"Oh
PLEASE: The Critique"
or,
How a Potentially Good Author Went Astray
by the Wicked Witch
of the Yukon
Yukon
had a hard time deciding which aspect of this story creeped her out the most:
Dana Scully's sexually-tinged abuse at the hands of her brother Bill, the poor
research, or the insanely bad characterization of Mulder and Scully.
Yukon
is prepared to forgive this author for some of the choppy and just-plain
uninteresting writing. Everybody
has to start somewhere. And there
are enough seeds of good characterization and wit to demonstrate that this
author has some promise. Yukon is
pleased about this. Most of the
other authors she's critiqued have been Hopeless Causes. You, Annette, and Susan
F., are the only two on my hit list who are redeemable.
So
pay attention to this and redeem yourself.
You could be good.
Again,
Beta is crucial. A good critical
beta reader could have helped this enormously.
Our Witchy offer still stands: If you need beta, we will help you find
one, or beta your work ourselves, time permitting.
One of our goals is not to be mean, it's to improve the overall quality
of the writing in this community. Meanness
just happens to be the manner in which we do it.
WWY
TITLE:
Not Tonight (Or EVER)
AUTHOR:
Annette Gisby
EMAIL:
[email protected]
CATEGORY:
V, S Mulder/Scully UST, angst.
RATING:
R for language and subject matter.
CONTENT:
Child abuse, rape.
ARCHIVE:
Gossamer, spooky's, ephemeral etc. anywhere else as long as my name etc is
attached.
DISCLAIMER:
Not mine, etc, etc. (Whew,
etc, etc.)
AUTHOR'S
NOTES at end
I
couldn't believe I was actually doing this. How low I was prepared to sink. I
was sitting in Scully's apartment in the dark. Waiting.
Waiting for her. What's so wrong with that, you might ask? The reason was
simple. Scully didn't know I was here and she didn't want me here.
(Good start.
Makes you wonder what's going on and creates some good suspense.
This was in character.)
She
made it perfectly clear that afternoon when she told me all about this wonderful
man she was seeing. Tonight was their fifth date.
Scully had confided in me that tonight was the night. (And
we go astray already. Scully
confiding in Mulder about her sex life? Oh PLEASE.)
Sometimes I wished she didn't see me as such a friend. I didn't want to
know all the details. (Exactly.
He didn't want to know and she would know that.
The entire story starts on a faulty assumption.)
So
that's why I was there. I had to stop them. Just the thought of her with some
other man eade ("made".
Watch those typos.) me want to kill somebody. Preferably him.
*Before* he got into bed with Scully. (Because
of course Mulder always behaves like a Neanderthal when Scully is around other
men? No, Mulder would step aside, reluctantly.
He might be sad about it, but he'd be respectful.
He'd want to commit murder? Oh PLEASE 2.)
I
didn't know how long I'd been waiting, I couldn't see the clock from where I was
sitting, but I didn't want to move. I was on a chair right in front of the door
so that the first thing she would see when she came in was me. Hopefully my
presence alone would be enough to send loverboy packing, but if not, there's
always my gun. (Oh PLEASE 3.
See, we could have accepted that little bit of ranting in the prior
paragraph as hyperbole if it hadn't
been reinforced here. Wrong.)
The
key turned in the lock and I tensed. A shadow was illuminated from the light in
the hallway. (Shadows can't be illuminated, or else
they'd cease being shadows. The use
of the passive voice is bad too.) A
small shadow. Alone.
Scully
flicked on the lights and almost jumped when she saw me.
(She almost jumped?
How is this accomplished from someone else's POV?)
"Mulder!
What the hell are you doing here?" Her voice was strange, strained almost
and I saw tracks of tears on her cheeks. I was out of the chair in an instant.
No-one ("No one") hurts my Scully
and gets away with it.
"What
did he do?" I demanded, my hand automatically going for my gun.
(Oh PLEASE 4.)
