Words Are All I Have
Yeah, whee... sappy title. Whatever.
Sometimes I wonder if people notice the title of my LJ. "Words Painting Pictures" - LOL yeah, so creative that sometimes I look at it and facepalm to myself and think "wow, Jo, that's the best you could come up with?" Usually I ignore it... Usually I'm too busy fangirling or squeeing (same difference?) over something to pay it any attention...
So what the hell has got my knickers in a twist to make me post this so randomly out of the blue? Eh, bear with me, I'm not too sure either... but it's been nagging at the back of my head ever since the incident happened, and I tried to forget it and let it go, y'know, like a normal person would, but then when have I ever been normal, yeah? It really wasn't that big a deal, but I guess with everything else that's been going through my head**, it was lying there and not going away.
** If I've told you, then you know what's been going through my head. If I haven't, then you don't need to know. I'll tell you if/when I feel you need to know.
Anyways, guess I'll start with the incident that sparked me off the wrong way to begin with.
Just a little background info: I love my choir. I love the music we do/make; we're good... I have friends there that I've known for years now... I also know most of the people there judge me (for being a fangirl, for being quirky, for not being what a typical Catholic/girl should be). I've known for years. This will be my 7th year in choir and I'm still the odd one. I don't fit into any of the little mini-cliques. But I still love my choir. And this whole thing in itself is another rant for another time, when I feel like having it.
You see that meme down there, previous entry? See how I have "secretive" bolded, and "keeps feelings bottled up" underlined on top of it? Yeah I do that a lot, so I'm actually surprised I'm voicing this out... and quit trying to stall/digress, Jo, get on with it.
So, incident... It was about 2-3 weeks ago, post choir practice. A lot of us had a late lunch because it poured with rain and we couldn't all get across the street to the coffee shop to eat. Blah blah... somehow the last few stragglers with nothing to do for the rest of the day ended up sitting around the table debating on our next move. It came round to me and I said I was likely going to crash at Coffee Bean and work on my story.
I was writing my first Klaine fic at the time. I think it was See the Light. And not only was it my first Klaine fic, it was MY FIRST PROPER FIC IN THREE YEARS. I had been in a slump for THREE YEARS of zero or half-written/unable-to-finish fic. Now here I was actually on the verge of FINISHING a fic in a new fandom, and yes, I was pretty excited.
Relatively New Guy asks what kind of story I'm writing. I don't know why, I didn't say Klaine. I guess I was tired of being judged, and I knew me saying that I'm writing "gay fiction" would just... yeah... I was not in the mood to be judged that day. Hindsight? I probably shouldn't have answered at all. I did end up saying "oh it's Glee fanfic."
Yeah... judged.
You all really think I couldn't see the amount of eye-rolling you were doing? All of you? I know one of you didn't even try to hide the epic/dramatic eye-roll and rather condescending sigh, and yes, I know how quickly all of you stood up. I'm quiet. I'm not un-observant.
Thanks guys. Love the support. Thanks. I know a lot of you don't think much of me and my writing, but the fact is NONE OF YOU HAVE EVEN READ MY WRITING BECAUSE NONE OF YOU CAN GET PAST YOUR PREJUDICES TO READ ANYTHING I'VE WRITTEN LEST IT UPSET YOUR DELICATE WORLD VIEW. No, the writing I do for work is not the same as the writing I do as a hobby. Work is work. Writing for work is cold, formal, factual, objective, and devoid of any emotion and (personal) feelings whatsoever. That is writing, but it's not WRITING. The writing I do for fun and fandom? You know all those bottled up feelings? That's where they go. That's my fuel and my muses and my inspiration and my pain and my joy, and rather than take those feelings and do something destructive with them (and believe me, I've entertained ideas) I take them and put them into characters and scenes and situations and make my own happy endings, which is a far healthier outlet if I must say.
Yes, we all know "A Picture Paints a Thousand Words"... but... how many of you, how many of you who rolled your eyes at me that day, can take a Thousand Words and Paint a Picture? I fucking dare you. FUCKING. DARE. YOU.
