September 14th, 2003

eurydice james: pepperlandgirl4

Sunday stuff

Well, another chapter of Rook is now posted. I love plot chapters. Especially talky plot chapters. They write so damn quickly. (Sorry, just_kumi, please don't hate me.)

So much stuff on the horizon. There is something big brewing that could potentially change our lives fairly drastically some time in the next 6-9 months (and no, I'm not pregnant again). At first mention, I was hugely excited, but after sitting and talking with Craig about all the ramifications, I'm a little more afraid now. The change, I think, is good, just...big. God, oblique much, Sigrid? I promise, as soon as we have more definite stuff, I'll tell people about it. I know angstchic is thrilled about the possibility, at least. :)
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eurydice james: pepperlandgirl4


Before fanfic, I had problems finishing stories. I'd start, stall, and then stop, only to start on a different idea later, just for the process to repeat itself. To be honest, it wasn't until I tried my hand at fanfic that I learned how to finish a story properly (maybe not in a figurative sense, but in an actual literal sense at least). I know now---and really knew then---that coming up with a fresh, new idea was just a stalling device, a way of procrastinating, a means to keep me from actually writing.

So why is it, when I have two stories I'm currently in love with, eager to work on, that I find myself bombarded with so many nuggets for new tales?

One in particular is beginning to get to me, and I found myself putting aside my original work tonight to scour the net for additional information. Searching to see what had been done. Trying to find out if I could write it and not be repetitive. Not that I find my Spuffy really all that unique. I know my strength in my writing is my plots. I like having to think about my stories, but that doesn't mean I don't wish that sometimes I could be more introspective, more of the reach into your gut and twist it around with insight kind of writer. But that's not me. And that's OK. I'm fine with that.

But this one...this one, I think, would need me to be more reflective. I'm not sure yet. I haven't found my hook that gets into my skin and says, "You must start writing me now." It's the character that's calling out to me, and he keeps whispering in my ear about all the possibilities, how lovely it would be for him to find love, and wouldn't it be just dandy if it was Buffy? And I want to give it to him, though I know it's not time yet. It's coming, though. I can feel it. He's there, just beyond my fingertips, a shy smile on his face but a mischievous gleam in his eye, and he wants me to put his tale on paper. Metaphorical paper, that is.

I just have to find it first.
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