"Nothing,
Mulder. He didn't do anything. I'm fine. So, what are you doing here?"
"I
was waiting for you." (Um duh.)
That
earned me a raised eyebrow. (You
said it, girlfriend.)
"You
were waiting for me? Even after what I told you about tonight? That's low,
Mulder, even for you. You're determined to ruin any relationship I might have,
aren't you?" (Why? What has he done to ruin any
other relationships she's had? Jerse was an out-of-town fling.
Mulder had nothing to do with it. Willis
was over before she even started working with Mulder.
Mulder didn't even chase off Hartwell.
Unsupported without further explanation, this was a stupid
thing for her to say.)
"Quite
a high opinion you've got of me Scully, haven't you? Is this about Ed Jerse?"
I asked in annoyance.
"Just
get out, Mulder. I can't talk to you right now." (Okay,
this is in character.)
I
headed towards (toward) the door and as I
passed her, I made a fatal mistake. I inhaled and smelled her Scullyscent. (Yukon
vomits. Oh PLEASE 5.
This is one of the most heinous fanficisms out there.
Shame on you for being so uncreative, author.
Find a new way to say it.) It filled every pore (of
what?) and I was lost. I couldn't leave her, and I paused, turning to
look at her.
She
sank to the floor in a crumpled heap and began to cry, really really cry.
(Oh PLEASE 6.) She was crying so much
her shoulders shook with the effort. I had never seen her like this before, so
open, so vulnerable. I wanted so
badly to protect her from whatever it was, but I couldn't. (Why
not? Has he even tried yet?) This was so unlike the strong Scully I knew.
(Finally, some truth.
This is indeed unlike *any* Scully we know.)
"Scully?
What is it?" I asked gently. I was afraid to know the answer, but still I
had to know.
"It's
you, Mulder. It's you."
Me?
What did I do? I was only looking out for her. But she wasn't even grateful.
(The thankless bitch. When a
man stalks her in the future, I do hope she'll be more obliging.
How rude of her to not want to have her partner hovering in the darkness
of her locked apartment when she's planning to bring home a man she says she
genuinely likes.)
"Without
you, there wouldn't be any me."
"I
don't understand," I said. "Have you been drinking?" (Wow.
This is second in insensitivity only to "Is it that time of the
month?" How rude. She's upset and emotionally vulnerable and he gets obnoxious?
Well, at least it proves there was a reason she sought love elsewhere.)
I was appalled at the thought of Scully drunk. It's more my scene than
hers.
She
didn't answer me, just went to the sink to pour herself a glass of water, her
back to me. When she turned around a gain, I was the recipient of Scully glare
patent numbet ("number") 350. (most
US patents have seven digits.) I
realised ("realized") I must have
done something really bad for her to give me that look.
(Don't worry, Mulder.
She's probably only upset because you were intent upon ruining her date
which obviously didn't work out very well.
Glad your history as a profiler is serving you so well!)
"Are
you still here?" (Good.
This is Scully.)
"What
did I do, Scully?"
"You
created me in your own image and I don't like what I see in the mirror." (Where
did this come from? Scully is never this direct. Yukon likes the observation very much, but it's something so hugely
out of the ordinary for Scully to say that it needs some build-up in order for
it to be believable.)
"What?"
"You
created me and like Frankenstein you created a monster. Before I met you, Scully
didn't exist. You created Scully and she's a monster, just like you." (Yowch.
Hope she plans to explain why she's a monster, why he's a monster, and
why this came out of her so suddenly.)
I
was stunned, but Scully hadn't even started.
"Before
Scully, there was Dana. Dana was good and kind and her family loved her. Dana
did the right thing. (Which right thing?)
Dana had no shortage of dates."
"And
Scully?" I choked out.
"Scully
is bad. She's manipulative, she's cruel. She kills people, she cuts them open
for autopsies. She chases after other monsters and little green men. She ws ("was")
abducted and had a daughter who died. She--"
(Who IS this whiner?)