I know none of you will, because none of you can. I know one of you has this very pretty diary full of very VERY sappy inspirational quotes and phrases and lyrics and whatever. Great. Really. Good for you. And I know all you can do is read it. You can't do shit with it otherwise. I know you can't take one of those quotes and turn it into a full-fledged story that can bring tears to someone's eyes. I can.
I know a lot of amateur fanfic (and original - but this is not a fanfic vs original fic debate, so let it go) writers who can. Because they have. The other day I read this absolutely BEAUTIFUL story where Kurt dies and Blaine goes through unbelievable grief that had me sobbing like a baby. Months ago, possibly last year, someone (Asher, I think it was) wrote a GORGEOUS story about Prowl's death, and Jazz going through the stages of grief, that had me crying through a packet of tissues.
There have been stories - AMATEUR stories, just like mine - that have made me laugh hysterically, that have made sure that I can never hear the word "practice" in the same light again, THAT HAVE FUCKING GIVEN ME AN OBSESSION WITH FUCKING BURBERRY FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!
But you know what? You will NEVER know how awesome a lot of these amateur writers (the good ones, that I know of at least) are, because you, all of you, are far too quick to roll your eyes and pass it off as being 'childish and immature' and I'm not even going to start on the homophobia.
Sorry, no, I don't consider blogging to be writing. Blogging is blogging. Blogging is commenting, criticizing, reflecting on things that happen in real life. No offense to bloggers, I know some good ones, but I still don't consider it writing - at least not in a creative sense where you kind of build everything from scratch. Sometimes I think it's the bloggers that put this idea into people's heads that writing is so easy.
Sometimes, I wish one of you'd just ask for my notebook. I wish one of you would ask for my Writing Journal URL. I think maybe if you read the stuff I throw up there, a lot of you would judge me less. Though probably a lot of you would judge me more given the slash that's up there, first from TF, now from Klaine, but maybe (and it's wishful thinking on my part) it might make some of you stop belittling something that means a lot to me. How much?
I would be in a fucking grave right now had it not been for me picking up a pen and notebook at age 14 and pouring all that frustration and emotion and pain into a story so that it was the protagonist getting hurt and ending up in a hospital instead of me.
I'm sorry, does that shock you? Good.
All of your judging on me for whatever else I am and whatever else I do? I don't care. I haven't cared for a long time. Does it hurt? Yes. Does it make me feel isolated and alone for 4-5 hours every Sunday? Yes. But I deal with it, I suck it up and deal because I know how to. I wouldn't have stuck with all of you for 7 years if I was that insecure and fragile... but to look down on me for my writing, and what I write? That doesn't hurt. It HURTS.
Yeah. It does. I need to be able to write like I need to be able to breathe. I don't expect you all to understand how badly that three year slump (why it surfaced in the first place is also another rant for another time) kicked the shit out of my mental and emotional health. I'm VERY GOOD at bottling feelings...
I don't expect you to understand how good it feels to have that fire in my fingertips again, how good it feels to have that callus on my right middle finger hurt slightly when you press on it because there's been a pen resting on it for hours, how good it feels to have the fingers of my right hand cramp because they've been curled around a pen all day. I do expect you to at least pay heed to all that singing about acceptance and shit, AND NOT JUDGE ME JUST BECAUSE I WRITE (SOMETIMES GAY) FAN FICTION.
I may not be a poet. I sometimes, very rarely, dabble in poetry. I may not be, I may never be, a professional writer with best-sellers left and right, and winning a Pulitzer (I'd love to, but I'm not there yet). I'm still an Amateur, just like every other fanfic writer out there. I just write what I feel, I write what I know. I see things that inspire me and I turn it into fic so that for just that little frame of time, I can live vicariously through someone else and get that happy ending I dream of, so that maybe someone else might be able to do the same.
No, all of you probably wont read this. And I might just chicken out and friends-lock it before the day is done. I know one of you will read this. You know who you are, and you're probably the only one I trust out of all of them. I don't want you to feel torn, but I really had to get this out. I'm sorry.
I can't paint a picture to sum up how I feel, I suck at art. I've just got the words, and yeah, sappy and corny as they sound, they're all I have...
If you've read all of this. Thank you. You are patient and I salute you. Just please don't flood me with "OMG *Hugs!*" comments. Please don't. I'm not fragile, I'm not going to fall to pieces. I appreciate them, but yeah... please don't. I just had to vent.
