WIP Fic Meme
Mar. 28th, 2010 02:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cabensonI started this last month and finally finished it up. Not sure who I stole it from, but I thank you because it has peaked my writing interest again.
Choose from your writing works-in-progress and post snippets from 5-10 pieces without explanation:
1. Contrary to popular belief, there are a lot of times in my life that I really don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I just know how to make it look like I do. And people either buy it, or are too afraid of the professional persona I wear like armor to call me on it…well, most people, anyway.
The OR is my own little castle, and as King Shit, the way I rule dictates whether my patients will get another chance to rule their piece of the world. My Kingdom reaches far and wide throughout the hospital and I am always expected to have the answers that will save the day. But not today. Today, I am avoiding everyone.
And that is how I came to be sitting in this empty gallery high above a darkened OR, wondering how the hell the hell both my professional and personal lives have become so entwined. I rest my chin on the knees I’ve hugged to my chest, nervously tapping my thumbnail against my teeth.
And that is how she finds me.
2. When I first met Emma’s mother, Olivia Spencer, I told myself, “That girl is a mess!” A gorgeous, wealthy, intelligent, mess, but a mess none the less. And like most people in Springfield, I found myself both fascinated and repulsed by her. Luckily, I got over all that last part, because here we are, two years later, crazy in love and preparing to welcome a new daughter to our family.
I suppose you are wondering how this all came about. To be honest, I still find the story a little unbelievable myself, but if you want to sit down and have some cookies with me, I’ll tell you how I went from hating Olivia Spencer to falling head over heels in love with her.
3. The sweat trickled down her brow, stinging eyes already irritated from the early evening’s harsh sun. It was a fluke. It had to be, she told herself as she ran through the park. I’m not interested in women, not in that way…am I? She had hoped the excessive physical exertion would burn the images of the day’s events from her mind, but it seemed the more she pushed herself, the more she thought about the potting shed. And Nikki Wade.
4. The picture in the paper had been enough to prompt her into action. The stories about Casey Novak losing cases left and right were bad enough, but now the inept attorney had transformed herself into a physical clone of her once-thought-dead predecessor. She had Cabot’s job, with a pair of glasses, one could almost say she had Cabot’s look, and now she was going after Cabot’s girl. Casey had to be stopped once and for all. Alex picked up the phone and dialed the numbers she had committed to her memory almost a year ago. “Hammond,” she growled, “fuck Velez, I’m going home!”
5. The sun was shining, a true rarity in Seattle, but nothing could shine as brightly as the smile worn by Erica Hahn as she headed into Seattle Grace Hospital. She waved in response to the incessant greetings of “Good Morning, Dr. Hahn”, tipped the coffee-bar barrista $5.00, and waited happily for the elevator to arrive. She didn’t even groan in disgust when the doors opened to reveal that pain in the ass suck up, Dr. Cristina Yang.
“Good Morning, Dr. Hahn,” Cristina said as she moved herself to the far corner of the elevator and out of perpetual harm’s way.
“Good Morning to you, Dr. Yang,” Erica answered cheerfully.
Unbalanced by Hahn’s apparent good mood, yet wanting to keep the conversation going with her normally cantankerous not-teacher, Cristina decided to try the personal approach. “How’s Callie? I haven’t seen her around much lately.”
Erica smiled when she heard Callie’s name. “Dr. Torres was just fine the last time I saw her.” Fine and naked in my bed, Erica thought.
“Oh, uhm, good. Could you tell her she has a ton of mail at home? Some of it looked important.”
“I would be happy to pass that information along, Dr. Yang.”
Cristina couldn’t believe that this person next to her, sipping on an iced mochaccino, making small talk, well really small talk, was indeed Erica “The Hardcore Hardass” Hahn.
“You know, you seem so much nicer now that you’re getting laid.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She watched the smile on Hahn’s face fade and the stony glare return, and she prepared herself for the worse.
Erica shook her head in disbelief as she took a sip of her frozen coffee. “And you were doing so well, Dr.Yang.”
Before the words to Cristina’s apology could form in her mouth, there was an explosive sound. The lights went out as the elevator began to shake and came to a sudden stop. Oh shit! Cristina thought as an eerie silence overtook the car. I’m trapped in an elevator with the one person in this hospital that hates me more than Izzie Stevens…
6. The Dating of Callie and Hahn as told by Dr. Cristina Yang
My name is Dr. Cristina Yang and I am the best surgical resident at Seattle Grace Hospital. I am currently riding on an “I yelled at Hahn in the OR and survived” high and absolutely nothing can ruin that for me. Except maybe learning that Seattle Grace had fallen to Number 12 in the rankings for teaching facilities throughout this fine nation.