"Stop!"
I cut her off, putting my hands over my ears. "I don't want to hear
anymore!" (Yes, because this is SUCH a
Mulderish thing to do. La la la, I
can't hear you. Oh PLEASE 7.)
"Why?
Don't you want to know what you've created, Mulder?"
No,
I didn't, not if what was coming out of her mouth was true.
That she thought herself to be a moster. ("monster"
Come on, PROOF READ, will you?)
She could never be a monster. I was the monster for making her feel like this. (Yay!
Self-castigating Mulder! Wee-ha! Yawn.) Why could she not tell me how she
felt? (Well,
maybe because you just told her you didn't want to hear it, you moron.)
"Would
it help if I start calling you Dana?"
"No,
it wouldn't. Dana doesn't live here anymore. That's what I've realised ("realized"
is the American spelling. And
before you over-react and call it nitpicking, just think about
it for a minute: If we were all writing about
a British show that aired in Great Britain, starring British actors playing
British characters, wouldn't you have the right to expect authors to write using
British spelling and British idioms? Of course you would.
This is an American show, about American characters, from America.
Use American spellings and idioms.) tonight."
"With
him!" I almost spat the words at her. I refused to use his name. If I
didn't use his name I could fool myself into thinking that he didn't really
exist. (Okay,
watch the show, and pay attention to the Mulder/Scully dynamic.
No,
REALLY pay attention. Notice
how almost every time she's upset about something he doesn't raise his voice?
How if something is bothering her personally, he gets tender and quiet?
That's the evidence that he cares about her, and that's why so many
authors write about the relationship. Because
it's real and supportive. He
doesn't yell at her like this, especially if she's upset. Now do you see Annette, why this response is so out of
character?)
"Yes.
With him. He kept calling me Dana and I kept looking around to see who he was
talking to. I just don't feel like Dana anymore.
She's gone and all that's left is Scully. I don't know how to get Dana
back." (Yukon doesn't get this.
I can see that she might feel more
like Scully than Dana, but there are still people who call her that.
Her Mom, her priest, even some of her enemies call her Dana.
She wouldn't be looking over her shoulder to see who Mr. Date was talking
to. That's just silly.)
"Do
you want to?"
"I
don't know. Dana gets very scared sometimes. Scully doesn't allow herself to get
scared." Scully's voice had taken on a higer timbre, as though she was not
really aware of what she was saying. (This
doesn't make any sense either. First
of all, the term 'timbre' relates to the quality
of a sound, not the pitch, and the
term "high" refers specifically to pitch. For example, an oboe and a clarinet may play the same pitch,
but the oboe has a different timbre. It's
more nasal and focused-sounding. The
clarinet's timbre is more muffled. So
"higher timbre" makes no sense. Yes,
Annette, some of your readers actually know these things.
If you don't know what you're talking about, find another way of saying
it.
Next, Scully's speaking in a higher pitch somehow reflects that
she doesn't know what she's saying? This
makes no sense without more context. It's just a little bit of lazy writing. Yukon's guess - from a second reading - is that the higher
pitch of the voice represents Scully's weirdo subconscious regression into
childhood. But this isn't indicated
well enough. At the moment all we
see is Mulder's bizarre assumption that a higher-pitched voice and third-person
delivery indicates she doesn't know what she's saying.)
"Do
you realise ("realize") you're
speaking of yourself in the third person? That's a common trait in people with
personality disorders." (Oh PLEASE 8.
What an incredible asshole. While
Canon!Mulder can be an insensitive jerk sometimes, he's nothing like this
ridiculously accusatory prick.)
"So
you're saying I'm crazy now, is that it?"
(If that little bit of high-pitched speaking demonstrated her regression,
this comment completely negates that. As do the two comments that follow.)
"That's
not what I said." (Actually, it is
what he said.)
"You
didn't have to. It's written all over your face. Go on, then."
She
sat down at the table and indicated for me to sit on the chair opposite her. I
did. God help me, I did.
