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To those who commented on my last post...
Thank you. Reading over the post now stirs up a mixture of "bleurgh" and "oh God this is why I need to sleep on things before actually posting anything" in me, but at the same time I can see I needed to purge that night, so perhaps the insomnia was a blessing in disguise. I thought of editing the entry to put everything behind a cut, but I have this thing about online journals that's probably a little weird - like, once I put it out there, it's out there, and the way life works is you own what you say even if you evolve into a different person later on, and you can't take everything back. Also, it's probably a bad idea to internalize everything. So. It's not hurting anybody at all and it only serves as a mildly embarrassing blip on the radar of my personal history. Like my bad!fic. Much as a part of me would like to wipe that from existence, it's there. And it reminds me where I came from.
(This is probably going to prove me a very big hypocrite in a few months, but I'll cross that bridge when I get there.)
Going over the comments gave me the itch to respond to various things! First off - the actual writer's block I'm going through. The thing about writing is that for me, while it is work and it is demanding and exhausting and like sucking poison out of my body, it's also extremely, extremely cathartic. Getting things out of my head is literally a compulsion for me. I get very irritated when I get interrupted or distracted; when I'm in it I am in it and God help you if you cross my path. (I'm sure it's that way for many fellow writers and other creative artists as well!) Likewise, I get frustrated when I am somehow "kept" from writing. Let's call it the writing equivalent of blue balls (I deal in classy analogies; I can tell you are jealous). There's this massive buildup that gets to the point where it's (oh God forgive the term but really I REGRET NOTHING) turgid with words and narrative that aches for release and the more it gets delayed the more aggravating it gets and then when you FINALLY get your chance you fucking PAINT THE GARAGE (blame Patton Oswalt for the metaphor but SERIOUSLY, I REGRET NOTHING) buuuuuut then you step back and look at it and the garage? Not really painted at all! Just a HUGE FUCKING MESS. And you get to clean that disgusting mess up.
Writing for me is like regular exercise. I bitch and moan and whine and groan endlessly about it, but when I find the self-discipline to actually do it, and work through the pain, I feel so. Fucking. GOOD afterwards. And the more regular I am about it, the easier it gets, and the easier it gets, the better I feel. But staving it off results in a huge fucking mess that makes me doubly unhappy because now I have to work even harder to clean it up. Or just buy a new fucking garage. I have gone through many garages.
What's keeping me from writing is mostly - and this tends to be the case 99% of the time, it's just that this time it's feeling particularly egregious - myself. Surprise, except not! For a long time prior, though, it actually had been the work of external events keeping me from writing. Moving, job change, various emergencies, etc. Now, though, everything has settled down. The problem? I can't get my ass in bed at a reasonable hour that enables me the full hour of writing time in the morning that I deserve. And when I do plant my ass in front of my computer? I find a million different things to distract myself from writing at all.
It's not that I'm trying to force it, really. It's that I am giving up too easily and am lacking in the self-discipline I need to get to where I used to be. Where I want to be. I know and understand why the muse isn't visiting. It's because I haven't been making the place very receptive to his/her presence (my muse is undecided on its gender).
This all probably sounds like perpetual self-flagellating, and there's probably a great deal of that that's genuinely in there; as previously mentioned I do hold myself to some impossibly high standards. But I've also been writing long enough and examined my habits long enough to know myself. Not a hundred percent, but better than a lot of people know themselves. So I know I could be doing a lot better. Especially because I did it before.
Now, though, here's the happy news with regards to my writing! The couple of days before that night where I decided I was going to go completely MENTAL, I actually wound up getting a rough outline started for the last chapter of Part 2 and the whole of Part 3. This is good. This is good because getting the outline started for the first 2/3 of TEF was instrumental in motivating me to actually write it. I plan to start organizing it on Monday, even writing some, possibly.
So! That long ass rambling aside! The Death of the Author thing. Like, my issue there isn't that my work will get away from me and become its own thing. I've known that for a while now and welcome it, because it has resulted in some wonderful, beautiful things that I was too close to see or recognize on my own.
No. My issue is less with my babies leaving me and DotA, which is really about critical insights having as much legitimacy as my own. My issue is this: It bothers me immensely that a female character who is portrayed as an able, competent, intelligent, resourceful young woman is automatically defined as a Mary Sue, and therefore, by definition, unrealistic and undeserving of sympathy.
The real issue is not that I am receiving criticism; I welcome criticism! The real issue is that that particular criticism is being leveled. Mary Sue has become such a loose term as of late; more than anything it's used these days to describe "female character I don't like." I don't mind if you don't like TEF!Blossom! Well, I mind a little. But I mind more that a term that's pretty deeply rooted in misogyny is being leveled at her by - the worst of it for me - female readers. I don't want to get too much into what I'm trying to do with Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup, but suffice to say I do want the readers to root for them despite their flaws, whether it be that they're too stubborn, or too flighty, or even too perfect. I want readers to see their sisters and friends in them, maybe even someone they don't like very much. I want them to see themselves there, too. I want TEF to do what a cartoon about three superpowered five-year-old girls did for me nearly 14 years ago - root for them, want to be them, and realize that regardless of what anybody might do to you or say about you, it doesn't make you less able, or less respected, or less worthy of love.
