"And the Joys We Share as We Tarry There..."

[psalm_onethirtyone]

Issue: I think I could start to write fic with a slightly higher rating. That is to say, most of my slash is v. fluffy and G-ish right now, but I think if I wanted to, I could do more with it.

Difficulty: Mum beta-reads all my fic. More than that, she expects to read my fic, because I've been showing it to her for ages. I have, I confess, hidden certain fics from her (such as the Courfeyrac/Combeferre/Feuilly menage a trois *g*) in the past, but she has a slightly unpleasant way of finding things I'd rather she didn't ("Synonyms"). And I would have to start actually attacking other people for beta-reading, which I am loath to do.

What shall I do?

I suppose in the long run there's nothing wrong with G-ish slash, but Other People would perhaps beg to differ, and I am sometimes frustrated at my limits, due to their being largely because of my worry over bothering Mum (sparklychibi will, perhaps, understand this).

Hm.

Comments

[petronelle.livejournal.com]

The value of a story is not in whether it has wild sex in it or not. If you write something that narratively needs wild sex -- which I don't see that you have -- then perhaps the lack thereof will impoverish it. If you write things where that is simply not a key element, then that's all right. Your stories also tend not to have rodeos, crop circles, instructions on how to make espresso, or described performance art. They do not need these things because that's simply not what you're writing about.

On the other hand, if you wanted to write a story about espresso and your mom didn't think you were old enough to make coffee, you could hand her a version that said:

"Combeferre went into the café, ordered a drink, and sat down to read."

And if you knew someone who knew about coffee, you could send her the version that said:

"Combeferre went into the café and breathed deeply of the rich scent of coffee that permeated the air. His eyelids were heavy with the weight of studying, as if all the books he'd read that night were stacked atop his head. The waitress said, 'Can I help you, m'sieur?' and he felt for the change in his pocket.

'Yes, please. I would like a café au lait.' (Mind you, I would complain of this because it is gratuitous nontranslation, but this is an example.)

'Of course, m'sieur.'

He leaned on a table while she poured him a cup of coffee with a little milk, then took it from her, his hands shaking. 'Thank you.'

He hardly heard her 'You're welcome,' for his senses were overwhelmed by the bitter, complex flavor. He fought to savor it and could not hold himself back; his exhausted tissues craved the sharp ambrosia. In a minute, the cup was empty, and he set it down, smiling at her with a slight foam of milk on his upper lip. 'Could I have another cup?'

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

Thank you. Because that makes me feel a lot better about it, really. I was especially afraid that all the fluffyomg might bother you.

Also, you're quite right, and actually, on a few of my LXG fics, I've edited Hyde-ish cursing for the version Mum reads, and replaced the original words afterward.

Also, that is the most gorgeous, hot kauphyluv scene I have ever read. <3