spend time together once they landed. Once the background checks were complete, the real friendship began.

Now both of their fathers were delighted by the impending permanent alliance between the Japanese Secret Service and the Union Corse. It was an important connection to mainland Europe for Tanaka and better control of shipping for Draco.

As for the women, they were delighted that they had another female who shared their love of danger and with whom they could trade secrets of their craft. There was spycraft. And then there was female spycraft. The men knew nothing of the code in perfumes or the true skill in hiding weapons beneath a cocktail dress. They did not know how to recognise a poison by the colour of lipstick or spot a barbed braid by the way it lay on the woman’s back.

But for now, that was all pushed out of their minds. Just the sand, and the sun, and the beeping noise. They simultaneously rolled to their sides and grabbed their phones. In sync once again, they swore in their native languages. “Not again.”