To Teach the Human Heart the Knowledge of Itself: Notes
Ah, vacation. I have battle wounds, people. My epic love for Scrat has taken a fatal blow, my clothes still aren't dry, and I can't help it, I'm clinging to the internet like a lifeline!
Anyway, these are just-some notes on my big bang. I wasn't able to post them while I was away, due to the enormous amounts of material clogging our motel's series of tubes. (Seriously, we were averaging about ten minutes online per hour. Free wireless internet my ass.)
October, 2008. That's when apgeeksout won my services over at Sweet Charity. J2, AU preferred, 1k. Simple, right? Except here we are, eight months later, and she has my undying love for waiting so, so long for me to get my act together.
I want to talk about length. Seriously, get out those rulers, because what. the. fuck. was going on in my brain when it decided to spit out forty-five thousand words of fiction? Necessary words, not extra crap added to pad the word count. I'm a short fic writer, I really am. In and out, preferably with a little bit of a punch. The anatomy of a moment. I don't know where this came from or why, but I do know that somehow-despite a complete failure to manage my time and the extreme amount of panic that inevitably followed-I managed to write a really, stupidly long story that I actually like.
I turned in a 24k draft in May and added 21k to it during editing. Before this, the longest fic I ever posted was in the 8k range, and that was a long time ago, in a fandom far, far away. I wish I could say that writing this has somehow unlocked all the secrets of writing long stories, that I get it now, that I can just open all those long fic ideas I have sketched out and get them written, just like that, one after another. Yeah, not so much. I feel like I'm still just as clueless as before, just-not hopeless. I can look at my folder of ideas and feel like it's not impossible that some of them will eventually be completed stories, and that's kind of awesome.
This was an intensive process. It still surprises me to look at my computer and see that Word isn't open, dictionary.com's not taking up two or three tabs. I'll find myself wanting to look something up on my chart (yes, I make charts, shut up) before realizing that it's completely irrelevant, and one thing I do understand now is how stories become 'verses. I get how hard it is to let go of a set of characters, and I'm usually not a huge fan of sequels to good long fics-too much potential to ruin something awesome-but from now on (or at least for the forseeable future) sequel authors are totally getting a break from my grumpy (but internal) criticism (that I never share with anyone anyway).
They say write what you know. Which is interesting because, well. Oops? I really can't believe I just wrote a story with show tunes in it. SHOW TUNES. Aside from a deep and abiding love for Cole Porter, I could not be less into musical theater. Or theater in general, for that matter. I just-overdosed on drama in high school, and I've been rebelling against it ever since. (Seriously, The West Wing's one of my favorite shows of all time, but it was a hard sell at first because I knew Stockard Channing was on it, and she reminds me of Grease, which, just-no. Seriously, I have sustained injuries diving for the remote when a commercial for Grease comes on, and the pain is entirely worth it.) And Jensen's various quirks are his own: I know nothing of anatomy, human or otherwise-and I'm guessing that much is obvious to someone who does-and I certainly don't drop random Shakespeare quotes all over the place. In fact, I'm kind of pissed at him for making me do all that research. Inguinal ridges, seriously? Also not things I know: fundraising, community outreach, school arts issues. But you know what's kind of hilarious? I have so many notes on obstacles and solutions with regard to a program of this nature that I feel like I could actually create and run ACT! now. I mean, obviously, I couldn't. But it just seems so possible that it never fails to make me laugh.
ETA: And then there's the title, which is what really got me thinking about including story notes, even though you'd never know it, based on my complete failure to write even a word about it. Oops. That's what editing's for, though, right? See, the thing is, when I went searching for a title-I found one. Right away. That never happens for me, so I figured it was a good sign. I slapped it on, turned in the draft, and then proceeded to despise it vigorously. I thought it was stupid, wordy, meaningless, irrelevant, etc. Believe me, I could go on. But it wasn't until the story was finished-entirely finished, the night before I posted it-that I realized: it fits. Because it's wordy, yes, but. In the end, it really kind of was about Jensen learning his own heart. So, note to self: quickly found titles are indeed good signs, even if it takes time for their meanings to become clear.
