Fanfic policy

It occurred to me that I should probably have a fanfic policy.

On the one hand, it seems a little bit unnecessary, given that as far as I know nobody has any intention of writing any fic for Speak Its Name. On the other hand, I’ve written the first fic in many a tiny fandom, and it feels like false modesty to assume that nobody at all, in the whole world, ever, would want to write in a universe just because I was the one who invented it.

I must make one thing clear: this is a policy for me. What anybody else does is up to them.

As soon as a world of my creation is taking up space in someone else’s head, it’s their business what they do about that. Personally, I do not mind at all if people write the missing scene or the crossover with Check, Please! or the OT3 or the coffee shop AU, or if they nominate it for Yuletide, or if they want to argue with the premise of the whole thing through the medium of fiction.

More to the point, my minding or not minding is irrelevant. I cannot and would not stop anyone writing (see also drawing, making fanmixes, whatever) what they like.

However. As a creator, I need to keep my own headcanon tidy. While I doubt it’s going to become a full-blown series, I am planning a sequel to Speak Its Name, and I could do without its getting tangled up with anyone else’s conception of the world. As a fan, I know it is dreadfully awkward when a canon creator leaves a comment, even an approving one, on one’s fic.

And so this is my policy regarding fanfic of my works: I’d rather not have it drawn to my attention. I won’t go looking for it and I certainly won’t comment on it.

Stationery Love at Jera’s Jamboree

I talked to Shaz over at Jera’s Jamboree about my finicky taste in exercise books, my abiding preference for paper diaries, and my unashamedly fannish choice of ink colour. In short, stationery love.

There’s a picture of a page of the first draft of A Spoke in the Wheel, too, if you’re really desperate to know more about that. Although I should warn you that it’s pretty much illegible, and I deliberately chose a page that doesn’t give away much of the plot.

100 untimed books: fighting

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74. fighting

When I was in my early teens, this book was one of my absolute favourites. It’s about a British teenager who finds himself in Romania just as the Ceaucescu regime is falling. I loved it for the idealism, for the music (the narrator is a member of a youth orchestra), for the sense of hope.

The lanyard came from a friend of my father’s who used to work for the EU, and is included with a certain wistfulness.

100 untimed books

Giving up, and giving up on giving up

This year I’ve been doing Lent differently; by which I mean that I’ve not been doing very much differently at all. I haven’t given up anything, partly in an attempt to disconnect the idea of virtue from that of self-deprivation, and partly to see if there’s any correlation between Lenten discipline and the seasonal depression that tends to land early in March and lift around Easter.

It turns out that not giving up meat, not giving up alcohol, not giving up coffee, not giving up tea, not giving up biscuits, and not giving up anything else, has made precisely zero difference, and March has been as much of a slog as it always is. This has, oddly enough, made me feel rather optimistic. It would have been annoying to discover that I’d brought all my misery on myself by trying too hard to be ‘good’. Next year I can do what I feel like doing and not worry about it. And I also know for next year not to schedule any social events during March, because I’ll either flake out and disappoint people, or turn up and then cry and embarrass them.

I keep meaning to write about the structure of the Church year, and how useful I find it. Firstly, there’s the way that it keeps turning on and on with or without my involvement. I can fail to get out of bed three Sundays running, work a weekend away, and then go on holiday, and when I come back I can still reorient myself by the colour of the altar frontal, the readings, and the anthem. And then there’s the fact that there is actually an officially sanctioned time for feeling dreadful, followed by a time of feeling a huge amount better and being thankful for that. That bit’s coming up soon. I’m looking forward to it.

Lent

March blows in,
yellow, ragged-edged.
I wait:
too tired for anything but waiting;
too weak for anything but waiting;
soon it must surely
tear through me, open me up
until I know, heart-deep, the brightness
that now I only see.

100 untimed books: surrender anyway

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59. surrender anyway

Some books, you know that if you so much as pick them up, the rest of the afternoon, the rest of the weekend, will just disappear. If they’re the first in the a series, make that a fortnight you’ve just lost. And yet you open them anyway…

(I didn’t get this in Asda for £1.99. I got it in a charity shop for 50p.)

100 untimed books