…I’m done with “Child of Iron, Goblet of Fire,” and will post the final chapter and author note later today.
What comes next? … I’ve no idea.
We have a road trip coming up shortly, and I expect that I’ll spend a lot of the time when I’m not driving reading or just watching scenery and letting my mind wander – refilling the well, or restocking the pond, whichever metaphor suits best.
I set the goal of ten novellas this year – and that’s ten *original fiction* novellas, thanks. No disrespect to fanfiction – which surely didn’t need to be said, but I’ve found that when things “don’t need to be said,” then they *really* need to be said.
Reading (and re-reading) fanfiction brought me great comfort this past year at a time when I really needed it, and I’m forever grateful to all the authors whose work I read (and re-read). And of course, I enjoy writing fanfiction, too. (With a footnote for this past year; “Child of Iron” was an emotional slog. That’s not its fault, nor mine, just a sad result of my mom dying about halfway through it. I took a break to deal with her estate and to grieve, and then, when I came back … well, a lot of the joy was gone from “Child.” I still finished it, and I’m proud of it, but it wasn’t half as much fun writing the back half as it was writing the front half.)
Anyway. I have a few ideas bouncing around in my head (and a folder full of prompts) – like the accidental summonings reversal squad (for those times when your Roomba bounces around your Ouija board rug and accidentally summons a demon); or a variation on Stargate: Atlantis set on Farfarout; or a historical fantasy where tea is treated like wine; or a series of cozy procedural mysteries set on the Lunar colony.
I don’t lack for ideas. I lack for … well, joy. Writing is supposed to be fun, and for much of this past year (again, nobody’s fault, just a result of circumstance) it really hasn’t been.
And – to divert onto a mini-rant – that not-fun was exacerbated by some commenters who didn’t understand boundaries and didn’t get it when I suggested (generally; in an author’s note to a chapter) that they back off.
I understand, really, and respect that their comments were because they were enjoying my story and that story somehow touched them. I understand that feeling, because I’ve had it, and I’ve had to sit on my fingers to keep myself from doing what they did.
What did they do that bothered me so much? Sent me messages (sometimes long; sometimes multiples in the same day) that were variations of, Is X, Y, Z going to be in this? Or, A, B, C would be really cool! Some came with outright “You should…” and many were, “I want…”
Okay, the blast is here; skip this paragraph if you’re easily offended. How fucking dare they try to write my story for me? Every single “suggestion” came across as a demand
, and, frankly, folks – not one of you has the right to demand a damn thing of someone who’s already providing you entertainment for free. Entitled, much?
Dealing with that lack of boundaries was difficult, not least because ever since I started posting my first fanfic back in (checks) 2008, I’ve said publicly and often that I have the greatest reviewers/commenters/fans anyone could ask for. The outpouring of sympathy when my mom died just reinforced that feeling – no, that conviction. So having a (very, I must emphasize – a very) few who weren’t the greatest…?
Well, that just means it’ll take me a while to process it and grieve it and get back to my normal self – you know, the self who finds writing a joy and is able to write fast and freely and find the weird and quirky in any situation.
So – no plans for more fanfic right now. Right now is for reading and journaling (pen and paper; just for me) and, eventually, opening up to whatever story(ies!) wants to be written.
