on a note of sentimentality
Because sometimes it hit me, like. What would I do, what would I be without fics people wrote. Fics that made me think, made me weep, made me navigate my fears or got over past sadness or laugh when the world's going non-sense. Fics that made me understand characters I don't understand, which in turn made me understand people I don't understand. Fics that made me love the idea of writing itself. Fics that turned a second language into something familiar and lovely. Fics that pushed me into discovery, hope, resolve. Fics that made me want to be a better writer, a better person.
And all of that, for free.
I'm not saying 'free' in the sense of 'whee! free stuff! I don't have to pay for this!' This isn't the same kind of joy I get from rummaging the occasional discount bins from the mall across my apartment. It's not that. It's the generosity itself. Knowing that someone who loves writing, who loves the characters they're writing, who loves the story they're writing, generously pours their time and effort into this, with no material transaction involved.
I mean, it hit me. How rare that is. How wonderful it is, to find such a world. Like a walled garden that can't be understood from the outside. And how impossibly lucky it is for me, to have stumbled upon the key to enter the garden.
If this sounds painfully sentimental, so be it. It's a luxury to be able to vocalize your sentiments.
And all of that, for free.
I'm not saying 'free' in the sense of 'whee! free stuff! I don't have to pay for this!' This isn't the same kind of joy I get from rummaging the occasional discount bins from the mall across my apartment. It's not that. It's the generosity itself. Knowing that someone who loves writing, who loves the characters they're writing, who loves the story they're writing, generously pours their time and effort into this, with no material transaction involved.
I mean, it hit me. How rare that is. How wonderful it is, to find such a world. Like a walled garden that can't be understood from the outside. And how impossibly lucky it is for me, to have stumbled upon the key to enter the garden.
If this sounds painfully sentimental, so be it. It's a luxury to be able to vocalize your sentiments.