i don't want to wake up; you can't let go of me yet.
A part of me doesn't want to finish Traces, because no longer knowing that it's there to be finished will see me having to write something else, and I don't think anything could quite live up to it from my perspective as its author. I've never enjoyed writing a fic more. Going back to non-AU fic will feel like a step backwards in terms of construction of character backstories, settings, even plotlines. But what kind of AU would be more enjoyable than a multi-suspect murder mystery? I will write non-AU fic, though, because that's what got me into football slash, and the knowledge that there is a world of amazing stories that I am yet to untap is motivation enough to keep me searching. I need to prove myself wrong, if anything. And I need to prove drbillbongo right. ;)
In eight days, I will have graduated. I've received my letter telling me when to turn up in my cap and gown to the graduation ceremony - a massive fucking hurrah to celebrate my survival of this uselessly time-consuming and spirit-sapping degree. I've begun applying for jobs - and job-seekers' allowance, ha. I can't quite see myself in a nine-to-five job. I can't think of one that I'd be able to enjoy after taking the claustrophobic's nightmare of a train trip into work at some ungodly hour every morning. But the three things keeping me firmly on the track toward the world of cubicles and office memos are my family's painful history of the dole, the incredibly alluring promise of leaving my work at work and being able to do jack shit post-6pm every evening, and gettin' me some funds for my trip to Japan+China next year. Got my mind on my money, and I'm not goin' away.
Is the fact that I wrote about fic before my actual life sadly indicative of my priorities?
In eight days, I will have graduated. I've received my letter telling me when to turn up in my cap and gown to the graduation ceremony - a massive fucking hurrah to celebrate my survival of this uselessly time-consuming and spirit-sapping degree. I've begun applying for jobs - and job-seekers' allowance, ha. I can't quite see myself in a nine-to-five job. I can't think of one that I'd be able to enjoy after taking the claustrophobic's nightmare of a train trip into work at some ungodly hour every morning. But the three things keeping me firmly on the track toward the world of cubicles and office memos are my family's painful history of the dole, the incredibly alluring promise of leaving my work at work and being able to do jack shit post-6pm every evening, and gettin' me some funds for my trip to Japan+China next year. Got my mind on my money, and I'm not goin' away.
Is the fact that I wrote about fic before my actual life sadly indicative of my priorities?