a fool's musings

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

Warning: Adult Content

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2002-05-19 - 11:24 p.m.

the other side of feedback

My diary, how I've missed you!

Yes, being offline all day is a sore trial for this little 'net junkie...

My thoughts on the X-Files finale are over in the LJ. Spoilers somewhat abound, so beware.

Kit answers the people who were saying that writing fanfic is different from writing profic in its craft and skills far more articulately and eloquently than I could, so go there and read it and send her much love.

Speaking of sending much love, I might as well get it out in the open.

Gonna talk about feedback again.

But not about me *getting* feedback.

Oh, no.

This is all about me sending feedback and how muchly I suck at it.

Yea, verily, I sucketh like unto a Hoover at writing feedback to other people and also at answering feedback from people when I get it.

The thing is, I have a degree in English lit. I spent years learning how to analyze and critique a text. I can do it.

And yet, when it comes to fannish writing, I don't.

I mean, I do. I can. But even when I've only got mostly good things to say, my brain seems to freeze and I end up with a "Gah. Good. You write good. Yeah. Make more."

Which is fairly useless and well, useless.

See, I really *want* to send feedback. I often feel it's a responsibility of being a fan and being in fandom. You really ought to thank the people who make things that you enjoy. And I really love getting feedback, so you know, it's all a big karmic quid pro quo, you know?

I used to save stories and try to think of all sorts of intelligent and insightful things to say about them, and you know what would happen?

Three guesses and the first two don't count...

Yup.

Feedback never got sent. Which made me feel like a jerk.

So most of the time now, I send feedback, but it's of the less than useless kind. "Thanks for sharing the story. It was really lovely."

That way, I can at least say to myself that I sent feedback and hopefully made the author happy. Because I'm happy when I get those little notes. So happy.

At least, I'm happy 'til I remember I have to answer them.

Eek.

Another thing I'm terrible at.

"I'm so glad you liked the story! Thanks so much!"

You'd think that being a writer would mean being able to write something better than that in response to a compliment.

But noooo!

*g*

So if I owe you a response, you'll get one, and I'm apologizing in advance for how sucky and insincere it'll sound. Really, "thank you" just doesn't cover it for me. And I know I sound like a big doofus in my thank you notes, but I mean every single word, just like I mean my feedback.

I wouldn't say your story moved me or made me laugh or whatever if it didn't. I wouldn't say it was good if I thought it was bad. Of course, I might also be sending you some crit, if I know you really well and think you'll handle it like an adult, but those times are few and far between now, as I don't have the time or the energy to do more than just bang out a quick gut reaction.

So uh, yeah, me talking about the other side of feedback.

I'm so sleepy.

Alyssa's Confirmation party was today, and the kids had me up early - or, rather, I got up early to pee and they wouldn't let me go back to bed.

When I was a kid, we used to get up early, sure, but we *reveled* in the lack of adult presence. We ate stuff we weren't supposed to, watched shows we weren't supposed to, did stuff we weren't supposed to. We didn't go around *waking the adults up*!

Of course, as a responsible adult now *snicker*, I couldn't recommend that course of action to the kidlets, though I was sorely tempted.

So I'm pondering the comfort sex fic and trying to stay awake.

Work tomorrow. Urgh.

Night!

~victoria

[current mood: sleepy]
[current music: Dead Souls - NIN]
[random quote: the truth is out there...]

~*~

2002-05-18 - 7:52 p.m.

river of dreams

Just reclaimed the computer from Victor and Nicole.

You know, nickjr.com is great, but I wish my dad would get off his ass and hook them up on his PC, because neither of them has used a laptop, and Nicki at least didn't quite get it. We colored Dora the Explorer pics.

I think Victor colored Blue's Clues stuff.

I had all three of them in bed with me earlier - I was actually trying to get Tricia to sleep, but that didn't quite work out as planned.

Victor keeps trying to sneak in and look at my story notebook, which, if he could actually read my handwriting, would probably scar him for life. 'Cause I'm sure there's some slash in there. I can only imagine what his parents would say to me.

Now Nicole is trying on the new bathing suit. She wants to put the bikini top on over her shirt because she doesn't want anyone to see her naked. Which is funny, 'cause everyone has seen this kid naked. She was the queen of nakey two year olds. Now that she's three, though, she's too old for that and has developed a sense of modesty or something. *G*

I figured I'd perform a public service, and tell you which stories in the Book of Dreams anthology I liked.

