a fool's musings
Fool, said my muse to me,
look in thy heart and write...
Warning: Adult Content
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2002-06-24 - 11:54 p.m.
Diamonds are a girl's best friend
Been listening to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack Melissa burned for me (thanks, chica! Between her and Pete, I'm awash in goodies. Aren't they the sweetest pair of lovebirds?) and it struck me.
Moulin Rouge is basically one big songfic.
Yeah, I know, duh.
But seriously.
I realize it steals elements from La Boheme and Camille and every other tragic love story ever, but it *feels* like fanfic.
Songfic, to be precise.
Incredibly inspired songfic in some cases (Like a Virgin will NEVER be the same for me, which is a *good* thing, *g* as I'm no Madge fan), but songfic nonetheless, and not the type of songfic I pride myself in writing (go here for my little dissertation on songfic, or, rather, fiction inspired by music), but the kind that litters FF.net, that most people roll their eyes at. You know, main character channels Eponine and sings "On My Own" and the love of her life realizes he's been remiss and rushes to confess his love. Dawson's Creek, in other words.
It's still satisfying viscerally, if you're like me and love a good hooker-falls-in-love story (oh come on! You know when it's me there's going to be hookerfic eventually. It's just a matter of time.), along with Ewan and "Your Song", the movie works, even though when you think about it... it's like "Rent." It's best not to think too hard about it. *g*
Anyhow, I'm surprised at how much of the music I like, actually, though I'd MUCH prefer the original "Lady Marmalade." And I'm disappointed because I wanted that hilarious version of "Like A Virgin," but I especially like all the sappy romantic claptrap Ewan (I suppose I should refer to him as Christian, eh?), I mean, Christian spouts in "Your Song" and the love medley, as well as "Someday I'll Fly Away" and yes, even "Come What May".
The one that sticks with me most, though, is the ending version of "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend", which is just a FABulous remix of the song. And considering my general views on Indian dance music, this is really shocking. (Trust me, if you were subjected to it at all hours at extremely loud volume, you wouldn't like it either. And well, I have other quarrels with it, so let's leave the subject alone before I get into trouble.)
Huh.
~victoria
[current mood: thoughtful]
[current music: Hindi Sad Diamonds - Moulin Rouge soundtrack]
[random quote: A kiss on the hand can be quite continental, but diamonds are a girl's best friend]
~*~
2002-06-24 - 5:21 p.m.
Done!
Whee!
Caliper is with the betas and should be done sometime this week.
Genfic off my chest.
Now I have to figure out what's next.
I had the most perverse L/R/S/J fic in my head last night, where ROgue and Jean insist on a foursome so they can get all their tension with each other out, but I don't know if it's workable.
Might be a fun sex romp. We'll see.
In other news, Pete found the book I was looking for, and I've since ordered it from abebooks.com.
All bow before Pete, God of Librarians everywhere.
And just for fun...some song lyrics I love:
When routine bites hard, and ambitions are low
And resentment rides high, but emotions won't grow
And we're changing our ways, taking different roads
Then love, love will tear us apart again --
Why is the bedroom so cold? You've turned away on your side
Is my timing that flawed - have our feelings run dry?
Yet there's still this appeal that we've kept through our lives
Love, love will tear us apart again --
You cry out in your sleep - all my failings expose
There's a taste in my mouth, as desperation takes hold
Just that something so good just can't function no more
When love, love will tear us apart again --Love Will Tear Us Apart -- Joy Division
[current mood: happy]
[current music: Smalltown (?) - John Mellencamp]
[random quote: love, love will tear us apart, again...]
~*~
2002-06-24 - 12:45 p.m.
choosing what to read
So with all this talk about genre and fic and gen fic v. shipper(slash) fic, romance v. action etc. etc. etc. I got to thinking about what appeals to me as a *reader* and, more importantly for this little essay, how I choose what I read.
My reading time is severely curtailed these days, and I no longer make an attempt at everything that passes through my inbox.
I have a system of sorts. It's very arbitrary, I'm the first to admit that. I may be missing out on some spectacular fic, but, c'est la vie.
It's a series of questions I ask myself whenever a fic pops up in my mailbox (I should really do a flow chart, but that would be exceptionally nerdy, and I couldn't be bothered to finesse it so it'd work in the diary (i.e., saving it as a .jpg and uploading the graphic.).
So, first question:
Do I know the author?
If no, it gets put to the side. We'll come back to this.
If I know her, do I generally like her work?
