I claimed Table #2 for [livejournal.com profile] spn13, and here it is:

01 Risk. 02 Fear. 03 Agony. 04 Temptation. 05 Evil.
06 Desperation. 07 Broken. 08 Pain. 09 Tears. 10 Ruin.
11 Never. 12 Death. 13 Forbidden.


A fic responding to a prompt will be posted once every four weeks until all 13 are completed.
Seven hundred words today.

Tumblr RP culture confounds me. Sometimes I have to remind myself that it's for fun and stop myself from sending them an ask that says, "But whyyyyyy would your character do or say that?" There's one person I follow, and I just... It's not that her characters are self-inserts; hell, that's practically my online pastime, and I'd be a giant hypocrite for knocking it, but GODDAMN, are they such blatant Sues. She's always the sexiest, smartest, and kindest person in the vicinity. She's sensual, gracious, and unfailingly polite. She always has the best plan and the mot juste, and oh, my God, it's incredibly grating to watch otherwise authoritative, characters defer to her. At one point, she orders both McCoy and Kirk around. And they meekly submit. LOL, no. I know it's irrational, but it's made me actively irritated at times. Thus far, I have managed to keep my fingers shut on the matter, but damn.

Yes, I'm a judgmental cunt, but after years of suppressing it in the name of civility. I've decided I no longer care. Maybe I should install Tumblr Savior and filter that crap out before I snap.
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laguera25: Dug from UP! (Default)
( Jun. 21st, 2014 11:56 pm)
One thousand and seventy-three words today.

LJ is dead, Jim. I've been here for eleven years, and I never expected it to wither as it has. People will always want to write and talk and post their thoughts and share their art. They'll always want to be part of a social circle.

Not here, they don't. This place is a VFW on the outskirts of the desert that smells of cheap booze and old soldiers and slow decay. Tumblr might be vapid, but at least it's alive. I've interacted more in the last week than I have on LJ in the past year. Nothing deep or momentous, but it's there. I call out, and voices answer, even if it's only a passing greeting.

It's a nice feeling.
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laguera25: Dug from UP! (Default)
( May. 25th, 2014 02:43 pm)


I found this on Tumblr. As far as I can tell, it's done by someone named 4aab. I don't really see a facial resemblance to either Bones, but the essence is still there.
One thousand one hundred and ten words today.

Dear AH fandom,



Give it up. The corpse is dead and rotting. We're well past the resurrection stage. Write fic, post art, make GIFS, but stop haranguing the poor phone drones at Netflix. It would be different if the actors wanted to continue, but when one of the leads has publicly stated he's not sorry it ended, the show is dead, Jim.
I know the year isn't even half over, but it's been one of the best fannish periods I've had in a long, long time. Writing is fun again. I look forward to it instead of seeing it as penance, a bargain struck in return for my continued existence. Alternating stories keeps the characters fresh and setting a page count instead of a hard word count keeps me from getting pissy and resentful and feeling stifled by the ridiculous amount of time I spend chained to this keyboard.

No longer posting my fic to LJ has also helped. I don't have to come here in the days after posting a chapter to find dust and tumbleweeds and obsess over my declining skill and fading talent and wonder what's wrong with my fic, why aren't people reading, oh, my God, what if I'm a hack? I can post it to AO3 and FFN.net and get a few kudos and a smattering of comments and call it good. I don't have to sing for my fandom supper here anymore and worry about being interesting enough to keep readers. I tried that for years and got very little out of it except anxiety and frustration, so fuck it, I'm going to post words counts and dumb Youtube videos and Karl Urban pictures, and when the mood takes me, I might talk about two virgin priests breaking their vows and having hungry, clumsy sex or a lonely, touch-starved John Kennex falling in love with his gimpy neighbor but being too afraid to tell her so. Or about a Starfleet doctor having a forbidden love affair with his gimpy, time-traveling patient while James T. Kirk gives not a single fuck and surreptitiously roots him on or lovelorn elves reunited after thousands of years apart(yes, I'm still working on that). Or improbable, unapologetically iddy Dredd h/c. Fandom is not serious business; it's supposed to be fun, and I'm going to act like it.
The sacred keys to Castle Asshole have been duly delivered. My aunt was kind enough to give me one of her old reversible hats, so now I have a summer hat.

