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Dusting off this old thing to sign up for the writing pledge! Pay no attention to all the teenage posts I imported from LiveJournal. That was a decade and several genders ago. Life is full of twists. But the writing remains, a constant yearning in my soul. Time to do something about that.
on creativity, part 2
Mar. 9th, 2019 07:04 pm content note: mention of recreational weed use.
Today, I did it. I came home from work, changed my clothes, helped my roommate start dinner, and—retired. For half an hour, I read, until my mind released the frayed loose ends of the workday and settle into quietness. Then, I stretched out on my bed and let my mind wander.
Most days, I get home from work, only to be immediately caught up in household chores. The grocery list that needs making, the laundry that needs washing (or folding, or putting away). The dinner that, every evening, needs cooking for the body that, every day, needs food.
Always, there is something else, new chores sprouting hydra-like from those already completed. If I make dinner, then I think, well, I ought to pack a lunch for tomorrow and wash the dishes. Finishing the grocery list leaves me with little sense of accomplishment, just a creeping sense of disappointment that I didn’t also finish the taxes. Projects, big and small, languish in the back of my mind, collecting guilt.
It’s frustrating. Workdays are ruled by my to-do lists: endless stacks of neatly penned items waiting to be crossed off. There are phone calls to answer, customers to wait on, trainings to complete, procedures to explain, emails to write. It sucks the color out of the hours that belong to me when I fill them, too, with action items and productivity metrics. Letting go of the pattern, though, is hard.
For most of February, I was sick. (With mono, I eventually learned, though for the first week I tried to ignore the fatigue, thinking it merely depression overlaid with a cold.) The illness reminded me, sharply, that my body has needs that cannot be ignored. For several weeks, I dragged myself to and from work, and very little else. There were days I lay on the couch, texting my roommates to bring me food. Despite a mind filled with projects, the body said No.
In a different way, getting high also grounds me in my body. It reminds me how inescapably physical my existence is, and how beautiful that can be. When I choose to spend an evening in an altered state, I set aside all my lists and tasks. It’s a conscious choice to spend the evening in simple existence. Eating. Journaling. Watching a movie, or the cat’s antics, or a candle flame.
Both mononucleosis and marijuana have reminded me how to slow down. Yesterday, I realized that I could do so voluntarily, without either.
Today, I did so. I helped a bit with dinner (thanks to my currently-stay-at-home roommate who’s doing most of the cooking lately). I checked that I would have clean clothes tomorrow. I wrote down all the projects in my head. Then, I set it all aside. After all, if I were still sick, I’d be lying down, too tired to read, and everything would be fine. So too, I reminded myself, it will be fine if I let myself read.
Free time. Thoroughly delicious quiet.
Too-rarely-tasted rest.
I read.
I thought.
I wrote.
I ate dinner with my roommates.
We read aloud.
I ignored the bathroom sink that wants scrubbing and the empty wall that wants decorations. There will be time for those, at some point. Solitude and rest come first.
Today, I did it. I came home from work, changed my clothes, helped my roommate start dinner, and—retired. For half an hour, I read, until my mind released the frayed loose ends of the workday and settle into quietness. Then, I stretched out on my bed and let my mind wander.
Most days, I get home from work, only to be immediately caught up in household chores. The grocery list that needs making, the laundry that needs washing (or folding, or putting away). The dinner that, every evening, needs cooking for the body that, every day, needs food.
Always, there is something else, new chores sprouting hydra-like from those already completed. If I make dinner, then I think, well, I ought to pack a lunch for tomorrow and wash the dishes. Finishing the grocery list leaves me with little sense of accomplishment, just a creeping sense of disappointment that I didn’t also finish the taxes. Projects, big and small, languish in the back of my mind, collecting guilt.
It’s frustrating. Workdays are ruled by my to-do lists: endless stacks of neatly penned items waiting to be crossed off. There are phone calls to answer, customers to wait on, trainings to complete, procedures to explain, emails to write. It sucks the color out of the hours that belong to me when I fill them, too, with action items and productivity metrics. Letting go of the pattern, though, is hard.
