once upon a time, I used to write stories
My recent coming out of fic hibernation made me remember that I had never actually gotten around to posting my fic to A03. I know, I know, I'm only about four or five years late to this party. :) But in case anyone is interested, here be fic. Somewhat curated, so you won't find every snippet ever, or a lot of pellucid: the early years. But most of it is there.
The really interesting part of this is that it's caused me to go back over the past couple of days and re-read all my own fic--something I haven't done for years (lots of years, in the case of some of this). And wow. I mean, some of it was downright bad (see also, pellucid: the early years), and a lot of it was fine, and some of it was rather good, if I do say so myself.
But quite aside from the quality or the lack thereof, I was so overwhelmed by all the memories and all the feelings I had for these characters. I wrote a rather shocking amount of fic about Janet Fraiser (much of which isn't even re-posted because, pellucid: the early years), and I think maybe I had to work all of that out of my system before I could write this one, which sums up a lot of the things I loved best about SG-1. I fell too madly in love with Farscape even to write about it with much coherence, except for filling in the gaps in Xhalax Sun's life, and a couple hundred of my favorite words ever, which happened to be about Chiana.
And Laura Roslin. God, y'all, I've cried actual tears this week over loving Laura Roslin. They were cathartic, I think, because I seem to be coming around to a place where I can let all the anger go and remember the good times. I found, re-reading that fic, that I couldn't even remember the episodes all that well, nor all that mythology that we spent so much time dissecting (gabolange: "it was like we were all talking in a very strange code"). Instead there's just Laura Roslin, airlocking babies and stealing elections and using the faith she doesn't quite have and holding humanity together with the sheer force of her will. I'm never going to love another character like that, I suspect, and that's probably a good thing for my overall mental health. But goddamn, Laura Roslin.
I locate a big turning point in my writing with "Of Belonging to Another," baby's first gen fic about female characters, which, really, was also baby's first grown-up fic in terms of the sophistication of my writing and the ideas I was starting to realize fic could play with. (It's not all about shippy clichés! Who knew?!)
And then I think I peaked as a fic writer between 2007 and 2009, which, not coincidentally, was after gabolange started betaing my fic but before BSG broke my muse. Nothing I wrote after that was as good, fond as I am of James Ellison and Sarah Connor dancing in the desert or of Irina Derevko's reading of John Keats.
And now that I've written something again after a long hiatus, we'll see where it goes from here. I liked stretching those muscles, and it also seems to have coincided with my falling in love with a new fandom (post on The Americans forthcoming, omg!), and I've already got at least two or three plot bunnies about Elizabeth Jennings and her awesome. Pellucid: the next generation, perhaps? :)
Seriously, though, I've really missed this. I've missed the passion and the community and the squee and the working out of knotty characters and the philosophical research (though I think gabolange and I are the only people who do philosophical research to write fic...). I've missed making things for love. So here's to trying more of that, going forward.
Crossposted from DW, where there are
comments. Comment here or there.
The really interesting part of this is that it's caused me to go back over the past couple of days and re-read all my own fic--something I haven't done for years (lots of years, in the case of some of this). And wow. I mean, some of it was downright bad (see also, pellucid: the early years), and a lot of it was fine, and some of it was rather good, if I do say so myself.
But quite aside from the quality or the lack thereof, I was so overwhelmed by all the memories and all the feelings I had for these characters. I wrote a rather shocking amount of fic about Janet Fraiser (much of which isn't even re-posted because, pellucid: the early years), and I think maybe I had to work all of that out of my system before I could write this one, which sums up a lot of the things I loved best about SG-1. I fell too madly in love with Farscape even to write about it with much coherence, except for filling in the gaps in Xhalax Sun's life, and a couple hundred of my favorite words ever, which happened to be about Chiana.
And Laura Roslin. God, y'all, I've cried actual tears this week over loving Laura Roslin. They were cathartic, I think, because I seem to be coming around to a place where I can let all the anger go and remember the good times. I found, re-reading that fic, that I couldn't even remember the episodes all that well, nor all that mythology that we spent so much time dissecting (gabolange: "it was like we were all talking in a very strange code"). Instead there's just Laura Roslin, airlocking babies and stealing elections and using the faith she doesn't quite have and holding humanity together with the sheer force of her will. I'm never going to love another character like that, I suspect, and that's probably a good thing for my overall mental health. But goddamn, Laura Roslin.
I locate a big turning point in my writing with "Of Belonging to Another," baby's first gen fic about female characters, which, really, was also baby's first grown-up fic in terms of the sophistication of my writing and the ideas I was starting to realize fic could play with. (It's not all about shippy clichés! Who knew?!)
And then I think I peaked as a fic writer between 2007 and 2009, which, not coincidentally, was after gabolange started betaing my fic but before BSG broke my muse. Nothing I wrote after that was as good, fond as I am of James Ellison and Sarah Connor dancing in the desert or of Irina Derevko's reading of John Keats.
And now that I've written something again after a long hiatus, we'll see where it goes from here. I liked stretching those muscles, and it also seems to have coincided with my falling in love with a new fandom (post on The Americans forthcoming, omg!), and I've already got at least two or three plot bunnies about Elizabeth Jennings and her awesome. Pellucid: the next generation, perhaps? :)
Seriously, though, I've really missed this. I've missed the passion and the community and the squee and the working out of knotty characters and the philosophical research (though I think gabolange and I are the only people who do philosophical research to write fic...). I've missed making things for love. So here's to trying more of that, going forward.
Crossposted from DW, where there are
comments. Comment here or there.