a fool's musings

Boreas by Waterhouse
Fool, said my muse to me,
look in thy heart and write...

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"pathological and unbalanced"

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    Music
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2002-03-22 - 10:32 p.m.

swooping and bashing

Okay, I wasn't going to do this, because it's unseemly, but uh...

I won!

I was voted into the CMFFAs Writers Hall of Fame.

I honestly didn't think I would be, and well, there are probably a couple other people who should be in there before me, but Yay Me!

Thanks to everyone who voted for me and everyone who worked on the awards, and to Kielle and the others who fought to have movieverse included.

Just insert something cool of your own devising here and pretend I said it. *g*

In other news, I'm at the parents' once again. Tomorrow is Marguerite's birthday, and also Anthony V.'s family birthday party. He's also competing in a karate tournament, which should be pretty cool - he's a brown belt right now. He's quite good - very focused, not at all like an 8yo when it comes to that stuff. He doesn't goof around, he meditates, he's very serious and into it when he's in the dojo. And he's really good at his combinations.

So that's tomorrow, and then we're possibly taking the kids to see ET on Sunday. That will be fun. I haven't seen it in years. I hope it lives up to the memory.

I have to say, that book, and the Buckaroo Banzai book [thanks again, Pete!] are two of the only movie tie-in novels I've read [and I used to read all of them] that were ever even halfway decent as books on their own.

I love Buckaroo Banzai, btw. *g*

On the fannish tip, Jae Gecko once again has some interesting things to say about writing. Once again, she seems to be jacked into my brain. *g*

She quotes:
In Timequake, Kurt Vonnegut says:

Tellers of stories with ink on paper, not that they matter anymore, have been either swoopers or bashers. Swoopers write a story quickly, higgedly-piggeldy, crinkum-crankum, any which way. Then they go over it again painstakingly, fixing everything that is just plain awful or doesn't work. Bashers go one sentence at a time, getting it exactly right before they go on to the next one. When they're done, they're done.

I'm definitely a swooper, though I don't think I'm all higgledy-piggledy. I do try to get as much of it out as possible whenever possible, and then go back and rewrite/edit/make changes.

My method of writing is what people seem to call "organic."

I have an idea, a snippet of dialogue or an image or a "what-if" situation, and I sit down and put what I see/hear on paper.

Sometimes it's simply a first or last line or even just a title. I tend not to outline, unless something is very plot-heavy.

Pete, Jen and I were talking about backstory and outlining the other night on email, and it's true - the more detailed the outline, the less likely I am to write the story.

I mean, why bother? You already know what's going to happen.

Part of the fun of writing - and most of the misery, too, admittedly - is knowing what's going to happen at the end, sure, but not knowing how the characters get from Point A (the beginning) to Point B (The End).

It's totally driving me nuts that I'm not quite sure how Logan and Rogue are going to get together in Consumption, or even if, by the end, they'll be an actual couple and not just, you know, on the way there. But I can't force it. It has to come naturally out of the interaction between them in the story, because right now, they're both pretty fucked up.

Usually, if a story is longer than 7,000 words, I have no clue how it's going to unfold beyond certain basic plot ideas [Scott and Rogue plan to make Logan and Jean jealous, for example, or Logan slowly comes to realize his feelings for Marie when he visits her in her NYC apartment].

Yes, if the plot is complex and involves a suspense element, as Eyes That Lied or Dollar Short will, then I outline.

But I have a hard time getting excited about a story sometimes after it's been outlined. It seems so... dry.

I can't explain it. It just is.

If I can sketch it out in a few sentences, I get excited and start thinking, 'I can do this, and this, and this!' but if I list it, e.g., 1. Rogue is lost on a mission. 2. Logan mourns. 3. Logan meets someone new. 4. Logan learns Rogue isn't really dead. 5. Logan finds Rogue. 6. They have a confrontation. 7. He is torn between two lovers [ack *g*] 8. He runs like a fool ... and I'll stop now, but you get the idea. [*snerk* for those of you who get that reference]

Then it's just... it's not fun, necessarily. I don't know. I like to be surprised. I like a map, but sort of a vague one, where it might say, "Here be monsters" at the edges, and I'll only find out what's really there when I arrive.

Of course, that doesn't stop me from panicking when I end up at the edge of a cliff and have no clue how to get to where I want to go. *g*

I'm rather contradictory, I know.

I'm a woman of many splendors, to paraphrase the always-cool, always-hot Meldrick Lewis.

So them's my random writing thoughts for tonight.

If you have something to say, go here or here.