I made a few new Karl Urban puzzles on Jigsaw planet last night, and then I finished a chapter of my ST:AOS WIP, which has been posted to both AO3 and FFN.Net.

Protip: If you enjoy writing and want to keep doing it, do not read writing advice or pet peeves threads on memes. No matter what tactics a writer uses to complete their work to the best of their abilities, they will irritate someone. Take a few weeks between updates? OMG, that's too long, it kills the momentum. Try to post quickly to sustain interest? OMG, it's choppy and sloppy and riddled with errors. Too much dialogue, not enough dialogue, too slow, too abrupt, too spare, too florid, too much porn, not enough porn, where's the angst and manpain?

That extends to feedback, too. OMG, you posted a note in the header asking for feedback and inviting crit? Don't tell me what to do! Just for that, I'm not even going to leave kudos, you entitlement whore. Don't explicitly invite comments and feedback? OMG, I'm too intimidated to click kudos. You should let me know what you want. Whyyyyyy aren't you psychic and attuned to my every neeeed?

Fandom has always been a haven for the awkward and shy, but damn if entitlement rot hasn't neared terminal proportions.
One thousand five hundred and fifty-three words today.

I love(d) Almost Human, but damn, someone needs to breathe. I'm sure much of my sanguinity stems from the fact that a)Karl Urban was desperately homesick and b)the writing sucked festering monkey balls, but still.

She's sixty-four. I thought she was fourteen.
One thousand two hundred and twenty-nine words today.

Today, I have been pondering the lovemaking and marriage rituals of vampire priests who would like to bind themselves to another before God but know the Church will never accept their union as legitimate.

I have also considered hungry, needy, first-time-after-coma-and-limb-amputation sex.

Fandom is a weird and wonderful place.

I posted the latest chapter of my Priestfic today. I was thrilled to get the biscuit, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a gigglefit over their priorities. Black Hat is a ruthless vampire who enjoys killing and terrorizing humans, and I've just spent several pages describing, in unflinching detail, how he's eaten the hearts of priests and killed the family whose cabin he now calls home, but who cares? It's so romantic that he loves Liese, his childhood friend and fellow priest. Uh. Hm. Wow. There's bones in the compost heap, but...true love. Ah, fandom.

Then I got this tidbit for my ST:AOS fic:

I absolutely love it! It's a great story :) I do think that the thoughts in italics are a bit long though, maybe you could shorten them up a bit? I hope she'll get better, it will result in them being equal I think :) Maybe Khan's blood will help? _ Well, to summarize things, I can't wait to find out this story continues :)

Because of course a cure is the only way they would ever be equal, right? The only thing to say to that is, "Thank you."
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laguera25: Dug from UP! (Default)
( Feb. 19th, 2014 05:33 pm)
So, after the latest episode of AH, I made this post, only to be thwapped by a mod for...personal remarks about the actress. Presumably because I noted she was young and pretty at the end. 'Kay. Guess I don't need to post to that comm anymore. Christ Jesus, when did criticism become synonymous with wank?
Irascible and out of sorts today. I finished a ficcing project the day before yesterday and am now trying to pick another, but with a mere five days before the deadline to start my contribution to the [profile] almosthumanbang, I don't want to commit. I suppose I could faff around with one of my two two drawerfics until then.

