Okay, the back journal entries from September through December 1991 are up. I'll get to the spring ones tomorrow, hopefully. I'm sure you're all riveted by this. q:

So. Sues. Everybody's sues seem to be Star Wars. So is mine. This is the last OFC I wrote before I got too jaded to do a self-insert without arch meta commentary included. Oddly, despite fulfilling every basic criterion, poor Valay Eilellan just barely makes the cut on the SW mary-sue test. It's because she fell in love with Admiral Devlia (from the X-Wing novels, in case you *somehow* didn't recognize the name right away) instead of Han. Isn't it.

So here's a short bit of my generation-spanning saga, which, for once fortunately, was never finished:

( There Is Another Sky: Part 0.1: And You With Me )

Here's another bit, set right after the non-EU novel "Splinter of the Mind's Eye." Yep, Vader's quite righteously pissed, although I can't quite remember why, unless it was because his son and daughter were getting into the heavy flirting again q: And the lightsaber is also a force-shield!

( There Is Another Sky: Part -2.1: But Quietly Quiet )

Guess what happens next? Allya gets killed by Vader! Hey, they were Jedi during the Imperium; getting killed by Vader is what they *did*. And then Valay gets sold to a Hutt with a fondness for force-users. It doesn't come out in the segment I have handy but at this point Allya and Valay are living on the dole in a parked and rusted-out spaceship in a swamp with fifteen cats smeerps puffskeins-- yeah, *these* stories are never getting finished, I've forgotten all my EU knowledge. Good thing the Stargate crossover has decided it's only using original-trilogy canon. :D What are those kitten-things? All I can remember is that Leia had a pink one named AT-AT when she was little.

And then-- since my dear readers clearly aren't bored yet, here's an original fantasy Mary Sue dating back to when I first ran into the concept of Sue-age. Although it wasn't called that, it was in a very annoying how-to-write book in Mrs. Meade's classroom and it said something along the lines of "all writers go through a narcissistic phase in their youth. Fortunately, most of them grow out of it." Then I got really offended and sat down in high dudgeon and wrote this:

( Cashy's Story )

That was written ten years ago, when I was eleven. It's the oldest thing still in one of my active story folders; the paper it's written on is yellow. It's also, sadly, ten times better than my NaNo novel currently is. The plot went something like this: When Cashy was just born, there was this Dark Lord making war on all the magical people. But Cashy's mom sacrificed herself, and the sorcerer was killed-- but not completely! The wise people at the School for Wizards had Cashy raised in secret by her relatives, until she turned eleven and was old enough to go off to the hidden school for wizards and learn how to defeat him for good, as had been prophesied. And then she went to school and made some friends, even though she didn't quite fit in, and ended up finding her way into the secret room just in time to prevent him from getting his hands on the magic stone.

Oddly, she also only barely achieves Mary-Sue status on the quiz, probably due to my utter hatred of describing my characters physically . . .