For most of February, I was sick. (With mono, I eventually learned, though for the first week I tried to ignore the fatigue, thinking it merely depression overlaid with a cold.) The illness reminded me, sharply, that my body has needs that cannot be ignored. For several weeks, I dragged myself to and from work, and very little else. There were days I lay on the couch, texting my roommates to bring me food. Despite a mind filled with projects, the body said No.
In a different way, getting high also grounds me in my body. It reminds me how inescapably physical my existence is, and how beautiful that can be. When I choose to spend an evening in an altered state, I set aside all my lists and tasks. It’s a conscious choice to spend the evening in simple existence. Eating. Journaling. Watching a movie, or the cat’s antics, or a candle flame.
Both mononucleosis and marijuana have reminded me how to slow down. Yesterday, I realized that I could do so voluntarily, without either.
Today, I did so. I helped a bit with dinner (thanks to my currently-stay-at-home roommate who’s doing most of the cooking lately). I checked that I would have clean clothes tomorrow. I wrote down all the projects in my head. Then, I set it all aside. After all, if I were still sick, I’d be lying down, too tired to read, and everything would be fine. So too, I reminded myself, it will be fine if I let myself read.
Free time. Thoroughly delicious quiet.
Too-rarely-tasted rest.
I read.
I thought.
I wrote.
I ate dinner with my roommates.
We read aloud.
I ignored the bathroom sink that wants scrubbing and the empty wall that wants decorations. There will be time for those, at some point. Solitude and rest come first.
on creativity, part 1
Mar. 7th, 2019 06:22 pmwritten 3/5/19
content note: discussion and use of recreational weed
I'm high right now. Enough so that I lose my train of thought between one tick and the next tock. Seconds or minutes later, I find myself pondering an entirely different subject, unsure how I got there or why gravity holds me so strongly against the bed.Time slows enough that I have to concentrate in order to remember lighting the candles, a bit ago. I love the beginning of being high, when it enfolds me like slow, honey-drizzled warmth. Less to my liking are the wide-separated minutes upon endless minutes that later follow.
I have some interesting realizations in this state, though. Last time I realized that reading, and fantasy, was the missing piece in my recent creative life. My past times of regular writing and creativity have coincided precisely with times of voracious reading. This year, I've been trying to write again, but without reading much. No wonder it's all been dry. Since that realization, I've read over three works of fiction, and it feels like a missing piece clicking into place.
Tonight's stoned ponderings are these: I wonder what it would be like to recall, when sober, the brain patterns of being high, and emulate them. I’ve wondered before if recreational drugs might be an avenue to learning different responses and modes of existence. Could I, when sober, consciously sit down and emulate the slowing, the gentling of my mind that I feel when the weed comes on? I bet I could slip sideways into that open-minded peaceful creativity, without the accompanying deep time dilation.
I could plan an evening to come home and sit with my writing. I could give myself a whole, beautiful evening of delicious creative time. (I'm thinking about Captain Awkward's recommendations of scheduled, planned artist's date, but I can't find the link.) It's a practice which sounds nourishing, but which I've never tried.
A date with my creativity, instead of stolen, ever-procrastinated moments. Yes. I'd like to do that.
Well, it's time to put myself to bed. Tomorrow, perhaps.
dreams of community
Feb. 18th, 2019 10:14 pm( rambles about ADHD, sickness, car repairs )
Halfway through the afternoon, I ate the last brownie from my inaugural batch of edibles, and have spent the rest of the day pleasantly high. :D
I've been thinking about how much I love my people, and how much I want to be part of a close-knit chosen family that takes care of each other.
It got me thinking about polyamory and radical queer culture and how sometimes we talk about the ways in which marriage is a patriarchal construct.
Most of my friends aren't looking at imminent marriage. We're living together, working, dating more or less casually or seriously, maybe still on our parents' phone plans or maybe just making a go of it fully on our own. Marriage is a distant thing, if ever. Sometimes we talk about kids, but that's still pretty far off, too.
