It was a dull and stormy day in December 2002, when I got some e-mails from people saying how they thought my flamer was out of order and that I shouldn't worry about it.

Flame???? I got a flame and didn't know?

Being contrary, as always, I got my virtual hands on a copy of the post that had been sent to one of the slash boards - despite its having already been removed by the list mom - because, well damn it, I wanted to know!

I had previously posted a whine (the e-mail referred to as being "in bad taste") to the boards because I was feeling poorly bad and dying of flu and hadn't had much feedback on my latest chapter of Such Men - WELL, did I get told off!

It was a slow Sunday, so I replied. My reply was also, quite correctly, removed from the list as soon as Mommy saw it but ,what the hell, it was fun and a few people wrote to say they enjoyed it.

It would have all ended there but that today, April 04, I found a file of feedback that I thought I had lost and, upon reading through it, what did I find?

I also found the link to the reviewer's page - I never did have a reply from her concerning her own wtiting - only to find that, yes, she has written some fiction; so I thought I had better find out how it's done properly and having found out couldn't resist the yahboo urge to pop it in the library. No names, no pack drill.

So:
first the flame; then my reply;
then two examples from the reviewer to demonstrate how stuff ought to be writ when it's done proper like:

The Flame:

Hi,
I don't know where to begin. Hmm, OK I'm sorry your sick, [my sick what??] I hope you feel better. Happy birthday. With that said, I have to say that this email is in poor taste.
Feedback is a privilege not a right. If you are writing a story to get praise then don't bother writing it. The best feedback you can get is knowing that you put out best work and feel good about it. Now I have checked out your story and I couldn't go past the first page. Because you are making a mistake that many (including myself) has made and still make.
Show don't tell. Pretend that you are telling a story to someone who can't see. Make your reader *see* your world. With the show you have a visual median, with writing, your words have to create the background. Your reader can't see what's in your head.
This would make a great outline. Did you have a beta
read this? If not I would suggest getting one. They can make all the difference. [but not, as will become clear shortly, to her fiction]

My Reply:

Hi *****, (and everyone who wrote ref. her post)
Thanks for your feedback - always like to get a bit when I can

>From: ***********@*****
>Subject: Re: ref: As Two Such Men Should Be

>I don't know where to begin.

Not a problem I tend to have!

>...I have to say that this email is in poor taste...

Oh dear.

>Feedback is a privilege not a right.

Yes, but isn't it nice? (Damn, I'm going to have start paying copyright fees to Mr O'Brien)

>The best feedback you can get is
>knowing that you put out best work and feel good about it.

I think you left a word out there but I know what you mean except that feedback, de facto, has to come from others. As so many have been nagging me to write more I feel justified in nagging, in return, for them to tell me what they thought of the latest chapter. It's what's known as conversation.

>Now I have checked
>out your story...

Thank you

> ...and I couldn't go past the first page. Because you are making a mistake that many (including myself) has made and still make.

Strange punctuation and, of course, it should be 'have made' but like you say, we all make mistakes.

>Make your reader *see* your world. With the show you have a visual median...

I don't think we have any sort of average with this show. Do you mean 'medium'?

>with writing, your words have to create the background. >Your reader can't see what's in your head.

Very true, using the correct words is essential. An example of what you would have wanted to see would have been useful.

>Did you have a beta read this? If not I would suggest getting one. They can make all the difference.

I have been very lucky with my betas, some of the best writers in the genre are kind enough to beta for me. I sent this first chapter to ***, *** *******, whose C****** G******* first attracted me to the S/X pairing and to *********, (whose Spike/Angel writing is superb)who was the one who badgered me to start writing in the first place.

Being shallow enough to boast I'll include their first impressions here:

#
from: ***: Hee-snerk, is my first reaction. Funny Xanderbabble. Very funny Xanderbabble. I like the whole scene, overall. Xander is hilarious, Spike is on form, and you do a wonderful Giles.

