fandomhigh | Writing Workshop - 08/15 - Journalism Classroom

Chloe looks far, far too pleased for this early on a Tuesday morning, especially since she doesn't even appear to have coffee in front of her.

"Okay, so I changed the syllabus last session, and I think I'm going to keep the change this time around, if only to give you another week to dread the Romance class," she said, giggling. "Today, we're going to talk about fanfiction." Chloe handed out a short worksheet and launched into a discussion of fandom, fiction, and a little bit about why writing about real people was fanfiction too (which may have only been for Anders' benefit, but that was one of the perks of a small class).

"Now, I'd like to think that either at home, or in your time here at school, you've been exposed to some television shows or some movies. So, I'd like you to take the rest of the class period to work on some of your own fanfiction. Write yourself into the story, or stick two people together who were never able to get it on without your influence. It's entirely up to you.

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This? This was why Anders should never be allowed to have free rein on writing something, especially in a limited time period.

Shadows were falling in funny shapes across the baseball diamond by the time the game finally started. Nobody said why it had been delayed so long, especially since there wasn't a cloud in the sky, but Wendy the Werewolf Stalker was happy because this way at least Seraph wouldn't miss the ceremonial first pitch. This was a big ceremonial first pitch, because Doctor Levant had come back from the dead (again) to throw it out.

Bitterwoman was sitting behind them eating peanuts and being, well, bitter. "Why is it taking forever?" she complained. Bitterly. "This was supposed to be the game of the century! The crew of Strifenova Celestial against the crew of the Lightning Bug!"

That was when Mister What (the fifth one) showed up and plopped into a seat next to her. She looked bitter about that, too.

"Nobody knows," he said cheerfully. "But rumor has it that there was a lot of screaming and ruckus in the clubhouse. Quite a lot of happy people by the sound of it. Vanessa Saturn was taking lots of pictures."

"Vanessa Saturn's here?" somebody asked in a far too excited voice.

It was that Donovan kid. Everybody jumped on him, including Perth Tristow, even though nobody had even known she was there until just then. When the dust cleared, stadium security showed up and hauled Donovan away.

The crowd went wild. And Doctor Levant hadn't even walked out to the mound to throw out the first pitch yet.

Wolf and Lana, the FBI detectives, were sitting behind home plate. That meant it was pretty much guaranteed to be anything but an ordinary game.

Things got interesting in the fifth inning when Leigh Ahab threw a temper tantrum and got ejected from the game by the home plate umpire, Doctor Casa. Commander Ahab, who was managing the Strifenova Celestial team, facepalmed a lot and then called in a pinch hitter, Duke Starcrawler. (It was totally cheating, but VI distracted the umpiring crew long enough that they never noticed he wasn't supposed to be on the team at all.)

Wow, talk about tearing the cover off the ball. Laser swords aren't MLB regulation. That ended up making ESPN newsreels for a month, and was bigger than any pine tar or corked bat scandal ever.

In the bottom of the ninth, with two outs, a runner on first, and the Strifenova Celestial crew down by two runs, Commander Ahab called in his secret weapon, the ultimate pinch-hitter.

"Your attention please," the stadium announcer said. "Now batting for Julius Balto, number thirty-seven, Samuel T. Anders!"

Lots of murmuring all over the stadium. "Who is this kid?" "Where did he come from?" "He doesn't look like much." "I hear he really knows how to handle a bat, but he doesn't seem like the type."

The first mate of the Lightning Bug ~~who's not as scary as our principal~~ tried to stare him down from the pitcher's mound. Anders didn't really notice. Not that he was busy checking out the catcher or anything.

And here came the pitch. Nice, fat fastball grooved right down the middle of the plate.

Anders squared it up, took a good hard crack at it, and watched the ball sail up, up, and away out of the stadium.

The crowd went wild.

Strifenova Celestial won the game on a walkoff two-run homer.

And three blocks away, everybody was trying to figure out why the Scotsman was lying unconscious with baseball stitching patterns on his forehead.

It's a good thing Chloe had gone coffee-free this morning, or she might have choked.

"Oh wow. This is a really good example of how to insert yourself into a story without being too over the top. And nice use of crossovers. I'm impressed."

Writing Workshop - 08/15 - Journalism Classroom - Tuesday Morning

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