But these roommate relationships, these romantic friendships and queerplatonic partnerships and chosen siblinghoods, are so deeply fulfilling to me.
I want to hear more conversations about hijacking marriage, now that we're legally allowed to do it, for queer purposes.
i don't want to slide into the pinkwashed version of two kids and a white picket fence in the suburbs, but it seems to me silly to eschew the whole institution. why don't we marry our friends, our comrades, our platonic partners? why let the tax and social advantages go all to unqueer people?
it's all tied up with the larger issue: let's talk more about platonic partnerships and romantic friendships and unsexualized affection and chosen family.
Halfway through the afternoon, I ate the last brownie from my inaugural batch of edibles, and have spent the rest of the day pleasantly high. :D
I've been thinking about how much I love my people, and how much I want to be part of a close-knit chosen family that takes care of each other.
It got me thinking about polyamory and radical queer culture and how sometimes we talk about the ways in which marriage is a patriarchal construct.
Most of my friends aren't looking at imminent marriage. We're living together, working, dating more or less casually or seriously, maybe still on our parents' phone plans or maybe just making a go of it fully on our own. Marriage is a distant thing, if ever. Sometimes we talk about kids, but that's still pretty far off, too.
But these roommate relationships, these romantic friendships and queerplatonic partnerships and chosen siblinghoods, are so deeply fulfilling to me.
I want to hear more conversations about hijacking marriage, now that we're legally allowed to do it, for queer purposes.
i don't want to slide into the pinkwashed version of two kids and a white picket fence in the suburbs, but it seems to me silly to eschew the whole institution. why don't we marry our friends, our comrades, our platonic partners? why let the tax and social advantages go all to unqueer people?
it's all tied up with the larger issue: let's talk more about platonic partnerships and romantic friendships and unsexualized affection and chosen family.
smol dragon, warm community (long post)
Jan. 18th, 2019 10:10 pm(a reflection in narrative)
i've been feeling off-kilter for awhile.
it scared me, because somehow there was a familiar flavor to it, one that I remembered from the long drawn-out end of things with my ex. i could see myself pulling away from my partners, clamming up. it felt like i was trying to force things, or fake them.
It scared me: was this the beginning of another crashing end? why didn't i miss them the way i usually did? why didn't i long for them? why couldn't i think of anything to say?
thursday nights are my regular nights with the Cute Girl. (we always see each other more than that, but we know Thursday is always Thursday) yesterday, i was scared. Scared i wouldn't be enough. scared i wouldn't have anything to give. scared that i wouldn't want to be there.
she'd be coming home from a twelve-hour shift at her hospital, and how could i take care of her when i had nothing to give? i was so, so tired. deeply weary, and had been for days on end. "i think i'm going to feel very small tonight," i said to her thursday morning in a voice message, then added in a tiny voice, "i hope that's ok."
( Read more... )
It turns out....
I can be competent and strong... and I can also be cute and needy.
I can feed my people ... and i can let them feed me
i can share when i have extra spoons / energy / resources ... and i can rest on others when i can't support my own weight.
today, i felt great. in balance again.. there's room for more honesty in my relationships than i dreamed of. no faking required.
i'm awed.
i've been feeling off-kilter for awhile.
it scared me, because somehow there was a familiar flavor to it, one that I remembered from the long drawn-out end of things with my ex. i could see myself pulling away from my partners, clamming up. it felt like i was trying to force things, or fake them.
It scared me: was this the beginning of another crashing end? why didn't i miss them the way i usually did? why didn't i long for them? why couldn't i think of anything to say?
thursday nights are my regular nights with the Cute Girl. (we always see each other more than that, but we know Thursday is always Thursday) yesterday, i was scared. Scared i wouldn't be enough. scared i wouldn't have anything to give. scared that i wouldn't want to be there.
she'd be coming home from a twelve-hour shift at her hospital, and how could i take care of her when i had nothing to give? i was so, so tired. deeply weary, and had been for days on end. "i think i'm going to feel very small tonight," i said to her thursday morning in a voice message, then added in a tiny voice, "i hope that's ok."
