~~writing, ranting, character obsessing, being a silly t00b. what i do best, right.

[reenka]

i was reading yet again, about unhappy!draco. and basically, it wasn't that he was -shown- to be unhappy but rather, he just was -said- to be unhappy. i began to swallow it, but then it occurred to me that draco is -always- unhappy. everyone assumes draco is unhappy, his family life sucks, his mother is never really "there", his father's strictness makes him lonely and untrusting of emotions. why?

often enough, harry is also unhappy. this isn't played up as much, but enough. the dursleys left deep grooves on his soul so that he's desperate for friendship and belonging like a gift from god. the dursleys, voldemort, draco, his status as "the boy who lived", his fans, fame, his "destiny", cedric-- all of it is making him sad. his responsibilities make him sad because he sees no way out and he's aware of that. as is draco, also aware of his own responsibilities, and also sees no way out.

now, it's not that i want "happy", but this cult of sadness is weird, is it not? hermione is like, -never- all that sad, and neither is ron, in h/d fics anyway. for all i know, in hermione or ron-centric fics, they're v. v. sad. *laughs*


of course, the well known alternative to being sad is being listless, apathetic, or angry. furious, even. furious at the world, at oneself, at one's "really secret" crush. of course, it's not like i know "the answer". but i resent being told someone is aware of their sad, trapped state of long-standing loneliness. please. please, don't ask the reader for pity. i am begging any h/d writer who'll listen. come on. please? i don't want to hear about their Great Tooby Existential Sorrow, okay?

Happiness had nothing to do with being a Malfoy.

*stares at sentence*

mostly, it's the narrative, blunt way i get told these things, most of the time, that bothers me. you get loads of third-person limited narrators, who seem so introspective and self-aware, i would be awed if i wasn't scoffing like mad. aww, hell, i write self-aware third-person limited myself. it's why i notice. i mean. can i be hit over the head with their Need For One Another a little bit -harder- please? i think i'm missing the picture, here. i think i need to be told in plain -english- that they have to discover capacity for happiness and ability to feel.

right now, all i can hear is, "you make me feel/ you make me feel/ like a natural woman/ woman....."

er. yah.
maybe i just want to see one fic where draco is content with his inane dorky meanness and subtly discontent. that's subtly. and harry is content with being a hero and wants to fight and while not -happy- to be "the boy who lived", -resigned- to it and willing to live up to it, and not being broken by the same old pressures he used to weather rather easily before. maybe give him -new- pressures. harder pressures. just not the pressure of being himself suddenly becoming too much for him.

people are rather good at figuring out -events-, but not themselves. funny thing, how most authors have their characters figure out -themselves-, but not events. i dunno. often, of course, they're in denial about their feelings about -one another-, but when it comes to their feelings, -period-, they tend to be quite up-to-date. ack. maybe i'm just deluded. that's always true.
    and yes, i'm trying to read `playing the game, living the lie' over again because i thought i may have had a wrong impression, since i read it months and months ago, and yes, it's just as bad (in the beginning) as abaddon says it is. ahem. as in, it's really. really. bad. gah. almost classic in its mistakes as it ritually makes them, especially with draco. almost beautiful in its execution of all the wrong turns (or at least ones that make me smirk).


i know it's difficult to make h/d work. i know, because just like so many others, they don't always quite "work" in my own head. i mean, i believe, i want, i need-- but i can't always "do"-- can't make it happen. of course, i dig my own grave, in this respect. i won't let them have a pre-existing infatuation. i won't let it be "just a crush" (seems a bit like cheating). i won't have draco become nice, and i won't have harry realize that draco is really "not all that bad". i won't use sex as a plot-substitute, and i won't use the characters to propagate my own personal beliefs about them, most of all.
    that's not so radical, now is it. but just because it's difficult and i can't "just do it", i don't see why one should be ok with embracing such painful levels of cliche. there is only one solution, according to my criteria, for a novel-length how-they-got-together story. they have to get to know each other, faults and all. they do not immediately get infatuated, though the ust is there. slowly, they change their attitudes-- not because of a revelation or a mystical "knowledge" that the other is "worthy", but rather the way things sneak up on you, and people change through interaction.

(and yes, i'm thinking of maya and ali and cassie claire, ahahah, and awwww, my beautiful friendship ficlet by silvia). harry would -not- just fuck him. he might love him but he would -not- do anything unless things happened first. even ip had harry and draco slowly, painfully come to terms with themselves liking one another, even with a love potion. anything else is sheer mockery. the answer has been staring me in the face all this time:
    it is simple. copious, heavy amounts of pre-slash. a -lot- of pre-slash. a lot of build-up. a lot of ground-work. and yes, ust-- and yes, crushing. just because you're crushing does -not- mean you like someone, really need someone or are ready to go -after- someone. it just means they make you feel "funny".

crushing fics are adorable and i love them, but if you're writing a "serious" h/d romance where you are truly trying to make some sort of statement about them, you can't use that, really. eh. i -knew- i didn't like this fic back when i liked almost -every- fic. guh. should stop reading it.....