Bailey: Oh shit, we’re Number 12?!
Yang: cough*Hahn’s fault*cough
Meredith: cough*Thanks Hahn*cough
Izzie: cough*Hahn’s a bitch*cough
Derek: Hey, it is NOT Dr. Hahn’s fault we are Number 12! (TURNS TO Erica) No seriously, Erica, it IS your fault.
7. And that’s what you always do Helen, isn’t it? You play the power game on me. Have you ever considered therapy? Christ knows you need it!
Helen kept her eyes glued on the painting across from her desk, never blinking as Nikki stormed out of her office. It was only when she heard the door slam shut that she breathed, slowly collapsing back against her chair. She struggled to keep the tears from falling as she thought about Nikki’s words. You play the power game on me. Once again, she had inadvertently hurt the one person she never wanted to hurt.
8. She knew the moment the laughter spewed from her mouth that any attempt to lie would be unsuccessful, but she tried anyway.
9. Webster says the definition of knowledge is “the sum of all that is known.” Personally, I think Webster is full of shit.
I believe that knowledge is equal parts instinct and innovation, wonder and pain. And I think sometimes, it’s easier to want what you know rather than know what you want. And that brings me to my current predicament-caught in a romantic triangle where a =sexual repression, b=newly discovered emotional vulnerability and c= someone’s gonna get hurt.
10. “Okay Detective, now you really owe me,” Alex smirked as she dropped another file onto Olivia’s desk. “Here is an off the record report on Harry Baker, your “Cat Flambé Boy.”
Olivia motioned for Alex to take the chair next to her desk, and opened the file. “Damn, Cabot,” she said as she read, “What did you have to do to get this?” she asked.
“Let’s just say that I came very close to prostituting myself to a Juvenile Prosecutor. Luckily, she was still pissed because I cancelled lunch with her last year, so my virtue remains intact.”
“You saw Shaheen?” Olivia asked uneasily. She remembered how she had listened to Alex rave for weeks about the young prosecutor, all the while trying to muster up the courage to ask Cabot out herself- something she still hadn’t done.
Choose from your writing works-in-progress and post snippets from 5-10 pieces without explanation:
1. Contrary to popular belief, there are a lot of times in my life that I really don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I just know how to make it look like I do. And people either buy it, or are too afraid of the professional persona I wear like armor to call me on it…well, most people, anyway.
The OR is my own little castle, and as King Shit, the way I rule dictates whether my patients will get another chance to rule their piece of the world. My Kingdom reaches far and wide throughout the hospital and I am always expected to have the answers that will save the day. But not today. Today, I am avoiding everyone.
And that is how I came to be sitting in this empty gallery high above a darkened OR, wondering how the hell the hell both my professional and personal lives have become so entwined. I rest my chin on the knees I’ve hugged to my chest, nervously tapping my thumbnail against my teeth.
And that is how she finds me.
2. When I first met Emma’s mother, Olivia Spencer, I told myself, “That girl is a mess!” A gorgeous, wealthy, intelligent, mess, but a mess none the less. And like most people in Springfield, I found myself both fascinated and repulsed by her. Luckily, I got over all that last part, because here we are, two years later, crazy in love and preparing to welcome a new daughter to our family.
I suppose you are wondering how this all came about. To be honest, I still find the story a little unbelievable myself, but if you want to sit down and have some cookies with me, I’ll tell you how I went from hating Olivia Spencer to falling head over heels in love with her.
3. The sweat trickled down her brow, stinging eyes already irritated from the early evening’s harsh sun. It was a fluke. It had to be, she told herself as she ran through the park. I’m not interested in women, not in that way…am I? She had hoped the excessive physical exertion would burn the images of the day’s events from her mind, but it seemed the more she pushed herself, the more she thought about the potting shed. And Nikki Wade.
4. The picture in the paper had been enough to prompt her into action. The stories about Casey Novak losing cases left and right were bad enough, but now the inept attorney had transformed herself into a physical clone of her once-thought-dead predecessor. She had Cabot’s job, with a pair of glasses, one could almost say she had Cabot’s look, and now she was going after Cabot’s girl. Casey had to be stopped once and for all. Alex picked up the phone and dialed the numbers she had committed to her memory almost a year ago. “Hammond,” she growled, “fuck Velez, I’m going home!”
