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Kerth
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Kerth
Joined: Dec 2005
Posts: 2,020 |
I like this start. No Superman in the way, no working together in the way.
Meeting Lois means Clark WILL want to stay in Metropolis, so maybe he'll write a couple of travel books or work for the Star but whatever it takes he will stay in Metropolis.
Looking forward to seeing where this goes.
Framework4
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Pulitzer
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Pulitzer
Joined: Jun 2004
Posts: 3,147 Likes: 3 |
Wow. A very interesting twist on the pilot. Wanda is Lois's secret identity, one she uses to blow off some steam and reconnect with her physical and personal side. It's a shame she feels that she has to have a separate identity to do that, though. And how will Clark feel after he's come to know her and then he finds out that she's been lying to him all this time about who she really is?
Whoa. I just had a crazy thought. Perry calls Clark the next day and offers him a job, contingent on his performance, and Clark meets Lois but doesn't recognize her as the same woman he danced and flirted with at the club the night before. Then Lois is the one who has to be two people in front of Clark and keep herself away from him as Lois but very up close and personal as Wanda. Now we have a real secret identity crisis brewing, and Lois doesn't have Clark's super advantages. Being married and having daughters, I know how long it takes a woman to get her hair just right, so there won't be very many (if any) quick Lois-to-Wanda changes coming.
Even if you don't go that direction, this premise is full of wonderful possibilities. I, for one, am eager to see where you go with it. I'm sure it'll be a fun trip. And I like the way you're giving us both points of view without head-hopping. It's a tricky thing to pull off, but so far you're doing very well. Please devote whatever time you can to this story, because I think it's going to be a very, very good one.
So, you got the next part ready to post yet?
Life isn't a support system for writing. It's the other way around.
- Stephen King, from On Writing
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Freelance Reporter
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Freelance Reporter
Joined: Mar 2006
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wonderful...absolutely wonderful.  I happen to be one of those people that like stories that don't aways follow the show. This is very creative and fun.  Can't wait to read more. FinLi
Clark: "Can I have a rat chief? Can I, huh? Please?"
Perry: "Clark, do you want me to send you to the dark room?"
Clark: "The dark room?"
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Pulitzer
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Pulitzer
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Hi, Great start.  More ASAP, please. MAF
Maria D. Ferdez.
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Don't like Luthor, unfinished, untitled and crossover story, and people that promises and don't deliver. I'm getting choosy with age.
MAF
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Nobel Peace Prize Winner
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Nobel Peace Prize Winner
Joined: Aug 2005
Posts: 5,797 |
First of all, I love your title, Caroline. Stardust. It's beautiful and romantic and somehow magical. I'm thinking of silvery moonlight which transforms the world into something half-real, where wonderful possibilities are suddenly within reach. And as an astronomy fan, I love the thought that we are all made of starstuff, of stardust. The carbon that is the foundation for all life on the earth, the iron in our blood, the calcium in our bones, the oxygen that we breathe and which combines with hydrogen to make water - all that and more was made inside stars. We are all stardust. Even with Professor Carlton’s recommendation, there was little about Clark Kent that would tempt a man like Perry White to hire him. Clark had hidden himself in out-of-the-way places for too long; jobs at major newspapers didn’t go to journalists who’d spent their years since college writing about the mating habits of geckos. I love your drastic images and formulations. Just being in the Daily Planet newsroom that day had been a thrill, and he’d felt a little bit like a fifth grader on a field trip, just trying to take it all in. The place had thrummed with energy, with activity. It had been modern, with computers on every desk and phones buzzing back and forth, but it was also steeped in history. It was easy to imagine the days when the air had been filled with the clatter of typewriter keys as the giants of journalism had pounded out their Pulitzer Prize winning stories. The past and the presence resonate almost magically in this paragraph. The reader can feel time in the building you evoke before our eyes. We can feel the inexorable passage of time, but we can also hear the insistent, slowly dying echoes of the past. His wanderlust had been waning for some time, his itch to see every nook and cranny of the world gradually replaced by a hearty appreciation for indoor plumbing. You've just convinced me that indoor plumbing is just a miniature version of the nooks and crannies of the world, only neater, easier to fix and control and more predictable. When you've spent your youthful energy and curiosity exploring the larger and scarier nooks and crannies, you look for the comfort and predictability of the plumbings of middle age. Lois just plain didn’t care. She was too busy to date, and when she did, the man invariably wound up wanting more than Lois was willing to give. The easy ones were the ones who just wanted to get her into bed; she could dump those without a second thought. Every now and then, however, she would have a casual date or two with a nice guy and then realize that he was entertaining fantasies involving picket fences and 2.5 children. Those were the hard ones, the ones who refused to be dumped cleanly and instead always made her promise that they could still be friends. Lois always made the promise, but it was tossed over her shoulder as she was sprinting for safety. Those guys didn’t want a friend; they wanted someone to decorate their house in the suburbs and host dinner parties for the boss.