Sometimes I wonder if people notice the title of my LJ. "Words Painting Pictures" - LOL yeah, so creative that sometimes I look at it and facepalm to myself and think "wow, Jo, that's the best you could come up with?" Usually I ignore it... Usually I'm too busy fangirling or squeeing (same difference?) over something to pay it any attention...
So what the hell has got my knickers in a twist to make me post this so randomly out of the blue? Eh, bear with me, I'm not too sure either... but it's been nagging at the back of my head ever since the incident happened, and I tried to forget it and let it go, y'know, like a normal person would, but then when have I ever been normal, yeah? It really wasn't that big a deal, but I guess with everything else that's been going through my head**, it was lying there and not going away.
** If I've told you, then you know what's been going through my head. If I haven't, then you don't need to know. I'll tell you if/when I feel you need to know.
Anyways, guess I'll start with the incident that sparked me off the wrong way to begin with.
Just a little background info: I love my choir. I love the music we do/make; we're good... I have friends there that I've known for years now... I also know most of the people there judge me (for being a fangirl, for being quirky, for not being what a typical Catholic/girl should be). I've known for years. This will be my 7th year in choir and I'm still the odd one. I don't fit into any of the little mini-cliques. But I still love my choir. And this whole thing in itself is another rant for another time, when I feel like having it.
You see that meme down there, previous entry? See how I have "secretive" bolded, and "keeps feelings bottled up" underlined on top of it? Yeah I do that a lot, so I'm actually surprised I'm voicing this out... and quit trying to stall/digress, Jo, get on with it.
So, incident... It was about 2-3 weeks ago, post choir practice. A lot of us had a late lunch because it poured with rain and we couldn't all get across the street to the coffee shop to eat. Blah blah... somehow the last few stragglers with nothing to do for the rest of the day ended up sitting around the table debating on our next move. It came round to me and I said I was likely going to crash at Coffee Bean and work on my story.
I was writing my first Klaine fic at the time. I think it was See the Light. And not only was it my first Klaine fic, it was MY FIRST PROPER FIC IN THREE YEARS. I had been in a slump for THREE YEARS of zero or half-written/unable-to-finish fic. Now here I was actually on the verge of FINISHING a fic in a new fandom, and yes, I was pretty excited.
Relatively New Guy asks what kind of story I'm writing. I don't know why, I didn't say Klaine. I guess I was tired of being judged, and I knew me saying that I'm writing "gay fiction" would just... yeah... I was not in the mood to be judged that day. Hindsight? I probably shouldn't have answered at all. I did end up saying "oh it's Glee fanfic."
Yeah... judged.
You all really think I couldn't see the amount of eye-rolling you were doing? All of you? I know one of you didn't even try to hide the epic/dramatic eye-roll and rather condescending sigh, and yes, I know how quickly all of you stood up. I'm quiet. I'm not un-observant.
Thanks guys. Love the support. Thanks. I know a lot of you don't think much of me and my writing, but the fact is NONE OF YOU HAVE EVEN READ MY WRITING BECAUSE NONE OF YOU CAN GET PAST YOUR PREJUDICES TO READ ANYTHING I'VE WRITTEN LEST IT UPSET YOUR DELICATE WORLD VIEW. No, the writing I do for work is not the same as the writing I do as a hobby. Work is work. Writing for work is cold, formal, factual, objective, and devoid of any emotion and (personal) feelings whatsoever. That is writing, but it's not WRITING. The writing I do for fun and fandom? You know all those bottled up feelings? That's where they go. That's my fuel and my muses and my inspiration and my pain and my joy, and rather than take those feelings and do something destructive with them (and believe me, I've entertained ideas) I take them and put them into characters and scenes and situations and make my own happy endings, which is a far healthier outlet if I must say.
Yes, we all know "A Picture Paints a Thousand Words"... but... how many of you, how many of you who rolled your eyes at me that day, can take a Thousand Words and Paint a Picture? I fucking dare you. FUCKING. DARE. YOU.
I know none of you will, because none of you can. I know one of you has this very pretty diary full of very VERY sappy inspirational quotes and phrases and lyrics and whatever. Great. Really. Good for you. And I know all you can do is read it. You can't do shit with it otherwise. I know you can't take one of those quotes and turn it into a full-fledged story that can bring tears to someone's eyes. I can.
