Mar. 8th, 2005

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Just as I was logging in - out of the corner of my eye I see a lovely layered sunset on the Western Horizon, the rest of the sky is dark whitish gray, but at the edge of it is a window of lavender blending to pink, orange and red in a strip between the rooves of the buildings and the cloud heavy sky. As if a painter has covered an winter landscape at in only whites and grays yet at the very edge thrown in a spot or wedge of color. Transfixed - I turn quickly towards my windows to see more, forget to scoot my chair back and end up stubbing my big toe on my harddrive or computer tower. OW! OW! OW! This in a nutshell explains my relationship with my art. The more beautiful - the more painful.

Before logging in - I managed to write five more short paragraphs. The story is in my head - it's getting it on paper and into words that is the problem. If I could just paint and draw it, I might be fine. Oh it will come. I just need to get through the first hurdle and not, I repeat, not, give a fuck what anyone thinks of it at this point or even consider showing it to anyone. Just write.

Speaking of creative writting - I guess I should add my two-cents to the fanfic appreciation week. Especially since some of the folks on my flist I initially friended because I happened to love their fic. Writers should support one another and all that. After all - if we don't, who will?
Everyone else out there thinks we're crazy. What - spend an entire weekend doing nothing but typing away on some story that may or may not see an audience? May not go anywhere? Why do that? When you could be playing tennis.
Swimming. Hiking. Going to the gym. Dancing. Ah. If you are not a writer, you will never understand the high one gets when words begin to flow, story takes off and the characters actually start to speak to you. It sounds insane, I know, but there is no high like it. None. But like all natural highs - you frigging have to work for it. Sweat. Push past that barrier wall. And that's hell. Also - creative or fiction writers are considered crazier than non-fiction. People can see the point of writing a "news" article or "how-to" manual or a "history" or a "memoire" or even a travelogue. But a fictional work? A story? Please. Ages ago a writing teacher told me to only write if you feel the need to do so, actually want to - not because you think you can make a living at it. That's why I write - because of that drive. That ache. And partly because no one is telling the story I want to read or see told. I can't find it, outside of me. And my writing voice changes dependent on my moods. I wish it would stay constant - but I'm not sure that's possible. When I'm in a better, chipper mood - it's sort of this snarky conversational tone. When I'm more depressed, it gets very poetic and metaphorical.

Regarding fanfic. For me it is a guilty pleasure - for two reasons: 1) Copyright law - while allowing it on a very limited basis is generally speaking against the whole deal. (There's a loophole in the statute that permits people to play with others works as long as their play does not infringe on the other person's income from that work or infringe on their ownership of it.) So coming from that background puts me in an odd position. I feel a bit like a hypocrite or something. Now that I've move away from copyright law, I don't care so much. 2)I tend to like the erotic ones, so feel a bit like I'm sneaking Playgirl magazines or something. Hate to admit that, but there you go.

long ramble confession about fanfic, what I like, etc. )

Okay must go and get myself some dinner. Tomorrow...I turn 38. Don't dread it any more. Feeling sort of oddly chipper actually.

My New Year's Eve is tonight I suppose. Although according to my mother I was born at 8pm. Any astrologers out there? 8pm, Evanston, Illinois, March 9, 1967. Double Piceses. Moon and Sun, I think. Which may or may not explain a lot. What am I doing for it? Scheduled a massauge from a Chinese masseuse at 6pm, after work, and dinner with Wales. Assuming the weather doesn't discourage us, too much. Ugh. It's March, can winter please be over now?

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