Category Archives: Fanfiction

New Fiction: Devotional

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Laurence Fox and Kevin Whately in ITV’s ‘Lewis’

After the revenge murders at St Gerards, Lewis goes off on his desperately needed holiday in Italy with Lyn.  It turns out to be less theraputic than he’d hoped:

“My James, he thinks again, and realises that a soft smile has sneaked onto his lips without his permission.

The smile isn’t the only thing that’s been sneaking about without his noticing.  Here is Lynn, weighed down with several shopping bags from what look to be expensive shops, and a knowing grin on her face.  She’s been standing in front of him for several moments, it seems, and seen everything. 

 ‘Dad,’ she wheedles, sitting down with a knowing grin.  ‘Anything you want to tell me about?’”

You can read Devotional here on AO3.

Happy Creating,

EF

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Friday Quick Fic: Mattress Topper

mattress topper

Sometimes something silly just falls out of my head and onto the page.  Thats where this little Friday Quickfic came from.

I was thinking about silly writing prompts and, having watched the epsiode of ‘Lewis’ which involves Lewis having a bad back, forcing him to buy an orthopedic mattress, I wondered if I could get anything out of ‘orthopedic mattress’ as a prompt.

I know, I know.

Its a bit obvious, right?

Anyway, I hope it makes you laugh.  You can read it here, at AO3.

Happy Creating,

EF

New Fiction: The Groupie Situation

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Laurence Fox

One of my writing goals for this summer is to clear the decks of as many of the half-finished stories lurking in my computer files as I can.  I’ve got three or four outstanding Lewis stories hanging about, and since I have a quiet week ahead of me this week, I’m hoping to tinker with them to the point of some form of completeness.

‘The Groupie Situation’ is one I’ve been working on since Laurence Fox started touring with his latest album. I’d been thinking about a story I’d heard of Japanese fans having his lyrics tattooed on their arms, which seemed a bit extreme to me.  I wondered what he must think of that.  And thus this story was born.  And I’ve been playing with it ever since.

I have to admit when I was typing out the synopsis, I suddenly started having qualms about publishing it.  It talks about a woman having an obsessive and paranoid mental illness, after all, and I reckon some people will criticise me for making sweeping generalisations, not least about women.

There will also be those who will criticise my (potentially inaccurate) depiction of medical procedures.  That always happens.

I’m not a doctor.  I don’t want to be a doctor.  I don’t think its necessary to exhaustively research a little story’s details to the point of knowing what size needle a stitch is made with.  The point is to paint an impression for the reader.  A few details should tell them all they need to conjure up a treatment room, whether from their own experience or from TV medical dramas. But any more than that?  No.  Its just a fanfic, after all.

I’ve also decided not to publish on Fanfiction.net anymore.  I’ve had such mindless trolling there, its just not worth it.

I’m putting this fic out in spite of my fears of criticism.

Its a brave act to publish any work of art.  Especially when you are feeling vulnerable.  But I’m increasingly of the opinion that this is my Truth, and I intend to Speak it.  I believe, trust and hope that there will be others out there who will enjoy it in the spirit in which it was created.  I hope you are one of them.

You can read ‘The Groupie Situation’ here at AO3.

Happy Creating,

EF

New Fiction: Giraffe in Lipstick

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Its the usual thing.  Getting out of my own way.

I don’t have writers block.  I never have a paucity of stories whirling in my head.  Usually I have four or five.

No, the problem I have is getting out of my own way to write them down.  Lately I have taken to opening random unfinished stories in my fanfic files and finishing them off, just for the sake of releasing some creative steam.

‘Giraffe in Lipstick’ is the product of one afternoon’s wrestling with the brick wall I had built around my muse.  I wrote the start of it last year, but then it sat there, gathering digital dust, until the other day I found it, re-read it, and the second half just popped into my head.  Its silly and thin, but I think its fun, and I hope you’ll enjoy it.

You can find it here at Ao3, and here at ff.net.

Happy creating,

EF

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New Fiction: Two Turtle Doves

Inspektor Lewis (Kevin Whately) und sein Kollege Sergeant Hathaway (Laurence Fox) fragen sich, wie ein Mord an einem Oxforder Professor mit der Staatssicherheit der ehemaligen DDR zusammen hŠngen kšnnte. Honorarfrei - nur fŸr diese Sendung bei Nennung ZDF und Robert Day

Kevin Whately as  Lewis and Laurence Fox as Hathaway in ITV’s drame ‘Lewis’.

I’ve been ridiculously obsessed with wingfics lately, most particularly with the exceptional story, ‘Jacob and the Angel’ by ComplicatedLight.

This is a little morsel I created, inspired by that fic.

“He’d kept his secret so long.  Nursed it like a baby.  He’d come to hate having to lie to Lewis.  The man was his friend.  More than a friend.  The man who knew him better than anybody ever had, or ever would.  James was under no illusions about his feelings for his boss, even though he knew they could never be reciprocated.  He knew that time, and what had been mostly his own mistakes, had strengthened the tie between them to tempered steel.  No matter how strong it might be, though, there were some things that could not be overlooked.  He had lied to Lewis.  Even if it was by omission, it was still a lie.  And he knew that Lewis would be deeply wounded to realise that James had not shared with him this, his last, his deepest secret.”