"What?"
I asked.
"Do
what you were trained for, Mulder. Psycho-anaylse (one
word, and spell it correctly please) me. I know you've been dying to get
inside my head almost as much as you want to get into my bed. Now's your
chance." (Hmm.
Interesting line. Yukon likes. It's
out of character, but Scully's acting out of character anyway, so I guess it
fits in this context.)
I
started at the reference to getting her into bed. My mind wouldn't let the image
go.
"Stop
it, Scully. You're distraught. You don't know what you're saying, what you're
asking." (This
should be part of the prior paragraph.)
"Yes
I do, Mulder. Don't you want to know? Don't you want to know my deepest darkest
secrets?" (Oh
PLEASE 9.)
I
did. I did. I wanted to know everything about her. What she thinks, what she
feels, what she desires. I wanted to know it all.
(pick a tense)
"Okay.
How long have you been feeling the need to refer to yourself in the third
person? Do you do it all the time?"
"No.
Only when I'm upset." (Yes,
because when you're upset and begin to exhibit symptoms of a serious
psychological disorder, you're likely to be fully aware of your thoughts and
actions. Oh PLEASE 10.)
"And
you were upset tonight?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"It
doesn't matter."
"Yes
it does, or it wouldn't have upset you."
She
didn't answer so I changed tack.
"How
long have you done it? Was there some trigger? Something in your childhood that
set it off?"
She
laughed then, so much that I was afraid she might choke.
"I
was wondering how long it would take you to get to the childhood bit. Why do all
therapists assume that any bad thing must relate to something that happened in
childhood?"
"So
nothing bad happened in your childhood?"
"I
didn't say that. I just resent the *assumption* that something did."
(That's a very good exchange, and it's in
character. See?
This is proof that you can
write. Write the whole story like
this and you'd be in business.)
"What
did happen?"
"Bill
happened. He killed Dana's rabbit." Her voice had risen higher, almost like
a little girl's and I could tell that she was lost in the memory of that long
ago day when Bill had killed her pet.
"Why
did he kill Dana's rabbit?"
"So
she wouldn't tell."
My
heart sank to my shoes. Not that, not that, not that, I repeated over and over
in my head like a mantra. (Also
a good reaction. It's a reaction to
a ridiculous scenario, but it's a good reaction anyway.)
"What
was Dana not supposed to tell?"
About
Bill and Jean - the babysitter. What she saw." It was almost like Scully
was in a trance, she seemed oblivious to anything else.
(She did? How?
Mulder doesn't seem to be trying to distract her without result, and we
haven't seen her disregarding any other stimuli.
This is lazy.) Had
she gone into a trance on her own? She was very susceptible to hypnosis, I knew,
but I hadn't done anything to initiate a trance.
"What
did Dana see?"
"She
was supposed to be in bed, but she was thirsty so she went downstairs to get a
glass of water. There were strange noises coming form the kitchen. Bill was
shouting and Jean was crying. (Yay!
Evil!Billy rears his ugly, hollering head!
Yukon can never get enough of that awful, mean bully Bill! Yawn.)
"Dana
pushed the door open slightly and peeked in. Jean was on the floor, her blouse
was torn and Dana could see a bruise on her chest. (Already?
Bruises don't form that quickly.) Then
Bill obscured all sight of Jean as he laid on top of her. Bill was half-naked,
with his jeans around his ankles and Dana was shocked to see her brother like
that.
"Jean
was crying and shouting at him to get off her, no, to keep away, to stop and she
was trying to push him away. Dana ran, not really thinking, just wanting to help
Jean. Dana tried to pull Bill off, but he was bigger and heavier than her. He
swatted her away like some annoying bug, but then he turned and looked at her. (Oh PLEASE 11.
And if he was old enough to rape the babysitter, it seems sort of logical
that he wouldn't need a babysitter anymore. So
basically the entire story rests on yet another faulty assumption from the
get-go.)