If no, I sometimes open it and skim the pairing and summary. If it sounds interesting, I keep it. If it doesn't, or it's got horrible misspellings in the headers, out it goes.
Usually, after three tries, and I still haven't liked anything she's produced, out it goes.
Arbitrary, but useful. There are whole lists of people whose fic I delete on sight. Nice? No. But good for time management and also helps keep my hair on my head instead of me tearing it out at the latest iteration of "Donnatella, I love you so much!" "Oh, Joshua! Kiss my albalaster (sic) skin, right here, in the bullpen! Let us show the world our lvoe (sic), politics be damend (sic)!"
If I generally like an author's stuff, I save it for reading later. All the things I look at for authors I don't know then come into play with authors I do know and like.
Now, if I don't know the author, and have heard nothing about her from various friends (I'll give people a chance if friends I trust rec them), my little flow chart goes something like this:
Pairing
Summary
Spelling/grammar in the headers
Author's notes
Formatting of email
First three paragraphs
Yes. I filter on pairing.
In XMM, for example, L/R by unknown authors always gets opened and looked over, L/O or L/S (or various other pairings like S/J, S/R, G/O, X/M) gets a chance, L/J does not. Not unless I know the author and am willing to squick myself beyond most people's capacity for squickiness.
Summary is important as well.
First of, people, see it up there? It's S U M M A R Y. Summery is what the weather is right now here in old Gotham. (Yeah, I'm a bitch. Get over it.)
An intriguing summary will hook me. Mileage varies on this, but I like the quote from the story method, because it 1. Gives me an idea of the writing in the fic, and 2. Can indicate the tone of the story. I don't want heavy and depressing if I'm down already or in the mood for light and romantic.
Ooh, I forgot.
Posts with 1/? get deleted automatically these days.
Posts with 1/34, well, if there's a URL listed, I'll save the first email and delete all the others, and just read the thing on your website.
Time, people. I don't have as much as I used to to devote to fic reading (though I still have more than many other people)
Anyhow, summary plays an important role. As I said, most L/R fics from unknown authors will get a go-round from me, and here pairing and parts is the most important.
But if it's a pairing I don't normally read, or a gen fic, I tend to read the summary and see if it sounds interesting.
Author's notes - this sounds bitchy, but if the author's notes are all, "I wrote this in 15 minutes in chem class!!!! Pls read and revue! Clark is SOOO HOT!! Kewl!"
That's a pass.
So is, "Rouge and Magento fihgt the X-Men. Wrote this at 2am and its not beta'd. Positive feeebdack ONLY!!"
Immediately deleted: "Send feedback or I won't release the next part!" or "Should I write chapter 2?"
How the fuck do I know if you should write chapter two? As far as I'm concerned, you're the only one who should make that decision, and if there's a chance you're *not* going to write chapter two, even if you're Ernest Fucking Hemingway, I am not going to get caught up in a WIP by an unknown with no track record. If I know you and know you're generally good about finishing stuff in a timely fashion, then okay. Otherwise, no dice, chica.
(Work interruptions... grrr...)
Uh, okay, pairing, summary, author's notes...
Formatting!
Yes. Turn off your smart quotes, please. Also, replace all your ellipses with three periods and your em dashes with single hyphens. I realize Word thinks it's being helpful by inserting these things, but email doesn't like them.
I realize you think your story simply *must* be formatted and sent in html, but I have my Yahoo set to no html. I don't want it. And it makes your email look all wonky.
Also, two spaces - I repeat, TWO SPACES - between paragraphs. For screen readability.
New paragraphs for each speaker.
These are not things anyone who has posted more than once to ANY internet forum should question. These are accepted standards on Usenet, on mailing lists, freaking everywhere legible fiction is conceivably archived.
Why is it so hard for some people?
Ahem...
After formatting, I skim the first few paragraphs. If it strikes my interest, I keep reading. If I don't like it, I hit delete.
There you go.
That's the system.
Now, what I like and don't like, what I consider "danger signals" etc., that's a horse of a different color, but I think you can tell by this that I'm fairly persnickety in my old age. I mean, I require correct spelling and punctuation (a typo or two is acceptable. I mean, we all make 'em. I'm talking rampant typos and just general disregard for all rules of the English language), legible formatting and a pairing I like.
Not real hard, right?
After that, it gets into intangibles and everybody is different.
Sigh.
A flow chart *would* be really cool, wouldn't it?