5. The sun was shining, a true rarity in Seattle, but nothing could shine as brightly as the smile worn by Erica Hahn as she headed into Seattle Grace Hospital. She waved in response to the incessant greetings of “Good Morning, Dr. Hahn”, tipped the coffee-bar barrista $5.00, and waited happily for the elevator to arrive. She didn’t even groan in disgust when the doors opened to reveal that pain in the ass suck up, Dr. Cristina Yang.
“Good Morning, Dr. Hahn,” Cristina said as she moved herself to the far corner of the elevator and out of perpetual harm’s way.
“Good Morning to you, Dr. Yang,” Erica answered cheerfully.
Unbalanced by Hahn’s apparent good mood, yet wanting to keep the conversation going with her normally cantankerous not-teacher, Cristina decided to try the personal approach. “How’s Callie? I haven’t seen her around much lately.”
Erica smiled when she heard Callie’s name. “Dr. Torres was just fine the last time I saw her.” Fine and naked in my bed, Erica thought.
“Oh, uhm, good. Could you tell her she has a ton of mail at home? Some of it looked important.”
“I would be happy to pass that information along, Dr. Yang.”
Cristina couldn’t believe that this person next to her, sipping on an iced mochaccino, making small talk, well really small talk, was indeed Erica “The Hardcore Hardass” Hahn.
“You know, you seem so much nicer now that you’re getting laid.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She watched the smile on Hahn’s face fade and the stony glare return, and she prepared herself for the worse.
Erica shook her head in disbelief as she took a sip of her frozen coffee. “And you were doing so well, Dr.Yang.”
Before the words to Cristina’s apology could form in her mouth, there was an explosive sound. The lights went out as the elevator began to shake and came to a sudden stop. Oh shit! Cristina thought as an eerie silence overtook the car. I’m trapped in an elevator with the one person in this hospital that hates me more than Izzie Stevens…
6. The Dating of Callie and Hahn as told by Dr. Cristina Yang
My name is Dr. Cristina Yang and I am the best surgical resident at Seattle Grace Hospital. I am currently riding on an “I yelled at Hahn in the OR and survived” high and absolutely nothing can ruin that for me. Except maybe learning that Seattle Grace had fallen to Number 12 in the rankings for teaching facilities throughout this fine nation.
Bailey: Oh shit, we’re Number 12?!
Yang: cough*Hahn’s fault*cough
Meredith: cough*Thanks Hahn*cough
Izzie: cough*Hahn’s a bitch*cough
Derek: Hey, it is NOT Dr. Hahn’s fault we are Number 12! (TURNS TO Erica) No seriously, Erica, it IS your fault.
7. And that’s what you always do Helen, isn’t it? You play the power game on me. Have you ever considered therapy? Christ knows you need it!
Helen kept her eyes glued on the painting across from her desk, never blinking as Nikki stormed out of her office. It was only when she heard the door slam shut that she breathed, slowly collapsing back against her chair. She struggled to keep the tears from falling as she thought about Nikki’s words. You play the power game on me. Once again, she had inadvertently hurt the one person she never wanted to hurt.
8. She knew the moment the laughter spewed from her mouth that any attempt to lie would be unsuccessful, but she tried anyway.
9. Webster says the definition of knowledge is “the sum of all that is known.” Personally, I think Webster is full of shit.
I believe that knowledge is equal parts instinct and innovation, wonder and pain. And I think sometimes, it’s easier to want what you know rather than know what you want. And that brings me to my current predicament-caught in a romantic triangle where a =sexual repression, b=newly discovered emotional vulnerability and c= someone’s gonna get hurt.
10. “Okay Detective, now you really owe me,” Alex smirked as she dropped another file onto Olivia’s desk. “Here is an off the record report on Harry Baker, your “Cat Flambé Boy.”
Olivia motioned for Alex to take the chair next to her desk, and opened the file. “Damn, Cabot,” she said as she read, “What did you have to do to get this?” she asked.
“Let’s just say that I came very close to prostituting myself to a Juvenile Prosecutor. Luckily, she was still pissed because I cancelled lunch with her last year, so my virtue remains intact.”
“You saw Shaheen?” Olivia asked uneasily. She remembered how she had listened to Alex rave for weeks about the young prosecutor, all the while trying to muster up the courage to ask Cabot out herself- something she still hadn’t done.