Anyway. That's enough from me. apgeeksout, all the bitching you witnessed along the way, all the complaints I posted? They mean nothing. Regardless of how I stressed over it, I loved writing this for you. Thanks for giving me the opportunity. ♥
Anyway, these are just-some notes on my big bang. I wasn't able to post them while I was away, due to the enormous amounts of material clogging our motel's series of tubes. (Seriously, we were averaging about ten minutes online per hour. Free wireless internet my ass.)
October, 2008. That's when apgeeksout won my services over at Sweet Charity. J2, AU preferred, 1k. Simple, right? Except here we are, eight months later, and she has my undying love for waiting so, so long for me to get my act together.
I want to talk about length. Seriously, get out those rulers, because what. the. fuck. was going on in my brain when it decided to spit out forty-five thousand words of fiction? Necessary words, not extra crap added to pad the word count. I'm a short fic writer, I really am. In and out, preferably with a little bit of a punch. The anatomy of a moment. I don't know where this came from or why, but I do know that somehow-despite a complete failure to manage my time and the extreme amount of panic that inevitably followed-I managed to write a really, stupidly long story that I actually like.
I turned in a 24k draft in May and added 21k to it during editing. Before this, the longest fic I ever posted was in the 8k range, and that was a long time ago, in a fandom far, far away. I wish I could say that writing this has somehow unlocked all the secrets of writing long stories, that I get it now, that I can just open all those long fic ideas I have sketched out and get them written, just like that, one after another. Yeah, not so much. I feel like I'm still just as clueless as before, just-not hopeless. I can look at my folder of ideas and feel like it's not impossible that some of them will eventually be completed stories, and that's kind of awesome.
This was an intensive process. It still surprises me to look at my computer and see that Word isn't open, dictionary.com's not taking up two or three tabs. I'll find myself wanting to look something up on my chart (yes, I make charts, shut up) before realizing that it's completely irrelevant, and one thing I do understand now is how stories become 'verses. I get how hard it is to let go of a set of characters, and I'm usually not a huge fan of sequels to good long fics-too much potential to ruin something awesome-but from now on (or at least for the forseeable future) sequel authors are totally getting a break from my grumpy (but internal) criticism (that I never share with anyone anyway).
They say write what you know. Which is interesting because, well. Oops? I really can't believe I just wrote a story with show tunes in it. SHOW TUNES. Aside from a deep and abiding love for Cole Porter, I could not be less into musical theater. Or theater in general, for that matter. I just-overdosed on drama in high school, and I've been rebelling against it ever since. (Seriously, The West Wing's one of my favorite shows of all time, but it was a hard sell at first because I knew Stockard Channing was on it, and she reminds me of Grease, which, just-no. Seriously, I have sustained injuries diving for the remote when a commercial for Grease comes on, and the pain is entirely worth it.) And Jensen's various quirks are his own: I know nothing of anatomy, human or otherwise-and I'm guessing that much is obvious to someone who does-and I certainly don't drop random Shakespeare quotes all over the place. In fact, I'm kind of pissed at him for making me do all that research. Inguinal ridges, seriously? Also not things I know: fundraising, community outreach, school arts issues. But you know what's kind of hilarious? I have so many notes on obstacles and solutions with regard to a program of this nature that I feel like I could actually create and run ACT! now. I mean, obviously, I couldn't. But it just seems so possible that it never fails to make me laugh.
ETA: And then there's the title, which is what really got me thinking about including story notes, even though you'd never know it, based on my complete failure to write even a word about it. Oops. That's what editing's for, though, right? See, the thing is, when I went searching for a title-I found one. Right away. That never happens for me, so I figured it was a good sign. I slapped it on, turned in the draft, and then proceeded to despise it vigorously. I thought it was stupid, wordy, meaningless, irrelevant, etc. Believe me, I could go on. But it wasn't until the story was finished-entirely finished, the night before I posted it-that I realized: it fits. Because it's wordy, yes, but. In the end, it really kind of was about Jensen learning his own heart. So, note to self: quickly found titles are indeed good signs, even if it takes time for their meanings to become clear.
Anyway. That's enough from me. apgeeksout, all the bitching you witnessed along the way, all the complaints I posted? They mean nothing. Regardless of how I stressed over it, I loved writing this for you. Thanks for giving me the opportunity. ♥