Not much at all that I'd suggest changing, really. Storywise, the only thing that I think might be missing is a little bit of lead-up at the beginning, to *why* he's having the thoughts. Or when they started happening, since he obviously doesn't really understand why. (Unless that's coming in ch.2 ;-) [Mwrgana:*yes, that was developed more in chapter 2*]

#
from: *********: Oh yeah...absolutely bloody brilliant. I love it! I love Xander's voice...I don't read Xan fic (as you know) so I'm not spoilt with lots of ideas of how he should be but all I can say is, this is 'canon' as far as I can see, it's very clever.
I love the way you build up his thoughts about Spike...lips, lips need to be sensitive...etc...clever again.
Love the interactions between Spike and Xander...poor Spike, no hint of what is to come.
It's very funny...just my sense of humour I guess, very dry wit.
You ABSOLUTELY MUST WRITE MORE of this. It's so funny, so good. I love it and I'm not a Xan/Spike fan. The Xan/Spike shippers will go mad about this, believe me!

We all have different tastes but praise from the above is enough to make me confident that I'm on the right track.
Perhaps you have some better suggestions?

I am also shallow enough to include some of the feedback I got from the Nummytreats board after I posted the first chapter. (Feedback on this board is sent privately not to the board.)

# A great way to open you story. I always thought that when xander was confused about something he was really funny. He always made you laugh. I hope you decide to write more.---

# What a good begining! TBC? Please do. And the characterization is good too. I've noticed on BTVS eps, when Xander is nervous, he does tend to blurt out just the wrong part of what he's thinking.

# This was a nice take on the challenge, very funny actually. Thank you

# TBC (or possibly the end)
This has to be continued! I had laughter coming out of places not designed for it.....
*can I just mention here, that THAT came out grosser than I meant it to?* But seriously, a very funny fic, Xan babblings quite on check,
I could see every facial freak-out he would have gone through. You got him down-pat. Applauds loudly and enthusiastically. Continue, continue, continue!!

# Bwa! This was hilarious. Truly awe-inspiring Xander-babble. Good Spike, et al, too. All your characterizations were cool, and if you can accomlpish that in a short little bit of "screen-time", well... then you just rock, don't you?
Thanks.

# I saw in your Header that you got good fb from various people... with bloody good cause, actually!
This was *very* good - one of the best Xander
characterisations that I've ever read... and I've read a LOT ;)
I'm betting I'm not alone in hoping that you'll carry on with this - please, give us some more!
Excellent work, luv.
PS. Is this your first fic? If it is, I'm both astonished and impressed. If not? Well I'm still astonished and impressed and would like to know where I can read more of your work ;)

# Cute, really cute. I'd really like to see more of this. You've got a great grasp of the characters' speech patterns, and that's pretty rare, even among this group of excellent writers.

# Hello,
Just wanted to say, awesome first effort.
##You really have a way with words.##
I love the story so far and I'm greatly looking forward to future parts. Thank you so much for sharing. :-)
(I can tell you'll be one of those names that will have me 'weee!'ing when I see their names in my inbox, meaning new incredible fic. Wee!)

THE FOLLOWING, WONDERFULLY CONSTRUCTIVE, F/B FROM JANET IS LONG BUT PLEASE, INDULGE ME, IT IS A LESSON IN ITSELF ON HOW TO FEEDBACK - AND I WISH I COULD DO IT AS WELL AS SHE DOES.

From: JSnaggles@aol.com
Dear Mwrgana,
I don't see why we should be gentle on you just because it's your first fic. However, having said that, let me say this: I don't see any possible way that anyone could have anything to say about this fic that isn't entirely complimentary**. Of course it doesn't hurt that youvvv have such terrific backup, but you should be shouting 'look at what I did!' not asking us to be kind. If I was your mum I'd be sticking this to the fridge and telling all my friends how clever you are!

[Mwrgana:**BWHAA HAA, see, Janet, you're not always right!!-]

Following are the clips that really stood out for me:

*Xander was having disturbing thoughts. <not that disturbing thoughts are unusual. No, siree, not for this Hellmouth-born guy's brain.>*

-The single sentence start - it's good. Lets us know exactly what's going on but starves us of detail. Immediately, I want to know 'what about'

*'No, siree'*
- I like it when characters speak the way I've come to expect. I like being able to identify who is thinking/speaking just from the text and 'no, siree' would tell me it's Xander without anything else.