The one I liked best was "Each Damp Thing" by Barbara Hambly, partially because it takes place almost entirely in the Dreaming, and I'm by far most interested in Dream. And Delirium. And Death. I feel bad for Despair. I could do without Destiny and Desire.

Hambly's writing is a little florid, but the story was good.

I also liked "A Bone Dry Place" by Karen Haber. Very T2. *g* And Delirium is in it. I like the idea that the woman had tapped into something that she wasn't supposed to, and had to be helped, and that Dream helped her.

I liked "The Writer's Child" by Tad Williams more for the language and the description of what writing and reading a story really means. I especially liked this:

Without you [the reader], I am lightning flickering in the eyeless void. A story unread is a zen conundrum, a shout in an empty universe. Unread, unheard, a writer is a dying thing.

I think I might have to keep that quote someone close to hand while I'm writing.

I liked the way the girl's Byronic teddy bear took care of her, and approached Morpheus on her behalf.

Same as I liked the doll in "The Gold Gate" for being brave enough to track down Dream and ask him to stop the child's nightmare.

"The Mender of Broken Dreams" was interesting, and so was "Stopp't-Clock Yard."

I've just sent Victor off to play Go Fish with Grampa. Go me!

~*~

Watched the last half hour of "Becoming 2" this evening after the Preakness [and how cool is it that there could be a Triple Crown winner for the first time since Affirmed?], and damn, I still get misty when "Full of Grace" starts.

Now what Buffy did in B2 was heroic. All of them were.

In "The Gift", not so much, with Willow paying more attention to curing Tara than saving the world, Xander and Anya too busy shagging, etc. etc.

Now, as I said yesterday, I have *no problem* with Buffy being too burnt out and broken to do what needed doing. What I do have a problem with is 1. the writers painting her as heroic in the situation, and 2. providing them all with an out that made no freaking sense in the context of the season.

And I can't believe I'm rehashing this here and now. So I'll stop.

Managed to get Rogue off last night, though Logan wasn't much help in the end.

Poor guy. He's definitely not happy about that. I'll have to see if I can fix it.

If I ever get rid of these children...

Now they've hidden my book, so I must go.

~victoria

link



[current mood: harried]
[current music: the kids giggling]
[random quote: Calgon, take me away!]

~*~

2002-05-17 - 11:55 p.m.

heroes, email and getting Rogue off

I go through these cycles.

I was catching up on the email. I really was. I deleted whole swathes of stuff I realized I was never going to answer [on the personal side] and fic I realized I was never going to read [at least not as it sat in my inbox]. I was keeping up with the new incoming stuff. I went no mail on ClarkLex simply to stem the overwhelming tide of email.

Tonight, I just don't feel like it. I don't feel like being smart or witty or like answering email at all.

I've got poor Logan and Rogue in bed, preparing for the comfort nookie, and I haven't had time to get them going. Sigh. I plan on getting Rogue off soon, though. Mission, remember? *g*

I also need to get back to Bab!Rogue, though my enthusiasm has waned considerably, thanks to the beat down I took at the hands of the betas [and yes, we've hashed it out and agreed to disagree, but I'm still bitter. I'm a bitter woman. I'm an old woman. And I think there is something wrong with my spleen. To completely misquote Dostoyevsky *g*].

Watched the MASH reunion anniversary special tonight. Such a great show. Such. A. Great. Show.

One of the best shows ever.

Still having thoughts on many things, heroism among them.

I think part of my problem is that I don't believe in the Mythic/Iconic Hero that someone like Superman or Buffy is supposed to embody, someone so noble that they can't get their hands dirty when necessary.

Killing Ben - *Buffy* should have killed Ben. To *me*, leaving him for Giles to clean up is just *wrong*. It's Buffy abdicating her duty.

Of course, to me, the whole of The Gift was about Buffy abdicating her duty. And that's fine. That's an interesting and powerful story [well, it would have been without the Joss ex machina of the Summers blood thing but that's a whole other issue]. It's just not a heroic story [an heroic story? what *is* the rule there? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?].

Buffy sacrificing the multiverse to save her sister = not heroic, in my book.

Superman not eliminating Lex Luthor if he knows Lex is going to kill millions of people = not heroic.

Of course, there's the whole slippery slope thing with that, especially with Superman, because well, really, you don't want a fascist Superman in charge. You don't want him running around killing people willy-nilly to make the world a better place.