No, thank you. Sorry this quote was so long, but... wow. I can feel Lois running for cover to avoid the marriage trap. But Lois wants something more than just work, though: No, dates just led to trouble, but every now and then she had the impulse for…something. A night out. A little male admiration. A little flirting, just enough to show she still knew how. Maybe a dance or two that made her wish for more. So in order to get that...: She rummaged around in the back until she found the black leather skirt Lucy had talked her into buying more than a year ago. She slithered into it and took her last deep breath of the evening before zipping it up. She paired the skirt with a bright pink sweater that hugged the curves her work clothes worked so hard to hide and then slid her feet into the least sensible heels she owned.
She smiled at the reflection in her mirror. ‘Wanda Detroit’ was beginning to take shape. A few minutes in the bathroom and she’d completed the transformation. With her bright pink lipstick and teased hair, she looked as little like Lois Lane as she had when she’d been dressed as a car thief. Wow. Terry already pointed it out so beautifully, but in this story it is Lois who has a secret identity. Really. There was a slight chill in the evening air, and Clark had thrown on a jacket, not because he felt the cold but because he wanted to blend in. Always, he wanted to blend in. This is so, so, so Clark. There was a slight chill in the evening air, and Clark had thrown on a jacket, not because he felt the cold but because he wanted to blend in. Always, he wanted to blend in. This is so Clark, too. It is his natural inclination to smile at practically everyone, because darn it, he likes people. But he won't smile in places and in situations where smiling isn't done. Blend in, remember? Each of the people who hurried by him had a story. Each had a history and a future. Whether they were chattering into a cell phone or swearing at a Metro cabbie, they each sparked his curiosity. He’d found interesting people in every remote corner of the earth, but surely, with this many people, there must be a wider variety of curiosities. This is a beautiful tribute to big cities. It's a beautiful tribute to people, too. To all the individuals who make up humanity. A window display caught his eye and a grin flashed across his face as he paused to examine it more closely. A tattoo parlor, with some very...interesting possibilities advertised in the display. He thought of what his mother would say if he returned home to Kansas with something like that on his arm, and it was all he could do not to laugh out loud. Actually, his mom would probably be cool about it, he mused. His more conservative father would be appalled. Clark Kent, considering getting himself a tattoo (not that he can have one). But even entertaining the possibility? I'm reminded of those iconical 1960s Curt Swan drawings of Superman which did so much to shape my mental image of Superman. One thing is clear: Curt Swan's Superman would never have pictured himself with a tattoo. And you make me feel the passage of time again, Caroline. (By the way: I love your suggestion that Martha would have shrugged if she had seen Clark with a tattoo, while Jonathan would have been appalled. Really, though, Jonathan's reaction would have been the appropriate one. I once visited a trial where the criminal could be identified because of his tattoo. Hey, Clark, what do you think a distinctive tattoo would do for your secret identity?) The homeless were beginning to emerge from their shadow world, and he drew his wallet from his back pocket each time he was approached. Jaded friends had told him before that he was a pushover, that he should keep walking, that his money would just be used for drugs or booze, but he’d never been able to walk by someone in need if it was in his power to help. I love this - Clark's natural compassion and generosity. And I love this: Maybe that meant that he wasn’t cut out for the big city, or maybe it meant that the big city needed a whole lot more Clark Kents in it. He wasn’t sure. Both