…and I’m writing

The lucky winner… Hermione Malfoy.

That doesn’t mean I’m going to finish it, of course, but that’s the thing that’s getting the most attention right now, probably because I’ve gone on a Draco/Hermione bender lately. And the story makes me laugh. Kind of a lot.

You think if I finished the story people would stop bitching me out in reviews?

I know, wishful thinking.

I’m scared to finish it, to be honest. It’s been an option for so long that I don’t know what I’ll do when I don’t have ‘updating Hermione Malfoy’ as a potential thing to do with my day. I mean, granted, I rarely exercised the option… But still! Hard to let go.

Word count

I have crazy, unfocused creativity running around my brain without an outlet. It is absolutely maddening. I need to write, but the I’m having trouble focusing on just one story or idea. Probably because I’m such an ADD basketcase that I have many, many options. So I’m just going to run through them and tell you, and thereby, me, where I’m at with each.

Hermione Malfoy, Chapter 19 – 1875 words in
Wait for Me, Chapter 3 – 1673 words in
Heat with Benefits (as yet unpublished) – 4117 words in
After the Fact, Chapter 6 – 626 words in
Ashes, Chapter 10 – 104 words in
Carnal Knowledge, Chapter 4 – 9349 words in

…that’s not it, but that’s all that is on the computer, the rest are on google docs because I enjoy complicating matters.

And that doesn’t even take into account original stuff, which it would really be better to work on anyway.

Devastation and hope

It seems like there’s some connection between devastation and hope, like when you’re knocked down to the point where all you can do is look up… it’s like hey, things are looking up.

I recently lost the relationship I had with my fiance, someone it should go without saying that I love very much. It is probable that the final nail is in the coffin of that relationship after months of back and forth. But I never really told him what I wanted, I just waited for him to figure it out on his own. I didn’t want to *burden* him with my feelings while he was so upset already. All my decisions were based on him, *his* reaction, *his* feelings and my possibly very poor understanding of them.

But last night, I wrote him an email divulging all of my feelings and my perspective and how I didn’t want it to be over, that I’d just gone along with what I thought he wanted.

His reaction to this matters, of course. So do his feelings. But the important thing is that even if it’s too late for us, it isn’t too late for me. I can change the self-destructing habits I’ve been killing myself with slowly.

So, slightly ironic…

…I kinda wanna read Harry Potter.

Obviously, you know why that’s ironic. I’ve been reading HP fic for years but never bothered to read the books. I’ve been writing it for almost as long as I’ve been reading it. But I *can’t* read the books until I’ve finished writing my fic because I know it will change my perception of the characters. My story is really uneven enough without all that trouble.

Obviously, I have a problem…

If you’re here, you undoubtably are completely aware that I’m challenged by finishing projects. Now, you’d think, that given that, I wouldn’t be at all tempted to go back and fuck with stuff that’s already done. Not the case. I wrote my Dark Angel fic years ago. *Years* ago. And yet, because I wrote so much of it and it was such a significant part of my growth as a writer… it irritates me that isn’t perfect. That it is far, far, oceans from perfect and just sits there mocking me.

So I’m actually tempted to dive back in because it irks me so. It’s total insanity, but hey. Welcome to my brain.

If you’re here for Dark Angel Fic…

…scroll no further. I don’t have the energy to relink all the crap I used to have on geocities. That’s insanity. Plus, I already did it.

All of my Dark Angel Fic is linked at Gumboot Mafia: http://gumbootmafia.hyperboards.com/ Yes, you have to sign up, blah blah blah. Deal with it. When you do, it is under Dark Angel Fanfiction, the second ‘S’ category. “scarlet” That’s me. It’s all there in all of it’s (when applicable) smutty glory. I, personally, have trouble re-reading it because it is so old, but if you want to, knock yourself out. There’s a bunch of other fic there too. Enjoy!

So excited

Do you ever get so excited that functional behavior is basically impossible?

For instance, once I was so excited for an event to take place Sunday that I couldn’t fall asleep Saturday night until 5, so I was unable to attend.

I’m like a seven year old Christmas Eve. Provided, of course, they’re a “Christmas Day” celebrator, or the simile doesn’t really work.

Right now, I am *this close* to completing an original pilot and I can’t contain myself from dancing all over the place like some kind of insane person. I realize that this is exactly the sort of thing that I shouldn’t be doing because it takes time that should be spent writing, but because I have this Christmas Morning bull shit going on in my head, it’s impossible.