But dealing with a threat with commensurate -and if necessary, lethal - force and taking on the consequences of using that force - that's heroic.

It's easy to be a hero when you don't ever have to make hard choices. It's making the choices and then *living* [or not] with them afterwards that makes someone heroic to me, and in a far more interesting way.

I'm not even sure this is making sense.

So fic snip...

It was sunny the day they buried Silver Fox.

Logan stood at the gravesite, and stared into the merciless sun, eyes narrowed against the glare.

Rogue looked over at Ororo, pleading, and the weather witch inclined her head slightly. Her eyes glazed over and the sky darkened, leaden clouds rolling in from the east.

The service soon ended, and the adults and students from Xavier's School headed back toward the parking lot.

Logan stayed behind, stoic until the end, as if standing guard over the coffin of his dead lover.

Rogue settled on the grass a few feet away, waiting, watching. Her heart ached with love for him, and pain for his loss. She knew he'd never love her the way he'd loved Silver Fox, but she wanted to be there for him, because she knew he needed a friend, now more than ever.

The clouds had dispersed and the sun was setting when Logan finally headed toward the parking lot. Rogue rose, dusting grass and dirt off her gray dress. It flared about her ankles, swaying gently in the warm spring breeze as she moved.

He stopped and waited for her, all the while avoiding her gaze. She knew he hated to be pitied. She also knew how sympathy was sometimes the hardest thing to bear, so she said nothing, just wrapped herself around him on the motorcycle as he drove them home.

***

She followed him silently up to his room, her hand clasped tightly in his. He didn’t even seem to notice he’d taken it, and she bit back a sigh. She was such a fixture in his life, she could probably dance naked around the living room and he’d just ask her if she was cold. She figured it was one of the things about not aging like normal people that made him forget that she’d grown up. It irritated her, but she’d given up on trying to prove it to him.

Silver Fox had often treated her like a child, as well. She knew it wasn’t meant maliciously, that she was no competition for the lovely woman from Logan’s past, but it had rankled.

She stopped that line of thought, remembering her mother’s long-ago admonitions not to speak (or think) ill of the dead.

And really, Silver Fox had died horribly, tragically, killed by Sabretooth in a battle that never should have happened. She should have retreated with the rest of the X-Men when the soldiers arrived to take the Brotherhood into custody.

Rogue knew Logan blamed himself, and she knew he would carry it with him forever unless she somehow convinced him that it wasn’t his fault. He could play the badass loner with everyone else, but she *knew* him, knew his heart and mind and soul, and she knew he hurt, just like everybody else. And it was her job to make sure that hurt was bearable when it couldn’t be avoided altogether.

She’d long since resigned herself to living like a nun, in service to the Wolverine instead of to the distant and wrathful God of her childhood. She knew Jean and Scott felt she was throwing herself away, that just because she *couldn’t* touch didn’t mean she couldn’t fall in love and have a relationship. They didn’t realize she’d done so the day he’d saved her life on the Statue of Liberty, if not the day before, when he gave her a ride in his trailer.

He dropped heavily onto the bed; the sound of creaking springs brought her back to the present. He still had hold of her hand, so she curled up next to him, dangling her still-booted feet off the bed and resting her head on his chest.

They slept for a while, and when she woke, it was dark. She could tell Logan was already awake, his body tense beneath hers.

~*~

I have a couple things I'm still trying to work out here, but the main one is the Logan POV. I know what Logan is thinking and feeling here, but I don't know if the reader needs to know it yet.

Or if it could possibly come in after the sex? Because the sex - it's not going to end in big declarations of love. At least, not at this time.

So ...

Oooh!

I know.

Thank you all for your support, and good night.

Get home safe.

~victoria
gonna go get Rogue off now...

link



[current mood: inspired]
[current music: Mets-Padres in the background]
[random quote: pull down your pants and slide on the ice]

~*~

2002-05-17 - 3:08 p.m.

an exercise in ego-boo

Liz Barr was talking about the bits of your stories that are "just right" or "perfect" or that work exactly as you think they should.

I've begun going through my own stories, looking for such sections, and over in the LJ, I've listed two, and the reasons why I like 'em.

~victoria

[current mood: egotistical]
[current music: The Boys Are Back In Town - Thin Lizzie]
[random quote: I don't slur; I mumble.]

~*~

2002-05-17 - 12:20 p.m.

The Shiny, a follow-up

Modified from comments I made way back a few days ago in Lori's blog in response to her response to The Shiny, I am still feeling the need to more clearly articulate my position for those amongst you who may not have it clear yet.