Cheers,

~victoria
[current mood: pretty damn pleased]
[current music: still Miss Congeniality in the background. *g*]

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2002-03-22 - 12:07 p.m.

jumping someone else's train

Te had a very interesting entry in her blog (either yesterday or today - it's dated 3/22) in response to something Destina wrote.

Anyhow, you can read Te's and Destina's comments from those links. I'm putting this here because it didn't fit in Te's comments, and well, *of course* I have an opinion. *G*

So here's my 11 cents:

It's funny, because, having come from a *discussion* background, I was *very* taken aback when people on fic lists took things on so *personally*.

I mean, on alt.tv.homicide, they were proud of their rep [and there's me, marginalizing myself, though I was a regular and accepted as such] as "humorless sociopaths" and, in a nicer vein, curmudgeonly cranks.

And I used to mix it up quite regularly on alt.tv.b-v-s and ata, so I'm used to arguing and well, yeah, sometimes feeling a little queasy that things might have gone too far, but I found that most people didn't. There was usually mutual respect, so you could vehemently argue the various interpretations of how much of Angel is Angelus and v.v. with someone, and then turn around and totally be on the same side about Xander's Lie or something.

Sarah T. knows what I mean. *g*

So to me, the idea was always, lurkers are great, but if you don't speak up, you don't have a say, you know? And me, I may not be a classic extrovert, but I'm not going to keep my mouth shut, either.

yet when I came to the fic side of fandom, things were different - I've speculated that this is because we're no longer discussing Joss Whedon's or Tom Fontana's work, but our own, and we're much more thin-skinned about that, understandably...

I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this, but I see blogland as more of a return to that newsgroup mentality, where if you bring it up, you better be prepared to defend it, 'cause if someone's reading, it's a sure bet that someone, somewhere, is going to disagree.

And as for not believing that people read your blog, it's a nice fantasy, but I learned the hard way that mine is being read by more than the few people I expected, and I *did* offend people, and had to deal with the consequences of that. Which has made me very aware of how public these things are.

I don't censor myself, but I decide how much of a fight something is worth before I hit update now, and if I don't feel like mixing it up, I'll refine until I've come up with something more diplomatic, so I don't have to backtrack with "that's not what I really meant, I was just venting."

Now, when I vent, I'm definitely *aware* that there may be some people out there, just *waiting* for me to screw up and say something that can be held against me. I know that sounds paranoid, but... well, I just had the experience again, in a more *superficially* light-hearted way.

Hmm... must do more thinking, which means no writing will get done.. *G*

And I have now officially spent more time writing here and in the LJ than I have doing actual work this morning. Afternoon. Whatever. *g*

Feel free to comment... in the LJ, the guestbook or via email.

~victoria
[current mood: thoughtful]
[current music: I Am the Walrus - the Beatles]

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2002-03-22 - 10:59 a.m.

To everything (turn turn turn) there is a season (the Friday Five)

The Friday Five

1. What is your favorite time of year?

Summer

2. What is it about your favorite season that, well, makes it your favorite season?

It's warm, the days are loooong, going to the beach, swimming in the pool, residual of loving summer vacation as a kid

3. What is your least favorite time of year?

Winter.

4. Do you do anything to celebrate or recognize the changing of seasons?

Uh, no, not really, if you mean observing solstices and equinoxes [sp?]

5. What's your favorite thing to do outside?

Swim or lie in the sun

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2002-03-22 - 10:32 a.m.

Damn Hoosiers...

My boss - my main boss - must have used my phone before I got in this morning, because it just reeks of his cologne.

The man wears so much cologne, he could literally kill you.

I now have the scent permeating my nostrils and my tongue.

This is bad.

This is so very bad.

In other news, the universe is out to prove that I am not psychic, despite my beliefs. My powers of prognostication failed spectacularly last night, as Duke was ousted from the Sweet Sixteen by Indiana, of all people.

You know, I hovered over Indiana, worried about picking them, and then thought, Duke. Of *course*Duke is going to win. Duke is going to the Final Four.

Hell, I picked Duke to win the whole thing over (wait for it now) Wake Forest. Don't ask me why I thought Wake Forest, I just did. Over UConn, even.

Sigh.

I have actual work I need to do. Who'da thunk it?

Certainly not me.

Anyhow, go read Sarah T's blog for a more articulate refutation of Jessica Walker's contention that happiness is simple and angst is complicated, and therefore more difficult to write well, and more interesting to read.

Have I gotten any writing done? No.

I'm asleep at the switch.

Things I've learned:

the later trains are more crowded, yet you can get a seat in the first car.

the closer it is to 9am, the more crowded the deli is, but since the deli man knows me, I always get served before the majority of people. There's a reason I eat the same breakfast every day, and liking it is only part of it. *g*

Always make friends with the security guys and the maintenance people.