are true, I'd say. He might not have noticed it if he hadn’t heard the music – not the pounding beat of his generation but instead, a sultry voice singing old standards that wafted out into the night and seemed to fit his mood perfectly. I just love this sentence. The stardust magic is already reaching out to us, drawing us in with invisible tendrils of warmth. She saw him the moment he entered the room and watched as he took the place in, glancing around with interest. It was obvious that he’d never been there before, and he took a moment to get his bearings before heading to the bar. She was seated just down from him, but close enough to overhear him order a beer, and she tracked him with her eyes as he made his way from the bar to one of the few available tables. He was a muscular man but moved with an easy grace that she admired, and she felt her insides flutter a little when he flashed a quick smile of apology at a waitress as he stepped to one side to let her pass by. Without the smile he was handsome; with it, he was devastating, in spite of the heavy glasses obscuring his face. Sorry this quote is so long, but I find the paragraph irresistible. This is vintage Lois and Clark magic, the erotic attraction overlaying a deeper soulmate bond that make Lois and Clark recognize each other anywhere, anytime. (In the LNC pilot, Lois was just too distracted by her need to excel at her profession to appreciate Clark when she met him in Perry's office. That doesn't mean she didn't recognize him on some level, although she could only admit this to herself when he presented himself as someone who was not a professional rival of hers. Therefore she could only admit her attraction to him when he was Superman.) The man she’d been admiring was exactly what she’d been hoping to find when she’d set out that night, but the pull of attraction she felt for him was so strong and so unexpected that her first instinct was to run the other way. Lois Lane would have, of course, or would have been so completely abrasive that he’d have wound up doing the running. But she wasn’t Lois tonight; she was Wanda Detroit, and Wanda wasn’t afraid of approaching handsome men. This is so lovely. Lois acknowledges that she wouldn't have acted on the attraction she feels for this man, if she had been her ordinary Lois self. But tonight she is Wanda. Wow. Like Clark, Lois doesn't just have a secret identity; her secret identity comes with a different personality, too. She came upon him from behind, taking a moment to settle into her persona before she made her move. Like Clark straightening his tie. “It’s crowded tonight,” she said in a throaty voice, daring to put one hand on his shoulder. “Do you mind if I join you?”
The object of her attentions turned to look at her, and seemed to be momentarily struck speechless. “Uh...sure,” he said finally, swallowing hard. “Um, allow me.” Wow. He's always completely taken with her, whether she is Lois Lane or Wanda Detroit. “It’s nice to meet you, Clark Kent.” She leaned forward, intruding slightly into his personal space and giving him an opportunity to admire her décolletage at the same time. “I’m Wanda Detroit.” Wanda is flirting with him in a way that Lois never would. “Nice to meet you,” he echoed softly, and the funny thing was, she had the feeling he really meant it. How can you *not* love his sincerity and unselfconscious sweetness? College graduate, she noted, pleased – and apparently well-traveled as well. She might actually get some intelligent conversation out of this evening. She usually played Wanda as a bit of a ditz, but she decided some improvisation might be called for. Wanda with a dash of Lois, perhaps? It wasn’t something she’d tried before, but she had a feeling this guy was worth the balancing act. Wow. Wanda with a dash of Lois. Like when Clark dares to make himself more and more *himself* in front of Lois. Letting go of the act, as it were. “Really?” she asked, batting her eyes to let him know she was impressed. “What do you do? …No!” She threw up a hand. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You’re a...pilot.”