( Read more... )
It turns out....
I can be competent and strong... and I can also be cute and needy.
I can feed my people ... and i can let them feed me
i can share when i have extra spoons / energy / resources ... and i can rest on others when i can't support my own weight.
today, i felt great. in balance again.. there's room for more honesty in my relationships than i dreamed of. no faking required.
i'm awed.
the fear always thrills
Jan. 9th, 2019 12:28 pmi told the Cute Girl and Violet_Swirls that I think I'm nonbinary.
(Pause for context: I've been dating two people for the last few months. The Cute Girl is my girlfriend. Spacey_Queer is my datemate/loverfriend. Violet_Swirls is the Cute Girl's girlfriend/partner and my metamour/friend.)
i've hinted at this before, have talked about being genderqueer, have told the Cute Girl bits about dysphoria and not feeling like a girl all the time.
i was still scared to actually say it. couldn't make eye contact. stared at my food. no matter how many times i affirm and support others' identities, it's harder to believe it for myself. harder to believe that yes, this is valid. that these feelings are enough.
i'm daring to believe in myself, and it feels good.
i'm a woman, but I don't think i'm always a woman. I don't think I'm only a woman.
I'm never a boy or man.
I'm always a dyke, always a lesbian, always a person, always a Katherine.
I like gender-neutral and gender-inclusive language. I like they/them pronouns, and I also like she/her pronouns (as long as it's not only and always she/her).
and i look impossibly sharp in a suit. (pics later, i hope)
(Pause for context: I've been dating two people for the last few months. The Cute Girl is my girlfriend. Spacey_Queer is my datemate/loverfriend. Violet_Swirls is the Cute Girl's girlfriend/partner and my metamour/friend.)
i've hinted at this before, have talked about being genderqueer, have told the Cute Girl bits about dysphoria and not feeling like a girl all the time.
i was still scared to actually say it. couldn't make eye contact. stared at my food. no matter how many times i affirm and support others' identities, it's harder to believe it for myself. harder to believe that yes, this is valid. that these feelings are enough.
i'm daring to believe in myself, and it feels good.
i'm a woman, but I don't think i'm always a woman. I don't think I'm only a woman.
I'm never a boy or man.
I'm always a dyke, always a lesbian, always a person, always a Katherine.
I like gender-neutral and gender-inclusive language. I like they/them pronouns, and I also like she/her pronouns (as long as it's not only and always she/her).
and i look impossibly sharp in a suit. (pics later, i hope)
ETA: slightly-blurry picture of me in my newest, sharpest suit:
I'm sitting in my favorite coffee shop, drinking a truly excellent decaf mocha. I recently switched to oat milk for work-day espresso drinks, due to lactose digestion issues, and i like it so much more than any other non-dairy milk i've ever tried. it even holds up to pretty serious latte art, which is always the achilles' heel of non-dairy milks.
i've gotten into a nice little lunchtime routine here: i come here pretty much every day. sometimes (like today) i pack a lunch and buy a drink to go with it. sometimes i buy lunch. either way, i get to walk a few blocks from my office, see the sky, chat with the cute barista, and be away from work.
Always, the intention is to write.
Of course, after walking, chatting, and eating, not much time remains for writing. Depending on how long it takes to check Twitter, I usually have 10-30 minutes left.
I'm trying to practice starting.
Twenty minutes never feels like long enough to be worth it. Ten, even less.
In reality, it's just enough time to reacquaint myself with the story and pound out a few hundred words.
It's just enough time to skip the dithering and write the damn words, without worrying if they're good or bad.
But that's the hard part.
i've gotten into a nice little lunchtime routine here: i come here pretty much every day. sometimes (like today) i pack a lunch and buy a drink to go with it. sometimes i buy lunch. either way, i get to walk a few blocks from my office, see the sky, chat with the cute barista, and be away from work.
Always, the intention is to write.
Of course, after walking, chatting, and eating, not much time remains for writing. Depending on how long it takes to check Twitter, I usually have 10-30 minutes left.
I'm trying to practice starting.