*Spike snorted and sent Xander his patented who-did-*your*-lobotomy-moron? look.
The look that always, as Xander was beginning to notice, came with that fascinating
little smirk - the one that < twists his top lip and pushes out the bottom one just a
fraction > spoke volumes of malicious amusement.*
- The little bits throughout where Xander's conscious and subconscious are warring are very well done.

*Xander mewled inside as he watched that long tongue draw lasciviously, slowly
and obscenely across grinning lips.*
-I'm drooling. Obscenely - what a brilliant word in this context.
##I've got a really strong visual on this.##

*"Yes, thank you for that image, Spike," remarked Giles. ...*
-See: characters speaking like I expect.

*"Mhwwm! Places, no, none, no good places. How the hell did you... I'm not
thinking about places!"*
-As above. Also, the confusion, the fear that Spike really can read his mind...

*.... Xander made a lunge at laid-back and casual:
.....
And missed.*
-Just too cute. Even reading it out of context, I'm grinning.

Okay, enough of that; I promise not to include the other 14 pages of feedback I have archived in a Word file. (and that does not mean I don't need lots more! - ooops, more bad taste...)

I have been very self-indulgent here; I am not trying to give the impression that what I wrote is perfect, just answer *****'s criticism and point out that no-one else seems to have had a problem in visualising the scene.

I hope you folks will forgive me but having had feedback, from many of you, on *****'s feedback (wow!) I felt that perhaps it was not only justified but a form of 'thank you' to all who wrote to me. Thanks for your support, everyone, it was really sweet.

I have only just now seen *****'s post so it was strange to read your remarks on it without knowing what had been said! Is it a flame? The rats want to get busy with the peanut butter!

Perhaps we can have a look at your writing, *****, do you write anything other than the "What happened to me today" that is on your web-site? I would love to see it; I'm sure we have more in common than is apparent.

Okay, Peeps, that's it - back to the blowjob for the Roman Cavalry and an essay about Spike and Xander - umm, that's wrong...

love,
Mwrgana

And How It Should Be Done:

An orginal story first, then a Spike/Wes confection complete with: short, staccato sentences; misspellings; dubious punctuation; lack of verbs; some new words; ... and sarcastic, childish remarks from your webmistress

BED TIME STORY

Everynight it's always the same. You can hear them howling in the distance. Tonight though they move closer and closer. Clutching the blankets in a white knuckled grip you fear that they will come closer.

The wolves are always at your door. You glance out of the small dark window. Light from the moon, barley shows from the dark blanket of trees. [barley grows among trees?] You always leave a small light on. Better to see the monsters in the dark. You know some monsters will stay out of the light, and armed with that knowledge you never leave the safe, pale yellow circle of light.

You can hear your heart pounding hard and fast in your chest. Blood rushing through your body. The noise much like the ocean in your ears. You don't move your body, though it trembles slightly from fear. You move your lips though in a soft mantra.

"Please no. God no. Please."

That's when you see two glowing yellow eyes at your window. Your eyes not squeezed tight.   [your eyes are at the window and you're not? a reflection, maybe...]

The wolves are here.

You can hear them, scratching and growling outside the door now. Slowly you get up. Even though you want to hide you know that you have to go to the door and help brace it close.  [you brace your door any way you want to, Doll, they can't touch you for it] The almost winter air is cool against your bare legs.

Your body pressing against the door, shivering. The wolves are throwing their body's against it, trying to break it down.  [again: throwing their body's what at the door?]  They are not dumb animals [nope, we've heard 'em howl!]  and their hunger makes them even more cunning, especially as the scent of fear drips off your body.

You can almost imagine the sight of the wolves. The chilled air steaming around the light gray fur of their muzzles. You know that if they get in that they will bite and rend the flesh from your bones. You can picture it.  [see? Show, don't tell]

The way they will bite into perhaps hitting an artery on the first try. The way your blood will spray in a fine mist  [you don't get a fine mist out of an artery, girl!]  soaking the wolf and cover the walls. You can see the gray fur dripping dark red blood as it rips open your stomach and knaws  [did you know that fur could knaw? Reminds me of that old song, "I'm A Knu"]  on your stomach and intestines.

