Discombobulatory day
It's now into the wee hours of the last day of June, and I think we've had four entire days of sunshine in the entire fucking month. The last week and a half have been like trying to breathe underwater, it's so humid and not actually hot so the dampness is just settling in everywhere. I am particularly annoyed b/c of course dampness = more bugs trying to get into the house and I despise earwigs with a holy passion. *horrified shudder* It's also wreaking havoc with my allergies/sinuses/ability to just BREATHE, which makes me cranky. >.<
The rest of this post is loosely connected rambling on various subjects. I haven't been posting much lately and I feel the need to put some things on "paper" to organise my personal thoughts about them. Read or skip as you wish - note that the second topic is *very* long. :-)
On labels
Observations heard recently about myself from friends of varying degrees of closeness: I'm a music freak; I'm stylish; I'm reliable; I would most likely show up in leather with a whip if invited to join a threesome; I'm a decent singer; I'm girly in a striking way instead of a pastel-girly way; I'm perfect.
No, I still won't sing onstage in public, and the whip thing was part of a definite "you had to be there" kind of convo, slightly embarrassing but totally hilarious. The only part of that list I have an issue with is the "perfect." I haven't been teased about being perfect for a very long time, but I grew up with that label plastered all over me. So what does it mean to be labelled as perfect? It boils down to this: Perfect is an engraved invitation to schadenfreude. Even your bestest of the best friends have a hidden corner that is waiting for you to fuck up, and when that inevitably happens (because, of course, the one thing you really are NOT is perfect), their first instinct is to gloat in vindictive glee that you've fallen, not to extend a hand to help you up. That comes later - when it comes at all. Sometimes, as with my former friends, the helping hand never shows and they just let you fall.
There are benefits. I wasn't much of a rebel because I didn't need to be; so long as I kept my grades up I had near-total freedom. Authority figures have fairly uniformly adored me and that has let me get away with things that other people can't. Are these good benefits? They can be, obviously. They can also be more hindrance than help upon occasion, especially when the perceptions of those other people are involved. It can foster resentment and bitterness, and then we're right back at waiting for the fuck-up.
I've been rediscovering who I am and incorporating a lot of who I originally was into my self, but I do not want to be perfect. Take pride in what I do and do it to the best of my not-inconsiderable abilities, yes, but that isn't the same thing and it's not the sum total of my existence/personality, either. I'm a fallible, fucked-up, all-too-human mess with massive chinks in my armour that I want people to be able to wiggle through and see ME.
On writing
I've been thinking a lot lately about what it's been like to have such an active muse in my head pretty much 24/7, and when the last time was that I experienced it. I knew it was Max in a Roswell fic, b/c Max was always my main muse, but it took me longer than I would have thought to pinpoint it to The Bitter Dregs. That story was born of having had to suppress Max's POV for the entirety of Reawakening, which was all about him but told in the POVs of the 3 people closest to him, and by the time I finished it he was *screaming* for some screen time. And got it in spades, as I also began writing Splitscreen then and put it aside to finish TBD instead once it grew past the original single-parter.
Why it took me a while to figure it out is b/c the experiences are in such different contexts that it's barely recognisable to *be* the same kind of experience. TBD was written during the "darkest before the dawn" period of my depression, and it served as a vehicle for not only a screeching muse but also one hell of a lot of personal pain. And I may have talked to one or two people about it at the time in passing (I can't remember), but I was absolutely terrified that if I moved out of that state, if I found my way to happy, that the price would be my writing. Ultimately things got so bad that if it *had* been the price, I would have had to pay it regardless.
Fortunately, that wasn't the case, though I wasn't sure about that for a long time. Writing was so difficult when I was in such a state of personal flux that I wasn't able to get much out at all, never mind anything really good. (With one shortshort story exception, that is not posted online as I need to get off my ass and start submitting it places.) Then, as I was getting involved in the Green Day fandom, I was looking at screencaps in jenbly's LJ and stumbled over a fic teaser passage from looking_spiffy that had my jaw on the floor. It was about the equivalent of two paragraphs all told, but it was well-written and intriguing enough to make me check out the bandfiction aspect of the fandom. And much as had happened with Roswell, I fell in love with the writing and then with the possibilities and then began to write myself, finding a steady source of inspiration that I'd been lacking for quite a while.
The irony that the person whose stories interested me in bandfic in the first place has become a writing partner with whom I've written what I think is some of my best work ever isn't lost on me (and I don't think it's spoilerish for TFoWS to say so, lol). It's been eye-opening and glorious to necessitate sinking into a POV so deeply that you can be certain of your muse's thoughts and actions about anything that's thrown at him, and to be challenged on a personal level to step up every time it's your turn. Even if your muse's reactions don't make sense to anyone else right away, you know in your bones that they are right because you're only the pen putting the words on the page - he's the one dictating what they are. It's a different, deeper character-possession than anything I've encountered previously and while he drives me nuts sometimes, I hope he sticks around for-fucking-ever because while he *is* Billie, he's also a larger, more mutable protagonist that I believe I can harness into other stories in time.