Twenty minutes never feels like long enough to be worth it. Ten, even less.
In reality, it's just enough time to reacquaint myself with the story and pound out a few hundred words.
It's just enough time to skip the dithering and write the damn words, without worrying if they're good or bad.
But that's the hard part.
hyperfocus
Dec. 18th, 2018 08:05 pm one of the things that adhd would explain is why my attention is all or nothing. either i can focus for hours and get absurd, overachieving amounts of work done. or i can't focus for shit.
i fidget, squirm in my seat, fiddle with desk toys (i have a tiny carved elephant and a penguin stress ball), click pens, drum my fingers ...
... get up for coffee/water/cookies/to print things/to talk to the tellers...
i'm fully aware that all these things are not socially acceptable, when done to excess. i do my fucking best to keep a damper on them, to not make noise, to not get up and move around without a good reason more often then every 2 hours.
but other times i can slip into deep focus
like today i turned my phone partially off and went on a spree of fixing months-old errors that my assistant manager asked me to help her with.
i only ever feel like i've accomplished something worthwhile when i've gone into hyperfocus, otherwise i don't register that i've done anything.
but it's draining.
i have 2 modes: IMMOBILE, and OVERDRIVE.
(to the casual onlooker it might look like i have a slow-and-steady pace. this is a lie. my version of slow-n-steady is just extremely rapid alternations of IMMOBILE and OVERDRIVE.)
anyway. i've been hyperfocusing all over the place this week, and i'm super drained. gonna go dumpster diving tonight, tho!
(definitely shouldn't, because i'm exhausted and short on sleep, but definitely will because i want to see people)
one more day of work, and then i get a day off. one more. i can do this.
i fidget, squirm in my seat, fiddle with desk toys (i have a tiny carved elephant and a penguin stress ball), click pens, drum my fingers ...
... get up for coffee/water/cookies/to print things/to talk to the tellers...
i'm fully aware that all these things are not socially acceptable, when done to excess. i do my fucking best to keep a damper on them, to not make noise, to not get up and move around without a good reason more often then every 2 hours.
but other times i can slip into deep focus
like today i turned my phone partially off and went on a spree of fixing months-old errors that my assistant manager asked me to help her with.
i only ever feel like i've accomplished something worthwhile when i've gone into hyperfocus, otherwise i don't register that i've done anything.
but it's draining.
i have 2 modes: IMMOBILE, and OVERDRIVE.
(to the casual onlooker it might look like i have a slow-and-steady pace. this is a lie. my version of slow-n-steady is just extremely rapid alternations of IMMOBILE and OVERDRIVE.)
anyway. i've been hyperfocusing all over the place this week, and i'm super drained. gonna go dumpster diving tonight, tho!
(definitely shouldn't, because i'm exhausted and short on sleep, but definitely will because i want to see people)
one more day of work, and then i get a day off. one more. i can do this.
i think i have adhd
Dec. 16th, 2018 10:36 pmdid some internet research over the last few days
holy fuck it resonates
like there's words for that??? those ~things~ i do???? i'm not the only one?????
this is such a relief.
even just preliminary internet research has given me more tools and strategies
my roommate read one of the articles i gave him and said "yes, yes, yes. this is 100% a description of the person i live with."
i want to cry from relief.
(i'm not just an unpredictably-shitty person. i'm not broken. i'm not the only person whose brain functions like this. there's words for why it does that.)
holy fuck it resonates
like there's words for that??? those ~things~ i do???? i'm not the only one?????
this is such a relief.
even just preliminary internet research has given me more tools and strategies
my roommate read one of the articles i gave him and said "yes, yes, yes. this is 100% a description of the person i live with."
i want to cry from relief.
