This is all I want to feel tonight
I am having serious trouble working this semester. Which is Not of the Good, as Buffy might say, because the Ph.D-2 year is rather critical as far as learning shit goes. Prelims this summer, let us never, ever forget.
But something wonderful is happening, and I can't stop it. Don't want to. I'm writing again. "For real," in the sense that what I am writing is original. All of that Matrix fic, and then all of the BtVS fic... well, they were wonderful and fun and good in their own rights, yes. But they've also been practice for what I'm doing now - I believe that. And I'm so grateful to each and every member of my audience who has commented/helped/praised/critiqued my fanfiction over the past two years, because you've helped make me better than I was.
It started with Harry Potter, this summer. Before HP 6, I hadn't been reading -I'd been watching Smallville to stay distracted about just how much I missed Lisa. Lots and lots of Smallville, because the alternative was reading scholarly books, and I just simply didn't want to do that.
Until Harry Potter. And after that, when I was craving more things that I truly *wanted* to read, I discovered Radclyffe's original fiction. We're talking lesbian romance/drama/erotica - well written, exciting, and hot. Let's just say that it's a damn good thing Lisa made the big bucks this summer, because I bought a lot of books. She enjoys them too, thank God.
So there I am, reading lesbian romance novels, and sailing, and learning Latin. And suddenly, my brain wakes up - starts to *generate*. Until I have this plot, this plot burning a hole in my head, about women who sail boats and love each other. So I tell Lisa, and the next day, she writes back that my characters, who I've only OUTLINED to her, have actually had a conversation in her head. This is an omen, people. When your barely-formed characters speak to your partner... that is something to NOT IGNORE. So I start to write. And it's good. Not my prose, necessarily - I still have a lot of work to do. But... the feeling. So good. Like some deep-seated ache is being massaged out with every keystroke.
Other Things start to happen. I join Radclyffe's Yahoo Group, and meet people. Those people tell me to join the GCLS, so I do. And it's awesome. So much helpful information about publishing/writing/etc. Among other things, I get to have an extended talk about the Jossverse with *Reese Syzmanski* (whoa), and I feel like a million bucks. Everything I do when I'm not teaching or writing, is waiting. Waiting to check gmail for the latest posts. Waiting to open Word and write just one more paragraph. Just... waiting.
The stories are coming fast and thick now - With the Wind, for one. A short for Erotic Interludes 3 (crosses fingers, toes, and eyes!), as another. And a rewrite of the Faerie Queene in which Britomart really IS a lesbian and ends up with Palladine. It's like some kind of filter has been removed, or dissolved, or... something. I can hardly stand it, sometimes - how many ideas I have. Hell, I even have a BETA, from the Rad and GCLS list, who is so very good to me.
I had to walk last night, for almost half an hour, just to calm down enough so I could study Latin. It's never been like this - not really. And I don't know how to react. Because I need to do my work at school - to prepare myself for the ordeal this August. To get better at What I Do. To put myself in a position to have a dissertation proposal by the end of December '06.
But... I am burning. All I can see are Corrie and Quinn sailing a 420, or my nameless protagonists in "Atropine" (the short story) walking along the beach, or Bri's spiky golden hair whipping in the supernatural wind as she travels across the border between Here and Faerie.
Do I really want to be a professor, badly enough? I have so many good examples to follow - it's true. But on the other hand, I'm tired. I don't even have a right to be, but I am. These days, it feels like the grad-student is what I have to do, and the writer is who I am. And I don't know if they can co-exist. It would be so very cool to get a Ph.D - no doubt. But I'm afraid that I just don't have the grit/persistence/etc. way down deep.
Anyway. Lisa's parents are coming tomorrow for the weekend, so I need to retire so that I can help with the cleaning tomorrow. Not like her parents care overly much, thank goodness. But since, at this point, my vision is blurring - it's time to call over and out. :)
But something wonderful is happening, and I can't stop it. Don't want to. I'm writing again. "For real," in the sense that what I am writing is original. All of that Matrix fic, and then all of the BtVS fic... well, they were wonderful and fun and good in their own rights, yes. But they've also been practice for what I'm doing now - I believe that. And I'm so grateful to each and every member of my audience who has commented/helped/praised/critiqued my fanfiction over the past two years, because you've helped make me better than I was.
It started with Harry Potter, this summer. Before HP 6, I hadn't been reading -I'd been watching Smallville to stay distracted about just how much I missed Lisa. Lots and lots of Smallville, because the alternative was reading scholarly books, and I just simply didn't want to do that.
Until Harry Potter. And after that, when I was craving more things that I truly *wanted* to read, I discovered Radclyffe's original fiction. We're talking lesbian romance/drama/erotica - well written, exciting, and hot. Let's just say that it's a damn good thing Lisa made the big bucks this summer, because I bought a lot of books. She enjoys them too, thank God.
So there I am, reading lesbian romance novels, and sailing, and learning Latin. And suddenly, my brain wakes up - starts to *generate*. Until I have this plot, this plot burning a hole in my head, about women who sail boats and love each other. So I tell Lisa, and the next day, she writes back that my characters, who I've only OUTLINED to her, have actually had a conversation in her head. This is an omen, people. When your barely-formed characters speak to your partner... that is something to NOT IGNORE. So I start to write. And it's good. Not my prose, necessarily - I still have a lot of work to do. But... the feeling. So good. Like some deep-seated ache is being massaged out with every keystroke.
Other Things start to happen. I join Radclyffe's Yahoo Group, and meet people. Those people tell me to join the GCLS, so I do. And it's awesome. So much helpful information about publishing/writing/etc. Among other things, I get to have an extended talk about the Jossverse with *Reese Syzmanski* (whoa), and I feel like a million bucks. Everything I do when I'm not teaching or writing, is waiting. Waiting to check gmail for the latest posts. Waiting to open Word and write just one more paragraph. Just... waiting.
The stories are coming fast and thick now - With the Wind, for one. A short for Erotic Interludes 3 (crosses fingers, toes, and eyes!), as another. And a rewrite of the Faerie Queene in which Britomart really IS a lesbian and ends up with Palladine. It's like some kind of filter has been removed, or dissolved, or... something. I can hardly stand it, sometimes - how many ideas I have. Hell, I even have a BETA, from the Rad and GCLS list, who is so very good to me.
I had to walk last night, for almost half an hour, just to calm down enough so I could study Latin. It's never been like this - not really. And I don't know how to react. Because I need to do my work at school - to prepare myself for the ordeal this August. To get better at What I Do. To put myself in a position to have a dissertation proposal by the end of December '06.
But... I am burning. All I can see are Corrie and Quinn sailing a 420, or my nameless protagonists in "Atropine" (the short story) walking along the beach, or Bri's spiky golden hair whipping in the supernatural wind as she travels across the border between Here and Faerie.
Do I really want to be a professor, badly enough? I have so many good examples to follow - it's true. But on the other hand, I'm tired. I don't even have a right to be, but I am. These days, it feels like the grad-student is what I have to do, and the writer is who I am. And I don't know if they can co-exist. It would be so very cool to get a Ph.D - no doubt. But I'm afraid that I just don't have the grit/persistence/etc. way down deep.
Anyway. Lisa's parents are coming tomorrow for the weekend, so I need to retire so that I can help with the cleaning tomorrow. Not like her parents care overly much, thank goodness. But since, at this point, my vision is blurring - it's time to call over and out. :)