    right now, it occurs to me that it's ridiculous to suppose that draco seriously thinks that he has to torture/make fun of people and be an obvious "bad guy" to please his father. that's ridiculous. lucius may be "bad" but he's not stupid. he's told draco to be politic, to be -nicer-, less obvious. that is right -there-, in the dialogue. if draco wanted to please lucius, he'd act more polite and try to gain favor with harry and dumbledore and so on. that's the way to power, not tormenting hufflepuffs and beating up harry, haha.
~~

occurs to me how strange it is to find so many people saying "oh yah, this is my first fic ever" about well-written stories (if they're badly written, i guess it's obvious why/how it's their first fic ever). i mean, especially if you're over 16 (though that's an arbitrary number). how does something just "click" in someone's head like that? do you wake up one day and realize, "hey, i can write! wow!"
    
    i mean... i suppose it seems a little hard to swallow for me, but then i've always had continuity, and the idea of waking up "different" one day really sort of scares me. also, it's just never happened. i mean, in stories, when you get characters waking up gay, that's largely considered of questionable realism (though i'm starting to wonder). but suddenly becoming a writer is just as great of a shift, isn't it? it's not like suddenly starting to knit, is it?

like, what do you -do- all those other years? for fun? what do you do with your imagination? have the majority of those people just-- never felt the urge to write or create anything, and instead played video games?
    to explain a little.... to me, being a writer or an artist is a state of mind, a state of -being-. i couldn't just -stop- or -start-. it's not even about -writing-, though naturally writing is how it expresses itself. i always write/draw/sing in my head. even if i don't put it down on paper, i'm there, thinking about things in a different way, seeing stories where other people just see mundane events. i'm like andrew, from the last buffy, all the way. well, except for the deluded murderer part. ahem.
    but anyway, andrew, to me, is a storyteller-- which is just another word for writer. isaac bashevis singer said that all writers are liars, and that he was a writer because he was a liar. i dig that. i was a liar as a child. i don't lie as much these days-- or maybe lie more creatively, i dunno. the truth became as interesting to me, if not more, at some point, that's all.

so is it not a state of mind for those people? or did they write in their head but not on paper? sort of like... accumulating stories that never left them? isn't that painful? i mean, who -are- you, as a writer, before you were a writer? i mean, i am my creativity to such an extent that i can't even imagine who i'd -be- without it. i'd be empty, like a null set. i would have no beginning or end or middle. is it like anyone, who doesn't know who they are and still exist? or is it like, you're a different person, then, and then one day you change radically?
    or does it not matter, can one stay the same, and write? to me, it's a huge difference. it's like writers/artists are wizards and non-artists are muggles. and like with magic, you kind of know early on that you have it. it's sort of the way you can make things levitate and blow up small objects. but maybe some people just "dabble". maybe to some it's just something that comes with experience, with learning, with having something to "say". i mean, do i need to have something to say? some style to follow? some character to give voice to, before i write?
    no.

but that's just me. i write like i breathe. i imagine for some, it's not so instinctual, and more of a gradual skill sort of behavior. you try, discover you can do it, continue doing it because it's fun. you acquire experience, become better, and so on. i have no clue, really, what this does to your identity as a person. do you just relegate it to the realm of "things you can do", like cooking good lasagna and being a wiz at pokemon??
    there are so many people writing something or other, if you just look at the amount of stuff online, fanfic and not. they're all writing. i imagine they all have slightly different reasons for writing-- and for some, it's merely something to pass the time, and they don't need a reason beyond "well, everyone's doing it".

there is a popular school of thought that says anyone who writes is a writer. and i suppose that's true, for obvious reasons (as in, anyone who walks is a walker). but human identity is trickier than that. for a number of people such as myself, their identity is all tied up with this seemingly random act of scribbling things down. i'm not, a writer and a walker and a dancer and a talker and a student and a daughter and a girl, etc. if you asked me to pick one thing i am, it wouldn't be girl or white girl or slasher freak fangirl, or anything. i would say i'm a writer. words define me, consume me, possess me. i am theirs, they are not mine. am i on the same playing field as someone who casually scribbles a pokemon fanfic because they want to see their favorite characters snog? certainly, when i was 12, i wrote a bad poem about beverly hills, 90210. inspiration sources don't matter. i'm just not sure.

sigh. i guess i feel vaguely better, having articulated my "issues", but i get this feeling i'm going around in circles, trying to understand every angle. maybe i should stick to what i do best. whatever that is. ahahaha. writing? gah -.-
~~

    and no need to tell me how lame i am. wrote this at 1am, take pity on me, ahahahah.

-draco's lament-

i'm unhappy but i'm gay (yah)
and i don't care what i say (yah)
oh. i just can't stay away (yah)
can't stay away from you, boy.

you-- you're my sunshine and my rain
(heavy on the rain.) you're one huge aching pain
you'll make me go insane (yah)
but i don't wanna play the same old game

i'm angsting now that i'm in lust
and you know i'm evil and you're just--
i hate you 'cause you make me angst!
oh i hate you, how i hate your guts--
how i hate your cock and mouth and arse!

oh i just want to beat you now
to give some meaning to my life
i know you think i'm too high-brow
but i just want to beat you now.

it'll make me happy, somehow!
i know you think that i'm a git--
well, let me tell you-- i'm SICK OF IT!!
~~
thank you, thank you. *bows* :D
~~

Comments

[holographis.livejournal.com]

like, what do you -do- all those other years? for fun? what do you do with your imagination? have the majority of those people just-- never felt the urge to write or create anything, and instead played video games?