He grinned, and she again felt that unfamiliar stab of desire. This guy’s smile should require a permit, really it should.
“Nope, but I do like to fly.” His eyes twinkled as if at some private joke, and she felt warmed through.
“Okay, not a pilot. Let’s see, you’re a doctor, maybe doing humanitarian work.” I love Lois's - eh, Wanda's - guesses. Clark sure does a lot of flying and a lot of humanitarian work! “I wouldn’t count on it, Wanda. I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”
“And I’m pretty good at finding them out,” she teased. “It’s my business, you know – seeing beyond the external.”
“And what kind of job is that?” he asked, turning the tables. “No – let me guess. You’re a Radiologist.” This was irrisistible, too. Well, figuratively speaking, Lois is a sort of radiologist. “OK. A psychic then.”
“Maybe I am.” She dropped her voice suggestively. “Does that make you nervous?”
“Not a bit,” he said, matching her tone. “Can you tell me my future?”
She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “I’m seeing you with someone,” she said. “A woman. You’re at a table in a crowded room, and you’re...asking her to dance.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “Think it’ll come true?” she murmured.
“You’re definitely psychic,” he said, his voice husky. He stood and offered her his hand. I love it, Caroline. So warm, so sweet, so sweetly erotic. As she went into his arms and they began to move slowly together on the dance floor, Clark was reminded of the first time he’d flown – really flown – when he’d shot straight out of his father’s wheat field and into a sky so vast it felt as though it might swallow him whole. He’d been scared to death, terrified that one false move would send him plummeting to earth, but he’d also felt as though he’d been set free – as if he had finally found a place he belonged.
Having Wanda Detroit in his arms felt a little like that. I'm quoting your entire story, aren't I? Comparing the feeling of dancing with your loved one with the feeling of flying is such a cliché - but you don't make this feel like a cliché, Caroline. Particularly since Clark has no reason to think that the woman in his arms is someone who is right for him on a deeper level, someone he could possibly share his life with: It was crazy, and he knew it was crazy. It was absurd to think that he’d fallen in love or anything like it with a woman named Wanda in a tatty little bar called the Stardust Lounge. She was beautiful, of course, but she wasn’t anything like his usual type. He didn’t know anything about her. But something about this – holding her in his arms – felt as overwhelming as soaring into that huge Kansas sky. Your sentences are magical, Caroline. “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that.” She sighed dramatically, and he broke out in gooseflesh when he felt the warm puff of her breath tickle his neck. And so sensual... “Dance with a lot of spies, do you?”
“Constantly. It gets very dull.” And funny... “Mmm. Good thing I’m not really a spy then. In fact, I’m nothing at the moment.”
She drew back and arched her eyebrows at that. “Nothing? You certainly feel like something.” She trailed an exploratory hand across his chest and he sucked in a sharp breath and prayed she didn't notice. And achingly erotic. “I’m a Metropolis girl.”
“Do you still have family here?”
Her bright eyes clouded over, and he immediately wished he hadn’t asked. “They’re here,” she answered, “but not here for me, if you know what I mean. My boss is kind of like family, though. I guess he’d come closest.” And poignant. “I didn’t know psychics had bosses,” he said, wanting to lighten the atmosphere a bit.
It worked. She giggled and then said, “The psychic thing is just a sideline.” And funny again. Sweetly funny. "Am I allowed to ask about the day job?"