Ooh, before I forget, Bright Shiny Objects, the multi-fandom recs site, has been updated.

This morning's random lyrics quote:

And the problems of the world
won't be solved by this guitar
and they won't stop coming, either
by the life I've had so far

~victoria
[current mood: wiped]
[current music: Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd]

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2002-03-21 - 11:23 p.m.

"Crazy, not stupid"

Okay, so I've been trying to catch up on my reading, and I've noticed the Evil!Amy trend is still going on in Josh/Donna.

And the thing is, I can see her as being manipulative (DIW) and concerned with her career above all. She's not exactly the most sensitive person ever (throwing a water balloon at a guy who's been shot, even though she probably didn't know about the PTSD - not someone I'd want handling sensitive matters).

But she's not stupid. She's a politician and she's very good at what she does.

So I can't see her leaking information to the opposition, or doing *anything* that will make Josh her enemy, even if I think she IS power dating (and possibly getting a little "why didn't you notice me in college?" type revenge).

Why? Because Josh is powerful, and she *needs* him friendly to her cause, at least while he's still in the White House, and let's face it, there's a good chance he'll be there another four years.

That's four years til she can piss him off like that and not get burned.

So yeah, having a hard time with the suspension of disbelief on that one.

In other news, totally wiped. Just... blurgh... Stomach acted up again at about 4:30, always a joy when you're facing at least an hour on the subway to get home. So I came home and passed out. I feel somewhat better.

I want to say thanks to Khaki and to Meg for the suggestions on the hospital story (of course, I'll be getting back to you both by email, but I'm lazy).

Ooh, I know what I wanted to say...

Jessica Walker has a big rant about conventional shippers up, and she makes some contentions I take issue with.

Those of you who've been reading this or the LJ know how I feel about the whole angst vs. fluff thing, and there was a part of the rant that just hit all my buttons.

So of course I had to respond.

Here 'tis... (*of course* I made a stupid typo that I didn't see until *after* I'd hit send. Gah. I didn't post that sentence here):

Jessica:
And, statistically speaking, darkfic often turns out to be much better. This is a phenomenon I noticed with slash back when I started reading my first fic- the slash was hot, yeah, but even more significant, the slash was good. It was simply better-written than the hetfic I came in contact with (I think there are an equal number of good fics in both genres, but there's so *much* hetfic out there you really have to search for it). I reached the conclusion that only the writers with balls enough to tackle

slash pairings wrote the fic, and therefore it was of superior quality- you didn't chance it unless you knew what you were doing. The beautiful irony is that for the most part, marginalized genres are better-written genres, because they are sought out by writers who are up to the challenge. In the two years since I joined the fandom, slash has become a lot more popular and accepted- and the quality has gone downhill. I think the case is the same with darkfic. Darkfic and angstfic are *not* easy to write. They take a lot out of both the reader and the writer, elicit a very real, primal, gut response. Why is happiness, well, happy? Because it's simple. Uncomplicated. Darkfic and angstfic, by their very natures, are fics about complication, and therefore more challenging to write.

Me:
I've written numerous times in my own journal about the idea that angst = quality and fluff = crap.

It's simply not true.

Comedy is *hard*.

It's hard to write a good, light fic that captures the characters, injects reality (comedy is brutal - it's simply tragedy + time), and is still *funny* to a large majority of people. Good comedy will also make the reader wince on occasion, in recognition, sympathy, or empathy.

It's easier to write a dark fic in comparison with that. I know. I've done it. Heroin-addict!Xander? Check. Xander succumbing to Angelus? Check. Spike and Dawn turning Buffy, leading to Xander having to stake her? Check.

You know what's still sitting on my hard drive, unfinished? A season 1 casefile type Angel fic wherein the love whammy hits AI, and everyone crushes unrequitedly on everyone else.

Why?

Because it's hard to bring the funny.

I have nothing against darkfic as a genre, per se. What I have huge problems with, in any fandom, is the sweeping generalization that it's always better than light fic.

Is the best dark fic better than the worst light fic? Of course. But the reverse also holds true. I'd rather read an excellent romantic comedy than a craptacular angst fest.

And I've found that quite frequently, people who write angst have *no fucking clue* what they're doing, or we wouldn't see so much bad hurt/comfort - and that's both in slash and in het.

I read both and write both, and I have to say, I also take issue with the contention that slash writers, as a whole, are better than het writers, but that's an argument for another time.