I only started writing last June (just before I turned 17), so yeah, I guess I woke up and though hey, I might write. My first fanfic was written during a quiet spot at work, not because I had a burning desire to write, just because I was bored and had been reading a lot of Snape fic that week. And yeah, before I started writing, I did play video games (I still do...) and I read and played around online but I never felt like writing. I still don't, most days. I like to write and I'd like to think I'm at least an averagely talented writer, but I wouldn't define myself solely as being a writer. It's a small part of what makes me, me.

And before I started writing, I'd have said I had very little imagination at all. I still don't really, which is why improv words help me to feel like I'm not repeating the same ideas in every ficlet, and why I don't write longer pieces. (PS your improv might take, um, forever. Keep waiting. *g*)

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

hee! inspired to show you a possible interpretation :D
~~
He never wrote this. No words, no thoughts, nowhere to turn but inside. Still, frowning, drowning, dreaming. In his dream, There are two paths, two ways to turn instead of one, and both of them dark, smelling of green things and moss and the slow rot of the undergrowth, things sinking underground, tasting of stone and rain.

If he found them in a clearing, he wouldn't be able to see one for the other. They sat huddled by a campfire, heads nodding together, white and black, shining strangely in the moonlight. Iridescent.

There was a sense of purity about it, of rightness. Everything he ever wanted and could never have. They would be holding hands, and whispering, and he wouldn't be able to hear, and he'd think he was blind, even if he couldn't stop seeing it. He had been blind for so long, and he felt the breath scratching at his throat, constricting, filling him up, thick and warm and heady like the secret scent underfoot.

When he woke up, he could barely remember, and there was just a sense of loss, and drift, and confusion. For a moment, he couldn't remember where or who or why he was here, and yet he knew he was supposed to remember. He was supposed to be dreaming of darkness and blood and loss. He was supposed to be hearing those last words, over and over, until he wasted away, blaming himself for everything he'd never done. Nothing to do now, no strength to spare, he could bear to think of it and he won't. He won't think of it.

If he thought hard, he'd remember that she'd been crying, burying her dark head in the crook of one narrow shoulder. Maybe he'd imagined it. He knew he'd imagined it, but it didn't matter, he knew she'd been crying anyway. Her tears would smear all over his fingers, transparent and prickly with salt and regret, if he touched them. If he touched her.

Her face was hidden in shadow, while his was bathed in light. He wasn't crying at all. No, Draco was smiling, his teeth white and pearl-smooth in the moonlight. Harry reached out, bare feet sinking deeper into moss, heart beating fast, and then faster still.

"No...." Because this was all wrong, and the boy was evil, a mask of the enemy. The white mask, and death itself, grinning. That's what this was. The smile must be splitting his face in two, and the other half, maybe it was crying. Harry felt angry, so angry. He wished he was lucid, and had his wand, and could simply blast that stupid grinning face into oblivion.

Forget, forget, forget.

"Obliviate."

And then they looked at each other, and just before he woke up, he thought he remembered something worth keeping. Just before he woke up, he felt free. And when everything had fallen away, empty shells of words littering the night sky like the very stars, so far away even as it was still surrounding them.

When he woke, he couldn't speak, or write, and he wouldn't have wanted to if he could. It ached, it burned, it seethed inside him, this secret he couldn't name. It comforted.

He couldn't delineate what he thought had changed, but he could feel it, pushing at his edges. Today, he might look at him again.
~~

[nmalfoy.livejournal.com]

occurs to me how strange it is to find so many people saying "oh yah, this is my first fic ever" about well-written stories (if they're badly written, i guess it's obvious why/how it's their first fic ever). i mean, especially if you're over 16 (though that's an arbitrary number). how does something just "click" in someone's head like that? do you wake up one day and realize, "hey, i can write! wow!"


For me, well, I'd written stories in my head for years, but nothing on paper. A few short stories here and there, and a couple of plays. I never really thought anyone would be interested in reading what I wrote. Obviously, that changed about a year ago. Have I always been a writer? Sure, in the way that events around me are chronicled in my mind. Have I actually written? Not until recently, because I needed a catalyst to start the fire.

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

hmmm. i like this catalyst idea. i think that's the right track, definitely. this actually makes sense to me, that sometimes reactions/actions need a catalyst. yes.

maybe especially if one is writing for an audience instead of oneself?

but yes, lots of things people "do" need a catalyst. so okay. everything always came so subconsciously to me that i'm never aware, even if the catalyst does exist. i mean, i suppose schooling-- me learning to read-- could be considered a catalyst to reading (and me writing as a response to reading, a response to words themselves).

maybe all the people who -stop- writing at age 25 or 30 or even 18 do so because their energy, their catalytic motivation, had run out, and their identity was never about writing, so it was not that hard to stop.

it's an interesting thing, thinking of it as an "aided choice". i mean, it's a choice (since you sort of chose to not write, before, even if it was just, "well, there's no reason to"). there's such a parallel here, for me, to being queer. i mean, nature vs. nurture. i tend to say, "i was always this way", but i'm realizing that some people start later, some people have different eras and periods where the amount of one impulse exceeds the other, some people have never even had an inkling of this other side to them until one sunshiny day.
so this too, is a choice facilitated by events.

hmm. thanks, that helped~:)

[novembersnow.livejournal.com]

*uncontrollable fit of giggles* That poem is priceless. I think I love you. :D

Also, regarding the whole "hey, I can write!" thing, what always amazes me is people who write their first novel or whatever when they're past middle age. Like, people who retire, or whose children grow up and leave home, and they suddenly decide, "Maybe I'll write," and discover they're good at it. I love that life is full of lovely epiphanies like that, and that you're never too old to learn something about yourself.