She looked up at him, searched his face, and seemed on the verge of answering when her gaze shifted away to the middle-aged singer on the stage. Wanda studied the older woman intently for a minute and then shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “It’s like you said earlier – if I told, it would just seem dull and uninteresting. This is more fun.” And somehow poignant again. The barriers we raise between ourselves and other people. The games we play, the roles we play. The masks we hide behind. In a rare feat of daring, he tipped his head slightly and brushed her cheek with a soft kiss. And this last sentence of the first chapter is so heart-achingly sweet. So where will you take this, Caroline? Lois and Clark have met, but not as "civilian identities". Not as holders of day jobs, not as people shackled by street addresses, not as individuals weighed down with names, family histories and all sorts of more or less hurtful ambitions and competitions. No, Lois and Clark have met as - I hesitate to use this word, because I'm an agnostic, and it doesn't sit comfortably in my mouth - but okay, they have met as souls. As quintessentially themselves. As that which makes them Lois and Clark. As stardust people. In the harsh daylight, they will be weighed down by names, addresses, families, jobs and ambitions again. Layers upon layers of accidents of time and place will settle upon what is quintessentially themselves. Will they still recognize one another? What will it mean that they have seen each other when they were soft and unguarded, and at the same time, certainly in Lois's case, when she was putting on an act? When she was being Wanda Detroit for only the third or fourth time in her life? When she was being someone else than the person she thinks of as herself, Lois Lane? Wow. Will Clark love Wanda Detroit the way first-season Lois loves Superman? Will Lois and Clark both fall in love with phantoms, projections of people which those who do the projections dismiss as people who don't exist? Iam reminded again of this passage from your text: “Mmm. Good thing I’m not really a spy then. In fact, I’m nothing at the moment.”
She drew back and arched her eyebrows at that. “Nothing? You certainly feel like something.” Who are we? What are we? What is real? How real is that which we see in our loved ones, the perceived reality that we fell in love with? Wow, Caroline. This premise holds fantastic promise. And as usual, reading your prose is a joy in itself. Ann
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Top Banana
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Top Banana
Joined: Oct 2003
Posts: 1,363 |
Wow, Caroline...this was a fantastic beginning! If it's anything like your last story was written, then, well brava! You had me at Part 1:
He’d known from the start... Come back soon! 
I'm a firm believer in the fact that God doesn't put any more on us than we can bear. He does however make us come to Jesus every so often.
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Beat Reporter
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Beat Reporter
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Posts: 402 |
Thanks, all! I'm so pleased you enjoyed the first part, and it was such fun reading your theories about where this one is going to go. No one quite guessed it, but several of you weren't far off. Terry, this cracked me up: Being married and having daughters, I know how long it takes a woman to get her hair just right, so there won't be very many (if any) quick Lois-to-Wanda changes coming. So true! My daughter is only seven, and it already takes her five times as long to pick out clothes and get ready as it does her brother. No, Lois certainly won't be changing into Wanda in any phone booths. And this cracked me up, too, as I suspect you intended it to: So, you got the next part ready to post yet? Uh, no. At the time you asked, I hadn't written the first word! I have about five pages now, though, which is promising. When I said WiP, I really meant it! I have written lots of bits and pieces from future chapters, however, and have outlined the story. It looks to be long - at least 20 parts, and you can probably add five to that since I rarely use one word where ten will do (a direct quote from one of my former betas  ). Ann, thank you so much for taking the time to make such extensive comments. You make me want to keep writing just so I can read what you have to say about it! So where will you take this, Caroline? Lois and Clark have met, but not as "civilian identities". Not as holders of day jobs, not as people shackled by street addresses, not as individuals weighed down with names, family histories and all sorts of more or less hurtful ambitions and competitions. Yes, this is it, really. All of this stuff looms ahead for these two people, and hopefully I'll be able to find a story in there somewhere Thanks to all who took the time to comment. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. Best, Caroline
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Pulitzer
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Pulitzer
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Caroline, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t do it, but I’m posting another WIP. My last WIP here updated approximately weekly, but I really doubt real life is going to allow for this one to be updated as frequently. If waits between parts bother you, I would discourage you from starting this story until it’s finished. Of course, if you do decide to read, any feedback is most welcome and appreciated Please tell me you are not letting this story died.  MAF PS I hope Clark tell Lois what happen at the Planet.
Maria D. Ferdez.