"Really
*looked* at her. He slapped her hard across the mouth, her mouth bled and she
swallowed the stickiness, feeling sick. 'Get out, bitch!' He roared at her and
she cried. 'Get out unless you want to be next.' So she ran, feeling more
frightened than she'd ever been in her life.
(Oh PLEASE 12.
And 13. This one is too
ghastly to warrant only one.)
"The
next day her rabbit disappeared and Bill kept looking at her strangely, leering,
although she was young and didn't realise that's what he was doing. When she
found what he'd done to the rabbit, she knew he was someone to be scared of.
She's been scared ever since." (Yukon
wasn't aware this was a crossover with "Basic Instinct" and MTV's
"The Maxx". Label these
things, will you? Oh, and Bill
*teasingly* threatened her rabbit. Little
Dana herself was responsible for the rabbit's demise. Go to Deep Background and read up on "Christmas
Carol", will you? Why would you write something intentionally uninformed?
And Oh PLEASE 14.)
Scully
shook her head, and looked around confused, as though she had just come out of a
trance.
"Mulder?
Did you hypnotise (yet another Britishism)
me?" she accused.
"No.
I think you went into a trance on your own. Do you remember what you said?"
I dreaded having to explain it to her if she couldn't.
"Yes.
I'd completely forgotten that. I must have blocked it out."
"That's
understandable," I said, wishing there was something I could do or say to
comfort her.
"Poor
Jean," said Scully. "Imagine having Bill as a boyfriend."
"She
was his girlfriend?" Somehow that made it worse.
"Well,
I'm assuming that, since I walked in on them having sex."
"Scully,
think of what you just said. What you just told me. They weren't having sex. She
said 'no'."
Scully's
face went white and I wished I hadn't spoken.
"He
- he raped her? And I saw it?"
I
nod, it seems woefully inadequate. (Yukon nods,
that's a spliced sentence.) I
didn't want to ask, but I knew I would go crazy with thoughts of what might have
happened if I didn't get the facts.
"Scully,
he threatened you with the same," I reminded her. "Did he? Did he ever
touch you like that?"
"Not
exactly."
God
no! I wasn't sure I wanted to hear this, but I knew it would help her to talk
about it. See? My psychology degree wasn't wasted after all.
(Yukon would like to convene a Professional
Standards Review Board to evaluate that assumption.
From the evidence in this story, we think he'd lose, bad.)
I didn't ask her anything else, let her tell me in her own
time, if she wanted to.
"He
kept looking at me, trying to get me alone, but I wouldn't go anywhere with him.
I knew he'd hurt Jean, although I didn't know how and my rabbit. (Huh?)
I knew he could hurt me to. ("too"
Bee Moore careful of homonyms inn yore tails.)
"One
night, he came into our room. Missy was asleep but I wasn't.
I was facing the wall and pretended to be asleep, hoping that would be
enough to make him go away. It wasn't. He began to stroke my hair. 'I'll tell,'
I whispered to the dark, but he just laughed at me. 'Tell what? I'm only
touching your hair.' But what about the next night and the next? It didn't feel
right, the *way* he was doing it. It felt - it felt dirty somehow, intimate and
wrong. (Yukon
is trying to reconcile this image with that of a concerned and genuinely upset
brother in Redux II. Nope.
Can't do it.
[Bill Scully Junior Equal Time Rant]
Okay, Bill Jr. has tried to tell Scully what to do with her life.
In the X-Files universe, that makes him a heavy.
But he's a benevolent heavy. He
doesn't want to ruin her life, he wants to save it.
He may not handle things as gently and lovingly as Mulder does, but he's
just as concerned about her.
This is why the Billy-as-abuser stories rankle Yukon so much.
Bill is not an evil bastard. He's
a domineering older brother who wants to have more control over the future of
his suffering family. There is no
need to vilify him like this. There
are plenty of wonderful Bill Jr. stories out there that paint him as a
three-dimensional character, full of history and opinions and motivations.