You know that if dawn doesn't come soon the door will surly break under the assault.  [doors can be very bad-tempered at times]  Your feet scramble trying to hold you upright. Your throat is raw and burring [interesting thing for a throat to do - how does it do it when it does it?]  and you realized  [the tension's getting to the tense, there!]  you have been shouting.

"Our Father who aught in heaven."  [an original take on an old prayer]

Prays rip from the depth of your being. Words that mean nothing to you anymore but give small comfort. A voice to drown out snarls.

DEMON LOVER

It was the first week at the new law firm. The gang was trying to settle in. Though it's hard to feel comfortable where you have to keep your guard up 24/7. Wesley was use to it. Until the dreams started.

At first Wesley thought it was because he has been spending most nights in one of the sub-basements of Wolfram & Heart, filling in the blanks of Angel's life. That wasn't it though. He knew Angel, and about Angelus, had sweated and bled with the demon for the last four years.

Now he has been dreaming not of Angel but of the other one. The one person from Angel's past that he hasn't met, yet, and never will. Spike. Angel's own prodigal son. He hunts down each reference to the blonde vampire, no matter how obscure the reference might be.

At first Wes thinks it's because they have so much in common, but he quickly dismisses that theory. They don't have much in common after all. Besides both being English, they have only Angel to bind them together. Then again, Angel is the end all, be all for both men.

It becomes an obsession, an unhealthy one at that, but once the dreams start Wesley can't fight it. Much like one couldn't fight the setting sun. He steals one of the files has a picture of Spike, and he keeps the picture on his nightstand table. It was the last thing he see before he falls into sleep.

+++++++++++

"Wesley.... you left me again."
Wesley stands on a barren hill overlooking deep creators. He can feel Spike standing behind him. Turning around to face him, Wes smiles.

Holding out his arms he pulls the slighter man into his arms, feeling the solid muscle pressing against his body. He closes his eyes and feels at peace.

"Yeah, I know, you have to. I just miss you when you go."
Spike sighs and steps back. Cocking his head to the side, he regards the ex-watcher. He shakes his head and whistles slightly.

"You don't look good mate. Isn't the great poof making sure you eat?"

"Spike, you know how I don't like to talk about Angel, especially since we have such a short time together."
"I know."

Spike takes Wesley's hand and pulls him away from the edge, down the other side. The pair sits at the bottom of the hill surrounded by burnt trees and bones of demons and humans alike.

Spike tips his head closer, his lips seeking out Wes'. The kiss is the first of many. Wes' warm tongue dominates Spike's mouth. Hands tug on clothing, each man seeking some small comfort in each other's flesh.

Wesley pulls away, panting. He opens his eyes and looks around. The ground that was barren before is lush with emerald green grass. The bones have melted and blended together to form a sparkling blue river.

I like this place better."

Wesley turns to look back at his partner and groans softly. He leans back against the pile of clothing. Spike's blue eyes twinkle as he bends his head, licking and nibbling down the flesh of Wes' chest.

"I like you better."

Then there are no more words, only soft moans. Flesh melting into flesh. Bodies slapping against each other, both seeking sweet release and yet not wanting it to end.

+++++++++++

When Wes wakes each morning his body is on fire. Aching and twitching in much needed release. Desire and lust seemed to replace the blood in his body.

Wes turns his head to glance at the picture that rests on his nightstand, while his hand wraps around his hard shaft. He remembers the dream in vivid detail. With each stroke he imagines Spike's mouth and lips bringing him off. He comes with a strangled cry. Even though he is sated he wishes he could fall back asleep and dream again.

He goes to work, and makes time to find ways to feed his obsessions. He hires Harmony as Angel's secretary because she also has known the touch of Spike. It's his way of being able to be near him during the day.

And when Angel opens the package and Spike manifests in a whirlwind, Wes has to pinch himself, for he wonders if he fell asleep on the leather couch in his office.
"Spike."

Thank you -