Mostly, though, I'm doing it because I hate the idea of people willfully misunderstanding me or twisting my words, and I want my really and for true opinion out in the open in words of small syllables. Willful obtuseness drives me up the wall. Seriously. People who know me and want to get under my skin do it, and even though I *know* they're doing it to irk me, I can *feel* my blood pressure rising and the urge to scream "What are you? Stupid?" and shake them becomes almost unbearable, and I must remove myself from their vicinity immediately or become a danger to both myself and others.

Anyhow, I said specifically that *I* do not think that someone's high status ought to protect them from being thwapped when they say something stupid, nor should it prevent people from disagreeing with them in public, if they truly disagree and aren't just trying to score points against the latest BNF in some obscure childish game. I also said that I don't believe it's right to dump on someone because they're low status or have no "profile" - if they're right, they're right, and if they have an odd opinion but are willing to explain it and discuss it like a reasonable human being, I'm down with that.

I don't believe that because one doesn't have a certain measure of status, one is ripe for kicking. I'm an equal opportunity kicker.

I can only speak to fandoms in which I've participated in one way or another - X-Men, Buffy/Angel, Smallville, West Wing and Homicide.

I have seen people back down from an argument because of who their interlocuter is in the hierarchy of a fandom. I've seen it many times, along with the accompanying bitching and moaning about said BNF [for lack of a better term] behind his/her back. (I'm not even talking about "the lurkers support me in email" nonsense. I'm talking about regular posters bitching about a BNF in another, closed forum, ala chat or email, and I'm talking about both the discussion/newsgroup end of fandom and the ficcing end of it).

I have seen people gang up on people who express an outré opinion, simply because the person *wasn't* a newsgroup regular, or well-known or someone of status within a fandom.

I was just using this muse kerfuffle as an example of how status can protect one, or not, in fandom.

I hope that's clearer.

As to why the muse thing in particular has spawned so much discussion - I think it hits at the very heart of how, and more importantly *why* most people write, and while I think many of the participants in the discussion [and you can scan down my friends list and follow links from there to see how it's spread across fandoms] will take criticism of their *work* with equanimity [at least in public], I don't think most people, myself included, will sit down and take a hit on the methods and motivations we use to write.

The internet is often like a big game of telephone. One provides links to something, but as with people's responses to what I, or others, write, I have no control over whether they click on them or not.

~*~

Sarah T. and Jenn are having a very interesting discussion of morality, ethics and heroism [of the fictional sort]. I have thoughts, which I'm still trying to pull together, based on my reading of Clark/Superman, "The Gift" and real people. *G*

In the interim, however, to sum it up best, Beth [not our Beth but another one], paraphrased my very favoritest Homicide car conversation, which I will now reproduce here in full:

BAYLISS: Tell me that you don't find all of this porno stuff, all this phone sex and S&M stuff, disgusting.

PEMBLETON: Well, Bayliss, that's just the way of the world. It's been this way forever. When they dug through the ruins of Pompeii, they found, written on the walls: 'An vere fama susrrat grandia te medii tenta vorare viri.' It's a long, roundabout way of saying 'fellatio.' St. Ignatius High, New York City. Yeah, I had to do something to make Latin class interesting.

BAYLISS: Granted, listen, perversion has existed since the beginning of time. Alright, we see it everywhere, but that doesn't mean that I am willing to accept that.

PEMBLETON: Well, in any given ten square feet of this great country, there are people who think it's perverted for a person of your color and my color to sleep together.

BAYLISS: No, Frank. I'm not talking about prejudice. What I'm talking about is kinky sexual acts. Dehumanizing acts between two human beings, alright. Sex is love. Period. This I believe.

PEMBLETON: Oh, yeah right. So if a beautiful woman passes you on the street, you smile at her. Ooh, she smiles back. You're not thinking about marriage, you're thinking of her in a French maid's outfit. Bent over a straight back chair -

BAYLISS: No, no, I don't. I don't think that way, Frank.

PEMBLETON: Oh, well you're either a liar or you're a moron. If you're a liar, then fine. At least you've got a chance. But if you're a moron, then you're just a bore, y'know. I'm gonna have to take you out back and shoot you just to put you out of your misery.

BAYLISS: Wait a minute. I don't think dirty so I can't understand the criminal mind. Is that it, huh? I mean... I... I... I don't want to kill someone, so I can't get into the killer's head, is that it Frank? I don't think about molesting some child so I don't how to investigate Adena Watson's murder, is that what you're saying?

