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Apologies in advance, but there won't be any rhyme or reason to this post. It's just brain soup.
Nothing compares to the thrill of completing a fic or a chapter of fic. Well, there are some things, but you can't do them in public, and sharing them will either get you rich or busted. Plus, with fic, there's no chafing. You hit that last keystroke, sit back, and pump your fist because baby, you just made it to the top of the hill. In that moment, all the effort and agonizing is worth every callus and sore Shifting thumb. It's yours, your baby, and it's beautiful. When the endorphins wear off and your brain returns from your underpants, where it's been indulging in some furtive self-congratulation, you'll notice the lumps and bumps and ponder the disheartening notion that it might bear an unfortunate resemblance to your drunken uncle, Fred, but that's later. In the immediate aftermath of fic completion, your pile of prose is nothing short of the Gerber baby.
Conversely, few things are as disheartening as the realization that not everyone shares your opinion. You gussy up your fic baby, wipe the spittle off his chin, and take him for a stroll on the fandom promenade. But no one stops to coo. In fact, no one takes any notice at all, so you begin to wonder if you're overestimating your ability. Maybe you're a hack, inflicting your misbegotten travesties on an unsuspecting fandom. You take your drooling baby inside, bundle him up, and brood.
But you know what's great? The paranoia that you might be a hack is never stronger than the euphoria of creation. So you give your baby a teething ring, pat him on the head, and set about making another one. Because making babies is fun, and besides, this one will be better.
There are days I wonder why I post my fic, but there has never been a day when I wondered why I write them. I write them because they're a measurable barometer of my contributions to the world in a world that offers me few opportunities to contribute. I write them because someone might remember them even if they won't remember me. I write them so that I'm not alone, and so that I never succumb to the urge to lie down and sleep forever. I write them because they make me put one foot in front of the other. I write them in the hopes that someone, somewhere will finally take the time to stop and listen.
Because it's a tiresome business, screaming into the wind.
Nothing compares to the thrill of completing a fic or a chapter of fic. Well, there are some things, but you can't do them in public, and sharing them will either get you rich or busted. Plus, with fic, there's no chafing. You hit that last keystroke, sit back, and pump your fist because baby, you just made it to the top of the hill. In that moment, all the effort and agonizing is worth every callus and sore Shifting thumb. It's yours, your baby, and it's beautiful. When the endorphins wear off and your brain returns from your underpants, where it's been indulging in some furtive self-congratulation, you'll notice the lumps and bumps and ponder the disheartening notion that it might bear an unfortunate resemblance to your drunken uncle, Fred, but that's later. In the immediate aftermath of fic completion, your pile of prose is nothing short of the Gerber baby.
Conversely, few things are as disheartening as the realization that not everyone shares your opinion. You gussy up your fic baby, wipe the spittle off his chin, and take him for a stroll on the fandom promenade. But no one stops to coo. In fact, no one takes any notice at all, so you begin to wonder if you're overestimating your ability. Maybe you're a hack, inflicting your misbegotten travesties on an unsuspecting fandom. You take your drooling baby inside, bundle him up, and brood.
But you know what's great? The paranoia that you might be a hack is never stronger than the euphoria of creation. So you give your baby a teething ring, pat him on the head, and set about making another one. Because making babies is fun, and besides, this one will be better.
There are days I wonder why I post my fic, but there has never been a day when I wondered why I write them. I write them because they're a measurable barometer of my contributions to the world in a world that offers me few opportunities to contribute. I write them because someone might remember them even if they won't remember me. I write them so that I'm not alone, and so that I never succumb to the urge to lie down and sleep forever. I write them because they make me put one foot in front of the other. I write them in the hopes that someone, somewhere will finally take the time to stop and listen.
Because it's a tiresome business, screaming into the wind.
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