I need to stop reading the reading preferences thread on FFA; read them often enough, and I begin to get the idea that everything that makes fandom fun for me is bad and a blight upon its literary legitimacy. OCs? A scourge. Het romance? Boring and predictable. Tenderness, devotion, and loyalty? Soppy glurge. Angst? Self-indulgent projection. They go so far as to nitpick turns of phrase and piss and whine about tropes and genre conventions. According to them, everything ever written in fandom(or in profic, for that matter)is a revealing embarrassment. Their disdain is so lofty and palpable that an evil gnome in some small, fetid corner of my brains longs to peruse their fic and see just how many of them are blind hypocrites protesting entirely too much. More than a few, I'd wager, because I've been in fandom a long time, and it's hardly a hotbed of revolutionary thought. A hackneyed plot doesn't get fresh just because there are two dongs in it. Ninety percent of fic is derivative crap. I've written it. I'll probably keep writing it, too. It's familiar, but writing about love and pain and angst and love tested and tortured is fun. And if everyone is so tired of those moldering old canards, then why is fandom so full of the very things that it claims to hate?

Because fandom, like most of the people who comprise it, is full of shit.
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Three hundred and forty-four words today.

The next time fandom starts patting its back and bleating about the importance of inclusivity, I'm pointing it to this post in the Almost HumanTV comm. When it comes down to it, fandom is just as shallow as all the fangirls they are so quick to dismiss and condemn. Fandom is in it for the porn and the pretty, and it should just own up to it instead of insisting that everything it produces is for Great Justice. Most of the folks writing Kennex/Dorian aren't doing it to advance LGBTQI rights; they're doing it because the thought of Michael Ealy drilling Karl Urban like a prospective oil well makes their panties tingle. The fucking end.

Did I expect a long, nuanced discussion? No. I'm not a fool. But I did hope for a few comments suggesting possible alternative adaptations. It's the future, after all, and it's hardly as though I were shoehorning disability issues into a universe ill-suited to their inclusion. The lead is an amputee, for Christ's sake.

Talking gimp tech isn't as sexy as writing about hot people bumping uglies and macho heterosexual dudes with issues falling for their male android partners and angsting about it, but fuck you, fandom, for talking so very big and delivering so very little.
Ron/Hermione Was a Mistake

LOL, BOOM. Potterdammerung reborn. Well, played Ms. Rowling.
Six hundred and thirty-three words today.

Well, I went and did it. I signed up for the [profile] almosthumanbang. I wanted to do a Kennex, OFC gen multichapter fic, but instinct told me that would be a disaster, so I'm going to do a one-shot instead.
Bored, so bored. Bored, bored, bored. I haven't written in two days. I want to, but as soon as I park myself in front of the keyboard, I can't be assed to do anything but watch insipid Youtube videos. What was once so effortless and fun now seems like such a grinding slog. I don't know when or why that happened, but it did. Fandom isn't as fun as I remember it. Maybe it's because LJ and its attendant culture of conversation and feedback and mutual squee tempered by the occasional vigorous wank is dying. It is dying; if you doubt, you have merely to peruse [community profile] fail_fandomanon to see the alarming number of fans who either claim that those who produce in fandom owe those who consume fannish output with no expectation of feedback, gratitude, or meaningful interaction, or who excuse their entitlement or laziness with pathetic, mewling cries of, "I didn't thank my fest/exchange writers because I have anxiety issues, oh, noes!" Bullshit. You didn't thank them because you didn't think you had to, and if your anxiety is so crippling that you cannot type "Thank you," into the comment box, then you shouldn't be signing up for a fest where feedback is the expected fannish currency and the established social norm. "But I wanted to participate!" you say? Fine. Then buck up and say the bare minimum. I'm sure your author wanted that feedback, too, but they got the shaft when you weenied out because typing was soooo hard. And who's to say that they didn't swallow a huge lump of insecurity and angst when they wrote you that fic? Why is your laziness anxiety about leaving feedback more important than their fear of getting it wrong or disappointing their recipient? You got what you wanted out of the deal the minute your fic was posted. So why is it too much to ask that you nut up and say thank you like a decent human being?

