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LND story seen from a third-party viewpoint?

Just as I thought I'd reached the bottom of my queue (and might even consider approaching the Double Agents de Chagny) I seem to have been afflicted with another "Love Never Dies" fanfiction idea! So much for my chances of asserting that I had finished with that show, having already rewritten most scenes in it at least once and some more often than I like :-p

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brig, ship, Horizon

Lush Sunblock bar

This summer I've been using the Lush solid Sunblock. It wasn't actually what I went in looking for (I was much more interested in the idea of their powdered sunscreen, since I hate the greasy feel of your average suntan lotion), but it was the only high-SPF product they had; I don't sunbathe for fun, and my general idea is not to tan at all, though by the end of the summer I generally end up with a noticeable and somewhat ludicrous difference between weathered face and hands and pale body.
(I'm someone who has received the astonished comment -- from a Ghanian -- of "so that's why they call you white people" when she caught sight of my midriff!)

For some reason the Sunblock is marketed as a shower-on product, though I really don't understand how that is supposed to work on something that appears to be basically a non-water-soluble cocoa-butter base, and would surely make a nasty greasy mess of the towels. Also, I prefer to wash after going out in the sun and getting all sweaty and hot, not before.
But the sales assistant advised me simply to use this product like one of their massage bars -- run it over the skin until it melts at body temperature, then rub in the resulting oils -- and this seems to be what everybody who reviewed it on the Internet ended up doing. Collapse )

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If I were Vicomte (ch1)

After much procrastination, I finally managed to get this typed-up over the course of a couple of days by virtue of running a 'changeover' scheme with the other stuff I was supposed to be transcribing; every ten minutes an alarm was set to go off on my computer advising me to switch material and start typing in the other document! Of course this theoretically meant that the original task took twice as long as normal, but in practice it didn't seem to make much difference (nobody noticed), presumably because the change in source material helped prevent me from getting as bored as usual.

I currently have it split into four chapters, roughly according to chronological jumps (although the last two scenes are separated by a not insignificant period). The main trouble is that the scenes get shorter and shorter as the story goes on, with the last two even when paired together still coming in at under a thousand words, while the first chapter is about two-fifths of the total length all on its own. But the only other sensible division would be to run all the 'adult-epoch' scenes together, and there really is a sizeable shift across this material, both in time and in Yann's relationship with Christine.

Weirdly, I seem to have averaged a lot more words per page on this story than in the previous story in the same notebook; still, four chapters is a lot for a story that's only just over 5,000 words in all. Especially as the previous one was published as a single 3,800-word chapter! (The cynical approach on fanfiction.net, of course, is to upload across as many chapters as possible in order to accumulate maximum reviews and keep the story boosted back to the top of the fandom listing...)

Still wondering what 'category' to put this under and whether it's humorous at all; I'm tempted to do Angst/Humour.


If I Were Vicomte

1. Jeunesse

The sun shone bright across Trestraou’s sands on the day the wandering fiddler came, and the wind raced across the wide bare sweep of that great strand with nothing to halt it but the church high above and the handful of cottages down by the shore. The fiddler and his little daughter had roamed from village to village for weeks, playing and singing as they went and refusing all payment save a bed of straw for the night and a dish of fresh milk in the morning, and much talk had been made of it thereabouts. But to the barefoot children who scuffled amidst their fathers’ nets, the big man with a fiddle-case slung over his shoulder was simply a stranger in a place where no new face was seen from one season to the next, and they watched him from a distance and with wide eyes.

The newcomer and the little girl came down to the shore and stood hand in hand, gazing out across the unmarked sands that stretched away beneath that vast overarching sky. Collapse ) This entry was originally posted at http://igenlode.dreamwidth.org/84339.html, where there are comment count unavailable comments.

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More flowers

More new flowers from the second tray: this one seems to be a nemisia. And this one appears to be some kind of corn-cockle. Possibly. Except that it doesn't have hairy leaves or stems - and those twisted flower-buds with the bulge at the end are very distinctive... I think there may be some more ageratums growing in the first tray, but if so they didn't do nearly so well as the two in the second tray; almost all of them have withered and died at a young stage, one looks as if it has pulled through (though still much smaller than the ones planted later) and one may have a healthy new leaf coming. Otherwise we have some wallflower-like things, and the love-in-the-mist-like things which have been sitting in the understory doing not very much -- I thought they might perk up now that everything above them has died back, but not so far. This entry was originally posted at http://igenlode.dreamwidth.org/84046.html, where there are comment count unavailable comments.
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There is no Phantom of the Opera

I decided not to split this into two chapters. The place I had in mind ("He did not think he could ever feel like this for anyone but Christine") doesn't really work as a chapter division, since it's in the middle of Raoul's thoughts about his feelings for her, and the logical place (after "sweet and round and wrinkled as a winter apple") is too close to the end of the story; the second chapter doesn't have enough substance.