~victoria
PS: All spelling errors and typos are, of course, intentional in this entry. Except for the ones that aren't. *g*
link
[current mood: geeky]
[current music: The Cradle Will Rock - Van Halen]
[random quote: Buffy: Do they know about 'fun' in England? Giles: Yes, but it's considered very poor taste to have any.]
~*~
2002-06-24 - 10:43 a.m.
oh, no!
Edited to add: panicked prematurely. Yes, the diskette was fucked, but I have my laptop here, so it's all good. Just copied the files I wanted to work on to a new disk and I'm good to go. Whew... Not that I'm writing fic at work. Oh, no sir. Not on BEMC's time. ~*~ Eep! My diskette is not working. ::hyperventilates:: My diskette with Consumption, Caliper and various other fics is giving me some error I've NEVER EVEN HEARD OF.... A:\ is not accessible. Data error (cyclic redundancy check) Oh, this is bad on so very many levels... ~victoria
ready to breakdown in tears...
[current mood: upset]
[current music: Hey, You've Got to Hide Your Love Away - Eddie Vedder]
[random quote: Anything that can go wrong, will.]
~*~
2002-06-23 - 11:42 p.m.
dance with who brung ya
Jenn writes:
one of the one things that Alara and Minisinoo both cover that I have a halfway house agreement with is the concept of range.
The truth is, most writers are good at about one-maybe three different types of stories. Even good writers. Even gifted writers. Even Hemingway's bastard son. It's not really something anyone can fix. Granted, with careful work and attention and determination, you can probably get competent outside your natural area of expertise and/or passion. But when I say type, I'm not talking types of pairings, but types of STORY.
And in fanfic, I stretch myself because it's fun very occasionally.[...]
And I think, personally, all writers should try their hand at something that's very hard for them to do, even if they're pretty sure it'll end up a mess.
I don't disagree with this at all.
I have on occasion tried to stretch myself as a writer.
I've written various tenses and POVs (except second, which I loathe), used various characters to narrate, tried happy, sad and in-between. Hell, I've written Logan/Jean (once). Just to prove I could.
Admittedly, it was the L/J fic only an L/R shipper could have written, but I did it and managed not to puke while I did. It's even fairly well-written, though it could use another polish.
I advise everybody to branch out. I've written Jean's POV, even though I don't care for her and don't understand her. I've written Storm, who I don't get. I've written Logan and Lex, both of whom I get but am never sure of their voices, and I've written characters I'm comfortable with (Cordelia, Clark), and characters I know so well I practically live inside them (Rogue, Scott, Chloe).
I've learned what I'm best at is character vignettes, and romances, all under 20K words. That's my comfort zone.
Oh, and nasty little noir stories that stick with you, and hooker/stripper fic.
I write gen, slash and het, but I know that my strengths are in the light romance area, with the heavy emotional scenes and little to no action of the action/adventure type.
So yes, I stretch, but in the end, you dance with who brung ya, you play to your strengths, and a dozen other cliches that I could trot out if I could remember them.
I'm all for pushing your boundaries as a writer. I think working in various fandoms helps with that as well (for fic writers) as it makes you jump from one universe to another. I think that keeping in canon can also force you as a writer to do some very creative thinking, that always going AU can't, or won't. AU is a great crutch for fanficcers, and while yes, everything we write is AU to a degree, to constantly turn your back on established canon is... it can make things very easy.
Example: Rogue's mutation.
I *love* Rogue's mutation. Just like I *love* Angel's curse.
Neither of them makes a lick of sense in the real world, but thematically, and characterwise, they are pure gold for a writer.
Rogue's mutation is what makes her so compelling to me. To take that away with a wave of your hand and two sentences at the beginning of a fic?
Bleh.
Okay, for a quickie PWP, I can see it (and I've done it), but otherwise, you're doing serious damage to the character, because while I can see her learning to deal or even learning to control it, that right there is worth a story to me, so just saying, "Rogue had learned to control her powers a month ago" and going on as if she never had the mutation at all... I just boggle.
::boggles::
It's a crutch, so you don't have to write about scarves and gloves and impediments to sweaty L/R sex. I understand. Believe me I do.
But I don't think it addresses the character of Rogue very well (unless she's still dealing with learning to control and it's all freaky and new to her again, or something), and I think any writer in the fandom who deals with Rogue in any ship, shape or capacity as a main character needs to address it.
Same with Clark and his powers.
Me, I don't buy the "Clark gives up his powers to live happily ever after with Lex" storyline.
