Note to self: Do not attempt to fic after midnight. You wind up fumbling for the right keys like a drunken frat boy hunting for his pecker for a midnight poke in a trashed-out bathroom.

I signed up for the Supernatural [livejournal.com profile] family_secret fic challenge. The deadline is June 1st, This will be the third challenge fic I've written for the fandom, and I'm having a blast. Since the show is still young-and not likely to get much older if you believe the network rumor mill-there is so much unexplored territory open for interpretation and extrapolation, and the dynamics and complex relationships between extant characters are so rich that OCs aren't needed to create an interesting story, though one certainly could. In fact, anyone writing gen will likely have to refer to OCs at some point, even if it's just Victim A or Baddie B. All avenues are open, and unless the Brothers Winchester die in the series finale, the nature of the show lends itself well to "what happened after" fiction.

I wonder what will happen if the show is canceled. Will the fandom survive past the cancellation, or will it be dead six months after the final credits roll? Any fandom veterans out there have anecdotal evidence? I know X-Files and Xena were big fandoms once upon a time. Are they still alive? Does new fic or art emerge from their mythpools, or have they grown stagnant?

One of the reasons that I picked up stakes and left the HP fandom was the steadily-decreasing avenues of exploration. My primary interest, Snape's past, was answered definitively in Books 5 and 6, and so, the attraction dimmed. Similarly, each new bit of information about the organization and function of the wizarding world excludes or contradicts other ideas and previous imaginings by fic writers of every caliber and stripe. It's the nature of the serial beast to gradually kill the very attraction that drew folks to it in the first place: its mystery.

I might return to HP fen once Book 7 is out and canon is fixed. By then, I should know what avenues are open for exploration, and which if any, appeal to the hamster spinning my wheel.

For now, though, I'm happy in my CSI:NY digs and with my occasional stops at Harvelle's Roadhouse.

And now, a poll:

[Poll #950604]
Well, I'm playing hooky today. Not by choice, mind you. The wheelchair tinkerer was booked until Tuesday, and I could not, in good conscience, ask him to wheelie me over hill and dale again. So here I am. It should be noted that I am not profoundly sorry.

I am sorry that I missed [livejournal.com profile] lasergirl69's IM last night. I had been rolled away from the computer to watch TV and didn't see it until much later. My apologies.

Since I've got nothing afoot until Tuesday, Greg will likely make another turn on the catwalk before Labor Day. Thank God, because Flack has been chewing my ear off with big ideas for angst and woe.

Poll Time:

[Poll #811830]
I haven't started East of Eden yet, but I did play Animal Crossing for six hours and write two pages of Flack/Stanhope. I'm hoping to hit the 1400 word mark tonight, but with the season finale of Numb3rs on the horizon, I have my doubts as to whether I'll manage it. I love ficcing, but lately, I've been seized with a terrible lassitude. I want the words and the story they tell to be, but I don't want to set my fingers to the spindle and my feet to the treadle. I'll get over it. I always do.

Roomie wants to take me to see Poseidon this weekend since I said I wanted to see it. I loved The Poseidon Adventure with Gene Hackman, Ernest Borgnine, and Shelley Winters. I've always remembered Hackman screaming at God to take him if He wanted another life. It teetered on the cusp of melodrama without tumbling into it, and though it may sound blasphemous, I understand his rage at God in that moment, because for a being of Divine love and absolute omniscience, He's allowed an awful lot of misery and rank injustice in His name. If God is as gentle as the New Testament says, then He needs to roll out of Heaven in his pimped-out Godmobile and smack Him a Fred Phelps bitch.

And lastly, a poll about reading, writing, and me:

[Poll #727862]
All day long, I've felt the urge to write. Ideas have come, nebulous and half-formed, and I've picked them up, turned them over and set them down again, unmolested. They're not ready yet, not ripe. Still, the urge persists, an itch beneath the skin and a gentle, irresistible pressure at the base of my brain. I would write my Eddie Cahill fan letter now, but it would quite likely end up a nonsensical rumination on the shadow people who exist on the periphery of the world, so I'd better not.

Just for a lark, of the three ideas currently percolating in my brain, which intrigues you the most?

[Poll #698140]

Welcome, [livejournal.com profile] the_penumbra, to the flist.
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