Yuletide:
I'm just happy to place in the top ten, man.
( Screen-capped for posterity. )
This was a story that leapt up and licked me all over the face and demanded that I write it. That's the only reason I got it done so fast. Oh, well, also because I had six million other things to do and it was excellent procrastination. But. It. Seriously. Talky fucking bastards, the muses on this one.
(I wish I could be more specific: I'm pretty sure I won't remember when it comes time for the reveal.)
If my recipient happens to stumble across this entry many moons from now--I hope you enjoyed the story. I mean, if you're searching my journal, you probably did. Unless you're trying to find somewhere to spam me with hatemail? *laughs*
There were two things that I don't know if I managed to do adequately. One was that my recipient said in her Santa letter that she wanted her writer to enjoy writing the story, that she thought you could tell when you read a story if the author had.
I. Uh. Maybe? On a masochistic level? There are so many things kinked about this couple and every time I decided that I was going to ignore factor X as it resided squarely in my squick zone, the muses decided to bring it up. Also: this is a fandom of fucked-up! (How I wish I could say more.) But like I said, it was very definitely a story that wanted me to tell it. And I'm not sure it's really necessary for a writer to enjoy writing, only to be passionate about it. So much good writing comes out of the inspiration of pain, angst and woe, since conflict is the spine of a story.
The other thing was that--and my recipient didn't state this outright, so I'm not totally sure I wasn't just misreading bubbly yuletide glee--but I got the feeling that she wanted a happy ending.
Okay, really, you can take the ending to this story either way. If you choose. And that's about all I care to say about that.
In conclusion: I hope my recipient and other readers find this story as... necessary to read as I found it to write, and that "needed to be told" somehow equates with "totally awesome."
And now I think I will spend the rest of the year playing with penguins and flowers and Starbucks and Rodneysaur.
( Screen-capped for posterity. )
This was a story that leapt up and licked me all over the face and demanded that I write it. That's the only reason I got it done so fast. Oh, well, also because I had six million other things to do and it was excellent procrastination. But. It. Seriously. Talky fucking bastards, the muses on this one.
(I wish I could be more specific: I'm pretty sure I won't remember when it comes time for the reveal.)
If my recipient happens to stumble across this entry many moons from now--I hope you enjoyed the story. I mean, if you're searching my journal, you probably did. Unless you're trying to find somewhere to spam me with hatemail? *laughs*
There were two things that I don't know if I managed to do adequately. One was that my recipient said in her Santa letter that she wanted her writer to enjoy writing the story, that she thought you could tell when you read a story if the author had.
I. Uh. Maybe? On a masochistic level? There are so many things kinked about this couple and every time I decided that I was going to ignore factor X as it resided squarely in my squick zone, the muses decided to bring it up. Also: this is a fandom of fucked-up! (How I wish I could say more.) But like I said, it was very definitely a story that wanted me to tell it. And I'm not sure it's really necessary for a writer to enjoy writing, only to be passionate about it. So much good writing comes out of the inspiration of pain, angst and woe, since conflict is the spine of a story.
The other thing was that--and my recipient didn't state this outright, so I'm not totally sure I wasn't just misreading bubbly yuletide glee--but I got the feeling that she wanted a happy ending.
Okay, really, you can take the ending to this story either way. If you choose. And that's about all I care to say about that.
In conclusion: I hope my recipient and other readers find this story as... necessary to read as I found it to write, and that "needed to be told" somehow equates with "totally awesome."
And now I think I will spend the rest of the year playing with penguins and flowers and Starbucks and Rodneysaur.