I will get around to replying later. For now, thanks again - and thanks also to the beautiful, wonderful people who keep drawing stuff for TEF. I did not think I would ever have so many wonderful fans to speak of, but I do, and I am happy to say that you guys really, really are the best. ♥
(This is probably going to prove me a very big hypocrite in a few months, but I'll cross that bridge when I get there.)
Going over the comments gave me the itch to respond to various things! First off - the actual writer's block I'm going through. The thing about writing is that for me, while it is work and it is demanding and exhausting and like sucking poison out of my body, it's also extremely, extremely cathartic. Getting things out of my head is literally a compulsion for me. I get very irritated when I get interrupted or distracted; when I'm in it I am in it and God help you if you cross my path. (I'm sure it's that way for many fellow writers and other creative artists as well!) Likewise, I get frustrated when I am somehow "kept" from writing. Let's call it the writing equivalent of blue balls (I deal in classy analogies; I can tell you are jealous). There's this massive buildup that gets to the point where it's (oh God forgive the term but really I REGRET NOTHING) turgid with words and narrative that aches for release and the more it gets delayed the more aggravating it gets and then when you FINALLY get your chance you fucking PAINT THE GARAGE (blame Patton Oswalt for the metaphor but SERIOUSLY, I REGRET NOTHING) buuuuuut then you step back and look at it and the garage? Not really painted at all! Just a HUGE FUCKING MESS. And you get to clean that disgusting mess up.
Writing for me is like regular exercise. I bitch and moan and whine and groan endlessly about it, but when I find the self-discipline to actually do it, and work through the pain, I feel so. Fucking. GOOD afterwards. And the more regular I am about it, the easier it gets, and the easier it gets, the better I feel. But staving it off results in a huge fucking mess that makes me doubly unhappy because now I have to work even harder to clean it up. Or just buy a new fucking garage. I have gone through many garages.
What's keeping me from writing is mostly - and this tends to be the case 99% of the time, it's just that this time it's feeling particularly egregious - myself. Surprise, except not! For a long time prior, though, it actually had been the work of external events keeping me from writing. Moving, job change, various emergencies, etc. Now, though, everything has settled down. The problem? I can't get my ass in bed at a reasonable hour that enables me the full hour of writing time in the morning that I deserve. And when I do plant my ass in front of my computer? I find a million different things to distract myself from writing at all.
It's not that I'm trying to force it, really. It's that I am giving up too easily and am lacking in the self-discipline I need to get to where I used to be. Where I want to be. I know and understand why the muse isn't visiting. It's because I haven't been making the place very receptive to his/her presence (my muse is undecided on its gender).
This all probably sounds like perpetual self-flagellating, and there's probably a great deal of that that's genuinely in there; as previously mentioned I do hold myself to some impossibly high standards. But I've also been writing long enough and examined my habits long enough to know myself. Not a hundred percent, but better than a lot of people know themselves. So I know I could be doing a lot better. Especially because I did it before.
Now, though, here's the happy news with regards to my writing! The couple of days before that night where I decided I was going to go completely MENTAL, I actually wound up getting a rough outline started for the last chapter of Part 2 and the whole of Part 3. This is good. This is good because getting the outline started for the first 2/3 of TEF was instrumental in motivating me to actually write it. I plan to start organizing it on Monday, even writing some, possibly.
So! That long ass rambling aside! The Death of the Author thing. Like, my issue there isn't that my work will get away from me and become its own thing. I've known that for a while now and welcome it, because it has resulted in some wonderful, beautiful things that I was too close to see or recognize on my own.
No. My issue is less with my babies leaving me and DotA, which is really about critical insights having as much legitimacy as my own. My issue is this: It bothers me immensely that a female character who is portrayed as an able, competent, intelligent, resourceful young woman is automatically defined as a Mary Sue, and therefore, by definition, unrealistic and undeserving of sympathy.
The real issue is not that I am receiving criticism; I welcome criticism! The real issue is that that particular criticism is being leveled. Mary Sue has become such a loose term as of late; more than anything it's used these days to describe "female character I don't like." I don't mind if you don't like TEF!Blossom! Well, I mind a little. But I mind more that a term that's pretty deeply rooted in misogyny is being leveled at her by - the worst of it for me - female readers. I don't want to get too much into what I'm trying to do with Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup, but suffice to say I do want the readers to root for them despite their flaws, whether it be that they're too stubborn, or too flighty, or even too perfect. I want readers to see their sisters and friends in them, maybe even someone they don't like very much. I want them to see themselves there, too. I want TEF to do what a cartoon about three superpowered five-year-old girls did for me nearly 14 years ago - root for them, want to be them, and realize that regardless of what anybody might do to you or say about you, it doesn't make you less able, or less respected, or less worthy of love.
I will get around to replying later. For now, thanks again - and thanks also to the beautiful, wonderful people who keep drawing stuff for TEF. I did not think I would ever have so many wonderful fans to speak of, but I do, and I am happy to say that you guys really, really are the best. ♥