The 1st Annual Great Purgatory Mash-Up

[Blondchen]

If you've ever lurked, posted, skimmed, stalked or flamed on the R&D "no news is no news purgatory" thread (aka "Purgatory") you'll know what the hell I'm talking about here. If you haven't checked out our lovely thread, fear not! This Mash-Up should still be entertaining.

Basically, someone had the idea of taking short scenes from our writing (250-350 words) and having another member of Purgatory anonymously extend the scene by an additional 250-350 words. No one knows whose excerpt they are working with (well, except for moi, but I ain't telling.)

The idea was for the extender to work on the scene, taking from it whatever grabbed them about the writing and to try and guess where the scene might be going. A great exercise for both the original author and the piggybacking author.

I'll be posting these scenes here, probably at the rate of one per day, starting Sunday night. Please feel free to comment on them, guess who both authors might be, talk about what you liked or didn't like, differences in styles, etc. etc. etc. Before I post the next excerpt, I'll reveal who each of the authors were.

Sound good? Awesome. See you Sunday!

EDIT

The Results (in no particular order):
Firedrake mashed Redzilla
Sunna mashed Inkwench
Karen mashed Sistermorphine
Lara mashed Teriann
Branwyn mashed Karen
Inkwench mashed Firedrake
JustMe mashed Parametric
Irysangel mashed Alias Octavia
Jy'lenn mashed Tasmin
JuneLuv mashed Jy'lenn
Tasmin mashed Lara
Blondchen mashed Maui Author and JuneLuv
Teriann mashed Irysangel
Cuteshoes mashed Blondchen
Maui Author mashed Branwyn
Sistermorphine mashed Rose
Alias Octavia mashed Houndrat
Parametric mashed Cuteshoes
Redzilla mashed Sunna
Houndrat mashed Tasha

[Lara]

So excited! Thanks for doing this Ms. Blondchen!

[Branwyn]

I'll be without internet until Tuesday. Going to Salem.
This should be fun!

[Karen Duvall]

Should be veeeerrrrry eenteresting.

[Blondchen]

Here we go! There are 21 of these all together and just like when I assigned them, I'm pulling random numbers to post them. Lucky #7 is first up!

You'll see the break where the one writer left off and the other picked up. It's not meant to be a scene break. After a day or so, I'll post who the two authors were, and then the original author is free to post the "real" continuation of the scene. Sound good?

Ok. Let the fun begin!

~~~~~

Across the graveyard we went, past the lonely quarters of the deceased. Tombs stood as reminders of what once was. He yanked me around a tall moss covered tree. Jack’s voice carried my name across the warm night air, but I couldn’t answer. Freakin’ great. No way I would be able to explain my disappearance—if I survived. As the beast carried me away from the group, his helper loped beside us in the darkness, nothing more than a shadow in the night. The faces of my assailants weren’t visible in the murky corner of the graveyard, but I felt the fuzz on my attackers paw. The back of my legs scrapped against the concrete sidewalk. Thank goodness, I wore jeans. It still burned, though.

My natural instincts took over, my eyes changed, I felt the transformation taking place, and fur rapidly covered my body. Claws pointed from the tips of my fingers, the points of which were pink: remnants from the manicure of my human nails. I continued struggling as he pulled me farther away. Kicking and pushing, nothing worked. His hold on me felt like a vice grip squeezing as tightly as possible. Where were they taking me? Would they kill me right there in the graveyard? They laughed, mocking me. No doubt they were proud of their feat. My claws gouged at his paws—if only I could reach his head, I’d gouge his eyes out.

As the other one lumbered along beside us, he slipped on a stray rock distracting my captor. I took that opportunity to break free from the stinky fiend holding me. His breath smelled as if he’d eaten a rotten tuna sandwich and chased it with a tall glass of buttermilk. I shoved the beast until he was forced to release his grasp, then I lurched forward, falling. My body hit the ground with a thud, but I quickly righted myself. My claws held a death grip on my purse—I couldn’t lose it. Soon my transformation would be complete, so I draped the bag around my neck while I still could.

#

The transformation was miserable, left me aching as always, but at last I had an advantage. The idiots in front of me had no idea what these pink claws were capable of. Less concerned now with escaping with my life, I remembered Jack, still calling my name into the darkness. How to tell him not to worry? But that would have to wait: the two beasts were upright once more, disoriented but beginning to narrow their focus on me again.

I darted behind a headstone. I knew - as smart girls know cretins - how they would come after me. I could almost see them silently agreeing, sharing a self-satisfied wink. Sure enough, they quietly (what they thought was quietly) attempted to ambush me from either side of the tomb, giving me a grand opportunity to grab the scruffs of both their necks and bash their heads together. They toppled and I jumped out of the way - about eight feet into the air: I forgot my own strength when I transformed, sometimes - as they collapsed against the headstone, which shifted in the warm, wet earth. I stepped over them to look at the front of it, mouthed an apology to Abigail Parkinson (Beloved Wife and Mother), and then started putting as much distance as possible between me and the two thugs passed out on the ground.

From the shelter of a copse of trees, I looked up at the moon, the stupid moon that kept me from Jack. What time was it? How much longer would I have to wait - how much longer would he wait before he gave up on me and left? Did he think I was already dead? I sat cross-legged on the leafy ground, resenting my ruined jeans and my ruined top and my ruined freaking manicure. The purse - my clawed hands flew to my neck. Yeah, the purse was ruined too. That was a bummer. But the contents were safe. "Bright side, bright side..." I whispered to myself, looking up at the moon again. Even if the filth in the graveyard stayed unconscious, it was going to be a long night.

[Parametric]

I am so freaking good.

I matched this particular sentence structure:

No way I would be able to explain my disappearance—if I survived.
My claws gouged at his paws—if only I could reach his head, I’d gouge his eyes out.
My claws held a death grip on my purse—I couldn’t lose it.

It's not big, but three times in 350 words is pretty frequent. Only houndrat, inkwench and justme used this structure in their teasers: it's not slangy enough for houndrat, it doesn't read like inkwench, but it definitely matches justme.

[firedrake]

Originally Posted by Parametric

I am so freaking good.

I matched this particular sentence structure:

No way I would be able to explain my disappearance—if I survived.
My claws gouged at his paws—if only I could reach his head, I’d gouge his eyes out.
My claws held a death grip on my purse—I couldn’t lose it.

It's not big, but three times in 350 words is pretty frequent. Only houndrat, inkwench and justme used this structure in their teasers: it's not slangy enough for houndrat, it doesn't read like inkwench, but it definitely matches justme.

I am in awe of your punctuation tracking awesomeness

[Redzilla]

All bow down to Para's mad detective skillz.

[suki]

Para is the queen of the mash-up detecting.

~suki

[justme]

Originally Posted by Blondchen

Here we go! There are 21 of these all together and just like when I assigned them, I'm pulling random numbers to post them. Lucky #7 is first up!

You'll see the break where the one writer left off and the other picked up. It's not meant to be a scene break. After a day or so, I'll post who the two authors were, and then the original author is free to post the "real" continuation of the scene. Sound good?

Ok. Let the fun begin!

