Caught Up in a Bad Fanfiction (This was Cleverer in My Head)

The Fandom Anthem

I’d like to think there was a time in every aspiring writer’s life where they made up stories about their favorite characters from some media and had the nerve to write it down.

I’ve been doing it since I was fourteen.

I’ve had two fanfiction.net accounts, an adultfanfiction.net (for the perv in you) and I recently (like maybe a year or two ago) got an Ao3 (Archice of Our Own)

People don’t really count fanfiction as writing which is fair considering its taking characters that do not belong to you and creating whole new scenarios for them. At the end of the day, they are still other people’s writing no matter how creative you get.

“Bring your favorite character back to life via Deus Ex Machina, today!”

 

I always viewed fanfiction as practice. Very good practice because people are very quick to like and review it. You always know what your fans think about each chapter and can improve upon the story every time you post. I love fanfiction. It offers much of what writing classes  don’t — it gives you an amazing inside look of what the average reader thinks of the characters and the story itself. You’d be surprised how much insightful and constructive criticism I’ve gleaned and how much better of a writer I am for it.

But most of all, it never has to be taken seriously…that is…until recent years. Continue reading

The Short Story That Won’t End

“Its a bit funny isn’t it?” she says suddenly, cutting his thoughts short. “It always starts like this doesn’t it? A perfect stranger sitting in the focal point of some public establishment. Glaringly obvious to the point that they aren’t obvious at all, but are actually most insignificant. Until of course that one detail catches the eye, captures curiosity and feeds it until it grows into unseemly obsession.”

He didn’t have words and even if he did, he was far too distracted by that exquisite and unnatural shade of blue tincture that colored her glasses…more so than the woman they wore.

“Yes….” she said over the brim of her cup. “This is how it always starts.”

—  from “Untitled” by Harli V. Park

 

So, I have been a busy squid. Continue reading

The Cricket Only I Can Hear (Or what even is me blogging)

I wish that cricket would be quiet. It’s daylight for heaven’s sake.

I can’t help but feel like every post I post should be serious and insightful since I’m trying to reach other people like myself and get them interesting in my writing.

But, being a serious writer blog is just a bit difficult to me because I’m always concerned about what I should say, what am I allowed to say, will that come back on me. Being myself for some reason doesn’t come into play.

I should get it out now. Sometimes I say and think strange things. Not only do have an odd thought process and an interest in some weird things, I am also a diagnosed schizoaffective disorder sufferer. However, I don’t see it as an excuse for how strange and weird some of the things that come out of my mind are. As i said, I have strange interests.

So what even is me blogging? Continue reading

Mindless Self-Indulgence (In Other Words)

Disclaimer: I do not speak Italian and I have the utmost respect for Jhumpa Lahiri as a writer/storyteller. I’ve only read the English version of In Other Words so it is very possible that much of the meaning and reflection was lost in translation but since it boasts direct translation I highly doubt it.

The premise is that Lahiri has fallen in love and has harbored these feelings since 1994 since her first trip to Florence. There is no person, however. No, she has fallen into a one-sided infatuation with the Italian. Not the place, not the people, not the culture, but rather just the words. Because of this love she has taken it upon herself to learn it as a means of capturing it and holding it herself. As lessons prove not to be enough and she suffers with the inability to engage anyone with her new found love, she decides to move to Italy with her family for three years for no other desire than to immerse herself in Italian — the language not the culture. Continue reading

Scary, Not Scary!

Being a self-proclaimed horror writer for the time being, I wonder if its weird that I’m writing horror not to scare but just to tell a story that is in my head. When I’m coaxed into a conversation about my horror writing, the first thing people ask is “is it scary.”

I never quite know how to answer. Continue reading