I didn't buy it in Superman 2 when I was 10, and I don't buy it now.
And I'm digressing.
My point, and I did have one, is that stretching is good. We should all do things that make us uncomfortable, that set the butterflies loose in our tummies when we post.
But there is absolutely nothing wrong with writing to your strengths, and I find that a lot of good writers stumble when they try to get all experimental and stylistic, when they start believing that they have to be all experimental and deep and meaningful and forget that they're telling a damn story to entertain and enlighten.
And damn, that sentence was convoluted, so if you're still following me, bless you.
I have been working on and off on this entry for about an hour now, so I'll stop here.
The thing is this: yes, stretch. Please do. I try to. But also, don't get so caught up in the stretch that you forget what you do well, because you can't do everything well, and doing anything well at all is an achievement that should be celebrated.
~victoria
link
[current mood: ornery]
[current music: The Great Pretender - uh, The Platters?]
[random quote: Frank: \"You can't believe in fun. Fun is not a faith.\" Mike: \"Fun is my god, Frank. I worship fun.\" H:LotS]
~*~
2002-06-23 - 4:15 p.m.
All Apologies
The fabulous (and convalescing) Jenny-O talked about how in fandom, the average age seems to be 12 or so.
She writes:
Sweet, sweet, petty fandom. Exorcizing the vicious 12 year old girl in all of us.
It's true. While men never mature past the age of 7, women seem to constantly revert back to age 14 or so.
The pettiness, the scorn for those who don't measure up to whatever "the cool girls" (fill in your cabal of choice here) insist is "cool," the cliques and the anti-cliques and the alliances change so quickly sometimes even a scorecard wouldn't help.
I've made mistakes, too. Said things in anger that I shouldn't have, and while I'm not going to say that I'm terribly upset about being offensive, I do realize that on occasion, I could have been more diplomatic.
So, I'm sorry for the manner in which I've said some things, though not, I repeat, not, sorry at all for the substance of what I've said.
As always, feel free to email me or sign the guestbook or the LJ if you have something to say.
~*~
Speaking of the LJ, when I get through here, I'll be heading over there to write my thoughts about "The Bourne Identity", which Dad and I saw this afternoon.
I liked it, and more importantly, I actually *bought* Matt Damon as an action hero, which I didn't think I would.
His South Boston/shanty Irish face *works*. He looks like a guy who's spent most of his adult life learning how to kill people.
~*~
Other good stuff: Andraste on how to keep a fandom going, Beth on genre and pairing, and Min on character assassination.
Basically, I agree with most everything this smart ladies have to say.
and they're saving me the trouble of having to write more about these topics (at least for the nonce), so I like them even more, because that means maybe, just *maybe*, I can finally finish Caliper.
~victoria
link
[current mood: comfy]
[current music: How You Remind Me - Nickelback]
[random quote: By day they churn butter and worship according to their own beliefs...and by night they solve crimes. Pilgrim detectives!]
~*~
2002-06-22 - 10:35 p.m.
May I and the 12 hour rule
I'm considering breaking the 12 hour rule.
Have I ever mentioned the 12 hour rule?
Generally speaking, the 12 hour rule is enforced on weekends and vacations. It states that one may not go to bed unless it's 12 hours since one got up.
It makes me feel like I'm not *completely* sleeping my life away, though I would if I could.
Just got back from Marg and Anthony's. BBQ for Aunt Elizabeth's birthday. Thought we were going to have a big game of May I, but we didn't.
May I, for those of you who have never played it, is a form of rummy. This gives the basics, though some of the rules they list further down are not rules we play by (mostly the one about using the same suit for two sequences. We don't allow that in our version of the game. And also, when we run out of cards -- and we have -- we turn the discards over and use that, and if there still aren't enough cards, we've been know to add a third deck of cards).
Great game. Long, though. Especially the last hand.
But even without that, it was a great day.
Went in the pool for the first time this summer.
I love the smell of chlorine and Waterbabies on my skin. Fresh-mown grass and lighter fluid...
How can people not love summer?
Yeah, bugs (my god, the two slugs out on the deck tonight were freaking huge) and humidity, I getcha, but ... sun, the beach, the pool, going barefoot, endless hours of light, barbecues and baseball, fireflies and the smell of morning after it rains...
There's something wonderful about the languid late afternoon heat weighing down your skin, the firm press of *air* against your body, the glimmering golden haze that burnishes everything, the fresh coolness of the morning under an overcast you know is going to burn away. The silence and cold damp sand of the beach at 7am before anyone else has arrived...