~~~~~

Across the graveyard we went, past the lonely quarters of the deceased. Tombs stood as reminders of what once was. He yanked me around a tall moss covered tree. Jack’s voice carried my name across the warm night air, but I couldn’t answer. Freakin’ great. No way I would be able to explain my disappearance—if I survived. As the beast carried me away from the group, his helper loped beside us in the darkness, nothing more than a shadow in the night. The faces of my assailants weren’t visible in the murky corner of the graveyard, but I felt the fuzz on my attackers paw. The back of my legs scrapped against the concrete sidewalk. Thank goodness, I wore jeans. It still burned, though.

My natural instincts took over, my eyes changed, I felt the transformation taking place, and fur rapidly covered my body. Claws pointed from the tips of my fingers, the points of which were pink: remnants from the manicure of my human nails. I continued struggling as he pulled me farther away. Kicking and pushing, nothing worked. His hold on me felt like a vice grip squeezing as tightly as possible. Where were they taking me? Would they kill me right there in the graveyard? They laughed, mocking me. No doubt they were proud of their feat. My claws gouged at his paws—if only I could reach his head, I’d gouge his eyes out.

As the other one lumbered along beside us, he slipped on a stray rock distracting my captor. I took that opportunity to break free from the stinky fiend holding me. His breath smelled as if he’d eaten a rotten tuna sandwich and chased it with a tall glass of buttermilk. I shoved the beast until he was forced to release his grasp, then I lurched forward, falling. My body hit the ground with a thud, but I quickly righted myself. My claws held a death grip on my purse—I couldn’t lose it. Soon my transformation would be complete, so I draped the bag around my neck while I still could.

#

The transformation was miserable, left me aching as always, but at last I had an advantage. The idiots in front of me had no idea what these pink claws were capable of. Less concerned now with escaping with my life, I remembered Jack, still calling my name into the darkness. How to tell him not to worry? But that would have to wait: the two beasts were upright once more, disoriented but beginning to narrow their focus on me again.

I darted behind a headstone. I knew - as smart girls know cretins - how they would come after me. I could almost see them silently agreeing, sharing a self-satisfied wink. Sure enough, they quietly (what they thought was quietly) attempted to ambush me from either side of the tomb, giving me a grand opportunity to grab the scruffs of both their necks and bash their heads together. They toppled and I jumped out of the way - about eight feet into the air: I forgot my own strength when I transformed, sometimes - as they collapsed against the headstone, which shifted in the warm, wet earth. I stepped over them to look at the front of it, mouthed an apology to Abigail Parkinson (Beloved Wife and Mother), and then started putting as much distance as possible between me and the two thugs passed out on the ground.

From the shelter of a copse of trees, I looked up at the moon, the stupid moon that kept me from Jack. What time was it? How much longer would I have to wait - how much longer would he wait before he gave up on me and left? Did he think I was already dead? I sat cross-legged on the leafy ground, resenting my ruined jeans and my ruined top and my ruined freaking manicure. The purse - my clawed hands flew to my neck. Yeah, the purse was ruined too. That was a bummer. But the contents were safe. "Bright side, bright side..." I whispered to myself, looking up at the moon again. Even if the filth in the graveyard stayed unconscious, it was going to be a long night.

