After a long and interesting little conversation with wendymr last night, I started musing about writing a bit. And this probably will make no sense to anyone but me, but meh – it’s a Real Blog Entry(tm) about something on my mind.
I mentioned to her, and I think I’ve mentioned it here and there that the big issue with wiggiemomsi‘s fic for Support Stacie is my pacing. After doing a draft, I wondered what the point of the whole thing was, given that it apparently could be solved and wrapped up so easily.
So now I’m working on stretching it out, adding a bit more suspense, and just some… oomph… into it. That, of course, has resulted in snipping some bits, altering others, etc. It’s amazing how organic the writing process is. Kind of corny, perhaps, but it’s much like the tomatoes I have growing on my patio – little twists and turns, bending around obstacles, rushing forward when there’s freedom.
It’s getting there, and while I’m irritated with myself about how long it’s taking, I’m also much happier with where it’s going. Better to turn out something I’m pleased with than rush it and not be happy with the result, IMHO. Unlike those X-File fics from years past that I tend to wince at when I reread, I’d like to have a few years where I can be proud of what I’ve written here.
The difficulty is avoiding writing total cliched crap. I realize that it’s a relative term, and that to the majority of fic readers out there my writing is still crap, whether due to topic or style or dialogue or whatever. I’ll be honest – the fear of failure is paralyzing sometimes. And not that cliched fic doesn’t have it’s place. I enjoy quite a bit of it, and I’ll admit to occasionally feeling the desire to just sink into it myself because (again, in theory, but not necessarily practice) it’s familiar.
BUT… I’m also of the mindset that I want to try to find new avenues to write about, where I’ve found an absence of fic. No idea is truly new, of course, but I’ll try my best to find a way to look at something fresh if I’m able.
Again – fear of failure. I has it.
So in conclusion, I suppose – Wiggie’s fic is a tomato plant, occasionally stunted by fear.
Makes sense, right?