On Work and Writing

I've been productive already! And not the frantic productive nijawial was witness to last night when my immediate response to her was 'I'M WORKING! REALLY I AM!'. And I was. Sort of. Slowly.

Laid down the base coat for the hilt and pommel of the sword. I was going to do finally get rid of the pink lining of my dress, but now my seam ripper has disappeared. WTF? Why do things keep going missing on me? Things I need! It's frustrating.

I'm honestly not panicking right now. I've found a good balance of getting everything done.

It's bizarre how the most random things can get to me. I got a review on one of my Lovecraft crossover fics the other day that was basically extremely complimentary, but told me I was wasting myself with writing fics. The reviewer wondered why in the world I was posting on ff.net when I could be submitting original work to magazines! And further suggested I take down the fic, tweak it, remove the Death Note aspects and submit it as an original Lovecraft Mythos story.

I do write original fic, and I do submit it. And yes, it's horror. Horror is my bread and butter. I've got a couple little dinky publications to my name, and some stuff submitted for consideration for anthologies. I write fic because I enjoy it, and honestly, it gives me a hell of a lot more satisfaction than my original stuff. And my crossover? Wouldn't be the same story, or in my opinion even a good story, without those fan fic aspects. The story is about Naomi and L (and Watari, too) and their experiences in this horrific setting. Who wants to read the same story about...about what? Some random Private Investigator chick and her pet genius? Not the same.

And yes, this review, despite being complimentary, still bothers me. But it always bothers me when anyone suggests I'm wasting my time with fic, or I should focus on original writing. Original writing? Is not my passion. I thought it was, but it's not. I don't know what my passion is. I don't care that I don't know what my passion is. I do what I enjoy, because otherwise, what's the point?

I got half of chapter five for Bright Young Things written last night. I hope I haven't lost the flow of the story. I went and re-read the first four chapters and went 'damn, there's a whole lot of creepy wrong going on here'. I'd forgotten just how subtlety disturbing some scenes were.

Hopefully I can keep that theme up, even though it's been so long since I started it.

I think I've babbled on enough here, I'm going to get dressed and see if I can find my seam ripper.

TRIUMPH!

So guess who hand stitched a delicate lace choker, painted a sword hilt and pommel, and put together dinner? That's right, me. Most of my sewing stuff is currently finicky little hand-sewing projects, which I hate. But I conquered one! And I've got the first coat of gold down on the hilt/pommel. These acrylic paints I got are really nice. And I found my seam ripper! I'd stuck it in my little Japanese reed box. Why, I don't know. Probably so I wouldn't lose it.

I'm thinking about sitting down and working on writing/RP stuff. But damn fic things keep invading. I'm already working on BYT V, and now this completely bizarre Silent Hill epic is poking me. With an impossible pairing. (Henry/Angela, wtf?)

Oh brain, please get inspired for the things I need you to be inspired for. Please. I'll give you nicotine if you do.