In case you haven't noticed, I'm tired of people co-opting real illnesses as an excuse to be lazy, ungrateful assholes. And no, I don't have a dog in this fight. The last exchange I did was six or seven years ago. I signed up for a second, defaulted, and never signed up for another because it wasn't fair to my potential recipient that I couldn't get myself together and honor my commitment. I know how much it sucks to shout into the wind, and I don't want to be that asshole for anyone else.

Maybe I should just bite the bullet and get a Tumblr, but I have the sneaking suspicion that I would be drummed out within a week for writing something problematic or saying something -ist.
Words of fic written this year: 169,376

Not bad. If I hadn't slacked off for long stretches of November and December, I might've crossed two hundred thousand for the year. Less then fifteen percent of this has been posted; most of it is locked in my draft journal.

I received a parcel from across the sea. Yay, German chocolate! I also got a lovely little book about the Berlin Wall.

Here's to hoping for a more productive fannish year.
We're enjoying a lazy weekend at home. I've been eating Tyson buffalo wings. They're no replacement for the real thing, but they'll satisfy the hankering without the need for pants, so...

Maybe I'm just a bitter old fogey fan, but fannish entitlement is out of control. When I first got into fandom fifteen years ago, it wasn't about seeing your shipping fantasies realized onscreen or bending the show to your whims. We absolutely rooted for our pet pairings and plot developments, and the more vociferous among us occasionally scrummed amongst ourselves with pitch and pitchforks and bilious vituperation, but we were, by and large content, to wish and dream and play in our sandbox.

But now, good Lord. Thanks to Twitter, fans can mount ridiculous, quixotic campaigns for their pet theory and harangue showrunners and actors about developments they dislike. They can publicly show their unbecoming asses when their demands for A and B to boff aren't met or send death threats to actress "in the way" of their hottie OTP and accusations of queer-baiting and homophobia to every showrunner whose cast isn't 100% enthusiastically gay and repulsed by the treacherous, disgusting threat of snatch. Fans think that because their wishes can now be heard by TPTB, they are entitled to see them fulfilled. It's human nature, but it's also unsettling when it reaches SPN and Sherlock proportions of desire and delusion. Sending death threats to partners and wives? Hurling abuse at cast members because they're purportedly cockblocking the OTP that exists solely in your head? Telling fans who disagree with you that they're worthless, homophobic pieces of shit who should kill themselves? There is wistful fantasy to share with like-minded people, and then there's dangerous mob mentality, and fandom has clearly veered toward the latter, gleefully and unapologetically.

I know what it's like to want to see someone who looks like you in mainstream media. The only faces that look like mine are dying in hospital beds with tragic nobility or used as props to teach the people who matter uplifting life lessons. We aren't seen having a one-night stand with the hunky protagonist or working as successful lawyers, tech specialists, or businesspeople. Sometimes, we get to play the asshole, but we're always defeated by the able protagonist and his mighty normal bod, and our motives are almost always linked to our gimpy bitterness.

So, yeah, I've had to engage in a lot of fantasy in my time. I knew TPTB on CSI:NY were never going to pair Flack with anyone who didn't look like a cover girl, so I didn't bother bleating at them about it in fits of righteous and utterly futile indignation. Instead, I sighed and set up my own sandbox and played the way I wanted to in relative anonymity. By the same token, I know that Almost Human isn't going to pair Kennex with a limpy lady(in fact, they're painfully transparent about pushing him into bed with Det. Stahl, who is pretty but otherwise inconsequential to the plot), so I'm not going to make an ass of myself hectoring J.J. Abrams or Karl Urban about it on Twitter. It's rude and ineffectual, and I'm sure neither one of them gives a damn what I want. It's their sandbox and their vision, derivative as it is, and no one is making me watch.

If I want to see Kennex tapping that gimpy ass, then I'm going to have to write it myself. It's a bummer, but it's not the end of the world or a hill I'm willing to die on.