Read a few of those and then you'll understand why this absurd, insulting
portrait of him is out of line.)
"I
didn't want him to touch me anywhere. He yanked on my hair so hard that there
were tears in my eyes and I was whimpering. I hated myself for being so small
and scared. He made me feel like that. 'Say
one word any you'll end up like that rabbit.'
(Oh PLEASE 15.)
"Missy
woke up and saw him lying on my bed. She pulled him off me and punched him on
the jaw. He just looked at her, shocked. 'I was only telling her a bedtime
story.'
'Get
out of our room!' He fled and then she came over and hugged me. 'Did he do
anything? Are you all right? If he did something you don't like, you can tell
me.' (Melissa
wasn't this much older than Dana. This
is too worldly and adult a thing for a girl to say.
The only explanation for this would be if Missy herself had been a victim
of Bill's unwanted attention, but this is never even implied.
And you're missing double quotes on this paragraph.)
"But
I couldn't. All I could see instead of the rabbit covered in maggots was myself.
I didn't tell Missy anything, but I think she knew anyway. She would never allow
Bill to be alone with me. He never got the chance to do anything, but I think he
would have. I really think he would."
She
was crying again, softly, as if she didn't want me to hear her pain. He had
already done something. He had bullied and terrorised (Briticism
again) her, always with the threat that he might do something worse. I
knew if he came into the room then, I would probably shoot him.
(Oh PLEASE 16.)
I
got up and stood behind her, resting my hands lightly on her shoulders. I wasn't
sure she wanted to be touched after what she just told me.
(Then why
in heaven's name are you touching her, you idiot?)
"I'm
so sorry, Scully. I had no idea."
Yes
you did insisted my inner voice (without
punctuation). It was true, I had suspected as much when I realised (and
again) how few men Scully had actually gone out with. She always cited
pressure of work as the reason she didn't go out much. It wasn't. It was fear. I
wasn't surprised.
"That's
why you were alone tonight, wasn't it?" I ask softly.
She
nods. "When it came to the crunch, I couldn't do it. There was always this
fear in the back of my mind, but I didn't know why until tonight." She
turns, sobbing against my midriff, looping her arms around me as if she's
drowning and I'm a lifebelt. (So,
let Yukon get this straight, Scully suddenly decided she had trouble with a
situation that's always been a problem, despite the fact that we've been made
aware of no fewer than two serious relationships in her past? Tundra's words are sage:
Scully is not a virgin.)
I'll
never let you drown, Scully, never.
"I
hate him!" she mumbles against my shirt. A shirt that is soaked with her
tears. I'll never wash it again. (Nice.
Mulderish, in this context.)
"My
sentiments exactly." (Oh PLEASE 17.)
I tried to gently disnegage ("disengage"
Get a spellchecker.) myself from Scully's embrace, but she clung
to me like a limpet. (Urp. Like a ... limpet? Under
"obscure", see "delphic".)
"Don't
go, Mulder. Please don't go." She looked up at me with her soul in her baby
blue eyes. (Gak.)
How
could I refuse such a heartfelt plea as that?
"Okay,
I'll take the couch." She looked surprised, and maybe a little
disappointed. Had it been an invitation? I didn't think she was ready for that
and I wasn't about to push my luck. (Oh
PLEASE 18.) She nodded and
went to fetch the pillows and blankets. It wasnb't ("wasn't",
for the sake of Pete) exactly how I would have imagined spending the
night with Scully, but at least I was in the same building. Maybe one day we'll
get to share the same room, if not the same bed.
(Oh, how cute. Teenage!Mulder is hoping to have a sleepover with
Teenage!MalibuScully. I wonder if
they'll make little chocolate cakes in her Easy Bake Oven, too!)
I
wondered if she thought of that scenario as often as I do.
(Tense, author.
As in, "your tense issues are making me tense.")
Once the pillows and blankets were in place, I gave her a chaste kiss on
the cheek, but maybe I lingered there longer than was absolutely necessary.