To read ‘Two Turtle Doves’ click here for AO3, and here for FF.net.

Happy Creating,

EF

New Fiction: A Kind of Proof

908820_originalI’ve been going through what has turned out to be quite a substantial backlog of unpublished stories, and I thought I’d share this little bit of fluff with you today.  I wrote it in response to the debate in our household surrounding the commercialisation of particular holidays, specifically Valentine’s Day.  I hope you like it.

Dear James,

I’m not much good at this sort of thing, as you know. You’d probably have a poem on the tip of your tongue to say just the right thing. The best I can do is this:

You’ve made me happier than I ever dreamt it was possible to be again.

So this year, will you make a miserable old bugger happy and be my Valentine?”

You can read ‘A Kind of Proof’ here at AO3, or here at FF.net.

Happy reading,

EF

 

Writing is not a Performance Art

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Sometimes, we write what we most need to hear.  And this is one of those moments.  So pull up a chair and a cup of coffee, because I have something I want to tell you that I need to hear:

A friend was publishing a new story in a new fandom. The fact that she was not getting the readership and the number of comments she wanted was causing her great distress. Her predicament got me thinking.

So often as artists, we base our self-esteem, our value of our own work, on what other people think. The family who surround me, for example, do not view me as a ‘proper’ writer because my work does not come neatly packaged between two cardboard rectangles with the name of a reputable publisher stamped on the back. I do not make money from my work. Therefore I do not ‘work’, and I am not a ‘proper’ writer. I am not a stranger to the humiliation of being told at a family dinner to move over because: ‘There’s a writer at the table’, when another relative, a talented journalist (whose work I greatly admire and whose success I happily delight in, I should point out) arrives to sit down.

At our recent writing retreat, my fellow writers and I had a long and animated discussion about the ever-present problem of how other people react when we tell them what we do. One friend told the horrible anecdote of an acquaintance’s response to the news that she was a writer – ‘Never mind, I’m sure you can get a job at Tesco!’

(I know, right?)

I suspect that writers are second only to actors in the low opinion the public has of our earning power. Either you’re Benedict Cumberbatch or you’re unemployed. This completely ignores the thousands of jobbing actors who make a reasonable, if somewhat precarious, living doing low profile but necessary jobs in voice-overs, radio, small TV parts and rep. Indeed, Benedict Cumberbatch has spent a substantial proportion of his career doing exactly that. (If you watch and listen carefully, you’ll see and hear him pop up all over the place!)

The point I am trying to make is that creative people don’t do it for the money. And if you think that, you have missed the whole point.

Modern society, where success in any endeavour is measured in filthy lucre and TV appearances, clearly has failed to read the memo.

Another friend, who has been a visual artist as well as a writer all her working life, which I suspect helps, responds to the dreaded question about earnings thus: “I don’t do it for the money. I do it because it keeps me sane.”

And that is the point.

Writing is not a performance art.

At least, fiction is not. (Journalism obviously is, and I’m still on the fence about poetry!)

Writing is not about the number of comments or reviews you get.  Its not about the number of ‘shares’ on Tumblr.  Its not about the number of hits you get in a day.  Its not about being published by Harper and Collins, or getting an agent from a top agency, or being on an arts programme on BBC4, or giving author readings, or getting your picture in the paper,  or winning the Booker Prize, or making the bestseller lists on Amazon or the Sunday Times, or getting a three book deal, or selling your script to Warners and getting a theme park made out of your book, or making £100k a year.

Writing is not about how many people like you.  Its not about applause.

Writing is about making stories.

We do it because we have to. Because we have a compulsion to tell our stories.

I am delighted to tell you that my fanfiction friend soldiered on against the tide with writing and publishing her new fanwork. Over time she accumulated a substantial following, but more importantly has rejoiced in an explosion of creativity, producing more works and excelling in other art forms as a result.  And I’m thrilled for her.  She is going through a renaissance of creativity because she refused to give up.

“How people receive your gifts is none of your business. You were given a unique set of gifts, life experiences, and passions. Your only job is to share them.”

Rebecca Campbell, ‘Light is the New Black’

When it comes down to it, it does not matter whether family notice that I get over 100 readers a day, a tally that most conventionally published writers could only dream of. (I’m the only person who is hung up about that, after all!)  It does not matter whether they read my work. (Actually, I’m quite glad they don’t!) It does not matter whether they like it. It does not matter whether they think I am an idiot not to charge for it. It does not matter how much I earn or don’t earn, or what other people think of that sum. It really doesn’t matter what people I meet at dinner parties think when I tell them what I do.

And really, it doesn’t matter what my audience thinks either.

The point is to make the art.

And to keep making the art.

To keep on speaking my truth.

Because the people who need to hear that truth will find me. And the rest don’t matter.

Or, as Elizabeth Gilbert puts it so beautifully:

“If people don’t like what you’re creating, just smile at them sweetly and tell them to GO MAKE THEIR OWN FUCKING ART!”

Happy creating,

EF