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Don't like Luthor, unfinished, untitled and crossover story, and people that promises and don't deliver. I'm getting choosy with age.
MAF
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Beat Reporter
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Beat Reporter
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Maria - Please tell me you are not letting this story died. No, no. That's not what I meant at all! I just started it and certainly have no intention of letting it die. I just felt like I might have set a precedent for updating weekly with my last story that I couldn't count on matching in this one. I homeschool my children, and they are always my first priority. Fall is one of the busiest times of the year for us, which means that writing time will soon be quite scarce. So I will write when I can and I will update when I can and I will make every attempt to make each update a satisfying addition to the story, but I can't commit to a specific schedule. Now, some people are fine with that, and some people are driven crazy by it. If my posting schedule or lack thereof is going to drive someone crazy, then I would much rather he or she wait and read the story at the archive. I don't much follow WiP's myself, so I can absolutely understand others not wanting to do so. And I recognize that I'm not a well-known quantity in this fandom, so some people just might not have faith in me for that reason and would prefer to wait and read the completed story. That, too, is perfectly understandable and doesn't hurt my feelings in the slightest. In the interest of full disclosure, I will say that this story is something past my fiftieth since I started writing fan fiction. Out of that 50-whatever stories (sorry - not interested enough to figure out the exact number), I've abandoned one. It just wasn't working, and it was driving me crazy and turning something I do for pleasure into an absolute chore. I felt terrible for disappointing the people who had been following the story, but I've never actually regretted not finishing it. And I didn't sneak out in the middle of the night; I told the readers that the story wouldn't be finished and why and made my apologies. I probably should have sworn off WiP's then, but frankly, I think they're fun to write. It makes each chapter a bit of a thrill, knowing that even if folks like it, the pressure is on to continue to deliver until the very end. And yes, I sometimes do make slight changes to the story based on feedback I receive, especially since in this fandom I'm writing without a beta. This board serves as my collective group of betas. At the risk of hijacking my own feedback thread with a conversation that probably belongs in another section of the forum, I will add the following: I do understand your frustration with abandoned stories. Anyone who has been following fan fiction for any length of time has been disappointed by a great story that, for one reason or another, didn't come to fruition. You are a reader who consistently takes the time and makes the effort to encourage and offer feedback to authors, and I don't blame you a bit for being annoyed and disappointed when that faithfulness is repaid by a story that never reaches its conclusion. However, it is important to bear in mind that fan writers are mostly amateurs who work fanfiction in around busy real lives. Sometimes circumstances in those real lives change, and the stories can no longer be worked around them. Sometimes feelings about the source material change or the muse just deserts entirely for reasons the writer doesn't understand. Sure, there are writers in every fandom who litter the boards with story fragments, but it isn't hard to figure out who those people are and avoid them. When a serious writer with a good track record abandons a story, it's probably best to give him or her the benefit of the doubt and assume that the story wasn't abandoned lightly - or maybe hasn't been abandoned at all, but is just on hiatus. I speak from experience when I say that it's a miserable feeling to disappoint people who have been so encouraging. It's also frustrating to see months of one's own work come to naught. However much time the readers have invested in the story, the writer has invested exponentially more, and she wants to write 'The End' if it is at all possible. Unfortunately, the only sure way to avoid abandoned stories is to avoid reading WiP's. And as I said before, I don't mind a bit if people don't read my stories until they're finished - or at all, if my stuff isn't their thing. I'll let you decide if "Stardust" is worth the risk  Sorry to be so long-winded! Best, Caroline
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Kerth
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Kerth
Joined: Dec 2005
Posts: 2,020 |
What story was it? Out of that 50-whatever stories (sorry - not interested enough to figure out the exact number), I've abandoned one. It just wasn't working, and it was driving me crazy and turning something I do for pleasure into an absolute chore. I felt terrible for disappointing the people who had been following the story, but I've never actually regretted not finishing it. And I didn't sneak out in the middle of the night; I told the readers that the story wouldn't be finished and why and made my apologies.
