Entering the room, Ana saw Christian lying on the bed, his shirt open, revealing the taut muscular chest. Meanwhile Mrs. Jones ministered to him. His face was twisted in pain as the housekeeper ripped his breaches from hip to knee in a sudden movement. Ana gasped as Christian writhed.
“Aaarrggghhh!” Christian’s head was tossed back against the pillow, his face sticky with sweat. The veins of his neck stood out as he gritted his teeth against the pain. Mrs. Jones glanced over her shoulder as Ana moved closer to the bed, then returned to what she was doing. Christian’s thigh was exposed showing a large angry gash high up on his outer leg. The flow of blood had already been stemmed and Mrs. Jones was cleaning the wound and applying a salve.
“What on earth?” Ana’s first instinct was to cover her mouth and clutch at her breast. She did not easily faint at the sight of blood but the shock of seeing Christian in so much pain was unbearable. His glazed eyes focused and fixed on hers and her next impulse was to run to his side and hold him. Just as she was about to do exactly that, he yelled.
“Get her out of here.” It took a moment for Ana to realize that Christian was talking about her. She looked from Mrs. Jones to Taylor. Nobody moved. “Taylor! Get her out!”
Nearly there, people. One more sleep!
Originally posted on 50 Shades Movie Fansite:
When E L James posted the original version of Fifty Shades of Grey online as fanfiction, under a different title, chapter by chapter, we were there! We were subscribed to the story and received an email stating there was a new update. As readers who were hooked on the story, (don’t tell our bosses) when that update alert came through, we stopped what we were doing in most cases to read the new chapter and to find out what our dear Fifty Shades would do next.
Publishing a story via this medium allowed a certain amount of freedom for the author and a completely different reading experience than we were used to with reading books! I fondly remember the chapter with the game of pool. The chapter was set up at that point that the bet was made, but we didn’t know who would win. At the end of the…
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A really terrific editorial on mediocrity. I have stumbled across this Fanfic-themed blog and I have to say, it is now a favorite. Enjoy, but be warned, you might not like it! ;)
Keeping fan fiction in perspective. I have read a number of comments in social media where authors question the value of fan fiction as a practice. This is a nice succinct outline of what it is, what it shouldn’t be and how to keep it real.
Originally posted on Sniffer:
What is Fan Fiction?
Fan fiction can be defined with one simple phrase: “What if . . .”
What if Elsa fell in love with Olaf?
What if Captain America used time travel so he could go back and have his date?
What if Bilbo found Yoda in Mirkwood?
Fan fiction explores the “what if” questions of popular culture. Sometimes, a two-hour movie or a 300 page book isn’t enough for people. They go and write out extra scenes that never happened (and most often were never intended to happen), or even go so far as writing a completely new story set the same world.
Fan fiction has many wonderful benefits, but also has a sinister side that can easily turn what is good into what is hideous.
Why might writing fan fiction be a good thing?
For aspiring writers who want to tell their own stories, writing…
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“Are you enjoying your visit to Faversham?” Mrs Jones looked like she knew the answer already. Somehow Ana was going to have to pick the woman’s brains regarding the strange attitudes she had encountered. Mrs Jones didn’t pause for Ana’s answer but picked up the cup and carefully raised it to her lips.
The murmur of voices had resumed enough for Ana to be sure that they could not be overheard. “Yes. The town is very pretty and surprisingly busy.” She refused to say anything else about the strange attitudes that she sensed. Not yet, anyway.
“The bastard Captain’s new mistress, no doubt.” Two women were seated at the table adjacent to Ana’s. They were smartly, if somewhat unfashionably attired, so she was sure that they must be wives of important local landowners or businessmen. Both women paused their cups at their lips, as they leaned in to talk in raised whispers. “I hear she was a servant. Rising above her station, thinking to marry the son of a Duke. A failed naval captain, if you please. She’ll be another slut, like the others. Probably leave her brats all over the countryside and run back to the city. More for his collection of waifs and strays. Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s foreign, like the others.”