I really need to calm the hell down.

Fanfic: On principle

Fanfic is one of those things that very few people feel comfortable sharing with people they actually know. Particularly people that aspire to write original fiction of their own. For them, amongst whom I number, it’s like the dirty little secret they carry around with them that they wouldn’t actually tell people about and they dread the few in the know blabbing about it.

For me, I enjoy it for several reasons. I find it very freeing. There are no rules to which I must adhere. There is no real ‘competition’ because the more, the merrier. If you get into a nice group of people, they are all very encouraging and it can be a lovely creative and social experience. [Usually bound up in a mutual lust object, but not always.]

Also, re-writes are optional! I am attempting to writing for television, which involves the occasionally tedious process of writing spec scripts. Break down a show, come up with your own idea for an episode, write it, tear it apart and write again. As a creative person, fitting into the structure designed by another can be a frustrating and annoying process. Fanfic, while it also borrows the universe of a show in a specific way, no one is forced into their episodic structure unless they so choose.

I think what makes someone a writer is that for one reason or another, they are compelled to write. For some, it is their talent and success that urges them to continue. For others, they have something to say and can’t stop until it is out.

Obviously, I have something to say. I’m speaking. (sort of) But clearly I don’t focus any of my stories on this subject. I have always felt that writing and storytelling were in my blood because I have always felt compelled to write (for good results or bad, who knows) and I cannot imagine that that would ever change. It’s like a drug that I need on a regular basis or I don’t function properly. Anything I “have to say” comes out naturally. This isn’t the case with “real” writing. Everything has to be planned in advance, which can be annoying. I like to have at least one aspect of my storytelling open to change and open to whatever subconscious voice is in my fingers, waiting to break out and teach me something disturbing about my psyche.

So in spite of the fact that I am largely embarrassed by this hobby, I also find it a wonderful outlet that I really enjoy and may continue for some time.

In the meantime, hopefully I will get some “real” work done as well.

I’m engaged!!

It’s amazing the journey you take on a relationship inside your own head. Well, it might be just me, but I really doubt it. When I first got together with the person I now intend to build my life with, I wasn’t really certain that things would work out, I thought we might have an enjoyable, if brief, relationship. It seemed like we were too different, but apparently not. Two years later, I was happy, but the idea of marriage was still terrifying. When I figured out I wanted to get married and actually made peace with the decision we were four and a half years into our relationship and he proposed at the five year mark.

I’ve spent a lot of time in my life trying to figure out what was real. What is real love, what is true about religion, the world and humanity. I feel like fiction simplifies all of that, to a great degree and I’ve been reading and writing fiction for most of my life. I’m not giving it up, either, I love it too much.

I remember the world of confusion I went through, when I was with a man that I loved (the same one as now) and I wasn’t happy.

The rules and concepts about the world inside your head are always changing, of course, but right now, I think the point is that you’re supposed to struggle with it. I sort of feel like “love at first sight”, “finding your soul mate” and even buying into every belief of a major (or minor!) religion without deciding what you think on your own is the lazy way out.

If you haven’t worked for your sense of peace, I feel like you just haven’t started the fight yet. Maybe some people never do, I’m not sure.

I don’t believe there is someone for everyone. “The one” concept is bull shit, a concept to make junior high girls swoon and twenty-somethings pull their hair out. I don’t want “the one”, I want my fiancee.

I’m in love with my best friend and I’m getting married. I still have to resist the urge to walk up and show my ring to perfect strangers. But I guess, truth to tell, that’s exactly what I’m doing now.

Relationships

Shipping is such a weird, indefinable thing. It’s hard to say what it is about one couple that you love and what strikes something deep inside your subconscious that makes you projectile spew.

I often see people post on message boards with a signature that has a list of people they ‘ship’ and usually, as I read through them, I say Yes, yes, nice, okay, who is that? and YICK! This idea of real love is something that is obviously not a universal understanding or easy to define or wouldn’t everyone be able to tell what it looked like?

Is love patient and kind as we learned in sunday school or does it screw you up against the shower wall?

I’m trying to write a relationship in which there is no doubt that the couple is in love and yet, there are only a few scenes between them, some of which need to be a bit dramatic. But this is a D-story. There’s no time for it, really, but it’s important. This love is what drives the main character.

They aren’t magical beings with a mystical bond of love beyond their control. Real people, real love. Why isn’t that romantic anymore? It should be.