Since a few people were confused in the tags on this post I thought I’d explain.
Six Sentence Sunday is a writing thing where, on Sunday, you post six sentences from an unfinished work. It can be a new fic, a new chapter of a WIP, or even something you’re not sure you’ll ever post.
Choose an excerpt from any section (and it doesn’t have to be six sentences) and post it, letting people know what it belongs to or indicating that it’s something you’re working on.
People get a preview of what’s coming. You get some feedback on what’s there. If they like it, you might get some reblogs that will generate more interest in your story or you as a writer.
You can find loads of examples by searching for this on tumblr (sometimes tagged “Sunday six”)
Six sentences of my Supergirl Captain America AU, currently in progress! My first drafting procedure is writing things out of order, so these do not go together at all (and are not arranged in order either), but hopefully give a sense of it:
2. “It got on you,” the dark-haired woman says, eyes wide, looking at the vial Kara had broken when she’d been careless, when her strength had come back, “the super soldier serum.”
37. “Lesbianism isn’t classified as a mental illness anymore,” Alex says one day, metal hand clenched tight around a shopping bag of what looks like far more vegetables than she’d gone to the market for.
51. It’s only to Lena that Kara haltingly admits she needs to eat more than what is provided in the usual soldier’s rations—and once she’s given more food she starts filling out, growing larger breasts she needs to bind, getting enough muscle that her real figure is almost as toned as the padded suit she wore for shows, that her fellow soldiers start looking at her differently.
54. “Was that your first kiss since 1945?” Cat asks once they’ve escaped, and Kara can’t answer, thinks of watching Alex press her lips to other women’s in that bar, of those lips pressed to her forehead, her hair, thinks of the cat she hurt as a teenager when she tried to pet it, of crying for a week after and not telling Alex why, of eating rations with her hands when she was particularly anxious as the other soldiers laughed at “how hungry” she was.
77. “Do you want different pronouns?” Lucy asks, and Kara has no idea what that means but something about the careful way that Lucy says it makes her pause.
96. Clark wears their family’s crest proudly on his chest, as he should, while Kara can barely stand to look at it, to see the symbol that had once adorned her family’s clothing, that she and Alex had sketched again and again as teenagers, reminding themselves what they were looking for—a baby, a child, and then, as too much time passed, a teenager.
Question of Smoke 