Framework4
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Pulitzer
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Pulitzer
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ooooh! I'm loving this, it's great - so well written. and witty, too. I absolutely loved this: This guy’s smile should require a permit, really it should. Yes!! It should! Wonderful! Looking forward to future parts to this story, no matter how long it takes. I can't wait to find out what happens when Clark meets the real Lois. hehe - that ought to be fun.
Superman: Why is it that good villains never die?
Batman: Clark, what the hell are good villains?
=> Superman/Batman: Public Enemies
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Pulitzer
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Pulitzer
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Hey, Frame, I don't care which story she didn't finish, just that she completes this one!
Yes, Caroline, I was trying to be funny, especially with the second comment. I know how devastating real life can be to a writer's schedule, and I have a personal policy not to post anything unless I have the whole first draft finished and I've gone through it myself with my editor's eye. I have quite a number of works in progress on my computer that had good beginnings but which won't finish themselves (nor will my muse finish them), and like Maria I don't like reading incomplete stories, no matter how skillful the author. So I can't, in good conscience, do that to anyone else who might find something of mine interesting.
But I also know that not everyone is like me. How boring would this site be if THAT were true! You write this like you want it to be. I love the premise, and I know I'll love whatever direction you and your muse take it.
One more thing: as a huge favor to me, could you possibly arrange for Wanda to sing "Stardust" on stage at the club? I'm sure Hoagy Charmichael wouldn't mind, and I'm sure Clark would love it. (And so would Ann!)
Life isn't a support system for writing. It's the other way around.
- Stephen King, from On Writing
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Merriwether
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Merriwether
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I never post feedback once something has reached the archive, so I thought I'd better get the lead out before you decided this one was "in the can", so to speak. What a wonderful, magical beginning. It's very fresh and the characterizations feel very lifelike. He’d have never come up with the idea of interviewing at the Planet on his own, but when Professor Carlton had offered the recommendation, Clark had been quick to take him up on it. The worst they could say is ‘no,’ he’d thought with a mental shrug, as he’d packed his battered brown suitcase for the trip to Metropolis.
From the moment he’d stepped off the elevator and into the famed bullpen, however, that casual, que sera sera attitude had deserted him entirely. He’d wanted that job, wanted to be a part of that place... Isn't that the way it is when you run across a place or a group of people and just know that you belong there. I am a firm believer in a God who directs paths. While other journalists had been working their way up the ladder, he’d made other choices. And as he reached for the jacket he’d tossed over the battered desk chair, he realized that he’d never regretted those choices until today. So, in a wierd way, this is a coming-of-age story for Clark Kent. He realizes now where he belongs, even as he flitted around before. (Not that helping out at the farm was done lightly...) No, dates just led to trouble... If she doesn't want a fling and she doesn't want a marriage, I can see how she might feel that way. She’d only done it twice – no, three times – before, but each time it had been fun. It had been freeing to leave Mad Dog Lane behind and be someone else for a night. I can't imagine. Makes one wonder where the original idea came from. But once she'd done it once, I can see why she'd come and do it again. And, I know everyone before me has said it better, but Lois Lane with a secret identity. Who would have thought? With her bright pink lipstick and teased hair, she looked as little like Lois Lane as she had when she’d been dressed as a car thief. I don't know about that. She was a pretty convincing boy. Tough to top that one. This was not a part of town where one opened up to strangers. Folks hurried by him with their heads down, streaming towards bus stops, parking decks, and subway stations and exhibiting no interest whatsoever in the young man taking a more leisurely walk through the south side of town. I've been there. And out of fear as a 98 pound weakling woman walking in the bad part of town, I was one with my head down, walking as if I had a purpose. A window display caught his eye and a grin flashed across his face as he paused to examine it more closely. A