The scent of chlorine and coppertone clinging to your skin at the end of the day...
Yeah, I really am nasally fixated.
I can't not love summer, because all the smells and sounds and feelings just remind me of all the good times that came before.
~victoria
link
[current mood: exhausted]
[current music: silence]
[random quote: Summertime and the living is easy...]
~*~
2002-06-22 - 12:19 a.m.
caliper
Been slogging along on Caliper.
Here's a snip. Maybe this will help me get inspired to finish it, because right now it's reading really labored to me.
Caliper
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 much like 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, some world-famous neurologist friend of Jean's had a super-duper new machine that Jean thought could help determine the origin of Rogue's mutation and, perhaps, some means of controlling it.
Rogue had asked him to come -- she didn't like hospitals any more than he did, and having Magneto's memories of the malevolent Nazi doctors didn't help -- and he'd been powerless 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. The nurses had hustled him out of the exam room, nattering on about how the young lady had to remove her clothes and he couldn't be there while she did. When he protested, Jean patted his arm and quickly said something 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, cursing 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'd already reconnoitered and found absolutely nothing of interest in the dun-colored hallway. He hadn't wanted to stray far at first, in case Rogue needed him, and then because he thought she'd be done soon. But now he wondered about going 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 pain 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 down the hall, 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.
Logan looked away, not wanting to make the kid feel self-conscious, but it was too late.
"You got a problem, mister?"
Logan bit his lip to keep from smiling. The kid had guts.
"No."
"Then what are you looking at?"
Logan shrugged. "You've got a pretty good arm."
The kid snorted. "Don't matter, since my legs are all fucked." He watched Logan, waiting for a reaction.
Logan didn't give him the one he was looking for. "Too bad."
"I never liked baseball anyway."
"Like watching paint dry," Logan agreed, sitting down again. He could do this. He could handle one scared kid. And Rogue would be out soon, he hoped, and he could leave before they got to the heart-to-heart stage of the conversation. "Hockey. Now, there's a sport for ya."
"Won't ever get to play that either."
"You never know. You get those things off, you'll be able to do all sorts of shit, right?"
"Don't try to comfort me."
"I'm not. I'm just saying--"
"Don't, all right? I hear about it all the time. 'This is for your own good, Ray. You'll feel much better after. You'll be *normal*. You should be grateful we can do this for you.'"
"Fuckers," Logan said.
The kid, Ray, looked at him in surprise. "What?"
"Nasty fuckers. It sucks. Being different. And it hurts. Having all that shit done to you. Believe me, I know. And people -- they tell you to suck it up, right? Be a man?" Ray nodded. "But you can't. You're not old enough to go out and get drunk, which is what most men would do. You just have to smile and nod, right?"
"Yeah."
"That sucks." Logan nodded firmly, congratulating himself on handling the kid. He could do this. Hell, this kid was a cakewalk compared with some of the kids he saw at Xavier's.
"How do you know?" Ray asked, breaking the silence.
"What?"
"You said you know how it feels. How?"
But he knew the kid would smell bullshit a mile away, would know if he lied and would close off if he patronized. That made up his mind for him.
*Snikt*
"Shit," The kid jumped out of his chair, awkward on wobbly legs.
"Yeah," Logan replied. "They fucked me up but good. At least your doctors are trying to help you." He retracted the claws and kept himself still as the kid leaned in to stare at his already-healed knuckles. He raised his hand so the boy didn't topple.
Ray took his hand, and he forced himself not to flinch. He still wasn't comfortable being touched by strangers, though he knew this kid was no threat at all.
"Why?"
Another shrug. What to tell him? "Who knows? Because they could, I guess. They wanted to see what would happen. I don't know."
"You didn't ask for it?"
Logan made a sound that might have been a laugh. "I don't remember. They fucked with my head, too. I suppose it's possible. I don't like to think so, though. I mean--"
"Maybe you thought they were helping you."
"I don't think so. How could these things," he unsheathed a single claw and retracted it quickly, "be helpful? They make me a freak."
"You like to drink and you hate hospitals. Seems pretty normal to me. And what happened to you -- that just made you stronger. Better. I'm *disabled*. I'm a freaking gimp. A cripple. Fucking Tiny Tim."
"Hey, there are people who have it a lot worse than you, kid," Logan replied, thinking of the young woman whose request had brought him here. "My friend, the one I'm waiting for -- she can't ever touch anybody with her bare skin. And another guy I work with -- he has to wear special glasses all the time, or he could kill people just by opening his eyes.
