once you are Real, you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand
Joan Ryan's most recent column for the San Francisco Chronicle is helping me explain myself to myself. I've been puzzling why I write so many stories set in the future. Partly it's because I love the idea that the Fellowship really is a fellowship, and that the connections made during those years in New Zealand will continue forever, even into the next generation. Imagining that makes me very happy, and isn't that the point of fandom? It is for me; it really is my Happy Place.
Yet I've done all sorts of unhappy things to the characters I love. In one story, I killed Dom. In that same story, I have poor Viggo using two canes because of all the damage done to his knees and hips. In another, I have an elderly Billy avoiding mirrors so as not to see his high forehead, age spots, and hair sprouting from his ears. I realize that these images don't appeal to many readers, yet I find them beautiful. A different kind of beauty, certainly, than what the men possess now, in their prime, but I think they're beautiful nonetheless. I often find beauty in the signs of a life well-lived: crow's feet and laugh lines and gnarled fingers are the physical manifestation of years of work and play. When I see photos of Dom that reveal how high his hairline is getting, or the grey in Billy's temples, it makes me hope they'll remain public figures for a long time, so I can rejoice in their continued existence and success. They seem to be translating into something more -- well, "pure" is the only word I can come up with, by which I mean "rid of foreign elements." As if time and work were distilling them, making them more themselves. I am actually looking forward to watching Elijah age; I think he can only become more and more beautiful.
I'm certainly not the only one writing this kind of story; the brilliant elmathelas's In the Garden is one of my favorite stories, and darling msilverstar's Repose is another (and my favorite of all her stories). Both are sympathetic looks at aging and the natural consequences of growing older. They're also full of the Fellowship feeling I crave so much: kindness, love, and loyalty. Oddly, both stories center around something happening to Ian McKellen, but I suppose that's natural -- he is the eldest of the Fellowship proper.
I'm so glad for these stories, if only to learn I'm not alone in my fascination with an aging Fellowship. I'm also glad because they've given me courage to continue exploring possible futures. And I have to thank telesilla who, when I was agonizing over whether or not to post my End Times series, said to me: Post. Somebody will like them.
Oddly, I now feel an urge to write a story set during the first year in NZ.
Yet I've done all sorts of unhappy things to the characters I love. In one story, I killed Dom. In that same story, I have poor Viggo using two canes because of all the damage done to his knees and hips. In another, I have an elderly Billy avoiding mirrors so as not to see his high forehead, age spots, and hair sprouting from his ears. I realize that these images don't appeal to many readers, yet I find them beautiful. A different kind of beauty, certainly, than what the men possess now, in their prime, but I think they're beautiful nonetheless. I often find beauty in the signs of a life well-lived: crow's feet and laugh lines and gnarled fingers are the physical manifestation of years of work and play. When I see photos of Dom that reveal how high his hairline is getting, or the grey in Billy's temples, it makes me hope they'll remain public figures for a long time, so I can rejoice in their continued existence and success. They seem to be translating into something more -- well, "pure" is the only word I can come up with, by which I mean "rid of foreign elements." As if time and work were distilling them, making them more themselves. I am actually looking forward to watching Elijah age; I think he can only become more and more beautiful.
I'm certainly not the only one writing this kind of story; the brilliant elmathelas's In the Garden is one of my favorite stories, and darling msilverstar's Repose is another (and my favorite of all her stories). Both are sympathetic looks at aging and the natural consequences of growing older. They're also full of the Fellowship feeling I crave so much: kindness, love, and loyalty. Oddly, both stories center around something happening to Ian McKellen, but I suppose that's natural -- he is the eldest of the Fellowship proper.
I'm so glad for these stories, if only to learn I'm not alone in my fascination with an aging Fellowship. I'm also glad because they've given me courage to continue exploring possible futures. And I have to thank telesilla who, when I was agonizing over whether or not to post my End Times series, said to me: Post. Somebody will like them.
Oddly, I now feel an urge to write a story set during the first year in NZ.