I note that Carlotta is busy suspecting Raoul of secretly being the Phantom, while this version of Raoul seems pretty suspicious of Meg!


There is no Phantom of the Opera

Raoul-Achille-Honoré — youngest and most recent of the Vicomtes de Chagny — was not given to flights of fancy. A trifle impetuous maybe, perhaps even as naïve as his scoffing friends liked to claim, but for all his youth he was a man grown, an educated man in a world of rational thought, and he did not believe in ghosts. In particular, not ghosts that laid claim to such very tangible possessions as an opera box or twenty thousand francs in cash... or that, bare minutes ago, had looped an all-too-solid rope around a man’s neck and thrust him into that ghastly dance of death as a warning.

Christine’s face had been ashen at the sight, and he’d choked down horror of his own; but she’d needed him, and he’d rushed unhesitatingly to her side. He would have offered her the comfort of his arms — of his home, if she would have it — but she’d caught at his hand, drawing him instead into this wild flight.

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At last!

Finally finished "If I were Vicomte" after all those years; it only took about a week in the end, though it always feels like longer when you're actually in the throes of doing it. There's nothing like actually starting a project for getting it completed!
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The first two flowers to emerge out of my smaller second tray were, predictably, yet another daisy and another Jacob's ladder, but I now have two more that didn't germinate in the first batch at all. The big bushy thistle-like thing turns out to be an ageratum:


And the second is heartsease:


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One-shot progress

Completed "There is no Phantom of the Opera" (one-shot following Raoul's thoughts on the way up the stairs to the roof) and started work -- finally, after about two years! -- on the number-one entry in my mental 'queue', "If I Were Vicomte". Of course, as I might have predicted, when actually written it isn't coming out as a humorous spoof-fic at all, but as a 'straight' re-telling of the story as a romance with its 'Raoul' as a poor Breton peasant who is socially inferior to Christine, rather than being the entitled aristocrat of so much fan-fiction; apparently I simply can't do comedy.Collapse )

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Raoul and ghosts

I've now definitely started my new one-shot story, "There is no Phantom of the Opera", set from Raoul's point of view in the moments between Carlotta's croak and arriving on the roof with Christine.

(Because after all, what did he mean by "there is no Phantom of the Opera"? Presumably not 'what we just saw didn't happen, and neither did the notes signed Opera Ghost' -- however pig-headed you want to believe him, by this point Raoul can scarcely disbelieve that something odd is going on at the Opera. So presumably he is trying to reassure her that whoever is behind this, it's not supernatural -- Buquet's stories of living skulls and the backstage superstitions about all accidents being the agency of the 'Phantom' are just that, superstition. And above all, the Phantom can't really get into her head and influence her actions as she seems to believe; she has nothing to fear but fear itself.

(Unfortunately he isn't quite right on that front, but he has no way of knowing this...)

Since I'm assuming that this one is going to be short, I'm writing it in an unused 2014 pocket diary, which has the merit of being much more portable than the A4 hardback notebooks I've been using. This does mean that I only get a couple of sentences per page, though!



More flowers emerging: these ones seem to be something along the lines of a snapdragon. (As always, click for full-size image -- the thumbnails are a bit useless.)



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New flowers emerging


I assumed from the leaves that this was another Jacob's Ladder flower, but in fact it turns out to be a poached-egg plant -- now that I know, I can tell the difference in the foliage.



Apparently I have multiple different colours of Livingstone daisy in the packet; if I'd known, I might have been less ruthless about weeding out duplicates! But I really don't have room for more than a few plants of each, and luckily the survivors seem to cover a range of possibilities. This third colour is particularly striking.

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EU Referendum

Well, I've ended up spoiling my ballot for the first time ever (and, typically, dithering for ages in the polling booth over the form of words to use for something that will never get read).

Which is a cop-out that means I get no say either way, yet have to take responsibility for whatever the consequences :-(

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