As decreed by sg_fignewton, today is Gen Fic Day. Alas, I became informed of this event far too late to prepare for it properly, so instead of a fic, I bring you a fic rec in keeping with this week's Star Trek kick:
It's eighteen years old, but for me, it's the only thing that justifies the existence of The Final Frontier. It is the most fascinating and pitch perfect piece of gen fic I read as a teenager, and believe me when I tell you that it still holds up years later. If you haven't read this novella already, go forth and do so without delay!
(Posted publicly for outside surfers.)
ETA: I just realized they're only doing SG1 fics at the above link. But hell, why can't we make this multifandom? There can never be too much gen, says I.
Gather all your RP journals and list the characters and any AU versions you RP. Open the doors to the public side so even lurkers can ask the muses questions. Respond with that RP account - or if you don't have accounts, just to the question given.
NaNo, as you may have noticed, is stalled for the moment. I've been re-thinking the thrust of my project, but I hope to be getting back into the swing of things this week. In the meantime, have some St. Elsewhere spam, in which I noodle with Elliot's voice in honor of tonight's re-run:
“Hey, Shirley – you know where Elliot went?”
Don’t tell him. Elliot thumped his hot forehead against the bathroom door. Please?
It was the first day of gross anatomy all over again – only this time, the patient was alive – and bleeding – out there, and Elliot himself was still conscious. In other circumstances, the second might’ve been recognized as a sign of personal growth. In other circumstances.
Stars started to twinkle at the edges of Elliot’s field of vision, and he quickly backed up into the tiny bathroom, sitting down hard on the toilet seat. With slick, trembling fingers, he tried to loosen his collar. He was suffocating.
Then, just as suddenly, nerves and self-loathing propelled Elliot back onto his feet, and he started to pace the enclosed space, wringing his hands. “What’s wrong with you?” he muttered aloud. “You’re not supposed to panic, Axelrod. Pull yourself together.”
At the knock on the door, Elliot froze, a brand new crimson flush crawling up the back of his neck. This was it. He was going to throw up. He was going to die. He was going to be barred from practicing medicine before he’d even begun.
“It’s okay, Elliot. You can come out now. They just took the patient up to surgery.”
Was Dr. Fiscus amused?
Elliot drew in a deep breath and, bracing himself, opened the door.
Now - I have combed the internet doggedly for STE fic and have found none. NONE. Does this mean I've given birth to a whole new fandom right here? Can there be such a thing as a fandom of one? *g*
In this segment, I tackle Vogler (under the working sub-head: “The Problematic Quest for Moriarty - House and His (Imperfectly Written)Antagonists”):
“Gregory House is a symbol of everything wrong with the health care industry: waste, insubordination, doctors preening like they're kings and the hospital their own private fiefdom. Health care is a business. I'm gonna run it like one.” – Edward Vogler, Babies and Bathwater
(Note: Spoiler warning for the end of the first season.)
The fourth season premiere is tonight - and I still have not finished the Epic Essay of Doom for idol_reflection. So here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to post the parts of my rough draft I have finished in the hopes that encouragement from the general public will push me to complete the blasted thing before I am jossed by the new episodes. Beat me with sticks, please!
First up, Stacy Warner:
"How do you think this is gonna end? We'll be happy for what? A few weeks, few months. And then I'll say something insensitive, or I'll start ignoring you. And at first it'll be okay. It's just House being House. And then at some point, you will need something more. You'll need someone who can give you something I can't. You know I’m right. I've been there before." – House to Stacy Warner, Need to Know
(Note: Spoiler warning for the first half of the second season.)
I could go on, but I think you get the picture. Loyalty Day is, essentially, a Cold War relic that is marked these days by all presidents (no matter their party affiliation) with one innocuous public declaration of patriotism, then promptly forgotten. Each president puts his own spin on his Loyalty Day address, of course, but if you're imagining that we Americans somehow become extra jingoistic on May 1 - or that President Bush is somehow unique in his observance of this "holiday" - you are profoundly misinformed.
(Made public because I'm sick of the Loyalty Day bullshit being repeated every year.)