tattoo parlor, with some very...interesting possibilities advertised in the display. What a hoot! I'm working on a fic where Lois just asked Clark to get a tattoo with her, just so she could prove that he was really a wimp down deep. But it never occurred to me that a tattoo might appeal to him. Hmm... He wandered for more than an hour, until darkness had fallen completely and the commuters had cleared the sidewalks. The homeless were beginning to emerge from their shadow world, and he drew his wallet from his back pocket each time he was approached. I like how he realizes that the homeless were there all along, but are just now emerging from the shadows. Jaded friends had told him before that he was a pushover, that he should keep walking, that his money would just be used for drugs or booze Jaded friends would be right. Watch out, Clark. He was down to his last twenty dollars... Without a job it probably is his last twenty dollars. She saw him the moment he entered the room and watched as he took the place in, glancing around with interest. It was obvious that he’d never been there before, and he took a moment to get his bearings before heading to the bar. She was seated just down from him, but close enough to overhear him order a beer, and she tracked him with her eyes as he made his way from the bar to one of the few available tables. He was a muscular man but moved with an easy grace that she admired, and she felt her insides flutter a little when he flashed a quick smile of apology at a waitress as he stepped to one side to let her pass by. Without the smile he was handsome; with it, he was devastating, in spite of the heavy glasses obscuring his face. I know it's a long quote, but I love how Lois, err Wanda, takes in every detail about him. She sees how awkward he looks and knows its his first time in the place. She notes her proximity to him. She watches the way a smile transforms his face. She even watches the way he moves. the pull of attraction she felt for him was so strong and so unexpected that her first instinct was to run the other way Even when she's in character, the old instincts die hard. Do you come here often?” He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “I can’t believe I just said that. Chock that one up to inexperience. “Kansas originally – a little farming community I’m sure you’ve never heard of. But since college I’ve traveled all over the world.”
College graduate, she noted, pleased – and apparently well-traveled as well. Lois is more jaded than Wanda, apparently. She takes what he says at face value. Granted, he mentioned he was from Kansas, but if a man in a bar told me he was a world traveler I might put that in the same category as if he told me he was a spy. "Nope, but I do like to fly.” His eyes twinkled as if at some private joke, and she felt warmed through. It warms the reader through, too. My real job is going to seem very boring next to the ones you’re imagining for me. He doesn't sound like he's lieing to impress, though, so maybe I'd take him at face value. Clark was reminded of the first time he’d flown – really flown – when he’d shot straight out of his father’s wheat field and into a sky so vast it felt as though it might swallow him whole. What a vivid description! It was absurd to think that he’d fallen in love or anything like it with a woman named Wanda in a tatty little bar called the Stardust Lounge. She was beautiful, of course, but she wasn’t anything like his usual type. He didn’t know anything about her. I love how he's trying to get his bearings. "You’re a wonderful dancer,” she said, her mouth disturbingly close to his ear.
“I learned from a Nigerian princess,” he told her, hoping it didn’t sound like he was bragging.
“Really?” She drew back and looked at him thoughtfully. “Hmm. I’ve got it! You’re a gigolo. An international, world-famous gigolo.”
He chuckled and dared to pull her a little closer. “I think your psychic powers are a little shaky tonight.”
“Spy?” she asked, sounding hopeful.
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” he said seriously.
“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that.” She sighed dramatically, and he broke out in gooseflesh when he felt the warm puff of her breath tickle his neck.
“Dance with a lot of spies, do you?”
“Constantly. It gets very dull.” I love the give and take of their conversation. They're both obviously having a good time, and the reader can't help soaking in their good vibes. Way to impress her, Kent, he thought with disgust. One dance and you announce that you’re practically a vagrant. That's why I'm so glad I'm not single, anymore. I can be totally who I am without worrying about whether or not honesty will sink things. In a rare feat of daring, he tipped his head slightly and brushed her cheek with a soft kiss. What an ending! Wow! I can't wait to finish this journey with you. Elisabeth
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