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

hee! thanks >:D<
i was angstful about it 'cuz it didn't amuse my loffly beta whose good opinion i obviously covet :D (even though i knew it was stupid, but hey, that never stopped me -before-...)

and yah. though i think the old-people-writing phenomenon is slightly different from the 20-somethings writing phenomenon.
i mean, when you're Really Bored, you try things, and you get that wow factor of suddenly realizing you don't suck (even though -how- they managed to miss it is another question, since -i- certainly can't miss it-- but that's just me).

but when you're say, 19, you're not really trying things out for the heck of it... well, okay, i guess you are. hmm. people are weird.
mostly, this would be a non-issue, it's just that whole division between "hobby" and "state of being" that i wonder about.

discovering a new hobby or ability later in life is one thing.
discovering who you really are when you have 10 years left to live is kind of sad, on the other hand -.-

[ishuca.livejournal.com]

i was angstful about it 'cuz it didn't amuse my loffly beta whose good opinion i obviously covet :D

it amused me. XP
but it also scared me- you -really- needed to go to bed.... and it was -way- past 1am over there!

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

*giggles*
if that sort of thing scares you, i'm going to be scaring you a -lot-, since it really doesn't take much to make me go ther :D
say... gimme a little sugar, a little sleep deprivation, a little caffeine--

almost anything will do XD
i think in encourage it in myself because it amuses me to be insane :D

[ishuca.livejournal.com]

:hugs and laughs:

well, if it makes you feel any better PoL!Draco was -very- happy before PoL began. perfectly content. ^~

hermione is like, -never- all that sad, and neither is ron, in h/d fics anyway.

:X

he might love him but he would -not- do anything unless things happened first. even ip had harry and draco slowly, painfully come to terms with themselves liking one another, even with a love potion. anything else is sheer mockery.

i disagree entirely. i think that perhaps for the most part, you are correct. i also think that PWPs where harry and draco get together 'just because' don't even qualify as one dimensional. but i honestly do think that life is more complex than two people simply feeling their way through something. things and people can be fucked up, and there are so mnay ways for people to get into relationships it's stunning. yes, most are on a similar theme, but there are variations.

there is such a thing as falling too fast, too hard, too 'wrongly', despite who you think yourself to be. that possibility (and others) is also valid. of course, you know what i write, so i'm perhaps bound to disagree.

i'm not saying it's 'healthy'. but life, and love, often isn't. especially between two such as harry and draco.

as per writing.... well, i've always written, if at times only in my head. blessed or cursed with an overactive imagination, that's me. i wrote up until high school, then gave it up for seven years, for personal reasons that i still stick behind. i think the hiatus only helped my writing.

PoL was my first true venture into writing since then, and certainly my first attempt at something long and plotted. you can tell, especially in the beginning (is considering a rewrite of the first 7/8 chapters). but i've always been a writer, i think. it's just been waiting to come out.

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

ahahah. sooooo, if you rewrite the first 7/8 chapters, will there be more h/d ak-shonnnn??

...

my motto (when it comes to ak-shonnn, anyway) is:
NEVER GIVE UP :D

*laughs*
and yes. thanks for calling me on that. i was being pissy over ptg and going overboard as usual. my god, why was i even -reading- it. *coughs up stray cliches still lodged in her throat*

there is such a thing as falling too fast, too hard, too 'wrongly', despite who you think yourself to be. that possibility (and others) is also valid.
w0rd.
yes. yes. but GODDAMNIT, why can't it BE BELIEVABLE. or something. *pouts*
it is, oftentimes, in the hands of a good writer. it's all about good writing, isn't it. yah. i mean, you can really screw up anything and everything, and conversely, make anything and everything happen.

but yah. me? i'm of the "too fast, too hard" variety, most definitely.
ptg in particular didn't -show- the falling but took it for -granted- which is ...well... does it -get- worse than that?? and again, zahra pulls it off, so what do -i- know.

i just wanted some sort of... realism. one way or the other. sometimes i get too excited and -dictate- what said realism -is-, but obviously i don't really have a clue :D

and i understand about not writing for a while-- i've had long-ass dry spells myself. it's hard to imagine -choosing- to, but then, i don't choose much of -anything- on purpose... usually. nothing that big. usually i just let my uncontrollable urges have me. plus, if i don't write, i draw. if i don't draw, i sing stupid songs i make up as i walk home, or when i've been up too long (and yes, i just burst out singing that "poem" at high volume in the middle of the night, overwhelmed by the lameness that is ptg). if i don't sing, i do web-design. if nothing else entirely, i find creative uses for found objects and stick them on the wall. and so on.

i should stop making these sweeping statements that get blown down by the merest wind. sigh. in my defense, i was on my high horse of Mightiness and self-righteous indignation at being summarily told what to think about h & d's relationship before it even started.