Why is that important? Well, I am a goal-driven writer, I've discovered. I enjoy playing around and I write for myself as I must, because I need to, but ultimately I also write to be read. That audience has been fanfiction readers for the last few years, since I got back on the horse so to speak, but I do intend to get published at some point and I can't do that if all I write is fiction based on someone else's characters/life. (Note that I don't really differentiate between fanfiction and bandfiction/RPS, despite the latter lacking the same legal issues and the existence of Rockfic Press, a recent discovery that I still can't wrap my mind around properly.) In any case, that has been my dream for a very long time, and fanfic was responsible for resurrecting it and keeping it burning. And then all my non-fic-related muses stopped talking to me, the fuckers. But from my Billie to a half-human traveller mage is not as big a leap for my muse as it might seem to be, although it's possible that you might need to actually, like, be in my head to understand that! :D
The flip side of that is, of course, the fear. I'm not afraid of writing. I have been, at times; I am generally a little wary to get into the deep angst for fear of it invading my personal space once Word is closed, and there are certain other aspects that have caused some mental friction. Signing up for the 50kinkyways challenge was a direct attack on one of those, and I'm a little amused that I headed straight for the prompts that were the hardest for me and haven't done the ridiculously easy ones yet. Ultimately, though, the writing doesn't scare me. I might need a push every now and again to get past some hurdles, but I'm lucky in that I have people who can help me with that. I'm not even afraid of querying. I'm very, very good at that sort of writing, and I'm emotionally prepared to deal with rejection. One thing that moderating the concrit comm qeverything has taught me is exactly WHY editors may reject a manuscript that they actually think is very good: because they can't edit it. It has nothing to do with the author's abilities, per se, but with the fact that the editor must be able to visualise alongside the author, see what it is that they are attempting to achieve and how they are going about it, and be able to make the same mental journey along a parallel path right beside them, nudging their joint direction left or right as needed. There are going to be authors whose work an editor enjoys reading, but simply can't visualise at all in the necessary manner to enable that nudging; and if they can't visualise it like that, then they shouldn't be editing it. It won't be a functional, mutually beneficial relationship without that shared ability.
The part that scares me shitless is *after* something's been accepted. The marketing, promotional, mememelookatme, "and this is the sequel/rest of the series" part, that is not escapable in today's publishing world, not even in e-pubbing. It's a major stumbling block. Even when I tell myself that I need to just write and worry about all that later, it creeps in and that's when everything freezes. That's when the characters stop talking to me. That's when the plot disappears. So that's the part I need to get past in order to be able to get anywhere with my original fiction. If anyone has any suggestions, I'm definitely listening. (That is, assuming anyone waded through all this crap! LOL. *smooches* to those of you who did. I will probably cross-post some of this to tasjordan since I need to jumpstart that again, too, and it's relevant.)
The rest of this post is loosely connected rambling on various subjects. I haven't been posting much lately and I feel the need to put some things on "paper" to organise my personal thoughts about them. Read or skip as you wish - note that the second topic is *very* long. :-)
On labels
Observations heard recently about myself from friends of varying degrees of closeness: I'm a music freak; I'm stylish; I'm reliable; I would most likely show up in leather with a whip if invited to join a threesome; I'm a decent singer; I'm girly in a striking way instead of a pastel-girly way; I'm perfect.
No, I still won't sing onstage in public, and the whip thing was part of a definite "you had to be there" kind of convo, slightly embarrassing but totally hilarious. The only part of that list I have an issue with is the "perfect." I haven't been teased about being perfect for a very long time, but I grew up with that label plastered all over me. So what does it mean to be labelled as perfect? It boils down to this: Perfect is an engraved invitation to schadenfreude. Even your bestest of the best friends have a hidden corner that is waiting for you to fuck up, and when that inevitably happens (because, of course, the one thing you really are NOT is perfect), their first instinct is to gloat in vindictive glee that you've fallen, not to extend a hand to help you up. That comes later - when it comes at all. Sometimes, as with my former friends, the helping hand never shows and they just let you fall.
There are benefits. I wasn't much of a rebel because I didn't need to be; so long as I kept my grades up I had near-total freedom. Authority figures have fairly uniformly adored me and that has let me get away with things that other people can't. Are these good benefits? They can be, obviously. They can also be more hindrance than help upon occasion, especially when the perceptions of those other people are involved. It can foster resentment and bitterness, and then we're right back at waiting for the fuck-up.
I've been rediscovering who I am and incorporating a lot of who I originally was into my self, but I do not want to be perfect. Take pride in what I do and do it to the best of my not-inconsiderable abilities, yes, but that isn't the same thing and it's not the sum total of my existence/personality, either. I'm a fallible, fucked-up, all-too-human mess with massive chinks in my armour that I want people to be able to wiggle through and see ME.
On writing
I've been thinking a lot lately about what it's been like to have such an active muse in my head pretty much 24/7, and when the last time was that I experienced it. I knew it was Max in a Roswell fic, b/c Max was always my main muse, but it took me longer than I would have thought to pinpoint it to The Bitter Dregs. That story was born of having had to suppress Max's POV for the entirety of Reawakening, which was all about him but told in the POVs of the 3 people closest to him, and by the time I finished it he was *screaming* for some screen time. And got it in spades, as I also began writing Splitscreen then and put it aside to finish TBD instead once it grew past the original single-parter.
