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WIPpet Wednesday - TroySo, I’m thinking I was going through one of my “emulate Dickens” phases when I was writing this. I love the way he described characters.  I know a lot of people don’t like him because they consider him wordy, and yeah, sometimes, but his characters are so well drawn, they’re consistently presented in more or less the same way regardless of who’s producing the adaptation. It’s genius, I tell you.

Not so much when I try to copy the method. Anyway, here’s someone new. There are lots of WIPpeteers, so do not despair as I lay out my lengthy first draft, backstory heavy, word-encumbered WIPpets for a while. There are plenty of lovely, action and/or emotion packed WIPpets just waiting to be read. I won’t be offended in the least if you pop on over to read those instead. :-) Better yet, join our ranks. Be sure to thank K.L. Schwengel for hosting.

The math today: November is the eleventh month. Hence, I took one of the ones from eleven to get one paragraph.

Another TrueBlue bobbed lightly nearby the one Troy picked out as leader. He was young. Too young, Troy thought. He didn’t shave, that much was clear, but the scraggly excuses for whiskers poking out from his chin could not have belonged to a boy more than fourteen, seventeen tops, if he lagged a bit in his development. His brown hair was cut in one of the newer fashions, short on top and long in back. Troy heard it was supposed to minimize embarrassing hair-in-the-eyes moments, a problem he never encountered himself, as shaving his head was part of his daily routine, only in his case, it had to do with aquadynamics, not impressing fems. In spite of the young TrueBlue’s current gangly appearance, faint yellow striping and orange tipping promised a fetching appearance in the future, if he ever got any exercise. The boy tapped on a small device, occasionally jerking his arms up or down, as if he were trying to move something on the screen with his whole body rather than using the buttons. Troy decided he was the Tech expert. It wasn’t uncommon for them to be very young. Troy sighed inwardly, bemoaning the twists of fate that would gift a young male with a tail pattern to melt hearts and then grant him the ability to do all his work from a bubble spring. What a waste.


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WIPpet Wednesday - Troy The world-building and backstory ensues. It’s okay if you want to groan aloud. I’d like it if a few of you stuck around to comment, but I honestly won’t blame you if you read that first sentence and wanted to go hide under your bed. Especially since, looking back at this older writing, I have to admit, it’s baaaaaad. *shudders*

But, it’s what I got for now.

Much love and respect to the Grand Mistress of the WIPpeteers, KL Schwengel. Give her flowers and puppies, chocolate and enticing male characters. (Unlike Troy. Don’t give her Troy.)

Okay, so, it’s the 19th. I’m giving you 2 paragraphs, one of which is gaggably long. (Told you it was bad. Don’t worry. I’ll start cleaning it up after Nano.) Here’s how I got the 2:  1 + 9 = 20, 2 + 0 = 2. Voila!

*gets ready to copy and paste*

*reads it over*

*cringes and groans*

Sorry, everyone, this is going to be painful.

Promptly at 11:26, Troy glided into the anteroom of the General’s office. Six other males sized him up while he sized them up. Three of them were blue Tritons, like himself. Two were Ichthyocentaurs and one was an Ichthyoleo. Troy guessed the three other TrueBlues made up the strategical part of the team, while the Icks were along for some other purpose he wouldn’t understand until he knew what the mission was.

One of the males, a blue Triton, like himself, held so perfectly still, arms crossed across his chest, Troy envied his gill-control. Troy spent an hour of everyday he didn’t have a mission trying to master the technique for moving water past his gills without appearing to. He still needed to swish his tail at least once a minute, though, while this TrueBlue barely twitched. Troy looked him over, quickly but thoroughly. He seemed to be several years older than Troy, which gave Troy some comfort regarding the gill-control issue, but Troy could not make a closer guess than somewhere in his late thirties to early forties without studying the man for too long. His tail was mottled in a similar pattern to Troy’s, but with red and blue, instead of black and blue. His red fins were tipped with a deep purple that almost looked black. Troy wondered what color they turned when this fellow grew angry. The yellow tips on his own black fins turned a bright orange and it seemed unlikely that such a deep color as this other Triton sported could get much deeper. As with all male Tritons, his eyes were a lighter shade of his tail tips, a violet Troy felt sure melted every fem the guy deigned to grace with his gaze. He wore his brown hair longer than most so that it reached his shoulder blades, and braided a small strand near his right temple. A glint in his eye told Troy they already understood one another. This male would be their leader.

In my defense, this would have been written furiously fast at the beginning of Nano. Quite possibly between midnight and two A.M. after getting up early the morning before, helping out with Harvest Festival the whole day, and settling four candy-fied children into bed.

Random video to make up for that awful writing.


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