but, you know.
i like ur fik, man. it iz g00d. *coughs*

yes, i have deep issues h & d in your fic to the point where if i thought about it, i wouldn't ship them, -in your fic-. they've done nothing to convince me they're doing what's exciting and sexy and emotionally honest and passionate. they're such doofuses. well, harry especially.
'course, you know, when it's all angst, you start to wonder why two people are together. i mean... why was the sex enough to get harry to agree to that?
sure, there are plenty of fics where sex -is- the reason-- like dahlia's fics, say, or twav-- but it's the lightness and froth of those fics that makes me buy it. if it's light, i can accept it being a bit absurd-- but if it's serious, i expect some sort of emotional connection & passion to some degree to be the originating force.

i mean, you can say that it was, in pol also...
i mean, yes. there are definitely ways you can look at it that way. but for the characters, as far as they knew, there was none, that's what i'm saying (like, say, in `dark side of light', even though it was an angstfest, there was convincing bits where we could see them bonding and falling for each other and so on).

you -did- have the games they played-- i remember. but it segued so quickly after that. it was like BOOM, and then nothing-- and i mean NOTHING-- seemed to be the same. like, that blowjob happened, with the icky not-so-sexy control issues that should've sex harry's alarm bells off (but ok, he's fucked up)....
and then they're together.
just like that. and i don't know WHY. or HOW.
except that it's the sex. draco's figured out that he can keep harry under control by letting harry fuck him (instead of vice versa, i guess). ah. i suppose all those -looks- draco's complaining about... that's where it's at, then?

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

so ...harry is obsessed. draco wants to control harry's obsession by being the one instigating it. ok.
but basically, it all seems to rest on draco's pov, this sudden falling. we know that harry stares at him, but we don't know what draco's like, outside of his own head, not really.

so yah, i believe in hard-and-fast-and-furious, but even so, i don't always believe it's -love- if it does happen, if i don't feel it's real, like in my stomach or something. i dunno if that makes sense. but it's like, with ip-- i didn't quite feel it in my stomach, last chapter. sigh.

so your h/d are kind of wibbly for me. i love watching them, but i dunno if i ship them. isn't that weird?

then you can trot out the "in denial" bit and so on...
but yes. you can fall hard and fast (i was trying to mention the whole "crush fic" phenomenon)... don't you know it, though, usually?
i mean, i know i was ranting against self-awareness.... but..... ergh.

there is no winning~:)
of course, i always said that ^^;

[ishuca.livejournal.com]

ahahah. sooooo, if you rewrite the first 7/8 chapters, will there be more h/d ak-shonnnn??

probably not much more. :shrugs:
but again, i'm not writing PoL for the action. ^^
i'm not really sure.

i should stop making these sweeping statements that get blown down by the merest wind. sigh. in my defense, i was on my high horse of Mightiness and self-righteous indignation at being summarily told what to think about h & d's relationship before it even started.

it might be a good idea.
as for the latter, i think that that is why i so dislike zahra's chosen writing style. why it really began to grate on me after the first few pieces. she does nothing -but- tell. yes, she does it beautifully, but there is only so much telling i can take. in all honesty, i would rather read abaddon's work than hers.

and i'm not saying i didn't do other things than write. i did. i drew, sang, etc. but i needed to stop writing, for my own sake. ;P
writing is only one expression of creativity. anthro is another.

yes, i have deep issues h & d in your fic to the point where if i thought about it, i wouldn't ship them, -in your fic-.

you're not the only one. i have never said that h/d in my fic is healthy or sweet or loving. it is dark and violent and fucked up. i have never hidden that (there's a reason my secondary title is 'sadistic desire') and don't think it should be. they'd be a lot healthier without each other.

there is little reason to ship PoL!h/d as they are. there is every reason to ship them as they could be. ;)

so yah, i believe in hard-and-fast-and-furious, but even so, i don't always believe it's -love- if it does happen, if i don't feel it's real, like in my stomach or something.

love isn't the only real emotion out there. anger and hate and kindness and passion and longing are all just as real, and sometimes more present and powerful than love itself. i tend to feel -any- strong emotion in my gut, not just love.

with ip-- i didn't quite feel it in my stomach, last chapter. sigh.

i was singularily unimpressed with the final chapter of IP. but i'm sure you knew that already. though i did like the way it 'ended'. that was nicely set up.

so your h/d are kind of wibbly for me. i love watching them, but i dunno if i ship them. isn't that weird?

no, i think that's fine. it's a perfectly valid response, and one i have myself. i'm looking forward to seeing what you think of the next arc.

as for the rest of your comments.... we will see, won't we?

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

yah, science and thought is of course, yet another form of creativity, though i felt a bit pompous saying, "i think therefore i'm an artist" eheheh :D
and i was kidding about the "action". as evidenced by my spelling XD
i don't think (kidding aside) that the beginning needs to be differently plotted or more "action"-packed or anything of the sort. though i like harping on about it just because i can, hee. er. well, you know-- if i don't, who will? >:D<

well, er, yes. love isn't the only emotion out there :D
and yes to the feeling it in the gut. hmm. what was my original point again?
oh yes, about harry/draco luurve :D
i think i was still trying to beat up -that- horse. heh.
again, was reading ptg-- all about lurve (in the beginning anyway, as far as i read). i don't think ptg and pol really compare. i read/like pol because you write well, period. also it doesn't have a squicky pairing, so i'm not forcing myself, obviously :D

i mean, i may still read things -now- no matter what pairing you write, but i wouldn't have started if you posted say, sirius/snape on veela, instead of h/d :D
you drew me in, you evil person you, with the rhinocerii and the fluttering sheets and the innocuous beginnings. *wrinkles nose at you*
and then, like i said, BOOM. etc.