Why it took me a while to figure it out is b/c the experiences are in such different contexts that it's barely recognisable to *be* the same kind of experience. TBD was written during the "darkest before the dawn" period of my depression, and it served as a vehicle for not only a screeching muse but also one hell of a lot of personal pain. And I may have talked to one or two people about it at the time in passing (I can't remember), but I was absolutely terrified that if I moved out of that state, if I found my way to happy, that the price would be my writing. Ultimately things got so bad that if it *had* been the price, I would have had to pay it regardless.
Fortunately, that wasn't the case, though I wasn't sure about that for a long time. Writing was so difficult when I was in such a state of personal flux that I wasn't able to get much out at all, never mind anything really good. (With one shortshort story exception, that is not posted online as I need to get off my ass and start submitting it places.) Then, as I was getting involved in the Green Day fandom, I was looking at screencaps in jenbly's LJ and stumbled over a fic teaser passage from looking_spiffy that had my jaw on the floor. It was about the equivalent of two paragraphs all told, but it was well-written and intriguing enough to make me check out the bandfiction aspect of the fandom. And much as had happened with Roswell, I fell in love with the writing and then with the possibilities and then began to write myself, finding a steady source of inspiration that I'd been lacking for quite a while.
The irony that the person whose stories interested me in bandfic in the first place has become a writing partner with whom I've written what I think is some of my best work ever isn't lost on me (and I don't think it's spoilerish for TFoWS to say so, lol). It's been eye-opening and glorious to necessitate sinking into a POV so deeply that you can be certain of your muse's thoughts and actions about anything that's thrown at him, and to be challenged on a personal level to step up every time it's your turn. Even if your muse's reactions don't make sense to anyone else right away, you know in your bones that they are right because you're only the pen putting the words on the page - he's the one dictating what they are. It's a different, deeper character-possession than anything I've encountered previously and while he drives me nuts sometimes, I hope he sticks around for-fucking-ever because while he *is* Billie, he's also a larger, more mutable protagonist that I believe I can harness into other stories in time.
Why is that important? Well, I am a goal-driven writer, I've discovered. I enjoy playing around and I write for myself as I must, because I need to, but ultimately I also write to be read. That audience has been fanfiction readers for the last few years, since I got back on the horse so to speak, but I do intend to get published at some point and I can't do that if all I write is fiction based on someone else's characters/life. (Note that I don't really differentiate between fanfiction and bandfiction/RPS, despite the latter lacking the same legal issues and the existence of Rockfic Press, a recent discovery that I still can't wrap my mind around properly.) In any case, that has been my dream for a very long time, and fanfic was responsible for resurrecting it and keeping it burning. And then all my non-fic-related muses stopped talking to me, the fuckers. But from my Billie to a half-human traveller mage is not as big a leap for my muse as it might seem to be, although it's possible that you might need to actually, like, be in my head to understand that! :D
The flip side of that is, of course, the fear. I'm not afraid of writing. I have been, at times; I am generally a little wary to get into the deep angst for fear of it invading my personal space once Word is closed, and there are certain other aspects that have caused some mental friction. Signing up for the 50kinkyways challenge was a direct attack on one of those, and I'm a little amused that I headed straight for the prompts that were the hardest for me and haven't done the ridiculously easy ones yet. Ultimately, though, the writing doesn't scare me. I might need a push every now and again to get past some hurdles, but I'm lucky in that I have people who can help me with that. I'm not even afraid of querying. I'm very, very good at that sort of writing, and I'm emotionally prepared to deal with rejection. One thing that moderating the concrit comm qeverything has taught me is exactly WHY editors may reject a manuscript that they actually think is very good: because they can't edit it. It has nothing to do with the author's abilities, per se, but with the fact that the editor must be able to visualise alongside the author, see what it is that they are attempting to achieve and how they are going about it, and be able to make the same mental journey along a parallel path right beside them, nudging their joint direction left or right as needed. There are going to be authors whose work an editor enjoys reading, but simply can't visualise at all in the necessary manner to enable that nudging; and if they can't visualise it like that, then they shouldn't be editing it. It won't be a functional, mutually beneficial relationship without that shared ability.
The part that scares me shitless is *after* something's been accepted. The marketing, promotional, mememelookatme, "and this is the sequel/rest of the series" part, that is not escapable in today's publishing world, not even in e-pubbing. It's a major stumbling block. Even when I tell myself that I need to just write and worry about all that later, it creeps in and that's when everything freezes. That's when the characters stop talking to me. That's when the plot disappears. So that's the part I need to get past in order to be able to get anywhere with my original fiction. If anyone has any suggestions, I'm definitely listening. (That is, assuming anyone waded through all this crap! LOL. *smooches* to those of you who did. I will probably cross-post some of this to tasjordan since I need to jumpstart that again, too, and it's relevant.)