Jul. 25th, 2014

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Eight chapters, 16,000+ words, seven kudos, 130 hits. That's the score thus far, on "This Old Death." I also went back and lj-cutted all previous chapters, as well as adding a "fanfiction" tag. Such a tag has always existed on my LJ; go to user info to access it, if you're so inclined. (I will, inevitably, be putting the fanfiction hosted here up on AO3 at some point, though I'm not sure when.)

Some people may be wondering why I'm doing this, so I'll reiterate what I've said before in various posts and interviews: A) I like writing fanfiction, and B) the way things seem to go with me is that when I get involved in a fandom, I am inevitably pulled headlong towards the absolute tiniest end of that fandom's shipping spectrum, so if I didn't write the stuff I wanted to read, said stuff very literally would not exist. Also, in this case, C) it's so rare that I get the urge to write anything long and even vaguely canon-compliant/-divergent that when it does come upon me, I kind of feel like I have to pursue it.

(This even though some people may recall me having exploded out of the fanfiction gate way back when with "My Wife and My Dead Wife," in OZ which was very definitely both of the latter, as well as porny as all get out. And I did it in the period between Season Two hiatus and the Season Three premiere, too, which I'm still proud of...but then again, back then I was single, childless, and had a writing career which didn't involve constant creative work. Things have changed, as Bob Dylan sang.)

None of what I'm doing with "This Old Death" is likely to cut into my professional work, especially if I can cap it off within the next three to four days. It may involve truncating things a bit, but when you're dealing with a cast this huge, sometimes it be's like that. And one way or the other, I do have the end already--both planned and pretty much executed--so that always helps. Spoiler alert: things don't end well...but then again, it's that sort of a universe, isn't it? Dead rising, total societal collapse, cats and dogs living together, Rick Grimes/the Governor, etc. Mass hysteria!

In only slightly less tramatic news, last night my Mom and I attended a house concert given by David Sereda, with whom I had the privilege of singing two or so years ago via the Echo Women's Choir. He's a passionate, amazing local Ontario singer-songwriter/composer of multiple musicals whose interpretations are only outdone by his original stuff, and at one point he sang a song that was so moving I surprised myself by how much I cried, from first notes to last--you'd've thought it was somebody I knew who'd died. The lyrics were elegant and wrenching in equal amounts, evoking the myth of Orpheus, the AIDS crisis and the potential possibility of new love after tragedy, that I immediately wanted to hear it over and over. Naturally, it's a very recent piece of his which probably hasn't been recorded yet, because I definitely can't find it on his SoundCloud page. So hurry up and release that album/"file of downloads," David! I need to make myself cry again, and soon.

Another distinctive thing about last night is that as we waited for a streetcar on Torontp's skeeviest corner (Queen and Sherbourne, in case you're wondering), a guy wandered randomly by with a live raccoon on his head. "Cute!" one loitering crackhead exclaimed, and went to pet it; "Hsss!", the raccoon exclaimed, striking at him with its creepy little hands. The downtown GTA, ladies and gents.

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