and did i ever tell you how much i appreciate the brilliantly even attitude you have to any issues i ever have with your fic??!!!

for that reason alone, you rock much much harder than the general population (of fanfic writers, anyway *coughs*)

*huggles*
aww. my hero XD

er. it's just i -so- freak out when something i say honestly freaks someone out. it just totally unhinges me. i didn't -mean- to upset zarah or kassie, with my small comment about the telling thing you mentioned (though i didn't go into detail, just said there was an aspect of her work that i don't tend to like). and the whole slytherlynx debacle. *shudders*
good thing i'm a fast talker :D
ahahahaha. plus, you know, i mean well~:)

zahra... wah. i got sold on zahra's humor and talent and i learned to love the telling, as a style, like a fable sort of thing. she just condenses things-- it's not that she's sloppy, but rather... er... direct.
it's a subtle difference, but it can grow on you, if you're at all susceptible to it. plus, i'm a sucker for crushing fics, everyone knows that :D

and gah. *shudder*
i just -couldn't- take abaddon's plot over zahra, and i -hate- telling-not-showing. of course, i'm a complete raging stylist, so obviously biased :D

and wah. i'm full of the warm-fuzzies at your constant ability to throw my half-baked ideas back at me, refined and yet not crushed. *hearts* ~:D

[ishuca.livejournal.com]

though i felt a bit pompous saying, "i think therefore i'm an artist"

hmmm.... that's not really where i was going with that thought. :considers:
that's a hard call to make, especially since every person has a varying opinion of what makes art art, and what makes a person an artist. i don't personally think that loving and practicing anthropology makes me an 'artist', per se. but it does allow me to express my creativity in different ways. is that artistry? maybe. maybe.

i don't think (kidding aside) that the beginning needs to be differently plotted or more "action"-packed or anything of the sort.

i wouldn't make it more action packed (and yes, i figured you were joking ;) and definitely not change the plotting, but i -would- fix little things. flesh it out. won't be doing that until i finish the whole thing, though. ^^;

though i like harping on about it just because i can, hee. er. well, you know-- if i don't, who will?

:laughs: on the action? only you, babe. only you.

i think i was still trying to beat up -that- horse. heh.

really? i wasn't sure. i mean, you've ripped the flesh from its bones. what more is left? ;P
and i'm glad you don't think ptg and PoL compare, honestly. the only fic i've ever really felt came close to PoL is actually beasts and butterflies, and that was more in sheer -potential- darkness than anything else. loved riddle's death eater idea, though. yum. ;)

i mean, i may still read things -now- no matter what pairing you write

:laughs: speaking of, did you read the H/Hr? what did you think? :pokes:

and did i ever tell you how much i appreciate the brilliantly even attitude you have to any issues i ever have with your fic??!!!

no, but i definitely appreciate you telling me! love your honesty sweetie, really.
and i have to have an even attitude, simply because my betas often say the same things to me. what you said above? nothing i haven't heard before. brutal man, they're brutal. love them for it, too.
and honestly, i see room for improvement nowhere more than in my own writing, so why should i complain and become offended if someone points out my weak areas? they're doing it as a favor to me. if there's anything i learned from my education it's how to suck it up, deal, and listen. =^-^=

good thing i'm a fast talker :D ahahahaha. plus, you know, i mean well~:)

i wish you didn't have to be. and yes, you do. ^^

it's a subtle difference, but it can grow on you, if you're at all susceptible to it.

don't get me wrong, i liked her style initially. however, after the first eight or so pieces i simply became more and more tired of it. for me, all of her writings blurred into this one huge mass where i couldn't differentiate what was what. also, she continued to use the same devices to tell her story- not just the style, but the markers, too. the telling honestly feels formulaic to me. but i can also see what makes her appealing. :shrugs:

i just -couldn't- take abaddon's plot over zahra, and i -hate- telling-not-showing. of course, i'm a complete raging stylist, so obviously biased :D

hmm. i think that since i hate what i see as empty style almost more than anything else i'd still go with abaddon. yes, he stumbles and falls. but i've never felt his writing to be hollow. ~~;

and wah. i'm full of the warm-fuzzies at your constant ability to throw my half-baked ideas back at me, refined and yet not crushed. *hearts* ~:D

well, i'm full of warm fuzzies at you for provoking me into thinking. heheheh. :blows kisses:

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

wah. you know how i was awake at like, 7am today? ahahah i'm such a dork. i thought i had my 'puter lab shift at 12... so i thought, okaaayyy... 4 hours! i can do it! and then you know, i show up, and it was at -11- am... so i missed it. but just goes to show you, i have -not- been "there" today. amazing that maya thought me "coherent", ahahahah. well, okay, it's evening right now. what did i do during the day? hmmmmmm. wah. let's just say i have been kind of swaying on my feet today. i don't think i've read anything but really bad smut. i'm on this mission from god to read all recced h/d smut there is. mind you, -recced-. being on `pure magnetism' counts as "recced", right? ahahahah. i'm having this vision of lots of splattering red blood getting all over harry & draco's pure white robes as they get happily married. heh.

i'm in a bind, you know. i can't stand pure sap -and- pure angst. luckily, i can always do with pure humor, otherwise i'd be screwed. hmm.

