Okay, I can't believe I did this...
Jul. 20th, 2002 07:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivka...but ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
therealjae put forth a challenge for people to write a particular kind of 500-word fanfiction vignette, and I, um, wrote one.
The challenge was to write about a defining moment in a character's life. I wrote about CJ from The West Wing, and, um. I think it's actually pretty good.
The Precise Height of Women
"You think you can talk your way out of anything."
CJ's lost count of the times she's heard it. Bemused and affectionate from her father. Stern from her teachers. Bitter from Hal, tonight, as he looked up at her -- he hated that -- for probably the last time.
She tilts her glass and squints at the amber liquid. Her third, or is it her fourth? Not enough, anyway. "You sure can talk." It's never a compliment, said to a woman. Like "you're so tall."
On the jukebox, Patsy Cline is feeling crazy for being so lonely. CJ's annoyed to find a tear slipping down the side of her nose. She's supposed to be drinking herself a backbone, but instead her shoulders are sagging. As if she could shrink herself down to a manageable size.
"You're the least goddamn feminine woman I've ever met," she remembered Hal saying. "Why do you always have to make so much of yourself?" She ended up on her knees, crying, and he was finally taller. But by then it was too late.
"I'm sorry. I'll try harder." The woman's voice rises sharply above the music, startling her, like her own thoughts spoken aloud.
"You've said that before, and you always mess up." It's the couple in the next booth. "I don't know why you think you can go to college when you don't even have the sense not to shrink up my work shirts."
"But the scholarship--"
"Shit." His voice is hard and final. "All those people are gonna be smarter than you and know more than you, and ain't none of them gonna have anything to do with you. I'm just trying to keep you from making a fool of yourself."
It must be the whiskey, because she doesn't remember deciding to stand up. The man, it turns out, looks nothing like Hal. The woman's little and dark, but she still looks a lot like CJ - same swollen eyes, same slumped shoulders, same inward shame.
"Don't speak to her like that."
"Who the fuck are you?"
"I'm just a woman who's tired of hearing it. Why are you trying to keep her down? Afraid she might find out she's better than you?"
"It's none of your goddamn business." He's standing now, trying to loom over her.
"Maybe so, but when it was my business I didn't say it, so I guess I'm overdue." She draws herself up and looks him squarely in the eye. "People are always trying to make women smaller, and you know what? We're finished with it. We're not going to make ourselves crazy trying to squeeze into your boxes. Not me, not her, not the late great Patsy Cline." That last part is definitely the whiskey, but she runs with it.
She steels herself as he makes a sudden move forward, but he just shoves past her to the door. The woman smiles tenuously through her tears. "You sure can talk. You know exactly what to say."
CJ's heard it before, but this time it sounds like admiration. "What can I say? It's a gift." And for the first time, she thinks that maybe it is.
therealjae put forth a challenge for people to write a particular kind of 500-word fanfiction vignette, and I, um, wrote one.The challenge was to write about a defining moment in a character's life. I wrote about CJ from The West Wing, and, um. I think it's actually pretty good.
The Precise Height of Women
"You think you can talk your way out of anything."
CJ's lost count of the times she's heard it. Bemused and affectionate from her father. Stern from her teachers. Bitter from Hal, tonight, as he looked up at her -- he hated that -- for probably the last time.
She tilts her glass and squints at the amber liquid. Her third, or is it her fourth? Not enough, anyway. "You sure can talk." It's never a compliment, said to a woman. Like "you're so tall."
On the jukebox, Patsy Cline is feeling crazy for being so lonely. CJ's annoyed to find a tear slipping down the side of her nose. She's supposed to be drinking herself a backbone, but instead her shoulders are sagging. As if she could shrink herself down to a manageable size.
"You're the least goddamn feminine woman I've ever met," she remembered Hal saying. "Why do you always have to make so much of yourself?" She ended up on her knees, crying, and he was finally taller. But by then it was too late.
"I'm sorry. I'll try harder." The woman's voice rises sharply above the music, startling her, like her own thoughts spoken aloud.
"You've said that before, and you always mess up." It's the couple in the next booth. "I don't know why you think you can go to college when you don't even have the sense not to shrink up my work shirts."
"But the scholarship--"
"Shit." His voice is hard and final. "All those people are gonna be smarter than you and know more than you, and ain't none of them gonna have anything to do with you. I'm just trying to keep you from making a fool of yourself."
It must be the whiskey, because she doesn't remember deciding to stand up. The man, it turns out, looks nothing like Hal. The woman's little and dark, but she still looks a lot like CJ - same swollen eyes, same slumped shoulders, same inward shame.
"Don't speak to her like that."
"Who the fuck are you?"
"I'm just a woman who's tired of hearing it. Why are you trying to keep her down? Afraid she might find out she's better than you?"
"It's none of your goddamn business." He's standing now, trying to loom over her.
"Maybe so, but when it was my business I didn't say it, so I guess I'm overdue." She draws herself up and looks him squarely in the eye. "People are always trying to make women smaller, and you know what? We're finished with it. We're not going to make ourselves crazy trying to squeeze into your boxes. Not me, not her, not the late great Patsy Cline." That last part is definitely the whiskey, but she runs with it.
She steels herself as he makes a sudden move forward, but he just shoves past her to the door. The woman smiles tenuously through her tears. "You sure can talk. You know exactly what to say."
CJ's heard it before, but this time it sounds like admiration. "What can I say? It's a gift." And for the first time, she thinks that maybe it is.
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no subject
Date: 2002-07-20 05:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-07-20 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-07-21 12:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-07-21 02:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-07-22 12:54 pm (UTC)Are you doing a vignette?
no subject
Date: 2002-07-22 01:51 pm (UTC)Are you doing a vignette?
Theoretically, yes. In reality, I'm less sure. I first wanted to do one on Gina Toscano (the Secret Service agent assigned to Zoey way back when) because I'm plotting out a story about her and I wanted to explore her character a bit in something short. Then I came up with the idea of writing 3 vignettes, one for each of the three characters that Jorja Fox has played on shows I watch (the woman follows me from show to show!): Maggie Doyle (ER), Gina (WW), and Sara Seidel (CSI). I even came up with really good ideas for two of the characters right away but implementing them is proving impossible at the moment. All I have on paper is total crap. I'm still working on it.