Fandom has been the land of Everything Else since it started, and that's what it should be, not the land of My Way or Else. The fourth wall can't be rebuilt, but the people behind it can damn well conduct themselves with a little dignity.
One thousand and seventy-three words today. I'm currently wallowing happily about in the minor details of Small Mercies VIII. Modern fic readers seem to eschew any fic that doesn't get from A to B in the shortest possible time, or so it seems to me from listening to them piss and moan ad nauseam on FFA, but I can't refrain from filling in every nook and cranny of the character I'm exploring. It's too much fun, and since most readers see clicking the kudos button on AO3 or scribbling, "I like this." into a comment box as an onerous burden and an unreasonable demand on their precious time, I can't be assed to care what they like. If I should be writing purely for the love of it, then I'm going to write what I love.

The McCoy fic presents a stickier wicket, if only because it's not strictly ethical for him to be boning his patients. I could handwave it since the good captain and his first officer are boning subordinates, but I'm ashamed to confess another problem: I don't think people would read a fic featuring gimpy sex.

When I was younger and more idealistic, I never worried whether or not people would buy a disabled/able pairing because hey, this is fandom. If they can believe Squid/Hagrid or castle/Dumbles or Sheppard/McKay, then surely they can go with hot cop/gimpy professor woman or hot doctor/gimpy refugee. Liebe is fuer alle da, right?

LOLnope.

For all its claims to subversiveness, fandom is more squeamish than it cares to admit when it comes to disability and sex. Xenomorph/android is utterly valid and acceptable. Hot dude/disabled, disfigured, or fat person? Not so much. In fact, ew. Get the ugly out of the pretty, and do you really expect them to believe that Hottie X would stoop to that? Atypical, disabled bodies are gross and often need extra time to get down to the dirty, and who wants hopeful realism in their fap material?

I can't change their minds or their preferences, so I'm just going to have to bull through it and see how the story turns out in the end.
I was bored last night, so I reread Danse Macabre, an HP/CSI:NY fic I wrote in 2007. It still holds up for me, although I did spot a few typos. It's been a year since I last visited that world. It's high time for a return. Those characters are fun to play with, and now that CSI:NY is a closed canon, I'll have near-infinite leeway. At the very least, Rebecca and Seamus need to reunite for a wizardly adventure and friendship escapade between war buddies and damaged people with their individual issues. Maybe Seamus can ask her to accompany him on a vengeance quest to snuff Walden Macnair.

According to a comment I made about that fic, it clocked in at 111,000+ words in seventeen chapters. Well, no wonder I have so many unfinished WIPs. Laziness is the primary reason, no doubt, but when a "short" fic exceeds the length of three novels, it's easy to see why creative fatigue might set in. When current fannish trends count anything over 10,000 words as long and I'm routinely writing individual chapters that length or longer, it's simple math that my works are going to take longer and see less return on creative investment that a fic that is written in a week by folks with nimbler fingers and a narrative filter.

I've been working on Sprache for nearly two years. I have no idea of its word count, but I'm sure it's 100,000+ It is still not finished. To date, I have earned maybe twenty-five reviews. It's been a long, slow grind.

I don't know what I'm trying to say. That it's lonely and occasionally boring. I'm a fandom tortoise, plodding gamely along at the pace of a comatose glacier. I wish I were faster so that I could devote time to the million fic ideas in my head and display them in time to participate in the squeeful camaraderie. By the time I finish my Trek idea, the nu!Trek verse will be inert again, and by the time I finish my Haldirfic, even Legolas will be so many cobwebbed bones in the corner. Writing daily whether I want to or not would help, but it wouldn't solve the problem entirely because 1,000 words is my absolutely daily limit, and if an "average" fic runs 100,000 words in my world and the sweeping epics are longer, it would still take me four months to produce a complete work.

TL;DR: Waaaah, fandom, I can't keep up with youuuuuu.

For the curious, Summon the Lambs to Slaughter remains my longest work at 53 chapters and 450,000+ words. It wasn't yet half-finished at the time canon torpedoed it.
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