Anyhow, you just happened to push my buttons on this one, so I felt the need to respond. Yes, there's a lot of crappy fluff out there. There's also a ton of bad angst. 90% of everything is shit, and in fanfic that's especially true.

I just think the shit extends beyond the fluff.

*end quoted material*

Comments, as always are welcome. You can go here to leave them, if you like. There's also other stuff in the LJ for those who are interested. Sort of an offshoot of some of the stuff in here. Here it's Evil!Amy, there it's Evil!Jean... It's all the same, sadly enough.

~victoria
[current mood: exhausted]
[current music: The Space Between - DMB]



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2002-03-21 - 12:21 p.m.

hospital fic snip

Okay, so I'm on the subway this morning, vegging out listening to some mellow music, and this story one of my bosses told me the other day comes to me, about this kid in his parish who had a brain tumor, had it removed, but it screwed up his vision and his growth and all sorts of other things.

And the kid was going in for surgery because his legs had grown crooked, and they were going to screw metal bars to them to straighten them out, and he'd have to learn to live like that for a few months before the bars were removed (on the outside of his legs, I believe, not inside). And my boss was saying how the kid was a big hockey fan, and he'd negotiated with someone here in the office who had connections to get the kid a signed Wayne Gretzky jersey.

Then I was thinking about how on April 4, it'll be five years since Victor's been in remission, and three years [?] since he's been off chemo.

Then I got the idea of this mushy Logan story, where Logan meets a kid who's had metal rods screwed to his legs ...

The thing is, I don't want either Logan or the kid to be all saintly about it. I want the kid angry, and Logan to calm him down, but I also want Logan to learn something about dealing with his own problems...

And now I can't remember any of the things I wanted them to say to each other.

So here's what I've got written.

I do much better with cynical than with mushy, in these sitches. Sigh. I'm hoping the Mushmeister can help me out on this one, since this is his forte.

I need to get back to Consumption.

This thing needs a title, too, btw.

***

Logan shifted uncomfortably in the hard plastic waiting room chair.

He hated hospitals. Hated the sterile, antiseptic scent that couldn't quite cover the stench of disease, death and decay. Hated the bright fluorescent lighting that gave everything a greenish-yellow cast and made even the healthy look sick.

But mostly he hated that he could remember being strapped down on a metal table and experimented on, in a setting such as this.

And he hated that he'd passed that onto Rogue, that she now bore his nightmares and probably would for a long time, even though the healing factor she'd absorbed from him had faded quickly.

It was only because Rogue had asked him that he'd come. Apparently, there was a super-duper new machine that some world-famous neurologist friend of Jean's had, and Jean thought it could help determine the origin of Rogue's mutation and, perhaps, some means of controlling it.

She asked him to come -- she didn't like hospitals any more than he did, and having Magneto's memories on top of his wasn't helping -- and he'd been helpless before her big brown eyes. Since she so rarely asked for anything, he couldn't say no, especially to something as important as this.

And then they hadn't let him stay with her. Jean and the nurses had hustled him out of the exam room before he could turn around and growl, the nurses nattering on about how the young lady had to remove her clothes, and Jean muttering about how the adamantium in his body might screw up the test.

It was only that last comment that assuaged his annoyance; he didn't want anything to go wrong, and he certainly didn't want to be the cause of any problems for Rogue. So, he found himself sitting in the hallway for forty-five minutes, muttering curses about the people who'd created the torture devices known as waiting room chairs.

He shifted again.

This whole thing was taking far longer than expected, and he was getting antsy. He wondered why he hadn't gone back out to the jeep. He was going to claw the next person who smiled condescendingly at him, or, even worse, looked past him in an effort not to have to recognize the disease and illness all around, of which they thought he was part.

The double doors swung open and he jumped up, on alert.

A kid on Canadian crutches, heavy metal braces on his legs, attempted to stomp, but his mobility aids got in the way. He flung himself into the chair next to where Logan had been sitting and released the crutches with a grunt, sending them flying across the hall.

***

If you want to help out, or have an idea or something, let me know. Email, the LJ, or the guestbook are all available for your use.

~victoria
[current mood: frustrated]
[current music: Rosalita (Come Out Tonight) - Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band]

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2002-03-21 - 10:45 a.m.

randomosity

Confidential to the kid on the train this morning: A face full of metal studs may be cool at 18, but I'm thinking you might regret those holes at 36. 'Cause let me tell you, the idea of my lips being cut open while kissing? Not attractive.

~victoria
[current mood: random]
[current music: Hey Joe - Jimi Hendrix]

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The painting is "Boreas" by John William Waterhouse. Again, not a muse, but I like her. She suits the color scheme.

The quote is from Sir Philip Sidney.

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