A Rose By Any Other Game...
Aug. 14th, 2001 09:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thessalianI guess you'd call me a writer. Unpaid, but certainly not unappreciated (at least not in the last two years or so). I've been writing something since I was five or so and was trying to get the story of my short life down on paper. I didn't like it - it wasn't very honest. It only showed the lighter side. But I still did it. I wanted to write things - Stephen King was my idol from the age of about 10 or so - here was a man considered a freak by his peers at his schools, just like me, and look what he went on to do.
I loved creative writing assignments at school. I did poetry for awhile and even got one of my poems published in a citywide student writing magazine. Then I tried my hand at a novel - this was when I was about 16. I had a couple of friends who hung around whatever school printer I was using at the time, waiting avidly for the next chapter or rewrite. I guess that was the point at which the dim dream became a real fire - not only did I want it, I could actually do it.
Look at me now. Author of one of the most popular fanfic series of its kind. Working on a novel. And wondering what all the fuss is about. It's just words on a page - what my mother used to call "living in a fantasy world". I get to play God - isn't that special? Huh. What have I got that a half-million other people on this ball of rock we Homo sapiens call home haven't got more of? Who the hell says I could? Me, once. And since that's supposed to be the only opinion that matters...
Dil wonders what I'd do if I wasn't a writer, or at least actively trying to be. Well, there's plenty of job options for someone of my skills, so that's not an issue. None of them are my dream, but they'd all keep a roof over my head. Mamo-chan stated that, if I really did say that I didn't want to be a writer anymore, he'd be making sure to keep me the hell away from sharp objects. But he also states that my muse wouldn't let me off that easily. And the worst part is, he's right. It would be a fight to the death. Of course, either death would get me what I seem to want tonight.
Why do I bring this up? Mainly because I got hit with an idea this evening, and it's a kicker. But it's one of the projects I was actively trying to give up because of Ryu's unwillingness to further involve himself with it (given his soon-to-be schedule, I can see a little better as to why. Side-note - I'm not likely to see him online for four months - do you have any clue how much that sucks?). I want to work on it so badly it makes my teeth itch, but it brought up why I wanted it so badly. And the only thing I could actively think of was "it makes me too happy" or "it feels too right". Maybe because, bar a few people, it's all I have left. Why don't I want anything?
Something is seriously wrong here. This can't be me talking. Can it?
Thessaly
I loved creative writing assignments at school. I did poetry for awhile and even got one of my poems published in a citywide student writing magazine. Then I tried my hand at a novel - this was when I was about 16. I had a couple of friends who hung around whatever school printer I was using at the time, waiting avidly for the next chapter or rewrite. I guess that was the point at which the dim dream became a real fire - not only did I want it, I could actually do it.
Look at me now. Author of one of the most popular fanfic series of its kind. Working on a novel. And wondering what all the fuss is about. It's just words on a page - what my mother used to call "living in a fantasy world". I get to play God - isn't that special? Huh. What have I got that a half-million other people on this ball of rock we Homo sapiens call home haven't got more of? Who the hell says I could? Me, once. And since that's supposed to be the only opinion that matters...
Dil wonders what I'd do if I wasn't a writer, or at least actively trying to be. Well, there's plenty of job options for someone of my skills, so that's not an issue. None of them are my dream, but they'd all keep a roof over my head. Mamo-chan stated that, if I really did say that I didn't want to be a writer anymore, he'd be making sure to keep me the hell away from sharp objects. But he also states that my muse wouldn't let me off that easily. And the worst part is, he's right. It would be a fight to the death. Of course, either death would get me what I seem to want tonight.
Why do I bring this up? Mainly because I got hit with an idea this evening, and it's a kicker. But it's one of the projects I was actively trying to give up because of Ryu's unwillingness to further involve himself with it (given his soon-to-be schedule, I can see a little better as to why. Side-note - I'm not likely to see him online for four months - do you have any clue how much that sucks?). I want to work on it so badly it makes my teeth itch, but it brought up why I wanted it so badly. And the only thing I could actively think of was "it makes me too happy" or "it feels too right". Maybe because, bar a few people, it's all I have left. Why don't I want anything?
Something is seriously wrong here. This can't be me talking. Can it?
Thessaly