"So I'm thinking you don't have it to bad. Sure, the surgery sucks and the crutches are a hassle, but in a few years, you'll be fine. My friends live with their shit every day, and will for the rest of their lives."
"Bullshit. I've seen all sorts of stuff about muties on the news. You get cool shit like X-Ray vision or super-speed, not killing people with your eyes and skin."
"Everybody's got problems, Ray."
"I don't believe you."
Logan flashed the claws. "You think I live in the suburbs and work a nine-to-five job? Think again." His voice was low, intense. He felt the strong need to get through to this kid, or he'd grow up bitter, and Logan didn't want that. There were too many bitter, old-before-their-time kids running around in the world, and he found himself feeling for each and every one these days. "I've seen a lot of weird shit," he continued, "and lived through worse. Everybody's got problems. Everybody's fucked up in some way. It's how you deal with it that matters."
"Yeah, but nobody knows -- nobody can see you're screwed up." Ray stood again. "Look at me. *Everybody* looks at me. Everybody knows my legs didn't grow right." He tapped the metal brace on his leg. "And nobody leaves me alone. I wish sometimes that people would just leave me the fuck alone, instead of always trying to make me feel better."
Logan nodded. "Believe me, I get that. I don't get to be alone as much as I'd like anymore. There's always people around, getting in my shit." Which wasn't true, exactly. Nobody interfered with Wolverine unless they were willing to face the claws. Well, nobody but Rogue, and where the hell *was* she, anyway? She'd handle this a lot better than he was. And Jeannie could do her Comforting Doctor routine, and it would all work out okay.
Except that he knew this boy wouldn't be okay, not for a long time. And he understood what not having control of your body -- what having your body betray you -- felt like. Every mutant did.
"I used to live alone. Traveled a lot, you know? Lived hand to mouth for a lotta years." He was almost nostalgic for those days, and Ray picked up on that.
"Do you *want* to be alone again?"
"Yeah, sometimes." Then he thought about it. "But not really. I've met some people who mean a lot to me. They bug the hell out of me, and there are too damn many teenagers around all the time, but the good stuff outweighs the bad."
~*~
And that's where I am right now.
I should really give Meg co-writing credit, since most of the ideas are hers, even if I reworded them slightly. If it's good, she probably wrote it or suggested it. If it's bad, it's me sinking beneath the mush...
Feel free to comment.
~victoria
link
[current mood: sleepy and frustrated]
[current music: ]
[random quote: ]
~*~
2002-06-21 - 3:45 p.m.
there is no deeper way than this...
Jenn has posted entries here, here and here on the genre debate, in response to the comments on Andraste's original post (and the follow ups) and in response to Min's Reclaiming Philia.
I don't disagree that friendship is a powerful motivator, a love that can be deep and passionate etc. as any love that includes sex as a component. But as a *writer*, I'm far more interested in writing a love story based on eros (as it's being defined here - romance, not necessarily erotica), than one based on agape, philia or familial love (and those loves stories are non-sexual, just so we don't think I'm endorsing incest as a good thing, though if well-handled it can be an interesting topic for a story).
As a *reader*... as a reader of *fanfic*, to be very specific, I want romance. I read many, many other types of stories in original fiction (plus romance, if you look at Wednesday's entry on my earlier book-buying binge), but my whole purpose in reading and writing fanfic is to create/fix the things I think are wrong, like the fact that the movie people will never pair Rogue with Logan or that Clark and Lex aren't officially canonically in love.
I think that that is the central point - why people write what they write is something that can't be pinned down by anyone else, really (though many an armchair psychologist has tried, myself included). And really, writing and reading are such personal experiences... I can't tell what's going to resonate with me before it happens. If you had told me the Spuffy was coming - and the possibility of a soul for Spike -- two seasons ago, I'd have been *all* over that (maybe). But when it happened - nothing. Nada. Zilch. I admire it as an interesting look at Buffy and her continual falling into unhealthy, unequal relationships, but it doesn't resonate with me, or call my name in the middle of the night, begging me to write fic. And I certainly have no desire to *read* the Spuffy, and Spuffy is mostly what Buffy fic is (except for the lovely Jenny-O's Wesley/Lilah stuff, which is quite an addictive pairing and not about love at all, but instead, fear and loathing. With sex. *g*)
However, I find reading stories about say, Dawn and Spike, not as lovers but as *friends*, extremely interesting. I love - loved *sniff* - the dynamic between Tara and Buffy, and would have loved to see more of that, or more Tara-Dawn or Tara-Xander on the show, so if there's genfic that addresses this stuff, point me at it.