PEMBLETON: Then you really are a moron, aren't you!?

BAYLISS: No, I'm not a moron, Frank!

PEMBLETON: OK, let me tell you something. We're all guilty of something. Cruelty, or greed, or going 65 in a 55-mile-per-hour zone. But you know what? You want to think about yourself as the fair-haired choirboy, you go ahead.

BAYLISS: Alright. OK, so, what're you saying, huh?

PEMBLETON: I'm saying you got a darkness. You, Tim Bayliss, you got a darkness inside of you. You gotta know the darker, uglier sides of yourself. You gotta recognize them so they're not constantly sneaking up on you. You gotta love them 'cause they're part of you. Because along with your virtues, they make you who you are. Virtue isn't virtue until it slams up against vice. So consequently, your virtue's not real virtue, until it's been tested. Tempted.

From the episode "A Many Splendored Thing" (a transcript of which can be found here for those who are interested).

Very Miltonic, our Frank is, though I'm sure Milton would be horrified to hear it, seeing as how he loathed the Jebbies with the passion of a million fiery suns.

God, I love Homicide.

Anyhow, a little overly caffeinated, so having trouble getting the thoughts in order.

My feelings about Buffy - and Clark when he takes on the mantle of Superman - can be summed up in this little convo I wrote between Scott and Rogue for the psychokiller fic, which came to mind when I was imagining what Giles really should have said to Buffy all those times she complained about wanting a life. And I have no doubt I'll be excoriated for this, because it's not nice and it's certainly not fair, and Buffy, at least, *didn't* choose to be the Slayer, so it's not quite applicable to her, but still, it would have felt really good to say it to her [yeah, I know Giles never would, but damn, *I* wanted to. *g*]

Here it is. I think I showed it to youse already, but I've never let that stop me before. *g*

"You're supposed to come when the Professor calls," Scott said. His voice was calm, clipped. Only someone who knew him as well as she would know how angry he was, and how tightly he was reining himself in.

"I have a life," she answered flippantly. "I'm not just going to drop it when you call." She bent and sank the two-ball.

"No," he said furiously. "Newsflash, Rogue. You have no life. You have a *job*, and when it calls, you jump."

She glanced at Logan, who watched impassively. She'd get no help from that quarter, she realized.

"That's easy for you to say, Mr. Happily Married." She dropped the seven-ball in a corner pocket. "Don't be such a fucking hypocrite, Scott."

She could practically see the steam rising from his ears. "Do you think it's easy?" he asked, and even through the visor she could feel the weight of his stare. "You think it's easy knowing that I could order Jean -- or any one of you -- into a situation that causes her death? You think it's great that I could watch my wife die -- or she could watch me? Or that she could be sitting at home waiting for me, while I'm hurt or dead thousands of miles away? Is that what you want?"

"I want that choice. I want a life."

"Well you made the choice two years ago when you put on that uniform. You, of *all* people, know how dangerous what we do is, and how very necessary. If you want to walk away, fine. But make a commitment and stick to it. I'm sick of having to feel sorry for you."

She gasped. Outrage and hurt warred within her. No one had ever spoken to her like that, least of all Scott. "Feel sorry for me? I thought *you*, of all people, would understand what it's like--"

"Yeah, yeah, never to be able to touch. I get it, Rogue. We all get it. And I'm sick of seeing you use it as a lever to get what you want, and an excuse for everything that goes wrong in your life. Jesus. Grow up, already." He stared at her for a moment, and she had to fight the tears burning behind her eyes. "You've been drinking, I see. So you couldn't come on the mission anyway."

Heh.

Go Scott!

I have another Buffy question, which came up the other night. All those Spuffy fans on atbvs [and you know who you are, though I don't know if you're reading this] who bitched and moaned about Riley's "My skin is humming" line in "Doomed", claiming it was creepy and his behavior was stalkery... how did you justify all of Spike's stalkery behavior after railing at Riley's comparatively minor infractions?

That's okay. I don't expect an answer, though it'd be nice to get one.

~victoria
caffeinated, crampy and looking to piss *everyone* off.

link



[current mood: bitchy, crampy and foul-mouthed]
[current music: Telephone Line - ELO]
[random quote: Virtue isn't virtue until it slams up against vice. So consequently, your virtue's not real virtue, until it's be]

~*~

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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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