I've been gone for a while. Sorry about that...if anybody noticed or cared. I just didn't know what to say after I finished saying what I needed to say. Does that make sense? Well, it made sense in my head.
Anyway, I haven't only been gone because I've been stuck in an Emo cycle of down swinging emotional nonsense. I've also been dedicating myself to my newest fan fiction, which is surprisingly rising in popularity. Would you guys believe that in the world of Harry Potter Fan Fiction I am famous? Twenty thousand readers at last count for my various stories that have been selected favorites, and the highest honor of all: Favorite Author of three thousand individuals.
I can't help feeling proud. I'm a geek at heart and I love to have people loving what I write, even if Fan Fiction is considered bottom of the barrel writing. And a lot of it is. Some of it is so awfully written, so grammatically incorrect, so nonsensical or perverted I find myself wondering how people have the nerve to write such trash, let alone publish it. Furthermore, I wonder why on earth it was approved for validation. Because nothing you write on HPFF gets published without someone on the team reading and validating it, unless you're a Trusted Author. And you can't be a Trusted Author if your work is badly written, badly plotted, or full of grammar mistakes. So I find myself confused as to how some of the drivel that passes as a story on the internet manages to get fans. I can't read more than three sentences of most of it.
Anyway, I wasn't planning on ranting about fan fiction today. I wasn't even going to bore you with the tales of my Thanksgiving, except to say that Padawan's grandmother thought I was Little Sister because the last time she saw me I was blond.
Nope, I just wanted to share a little story from yesterday. I was sitting in the living room mindlessly surfing the Internet while Padawan took a nap in the relative warmth of the bedroom, when out of the corner of my eye I saw movement in a place there should have been no movement. Our balcony.
Padawan, Jerkface, and I live on the third floor of our building. There are no trees within thirty feet of our building, and no drainpipes by our apartment. Movement is very odd out there. And Choo Choo, who had been sitting in my lap at the time, noticed as well, so we both turned to look.
And there, sitting on the other side of the sliding glass door was a cheeky little squirrel, shaking its tale and chattering at Choo Choo, who immediately rushed to the door and started shaking her tale and whining because she wanted to go play with the furry animal that was about her size. I was so amused by the communication between the two of them that I had to take a picture. Unfortunately the squirrel moved away from the door and to the other side of the railing when I came up, and I only had my camera phone on me at the time.
But I still got pictures of the interlude they carried on through the glass.
It was so entirely cute and adorable and I really, REALLY wanted to open the door for Choo Choo to go outside to see what would happen. But I knew that if I opened the door the noise and vibration would scare the poor squirrel away and then Choo Choo would be sad. So I just took pictures and tried to get Padawan to get up to come watch, but he was entirely too engrossed in staying warm and cozy in the bed to come out and watch Choo Choo and Squirrel play through the glass. But that's pretty much all I had to say. Disappointed? 
Think about it this way, darlin--fans are fans. That's an impressive number you've got there. So when you write your book, you've already got a platform who'll buy it. Direct those fans to your blog, too!
ReplyDeleteI don't think I'll ever write a real book. It's one thing to correct all the story mistakes a renowned author made (bringing Harry back to life, for one, and not having Hermione and Draco fall in love, for two), but it's entirely another to be an author with your own ideas. I wouldn't want the criticism that comes with writing a real book. Plus, I tried writing my own book when I was fifteen and I lost interest twelve chapters into it. I don't have the patience to write a whole book. And I don't think I have the right kind of writing skills to make it as a writer anyway. My advice column in my high school paper was pretty popular, but it's easy to amuse a bunch of teenagers. And I like the obscurity of my blog. It means I can complain about things and not have to worry about repercussions.
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