(Which is always a great
idea when you're dealing with a woman who has just
recovered memories of childhood sexual abuse.)
"Goodnight,
Scully."
"Goodnight,
Mulder," she kissed me on the forehead, cupping my face in her hands.
"Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite." (Oh
PLEASE 19.) She gave me a
tired smile before heading for the bathroom.
I
didn't think there would be bed bugs on a couch, but it was nice of her to think
of it. (Erg.
Author, we've discussed this before. Taking an idiom literally is not an
acceptable substitute for wit or humor. It's
just silly.) I
snuggled down in my bed for the night and sighed. Even the pillows smelled of
her. Maybe one day I would be able to snuggle down next to her, and not to her
essence. (That's
vaguely icky.)
But
not tonight.
Not
tonight.
(Wow. The title of
the story and the last two lines refer to Mulder's willingness to wait for sex.
How lovely.)
END
feedback
appreciated!
AUTHOR'S
NOTES:
This
story was inspired by another piece of fanfiction, "Anamorphosis" by
Megan Reilly which deals with very similar subject matter. (Don't
blame someone else for your crappy characterization and gratuitous disregard for
canon.) I thnk ("think")
her's ("Her's" is not a word.
Never has been, never will be. It's
"hers". For shame.)
is excellent and after reading it for the second time, I just had to write this.
It's been going round and round in my head for a while and I hope Megan doesn't
think I've been plagarising ("plagiarizing")
her story. The ideas are similar, but I think they are different stories.
Any
comments to [email protected]
check
out my x-files fanficiton (oh good gosh, you
misspelled this too?) at
Yukon hopes you don't mind if she abstains.
There is, evidently, only so much lousy characterization and insultingly
poor spelling one little witch can take in one sitting.
Tsk. Watch the show.
Watch the movie. Make SOME
attempt to understand why they do and say the things they do.
You may have a better chance at understanding their motivations and
methods if you simply PAY ATTENTION.
Yukon yields the podium.
Postscript:
The following message appeared on ATXC on 5/9/00.
Suggested alternate Subject line: Deluded Whining On Parade
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Original Message -----
From:
Annette Gisby <[email protected]>
Newsgroups:
alt.tv.x-files.creative
Sent:
Tuesday, May 09, 2000 6:54 AM
Subject:
Re: OT: Authors and Feedback
I love getting emails and see the numbers go up ate ephemeral. My most
recent story got over a thousand hits, but no emails, so I'm left wondering
did people actually like it, or have they hit on it by mistake?
Annette.
check out my x-files fanficiton at
http://homepages.which.net/~annette.gisby/index.htm
Yukon says...
No, Annette. You received no emails because those thousand people
read it and thought your story was complete hamsterpoop, and were offended that
you'd wasted their time that way. Take it from someone who had to read this monstrosity more than once.
Ratings
General
Evilness:
3.5/5
Above average overall. Quite
generally evil and not worth reading.
Gak-o-Tron:
2.5/5
Middle of the road. Not
too horribly gak-worthy. A couple
of scary moments, though.
Death
to Clones:
4/5
Mary
Sue Must Die:
??/5
Yukon will abstain from guessing.
Who
ARE these people?
4/5
Billy especially. Wow.
Mulder, totally goofing up. Scully
breaking down. Bad.
I
speeche goodly:
3/5
Grammar on the whole wasn't bad, but there were some
punctuation/sentence structure issues.
I
R a gud speler:
5/5
Atrocious. Shame on
you. Yukon concurs with Midwest on
this: sending out a story with this many glaring spelling errors is simply
insulting to your readers. Naughty,
naughty author.
Wild
Card:
Bill
Scully as Satan Incarnate
Enough
already. Get a clue.
Watch the show and try to understand his motivation.
This is not a matter of opinion here, such as whether Scully would wear
pantyhose or thigh-highs...in this matter you're just DEAD
WRONG. Period.