In Smallville, I love all the Martha-Lex interaction stories. I love the Lex-Lillian stories. I like seeing my boy mothered. *g* I think there's a lot of room for genfic with Pete and Clark, or Pete and Chloe and Clark, just as there is/was with Buffy, Willow and Xander, or Cordy, Wesley and Gunn.
I've enjoyed the Smallville/Buffy crossovers that include Clark and Dawn running away and into each other.
Hell, I'm writing a Smallville/Angel crossover that has CLex undertones, but is all about the Lex/Cordelia *friendship* or something like it.
But as a writer? Not particularly interested in *writing* those stories (except the last, obviously). Hell, I'm writing a gen fic now about Logan meeting a kid and it's *sucking ass*, because I just don't write those types of mentor/student relationships well. I'm trying, but it's not happening. I mean, Meg has thrown me some delicious stuff and I plan on using all of it, but thinking it up? I mean, thinking about how Logan should deal with this kid who is having numerous surgeries and no guarantee that he'll be in good shape afterward? Logan the superhealer and the gimpy kid? It should work and not be too saccharine, and yet, while I once had the perfect dialogue, I didn't get up and write it, choosing to sleep instead and...
But I digress.
No one is interested in my struggles writing Caliper. *g*
Back to the topic at hand.
Where was I?
Oh, yes.
I can't even tell what's going to spark with me as a writer, so I'll be damned before I tell anyone else what pairings or genres they should write.
Do I encourage writers I like to write what I want to read?
You bet I do.
Do I *discourage* them from writing what they want to write?
Never.
I'm sure there are wonderful people out there writing fic I will never, ever read because it's Spuffy or Jeanverine or Lexney or whatever, and those are pairings I don't like and won't read. There are people out there writing fic about Big Issues and Heavy Themes, and unless they happen to be recced highly or strike a chord with me somehow (I'll read if there's one character I like and it's not shippy. Or I'll start, anyway), I'm probably not gonna open it up.
Fanfic is all about me and my preferences and you and your preferences, and if there's something we don't like, we don't have to read or write it, and no one should try to tell us otherwise.
Reading and writing should be a pleasurable experience, not something done with teeth gritted because it's "good for you" or someone thinks it's "important" or a "Must-Read".
So if you (generic you) want genfic, start a genfic list, like Reject the Wacky or something.
But don't come around telling me what I should or shouldn't write, and how I ruined a fandom with my evil shipper ways.
Because while I may have ruined fandom for *you*, I'm happy as a lark.
I'm not going to reinvent the wheel, here. I've tackled this topic before, so go read my little rant called Noromo in Movieverse.
~victoria
Note: I do not include fic I don't/can't read due to spelling/grammar/writing issues here. Writing should be pleasurable, yes, but it should also be rigorous and correct. So this is not an exemption from me telling people who write badfic to spell check. I'm talking about *content*, not execution here. Just to be clear.
[current mood: profligate]
[current music: Jailhouse Rock - the King]
[random quote: Hypocrisy is the essence of snobbery, but all snobbery is about the problem of belonging. ~Alexander Theroux]
~*~
2002-06-21 - 9:45 a.m.
Emergency Book Help Needed!
Duplicate entries, 'cause it's just. that. important.
I finished my book on the train this morning, and normally I prepare for such eventualities, by having a second (and sometimes a third) book with me.
However, this morning was... how shall we say it? not an easy morning, and it totally slipped my mind to slip another book into my bag, and I have a long train ride tonight, so...
There's a B&N downstairs here in the building, so help a girl out, would ya?
~victoria
link
[current mood: distressed]
[current music: You're All I've Got Tonight - The Cars]
[random quote: The books we think we ought to read are poky, dull, and dry /The books that we would like to read we are ashamed to buy]
~*~
2002-06-20 - 10:40 p.m.
all the pretty horses
Racetrack, not park.
This is an important distinction, which will become clear later in the story.
Let me preface this by saying that I was overjoyed even before this happened that I was not the meeting planner in charge of this trip. It's very nice just to be a passenger, an attendee. I was musing on that at Tuesday's training as well. (I actually called Leslie from the bus to cackle about it. The best part is, she was staffing the Board meeting today. Bwahahahaha!)