so all this was a way of saying, "i kept -meaning- to read the h/hr and holographis' promising-seeming drabble all. day. and yet somehow...."

well, look at me. it's 1am! and i'm thinking only as a secondary reflex. i can always babble, but it's all going out and nothing going in. i think i'll give up. but then i think, but just one more thing!!

sigh.
i totally dig what you're saying about zahra. i think i'm somewhat more forgiving though, when there's a lot of cheeky humor and really brilliant phrasing involved. brilliant phrasing is my bane. i'm really over-sensitive to words. like pepper. words are a lot like hot peppers. well, hot peppers to someone who can only tolerate the "mild" sauce without screaming and running around. ie, me :D

and alternatively, one -really- lame sentence, and i stare at it. and stare. and stare. and STARE.
and get more and more incredulous. and then i just wonder how anyone -could- produce such an abomination. hee.

that's why it was funny, reading your blaise bits. it was like... you're pulling my leg, you're using the devices, but something's different. it's like, dork camouflage. weird.

in the end... i can't stand it when people are awkward and obvious and horribly mundane about saying-- especially horribly mundane things. or not so mundane. it's even worse when it's high and mighty concepts. honestly, i could take chapters 1, 2, 3 and 4 of ptg and use them as perfect examples of dorky-ass writing -.-;;

well no. i mean, abaddon is brilliant, compared to naadi moonfeather and vinagrette and such (actually, trying to compare him and aidan lynch, i just giggle). i still want to cut up `perfect imperfection' into little pieces, any time i think about it. DIE, FIC, DIE!!!!!

and yah. i know what you mean about riddle. one of my first hooks into the fandom, and h/d. now, it looks all over the top and wackt, but i liked it. she's different.
and hee! i think it depends what sort of anthropologist/thinker you are. if you're a -creative- thinker, then you're an artist. if you're a -logical- thinker, you're more of a philosopher scientist type.

maybe it's that i felt that the things that abaddon "just says" in the beginning of ptg are like... sillier than the things zahra says, but i'm not sure. abaddon tends to make more serious points, it's just i disagree with them, maybe that's also it. by just saying them, he prompts me to disagree, whereas zahra doesn't tend to say things i disagree with as much, (and she uses unreliable narration a lot) unless you cound harry wanting oliver~:)

but anyway. falling over. no worries, i'll read it asap (ie, when i'm awake, heh). i really wonder if people resent me for not getting to reading their stuff earlier (not -you-, THEM, ahahah).

like. if they secretly think i'm trying to tell them they're not worth my time, and am rejecting them and saying they suck. *angsts* oh well. i thus procrastinate angstfully, instead of obliviously :D

ps. the girl on your journal page is scary-looking, man -.-

[sarahtales.livejournal.com]

*thinks carefully*
No, I don't have an explanation. I'm like you, reena. (No, not in the *coherent and intelligent* way, that's obvious...)
But writing for me has always been instinctual as breathing. When I was a kid, I told far-fetched tales that nobody was supposed to believe were true because I wanted, felt compelled to - narrate. Share some part of my brain that didn't seem selfish with others, and weave some sort of dream that was almost purely selfish for my own mind.
It reminds me of abba, a bit. I was a dancer before I could walk.
I started writing when I was five, finished my first book when I was seven, wrote Interview with the Vampire fanfic when I was twelve or so before I knew how to connect to the Internet. Fanfiction is just another challenge, the shaping of your dreams around someone else's and striking for originality down a well-trodden path, and indulging your love for someone else's creation with the interpretation of your own intelligence.
I can't stop writing ul, or my original fiction, I think they're going better together even though one side of me thinks, why write fanfic, where's the future there, you're pushed for time as it is, but I just can't *not*, because whenever I close my eyes I see this whole other world and I can't *choose* the world behind my eyelids, I never could, it's always a surprise and I always want to live it and sometimes I can't live it without other people and I have to tell it.
I *am* a writer. Yes.
I could have just said I agreed with you. *flashes rueful grin*

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

*grins back*
you know, you've got me beat. i started writing-- and reading!-- at age 8 (i think the two are pretty connected, so you probably -read- things before first grade forced you to, unlike me, who preferred dancing and drawing and swinging on swings and looking at things and asking questions. i think i always made up stories, i just didn't -write- before eight. which is, i suppose, almost a minor issue, really, considering i couldn't spell beyond my name and like, 20 words, and that's being generous, heh.)

and eeee, that description made me all fuzzy-happy. sometimes ...even in a wide community of people who write fic (and call themselves "fanfic writers", rather than writers, so often), i forget just how -cool- and important and -beyond- fandom (while including it), how life-long and wide-reaching and personal, how tied up with one's history writing can be, and -is- for some of us. it's like... looking beyond the "fandom" or "personal/real life" division and thinking about how truly -personal- and -real- all this really is. *sighs happily*

and, hah! to the "coherent" (i know i'm not, heh) :D
but thank you anyway :D

[lasultrix.livejournal.com]

You didn't read until you were eight? *gasps*

I'm slightly less so now. But - up until a couple of years ago, where I started actually having activities in my life, like a social group and school work that actually took time, et cetera, I was a voracious reader to the point where a day without a book was torture. I read my first long book at the age of three and a half. I have all these horrible memories of times in my childhood where I couldn't read, like long car trips with no book, and that phase where my mother banned my reading during meals. (I don't know why. All the people in my family always ate separately, so it wasn't that I was being rude or anything.) The first time I ever got a specific punishment for anything (apart from being shouted at or my mother slapping me with irritation or the like), the punishment was that I couldn't read until 2pm. Not long, you'd think, yeah? Oh, it was terrible.