Sister did a fantastic job! It's funny because I mention a name on a gravestone earlier in the scene. Strange. Anyway, here's the next 250 words.

I turned to face my attackers. They shifted to the left. The moonlight filtered through the trees, giving me a full view of their repulsive faces. Both bared their long, razor sharp, white fangs, titled their heads back and let out a ferocious howl. Jack’s voice echoed in the distance, urgency in his shouting—I had to hide from him. If he discovered us, he’d think more wild dogs were on the loose. Except for one teeny, tiny problem: one of the dogs would be wearing jeans and a silky white blouse. There had been no time to strip down. My clothes were ruined. One of the beasts stepped closer, exposing his fangs in a mocking smile. He licked his lips as if to say I’d be tasty even without ketchup.

Jack’s voice neared—I was running out of time. Letting out a growl, I slashed my claws across the front of my attacker’s face before he thought twice of pouncing. He fell back. How would I fight two? Without a lot of options, I took off in a lope to escape them. Both rushed behind me, clipping at my feet. I didn’t know how long I could keep up the pace. The whole disgusting scenario should be a lesson to me: fit visits to the gym into my schedule more often. Oh, and don’t bother dating—it never works out!

“Get away from me, you dirty bastards!” I huffed with undisguised anger. Luckily, in werewolf form we retained our ability to speak as humans, since we kept some human features.

[Irysangel]

I liked it! Now I'm trying to remember who writes about shifters.

I thought it was interesting because I felt the second person has a slightly 'younger' feeling vibe to the piece.

If I had to critique (I can't turn it off! I'm editing! I'm sorry!) I would say that I'd prefer a little bit more 'white space' in my reads - to break up the action. There's a nice juicy action bit in the 2nd paragraph of each one and it would have more oomph if it was separate or staggered out.

This definitely opened us up with a bang, though. Nice job to writer #2 - you really did a great job continuing the first piece!

[Blondchen]

I thought Author #2 did a great job picking up on the style of the Author #1. And I love the way #2 was able to bring in this sense of the narrator's desperate need to get back to Jack. While I agree with the Irys that the second half sounds younger, if I was just reading through this, I'd totally think it was the same author!

I doubt I did that with my own continuation. Oops! Outted meself. Yes, this one was not me.

But who do you think #2 and #1 are?????

[firedrake]

That was a pretty seamless transition between the two writers. The same sense of pace and I liked the little touch of humor in the second piece,e.g. the apology to Abigail Parkinson (Beloved Wife and Mother).

I have no idea who the writers are!!!

[Parametric]

I have this twitchy feeling that #1 might be Mythica. I know it's not her Roman shapeshifter WIP or the project that's on sub, but it's pinging my radar.

[sunna]

Still thinking on #1 --I can't remember the list of people writing shifter stories-- but I keep thinking of Jen's teasers when I read #2.

Whoever it is, they did a great job matching the voice up, and the pacing, right down to sentence structure.

[Parametric]

Is there a chance we could have a list of writers who participated? I think that would make it easier to link everyone up.

[Blondchen]

Originally Posted by Parametric

Is there a chance we could have a list of writers who participated? I think that would make it easier to link everyone up.

Ok. I added it to Post #1 in this thread!

[Irysangel]

Oh yes - a list of participants would be nice, so we can guess!

[Parametric]

I think #2 is using distinctive sentence structures - with lots of dashes - and: semi-colons and (parentheses). I don't see those in Jen's teasers. I can think of a lot of people it's not, but still figuring out who it is.

[Parametric]

Gah! Mythica isn't even playing. I suck.

[sunna]

Originally Posted by Parametric

Gah! Mythica isn't even playing. I suck.

As do I: Jen isn't either.

[suki]

No guesses, and I agree that the second writer did a great job of meshing tone and story with the first so that it would be a clean continuation. But what struck me the most was how the two writers viewed the shift differently.

In the first I was left a little wanting for a description of how the shift felt - I got the visual, but got the sense the shift was easy and comfortable. But there's more description of pretty much everything else than how it actually feels to shift. So I got the impression shifting is as easy as blinking - no discomfort or drama at all.

But the second writer started off with saying the shift was uncomfortable and that changes the character a little for me, because she welcomed the shift despite the pain.

Those kind of sensory details are what really draw me into a story. Both writers wrote the character as welcoming the shift, but with a little bit of description of the shift as unpleasant feeling, the second part took on a slightly different tone.

Interesting...

~suki

[hope101]

I haven't been around long enough to speak with any confidence, but I think Houndrat's number 2.

And now I wish I'd played. This is really cool.

[ink wench]

Ooh, interesting. Gotta agree with whoever else said #2 sounded younger, although the transition is pretty darn good. I think it's the extra dashes and parens that give it a younger, more distractable voice.

I haven't the faintest idea who wrote either piece, just guesses as to who didn't write them. Now, does the fact that I'm mentioning guessing at all give away that I didn't write one of them? Or is it a red herring because I did? Hmm....

[justme]

I think #2 is cuteshoes.