(i'm not just an unpredictably-shitty person. i'm not broken. i'm not the only person whose brain functions like this. there's words for why it does that.)
genderqueer imposter syndrome
Dec. 15th, 2018 04:43 pm[CN: SELF-DIRECTED QUEERPHOBIA/TRANSPHOBIA]
ok so i'm genderqueer
i think i'm nonbinary / a nonbinary woman.
it sort of comes and goes. i'll have weeks where i'm like "who's awesome? THIS GIRL"
and then weeks where "woman" and "girl" and "female" are nails on a chalkboard and ugggggggggghhhh no
the TROUBLE is...
i 100% believe in other peoples' non-binary-ness, but struggle to accept that it's a valid option for me.
me: "you can identify however you want! if you consider yourself nonbinary that's enough and valid!"
also me: "LOOK SELF, WHY CAN'T YOU JUST ACCEPT THAT YOU'RE A WOMAN???"
me: "presentation =/= identity!"
also me: ("but i pass as cis so maybe i'm not really nonbinary?")
i don't have the same impossible standards for other people. just for me.
sigh.
ok so i'm genderqueer
i think i'm nonbinary / a nonbinary woman.
it sort of comes and goes. i'll have weeks where i'm like "who's awesome? THIS GIRL"
and then weeks where "woman" and "girl" and "female" are nails on a chalkboard and ugggggggggghhhh no
the TROUBLE is...
i 100% believe in other peoples' non-binary-ness, but struggle to accept that it's a valid option for me.
me: "you can identify however you want! if you consider yourself nonbinary that's enough and valid!"
also me: "LOOK SELF, WHY CAN'T YOU JUST ACCEPT THAT YOU'RE A WOMAN???"
me: "presentation =/= identity!"
also me: ("but i pass as cis so maybe i'm not really nonbinary?")
i don't have the same impossible standards for other people. just for me.
sigh.
welp, here i am
Dec. 15th, 2018 04:30 pm so i've been thinking for awhile that i miss the old days when i blogged more than 240 characters at a time.
was toying with the idea of starting up a tumblr for longer-form musings and whatnot.
yeah so that's not going to happen. RIP honestly my favorite part of the internet. i'm still processing the grief & anger fallout.
so i finally got around to importing my old LJ over here and shining it up a bit. considered deleting everything and starting over.....
but this blog is a huge chunk of my past. there's posts here from when i was 15 and just getting into fandom. there's my entire Tanzania travelogue. back then, i was anxious, excitable, christian, thought i was straight. now i'm uhhhhh extremely queer, but like VERY queer, polyamorous, agnostic/atheist/interested in Judaism. i was a right-winger for most of my life and now i'm some flavor of socialist / communist / anarchist??? / leftist.
anyway I've changed and grown a lot, but this is my history, so i'm leaving it here for now.
it's scary to cross the streams but uhhhh, hey folks. this has been my teen fandom blog.
but i'm going to start using it as my post-tumblr tumblr.
was toying with the idea of starting up a tumblr for longer-form musings and whatnot.
yeah so that's not going to happen. RIP honestly my favorite part of the internet. i'm still processing the grief & anger fallout.
so i finally got around to importing my old LJ over here and shining it up a bit. considered deleting everything and starting over.....
but this blog is a huge chunk of my past. there's posts here from when i was 15 and just getting into fandom. there's my entire Tanzania travelogue. back then, i was anxious, excitable, christian, thought i was straight. now i'm uhhhhh extremely queer, but like VERY queer, polyamorous, agnostic/atheist/interested in Judaism. i was a right-winger for most of my life and now i'm some flavor of socialist / communist / anarchist??? / leftist.
anyway I've changed and grown a lot, but this is my history, so i'm leaving it here for now.
it's scary to cross the streams but uhhhh, hey folks. this has been my teen fandom blog.
but i'm going to start using it as my post-tumblr tumblr.
Dear NFE Author 2018
Jul. 31st, 2018 09:21 pmSo you've received my NFE requests. If you remember me from back when I was active in Narnia fandom (2010-2013), you may notice that my tastes have changed. If you don't remember me, see previous sentence, and don't worry.
I'm a queer lesbian depressed woman who grew up fundamentalist/evangelical Christian and then came out and deconverted in the Year of Our Lord 20gayteen.
I love reading practically anything queer, especially happy romances between women and/or nonbinary people. Cozy and heartwarming a plus. Tragic, hopeless endings not a plus.
