![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/2tL4pyp:sugarspiceandcursewords replied to your post “deputychairman replied to your post “I got talking with my dude…”
I had to fess up to my parents that I wrote fanfic when fanfic actually led me into a brief paying gig. They were bewildered but supportive. I chose a couple of carefully curated stories for them to read and lived in terror of impending humiliation for a day or two until my mom emailed me how much she liked that I’d hooked the two main characters up because “they’re clearly meant to be together.” I kinda have great parents.
Sigh. That sounds so cool.
I have never let my folks read even my original stuff because I just… they don’t… really… get… I don’t know how to say it without sounding like nobody understands me but really we don’t have the same tastes in storytelling in general, it turns out. They’re supportive but they don’t really understand what it is that I’m into exactly.
And like. One of the non-fanfic projects I desperately want to work on? My mom is a talented and professional researcher, and has written several books that are just compilations of her research. F’rex, she found every single Civil War soldier that she possibly could who either had served in the regiment our county raised, or who had settled in our town before or afterward, and wrote up a profile of each soldier. (That book is self-pubbed on the town website.)
And it is so dry. It is so dry. She is a great teller of facts, and a fine storyteller in real life; she was a teacher before she retired, she can make subject matter interesting. But holy shit, she once wrote up an account of the double axe-murder in the 1790s in our small town, and it was so boring I couldn’t finish it. An axe murder! Some dude went nuts and killed his whole family and dog, and turned up at the neighbors’ naked and covered in blood, and they were like holy shit what happened and he was like i don’t know, and in the end they said it was the Devil, and my mother tells this story and i’m like zzzzzzzzzzzhuh? I don’t know how she does it. She’s just. Very dry.
So I’m dying to write a series of stories about the characters in history who’ve lived in my town. I would love to collaborate with her on this. Except…
it means she’d have to read my writing and I can’t handle that, so. I haven’t tried.
I had to fess up to my parents that I wrote fanfic when fanfic actually led me into a brief paying gig. They were bewildered but supportive. I chose a couple of carefully curated stories for them to read and lived in terror of impending humiliation for a day or two until my mom emailed me how much she liked that I’d hooked the two main characters up because “they’re clearly meant to be together.” I kinda have great parents.
Sigh. That sounds so cool.
I have never let my folks read even my original stuff because I just… they don’t… really… get… I don’t know how to say it without sounding like nobody understands me but really we don’t have the same tastes in storytelling in general, it turns out. They’re supportive but they don’t really understand what it is that I’m into exactly.
And like. One of the non-fanfic projects I desperately want to work on? My mom is a talented and professional researcher, and has written several books that are just compilations of her research. F’rex, she found every single Civil War soldier that she possibly could who either had served in the regiment our county raised, or who had settled in our town before or afterward, and wrote up a profile of each soldier. (That book is self-pubbed on the town website.)
And it is so dry. It is so dry. She is a great teller of facts, and a fine storyteller in real life; she was a teacher before she retired, she can make subject matter interesting. But holy shit, she once wrote up an account of the double axe-murder in the 1790s in our small town, and it was so boring I couldn’t finish it. An axe murder! Some dude went nuts and killed his whole family and dog, and turned up at the neighbors’ naked and covered in blood, and they were like holy shit what happened and he was like i don’t know, and in the end they said it was the Devil, and my mother tells this story and i’m like zzzzzzzzzzzhuh? I don’t know how she does it. She’s just. Very dry.
So I’m dying to write a series of stories about the characters in history who’ve lived in my town. I would love to collaborate with her on this. Except…
it means she’d have to read my writing and I can’t handle that, so. I haven’t tried.