It meant *I* didn't have to listen to complaints about the room being too cold or the coffee having run out. *G*
Anyhow, the bus was scheduled to leave our LIC building at 11 am. So we all troop over there. Well, not all together. I went on the subway by myself. Which is not important to the plot.
So we pull out of Court Square at 11 am. C., the woman who arranged transportation, asked me to sit up front with her. Since I'm not really comfortable with the small talk with too many of the others, I said sure.
We get on the Long Island Expressway ("LIE") and, of course, there's construction (there has never NOT been construction on some portion of the LIE. It is always under construction. By the time they get to the end of the work they're doing, it's time to start all over again), and traffic is bumper to bumper, amazing all those souls who live in Jersey or the city and have never experienced such a thing.
I say to the bus driver, "Are you taking this to the Cross Island?" Because that's the only way I know to go to Belmont, though I've never been there.
This is a key point.
I do not drive and I had never been to Belmont before today, though I'd occasionally driven past it on the Southern State Parkway or the Cross Island Expressway.
Now, another key point: Aside from the Van Wyck Expressway and the LIE, all other major roadways do not allow buses or trucks. Low overhangs or something.
So when the driver said, "No, we're staying on the LIE," I nodded. Then he said, "'Til Exit 50."
Which should have rung an alarm for me, because, hello, only 10 exits west of my parents. And Belmont's not even IN Suffolk County. It's in Nassau.
But I figure, I don't know how to get there, he knows what he's doing.
So we drive and drive and drive, and a little after noon, we're circling around Dix Hills, a very affluent town all the way out in Suffolk County. Where one of our people lives, and he was driving *in* to get to Belmont.
C. starts hounding the driver. "Where are we? Why are we on residential streets?" etc.
He hands her the map the dispatcher gave him, she hands the map to me. I look at it, and yes, we're circling around on the streets on the map. We're in the right place.
To go to Belmont Lake State Park.
Not Belmont Park, the Racetrack.
I'd like to say I caught this error, but I didn't. I saw "Belmont" on the map, and thought, 'okay.' (As an aside, we used to feed the ducks in Belmont Lake when I was a kid.)
The driver realizes we're in the wrong place entirely, and starts trying to get back to Sunrise Highway.
This is when things get dicey.
This is when I thanked God in all his mercy and wisdom that *I* was not the one responsible for the trip.
C. was visibly and markedly upset. She took it very personally (going back to the little bathroom and having an illicit smoke, for one), and got angry with the bus company and the driver (which, while I understand it, isn't how I'd have handled it, but it wasn't my show, so I just kept my mouth shut).
C. is... an interesting character. She's -- I have a hard time explaining her kind of person, 'cause she's nice, but there's something there that I can't quite put a finger on. She's the kind of person who thinks people are always talking down to her or being nasty to her, and it's never, ever her fault.
There were only about 25 of us on the bus, and nobody got nasty (which I've seen happen, but that's usually when the people don't know and work closely with the planner) - everybody kept their sense of humor as we slowly made our way back west toward the racetrack.
I tried to be supportive and not say anything too snarky, because I know what it's like to be in her position. I told her shit like, "This always happens. No field trip ever goes off without a hitch."
I didn't mention how she probably should have had her own set of directions and discussed the route with the driver, because, hey, what's the point of making her feel worse or incompetent, right?
It took us 3 hours to make a 20 minute drive.
As one of the men on the bus put it- we took a three hour tour. *G*
Needless to say, C. called the bus company and told them 1. we weren't paying for the bus, and 2. we weren't using their services on the ride home.
A group of us took the railroad into Jamaica. The Jersey and Westchester people got on a Penn Station bound train, and I took the Q8 home.
Was going to get a pedicure but there were too many people waiting in the shop.
And that was the big adventure.
Oh, and the food, when we finally got to the park? Awful. The prime rib was more like pot roast.
I bet three races, lost $20 and had a Corona. It was fun. I mean, it would have been more fun had I been there with friends rather than work people (or if I had figured out a way to get FNG to explain betting to me. *g* FNG is too adorably cute for words. Sigh.), but I had a nice time. It's good to see people outside the office once or twice a year, and I got a free polo shirt out of it, with a very non-obtrusive company logo on the sleeve, which is great. usually the shit they give you makes you look like a walking advertisement.
To sum up, I'm so glad I'm not a meeting planner anymore.
~victoria
link
[current mood: amused]
[current music: ]
[random quote: ]
~*~
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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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