I am also very much here for any and all questioning the goodness/rightness of Aslan, any happily-ever-after AUs, anything where the gods are limited, have agendas, and may be very wrong.
I love little worldbuilding details, backstory, cultural differences, intelligence codemaster/spy!Susan, trans people, women having adventures and sensitive, gentle men.
I can't wait to see what you write, whether it's an epic adventure or a short, sweet vignette.
Onward to NFE#10!
I'm a queer lesbian depressed woman who grew up fundamentalist/evangelical Christian and then came out and deconverted in the Year of Our Lord 20gayteen.
I love reading practically anything queer, especially happy romances between women and/or nonbinary people. Cozy and heartwarming a plus. Tragic, hopeless endings not a plus.
I am also very much here for any and all questioning the goodness/rightness of Aslan, any happily-ever-after AUs, anything where the gods are limited, have agendas, and may be very wrong.
I love little worldbuilding details, backstory, cultural differences, intelligence codemaster/spy!Susan, trans people, women having adventures and sensitive, gentle men.
I can't wait to see what you write, whether it's an epic adventure or a short, sweet vignette.
Onward to NFE#10!
Dear NFE 2016
Jul. 23rd, 2016 09:22 pmDear NFE Author,
I can't believe I'm writing this. It's been a long time since I did anything in fandom and I didn't expect to do another NFE. But here I am! (Starbrow, as usual, dragged me into it.)
What I'd absolutely love to see is anything with a slow burn. I love depictions of process whether it's the months and years of practice it takes to sing or play an instrument, the dedicated training it takes to learn to fight, the falling-down-and-getting-back-up required to learn a language, the slow build of a friendship or relationship. Whatever it is, I love it when I get to see a treatment of how real-life progress is always one step at a time.
I ADORE reading about women (of all shapes, sizes, sexualities, gender expressions, colors) being their kick-ass, awesome selves.
I love female-centric, consensual smut (femmeslash! hetero! not much interested in gayslash!). High ratings are welcomed but if you're only comfortable with a hint of fade-to-black within a larger work (or no sex at all) that's fine. No incest, noncon, dubcon, please.
I love it when people talk about things (ooh, women talking about sex would combine all three things!).
I like everyone-lives-no-one-dies AUs. I also enjoy stories that arefitted in and around canon. (If you want to write rthverse--do people still do that?--go right ahead!)
I really, really like stories that take Narnia more seriously than just children's fantasy, whether that's exploring the logical ramifications of talking animals or examining how Narnia affected the Pevensies' life choices back in England.
Thank you for writing for me. I'm looking forward to whatever you do!
-Pencildragon/OFG
I can't believe I'm writing this. It's been a long time since I did anything in fandom and I didn't expect to do another NFE. But here I am! (Starbrow, as usual, dragged me into it.)
What I'd absolutely love to see is anything with a slow burn. I love depictions of process whether it's the months and years of practice it takes to sing or play an instrument, the dedicated training it takes to learn to fight, the falling-down-and-getting-back-up required to learn a language, the slow build of a friendship or relationship. Whatever it is, I love it when I get to see a treatment of how real-life progress is always one step at a time.
I ADORE reading about women (of all shapes, sizes, sexualities, gender expressions, colors) being their kick-ass, awesome selves.
I love female-centric, consensual smut (femmeslash! hetero! not much interested in gayslash!). High ratings are welcomed but if you're only comfortable with a hint of fade-to-black within a larger work (or no sex at all) that's fine. No incest, noncon, dubcon, please.
I love it when people talk about things (ooh, women talking about sex would combine all three things!).
I like everyone-lives-no-one-dies AUs. I also enjoy stories that arefitted in and around canon. (If you want to write rthverse--do people still do that?--go right ahead!)
I really, really like stories that take Narnia more seriously than just children's fantasy, whether that's exploring the logical ramifications of talking animals or examining how Narnia affected the Pevensies' life choices back in England.
Thank you for writing for me. I'm looking forward to whatever you do!
-Pencildragon/OFG