I'm not a writer. But my involvement with the fandom has made me so much more writer-y. I get ideas now. They come in words. They have a shape, if I'd just write them down. Just fanfic ideas, of course (I do not aspire to original fiction) but so much more than before.

And I do it all for the feedback. Of course, that's not quite true, but I wouldn't go to the bother of writing down my images and thoughts and doing the grunt work that are certain sections that don't quite flow if it wasn't that other people would read them and think about them and tell me what they thought. With one or two exceptions, of course. Like that original (well, semi-autobiographical, but with so much metaphor you wouldn't notice) piece I read. That *had* to be written down. I probably wouldn't thought of it had there not been that open-ish homework assignment going at the time, but once the idea was there I would have obsessively finished it even if the assignment had been withdrawn, because it meant so fucking much to me to give a shape to what it was *like* - because so much of it was about perceptions that *knowing* what the reality was didn't even come close to giving the true picture - that I had to write it. *laughs* It was probably like vomiting or something. No way that thing could have stayed inside me.

And ye gods, but it means so much to me that you liked that. :)

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

well yah, guess i'm a late bloomer, heh. it's always puzzled me. i mean, so many people that impress me with their intelligence and talent are usually early readers, early talkers, early walkers. i don't think i was all that wunderkind-like, heh. that's always bothered me, 'cause i -wanted- to be, in retrospect. i was precocious, and i talked with grown-ups (ok, my mom) on their level (according to my mom anyway, heh), but...

i drew a lot, see. and danced. and as for stories, my mother read them to me. i think she read me a lot of fairytales and such. i'm probably exaggerrating about the 20 words and such -.-
i could -read-, otherwise they couldn't accept me to the special english-language-centric school for the above-average students or whatever (in moscow i mean). i think i had an interview to get in, and i had to memorize a poem by pushkin. so obviously, i could -read- the poem, ehehehh. though i was so nervous my mom kept mouthing it at me from the back ><

but i don't remember any conscious draw to reading until i was 8. i don't remember writing, either. there's a picture of me next to my name, made from those magnetic-board letters they have as toys for children. so that's where the thing about me being able to spell my name comes from, heh. yeah, and then i was eight, and something switched on, quite suddenly. all through first year i was a regular student, and my favorite activities were probably swimming and drawing fairytale princesses and dancing and -gahd- i wish i remembered better.

i think i may have been early-- in dancing, drawing and such-- but the writing came with greater development. suddenly, i got this obsession, like i'd never seen a book before. i got just like you, like, overnight. i dunno-- i mean, i don't -remember-, but i know that it started then, and my mother says it was quite sudden. and then, you know, couldn't have pried me away from a book most of the time unless i was in class or in my drawing club. it drove my mother crazy, 'cause i'd rather read than do anything else, most especially homework~:) so i'd read for hours after school, and then she'd come home at like, 9 or 10pm and we'd start the fight to get me to stop and do my work instead. ahh, the good old days ^^

it's quite impressive to me, the idea of reading (and not, ba-ba, ma-ma, you know) at 3 :D
i think back then i was mostly... semi-closed-in. semi-autistic, maybe. i doodled and stared off into space and was antisocial but without the excuse of a book to back me up. heh.
so yah, something switched on, second year. i realize this is actually the sort of thing that happens to people who start writing when they're 19 or whatever, but see, i wasn't even the same -person-, before then, not quite. i think reading didn't seem all that fun, in that sort of mindless way that anything "serious" doesn't seem all that fun to a normal five-year-old, but i'm not sure....

and wah. how could i -not- like that story? it was beautiful, and then of course, i have a huge weakness for allegory and personal myth-making (half the stories i wrote until recently-- about 18-22) were like that. it's always blurry to me, the line between wanting to tell stories about the world and about myself-- it's all kind of interconnected.
the first story i wrote, ever, was kind of about myself-- though it was really about my flowers, heh. and their great adventures in my living room. *coughs* well, i was eight ~:)

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

*smiles*
yah, i "got it" after nancy used the catalyst word. i do think a lot of things happen because the right catalyst (stimulus, but it also implies transformation) comes along. in a way, everyone writes because of some catalyst or other, obvious or not.
all genes need something to allow them to express themselves-- the right environment, the right moment, the right emotional balance, whatever.

of course, i dunno what made -me- write. i don't know what made me read, except i liked fairy tales. to me, writing & reading are v. connected. i couldn't do one and not the other. writing is such a -response- to words, in words, through words.
i mean... poetry, fiction, it's all the same. well, you know, except poetry rhymes. or it did when i was little. rhyming was really the big deal, back then~:)

er. so i don't know. i think even writing letters was part of it. i couldn't write letters the same way if i wasn't into writing stories, or write the same sort of poems. everything is always dealing with story, and description, and it all blurs together.

why i write about harry & draco in particular, i have no idea. they kind of live in my head, the bastards -.-

they may as well snog or something >:D<

and don't mind me, am in love with new icon and had to use it -.-