I know a lot of amateur fanfic (and original - but this is not a fanfic vs original fic debate, so let it go) writers who can. Because they have. The other day I read this absolutely BEAUTIFUL story where Kurt dies and Blaine goes through unbelievable grief that had me sobbing like a baby. Months ago, possibly last year, someone (Asher, I think it was) wrote a GORGEOUS story about Prowl's death, and Jazz going through the stages of grief, that had me crying through a packet of tissues.
There have been stories - AMATEUR stories, just like mine - that have made me laugh hysterically, that have made sure that I can never hear the word "practice" in the same light again, THAT HAVE FUCKING GIVEN ME AN OBSESSION WITH FUCKING BURBERRY FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!
But you know what? You will NEVER know how awesome a lot of these amateur writers (the good ones, that I know of at least) are, because you, all of you, are far too quick to roll your eyes and pass it off as being 'childish and immature' and I'm not even going to start on the homophobia.
Sorry, no, I don't consider blogging to be writing. Blogging is blogging. Blogging is commenting, criticizing, reflecting on things that happen in real life. No offense to bloggers, I know some good ones, but I still don't consider it writing - at least not in a creative sense where you kind of build everything from scratch. Sometimes I think it's the bloggers that put this idea into people's heads that writing is so easy.
Sometimes, I wish one of you'd just ask for my notebook. I wish one of you would ask for my Writing Journal URL. I think maybe if you read the stuff I throw up there, a lot of you would judge me less. Though probably a lot of you would judge me more given the slash that's up there, first from TF, now from Klaine, but maybe (and it's wishful thinking on my part) it might make some of you stop belittling something that means a lot to me. How much?
I would be in a fucking grave right now had it not been for me picking up a pen and notebook at age 14 and pouring all that frustration and emotion and pain into a story so that it was the protagonist getting hurt and ending up in a hospital instead of me.
I'm sorry, does that shock you? Good.
All of your judging on me for whatever else I am and whatever else I do? I don't care. I haven't cared for a long time. Does it hurt? Yes. Does it make me feel isolated and alone for 4-5 hours every Sunday? Yes. But I deal with it, I suck it up and deal because I know how to. I wouldn't have stuck with all of you for 7 years if I was that insecure and fragile... but to look down on me for my writing, and what I write? That doesn't hurt. It HURTS.
Yeah. It does. I need to be able to write like I need to be able to breathe. I don't expect you all to understand how badly that three year slump (why it surfaced in the first place is also another rant for another time) kicked the shit out of my mental and emotional health. I'm VERY GOOD at bottling feelings...
I don't expect you to understand how good it feels to have that fire in my fingertips again, how good it feels to have that callus on my right middle finger hurt slightly when you press on it because there's been a pen resting on it for hours, how good it feels to have the fingers of my right hand cramp because they've been curled around a pen all day. I do expect you to at least pay heed to all that singing about acceptance and shit, AND NOT JUDGE ME JUST BECAUSE I WRITE (SOMETIMES GAY) FAN FICTION.
I may not be a poet. I sometimes, very rarely, dabble in poetry. I may not be, I may never be, a professional writer with best-sellers left and right, and winning a Pulitzer (I'd love to, but I'm not there yet). I'm still an Amateur, just like every other fanfic writer out there. I just write what I feel, I write what I know. I see things that inspire me and I turn it into fic so that for just that little frame of time, I can live vicariously through someone else and get that happy ending I dream of, so that maybe someone else might be able to do the same.
No, all of you probably wont read this. And I might just chicken out and friends-lock it before the day is done. I know one of you will read this. You know who you are, and you're probably the only one I trust out of all of them. I don't want you to feel torn, but I really had to get this out. I'm sorry.
I can't paint a picture to sum up how I feel, I suck at art. I've just got the words, and yeah, sappy and corny as they sound, they're all I have...
If you've read all of this. Thank you. You are patient and I salute you. Just please don't flood me with "OMG *Hugs!*" comments. Please don't. I'm not fragile, I'm not going to fall to pieces. I appreciate them, but yeah... please don't. I just had to vent.